A Journal of the Canadian Association for School Libraries

 

Blood Ritual in the Library

Elaine Harger

Elaine Harger is a librarian at Mount Si High School in Snoqualmie, Washington. She is also a co-founder of the Progressive Librarians Guild, co-chair of the International Responsibilities Task Force of the Social Responsibilities Round Table in the American Library Association, and an elected councilor-at-large of ALA.

Issue Contents

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But your flag decal won’t get you into heaven anymore; they’re already overcrowded from your dirty little war. Know Jesus don’t like killing, no matter what the reason for, And your flag decal won’t get you into heaven anymore. - John Prime, singer & songwriter

At about 9:00 in the morning on September 11, 2001, I sat alone in the K-8 public school library at PS/IS 176, the W. Haywood Burns School, in upper Manhattan, thumbing through a picture book edition of the story of Noah’s ark – a tale of an angry god feeling justified in killing all but a few members of the human race, many, if not most, perfectly innocent of any sin or crime worthy, if any ever is or was, of capital punishment. An old story of mass murder committed by a god, condoned by his chosen human intermediaries. The sacrifice and slaughter of innocents becomes acceptable to many when done in the name of God. "At this disturbing thought, I set the book down when the phone rang."

The previous spring, middle school teachers and I had collaborated on an interdisciplinary proposal for a collection development grant. Our proposal had as its focusing theme the notion of catastrophes – natural and social. The earth science and social studies classes would explore a variety of phenomena – earthquakes, volcanoes, hurricanes, wars, genocide, torture – which humans experience as low scale, local disruptions, or as national or global catastrophes to daily routine, individual life and limb, social relations and infrastructures. Units of study would explore mythology, literature, history, current events, and the earth and applied sciences.
The teachers and I arrived at catastrophe as a unifying curricular theme for several reasons. First, because middle school life is filled with the sturm und drang of adolescent catastrophe, life abounds with disruption. Middle school students, by and large, have a natural affinity to catastrophe – physiologically, voices break, blood descends, hormones explode; psychologically, the young adult rebels against the elder with a fury; socially, relations are established and severed with an abandon the equal of which can only be found in plate tectonics and volcanic eruptions. Secondly, natural and social disasters are often in the news, students find the reports fascinating, and they can tie in conveniently to school curriculum. Thirdly, our library was home to a mural, painted by New York City artist Ora Lerman, which depicted the aftermath of the biblical flood. Vibrantly colored toy animals recreate the world with brushes and paints, scissors and pens after the divine destruction. A statement carved into a clay tablet by the artist draws parallels between the library and the ark – the former a repository of culture, designed to weather social and natural stress for the benefit of future generations. [1]
Many of our students had, literally, grown up beneath the mural, mounted in the ceiling, which we occasionally made reference to with students studying the mythologies of different cultures. Our art teachers also used the mural with their classes. The mural was familiar, and so the idea of exploring catastrophe and the human work of recovery would not be alien to our middle schoolers. We won the grant and purchased with half of the funds books on mythology, history, earth science, social studies, and novels depicting the “social catastrophes” of slavery, genocide, and apartheid. Students would, for example, delve into the connections between ancient creation myths and geological and astronomical phenomena.

Over the summer, however, most of the teachers I’d worked with on the curriculum found other jobs (turnover was high at our young, struggling middle school). Now, here I was with lots of new books to support lessons designed by teachers who’d moved on to greener pastures. So, during 1st period on the second morning of the first full week of the new school year, I sat alone in the library, looking for angles to entice a veteran language arts teacher into using our new collection of “catastrophe literature.”

In the days and weeks following that fateful morning, we did make some use of the books and the mural with a few classes to discuss the work of rebuilding, of regrouping in the aftermath of the great human tragedy that was September 11, 2001. Unfortunately, for us at PS/IS 176, as for people throughout the country, the human solidarity sought by many rapidly became overshadowed by divisions created by leaders who cast the traumatic events of that day in simplistic frameworks – “the terrorists hate our American way of life,” “you’re either with us or you’re with them” – and appealed to all to prove solidarity with the victims of the attacks by engaging in public acts of patriotism. On September 13th, Congress passed a resolution encouraging every U.S. citizen to fly the flag in a show of solidarity with the victims of the attack. [2] School districts required the daily recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance in public schools.

Flag rituals, encouraged by Congress, required by school districts, demanded by administrators, became the litmus test of each individual’s patriotism and a symbolic wedge, separating those who supported “us” from those who, supposedly, supported “them.”

These symbols, the flag and pledge, and their presence in the library form the subject of this essay, in which I argue that the presence of either violates the fundamental philosophical tenet of librarianship, namely that the library embodies the ideal of free and open exchange of ideas in a democratic society. As has been said and written on countless occasions, a democracy requires in citizens the critical capacity of being informed – fully and accurately. I will also argue that there can be no progressive, peaceful cooptation of the U.S. flag. Even as I write these words, I grapple with how to deal with the flag and its rituals in the high school library in which I now work, and I write to share my reflections on this issue in the hope that my experience, questions, research and thoughts will be of help to others who struggle with these very powerful symbols in the context of their own libraries and lives.

