Burning Symbols: An Essay on Idolatry and Freedom of Speech By Gregory Fried Feb. 2000

    Symbols matter. In the late 1980's, President George Bush helped to whip up a political mini-frenzy about what he deemed a grave threat to the nation's honor: desecration of the American flag. Bush lent his support to legislation, and failing that, even to a constitutional amendment, to ban desecration of the flag. This was not simply a right-wing cause; numerous Democratic legislators gave support to this movement to save the flag, and the resolutely liberal Harvard constitutional law expert, Larry Tribe, offered testimony before Congress arguing that a law protecting the flag could pass muster on First Amendment grounds. Ten years later, another Bush Š George W. Š is running for President, and another flag has captured the nation's political attention: the battle flag of the Confederate States of America, flying atop the South Carolina state house dome.

     What's in a symbol? Ten years ago, the kind of images that gripped censorial patriots were old clips of Vietnam era anti-war protesters burning the flag and scenes of past and present anti-American rallies around the world burning, again, the Stars and Stripes. The crystallizing event of the day came in Chicago, where a student artist had displayed a work that included an American flag placed on the floor in front of a urinal, clearly presenting the scenario that to relieve oneself, one would have to step on the flag. Veterans protested, but the Art Institute of Chicago refused to remove the installation. One of most forceful arguments made by supporters of legislation against flag desecration was that citizens who had served their country, who had risked their lives, shed their blood, and seen comrades die under fire, should not have to be exposed to such a gross insult to their sensibilities. To burn or otherwise desecrate the flag, they argued, is not true speech but an act intended only to hurt and offend. It was on these grounds that some on the left supported going so far as to amend the Constitution. As a symbol, they said, the flag represents the soul of the nation, the essence of the idea that we form a united community. On this point, left and right agreed. To allow an assault on the symbol of that community is to threaten a bond that must be treated as inviolate, as sacred. Hence the very deliberate language of desecration on both left and right; the flag became the symbol of a state religion.

     But it is exactly on this point that I part company with the flag legislators. To talk of desecrating the flag demonstrates that it has shifted from serving as a symbol of the nation to become an idol of the nation. Of course, we have elaborate rituals that dictate the proper treatment of the flag: for example, it must not touch the ground, and when it gets worn out, it should be - burned. A symbol may be honored, even revered, not for itself, but for what it represents; such rituals do not amount to idolatry. In the case of the American flag, what it most properly represents is a collection of interrelated principles, including representative democracy, equality of citizens before the law, and freedom to develop and express one's own ideas. The Constitution gives legal recognition to the last of these as the right to free speech in the First Amendment. This recognition underlines something fundamental about the American experiment in self-government, because it holds that what is most important to a free people is the right, in the service of an as-yet unaccepted opinion, to rise above whatever the current orthodoxy might hold the truth to be.

     Of course, such controversial opinions may be crack-pot, false, or even dangerous. But the defining spirit of our nation is that we are healthier for being open to hearing these arguments because, in the end, we have faith that citizens will believe what is right because they choose to do so, not because the law forces them. Yes, flag-burning is deeply offensive to many decent Americans, but it is just as certainly a form of speech: it is an act that declares that America has failed to live up to its own ideals, or even that its ideals are false. These views may not be popular, but they surely are political ideas, and they deserve to be answered by reasoned argument, not by the muzzle of law. Openness to as-yet unrecognized truth is more important than any feelings of attachment to received opinion. How else would we have arrived at the understanding that the assertion that "all men are created equal" in fact implies that slavery goes against the defining principles of our nation and that not just men but women, too, deserve equal civil rights? In fact, freedom of speech as a defining principle of our regime requires that we be prepared to suffer hurt feelings, because controversial views are by their nature distressing and disturbing. The uniting civic virtue that the nation depends upon is that we all aspire to the courage to hear and debate such views without resorting to force, whether legal or illegal, to resolve disputes over fundamental principles.

