I speak (for friends out there who do not know) as a journalist/historian who has spent most of my career writing about civil rights and racial injustice. I speak also as the descendant of slave-owners, and more recently, as the son and grandson of men and women who supported, less and less certainly in the course of their lives, the cause of white supremacy and segregation. This is a cause I abhor.
What I have wrestled with over the years is the ability of good people - people I knew to possess many decent and admirable qualities - to believe in hideous and indecent things. During the 150th anniversary of the Civil War, I wrote a short book called Journey to the Wilderness, later adapted as a documentary film, about the Civil War letters written by ancestors of mine who fought for the Confederacy. Those letters are filled, not with the sense of a glorious Lost Cause, but with reflections on loss and bloodshed and pain. I concluded that the Civil War, measured by these real-time descriptions, was a terrible American tragedy with only one beneficial outcome - the end of slavery. (I suppose we could add the preservation of the Union.)
And so I understand the feeling of the descendants of slaves who abhor monuments to the Confederacy erected to glorify white supremacy. And make no mistake, that is why most of these monuments were erected, for they appeared at a time when lynching was rampant, and Jim Crow laws were being established, and African Americans were being stripped of the vote. A shameful time in American history.
And yet... I have to admit that I wince when some of the journalists I most admire - Chris Hayes and Lawrence O'Donnell, for example, of MSNBC - dismiss the PEOPLE behind these monuments with terms like "racist traitors." Yes, they were racists; so were most white Americans, including many abolitionists who hated the institution of slavery, but very often doubted the moral and intellectual equality of black Americans. And yes, legally, they were traitors to the Union. But I have always winced at terms that dehumanize, that fail to capture the tragic complexity of the human condition.
When I read today that Princeton University, the alma mater of President Woodrow Wilson, had stripped his name from the school at the university to which it was attached, I confess that I had mixed feelings. Yes, of course, Woodrow Wilson was a racist. More virulent, in fact, than most. He arranged for a private showing at the White House of the film Birth of a Nation, which glorified the Ku Klux Klan. As the great Jelani Cobb has written, this fact alienated African American students at Princeton when they saw Wilson's name honored and glorified. Of course it did.
But there is also this. Woodrow Wilson was one of three American presidents to win the Nobel Peace Prize. (Barack Obama and Jimmy Carter were the other two; and Carter, who should have received it for his role in the Camp David Peace Accords, only won the recognition as ex-president.) Wilson also was one of the foremost proponents of the League of Nations - forerunner of the United Nations - in hopes of finding a way to resolve international disputes without war in the wake of the carnage of WWI. And Wilson was also the American president who renounced imperialism as a cornerstone of American foreign policy.
What are we to do with these complexities? What are we to do with the fact that in his day, one of the most prominent opponents of Confederate memorials was Robert E. Lee? What do we do with the fact that the author of the words, "All men are created equal" owned slaves. I worry that in our rush to tear down monuments, we are tearing down the human complexity of our history. Maybe it's a casualty of the times. I understand that this is not my moment. I am an old white guy, and all of us should understand the pervasive oppressiveness of white privilege, and the pain and rage that it induces.
But I do believe in the peril of misunderstanding our common humanity. More substantially, I worry that the eradication of memorials and monuments will distract us from the much harder work that needs to be done - the dismantling of systemic racism in so many facets of American life: from policing, to health care, to the suppression of the vote, and thus the subversion of our democracy. This is a hard and promising time, so full of danger and so full of hope. We will see where it take us.
Other views are welcome.