As the national conversation about historical memory and memorialization continues to evolve, I have been thinking about some different types of memorialization that are less discussed. A thread. #twitterstorians /1

First, some background: earlier this year, my institution @SIUE was added to a list of universities with “Truth, Healing, and Racial Transformation Centers,” that aim at helping to promote racial and social justice. /2 https://www.siue.edu/news/2020/01/AACU-Adds-SIUE-to-Truth-Racial-Healing-and-Transformation-Centers.shtml

We became the first institution in Illinois to join the national group of Universities Studying Slavery, and established the “Sankofa Lecture and Dialogue Series” which will explore the history and legacies of racial injustice in our community. /3

https://www.siue.edu/provost/trht/programs-initiatives/

One of the first installments this fall is a roundtable with colleagues in public and art history discussing different aspects of historical memory, monuments, and memorialization. We are especially interested in the direction the conversation around memorialization is headed. /4

For the most part, the national conversation has focused on Confederate monuments, and thankfully it seems we have finally reached a national consensus on taking them down. But what’s next? /5

Is there anything beyond a binary discussion of whether individual monuments are good or bad?
What other kinds of questions should we be asking about monuments? How should we approach memorialization and monuments where the answers are less clear cut? /6

One possibility is to start discussing some of the more complicated examples, and thinking about what they can tell us about structures of white supremacy. /7

My colleague @jeffmanuel has recently written about this in an excellent piece on a local monument to Edward Coles, an early governor of Illinois, who was notable for his contributions to the abolition movement and manumission of his slaves. /8

However, as Jeff points out, even if Coles is an example of a “good” monument (whatever that means), the actual history of the monument itself is inextricably intertwined with a local history of racism and segregation. /9 https://publicseminar.org/essays/the-case-of-the-hijacked-statue-of-the-great-abolitionist/

In other words, even as the national focus on Confederate monuments seems to have reached a consensus on taking them down, the larger memorialization discussion is more complicated than just “good” vs “bad” monuments. /10

Many supposed “good” monuments have their own problematic histories. There are numerous other examples of this at the national and local level. At an even more mico-level, I’ve been thinking about smaller acts of memorialization, such as street signs. /11

Again, the national conversation on this has skewed pretty heavily towards examples of former Confederates, and rightfully so. But what do we do with lesser known examples? /12

One of the busiest streets in Edwardsville, Illinois, where my institution is located, is Buchanan St. It cuts a path right through the center of the city, leading straight to the vibrant downtown district. /13

I frequently wonder if local residents and pedestrians ever pause to think about a street named after James Buchanan. It’s not news that Buchanan remains one of the most ignominious political figures of the 19th century, widely regarded as one of our worst presidents. /14

A rather nerdy piece of historical irony is the intersection of Buchanan and Union Street in a quiet residential neighborhood near Edwardsville’s downtown. Buchanan, of course, was as responsible as any public figure for events that led to the dissolution of the Union. /15

But there are other, lesser known examples. Within a few blocks of each other along Buchanan Street are intersections with Douglas and Cass Avenues, named after Stephen A. Douglas and Lewis Cass. /16

A street named after Douglas in Southern Illinois is not surprising. Arguably one of the most powerful political figures of the mid-nineteenth century, he built his career in downstate Illinois and is probably best known as Lincoln’s foil in the Lincoln-Douglas debates. /17

Cass is much lesser known, except to hardcore political historians. He served a long but somewhat unremarkable public career, was a failed candidate for president in 1848, and was arguably Andrew Jackson’s architect for the forced dispossession of Indigenous peoples. /18

(I also like to joke with my students that it looked like his face was melting.) /19

Cass, Douglas, and Buchanan, were all Northern politicians in the 19th century Democratic Party. They have often been labeled “doughfaces”—Northern politicians who sympathized with and even supported the political interests of the South. Douglas himself was an enslaver. /20

Their political ideologies were more complex than that, and defenders (contemporary and modern) argue their commitment to preserving the Union was praiseworthy. But the reality is that their record on race and slavery was problematic at best, and entirely damning at worst. /21

One block over, Cass and Douglas Avenues intersect with Fillmore St. Another example in the long line of mediocre nineteenth-century presidents, Millard Fillmore was perhaps the figure most responsible for the Compromise of 1850, including the infamous Fugitive Slave Act. /22

These street names are not unique to Edwardsville. In the Midwest you will find innumerable counties and towns and streets with similar names. Most of them were likely named in the nineteenth century, when these men were at the peak of their political power and reputation. /23

But it was also the moment when white Americans were cementing their control over western lands, systematically expelling Native Americans, and expanding the system of racially based chattel slavery. All of these men played central roles in that process. /24

They were Northerners and not enslavers (except Douglas). Where does that place them in relation to Confederate enslavers and secessionists? While this kind of memorialization doesn’t draw the same level of attention as large public statues, is it any less problematic? /25

Examples like these are one way we can continue to push the monument conversation. Who do we choose to memorialize, and why? Politicians like Buchanan et al. are certainly not the worst villains in our past. But they’re certainly not heroes worthy of memorialization, either. /26

And are those the criteria which we should use when we name and memorialize things? How often do people drive by street signs or small towns or county line markers and pause to think about who the names on the signs represent and why they are there? /27

Confederate statues are more obvious and insidious examples of memorialization as scaffolding for white supremacy. Taking them down is an important step in the right direction. But we should also be honest that just taking them down won’t change the problems they represent. /28

Names on street signs or counties are less obvious. However, that these rather middling political figures of the mid-nineteenth century were ever chosen at all for memorialization actually says something about the hidden structures of white supremacy. /29

Pausing to think about the reasons those names were ever chosen in the first place is actually pretty revealing about who we choose to memorialize, and how we have often chosen to publicly remember and celebrate our past. /30

Until we ask who we choose to memorialize and why, and question the accompanying historical narratives in our public discourse and systems of education, the larger structures of white supremacy those narratives represent won’t change, no matter what we take down. /31

On that note, I’ll end with one encouraging part of this story: as I dragged my boys around taking pictures of historical things (not the first time and likely not the last), they assumed Douglas Av was named after Frederick Douglass. Perhaps that’s a tiny piece of progress. /end