In Loving Memory
Posted on Thursday January 18, 2007 at 6:03pm.
On the campus of the University of Pennsylvania, outside the entrance of College Hall, surrounding the statue of Benjamin Franklin that tourists sometimes use as a backdrop for photographs, is a protest of sorts against the war in Iraq.
Attached to little wood stakes in the grass on both sides of the brick path, are laminated pieces of paper, each bearing the name of someone killed in Iraq, along with the date and the cause of death. The names are mostly if not exclusively of Iraqis, of various ages, though many or most are young adults, teens, and children. Some of the causes include tank fire, missile, shrapnel, suicide bomb, execution. I don't know how many of the dead were innocent bystanders and how many were targets, or how many were killed by American forces and how many were killed by militia groups or terrorists, since the displays do not provide a great deal of detail. At the top of each laminated paper is printed: "In Loving Memory."
I first saw the display, which covers a fairly large area and can't be missed as you walk to or by College Hall, a couple of weeks ago. Nothing about it strikes me as particularly noteworthy, except for the "In Loving Memory" headline. I don't think you can have a loving memory of someone you've never met and don't even know. You might regret the war, abhor it, be sad at the deaths, but I don't see how you can have memories--loving or otherwise--that you just don't have. Semantics, of course, but I like to think about words and what they mean, and when someone writes, "In loving memory of my husband of 48 years," it means something very different than that same phrase being used in a protest about people the protesters have never met. Language issues aside, the protest makes its point: A lot of people have been killed in Iraq, one way or another. It doesn't explicitly argue for anything beyond that (implications being obvious), and presumably that is intentional.
Today I noticed a small bit of counter-protest. Taped to a light pole, right next to College Hall and the dozens of "In Loving Memory" stakes, was a small poster depicting a mushroom cloud in full color, red and orange flames. There is very large text that says "In Loving Memory" and beneath, in smaller letters, something like: "of me, and you, and everyone else who will be killed because we didn't stop Iran when we had the chance."
What did you see on your way to work today?
Attached to little wood stakes in the grass on both sides of the brick path, are laminated pieces of paper, each bearing the name of someone killed in Iraq, along with the date and the cause of death. The names are mostly if not exclusively of Iraqis, of various ages, though many or most are young adults, teens, and children. Some of the causes include tank fire, missile, shrapnel, suicide bomb, execution. I don't know how many of the dead were innocent bystanders and how many were targets, or how many were killed by American forces and how many were killed by militia groups or terrorists, since the displays do not provide a great deal of detail. At the top of each laminated paper is printed: "In Loving Memory."
I first saw the display, which covers a fairly large area and can't be missed as you walk to or by College Hall, a couple of weeks ago. Nothing about it strikes me as particularly noteworthy, except for the "In Loving Memory" headline. I don't think you can have a loving memory of someone you've never met and don't even know. You might regret the war, abhor it, be sad at the deaths, but I don't see how you can have memories--loving or otherwise--that you just don't have. Semantics, of course, but I like to think about words and what they mean, and when someone writes, "In loving memory of my husband of 48 years," it means something very different than that same phrase being used in a protest about people the protesters have never met. Language issues aside, the protest makes its point: A lot of people have been killed in Iraq, one way or another. It doesn't explicitly argue for anything beyond that (implications being obvious), and presumably that is intentional.
Today I noticed a small bit of counter-protest. Taped to a light pole, right next to College Hall and the dozens of "In Loving Memory" stakes, was a small poster depicting a mushroom cloud in full color, red and orange flames. There is very large text that says "In Loving Memory" and beneath, in smaller letters, something like: "of me, and you, and everyone else who will be killed because we didn't stop Iran when we had the chance."
What did you see on your way to work today?