Since around 2004, my main area of research has been on contemporary literature and film of the Spanish Civil War and Francoism. Therefore, whenever I hear "civil war," my first reaction is to think of Spain. The American Civil War (1861-65) is, quite frankly, something that has never really piqued my interest. I guess when I think of this period of American history, the image that comes to mind is my high school A.P (advanced placement) history class, where the teacher spent a large part of the period reading the newspaper while we "did homework." I did not learn anything in that class, and I did not get college credit for it either (instead, in college, at the wonderful suggestion of an adviser, I ended up taking "Black Experience I and II," which were two of the best history classes never taught in high school -- at least, not mine). In addition to my dreary high school history experience, the American Civil War also brings to mind Civil War re-enactments or the burning passion some still feel for the Confederate flag. It's difficult for me to relate to the desire to live or pay homage to our history in either of these ways.
Over the past few weeks, I have begun to notice more and more mentions of the American Civil War. One of my favorite poetry sites, Poetry Daily, featured James Doyle's "Civil War Photograph." I heard that the USPS will be releasing commemorative Civil War stamps in 2011. And today's NYT features a new occasional series, "Disunion," which "follows the Civil War as it unfolded." Of course, the renewed interest in the war is due to the fact that 2011 is the 150th anniversary of its beginning. We are sure to see an increase in the number of films, publications and commentary -- and probably, commemorative activities -- on the war.
The 150th commemoration of the start of the American Civil War comes at a time of extreme political vitriol in the United States. It is not at all surprising to encounter some rather casual and more explicit Civil War allusions in the verbal sparring between Democrats, Republicans and Tea Partiers and in the neo-confederate tributes to the so-called "War for Southern Independence" such as the ones below:
December 2010: South Carolina's "Secession Gala," which remembered the state as the first to secede from the U.S., was met by protests (of course, "states' rights" is a huge Tea Party focal point, so it's a convenient way to tie the Civil War memory to current day agendas)
I must admit, I feel a new interest in learning about the American Civil War, thanks to studying the Spanish Civil War -- and particularly, how it continues to be remembered. But as with the SCW, I am especially intrigued by how the memory of war continues to mark the contemporary political landscape. Obviously, there is quite a difference between "remembering" a war that began 150 years ago and one that occurred in the 20th century (2011 is 75 years since the start of the war in Spain). The case of Spain is complicated, besides, by 36 years of dictatorship, the "pact of silence" and the fact that mass graves continue to be uncovered today (though of course, a majority of these graves are not from the war itself, but the brutal postwar repression). In the U.S., no one can say they recall the war, while in Spain, the war's survivors have passed or will do so soon. Nonetheless, the shelf life of a civil war is long. 150 years may seem like an eternity, but many are more than happy to make the past quite present, if only to help feed current political interests. In that, Spain and the U.S. have something in common.
Contemporary Art and Memory Images of Recollection and Remembrance Joan Gibbons
I.B. Tauris, January 2008 ISBN: 978-1-84511-619-4, ISBN10: 1-84511-619-4, 6 1/8 x 9 1/4 inches, 344 pages, 30 b/w illus.,
Description: Contemporary Art and Memory is the first accessible survey book to explore the subject of memory as it appears in its many guises in contemporary art. Looking at both personal and public memory, Gibbons explores art as autobiography, the memory as trace, the role of the archive, revisionist memory and postmemory, as well as the absence of memory in oblivion.
Grounding her discussion in historical precedents, Gibbons explores the work of a wide range of international artists including Yinka Shonibare MBE, Doris Salcedo, Keith Piper, Jeremy Deller, Judy Chicago, Louise Bourgeois, Tracey Emin, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Christian Boltanski, Janet Cardiff, Bill Fontana, Pierre Huyghe, Susan Hiller, Japanese photographer Miyako Ishiuchi and new media artist George Legrady. Contemporary Art and Memory will be indispensable to all those concerned with the ways in which artists represent and remember the past.
Joan Gibbons is Senior Lecturer at the University of Central England in Birmingham and Course Director, MA Contemporary Curatorial Practice. She is the author of Art and Advertising (I.B.Tauris).
As the labels of this blog suggest, I have thus far spent considerably more time posting on news from other countries regarding memory, amnesia and politics, while giving domestic news less coverage. There is no secret motive here. On a daily basis, I listen to, watch and read news from the U.S. Of course I am keenly interested in what goes on in this country, but I am even more intrigued by the news coming out of the international press (international news can often be hard to come by or superficially-treated in the mainstream U.S. media). I believe it is essential -- a duty, even -- for every citizen, in any country, to familiarize him or herself with current events, from a variety of perspectives. Part of understanding one's own country comes from observing and reflecting upon how that country is perceived abroad.
