debut: 2/16/17
40,136 runs
Columbus Comes Down: Does Symbolism Really Change Trinidad and Tobago?
Recently, the Columbus statue was removed from its prominent perch in Trinidad and Tobago—an act that, for some, felt long overdue. For others, it raised questions that still linger in the air. I can appreciate that the statue will be preserved in a museum, where future generations might see, firsthand, the likeness of Columbus and reflect on the complicated legacy he left behind. But it makes me question whether this symbolic act is truly addressing the more profound divisions in our society.
Let's face it: unemployment, poverty, and crime remain significant issues. Does the removal of a statue, no matter how controversial it may be, actually have an effect on matters that people face on a daily basis? There are moments when it seems like we're allowing our emotions to guide choices that are ultimately more symbolic than important. Is the notion that removing a monument will make the suffering of the past go away unrealistic?
Yes, history cannot be changed. Is this, however, the most effective way to enhance the future? I find it hard to understand how a statue that has been ignored for so long could have such influence over the world we live in today. The notion that its absence could in some way usher in a new period of prosperity seems like a leap of faith to me.
I'm also wondering about the practicalities. What is the estimated cost of the new monument? More significantly, will it truly stand for all the individuals whose lives were influenced—and occasionally damaged—by Columbus' legacy? Decolonization is a process, and while gestures are important, inclusivity is more important.
Unquestionably, the removal of statues is a deeply symbolic act. We know from history that when monuments fall, governments change and societies draw boundaries. If so, though, why didn't Dr. Eric Williams, the first prime minister, take this action? He knew full well that Columbus had brought destruction. He left the statue in place and left the colonial-sounding street names in place. Why did we wait so long to take action?
It is worthwhile to ask these questions in order to consider how we approach the future as well as to evaluate the past. Maybe it's time for all of our leaders, including the mayors, to take a close look at the symbols and monuments in their local communities. Are they artifacts that obstruct the way to a more inclusive society, or do they actually reflect the people they serve?
Perhaps the question of whether we are prepared to put in the effort necessary for genuine change is more important than the arguments over stone and bronze in the end. The removal of any monument, no matter how symbolic, may only provide a surface solution until we address the underlying problems that beset us.
Sarge
Recently, the Columbus statue was removed from its prominent perch in Trinidad and Tobago—an act that, for some, felt long overdue. For others, it raised questions that still linger in the air. I can appreciate that the statue will be preserved in a museum, where future generations might see, firsthand, the likeness of Columbus and reflect on the complicated legacy he left behind. But it makes me question whether this symbolic act is truly addressing the more profound divisions in our society.
Let's face it: unemployment, poverty, and crime remain significant issues. Does the removal of a statue, no matter how controversial it may be, actually have an effect on matters that people face on a daily basis? There are moments when it seems like we're allowing our emotions to guide choices that are ultimately more symbolic than important. Is the notion that removing a monument will make the suffering of the past go away unrealistic?
Yes, history cannot be changed. Is this, however, the most effective way to enhance the future? I find it hard to understand how a statue that has been ignored for so long could have such influence over the world we live in today. The notion that its absence could in some way usher in a new period of prosperity seems like a leap of faith to me.
I'm also wondering about the practicalities. What is the estimated cost of the new monument? More significantly, will it truly stand for all the individuals whose lives were influenced—and occasionally damaged—by Columbus' legacy? Decolonization is a process, and while gestures are important, inclusivity is more important.
Unquestionably, the removal of statues is a deeply symbolic act. We know from history that when monuments fall, governments change and societies draw boundaries. If so, though, why didn't Dr. Eric Williams, the first prime minister, take this action? He knew full well that Columbus had brought destruction. He left the statue in place and left the colonial-sounding street names in place. Why did we wait so long to take action?
It is worthwhile to ask these questions in order to consider how we approach the future as well as to evaluate the past. Maybe it's time for all of our leaders, including the mayors, to take a close look at the symbols and monuments in their local communities. Are they artifacts that obstruct the way to a more inclusive society, or do they actually reflect the people they serve?
Perhaps the question of whether we are prepared to put in the effort necessary for genuine change is more important than the arguments over stone and bronze in the end. The removal of any monument, no matter how symbolic, may only provide a surface solution until we address the underlying problems that beset us.
Sarge
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