At the March for Our Lives, Emma Gonzalez spoke for about two minutes, mostly naming the students and teachers who were shot and killed in her Florida high school on February 14. Then she went silent. Four minutes later she spoke again: “Since the time I came out here it has been six minutes and 20 seconds…” — the length of time the gunman shot his weapon that day.
Emma’s silence was unbearable for the crowd. They tried to end it with chants of “never again” or “we’re with you Emma.” To no avail.
The earliest Easter narrative is about silence, beginning with the horror of the Good Friday’s violence and continuing to an empty tomb. Like the crowd in Washington, we cannot bear the silence. We try to end it with a fairy tale suitable for the youngest of children complete with flowers, bunnies and colorful eggs. To no avail. The Good Friday violence continues to be suffered by so many around the world.
Like Emma’s silence, the liturgical silences we begin Palm Sunday and Good Friday enable us to receive and hear the testimony of the victims of violence in its many forms. Their testimony, their cries, are not easy to listen to. The silence in which they emerge is not easy to bear. But unless we learn to bear those silences, it is unlikely we will find the courage to change anything.
This is not to say that we should not, on an Easter Sunday, be glad, make noise and sing songs. But if we do, let it not be because “the strife is o’er.” Let it be because we are willing to bear the silence and receive its testimonies. Let it be because we know the strife is not over, and because we are resolved to do what it takes to bring the victory of real change.
Trump says he is not a racist. His words and actions tell a different story: the story of a man unashamed of his own racist anger and hatred.
See this: “Donald Trump’s Racism: The Definitive List,” NYT Opinion, 1/18/2018.
His devotees rarely wear pointy white hoods anymore,
and they are happy to follow him.
They just don’t believe him when he says he is not a racist or white supremacist.
Neither should we.
Mitch Landrieu’s speech is the best thing I have read about the Confederate statutes to date. It was given in May when the last of four confederate monuments in New Orleans was removed. (The City Council had approved the removals in 2015.) The last statute was of Robert E. Lee. The complete text of Landrieu’s speech follows, as reported by the New Orleans Times-Picayune. It is worth reading.
Thank you for coming.
The soul of our beloved city is deeply rooted in a history that has evolved over thousands of years; rooted in a diverse people who have been here together every step of the way—for both good and for ill. It is a history that holds in its heart the stories of Native Americans—the Choctaw, Houma Nation, the Chitimacha. Of Hernando de Soto, Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle, the Acadians, the Islenos, the enslaved people from Senegambia, Free People of Colorix, the Haitians, the Germans, both the empires of France and Spain. The Italians, the Irish, the Cubans, the south and central Americans, the Vietnamese, and so many more.
You see, New Orleans is truly a city of many nations, a melting pot, a bubbling cauldron of many cultures. There is no other place quite like it in the world that so eloquently exemplifies the uniquely American motto: e pluribus unum: out of many we are one. But there are also other truths about our city that we must confront. New Orleans was America’s largest slave market, a port where hundreds of thousands of souls were bought, sold, and shipped up the Mississippi River to lives of forced labor, of misery, of rape, of torture. America was the place where nearly 4000 of our fellow citizens were lynched, 540 alone in Louisiana; where the courts enshrined “separate but equal”; where Freedom riders coming to New Orleans were beaten to a bloody pulp. So when people say to me that the monuments in question are history, well, what I just described is real history as well, and it is the searing truth.
And it immediately begs the questions, why there are no slave ship monuments, no prominent markers on public land to remember the lynchings or the slave blocks; nothing to remember this long chapter of our lives; the pain, the sacrifice, the shame … all of it happening on the soil of New Orleans. So for those self-appointed defenders of history and the monuments, they are eerily silent on what amounts to this historical malfeasance, a lie by omission. There is a difference between remembrance of history and reverence of it.
For America and New Orleans, it has been a long, winding road, marked by great tragedy and great triumph. But we cannot be afraid of our truth. As President George W. Bush said at the dedication ceremony for the National Museum of African American History & Culture, “A great nation does not hide its history. It faces its flaws and corrects them.” So today I want to speak about why we chose to remove these four monuments to the Lost Cause of the Confederacy, but also how and why this process can move us towards healing and understanding of each other. So, let’s start with the facts.
