The Flag Controversy and the Causes of the Civil War: A Statement by Historians

We South Carolinians--black and white--have a thing about history. To us it's something that continues from the past into the present. That's what visitors first notice about us, especially here in Charleston. We look to the past with nostalgia and to the future with hope; for memory without hope is unbearable, and hope without memory is impossible. Our history is a long tragic legacy of black and white harnessed together in slavery and segregation, in guilt rather than innocence, in defeat rather than victory, in failure rather than success. It is a history rich in experience. And it is available to no other Americans.

But we don't understand our history, and that leaves us terrified and touchy. Mistaking our history for our heritage, we sometimes betray our real Southern heritage--a heritage of courtesy and hospitality and cultural creativity. Claiming to defend our heritage, we are false to its lessons, false to our better selves, and false to the great opportunities--and great responsibilities--that lie around us.

For we are the products not only of the defeats of our history but also of the achievements of our culture, a culture of folk and feeling--the rich and instructive humor of our Buh Rabbit tales; the haunting cadences of our majestic spirituals, our stately ballads, and our doleful but defiant blues; the awesome virtuosity of our jazz and bluegrass artists; the beauty of our prized sweetgrass baskets; our striking wrought-iron gates; and our acclaimed Edgefield and Catawba pottery. These are in themselves serious and significant artistic expressions. But they also reveal the visions and values by which our people have lived. They provide an insight into the very essence of South Carolina.

That is our real Southern heritage, and all of us who have lived here have left our mark on it, just as it has left its mark on all of us. Whether black or white or red, as we come to understand our shared traditions, we find much more that unites us than we find that divides us.

We began as many. Colonial South Carolina was made up of various peoples. We were Englishmen (some of us by way of Barbados). We were Scots and Scotch-Irish, French Huguenots, German Lutherans, Welsh Baptists. More of us were Jews than in any other state. And more of us were African than European. We were Fula or Fulani, Mandinka or Mende, Fante, Ashanti, and Yoruba, Congos and Angolas, Ibos and Coramantees. And we met more of us who were already here. We were Chicoras, Creeks, Choctaws and Cherokees; Sampits, Santees, Savannahs and Sewees; Yemassees, Waterees, Waccamaws, and Westos. We were members of the great composite Catawba nation, composed partly of remnants of smaller tribal peoples. And we kept coming. We were Irish and Italian, Greek and Lebanese, Chinese and Vietnamese, Israeli and Hispanic. Here in South Carolina the rich composition of our peoples, our origins, and our traditions resembled a patchwork quilt--each with distinctive elements, each contributing a special quality to the cultural whole. We were multicultural before multicultural was cool.

But we can never reach our potential as a state, and as a people, until we can accept our multicultural heritage as it really is. For to accept our heritage is to confront both the tragic failures of our history and the triumphant achievements of our culture, affording us a deeper and more compassionate understanding of the failures and triumphs of human beings everywhere, and a greater sense of where we are now, and of what we must be about. To accept our heritage is to understand that the old songs and the old tales, the old prayers and the old personal expressiveness are more than just quaint cultural artifacts. They are sources of strength that still enable us to cope with the hale and upheaval of life. They make up both our lifeline to generations gone before and our commitment to generations yet to come.

To accept our heritage is not only to love...