Never forget!
We mark the anniversaries on our calendars. We set up memorial and statues. We raise money. We write it down in the history books.
But we do forget.
We remember the dates and the events. We mark them as points on a timeline. It’s been fifty years since X, 100 years since Y, only 10 years since Z. It feels longer or shorter.
Doctoral dissertations are written to analyze them, put them into the larger context, explain them. These are the things that made a difference, that changed us. If it hadn’t happened, how would we be different, what would be better, or worse?
But still we forget. We remember the dates and the events, but forget what is most important. We remember the events and forget the history; remember the details and forget the human.
John F. Kennedy, the President of the United States was shot and killed, November 22, 1963, while riding in a motorcade in Dallas, Texas. John Connolly, the Texas Governor was also shot, but survived. A man named Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested for the murder, but was himself assassinated before he could stand trial, by a man named Jack Ruby. Ruby died in prison of a fatal disease he knew he had before he shot Oswald, and before he could stand trial. In the hours after the assassination, Jacqueline Kennedy stood next to Lyndon Johnson as he became president. Was she still wearing the dress with her husband’s blood on it? I was sitting in a chemistry class in Holbrook, Massachusetts, when we got the word. The announcement was made. The President has been shot. Classes are dismissed. A friend and I walked home together, looking at the people passing in the street, and wondered who knew and who did not. In our inexpressible teenage fear and confusion and inability to really understand, we laughed at the absurdity of it all. The President was dead, everything was different, but we didn’t know how or why or what it would mean to us.
But these are things I know. I couldn’t tell you where my memories and my knowledge intersect. My memories are reconstructions from the details I know, but I couldn’t tell you if those are really the most important details or just the most vivid. By the time we got out of the sixties, Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King were both dead. The next twenty years saw a President resign, and two more Presidents shot. I know these things more than remember them.
We all forget.
I know that I do not remember World War Two. I don’t remember Hitler or the Nazis, Mussolini or the fascists, Hirohito or Pearl Harbor. I know about these things but do not remember them any more than I can remember the Alamo or the Maine.
We can, as we look at current events, look at the history books. We can read about the Holocaust and the concentration camps. There are still a few people alive who were there, who were old enough to know, but after seventy years, they are growing ever fewer. But what a few remaining individuals will remember, the culture will forget.
We can look at history, we can learn from history if we want, but history isn’t memory. History is a collection of stories told from other people’s perspective on still other people’s memories.
What we do remember is our own happiness, love, successes, passions, and gifts; we remember our fear, grief, pain, and anger. And we want to own those feelings. We don’t want to share them with anyone else, unless we can see something to gain from that sharing. And in remembering any of these things, in sharing them with others, we change the memories themselves, sometimes very subtly, sometimes deliberately and significantly.
I was taken by all the young faces among the Nazi groups. There is no point in trying to tell those young men about how we remember Hitler and Mussolini and their victims. There is no real point in trying to explain to young people waving Confederate flags what should be remembered about slavery and the Confederacy and the Civil War. They remember only their own feelings of victimhood and who the alt-right has told them are their oppressors. It is easy to believe a lie about the present when it is wrapped in a lie about the past; and you have memory only of the lie.
Memorials are by definition about memory, but they are also about the lies we tell ourselves as a society and a culture. So are museums. When someone put nooses on displays at the African-American Museum and on a tree at the Smithsonian, my first thought was, “were there none already there?” If you really wanted to erase the history of America in the 19th and 20th centuries, removing all trace of nooses would be a good place to start. If you want people to know that the past is prologue, that who we are today is still inextricably tied to who we were then, we need more memorials to nooses – and to those who were hanged for the crime of not being white enough. Memorials tell us what we are encouraged to remember. But every memorial, every museum exhibit should be checked to see what is being remembered and what is not. If we move Confederates’ memorials and statues of their leaders from the pubic square into museums, we aren’t erasing history, we aren’t erasing memory, but we may be able to put history into clearer context, memory into the stories we tell about the past.