The historic record is clear: The Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, and P.G.T. Beauregard statues were not erected just to honor these men, but as part of the movement which became known as The Cult of the Lost Cause. This “cult” had one goal—through monuments and through other means—to rewrite history to hide the truth, which is that the Confederacy was on the wrong side of humanity. First erected over 166 years after the founding of our city and 19 years after the end of the Civil War, the monuments that we took down were meant to rebrand the history of our city and the ideals of a defeated Confederacy. It is self-evident that these men did not fight for the United States of America. They fought against it. They may have been warriors, but in this cause they were not patriots. These statues are not just stone and metal. They are not just innocent remembrances of a benign history. These monuments purposefully celebrate a fictional, sanitized Confederacy, ignoring the death, ignoring the enslavement and the terror that it actually stood for.
After the Civil War, these statues were a part of that terrorism as much as a burning cross on someone’s lawn; they were erected purposefully to d a strong message to all who walked in their shadows about who was still in charge in this city. Should you have further doubt about the true goals of the Confederacy, in the very weeks before the war broke out, the Vice President of the Confederacy, Alexander Stephens, made it clear that the Confederate cause was about maintaining slavery and white supremacy. He said in his now famous “corner-stone speech” that the Confederacy’s “cornerstone rests upon the great truth, that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery—subordination to the superior race—is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first in the history of the world based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth.”
Now, with these shocking words still ringing in your ears, I want to try to gently peel from your hands the grip on a false narrative of our history that I think weakens us, and make straight a wrong turn we made many years ago. We can more closely connect with integrity to the founding principles of our nation and forge a clearer and straighter path toward a better city and a more perfect union.
Last year, President Barack Obama echoed these sentiments about the need to contextualize and remember all our history. He recalled a piece of stone, a slave auction block engraved with a marker commemorating a single moment in 1830 when Andrew Jackson and Henry Clay stood and spoke from it. President Obama said, “Consider what this artifact tells us about history. … On a stone where day after day for years, men and women … bound and bought and sold and bid like cattle on a stone worn down by the tragedy of over a thousand bare feet. For a long time the only thing we considered important, the singular thing we once chose to commemorate as history with a plaque, were the unmemorable speeches of two powerful men.”
A piece of stone—one stone. Both stories were history. One story told. One story forgotten or maybe even purposefully ignored. As clear as it is for me today … for a long time, even though I grew up in one of New Orleans’ most diverse neighborhoods, even with my family’s long proud history of fighting for civil rights … I must have passed by those monuments a million times without giving them a second thought. So I am not judging anybody, I am not judging people. We all take our own journey on race.
I just hope people listen like I did when my dear friend Wynton Marsalis helped me see the truth. He asked me to think about all the people who have left New Orleans because of our exclusionary attitudes. Another friend asked me to consider these four monuments from the perspective of an African American mother or father trying to explain to their fifth-grade daughter who Robert E. Lee is and why he stands atop of our beautiful city. Can you do it? Can you look into that young girl’s eyes and convince her that Robert E. Lee is there to encourage her? Do you think she will feel inspired and hopeful by that story? Do these monuments help her see a future with limitless potential? Have you ever thought that if her potential is limited, yours and mine are too? We all know the answer to these very simple questions. When you look into this child’s eyes is the moment when the searing truth comes into focus for us. This is the moment when we know what is right and what we must do. We can’t walk away from this truth.
And I knew that taking down the monuments was going to be tough, but you elected me to do the right thing, not the easy thing and this is what that looks like. So relocating these Confederate monuments is not about taking something away from someone else. This is not about politics. This is not about blame or retaliation. This is not a naive quest to solve all our problems at once.
This is, however, about showing the whole world that we as a city and as a people are able to acknowledge, understand, reconcile and most importantly, choose a better future for ourselves, making straight what has been crooked and making right what was wrong. Otherwise, we will continue to pay a price with discord, with division and, yes, with violence.
To literally put the Confederacy on a pedestal in our most prominent places of honor is an inaccurate recitation of our full past. It is an affront to our present, and it is a bad prescription for our future. History cannot be changed. It cannot be moved like a statue. What is done is done. The Civil War is over, and the Confederacy lost and we are better for it. Surely we are far enough removed from this dark time to acknowledge that the cause of the Confederacy was wrong.
And in the second decade of the 21st century, asking African Americans—or anyone else—to drive by property that they own; occupied by reverential statues of men who fought to destroy the country and deny that person’s humanity seems perverse and absurd. Centuries-old wounds are still raw because they never healed right in the first place. Here is the essential truth: We are better together than we are apart.
Indivisibility is our essence. Isn’t this the gift that the people of New Orleans have given to the world? We radiate beauty and grace in our food, in our music, in our architecture, in our joy of life, in our celebration of death; in everything that we do. We gave the world this funky thing called jazz, the most uniquely American art form that is developed across the ages from different cultures. Think about second lines, think about Mardi Gras, think about muffaletta, think about the Saints, gumbo, red beans and rice. By God, just think.
