Political Not Patriotic: Democracy, Civic Space, And The American Memorial/Monument Complex

Abstract

Political Not Patriotic: Democracy, Civic Space, And The American Memorial/Monument Complex Steven Johnston (bio) Democracy has no monuments. It strikes no medals. It bears the head of no man on a coin. John Adams [T]he profession of most monuments is to call forth a remembrance, or rivet the attention and give the feelings a pious direction because one assumes they somehow need it; and in this, their major profession, monuments always fail.... Well, doubtless this can be explained. Everything permanent loses its ability to impress.... In a word, monuments today should do what we all have to do, make more of an effort! Anybody can stand quietly by the side of the road and allow glances to be bestowed on him; these days we can demand more of monuments. Robert Musil Late in the afternoon on 3 July 2000 in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, the Gettysburg National Tower, a three hundred-foot observation citadel on the civil war’s decisive battlefield, was demolished. While it may have been functional (it allowed visitors to view the entire field of conflict), it was also widely considered an aesthetic atrocity. A diverse movement to restore the battlefield, as much as possible, to its original 1863 condition succeeded in eliminating the tower. The cost was $1 million. Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt presided over the destruction. He said: “This is sacred ground. Americans come here to learn of their past, to understand how it was in those days when we remade ourselves as a new nation.”[1] Also on 3 July the Washington Monument, with Bruce Babbitt again presiding, was rededicated. Restoration work totaled three years and $10 million. Babbitt said: “[This] is a sacred place. It’s where Americans have come for generations to reflect on who we are and the extraordinary history that has converged to make our nation.... We honor that experience and we honor this place by taking care of it.”[2] Meanwhile, other sacred sites have been making news, too. Work on the Lincoln Memorial’s two decorative murals has been completed. While time and weather may be the principal enemies of the murals, National Airport also contributes its fair share to the assault on the Lincoln (and not it alone). Routine air traffic compromises its foundation and structure, which means that its preservation is a more or less perpetual project. What’s more, a new memorial is experiencing birth pangs. The long-awaited tribute to WWII and its veterans has finally taken shape. Cost estimates for the WWII Memorial, slated to take a prized position midway between the Washington and Lincoln, a location symbolizing the status accorded it, approach $150 million. A less prominent site was rejected — precisely because it was less prominent. Objections have been raised to the proposed site on aesthetic grounds. For example: building it there would mar the unobstructed view from one end of the Mall to the other, thus compromising the visual effects between the Washington and Lincoln. Even (some) WWII veterans were opposed, which suggests that aesthetic questions on the Mall are complicated. On sacred ground, if you will, site lines involve more than untrammeled vision.[3] Secretary Babbitt’s public remarks at both Gettysburg and the Washington seem appropriate, fitting. They belong to a patriotic discourse. For what possible reasons might his declarations of sanctity be flagged? After all, the Washington Monument pays tribute to the birth of the republic. It speaks to an American “in the beginning.” It stands for life. This constructed site has become sacred by virtue of its multiple political significations, and we as a people are responsible for its sanctification by making pilgrimage to it. And the Gettysburg battle effectively sealed the future of the Republic. The Civil War reconstructed and consolidated the nation’s founding. This blood-drenched, grave-filled ground verges on the inherently holy. Death made rebirth possible. Yet the very idea of sacred space in a democracy, whatever its mode of production, seems problematic — Babbitt’s presumption notwithstanding. That which is sacred, honoring the eternal and unchanging, symbolic of truth and fidelity, eliciting reverence and awe, demanding deference and devotion, committed to unity and consensus, runs counter to a vibrant democratic ethos featuring...