Flags at School

New York City blossomed with American flags after the destruction of the World Trade Center. Large and small, the stars-and-stripes adorned jacket lapels and skyscrapers. It became difficult to locate a post office. Every street looked dressed for a Fourth of July parade. Baseball stadiums brought in eagles to soar aloft to the strains of the national anthem. Every bus and subway car was adorned with a backward (i.e. flying) flag decal.
Such was happening across the country. Expressions of patriotism were expected in every venue – from the hotdog vendor on the street corner to the halls of Congress to the airwaves – and those who questioned, or refused to engage in displays of patriotism were often branded as uncaring, at best, but more often as unpatriotic or as in league with terrorists. The NYC Board of Education resolution requiring the pledge ritual was passed at its meeting on October 17, 2001. It read:

In early November, the staff of PS/IS 176 met and discussed was the Board’s mandate concerning the pledge. The spectrum of thought and feelings expressed was very broad. Some thought the pledge was an appropriate show of respect and unity. Some thought each class should hold a discussion and decide as a group whether or not, or to what extent, it would participate in the ritual. Others thought the mandate should be ignored, while others thought it should be actively protested. Whichever stand was taken, each teacher spoke from the heart, and at one point the exchange became so heated, with one teacher shouting “If you don’t love it [the U.S.A.], then leave!” that the principal moved to end the discussion. Fortunately, calm was restored, we continued to talk, and ended by requesting that the principal find out from other schools how they were dealing with the mandate. Later that week the principal sent out a memo to the staff:

 

Dear Staff – On Tuesday we had a difficult but a most necessary discussion about the pledge of allegiance. This open discussion was only possible because you were willing to share your thoughts, feelings and suggestions. I thank you for that. Many valid concerns were shared; the feeling of being judged for ones position regarding the pledge of allegiance, the issue of how to deal with the mandate without compromising personal choices, and that there may be other ways to express the intent behind pledging to the flag. There were those who spoke to the reasons why this was important. Some spoke about how people may find comfort in the flag or view the flag as a symbol of good things. Still others, because of the loss of friends and loved ones may view the flag as an unspoken sense of security and a rebirth of patriotic vigor.

Reflecting on all this, I decided not to go outside our community with regards to alternatives to the pledge. Instead, I have opted to move forward with faith, trusting that each individual in our community can each hold onto their stands without compromising the quality of our coexistence. As a result of this resolution, let us focus on the concepts of justice and liberty in our teachings. Let us strive, ever more so, to prepare our students for their future, by equipping them with the tools they will need to continue the pursuit of peace and equity. Let us model for them the essence of freedom as we make our choices; yet stand side by side with our differences. Let us, for the sake of the children, continue to direct our energies to our vocation, to wit, to teach.

So I ask that you discuss with your students the intent of the pledge, teach them the words and review the symbol of the flag. In preparation for this exercise, which will begin on Tuesday morning, please review with your students how the pledge will be done every morning at 8:45 and Board of Education American flags will be placed in every room by Tuesday morning, these must remain on display.

Miriam Pedraja, memo dated November 7, 2001 [4]

The principal declined to inquire from other schools what they were doing in response to the Board’s mandate, which troubled many of our teachers, and we all knew that, in spite of the seeming openness of the memo, the last paragraph contained our “marching orders.” The flag had not been a fixture on our building or in our classrooms. Our school was originally founded by politically progressive educators and parents, and served a large immigrant community. Many parents were citizens of countries other than the U.S., and all parents had their own, and widely differing, views on expressions of patriotism. Teachers were concerned about how students and parents would respond to the mandated recitation, and it seemed certain that the order to engage in the Pledge of Allegiance would sow as much division as unity within our school community.

Flags in the Library

While teachers at one small school in New York City discussed the flag ritual, libraries across the country were raising flags by the score. Central libraries hung enormous flags over entranceways, tiny flags popped up on reference desks, and in the weeks to come several members of the library community began to notice, and hear stories, of how these silent symbols were creating a climate of discomfort and intimidation within libraries.
The question, which arose in the minds of many in the U.S. in the wake of the September attacks, was, “Why?” Some traveled to libraries for answers to that simple, and yet so complex question.

Tragically, our leaders were not seeking to help answer that most important of questions. In their view, there was no time to waste in trying to understand, the important thing was to act, to retaliate. Any questioning was treasonous – “You’re either with us, or you’re with the terrorists.” – and the atmosphere generated seemed to hover about the newly erected flags, even though many were raised as a simple memorial of those who had died, as a sign of human solidarity and sorrow over innocent lives destroyed by a horrible act of violence. Of course, the flag was also displayed to show support for the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan and for the new Bush administration policies of “preemptive” war, “homeland security,” the USA PATRIOT Act, and the detention of “terrorist suspects” without charge or access to legal counsel. In some cases the flag represented expressions of racist, xenophobic sentiments.

