Destroying monuments and erasing names from public buildings is a favorite activity of revolutionaries, as we have seen in the past year and a half. When you think about it, this iconoclastic impulse is odd. The dead don’t care whether their statues are displayed on street corners or their names are attached to schools, military bases or municipal landfills. Most of the public is indifferent, too. Does one American in ten know that Fort Bragg in North Carolina (scheduled for renaming as soon as a commission can find a sufficiently pure replacement) is named after a Confederate general (one who, incidentally, contributed more to the North’s victory than Union generals like John Pope and Ambrose Burnside)? Even fewer, I’m sure, know anything about Supreme Court Justice Joseph P. Bradley, whose name was erased a few days ago from a building at Rutgers.
To our contemporary iconoclasts, however, it is very important to scrutinize the careers of men like Bragg and Bradley, indict them for their faults, ignore the possibility that they possessed virtues, and seek to condemn to oblivion what little imprint their footsteps have left on the sands of time.
Braxton Bragg was an easy target, since he fought in support of a real insurrection (as opposed to the farcical one that is now decried by President Biden as “worse than the Civil War”).
The iconoclasts must look further for Justice Bradley’s offenses. Two of his Supreme Court opinions are held against him: United States v. Stanley, 109 U.S. 3 (1883), which held that the Fourteenth Amendment restricts only state action (a position unquestioned even by the Warren Court in its headiest days), and his concurrence in Bradwell v. State, 83 U.S. 130 (1873), which contains much lofty rhetoric on the centrality of motherhood to civilized life. That’s an unpopular viewpoint in many contemporary quarters, but did anyone ever embrace it because a building in New Jersey bore the name of someone who wrote in its defense?
What do the iconoclasts gain from their successes?
First, they can bask in the feeling that they, who have found these motes in our ancestors’ eyes, are morally superior to both those ancestors and the deplorable folk who overlooked their wrongthink. Their spirit is what Our Lord warned against when he said, “Judge not, that you be not judged.”
Second, they move the nation closer to “Year Zero”, to the time when America will have no history except the version woven by the revolutionaries. Demonizing little remembered figures strengthens the progressive tale that the United States has been a consistent force for evil in the world. The evisceration of the Braggs and Bradleys likewise makes it easier to attack better known figures and to envelop all dissent from progressive dogma in a blanket of prejudice.
Third, each cancellation adds weight to the notion that, as Hamlet reflected, a “dram of eale [evil]” casts doubt on “all the noble substance”; in other words, that merits can never outweigh faults, leaving aside the exception always made for those who profess the revolutionary catechism with unstinted and uninquisitive enthusiasm.
Iconoclasm fits well with a totalitarian mindset, for smashing the past is the necessary preliminary to building a future on a foundation of fantastical, unproven ideas, while sweeping away the remnants is an essential precaution against counterrevolution. How can it be countered? The iconoclasts, embalmed in their own self-righteousness, are not open to persuasion, and arguing in defense of each target is a tiring game that gives the impression that the iconoclasts have at least some valid points on their side.
My suggestion is that we throw more targets at them, until they collapse from exhaustion. It isn’t just that the time they spend constructing cases against figures whom they never heard of before will distract them from worse pastimes. One of their vulnerabilities is that substituting new historical figures for the canceled ones contradicts the image of America as an eternal cesspit of villainy. Hence, for example, Bradley Hall at Rutgers will from now on be known only by its street address.
How about a campaign to name every significant building that currently lacks one and to erect a new generation of statues of great men and women? Thousands of significant but little recognized figures have contributed to our Nation’s greatness. There is no shortage of candidates.
The iconoclasts, rather than the iconodules, would then be on the defensive. As they contrive objections to anyone and everyone who is put forward, their pettiness, dishonesty and hatred of the America that exists will come more clearly to the fore and, we may be confident, will become less and less palatable to those who don’t share their mania.