As a rule, I do not believe in political apathy. I think it is dangerous, or at least irresponsible, for those living in a democratic society to proclaim "not to care" about politics. Cynicism about today's political landscape is understandable; however, refusing to be informed or to reflect upon current debates because it is easier to do so is simply unacceptable! I can say this now, but I am rather ashamed to admit that when I was 18, I actually recall telling my parents I did not want to vote, because it was my "right" not to do so. My parents tried to drive home the point that voting was a privilege not afforded to everyone, and yet, in my teenage mind, it seemed easier to just "opt out" of politics. The first election I voted in was 1992. Yet it was really after 9-11 that I began to make politics a part of my daily life.
Perhaps because I have made the study of memory a part of my life as well, I am even more drawn to stories such as those that follow this introduction. Each of these reports suggest a bold, blatant - and, what is worse, initially uncontested -- erasure of one of most traumatic events in American history, 9-11. Such stories merit serious attention, and demand an explanation, regardless of one's political ideology.
Let's begin with the more recent story. Yesterday, on the TV program Good Morning America (see video below), former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani claimed, in conversation with George Stephanopoulos, that "we had no domestic attacks under Bush. We've had one under Obama."
According to an article in the Boston Herald, Giuliani later told CNN's Wolf Blitzer that he misspoke. Stephanopoulos, a former political adviser under President Clinton and a veteran television news analyst, was later raked across the coals for failing to press Giuliani further. A report that appeared yesterday in the New York Times, however, focused less on the absurdity of Giuliani's claim, and more on "Stephanopoulos's red face."
I find Giuliani's statement less troubling for what he says, and more for what he doesn't. Just a few posts ago, I spoke about the construction of amnesia in the film The Headless Woman. In the television appearance, Rudy Giuliani actively engages in a revision of 9-11. In fact, it might be better to call this "revision" a non-vision. Spanish historians have argued, in recent analyses of revisionist movements in Spain, for a more suitable term; I agree that "revisionism" is a misnomer, for most revisionists do not seek to "re-vise" or "re-view" the past, but to erase an existing narrative and replace it with an earlier one, or to forge a new tale entirely by appropriating and manipulating existing narratives.
In the video clip, Giuliani -- significantly, for better or worse still the "face" of 9-11 for many Americans (he is still often referred to as "America's mayor") -- omits the naming of 9-11 entirely, opting instead to reference the fatal shooting rampage at Ford Hood (Texas) in November. Here, Giuliani counts on putting fear back in operation: under Obama, we are not safe, under Bush, we were. Giuliani's statement suggests, thanks to what he does not say, that 9-11 did not happen while George W. Bush was president. Giuliani, criticized by many on both the left and right for appropriating 9-11 for personal political gain, has here determined that 9-11 is "that which shall remain nameless." Giuliani's spokeswoman tried to patch over the mess by issuing a statement that the former mayor was "clearly talking post-9/11 with regard to Islamic terrorist attacks on our soil." If that is the case, how do we explain the utter absence of 9-11 from the discussion?
One might say that perhaps we are taking the idea of "amnesia" or forgetting of 9-11 too far with regard to the Good Morning America video. And yet. . .just a few months ago, we witnessed an even more abhorrent statement, also issued in the wake of the Ft. Hood attacks, by former Bush White House spokesperson Dana Perino.
In an appearance on Fox News, Dana Perino stated: "We did not have a terrorist attack on our country during President Bush's term."
Although Giuliani and Perino are Republicans, people in all political parties in this country ought to be deeply disturbed by their remarks, which are historically, factually incorrect statements! George Stephanopoulos, and the Fox reporters interviewing Perino, ought to be held accountable as well for allowing their interviews to proceed after their interviewees made such ludicrous statements. Yes, it is critical to make clear that 9-11 did happen under George W. Bush -- Stephanopoulos, the Fox anchors, and whoever else involved had an obligation to assert that information, publicly, at the moment -- not in a statement issued after the fact. By refusing to acknowledge 9-11, and by establishing the idea that domestic attacks "did not happen" under the previous president, Giuliani and Perino effectively wipe clean the slate of the past. They almost seem to be readying the landscape for a re-writing of 9-11, a time in which they might claim, as Mary Matalin does below, that 9-11 was "inherited" from the previous (read: Clinton) administration:
There are many, many other troubling stories about the re-construction of 9-11 in our current political environment. I would like to end with this quote from Marc Howard Ross, in the book Understanding September 11. Ross's chapter, titled "The Political Psychology of Competing Narratives: September 11 and Beyond," reminds us that we must not only look at what a narrative says but what it doesn't say:
Narratives can be analyzed in several ways. Of great significance to an analysis is what a narrative includes and excludes. Often opposing parties' narratives do not directly contradict each other. Rather, opponents draw on distinct metaphors, emphasize different actions, cite clashing motivations, and communicate opposing affect to such an extent that it is sometimes hard for a naive observer to recognize that the narratives protagonists offer are often describing the same conflict. On the surface level, narratives are stories about the unfolding of events. At a deeper level, they reveal something about the motivations and reactions of the parties. . .(304).