The flag discussion amongst librarians began on the internet with Library Juice and the listservs of the Progressive Librarians Guild and the Social Responsibilities Round Table of the American Library Association, then moved into more mainstream forums like American Libraries and the ALA Council listserv. The following excerpt from a posting to PLGnet is representative of the core concern raised by the sudden and widespread display of flags in the library.

 

The administration of the library where I work (Multnomah County Public Library, in Portland, Oregon) has just announced to the branch supervisors that there will soon be American flags displayed in each neighborhood library. The flags will be inside the branches, in a spot designated by the branch supervisor…

In addition, in the last month or so I have been dismayed to see a few of my colleagues wearing American flag pins or “patriotic” t-shirts while in public areas of the library…

Oregon law requires that public employees refrain from supporting or opposing political candidates, initiative petitions, or voter referendums. Multnomah County Library encourages staff to interpret this rather broadly, and we are asked to refrain from saying or wearing pretty much anything, while at work, that might make a patron think we’ve got a particular view on an issue that is sort of vaguely politically related. The example used in the required intellectual freedom training I attended was that a t-shirt with the slogan “Free Tibet” could well make folks using the library less comfortable asking certain kinds of reference questions, or checking out certain materials.

To my mind, staff wearing patriotic gear, or flags suddenly appearing in the branches is far worse than a staff member wearing a “Free Tibet” t-shirt – flags are being used as symbols of absolute and blind support of the United States’ war in Afghanistan, and by some, as a display of racism and hate against people of Middle-Eastern descent and Muslims. In this context, I worry about the comfort level and safety of our patrons – patrons who don’t support the war, but especially patrons who are or might appear to be Muslim or of Middle Eastern descent…

Are any of your libraries or library administrators suddenly getting patriotic? If you have ideas about how to fight this, please let me know. I am really going to hate coming to work if there is suddenly a big American flag behind the circulation desk. [5]

Another librarian on the same listserv took offense that anyone would feel negatively toward the sight of the flag:

 

I love what my country symbolizes, and that it’s embodied in the flag. I think that the Bush administration is doing us all a disfavor and the U.S. foreign policy has not lived up to the symbol of the flag, but to be distraught at the sight of such a beautiful symbol to me is a sign that some folks have forgotten just what it means…I have a flag on my desk [from long before Sept. 11]…INSIDE my car…I cry during fireworks at the 4th of July, but my patriotism does not mean I blindly support what our government is doing. I support and believe in the ideals upon which our country was founded, and I would like to see them upheld. [6]

Encapsulated in these two postings are sentiments, which to this very day echo among people in the U.S. It seems there are three basic categories of emotion people feel for the flag: those who love it and support the government with little or no question; those who love it in spite of serious questions they have toward government; and those who have no love for the flag, who see it simply as the symbolic expression of nationalistic chauvinism.

Teardrops, goosebumps and the flag

Where do our strong emotions toward the flag come? On July 4, 1989, the Washington Post reported on some recently published psychological studies on patriotism.

 

Patriots are made, not born. The process begins in childhood, when the seeds of national devotion are sown with simple acts such as pledging allegiance to the flag and singing “God Bless America ” long before they ever understand the words… Patriotism can first be detected in children as young as 7 or 8. Preliminary studies of patriotism in schoolchildren conducted by UCLA’s Feshback found that “kids experience a great deal of patriotic feeling.” For children, patriotism is pure devotion. There is no hint of nationalism until adolescence, when teen-agers suddenly begin to be drawn to feelings of national supremacy. [7]

The article goes on to say “Why patriotism may be linked to early [parent-child] relationships are not completely understood.”

My own experience, however, shows that this matter is actually quite easily understood.

My father was in the military until near the end of my 7th grade in school. I grew up reciting the Pledge of Allegiance daily with my classmates, from kindergarten on – eight years of this ritual, on the majority of days in any given year. Additionally, in movie theaters on military bases, the very first film shown would be of the flag, billowing in the wind, blue sky in the background, accompanied by a stirring rendition of the national anthem. All movie goers would stand at attention for the duration, then settle down with our popcorn for Armed Forces newsreels, previews and – finally – the featured film (often, for us kids, a Saturday matinee double feature).

Dad left the service in the spring of 1969 while I was attending junior high school in Wiesbaden, Germany. I finished the 7th grade in Mountain Home, Arkansas, where the family stayed with New Grandpa while Dad, who’d resigned his commission in protest of the Vietnam War, went in search of a job. In my new school in Mountain Home, I was scandalized that a prayer preceded the Pledge of Allegiance. My concern, at that time, had nothing to do with the appropriateness of a prayer being said in school, but at what to me was the audaciousness of giving pride of place to anything before the pledge. My youthful sense of protocol was greatly offended.