     To treat the flag as a sacred object, by contrast, is to treat it as an idol rather than a symbol. An idol does not simply represent something sacred - it is what is sacred. When a flag or some other symbol of the nation becomes an idol, what has happened is that one has come to treat the nation itself as an object of worship. The sheer fact that one shares a communal bond with people now trumps other claims to oneÕs allegiance, such as the principle of freedom of speech. But do not many or most of the patriots who defend the flag profess final allegiance to God, not to an earthly authority? Perhaps, but this is precisely what is most disturbing about the movement against flag desecration. To make an idol of the flag is to declare that the bonds of community as community are more important than what transcends any existing community: the possibility of a truth which offends the community's sensibilities and which demands that the community reconstitute itself in order to uphold justice. Idolatry is debased because in sanctifying whatever the community already is, it refuses to acknowledge the disturbing possibility of transcendence

.    The Founders of the American regime professed equality while denying it to slaves and to women. The overwhelming sentiment of the "community" in 1776 was that such denials were justified. But the historical truth of the American founding was something that worked itself out, and is still working itself out, through history. If the American flag represents anything, it does so as a symbol of this community's ability to seek out and respond to its own historical truth, despite the pain such development causes. Surely what our own revolution asserted was that the truth and justice are more important than any already-constituted community and its form of government. To foreclose on transcending the received dogmas of one's age is to foreclose on any given community's ability to respond to the as-yet unrealized truth of its own history. Idolatry is love of the self gone bad.

     To make what is at stake here more vivid, consider the following thought experiment. Let's say you support an amendment to the Constitution forbidding desecration of the fla. You do so on the grounds that it is such a deep offense to decent citizens' sensibilities that it cannot be allowed. Now, what if a lawmaker were to advocate attaching a rider to this proposed amendment banning cross-burning? Surely the reasons to ban cross-burning are, if not identical, then very similar to those for banning flag-burning. The burning cross, as a symbol deployed by the Ku Klux Klan and other racist groups in this nation's history, is as grave an assault against the deepest feelings of most Americans as burning the flag. One might argue that the cross is not the symbol of our nation, but in a sense, that is precisely the point. What does it say about us that we would defend as sacred a symbol of the nation rather than a symbol of a religion that purports to transcend all earthly allegiance? I venture to guess that far more Americans have died at the hands of cross-burners than flag-burners or pretentious and disaffected artists.

     But very well. Let's strike the anti-cross-burning rider to the flag-protection amendment. Here's another rider to consider instead: that no state of the union be allowed to display on any official governmental building or device, in any form whatsoever, any symbol of the Confederate States of America, in whole or in part, including the Confederate battle flag. (So private displays of the rebel flag on bumper stickers and the like would not be prohibited.) What would the objections to this rider be? That the Confederate flag is itself a symbol sacred to those who revere it? That the men who served under this flag fought with honor and conviction and deserve our respect? That the national government should not interfere with the free speech of the individual states?

     First of all, surely more American flags were torn down, shot up, or burned by men serving under the Confederate flag than all the flags destroyed by contemporary flag offenders combined. More soldiers serving under the American flag were killed by those serving under the Confederate flag than in all other American wars combined, including World War Two. If we were to enshrine the symbol of our nation as inviolate, why should we tolerate the symbol of the government that presented the single most deadly threat to our nation's existence?

     Defenders of the Confederate flag flying atop the South Carolina state house sometimes make the argument that the flag represents only the honor of those who served gallantly when called, not the justice of their cause. They say that the flag was raised in 1962 to celebrate the centenary of the Civil War, for example. Setting aside for a moment the question of whether it is possible to serve honorably in an unjust cause, why should all citizens of a state, including the descendents of the slaves freed as a result of the war, be forced to accept an official symbol of reverence for the soldiers of the Confederacy? Should this not be a matter for private citizens to undertake? Those who make the silly and unhistorical argument that the Confederate flag is merely a symbol of (white!) southern culture are free to do so, but why should they impose this symbol on fellow citizens of the state who clearly do not share this identification?

     Furthermore, South Carolina and other former states of theConfederacy raised the battle flag in the 1950's and early 1960Õs in defiance of the federal government's attempts to end racial segregation. The Civil War began in 1861, not 1862. Again, one may insist that the flag pays respect only to the honor of soldiers who served, but given the history of the flag as a symbol of racist resistance to the best ideals of the nation, why should all citizens of a state be forced to accept it?

