Over the past few weeks, our screens have been inundated with images of our nation’s history toppling to the ground—a history that for so many represents subjugation, powerlessness, and hate. And I’ve been grappling with developing my own point of view: do I think the statues should stand or fall?

As I consider the question, two ideas keep coming to mind: Ray Bradbury’s incomparable Fahrenheit 451 and the idea that if we forget our past, we are condemned to repeat it. I have come to the conclusion that instead of erasing events from our pasts or trying to ignore that those events happened, we must face them, acknowledge them, and try to learn from them.

In other words, we must overcome.

Trying to Forget vs. Trying to Learn

If you want a stark lesson of what happens when we simply try to forget the past, Fahrenheit 451 shows the results in stark detail: people have willingly given up reading and critical thinking in favor of mindless entertainment, so as to avoid the confusion, uncertainty, and distress caused by reading books (and, thus, reliving the past). They are numb, broken, and defeated—because erasing unpleasant reminders of our past doesn’t undo that past. And I strongly doubt if trying to remove reminders of the past can help the present or the future.

For example, consider the heartbroken teenage girl sobbing as she burns the mementos of a relationship gone awry. Burning the mementos may help her burn away some of her anger at being heartbroken, but it doesn’t stop the heartbreak, and it doesn’t keep her from having her heart broken in the future. Instead, she can learn a lot more if she uses the mementos as growth tools—she can still remember the good times as examples of what to work toward. But she can also allow those mementos to help her learn lessons, to remind her of the aspects of the relationship or partner that she didn’t like, so she can guard against those in the future. They can be especially helpful to her in this respect if she examines her experiences and asks herself what she should and can do differently in the future to have better relationships and partners.

I understand—as best I can, I believe, given my relative privilege—the reasons for removing monuments that pay homage to people and systems that have caused countless deaths and immeasurable suffering. But I also consider from the soul perspective—which may admittedly be little to no consolation to anyone enduring pain in this life—that nothing in this world is all good or all bad. There are lessons to be learned from everything, and my inclination is to not remove statues that pay homage but instead to repurpose them, to learn from them … and thus to try to avoid the trap fallen into by the people of Bradbury’s dystopian future.

(Please note that my ideas are not meant to offend anyone. In writing this post, I am doing my best to understand concerns that I have not personally experienced, and I am sure my opinions will shift and change as I continue to learn and grow. I welcome heartfelt conversation and education as part of my own learning and overcoming.)

I am discussing the monuments not because I want to debate whether statues—or which ones—should stay or go, but simply as an example of the tendency that we humans have to demolish—and to try to forget—things that we don’t like, that cause us pain. Bradbury had this part 100% right, in my estimation. I don’t believe we should dwell in our pain but that we do have to learn to overcome. And we cannot truly overcome by pulling down. (I am not judging the desire for destruction or forgetfulness, nor am I dismissing or diminishing the suffering of people of color in the United States. The statues are simply an example fresh in my mind.)

My concern with removing statues is that we will forget the lessons that the past has to teach us. And if we forget the past, we are doomed to repeat it. My concern is that we may “damage the future” by not forcing ourselves and future generations to look at what we—including our ancestors—have done. Problematically, some statues that have been pulled down have had nothing to do with the Confederacy. In Wisconsin, the statue of an abolitionist who died in the Civil War was pulled down. This is a prime example to me of the problem of getting caught up in the temporary catharsis of destruction, unwilling to learn the lessons offered by the memento.

History Books Are Written By Those Who Prevail

A few days ago, I saw on social media a tongue-in-cheek rebuttal against the argument that removing physical reminders of the Confederacy erases history. It pointed out that books exist, the implication being that (nonfiction?) books are permanent and always truthful and accurate.

But I have worked in publishing and have read enough books to know that you can’t believe everything you read, even if it’s in a book. History books have traditionally been written by the “winners”, and many texts are published only if it falls in line with certain people’s beliefs (this is as true of books and peer-reviewed scientific literature as of mass media).

And I’ve been to Berlin’s Bebelplatz, with its empty library in memory of books torched by the Nazis—books that disagreed with Nazi ideology. Books can be burned, just as statues can be toppled. Nothing is permanent in this world except change. Ideas remain so long as they are shared. Statues and books offer the chance for those ideas to endure through generations, but we can destroy the statues and books. That may lead to the destruction of the original idea … but it also may not. But to assume that an idea will carry on only because it has been recorded for posterity (statue or book) is its own sort of forgetfulness. Ideas persist because they are discussed and shared. (The best way to ensure that people read a controversial book is to ban it. Go one step further and try to destroy all copies of that book, and you automatically ensure that somewhere, some copy is being safeguarded and protected because someone fears loss of something that has meant a great deal to them. The same can be done with statues.)