Later in college, I found it necessary to do some soul searching, some serious reflection on my experience of patriotic rituals. By that time in life, I’d learned enough about U.S. history to have long abandoned participating in patriotic rituals, and yet I was disturbed and confused by the powerful emotions that would sometimes course through my veins upon hearing the national anthem, or seeing a symbol of U.S. patriotism – the flag, the Statue of Liberty, a soaring eagle, and, yes, 4th of July fireworks. I could sit through “God Bless America” at rodeos and commencements without feeling a thing, ignoring raised eyebrows and hisses and accidentally spilled beers, but sometimes tears would well up in my eyes, or I’d get that goosebump thrill or a palpitating heart when suddenly faced with some national symbol. Why? Why were my emotions at odds with what my mind knew? What was going on in my body that defied my brain? Where in my subconscious were those hair-triggered emotions? How did they get there? And, what allowed them to stay there with such strength

I eventually arrived at the only explanation that makes any sense to me. As children, saluting the flag and singing the anthems are one of the only activities shared consistently with whole groups of other children. Furthermore, we are told by teachers and parents to feel proud, to stand up straight, to recite or sing with feeling – and so we do. We feel proud together – together – a group, a community of Americans proud of our country. As children we might not know what the words we recite actually mean, we might not know what exactly we are to be proud of, but the words spoken together, in unison, the images seen establish a powerful, emotional bond to words, to musical notes, to those stars-and-stripes. As children, we in the United States are indoctrinated to feel powerful emotions when patriotic cues are present. We are trained to thrill at the sight of the flag, in the same fashion as Pavlov trained his dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell.

For myself, the only similar emotional ties I have are to a few songs that became important to me at different times in my life. From my pre-school childhood, the songs “Jesus Loves the Little Children” and “This Little Light of Mine” can still generate emotions as strong as those roused by “Solidarity Forever” and “Lift Every Voice and Sing” and “We Shall Overcome” – the later songs learned as an adult in settings with groups of people with whom I identified, people I admired and sought to emulate, join, to be a proud, loyal member of the group.

The emotional bonds of patriotic fervor are rooted either in the natural, trusting, unquestioning ignorance of children, or develop at moments of personal crisis or openness in the life of an adult who desires to establish psychological, spiritual or political ties with a group – whether it be a baseball team, a religious cult or congregation, or a political party.

The same Washington Post article reports on some opinion polls inquiring about feelings of patriotism in several countries. One set of findings in particular strikes me as revealing:

 

Similar results emerged from another cross-national survey by Gallup pollsters in 1982…81 percent of respondents in the United States – the highest percentage of any nation – said that they were “very proud” to be Americans. Next came Ireland, where 66 percent of respondents said that they were “very proud” to be Irish. Third ranked was England, where 55 percent polled reported feeling “very proud” to be British. At the bottom of the list were Japan and West Germany. Just 30 percent of Japanese reported being very proud of their nationality, and only 21 percent of West Germans said they were very proud to be Germans.[8]

Although the article attempts no analysis of this survey, the low number of “very proud” Japanese (and probably the Germans as well) could have much to do with the fact that, after World War II, the Japanese were forbidden by the U.S. occupying forces from indoctrinating their school children with nationalistic symbols, songs, and images. The U.S. military command knew very well that the fervid patriotism instilled in young children establishes an emotional foundation for the training of soldiers willing to die for country. World War II certainly provided a display of the strength of the patriotism of Japanese soldiers.

When the war ended, it was the common intent of all the Allied Powers to render Japan incapable of ever returning to the field of battle. “Demilitarization” was thus the first policy of the Occupation authorities and was accompanied by abolishing Japan ’s armed forces, dismantling its military industry, and eliminating the expression of patriotism from its schools and public life. [9]

To this day I struggle, although with less frequency, with emotions triggered by patriotic cues, and in discussions with school and library colleagues in late 2001 I argued strongly against flags in the library and pledges in the school. As it turned out, no flag was ever mounted in the library at PS/IS 176. I don’t know why, perhaps the custodians weren’t given enough for all classrooms. I was relieved, of course, whatever the reason, and happy that the library was, as I phrased it, a “flag free zone.” The pledge ritual at 176 didn’t last long either. Not only was there some resistance, but also it was an inconvenient routine. During the time that we did the pledge, however, on one occasion a class was in the library when the recitation came over the intercom. I was struck by the fact that the student who stood tallest, recited most clearly, precisely, and enthusiastically – even without a flag on which to focus – was the sole Middle Eastern student in the class. A few of his classmates half-heartedly engaged in the recitation, while the rest stayed seated on the floor in preparation for our story. Both the teacher and I remained seated.