In spite of the memorials, regardless of the history books, we will forget. We will forget – in the only sense of that that matters – the 9/11 attacks. Quickly, without thinking about it, what was the year? Did you hesitate, doubt yourself, get rattled by the challenge? That is what forgetting looks like. We have, for all intents and purposes, forgotten Pearl Harbor, forgotten the internment of the Japanese-Americans, forgotten what got us into the war in Europe (Pearl Harbor was about the Japanese, not the fascists). We have forgotten about the Cuban missile crisis, and when it is raised in discussions about the current situation with North Korea, we may struggle to see the relevance. Our memories of Columbine High Sc hool have faded to a vague knowledge that kids were shot by kids, and somehow heavy metal music was to blame. Those who weren’t there, on the ground, dealing with the reality of it, are already forgetting Sandy Hook. Memorials won’t stop this erasure of memory and history won’t revive it.
Perhaps we need to stop trying to memorialize things before we have done what we need to do to change what is. After the end of the Civil War, nothing was done to substantially change the cultural, social and economic realities that existed both as the cause of white bias and black slavery; or as the result of tearing down those institutions. After WWII, the world moved on, but the end of the war was not the end of Nazism, fascism, or hatred of Jews, Blacks, homosexuals, and all who were not white, western and self-rewarded with manifest destiny.
Pick an issue or an idea that is amplified by our current political and social polarization. You will find that at its heart is forgetfulness. “Giving” women the vote did not mean we forgot that they were supposed to be second. Electing a mixed-race man with an African American wife did not mean that we forgot that white men were supposed to be the superior race and therefore entitled to special privilege. Instead, we forgot that events change outward more quickly than they change culture; and culture, not any event, is how we express our collective memory of who we are supposed to be.
When people talk about “normalizing” white supremacy or misogyny or xenophobia or homophobia, or violence as a way of dealing with conflict, they are missing the point that those things were already normal. We never changed that, we just rather willfully forgot it.
People talk about the “teaching moment.” Perhaps the Trump Presidency can be such a moment, if we will let it. But who will do the teaching? And what will be taught? If history is any indication, we will fail to change what needs changing and eventually forget what most needs to be remembered.
Archive for the ‘PeaceAble’ Category
NEVER FORGET! — The Fog of History and the Mutability of Memory
In PeaceAble, Politics on August 21, 2017 at 10:29 amWar is Easy/Peace is Hard
In PeaceAble on April 7, 2017 at 11:04 amWar is easy.
War is easy because it only requires a relatively few people to make it happen. Currently, only about .75% of Americans between 18 and 65 years of age are serving in the military. And it only takes 51 senators, 218 representatives, and 1 President to declare a war and fund it. Of those people, an even smaller percentage will ever actually see combat, with the newest technologies reducing that risk even further. And you don’t have to involve your adversary in the decision until it’s made.
Peace is hard.
Peace is hard because it’s something we would have to live every day to make it happen. We are a nation of more than 325 million people, approximately 75% of those are adults. In order for us to live peaceably in the world, we would first have to learn to live peaceably with each other. The population of the world is approximately 7.5 billion. They would all have to learn to live peaceably with themselves and then with us. We represent about 4% of the world population, and we can only achieve a truly peaceable world if we can get the other 96% to go along with it.
War is easy.
War is easy because it’s profitable right away. President Eisenhower warned of the military/industrial complex sixty years ago. Since then, nothing has been done to change that reality. The war machine eats up a lot of money. Right now, the current President is proposing to spend 54 billion dollars more on the military. There is big money to be spent and big profit to be made as soon as those funds are approved. And that profit will mostly bypass the poor and middle class and go directly to the wealthy.
Peace is hard.
Peace is hard because it takes longer to turn a peace profit. Make no mistake. Peace is profitable, but it takes a bit longer to see the profit, and it goes to different people. A peaceable world would allow us to use more of our resources to heal the sick, break the cycle of poverty for millions, better educate our citizens, clean up and beautify our world, end our dependence on fossil fuels and do a whole range of things we can’t do now because we spend so much on war and preparation for war and the consequences of war. A peaceable world would make it easier for us to interact economically with other nations, profiting us both. But the transition from a war economy (and we are always in a war economy) to a peaceable economy would take time, time to create the infrastructure, time to see where the jobs need to be, time to train people to live in such an economy, time for profit to work its way up from the bottom to the top.
