Let those who heavy feel
The cupreous hand of fear
Under slavery’s yoke live;
Mettle and virtue is what
Freedom wants.
“Fourth Ode, To Samos” by Andreas Kalvos
(translated by Neni Panourgiá)
I read Lonnie Bunch’s “A fool’s errand” as if it was a fascinating novel. With the same urgency, with the same pleasure and emotion. I had the honour of meeting Lonnie Bunch in Lisbon, a bit more than two years ago. Apart from his intelligence, another thing that made a lasting impression on me was his humbleness. I found the combination of both these qualities also in the book. And I admired his generosity in sharing with all of us the endeavour of creating a museum, starting with a team of two and without a collection: the dreams and ambitions, the values and principles, the misjudgements, the failures, the planned and unplanned successes. And also the underlying vision of “making America better”. As Lonnie Bunch put it, this was not only about “what kind of museum I wanted, but also what kind of America I believed in” (p. 183). All this together gives us one of the most significant manuals on museum/cultural leadership.
There were,
of course, “official” expectations from the National Museum of African American
History and Culture (NMAAHC). Lonnie Bunch defended a “place of meaning and
memory”, that would “illuminate stories and narratives that humanize history
and make visible those traditionally omitted from America’s historical memory”
(p. 26), and that would also “use history and culture as a way to illuminate
and contextualize important contemporary concerns” (p.51). He also didn’t dream
of a museum for black Americans, but a museum where “All Americans regardless
of race must come to understand how they are profoundly shaped and made better
by that history” (p.28). When the groundbreaking ceremony took place on 22
February 2012, President Barack Obama expressed the wish that his daughters
could “appreciate this museum not just as a record of tragedy, but as a
celebration of life” (p.145); and on inauguration day, on 24 September 2016,
President George Bush reminded everyone that “slavery was America’s original
sin and a great nation embraces its past rather than hides from its moments of
pain or evil.” (p.2).
These are
inspiring statements, but Lonnie Bunch also understood that for the
presentations (or the book, I say) to be successful “they had to give voice to
the anonymous, make visible those often unseen, but also provide new insights
into familiar names and events” (p.160). Different stories are being shared as
we read the book:
The story of the cleaning lady who met Lonnie
Bunch in the museum elevator and told him that “walking through the museum
reminds her of the strength of ‘her people’ and gives her hope for the future”
(p.x);
The story of an African American taxi
driver carrying two white supremacists who launched into a racist tirade as
they approached the museum. “The driver immediately stopped and ordered the two
men out of her car with a warning not to ‘tarnish’ a museum that matters”
(p.xi).
The story of the shoeshine at an airport
who didn’t want to take money from Lonnie and told him to keep the eight
dollars for the museum. “I am not sure what is in a museum, but it may be the
only place where my grandchildren will learn what life did to me and what I did
with my own life.” (p.45)
The story of an elder African American man
who, in an interview to his grandson for the Griot Program, said that the
saddest day in his life was when he was refused entrance to a movie theatre in
Washington DC because of the colour of his skin. “Historians have written
volumes about segregation”, comments Lonnie Bunch, “ but few words have
captured the personal impact and the contemporary resonance of racism like his
interview.” (p.55)
The story of the man who kept his freedom
papers in a handmade tin wallet, in order to protect them (“to protect his
freedom”) and the tin wallet ending up in the museum collection (p.97)
The story of the person who had not cried when Trayvon Martin or Eric Garner or Philando Castile were killed, but couldn’t hold his tears in front of Emmett Till’s casket. “at the foot of that coffin in that hallowed space, I found the strength to cry. It is a power that I will never give away again.” (p.246)
According to
President Donald Trump, this museum, and the Smithsonian in general, have “come
under the influence of a divisive, race-centered ideology”. In his executive
order entitled “Restoring truth and sanity to American
history”, issued on
27 March, the US President states that “Americans have witnessed a concerted
and widespread effort to rewrite our Nation’s history, replacing objective
facts with a distorted narrative driven by ideology rather than truth.” He
instructs the Vice President to ensure that future appropriations to the
Smithsonian Institution “prohibit expenditure on exhibits or programs that
degrade shared American values, divide Americans based on race, or promote
programs or ideologies inconsistent with Federal law and policy.”