Reshape the Conversation

If we engage with painful events and ideas, and with other people about those events and ideas, yes, we may ensure that the memory of those events and ideas remains … but we can also participate in the shape of that memory—we can help to craft the collective idea about those events. If we remove reminders of those events, we run the risk of forgetting and of losing an opportunity to engage. Keeping a monument—but retooling it or adding a monument in counterpoint can be one such means of engagement. I recently read an article that mentioned a slave block in Fredericksburg, Virginia, which serves as “an acknowledgment of how omnipresent and ordinary the evils of slavery once were, and of how much their memory haunts us yet.” The author of the article wrote, “I doubt that many African-Americans need to be reminded of that. Most white people still do.”

Yes, most white people still do, whether they realize it or not. After all, it is too easy years later for those who are not still apparently harmed by them to forget the lasting effects of broken treaties and broken promises, of brother fighting brother, of life in the trenches, and of chemical warfare…not least of which is because those who participated in such things don’t want to talk about them and relive them.

If the rise of the internet has taught us anything, it’s that even though the truth is available, that in no way guarantees that the people who read it will believe it over the non-truths they read. And again, there is Fahrenheit 451 to remind us that we can destroy records of the truth because they make us sad—not so ill an intent as the Nazis had, but with no less a potentially awful result.

The slave block clearly does not pay homage to a Confederate, and whether the slave block should remain is still debated locally: “Some people want it gone, seeing it as a reminder of past hatred and injustice. Others want it to stay, for just that reason. The debate is a healthy one, and the longer it goes on and the more people involved the better. I am not a Virginian, but if I lived in Fredericksburg I too would want it to remain, as an acknowledgment of how omnipresent and ordinary the evils of slavery once were, and of how much their memory haunts us yet.”

I agree with the author. Part of my thinking is that if we pull down Confederate statues because of the past and system they represent, people who love those statues for what they represent may simply turn to monuments such as the slave block as replacements for what the torn-down statues represented to them, because humans are humans, and something that represents hatred and evil to one person may inspire pride and love in another—but not necessarily for the same reasons. Someone who is determined to remember the past a certain way will find a way to do so—hence my suggestion of repurposing monuments and using the repurposing as a chance to reeducate.

The Work Is Never Done

It is true that it is too easy for people who see such monuments to say, “That wasn’t me, I didn’t do that,” and to fall into the Fahrenheit 451 forgetfulness trap. It is too easy to forget those few paragraphs or chapters about important lessons of history that we read in high school. Too easy to forget all but a few names of Important People. Too easy to forget the millions whose names were already forgotten—or not Important enough for mention—by those history texts. And too difficult to go searching for names for those people—names that might still exist in very old records, if you know where to look and how to begin. But the details of their lives are gone. Bringing back names and details can help the past and those injustices seem more real. And that is why Germany, in coming to terms with its behavior leading up to and in World War II, has created memorials to commemorate people—especially Jews—killed in the Holocaust. This is Vergangenheitsbewältigung, their version of overcoming their past.

But now let’s step back from these weighty societal issues to look at things on a much smaller, more personal scale. It’s this scale on which we have to begin to effect any sort of change. Although the Germans are working on overcoming their past as a country and we Americans may finally be starting to taking our first hesitant steps along our own path, I think everyone must also do such work as individuals. It’s far too easy for us to distract ourselves, ala Fahrenheit 451, and forget little hurts we’ve done to others over the years, with or without intention. It’s easy to think of ourselves as good people who have never hurt anyone. And yet, if we are willing, we all can recall being hurt by someone we love—not to mention by classmates, friends, enemies, or even total strangers. It’s naive—and deceitful—to say we ourselves have never hurt others simply because we can’t remember doing so, or because we didn’t intend to do so.

We needn’t constantly cry and wail, “Mea culpa!” That is not penance; it’s guilt. Guilt alone doesn’t fix anything, and it doesn’t improve anything. But to truly become better, we must both face and reckon with our pasts. We must do the work of coming to terms with our past. But we must also understand that this work is never done. Although we may not have owned slaves and may not have displaced the indigenous peoples who once lived on the land we now occupy, we play a part in the current culture. Whatever that part is, we must come to terms with it. There are consequences to all of our actions, and we must be willing to come to terms with those consequences.

If we, unlike the folks in Fahrenheit 451, are willing and able to keep reading and learning and engaging, and if we are willing to experience temporary mental and emotional discomfort, we can always and forever learn from the past—if we are willing to face it, to consider it, to look at the implications and results. It is a work that is never done. But it is the only option for improving ourselves as individuals, as a society, and as humans.

 

Note

[1] Special thanks to Angela Wade for her insight and especially for her revision of this post.

****

My Services

Providing insight into how the energies of the next twelve months will affect you directly, through a personalized Year-Ahead Review.

Support in emotional, physical, or mental healing via Reiki session or intuitive reading.

Sharing messages from other realms (for example, from spirit guides, angels, earth spirits, or deceased loved ones). Contact me.

Weddings, funerals, baptisms, house cleansings and blessings, and more. Contact me.

 

Watch this video if you are curious about how I prepare for all of my readings and Reiki work, and how I perform readings and conduct conversations with Spirit.

 

My Year of Shadow and Light (My Memoir)

Audio/Video (YouTube)

Written

 

Find Me Elsewhere on the Web

Facebook

YouTube

Yelp