After Penn State assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky was convicted of 45 counts of child molestation, the statue of his boss, revered head coach Joe Paterno was removed. The statue had been erected to honor the popular “winningest” coach in football. Once it became apparent that Paterno knew about the child abuse for years but said nothing, the university found his silence too egregious to explain away. No longer wanting to honor what he stood for, Penn State took his statue down.

That has nothing to do with the public outcry to remove statues of Confederate generals or unknown soldiers of the Civil War. Yet in opinion piece after radio call-in show after tweet storm, I hear that rationale used by those who want the statues taken down.

The Confederate statues were erected not to honor anyone but to intimidate. Granted, they are a reminder that slavery was the backbone of the Southern economy. The only way to detain people you’ve kidnapped in a life of servitude is to keep them dependent, demoralized and in fear for their lives. Some Southern property owners believed that was an acceptable tradeoff to keep the economy going, and went to war over it.

But the statues were installed during periods when whites wanted to underscore a belief in white supremacy. That crucial context undermines the argument that the statues are up solely for historical reference.

Some people now want those statues removed. The statues remind them of the horrific treatment of those of African heritage and the persistent pain of racial inequality. They don’t want to be reminded of the uglier side of humanity. Who can blame them for wanting to forget that we can be so incredibly cruel?

But especially now as the political and cultural currents take us in a direction many of us don’t want to go, we need to remember the darkness and just how deep and wide it can be. I have a strong sense of foreboding when I see some of the White House tweets, the legislative initiatives, the incomprehensible meanness toward people who are least able to fight back.

I’ve heard Chapel Hillians try to distance ourselves from some of the acts of the N.C. General Assembly, for instance, by saying, “This is not us.” We can’t afford to live in a protected bubble of liberalism. We can’t afford to erase the objectionable and pretend that we are not part of the sordidness around us.

We need always to bear in mind our capability for inflicting brutality and injustice and why it’s necessary for us to fight against it. That’s why I would argue the Confederate statues should stay, so long as we put them in context. Add plaques explaining this dark part of our history and reminding people that the Confederates, with their agenda of inhumanity, lost. Add other statues or works of art nearby that depict the struggle to redeem ourselves, something that shows “This is where we were; this is how far we’ve come; we don’t want to go back.”

We need to accept our past that gave in to the worst parts of ourselves; we need to acknowledge the long and difficult battle toward redemption. In these days in which the broader culture is urging us backwards, we need a reminder of where that path leads, and that we don’t want to go there.
— Nancy Oates