I’m Gonna Set Your Flag on Fire

Governor McAuliffe of Virginia has declared a state of emergency in after the protest and counter-protest in Charlottesville turned increasingly violent today. The Governor indicated it was largely out of state white nationalists who had come with hatred and bigotry to his small town. The controversy began, ostensibly, over the statue of Confederate General Robert E Lee. A high school student began a petition to have it removed, which gathered enough support that the City Council eventually voted 3:2 to sell and remove the statue. However, a lawsuit led to a temporary injunction against its removal and the white nationalists converged in well planned meetings and protests to “protect” the statue.

The Neo-Nazis, as they’ve been called, appeared in helmets, with signs and shields. Friday night, they held a gathering with former KKK head David Duke at UVA, and immediately counter protestors showed up to surround the “alt-right”, who chanted “you will not replace us.”

Now that’s a curious phrase, one that suggests these protestors self-identify with Robert E Lee, and the removal of his effigy, signifies the removal of their identities.

The statue of Lee was not contemporaneous- it was erected in 1924 and added to the historic register in 1997. Much like the controversy over the Confederate flag at the SC Capitol last year, that flag was added in the 1950s in direct response to the Civil Rights Movement. Nevertheless, in both cases, the old south felt their history and identity, and in some cases- their independence and power- were being taken away. This is how symbolism and identity work, and indeed the counter protestors, the teenager who started the petition and others, also find their identities challenges by the symbol of a man they believe represented oppression and racism.

I’m gonna set your flag on fire.

It wasn’t that long ago we watched the people of Iraq tear down the statue of Saddam Hussein. A statue is designed specifically to represent a person and a people. In the case of Saddam, it was more closely tied to his personage and administration than to the people, and so, when it fell, there was much rejoicing that Saddam’s reign had come to an end and new period was beginning.

When we erect statues long after the fact, we significantly blur these identity associations with the passage of time and the disconnect from the intentions of people who lived it. When we add a historic designation to the symbol, as with the Lee statue in Charlottesville, there is further strength in the argument of erasing history. Just as minorities do not want their histories “white washed” in the textbooks of the victor or oppressor, nor do those who identify with the many attributes of the confederacy want their history, their representation eroded. These are the normal conditions of any heterogeneous society. Where civility and society begin to break down is when we can no longer tolerate the plurality of identities, and that is exactly what has happened to the United States.

In watching the coverage of Charlottesville this morning, into my head popped the lyric “your grandma, my grandma, sitting by the fire. My grandma says to your grandma, I’m gonna set your flag on fire.” We have, for many years, and in most- but certainly not all- ways sat amicably or at least tolerantly around the same fire as the identity of American was burned into the fabric of our souls. The song has been sung many times- and lawsuits were involved over the rights. But the phrase itself is New Orleans Creole- something you’d hear between the parades and Indian traders. In fact, the original phrase is thought to be a blend of Chocotaw and Chickasaw Indian languages that blended in a type of trade jargon. One translation follows:

Chokma finha an dan déyè

Chokma finha ane.

Chickasaw words “chokma” (“it’s good”) and “finha” (“very”), Creole “an dan déyè” from French Creole “an dans déyè” (“at the back”), and the Creole “ane” from the French “année” (“year”).

Translation:

It’s very good at the rear

It’s a very good year.

The flags themselves were part of a voodoo amalgamation of culture and religious influences that invoked a spirit to destroy the enemy, those who flew a different flag.

And that’s perhaps more symbolic of what’s happening today than anything else. From a common language, born of white, brown, black and red, into division. From a common flag with 13 stripes to recognize the original colonies, and 50 stars — one for each state, we’ve decided to set it all ablaze. Because what? Because we cannot tolerate a plurality?

And so those words mean something different to me today. It makes me yearn for the end of the fighting, and the beginning of a new year. But I don’t think it’s coming any time soon. The protestors gathered. The counter-protestors surrounded them. Others came to encircle them. The police, the guard, circled those. We’ve created our own seven rings of hell, and then someone plowed a car into dozens of people. Three have died already. I don’t understand how anyone can care more for a symbol of the past than the lives currently standing right next to him.

We all want the same things. We want to be heard, represented. We want a place to belong, a place to remember our ancestors and to raise our children. But when we seek supremacy for our own and refuse the same rights to others, the flags go up in flame. And it isn’t only America that is burned.