The discussion on the Internet between librarians resulted in the passage of the following statement by the Social Responsibilities Round Table at its Action Council’s midwinter meeting in January 2002:

 

Statement of Concern on the Use of Flags in Libraries' Public Areas

SRRT recognizes that the US flag ordinarily is appropriately, proudly and respectfully displayed according to custom and law in libraries and public institutions. The display of the colors is a formal matter, which is meant to represent the sovereignty and unity of the nation.

However the aggressive display of flags in unusual places, in unusual numbers, and in an unusual manner might be taken to imply, among other things, institutional endorsement of current US governmental policies.

Privileging symbolic speech in possible support of current US governmental policies tends to undermine the library as a place of free thought and compromises the neutrality of the library space. Such unusual displays may create an intimidating atmosphere for some library users who may be deterred in their requests for materials and assistance. SRRT urges libraries to be sensitive to these concerns. [10]

Flags in the school library

Three years after September 11, 2001, I found myself on the other side of the country, the new librarian at a high school, when all of a sudden (to me), at the beginning of 2nd period on the first day of school, the cheerful voice of a female student came over the public address system – “Good morning, Mount Si. Please stand for the pledge of allegiance.”

I can’t recall if there were students in the library at that moment, but the two other adults promptly stood, faced the flag, hands over hearts and began the recitation. I, meanwhile, filled with a surprised shock, which almost immediately turned to silent, internal rage – knowing full well what was expected of me and resenting it powerfully – slowly rose from my chair, but refusing to turn my body to face the flag. Instead I bowed my head slightly, subjecting my body and spirit to this authority. I did not remain seated, as I normally would, out of fear – fear of offending my new colleagues, fear of giving anyone cause to question my moral capacity, my worthiness as a new, untenured employee of the school, as an educator of young women and men, fear of jeopardizing my job. I felt shame and fury.

In the following weeks, I responded to the 2nd period instruction in the same fashion, minus the charged emotions of the first day, but with an ever-growing sense of resentment and an equally blossoming knowledge that this couldn’t continue. Something had to give – and it wasn’t going to be me.

What came to my rescue, in a moment of reflection while writing in my new work journal, was action research – I would explore this problem systematically, smartly, trying to set aside emotions, I would collect some data, analyze it and try to arrive at some meaningful way to deal with the situation. By early January I had finally articulated the question behind my quandary:

How can I address positively the “imbalance of respect” inherent in my school’s daily flag ritual?

I was able to arrive at this question and method of action because:

Robert Jensen, in a speech on November 10, 2001, which was posted the next day on the Internet by Common Dreams, calls patriotism “perhaps the single most morally and intellectually bankrupt concept in human history.” He goes on to express best why I have come to find patriotic rituals offensive when he quotes Emma Goldman:

 

Patriotism assumes that our globe is divided into little spots, each one surrounded by an iron gate. Those who had the fortune of being born on some particular spot, consider themselves better, nobler, grander, and more intelligent than the living beings inhabiting any other spot. It is, therefore, the duty of everyone living on that chosen spot to fight, kill, and die in the attempt to impose his superiority upon all others. [11]

If patriotic rituals are exclusive, they especially do not belong in a library, which strives to be inclusive. However, as I learned, Washington state law mandates the pledge in public schools, and I was in no position (at the time) to take on the state legislature. I could, however, “temper” the ritual symbolically, and decided that hanging an Earth flag, preferably above, but eventually (in a compromise) at an even height with the U.S. flag, would let all who came into the library know that this was a space which acknowledges the views and beliefs of everyone.

With my Earth flag “solution” finally arrived at, I decided to broach the issue with someone else. Until then, I’d been silent, not knowing how to approach this volatile subject with people I didn’t know. Fortunately, just about the time I was feeling very much in need of someone to talk to, one of my new colleagues offered that if there was anything I ever wanted to know about the “politics” of the school, I should just ask – and I did.

I learned that, as regards the pledge, every classroom teacher dealt with it in his or her own fashion. Some require their 2nd period students to participate or quietly stand, others allow students follow their conscience, meaning they can sit it out, stand quietly or fully participate.

Later, my conversation with the school principal led me to the realization that central to the problem is what I call the “imbalance of respect.” The principal told me that those who did not wish to participate in the pledge must stand quietly during it to show their respect to those who did participate. The notion of this show of “respect” grated on my mind, until I finally realized why – the respect is always one-sided. Those who don’t want to pledge must show their respect for those who do, but never does the reverse happen. There is never an occasion when the people who choose to engage in the pledge of allegiance stand up to show their respect for those of us who don’t. Not on a daily basis, not on a weekly or monthly basis, but never.

