Scribbles & Munch

      This month is one of poignant anniversaries for the United States. Last week saw both the 50th anniversary of the Voting Rights Act, as well as the one year anniversary of the fatal shooting of Michael Brown.*  I can't imagine a better time to offer my two cents about Harper Lee's latest publication, "Go Set A Watchman."  I finished it about a week ago, and have been pondering it ever since.  I wanted to be sure I'd really given myself time to think before offering an opinion.
      This post is not intended to be a book review--I'll put that on Goodreads sometime over the weekend.  No, this post is intended to be an intellectual essay on the novel's social value.**  Also, this essay does assume you have read both "To Kill A Mockingbird" and "Go Set A Watchman," and is therefore redolent with spoilers.

      Since the first reviews, one of the most common lamentations regarding "Go Set A Watchman" has been the re-casting of Atticus Finch. Like Jean Louise herself, readers of "To Kill A Mockingbird" have been awestruck by the rare, brave acts of this White Southerner who was willing to stand up for the rights of a Black man. That is why, when Jean Louise discovers her father is now a member of the local White Supremacy movement, attempting to block federal imposition of civil rights, readers share in her outrage and grief.  But once past her initial shock (and a few glorious tirades later), Jean Louise is able to find a certain reconciliation with her father.  Also, this new Atticus Finch offers a very different, more subtle wisdom for his daughter. I believe that "Go Set A Watchman" is an invitation for readers to take lessons from both these heroes--lessons that are essential for the health of America, through the maturation of her citizens.  As 'Scout' grows into a woman who must confront the flaws of those she loves, so must Americans confront the flaws in our country, and the contradictions that continue to poison it's very core.
      As Jean Louise processes her utter disillusionment, she moves through three distinct phases, each demonstrating a specific kind of bravery.  First, there is her acceptance of what she has seen. Not only her father, but her sweetheart Hank are revealed as active racists through their support of the local White Citizen's Council.  At first her brain wishes to reject the evidence of her senses, and she is overwhelmed with childhood memories that seem to contradict this revelation.  But her integrity refuses to permit denial.  It is a rare reader indeed who cannot empathize with the pain of realizing our idols are not all that they seem, but even more rare is the individual who accepts this information at first blush.  We instinctually defend our central eidolons; the dearer to our hearts, the more entrenched our denial.
      Nowhere is this phenomenon more evident than in blind patriotism.  From our earliest classroom experiences, the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave is glorified.  The sweet tales of brave settlers, daring revolutionaries, and noble idealists fill our heads.  We are taught that the concept of "All Men Are Created Equal" is the foundation of our country.  Of course, we grow older and learn about the many facets of racism that exist upon this jewel of a nation: slavery, near genocide, segregation, and systemic violence.  But how many Americans can do what Jean Louise did?  How many can absorb these truths as completely, rather than add them as mere footnotes to our mental construct?***  It takes a rare bravery to do this.
      Once we confront the truth for ourselves, it takes another kind of bravery to use the truth to confront others.  In America this can take a variety of shapes, from public protests to letters to the editor, from late night stand-up to getting out to vote.  (Whether or not this last one is "easy" is currently a matter of some debate.)  For Jean Louise, however, she was able to address her more personal disillusionment in a very personal - and passionate - way.  First she let into her intended.  Alas for him, Hank's defense regarding the stifling social pressure in closed-minded Maycomb County serves only to impresses Jean Louise with his cowardice.  But there is more than cowardice in his reaction: unjustly tainted with a "trashy" heritage, Hank was in such a perfect position to empathize with his Black neighbors, who are also limited by what boils down to nothing more than a coincidence of ancestry.  Yet instead of feeling drawn to their cause, he instead feels compelled to advance himself at their expense.  Hank's rhetoric reminded me of one of my favorite scenes from "Mississippi Burning," where Gene Hackman delivers a simple, yet eloquent explanation of one cause of racism.  Both show that in "accepting how things are," we submit to fear, and arrest our growth as human beings.
      In many ways, the defense offered by Atticus Finch upon confrontation is the reverse of his apprentice.  Atticus is not struggling to make changes for himself, but rather determined to prevent what he sees as harmful change being forced upon his community.  The impassioned dialogue between the attorney and his daughter include points of law, social development, and personal conviction.  Ultimately, both individuals are revealed as prejudiced beings.  Where Atticus sees an inferior race, however, Jean Louise is able to see the consequences of systemic oppression.  She understands this can and must change with time.  But much of her anger is personal, stemming from a sense of betrayal from the man she loved best, and here she receives no satisfaction: Atticus will not apologize, and will not admit to any wrong.  His calm and unwavering insistence that he loves his daughter makes Jean Louise feel defeated.
      The twist comes at the conclusion of the novel, when Jean Louise debriefs with her Uncle Jack. He reveals that he and Atticus have long known that she will someday come to differ with her father; if she were to live with only the values and convictions "borrowed" from him, then she would never truly be an adult.  This is Atticus's true heroism.  The deviation of values is the heart of every generational conflict, and the wedge in every bi-partisan debate.  But what Atticus knows as a man of politics is that law comes out of conflict, and justice is born of debate.  He is able to hold his convictions without denouncing the beliefs of others.  He is able to respect the need for his daughter to set her own watchman, and love her regardless of what she sees--even if it his own failings.  This is the true grace and wisdom of our forefathers, who were able to forge a nation based on compromise and the inevitability of change.  This is what the ugly face of modern politics must strive to become, if it is to truly serve the people.
      And it is this realization that provides for Jean Louise's final act of bravery: to absorb this value, and accept Atticus in kind.  She does not forget, and will not ignore, but she can adapt with love.  In so doing, she leaves herself open to her Uncle Jack's final suggestion that she move back to Maycomb County, and bring her outspoken liberalism with her.  Coming from an attitude of love and acceptance rather than scorn and belittlement, she has a much greater chance of being heard.  This is a truth that our nations greatest champions - from President Abraham Lincoln to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. - understood very clearly, and we have all benefited from his acting upon that truth.
      If we as Americans are to further the causes of justice and peace, then we must learn to emulate the heroism of these characters.  We must be willing to see the flaws in our systems and admit the ugly truths of our country.  Armed with these truths, we must then take action, and not let those responsible off the hook.  Finally, we must find the grace to accept our differences.  When we say that the United States of America was founded upon the principle that all people are created equal, it does not mean that we have equal obligation to conform to somebody's idea of what is "right;" it means that our differences do not make us any lesser than one another.  Our constitution is not meant to force us into a narrow definition of citizenship, but to make a safe, respectful, bountiful home for the diverse.  If everyone's Watchman is her/his conscience, then let Harper Lee's latest book remind us not just to set, but to heed our Watchman as a country.

Full illustration credit: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/jul/10/harper-lee-new-novel-first-chapter-extract-to-kill-a-mockingbird

*This month is also the 70th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  My heart and my thoughts are with all of the victims - living and dead - of this tragic, world-changing event.  I hope for a day when the human race as a whole can no longer imagine inflicting such horrors upon other living creatures.

**Artistically, it has an entirely different value: this was a raw manuscript when it was published.  That means there was no editing to catch small errors such as inconsistent tense, or trim paragraphs, or smooth transitions between present day and past memories.  As a writer, I find it fascinating to read this novel and wonder what the editor saw in it that she continued to work with Harper Lee in creating a novel that would become famous around the world.  If the editor had read only the first ten pages (as many agents and editors do), I think she would have trashed it.

***Ironically, since many of these historical facts appear as little more than footnotes in the history lessons taught in our public schools.