Tuesday, August 22, 2017

No Silence, No Acceptance.

There's a statue on Carolina's campus called Silent Sam. It's no more than 50 feet from the historical marker commemorating UNC's role in removing the 1963 Speaker Ban.

Those two mark, in my opinion, the best and the worst of my alma mater.

Silent Sam is, according to the nice, white-washed history that we're meant to believe, a "good" Confederate state. He's a monument to those who lost their lives. Because the soldier has no cartridge box, he's "silent". Because he's facing North, he's meant to indicate a notion of reconciliation that was, honestly, utterly missing in the time he was erected. We're meant to believe the statue was not erected until 1913 because the South was destitute, and it took them that long to raise the money.

Baloney, I say.

First of all, there is a perfectly good memorial to the Confederate soldiers a few hundred yards away from Silent Sam, which bears the names of the men who were killed in the war. It's called Memorial Hall, and I would venture a guess that any of you reading who attended Carolina, or live locally, have been there before. The memorial is actually outside, on the west side of the plaza, between Memorial and Phillips. True, it also lists those killed in other wars, but that leads me back to a complaint I've made before - if you believe that the Civil war needs its own memorial, but the other wars don't, that's an issue.

No, Silent Sam, like many Confederate statues, is not there for the men who were killed. It's there to remind African-Americans to keep their place. We've all seen the graphics about when Confederate "memorials" across the nation were erected; there were far more put up during the Jim Crow era and the Civil Rights era than immediately after the war. I do not believe that lack of funds was the primary reason. They were put up to remind black what their proper place was. To glorify a war that was about slavery. And to stroke the egos of those who could not let go.

If you doubt me, here's a link to Julian Carr's speech on the dedication of Silent Sam. Read it. It's not pleasant, but read it. He speaks about the Confederate soldiers role in "saving" the Anglo Saxon race after the war. He revels in his own horse-whipping of a "negro wench". And throughout is the not particularly subtle notion of, we were right, we are better, and you must never forget it. True, towards the end he briefly remarks that, as a unified country, we now believe that the war had to end as it did. But this is one paragraph after hundreds glorifying and sanctifying the war, and Southern "rights" and the nobility of the cause.

That is the worst of my alma mater. It always has been. It always will be.

But for years I consoled myself with what I considered to be the best of my alma mater; the way it worked with the town of Chapel Hill through the Speaker Ban of 1963. Not surprisingly, UNC has frequently been at odds with the North Carolina General Assembly; usually when there's a more conservative majority in the legislature. In the 60s, there were those who thought that UNC (and other universities in the system) were clouding student's minds with liberal speakers, and (gasp) maybe even Communists. UNC invoked the hatred of the legislature by protesting against segregation, and by inviting Communists to speak. The legislature made it illegal for a known Communist, or someone who had invoked the 5th Amendment when questioned about "subversive" actions, to speak on any UNC campus.

Many among the University community opposed the ban, and in 1965 the Student Body President invited two speakers who were banned. University police, as they had to, refused to let them speak on campus, so they promptly stood on the sidewalk on Franklin Street, just over the rock walls that line McCorkle place. The speakers were in Chapel Hill, the town, and students stood in the quad to listen. It highlighted the stupidity of the rule; banning a speaker from a place doesn't necessarily lessen their impact; whether through writings, or word of mouth, or simply stepping over a low stone wall, they can still reach an audience. Eventually, the law was overturned (by judges, not the NCGA).

Well, UNC has a chance again to work with the Town of Chapel Hill to do what's right. Unfortuneately, I'm not so sure that they will.

It is past time for Silent Sam to come down. People have been asking for the statue to come down since I was and undergraduate in the 1980s, and longer. To some extent, though, the University's hands are tied; our previous Governor made it virtually impossible to remove Confederate monuments on public land, even if the public entity in question wants the monument gone.

Pam Hemminger, the mayor of Chapel Hill, though, has written a letter to Chancellor Carol Folt calling for the removal of Silent Sam because of the danger it presents to the community. In her opinion, it is within the letter of the law to remove a monument to "protect" it. More importantly, she sees the truth; that if we pretend to protect Silent Sam, we're actually taking an important first step, and protecting our communities. All of our communities. Governor Roy Cooper, too, has expressed the opinion that the statue can come down if there's an "imminent threat".

There is a rally planned today, August 22, at Silent Sam. After what happened in Durham, I think it's safe to say that the wretched statue is under threat. After what happened in Charlottesville, I think it's safe to say that University students, or Chapel Hill residents are under threat. And yes, I am most worried because my son is a student at Chapel Hill, and plans on going to the rally. He's not happy that it has to occur, he's worried that it will get out of hand, but he's going. And I'm scared out of my mind, and will not rest easy today until it's all over and I hear from him. But I won't tell him not to go.

I will, however, tell Chancellor Folt what I think of her. She knows this is coming. She's had a request from the mayor of Chapel Hill to remove the statue before we have our own riot. She's had word from the Governor that she CAN remove the statue to prevent a threat.

But what she has done is sent students an email encouraging them to stay away. To not get involved. To look away, and stay as silent as that damned and damning statue.

We've all seen the phrase "Silence equals acceptance", whether in a work email, or on a t shirt. Gay activists in the 80s modified it somewhat to "Silence = death". But silence isn't always about being, literally, silent. Silence can also be diverting conversations, and ignoring them. Or deliberately talking about other things.

I hope that this is not another Charlottesville. The University has been rather vague on what sort of protest they're expecting, so I don't know if they think racists will be gathering to praise Sam, or liberal activists gathering to bury him. Either way, the existence of that statue is not only a stain on the University, it is now a danger to my boy. And Chancellor Folt has been given a road map on how to avoid that danger. Rather than use it, she's ignoring it.

And in her silence, she's endangering all of us.



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