And, more importantly, the suggestion that standing is simply a way of showing respect is a falsehood. It is a falsehood, a euphemism for what is really a demand that one subject oneself to the authority of the flag, and to the authority of the person requiring that one stand, whether it be a teacher, principal, or president. In a democratic, secular nation, this is the equivalent of requiring an atheist to bow before god, for a rebel to bow before the king, of an early Christian to bow before the graven image of a Roman deity. The realization of this brute, albeit symbolic, subjugation was confirmed when I discovered the book Blood Sacrifice and the Nation: Totem Rituals and the American Flag, by Carolyn Marvin and David W. Ingle (Cambridge University Press, 1999). In the introduction to their book, they write:

 

How does the flag operate in American life? Religiously, in a word…In American civil religion, the flag is the ritual instrument of group cohesion. It transforms the bodies of insiders and outsiders who meet at a border of violence. This is the kernel of the totem myth, endlessly re-enacted in patriotic life and ritual, and always most powerfully in the presence of the flag. Though the structure of totem myth is as familiar to Americans as anything can be, it remains largely unacknowledged. Though it governs our political culture, we do not recognize it. When it threatens to surface, it is vigorously denied. What it conceals is that blood sacrifice preserves the nation. Nor is the sacrifice that counts that of our enemy. The totem secret, the collective group taboo, is the knowledge that society depends on the death of its own members at the hands of the group. [Emphasis in the original]

…The claim that Americans are devotees of a powerful civil religion is deeply suspect. Americans generally see their nation as a secular culture possessed of few myths, or with weak myths everywhere, but none central and organizing. We [Marvin and Ingle] see American nationalism as a ritual system organized around a core myth of violently sacrificed divinity manifest in the highest patriotic ceremony and the most accessible popular culture. Though it uses a Christian vocabulary, its themes are common to many belief systems. Our failure to acknowledge the religiosity of this system obeys the ancient command never to speak the true name of God. It is said that so-called primitive societies fail to recognize distinctions between their religion and their culture. This is the first of many resemblances between cultures and us we consider to be different from us by virtue of a special condition of savagery or villainy or both. A feature of our modernity is projecting on other cultures impulses we believe we do not possess and deeds for which we claim no capacity. By remaining displaced observers of our most important acts, we define ourselves as a nation. [12]

Totem in the Gym

Imagine a school gymnasium, shining basketball court, bleachers out and filled with 1,300 high school students and another 100+ staff members. On the best of occasions, assembly emcees call for quiet, scold the chatterers, denounce disrespectful behaviors, and frequently give vent to exasperation at the assembled crowd’s inattentiveness. On this occasion, however, a dropped pin would have shattered the silence after the Veteran’s Day color guard marched, shoe taps clicking, across the gleaming wood floor up to the podium. Absolute silence reigned, not a cough, certainly not a giggle.

Leading the guard, the stars-and-stripes, next came the flags of the State of Washington and the United States Army, one guard shouldering a rifle, and bringing up the rear another guard bearing a staff from which hung long, heavy ribbons, a colorful array, each embossed or embroidered with the name of a battle in which the guard’s regiment had participated. The ribbons hung thick, and had the staff been ornamented, not with pretty ribbons, but with the skulls of lives lost in all those battles, the gymnasium would have looked like the World War I memorial at Verdun, the walls of its cellar rooms lined with the bones of the unknown dead. Death was in the gym; one could feel it in the utter silence of all assembled.

A speech was made by one of the guards, a flag was ceremoniously folded, and a recitation made of a text which, we were told, described the “meaning” of each fold.

• The first fold of our flag is the symbol of life.
• The second fold is a symbol of our belief in the eternal life.
• The third fold is made in honor and remembrance of the veteran departing our ranks who gave a portion of life for the defense of our country to attain peace throughout the world.
• The fourth fold represents our weaker nature, for peace as American citizens trusting in god, it is to him we turn in times of peace as well as in times of war for his divine guidance.
• The fifth fold is a tribute to our country, for in the words of Steven Decatur… “Our country, in dealing with the other countries, may she always be right, but it is still our country right or wrong.”
• The sixth fold is for where our hearts lie. It is with our hearts that we pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under god, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
• The seventh fold is a tribute to our armed forces, for it is through the armed forces that we protect our country and our flag against all her enemies, whether they are found within or without the boundaries of our republic.
• The eighth fold is a tribute to the one who entered into the valley of the shadow of death, that we might see the light of day.
• The ninth fold is a tribute to womanhood, for it has been through their faith, love, loyalty and devotion that the character of the men and women who have made this country great has been molded.
• The tenth fold is a tribute to the father, for he too, has given of his sons and daughters for the defense of our country since she was first born.
• The eleventh fold, in the eyes of the Hebrew citizen, represents the lower portion of the seal of King David and King Solomon and glorifies, in their eyes, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
• The twelfth fold, in the eyes of the Christian citizen represents an emblem of eternity and glorifies, in their eyes, god the father, the son, and the holy spirit.
• The thirteenth and final fold signifies the original 13 colonies upon which this great nation was founded. [13]

We were led to believe by the presenter that this text was a traditional part of the flag folding ceremony. As one who has been present at many such events, I was surprised that I was hearing this “traditional” reading for the first time. I even became suspicious as to its authenticity.

