I wrote the review below for a class on History and Memory. The essay I reviewed, The Trivilization of Tragedy, spoke to a deep-seated frustration of mine--the desire of Americans to scourge themselves for the misdeeds of those who lived decades or even centuries before. The concept of "white man's guilt" rings false for me, as I refuse to be held responsible for the terrible things done by people who lived long before I was born. This does not mean that I do not believe that the things things happened--far from it. Understanding the past allows us to learn from the mistakes of our ancestors. Learning from those mistakes, better equips us to take the steps necessary to ensure that they do not happen again. That is just one of the many gifts we can realize through the study of history.
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Today, many Americans feel a deep-seated shame of their nation’s past. The subjugation of African slaves and the virtual extermination of North America’s indigenous peoples serve as reminders that American leaders did not always live up to the high standards enshrined in the Declaration of Independence and United States Constitution. These same Americans strive to atone for past sins through remembrance and memorialization. But what happens when that need for atonement can only be satisfied through a trivialization of the tragedy behind it? In “The Trivialization of Tragedy,” an essay contained in Dumbing Down: Essays on the Strip Mining of American Culture, Jonathan Rosen explores the American need for a “contemporary rite of atonement” that has dangerous consequences for the manner in which contemporary audiences understand historical events. (Rosen 274)
Rosen begins his exploration with America’s need to identify with, and appropriate, the suffering of peoples of the past, using the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., as his initial point of reference. Providing an overview of the Museum’s content, Rosen notes that the very goal of its founders was to take the tragedy of twentieth-century European Jews and shape it to fit America’s “mythic needs.” (Rosen 271) Visitors place themselves into the shoes of men, women, and children suffering unspeakable horrors and, from that, relate that suffering to contemporary American political and social problems. The unique experience of the Jews is thus trivialized, losing the context of its own time and place.
Rosen goes on to cite another appropriation of Holocaust suffering, this time by Malcolm X in the 1960s when the civil rights activist used the tale of German Jews as “the basis of his argument against integration.” (Rosen 275) In an ironic twist, Rosen notes that film director Spike Lee, through his movie Malcom X, allowed hundreds of Americans to subsequently appropriate the life of Malcolm X to suit their needs, nothing the scene at the end of the film in which children declared, “I am Malcolm X.” (Rosen 276) The space between the life of Malcolm X and those of the children has been “collapsed,” and the children understand Malcolm X on contemporary terms and not in the context of the time and place in which he lived and died. (Rosen 275)
Rosen also takes Americans to task for their need for redemption, to feel that through an homage to the suffering of others they are redeemed and are thus free to remain optimistic about the future. Tourists visit sites such as the Holocaust Museum “to feel that calamitous events are somehow informing their own lives, enriching them, making them better.” (Rosen 278) Marita Sturken, in Tourists of History, claims that the American need for redemption and healing “is related to the dominance of U.S. consumer practices, in which consumerism is understood to be a kind of therapy.” (Sturken 14) Sturken finds in the consumerism that accompanies the memorials to 9/11 and the Oklahoma City bombing a way for Americans to deflect their own guilt for those events. Rosen makes no such politically motivated argument. In fact, he offers what he calls a “sinister suggestion,” wondering if some tragic events simply have nothing to teach us. What if there is no redemption to be found, no way of twisting the suffering of others to make us better people, to allow us our optimism? (Rosen 279)
Like a good cook, Rosen leaves us wanting more. After having identified the troubling way in which Americans appropriate for themselves the suffering of others, he proffers no solution. How do we, as a nation, understand and reflect on our history without trivializing it? How do we reach a society that is, as David McCullough puts it, “historically illiterate?” Museums and memorials, by their very nature, boil history down to a palatable dish for public consumption. How then do we put history, with all its wonderful complexities and incongruities, into a simple format that will reach American minds? How do we memorialize and heal from our losses without seeking redemption by appropriating to ourselves the sufferings of others?
From the need to identify with the suffering peoples of the past, “[s]omething has changed in our understanding of what history is” and we strive to “conjure the past and have it perform for us.” (Rosen 275) Through such performances, whether in a museum setting or through film, Americans seek and often find redemption, even when no redemption is available. Historians, museum curators, and archivists will continue to grapple with issues such as how best to understand and then teach history and how to interpret complex historical issues and present findings to an American public accustomed to sound bites and infomercials. While Rosen asked the questions, it will be for the rest of us to provide the answers.
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