All we hold dear is created by throwing everything in the pot; creating, producing something better; everything a product of our historic diversity. We are proof that out of many we are one—and better for it! Out of many we are one—and we really do love it! And yet, we still seem to find so many excuses for not doing the right thing. Again, remember President Bush’s words. “A great nation does not hide its history. It faces its flaws and corrects them.”
We forget, we deny how much we really depend on each other, how much we need each other. We justify our silence and inaction by manufacturing noble causes that marinate in historical denial. We still find a way to say, “Wait, not so fast.” But like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Wait has almost always meant never.” We can’t wait any longer. We need to change. And we need to change now.
No more waiting. This is not just about statues, this is about our attitudes and behavior as well. If we take these statues down and don’t change to become a more open and inclusive society this would have all been in vain. While some have driven by these monuments every day and either revered their beauty or failed to see them at all, many of our neighbors and fellow Americans see them very clearly. Many are painfully aware of the long shadows their presence casts; not only literally but figuratively. And they clearly receive the message that the Confederacy and the cult of the lost cause intended to deliver.
Earlier this week, as the cult of the lost cause statue of P.G.T Beauregard came down, world renowned musician Terence Blanchard stood watch, his wife Robin and their two beautiful daughters at their side. Terence went to a high school on the edge of City Park named after one of America’s greatest heroes and patriots, John F. Kennedy. But to get there he had to pass by this monument to a man who fought to deny him his humanity.
He said, “I’ve never looked at them as a source of pride … it’s always made me feel as if they were put there by people who don’t respect us. This is something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime. It’s a sign that the world is changing.” Yes, Terence, it is. And it is long overdue. Now is the time to send a new message to the next generation of New Orleanians who can follow in Terence and Robin’s remarkable footsteps.
A message about the future, about the next 300 years and beyond: Let us not miss this opportunity, New Orleans, and let us help the rest of the country do the same. Because now is the time for choosing. Now is the time to actually make this the City we always should have been, had we gotten it right in the first place.
We should stop for a moment and ask ourselves: At this point in our history—after Katrina, after Rita, after Ike, after Gustav, after the national recession, after the BP oil catastrophe and after the tornado—if presented with the opportunity to build monuments that told our story or to curate these particular spaces, would these monuments be what we want the world to see? Is this really our story?
We have not erased history; we are becoming part of the city’s history by righting the wrong image these monuments represent and crafting a better, more complete future for all our children and for future generations. And unlike when these Confederate monuments were first erected as symbols of white supremacy, we now have a chance to create not only new symbols, but to do it together, as one people. In our blessed land we all come to the table of democracy as equals. We have to reaffirm our commitment to a future where each citizen is guaranteed the uniquely American gifts of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
That is what really makes America great and today it is more important than ever to hold fast to these values and together say a self-evident truth that out of many we are one. That is why today we reclaim these spaces for the United States of America. Because we are one nation, not two; indivisible with liberty and justice for all, not some. We all are part of one nation, all pledging allegiance to one flag, the flag of the United States of America. And New Orleanians are in … all of the way. It is in this union and in this truth that real patriotism is rooted and flourishes. Instead of revering a 4-year brief historical aberration that was called the Confederacy, we can celebrate all 300 years of our rich, diverse history as a place named New Orleans, and set the tone for the next 300 years.
After decades of public debate, of anger, of anxiety, of anticipation, of humiliation and of frustration. After public hearings and approvals from three separate community led commissions. After two robust public hearings and a 6–1 vote by the duly elected New Orleans City Council. After review by 13 different federal and state judges. The full weight of the legislative, executive, and judicial branches of government has been brought to bear and the monuments, in accordance with the law, have been removed. So now is the time to come together and heal and focus on our larger task. Not only building new symbols, but making this city a beautiful manifestation of what is possible and what we as a people can become.
Let us remember what the once exiled, imprisoned, and now universally loved Nelson Mandela and what he said after the fall of apartheid. “If the pain has often been unbearable and the revelations shocking to all of us, it is because they indeed bring us the beginnings of a common understanding of what happened and a steady restoration of the nation’s humanity.” So before we part let us again state the truth clearly.
The Confederacy was on the wrong side of history and humanity. It sought to tear apart our nation and subjugate our fellow Americans to slavery. This is the history we should never forget and one that we should never again put on a pedestal to be revered. As a community, we must recognize the significance of removing New Orleans’ Confederate monuments. It is our acknowledgment that now is the time to take stock of, and then move past, a painful part of our history.
