By Henry Srebrnik, [Summerside, PEI] Journal Pioneer
I worked as a journalist in Washington DC
during the 1980s,
but until I spoke at a conference here toward the end of June, I
hadn’t been
back since 1993.
In his recently published book War Beyond
Words: Languages
of Remembrance from the Great War to the Present, Yale
University historian Jay
Winter makes the case that war memorials have gradually shifted
in design from
the vertical, which suggests heroism, something we look up at,
to the
horizontal, which results in the downward gaze of mourning.
One such structure, he indicates, is the
Vietnam Veterans
Memorial, which is said to be the most visited site on the Mall.
The memorial
is maintained by the U.S. National Park Service and receives
around three
million visitors each year.
I’d recommend two excellent scholarly
articles, “The Vietnam
Veterans Memorial and the Washington Mall: Philosophical
Thoughts on Political
Iconography,” by Charles Griswold, (1986), and “The Wall, the
Screen, and the
Image: The Vietnam Veterans Memorial” by
Marita Sturken, (1991), which I have used in courses and draw
upon here.
The
Vietnam
veterans who organized the construction of the memorial
stipulated only two
things for its design: that it contains the names of those who
died or are
missing in action and that it be apolitical and harmonious
with the site.
Dedicated in 1982, it was designed by Maya
Lin, after a
national competition, and she eschewed conventional tactics
towards memorial
design.
She
was a 21-year-old
undergraduate at Yale University, not only young and
un-credentialed but Chinese-American and female –
something not
everyone was pleased with. But as the years have gone by, the
memorial has
attained iconic status.
Situated
on the
grassy slope of the Constitutional Gardens, it consists of two
walls of black
granite set into the earth at an angle. Together, they form an
extended V
almost 500 feet in length, tapering in both directions from a
height of
approximately ten feet at the centre.
The
walls reflect
the towering Washington Monument and face the imposing Lincoln
Memorial.
The
reflective
surface allows viewers to participate in the memorial. They
see their own
images in the names of the dead. It is, for many, an extremely
emotional
experience, and many break down and weep.
There
are no
heroic images, no swords or flags. This is not a memorial that glorifies war.
Much
of the
memorial’s power is due to the effect of the almost 60,000
names inscribed on
its walls. They are listed not alphabetically but in
chronological order.
The
listing of
names begins on the
right-hand side and continues to the end of the right wall. It
then begins
again at the far end of the left wall and continues to the
centre again.
Thus,
the name of
the first American soldier killed in Vietnam in 1959 is on a
panel adjacent to that
containing the name of the last American killed there in 1975.
The
memorial has
taken on all of the trappings of a religious shrine. There
is a pathway
along the base of the wall, where visitors walk, read names,
make a pencil
rubbing of a particular one, or pray.
People
bring
personal artifacts, flowers and pictures to leave at the wall
as offerings.
They take photographs of themselves standing next to and
touching the name of a
friend or relative.
It is a sombre place, as one ponders the fate
of the mostly
very young men, whose names are inscribed here.
Mind you, not everyone likes it. Former
Second World War
pilot and Princeton University literature professor Samuel
Hynes, in his book
On War and Writing, contends that the wall “says nothing except
dead, dead,
dead – 58,000 times.”
My wife Pat, who grew up in Juneau, Alaska,
during that
period, knew two young men from her high school whose names are
on the wall.
One was a good friend.
It
is no surprise
that this is a very different form of commemoration. After
all, how does a
society remeber a war for which the central narrative is one
of division and
dissent, a war whose history is highly contested even now,
more than four
decades after it ended?
The
monument also
speaks to the pain and subsequent marginalization of the
Vietnam veterans, who
came disproportionately from the ranks of the poor and
minorities.
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