The list of names stretched to the stadium ceiling, each one big and bold enough to see. At the bottom stood a band unadorned, mere men with guitars, their only prop a mob of screaming fans and the somber roll call behind them. U2 may have looked tiny, but their sound--and their impact--was enormous. The band's career has been built on grandiose gestures, many of them less than successful. But that somber, scrolling list of Sept. 11 victims--both colossal and simplistic--made as grand a statement as I think a rock band is capable of. The 2002 Super Bowl halftime show was one of those rare moments where mainstream entertainment got it right.
As expected, last week's Super Bowl was full of maudlin Americana. The Budweiser Clydesdales bowed down to the New York skyline; Rudy Giuliani gave tribute to New York while plugging Monster.com. Our former presidents (and one first lady) read the Gettysburg Address. The Founding Fathers were, in effect, in the form of actors in costume; so was Abe Lincoln, whose would-be doppelganger could only remind us of the man's inimitable appearance. Bono's jacket was lined with the stars and stripes.
Indeed, since Sept. 11, patriotism has never been more popular. Our flag returned with all its symbolic force, a bold symbol of mourning and defiance. As it should, the flag represented unity, justice, freedom--the ideals our country should aspire to.
The day after Budweiser, Bono and the NFL finished their flag-flying extravaganza, our flag showed up again--this time on the cover of President George W. Bush's budget.
Whatever its faults or merits, Bush's budget is not a symbol or product of unity. Like all political documents, it is intensely partisan and intentionally directed at creating political winners and losers. Even if the president is successful at convincing Congress that returning to a Reagan-style regime of defense-fueled deficit spending, tax cuts and domestic penny-pinching is the way to go, it won't be because his budget had anything to do with unity, freedom or justice for all. It is a classic Republican budget, with business-oriented priorities, and because of that, it will appeal to some Americans and not to others. Before the final federal budget is decided, Bush's document will have caused greater dissension than agreement.
Sept. 11 is our most salient national commonplace, a historical moment unparalleled in intensity since at least the Kennedy assassination. It cannot and should not be ignored or forgotten, and our newfound zeal for the flag and all symbols American suggests a desire to keep the memory strong. To corporate America, any image that powerful--even a horrifying one--is bound to have a morbid sort of allure. But when politicians and large corporations invoke Sept. 11 for political or profit-minded reasons, they act only to destroy the unity it created.
Although the collective rally around our flag shows dedication and strength of common purpose, the use of such symbols should be reserved to those purposes and beliefs actually held in common. To advocate a massive defense buildup without discussing the new dangers presented by the Sept. 11 attacks would be ridiculous, just as it would have been ridiculous to conduct our nation's most widely publicized sporting event with nary a mention of the tragedy that predated it. But just as the "Buy American" campaign in the early-90s perpetuated xenophobia and highly suspect economics, today's treatment of Sept. 11 is starting to look a lot more opportunistic than honorary.
Buying into Reaganomics or using a mediocre website because Rudolph Giuliani endorses it is ultimately "buying American" in the worst sense. Allowing ourselves to be manipulated and motivated by misappropriated symbolism not only creates the same type of prejudiced, illogical behavior we're supposedly at war against, but more importantly, disparages the very symbols we are trying to reverse.
Every person on that list of names deserves honor, respect and dignity in death. They don't deserve to be used to sell toothpaste or partisan politics.
Jonas Blank, Trinity '02, is the former editor of Recess.
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