Anything less would render generations of courageous struggle and soul-searching a truly lost cause. Anything less would fall short of the immortal words of our greatest president, Abraham Lincoln, who with an open heart and clarity of purpose calls on us today to unite as one people when he said, “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds … to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”
The daily (sometimes hourly) dispatches from the Trump White House and/or GOP-controlled congress are horrific and overwhelming. On this Fourth of July, it feels as though there is so much less to celebrate and be proud of, and that is such a depressing thought.
I recently found two things that helped by re-focusing on something that I have long believed: that what we read and listen to and watch on TV forms and shapes us. And so we are responsible for managing who and what we give our attention to. Here is how I have taken back my responsibility.
- I have stopped following Trump’s tweets. I started following them during the campaign. They seemed to be newsworthy and some said the tweets were an evolution in media akin to Kennedy’s use of TV. History will tell if that is true. In the meantime, the content of his tweets is appalling and shameful and fouls my mental environment. I am no longer giving them my time or attention.
- I have started watching reruns of The West Wing. The 7 season series is available on Netflix. After each episode, I listen to a podcast called The West Wing Weekly — a weekly 1 hour-ish show hosted by Josh Malina (Will Bailey on WW) and Hrishi Hirway. They offer a fascinating commentary on each episode with lots of backstory and historical context and often guest interviews with actors, production folk, or people with real world information about issues raised in an episode.
In watching the show, I am reminded of the things that once made me proud. I am reminded of all those who regarded public service as a high calling and who served at great personal cost to themselves and their families. I am reminded of Presidents who inspired others to do better and greater things to advance the common good. I am reminded of Presidents and members of Congress and staff who took mutual respect and civility for granted, even when there was disagreement. It feels good to be reminded of these things.
Perhaps the message here is that for as long as we have to swim in the stink of Trumpworld, it is our responsibility to maintain our own sense of what is right and fitting for publicly elected officials and for ourselves as ordinary citizens. We cannot continue to Resist if we let ourselves and our expectations sink to the low levels of Trumpworld. We need to keep up both our expectations and our spirits. We need to Resist and keep our hearts and minds unsullied and healthy. The West Wing is helping me with both.
We have the recent news about Russian hacking of the November election thanks to a leaker who has now been indicted. According to today’s NYT, “In a statement, the deputy attorney general, Rod J. Rosenstein (said)… ‘Releasing classified material without authorization threatens our nation’s security and undermines public faith in government… People who are trusted with classified information and pledge to protect it must be held accountable when they violate that obligation.'” (Emphasis added.)
Sadly, the AG is apparently taking no action with respect to President Trump who “declassifies” military intelligence, uncounselled and on a whim (threatening our nation’s security and undermining the international community’s trust in our government) and who routinely lies to the American public in the performance of duties he undertook pursuant to oath (undermining the American public’s faith in the government.)
The election hack leaker has been indicted for enabling publication of the truth. Sometimes being a leaker is an act of patriotism. Now may be one of those times. There have been others. The linked episode of the podcast “Reveal” (below) tells the story about one of those times — the leaking and publication of the Pentagon Papers in 1971. Even if you think you know the story, the podcast is worth your time.
Dear Mr President,
During the campaign you told the American people that you had a magnificent health care plan. I did not believe you. For that and many other reasons, I did not vote for you. Hillary Clinton got nearly 3 million more votes than you did and your victory in the Electoral College was by one of the smallest percentages ever. Nonetheless, by virtue of our laws you became the President. I don’t like it, but it is my responsibility to respect the office and whoever undertakes its responsibilities. That is one of my jobs as a citizen.
Your job as President is to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution. The Constitution requires that you “take care that the laws be faithfully executed.” Art.II, Sec.3. This applies to the laws you personally like and the laws you don’t like. The ACA is still the law of the land. It is your job to faithfully uphold that law. Do your job.
It would be a dereliction of your constitutional duties to use your administration to aggravate the deficiencies of the ACA or conspire with insurance companies to undermine the means by which millions of American access basic health care. You said that letting the ACA “explode” would be the smart thing to do politically. Maybe. But as the President you are more than a politician. You are a public servant with a high moral obligation to care for the welfare of ALL Americans. You are the President. Do your job.
To enhance and improve the ACA will be an unwelcome task given your personal opinions on the health care system. The burdens of the office of President are many, grave and all difficult to bear I have no doubt. But your job was not cast upon you by fate or inheritance. You sought it out. You worked for it. You enlisted others to help you campaign for it, and you won it. You wanted to be the President. You are the President. So now, do your job.