multiplicity of memorials

There is going to be a religious symbol at the Ohio Statehouse. At the same time, I am surprised that there is so little debate, and I am not surprised that this flies below the radar of so many Ohioans. Ever since hearing the words “memorial” or “monument” on the news broadcast, I have felt the need to read more about it and write this in order to get input from friends. (Instead of anonymous, spelling-impaired internet commenters.)

It’s especially on my mind this week, with the anniversary of 9/11. The designer of Ohio’s Holocaust Memorial is none other than Daniel Libeskind, master planner of the World Trade Center site and victim of many of the aforementioned internet comments. For now, I'm shying away from tearing into the articles and editorials, those covering reactions of atheists and the grumblings of Richard Finan. For one, I'm still unclear whether the "mock-up" actually originated from a Libeskind suggestion or what. And does it matter?

From the information Libeskind's studio provides online, the steel verticals “have a cut-out form of a bisected hexagram (six-pointed) star,” with no mention of the shape’s religious significance. Is this a conscious avoidance of religion considering the public site? Considering the universality that many monument designers work toward?

I wish I could grant Libeskind that benefit of the doubt, but my research into commemoration with abstraction shows that what is abstract is not necessarily “tolerantly vague.” In addition to my quoting of Karal Ann Marling’s work on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, I’d like to point out that vague is not what we need here. Unless I’m mistaken, the connection between Ohio’s people and the Holocaust deserves a bit more explanation.

And we do get some insight from the Ohio Jewish Communities in these words: “Inspired by the Ohio soldiers who were part of the American liberation and survivors who made Ohio their home.” But allow me to pose the question: does it have to be at the Statehouse? Why not in areas with a more explicit Jewish heritage, in Columbus or even Cincinnati or Cleveland?

Let’s think about the case for Columbus, and the Statehouse in particular.

As I was perusing the Statehouse website, this made me laugh: “the magnificent Greek Rival Capitol Building.” Surely they meant “Revival,” but I digress. The strongest statement I found that might be useful here is: “The monuments and statues on Capitol Square depict the values, ideals and desires of the Ohioans who commissioned and designed them.” Surely, all Ohioans share the values and ideals that prevent genocide. Surely, by remembering millions as well as individuals, we take part in a global effort never to forget and never to repeat.

The Libeskind monument does not conflict with what is already there, in terms of a “history of the common person.” In that way, it is a recognition of Ohio’s Jewish community, especially those who found homes in this state after the war.

From what I have seen and what I remember about the Statehouse, art and design at Capitol Square has held on to the Neoclassical style that played such a large part in the early history of Ohio and the United States. The closest to conceptual or contemporary seems to be the curving walls of the Veterans Plaza.

The larger problem might not be the angular, abstract forms of the Libeskind design, but the zeroing in on a Jewish story. If the monument is to “teach people about man’s inhumanity to man,” there are, as many internet commenters and trolls have pointed out, a myriad of stories about that same inhumanity. Some are more recent, such as events in Darfur, and some were driven by forces other than differences of religion, such as the genocide in Rwanda.

The one thing that we have to hold on to, if this monument is to be included at Capitol Square, is the connection to Ohio. Anecdotally, the concept as it stands is more strongly connected to Ohio and Ohioans than, say, a memorial to the victims of Rwanda. However, are the visual elements reinforcing that anecdotal connection, then broadening the issue out beyond a particularly Jewish story into an Ohioan story? Or do the visual elements, with their lack of classicism, drive those who are least likely to relate to a Jewish story even further from understanding the lesson the OJC wishes to convey?

It’s my historical understanding that those taken to concentration camps include more than Jews: the Roma, the disabled, homosexuals, and others deemed “undesirable” in Aryan society. How much stronger would the monument be, and how much more aligned with American ideals, if the words and the images told stories of the Holocaust that remind us how hatred has many inspirations, religious and ethnic and beyond?

The monument would be truly universal, touching on our common history and relating quite directly to political and social issues facing Ohio today. It’s those issues, after all, that the Statehouse was built for in the first place. 

*Since I began ranting and writing this summer, Iowa has beat us to the punch. Hey, being first isn't everything.