     And then there are those who argue that the flag is a symbol, not of racism, but of resistance to overweening federal authority. These neo-Confederates insist that the Civil War was fought not over slavery but over the infringement of state's rights by the federal government. (Just as more recent resistance to desegregation had noting to do with racism, I suppose.) Slavery, they say, was on the way out anyway; most of the men who served in the armies of Confederacy owned no slaves and fought only to protect their homes and their states from federalism gone berserk. And as for racism, they say, the North was as racist as the South. I have little patience for such arguments. To begin with, the question of the expansion of slavery beyond its then existing boundaries was the decisive political issue of the day. The only reason the states joining the Confederacy insisted upon state's rights was because they perceived the victory of Abraham Lincoln and the Republican Party in 1860 as a threat to the future of slavery. Just as those who hoisted the Confederate battle flag over their state houses 40 or so years ago saw federal interference as a threat to white supremacy. That most of the men who served the Confederacy owned no slaves is irrelevant to the injustice of their cause. That most Unionists were as racist as most Secessionists is irrelevant to the historical meaning of the Civil War.

      This last point deserves further elaboration. A nation's founding principles may embody truths that transcend the vision of even the nationÕs founders. The United States began with a dedication to the principle that all men are created equal, but the Founders failed to apply this principle to their times. Historical meaning is futural, not directed to the past. The historical meaning of the American founding was equality —for all men, and, indeed for all men and all women; its historical fact was racist and sexist subjugation. The result of this tension between the trajectories of meaning and fact was the Civil War, whose result was to bring fact into closer but still incomplete alignment with the founding principles. The Civil War also set into motion the historical forces that resulted in the enfranchisement of women. Historical events may have a meaning that transcends the intentions of most or even all of the historical actors. And the historical mission served in part by the conclusion of the Civil War remains incomplete. The contemporary dispute over the Confederate flag demonstrates this very fact.

     This is why I find the failure of both John McCain and George W. Bush to take a stand on the Confederate flag so disappointing. Both of them have fallen back on the mealy-mouthed position that this is a matter for the state to decide. But surely the symbolism at issue here transcends mere state politics.

     McCain has his chief strategist in South Carolina to account for: Richard Quinn, a man who serves as the editor in chief of the neo-Confederate Southern Partisan Quarterly Review, a journal that applauds the assassination of Abraham Lincoln (“Sic semper tyrannis!”); Quinn himself has supported electing David Duke.

     Nevertheless, Bush is more egregiously at fault on the issue at hand: the enduring vice of racism in the soul of the nation. As one of his first political acts as a candidate in South Carolina, he made a speech at Bob Jones University, professing his commitment to principled conservatism. I for one am at a loss to understand what he means. Bob Jones University maintains to this day a resolute policy against interracial dating. It professes this policy on its interpretation of fundamentalist Christian principles, arguing that God intended a separation of the races. Within the past few months, an interviewer asked George W. to identify the political philosopher who had had the greatest influence on him. He named Jesus Christ. I would like George W. to explain how Jesus Christ, his favorite political philosopher, would receive the notion that God intended a separation of the races. I am no theologian, but this idea strikes me as an utter abomination; perhaps Bush knows better. That George W. would choose to present himself at a place like Bob Jones University seems to me as profoundly misguided as candidate Ronald Reagan launching his 1979 presidential campaign with a paean to "state's rights" in Jefferson County, Alabama, the site of an infamous murder of three civil rights workers.

     To return to our thought experiment: we should not legally ban flag "desecration," cross-burning, or flying the Confederate battle flag.We should have faith in the ability of open, reasoned discourse to carry us through the underlying disagreements represented by these symbols and symbolic acts. Perhaps we can acknowledge that although their cause was wrong, individual men could serve in the Confederate armies with honor; without the possibility of such an acknowledgement, it is hard to imagine how the descendents of slaves and the descendents of slave-owners could ever be truly reconciled. But this in turn means that state governments should turn over the responsibility for honoring these men to private citizens and remove the battle flag from all official use. Otherwise, how can their African-American citizens have faith in a government for all the people? And I would challenge anyone in favor of banning desecration of the American flag to ask themselves how they could consistently oppose banning these others expressions of offensive speech. To take pride in our country is to insist on what it represents at its best: the courage of a free people to confront its own historical tasks without the viscerally reactive fear of the pain occasioned by a challenge to our most heartfelt opinions. This self-confronting courage is what distinguishes principled patriotism from idolatrous nationalism.

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