I searched the Internet for a few hours seeking information regarding the origin of the text. I spent a full day at the University of Washington library pouring through histories of the U.S. flag. Nothing, nada. In desperation, I sought the assistance of fellow librarians, first from Radical Reference, then from the reference librarian at the U.S. Air Force Academy. The later confirmed what I suspected – this text had appeared on the Internet (the Air Force placed it on its website at the request of veterans) with no attribution, no history, but wide distribution – an instant “historical” text. A new “tradition” of indeterminate age, certainly less than ten years, probably less than five.

I present the full text here, along with the description of the Veteran’s Day assembly, as anecdotal evidence of the insights of Marvin and Ingle into the religious role of the flag in U.S. life.

Old Glory – ever to glow with goodness?

Debates continue over whether or not the flag, as a symbol of love for country, can or should be claimed to represent what is good, truly good, about the United States of America. And, there is much that is good about this country.

I have come to the conclusion, however, that there can be no progressive use of the flag that can make it mean anything other than the blood sacrifice it actually and historically permits and justifies. Were you to hand a flag to a pacifist and another to a warmonger, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, laying deep in the hearts and minds of either individual that can endow that inanimate, red-white-and-blue object with any meaning other than the actual history embodied in those stars and stripes.

 

…The flag does NOT mean “whatever you want it to mean,”it unavoidable DOES express support for our present government policies, and DOES express a membership in that famous 90% of Americans who are happy with president Bush, support the war, and implicitly support John Ashcroft and the administration’s stated position that to express dissent is to side with the enemy. In other words, on the inside of a library, a flag is a political statement, and a very strong one at that. [14]

While the thirteen stripes, themselves, do represent a historic moment of rebellion against a colonial power and the lofty ideals articulated in the Declaration of Independence, they also represent the dispossession of native peoples of their lands, lives and cultures, and of the kidnapping and enslavement of countless Africans by those same rebellious colonists. Like the notches on the butt of a rifle, or the scalps in the belt of a bounty hunter, each of the fifty white stars on field of blue represents the violent dispossession of land from a people who made that land their home long before the arrival of Europeans.

In response to one librarian’s listserv comment describing his love of flag in spite of his knowledge of America’s bloody past and his present opposition to U.S. foreign policy in the fall of 2001, Mark Rosenzweig wrote,

 

…Fred’s attitude towards the flag is a matter of conscience: he didn’t suddenly bedeck himself in red-white-and-blue in this outbreak of flag mania 2 months ago. I would assume that for him the flag represents the nation as it is, for better and worse, and is a sign of his appreciation of the luck of the draw that he was born here, of his realization that the bounty he enjoys is also the systematic material product of the want, need, disease, death squads, elsewhere (and of poverty, discrimination, social injustice within) and his commitment to doing whatever he can to getting rid of the flip side of American “prosperity” and the freedom it affords, which is the beggaring of other peoples, the use of disproportionate mass violence to solve conflicts, the degradation of a large part of the planet and the despoliation of the natural environment of the biosphere, to all of which we as a nation make more than our share of a contribution. [15]

Some people “parse” the flag in ways that try to make it mean something more than what it means in its official form.

I don’t fly a flag or wear the flag because to the person on the street it appears to mean I support Bush and his cronies. But I do wear a peace sign over the flag button on my backpack instead (I also have a “peace is patriotic” button…) [16]

Coupling the U.S. flag with other symbols does, in my view, alter it in ways that visually and symbolically acknowledge that the wearer or bearer wants to communicate some modification to the usual meaning of the flag. I believe such images are a worthy transition, a “weaning” if you will, away from our attachment to the flag.

Without such parsing, however, the only true, historically faithful interpretation of the meaning of the U.S. flag can be found through the eyes of those who suffered and died beneath its folds. One need only consider the general attitude held in the U.S. today toward the flag of the Civil War-era Confederacy to understand this. While the stars-and-bars elicits nostalgic feelings among some people for the grandeur of the Old South, and to others has been “appropriated” as a symbol of rebellion against any number of entities, for most people in the U.S. today the Confederate flag is the symbol of a society rooted in slavery, a society not to be held in memory with any fondness or longing or pride. The presence in recent years of this symbol of pro-slavery sentiment over statehouses and public spaces has been powerfully challenged on the grounds that, as a vestige of social structures, which no longer have approval in the civilized world, it should not be given place of pride in any public sphere.

One day, the same will be true of the stars-and-stripes. As a society, we might one day come to see this flag as it has been seen for centuries through the eyes of those forcefully removed from their homes, family members slain, women raped, children burned by forces bearing that flag. We will some day see it through the eyes of young American men and women who have been lured into the war machine to have their souls brutalized, their bodies maimed, their young, promising lives snuffed out – all this for what? For another white star on a field of blue? For access to oilfields? For agribusiness theft of land that is the home of human beings, who just like us only want to live their lives in peace? Can we ever see in the flag the needless sacrifice of our own children to the maws of wars of greed and power?

