Tearing Down Statues and Monuments May “Feel” Good Now, But It’s a Bad Idea
By: Monica Harris
Tags: Christopher Columbus, History, Racism, Princeton, Confederate Statues

As the old saying goes, “history is a set of lies agreed upon.”

It’s no secret that the people who determine how we remember our past have always distorted it in a way that suits them. This distortion is especially common when it comes to describing figures who have played an important role in shaping history — which brings us to Christopher Columbus, the man whose statues have suddenly gone missing around the country.

By all accounts, Columbus wasn’t a saint. There’s good reason to believe that colonists brutalized and enslaved indigenous tribes under his watch, and that his expeditions brought diseases that nearly exterminated entire populations. Oh, and as it turns out, he didn’t actually “discover” America; that honor belongs to the Vikings.

But Columbus wasn’t the only 15th-century explorer who misbehaved; Spanish conquistadors and missionaries routinely enslaved, tortured, and murdered native peoples in their conquest of the New World. The slave trade was also rampant in British and French colonies, with the blessing of European monarchs who reaped the rewards of their labor.

In other words, 600 years ago, “woke” men were in seriously short supply.

Yet despite his embarrassing record on human rights, Columbus accomplished something worth remembering because it dramatically altered the course of history and affected the lives of most of you reading this now: he unlocked the door to the New World.

Even as the Catholic Church and the scientific “experts” of the 15th century insisted that nothing lay beyond the European horizon, Columbus proved them wrong. And while his first voyages never took him further than the Caribbean, he inspired Juan Ponce de Leon and Amerigo Vespucci to discover lands that would change the course of history and billions of lives (these dudes weren’t “woke” either, by the way: de Leon became a slave owner, and Vespucci, who viewed natives as primitives with no understanding of “natural law,” profited heavily from the slave trade).

Fast forward six centuries to Woodrow Wilson.

While the 28th president of the United States was slightly more enlightened than Columbus by today’s standards, it’s important to remember what the social landscape looked like 100 years ago. Back then, white men could tie a black man to a tree and beat him like a dirty rug, grab any part of a woman’s body if she aroused him, and spit on a queer he passed on the street.

In other words, a century ago, “woke” white men were still in short supply. And the kicker? White men could do these things with impunity. It wouldn’t be breaking news in the media. No one would shame them. No one would care.

Of course, it’s easy to forget this today when white men’s careers are obliterated for making careless Tweets or having consensual sex with co-workers. But once upon a time, we lived in a different kind of world. And in our relentless pursuit of a better world, we’ve somehow forgotten the ugliness of the one we’ve left behind.

In this miserably primitive landscape, Wilson stood out — not for being as “woke” as white men are encouraged to be today, or even as “woke” as some other men of his day were with regard to race — but for being progressive on other levels we take for granted now.

Wilson was a staunch advocate for women’s rights when they were considered second class citizens, and his decisive support led to the passage of the 19th Amendment granting them the right to vote. He was instrumental in advancing child labor laws and securing an eight-hour day for railroad workers. He fought to keep America out of World War I. He spearheaded the creation of the League of Nations to maintain world peace after the war. And he nominated Louis Brandeis as the first Jewish judge to the U.S. Supreme Court in an age of rampant anti-Semitism.

To be clear, I’m not defending Wilson’s racist past; I’m making the point that, as is often the case with noteworthy people throughout history, his legacy is complicated because human beings are complicated. If we dig deeper into any historical figure’s accomplishments, we will inevitably learn things that inspire and disgust us. History isn’t made by heroes and villains; it’s fashioned by flesh and blood people like you and me who have strengths and weaknesses, enlightened thoughts and blind spots, accomplishments and failures.

In reckoning with the messiness of human nature, we need to ask ourselves whether the flaws of a historical figure should carry higher weight in our collective memory than their accomplishments. Because as the “woke” train accelerates and we dig deeper into our past, we’re going to uncover many things that will compel us to tear down more statues and monuments.

It’s only a matter of time before most Americans learn that their first president, George Washington, owned slaves; that half of the most prominent Founding Fathers — from Thomas Jefferson to Benjamin Franklin — held slaves; that William Clark, one half of the legendary team that explored and navigated America’s western frontier, did so with the assistance of a black man he “owned.” Not every white man kept slaves 300 years ago, but some of the most famous ones weren’t among the “enlightened.”

But does this mean we shouldn’t honor these men for launching a groundbreaking experiment that would ultimately entitle every person, regardless of sex or color, to be treated equally? Does this mean we shouldn’t memorialize a man who spent three years in an unknown wilderness, bravely forging a path that would allow settlers to build the western U.S.?

If we lift the hood and dig into the personal life of every white man on a statue or whose name adorns a library or school, we’ll find that almost none of them were “woke.” If we continue down this path, we’ll be compelled to completely “re-brand” America — stripping the faces of the men on our money, laying waste to monuments around the country, and tediously renaming parks, highways, and courthouses. Because the only white men “approved” for long-term public memory in America will be the ones born sometime after 1980.

Where will it end?

If we erect a monument to someone who discovers a cure for cancer, will we tear it down after we find out he made his female co-workers uncomfortable? Should our descendants remove it if they discover he engaged in behavior that’s commonplace now but may be considered offensive decades later?

What price should those we honor today pay for not living up to the standards society sets tomorrow?