War is easy.
War is easy because it produces heroes and glory and victories. It also, of course, produces destruction, displacement, injury, disease, and death. War produces great suffering. But the amount of suffering is always considerably less, we are told, than the glory and the heroism. And the glory, victories and the heroes give us reasons to party. In fact, most, nearly all of our national holidays are celebrated with a military presence and a military flair. Every parade has a contingent of active and veteran military, nearly every parade unit has uniforms and behaviors of some kind that are fashioned on the military. Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, marching bands, various auxiliaries, all marching in straight lines with a military gait. We celebrate so many of our holidays with explosions, loud militaristic and nationalistic music, grand speeches about our own greatness and the greatness of our military. Even when we celebrate the ends of wars we celebrate the victory, not the peace. When did you last hear a speaker at a Veteran’s Day celebration talk about the effort to rebuild Europe after WWI or WWII, to find a way to peace with Vietnam, to restore our economy, to live in peace with our former enemies?
Peace is hard.
Peace is hard because it produces invisible diplomats and unrecognized workers. You may know the names of recent Secretaries of State – Albright, Powell, Rice, Clinton, Kerry, Tillerson – and a few historic ones – Adams, Madison, Monroe, Rusk, Dulles, Baker, Kissinger – but how many diplomats can you name? How many people can you name who have led efforts to reduce poverty and hunger and homelessness in the world? How many pacifists and peace workers ever make it into the public consciousness? And how often do we celebrate them? How many awards do we give them for their service, how many parades, how many holidays? Where is the glory in helping a third world community to build a self-sustaining agriculture, produce clean water, start an industry? A member of the military is treated as a hero as soon as the uniform is donned. To be a hero of peace you have to rise to the level of a Ghandi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Malala Yousafzai. Why should we pursue peace when it is clearly so undervalued?
War is easy.
War is easy because we have the language for it close at hand. Our common lexicon is flooded with words that are either directly or indirectly militarist. From sports to business even to the pursuit of peace, we talk about campaigns that are waged, victories that are won, adversaries that are defeated. When we want love, we read articles about how to seduce and win a lover, how to catch a spouse. In our everyday activities we talk about beating, conquering, destroying, killing, and fighting. We value winners, and second place is a loser. We label enemies more quickly than friends, and we are always a bit suspicious of our friends. We put our children into troops; and they may know the words for guns and rockets and bombs, but not really understand what love is, or empathy, or compassion. Patriotism is rarely seen as pacifist or even gentle.
Peace is hard.
Peace is hard because we have too little language for it. Try to describe what you think world peace would be like? What words do you use? How concrete and specific are they? How general and vague? We know what a battle is; but what is it’s opposite? Are you stuck on words like love, acceptance, tolerance, understanding, empathy? Can you make those concrete? How do you actually do those things? Perhaps we can’t all get along because we have no common language to describe what that would be like. And so many of our peace words carry a cultural connotation of weakness: acceptance, accommodation, tolerance. We not only don’t know what “love your enemy” means, we don’t want to do it.
War is easy.
War is easy because it can coexist with fear. If we were not afraid we would not go to war. Fear is essential to war, both declaring it and waging it. If we cannot identify an enemy we are supposed to fear, how do we justify war? Any soldier who does not understand and feel fear risks recklessness and is a danger to his comrades. We don’t give medals to people who were not afraid, but to those who overcame their fear. Fear is the enemy, we’re told; something to be vanquished as much as the physical enemy is.
Peace is hard.
Peace is hard because it requires us to be fearless. In order to build a peaceable world we must allow ourselves to be vulnerable, to trust, see the human face of the other. We must let the other in, and we must seek him out without fear. We must learn to love unconditionally. We cannot be afraid of our pain, our suffering, our challenges; but we must form the habit of seeking causes rather than blame, profound solutions rather than easy fixes. We have to be in it for the long haul. Peace requires courage of us all, we cannot pass it off on a small percentage of our citizens; we need to work at our problems together, all of us, not wait for someone else to make them go away.
And it is important that we learn that war never leads to peace. War only creates the conditions that lead to the next war. But war is easy. Only living peaceably will lead to peace. But living peaceably is hard. Peace is hard.