This attempt
to control the narrative, as well as the work carried out by museums and
monuments, started earlier. The executive order issued on 20 January and
entitled “Ending Radical And Wasteful Government DEI
Programs And Preferencing”, called diversity, inclusion and equity programmes “illegal and
immoral” and ordered their termination. I was surprised at the time to see big
museums immediately complying. The National Gallery in Washington DC
closed its office of belonging and inclusion, the Smithsonian closed its diversity office, the Art Museum of the Americas cancelled two
exhibitions featuring
Black and LGBTQ+ artists. I wondered why no questions were asked, whether they
really had to immediately obey and, also, whether they were looking for other
words, beyond those “prohibited”, in order to carry on with their work. Perhaps
one of the most shocking moves was that of the Stonewall Monument erasing references to
trans people from its website. This is a monument commemorating a 1969 riot outside New York City’s
Stonewall Inn, led by trans women of color, that ignited the contemporary gay
rights movement. As protesters put it, can you spell Stonewall (or History, for
that matter) without T?
 |
| Protesters at Stonewall Monument. Image taken from France 24 ©Kena Betancur / AFP |
Attempts by
politicians to control the narrative are nothing new – and Lonnie Bunch has
been through this before. In his book, he tells us that, shortly after the
opening of NMAAHC in 2016, some members of Congress threatened to formally
censure him because of what they saw as a political decision to omit conservative
Associate Justice Clarence Thomas from the museum’s exhibition. At the time he
questioned: “If Congress can override scholarship and curatorial integrity and
determine who or what should be in a museum, it is only a small step to
regulating content and deciding what should be removed from the walls and
galleries.” (p.155)
The
orchestrated attack on museums and libraries took a very concrete shape with
the executive order on “Continuing the reduction of the federal
bureaucracy”, issued on
14 March and instructing the dismantlement of the Institute of Museum and
Library Services, the only agency to support many small, local institutions. In an article in Newsweek, John Chrastka (Executive Director of
EveryLibrary), Marilyn Jackson (President and CEO of the American Alliance of
Museums) and Celina Stewart (Chief Executive Officer of the League of Women
Voters of the United States) denounce the “attempt to control the narrative and
shape public thinking (…) the attempt to control our history, and with it, the
future of American democracy.” This is exactly what it is and it has long been
in the making, in the US and elsewhere.
The attack
on humanities and critical thinking, the development of a culture of
individualism, the erosion of the sense of community, the lack of solidarity,
the nurturing of fear and anger against “the other” have brought many
societies, in different countries, to this point. Once again, fascist tactics
seem very appealing, rich “powerful” people are seen as the solution against
the failures of the system. Tyranny and authoritarianism are not seen as a big
problem; fear, silence and obedience create the ground for them to flourish.
Timothy Snyder published “On Tyranny:
Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century” in 2016 and actor John Lithgow
beautifully put it into words. Some of these lessons resonated with me and where an answer to my
concerns regarding everything that is happening around us at this moment, for
example: do not obey in advance; defend “our” institutions; do not look away
and do not get used to symbols of hate; remember professional ethics; stand
out; believe in truth; practice corporeal politics; learn from peers in other
countries; be a patriot and as courageous as you can.
Unlike other museums, the Japanese American
National Museum recently announced that it will continue to embrace diversity,
equity, and inclusion. “Our community is based on diversity, equity is guaranteed to us in
the Constitution, and inclusion is what we believe in”, the museum said in a
statement. An anonymous donor has since contributed enough to replace onsite
costs for one of their programmes. The museum also received an influx of
individual donations over the course of two days, after it was known that it
lost its National Endowment for the Humanities Funding.
Lonnie Bunch addressed Smithsonian staff after the US President announced his
intentions to “restore truth and sanity to American history”. He assured them
of the institution’s unwavering commitment to scholarship and research and the
mission to bring history, science, education, research, and the arts to all
Americans, with the public in mind, by telling the multi-faceted stories of
this country’s extraordinary heritage.
These are
the right words, this is what we should all expect from our cultural
institutions. Nevertheless, it will not be enough if the people, all of us - as
individuals, as colleagues and through our civil society organisations - do not
stand up, do not look for ways of showing our solidarity, if we sacrifice the
truth in exchange for emotional and intellectual comfort and a relative safety.
As Timothy Snyder wrote, we need to defend our institutions, as they “do not
protect themselves. They fall one after the other unless each is defended from
the beginning.”
More references
to Lonnie Bunch on this blog:
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