Could the U.S. flag ever embody any level of goodness, could it ever be washed clean of all the blood in which it is so thoroughly drenched?

It depends.

It depends on whether or not the people and leaders of the United States are willing, first, to ask forgiveness from all those whom we have wronged and, secondly, to begin the task of acting in accordance with the ideals we claim to hold dear. Ideals, such as democracy, justice, equality – which are not exclusively “American” ideals, but human ideals, shared by peoples of many lands, throughout human history. Plato, after all, wasn’t a U.S. citizen. Neither was Jesus, or Spartacus, or Robin Hood, or any other people who have struggled against oppression.

We in the United States of America would have to admit in our hearts and minds that our comforts are largely rooted in the misery of others. The bright yellow, delicious bananas we feed our babies, for instance, are picked by mothers and fathers who have no choice but to raise their children in poverty, because of unjust economic relations between producing and consuming nations. Women make the pretty, shiny patent leather shoes worn by our toddlers whose own children have no shoes.

We would have to learn enough about of our own country’s history in order to know from whom we must ask forgiveness.

We would have to humble ourselves – we big, arrogant Americans – before the hungry two-thirds of the world’s population and actually have the courage to ask “Can you forgive me for contributing to your suffering? What can I do to atone for my country’s crimes against humanity?”

We would have to listen to their answers. And then we would have to act, to transform words into deeds. We would have to harness our wonderful, American – no, human – creativity, technology, knowledge and “can do” spirit to meet the task of proving ourselves worthy of forgiveness. Only then might the broad stripes and bright stars be filled with the broad spirit that is a real characteristic of Americans, with the bright promise of the ideals we claim to hold dear. By then, of course, we’d probably want a flag that represented all humanity, not just one nation. At that point, the stars-and-stripes would be placed in a museum, alongside the stars-and-bars and countless other banners of cultures no longer considered civilized, societies in which people clobbered each other over the heads, disemboweled their heretics, dropped napalm on the heads of children, and poisoned their own soldiers and scientists with Agent Orange, dirty bombs and minds willed with the horrors of war.

What are the chances of such a transformation? Well, today we are led by the son of a man who “In 1988, after the U.S. Navy warship Vincennes shot down an Iranian commercial airliner in a commercial corridor, killing 290 civilians…said, ‘I will never apologize for the United States of America. I don’t care what the facts are.’”[17] (Jensen, p.4)

We in the United States must begin to care what the facts are, and we librarians are in a position to help that happen. After all, we are the keepers of the facts and so it is our responsibility to actively nurture communities as places where the facts are desired and sought out and acted on. When we see that our communities are being lied to, we need to promote the facts, the truth.

My first two years in college were spent at Jackson State University, a historically black college. Jesus’ motto was from the Bible, a quote attributed to a peacemaker – “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” Perhaps we could start with the truth of the American flag.

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[1] See website with Ora Lerman’s work at http://www.lermantrust.org/tour.html

[2] See House resolution at http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/C?r107:./ temp/~r107KGFHTw

[3] See resolution at http://www.google.com/u/nycdoe?sitesearch=www.nycenet.edu&q=pledge%20of%20allegiance

[4] Memo dated November 7, 2001 from Miriam Pedraja, principal PS/IS 176.

[5] Emily-Jane Dawson, PLGnet-L, 28 October 2001

[6] Diana Loreman, PLGnet-L, 29 October 2001

[7] Sally Squires. “Old Glory, New Passion; the psychology of America ’s devotion to itself” Washington Post, July 4, 1989 , pg.z.12 from ProQuest, Mount Si High School Library, http://proquest.umi.com/ May 21, 2005 .

[8] ditto

[9] Asia for Educators, Columbia University . “The American Occupation of Japan, 1945-1952” http://afe.easia.columbia.edu/japan/japanworkbook/modernhist/occupation.html. 23 May 2005.

[10] SRRT flag statement http://www.pitt.edu/~ttwiss/irtf/resolutions.flags.html

[11] Robert Jensen. “Saying Goodbye to Patriotism: a talk delivered to the Peace Action National Congress, November 10, 2001 .” CommonDreams News Center . http://www.commondreams.org/views01/1112-07.htm.

[12] Carolyn Marvin & David W. Ingle. Blood Sacrifice and the Nation: totem rituals and the American flag. Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 1999. pages 2-3.

[13] Space & Missile Times, vol.11, no.25, June 29, 2001 . http://www.vandenberg.af.mil/~swStaff/public_affairs/ smTimes/stories/~archive/?HLSTAFF=y&HLPAO=y&HLNEWSARC=y May 25, 2005

[14] Rory Litwin, PLGnet-L, December 15, 2001 .

[15] Mark Rosenzweig, PLGnet-L, November 29, 2001 .

[16] Debbie Richards, PLGnet-L, October 30, 2001 .

[17] 'Pres. George H.W. Bush quoted by Jensen in his speech "Saying Goodbye to Patriotism, page 4."'

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