Symbolic meanings - present and significant, or merely armchair speculations?

 

About 6 months after the presidential election the road sign lingers.

Social observers are trained in various academic traditions, from (public) art criticism to social psychology to social anthropology. Ethnographers who document individuals and groups of people within their cultural landscape draw on diverse theoretical approaches to interpret the things they seize upon. One scholarly field is  Symbolic Anthropology, in which artifacts like flags or architecture or lyrics are closely examined for layers of meanings carried, sometimes easily explained by local residents, but other times only dimly recognized or felt. So the question of which meanings govern the people's uses, intentions, and reactions can be hard to answer: must a person be consciously aware of a certain facet of the multiple meanings for that sense to make an impact? Or can dormant meanings in one generation turn out to be dominant meanings in another generation. Even within the same generation will different factions of people emphasize different significance according to their own purposes? Furthermore, leaving the firm ground of conscious discussion and perception, will meanings that are only dimly perceived also bear on a person's seeing and behavior. Going further still, can certain dimensions of a ritual, a habit, or a living space that are unseen, unable to be verbalized, and are claimed to be absent or are dismissed as mischaracterizations (lies) made by others also be real?

The case of this photo illustrates some of this wondering out loud. The USA election of the nation's chief executive takes place every 4 years, in this instance early November 2020, with the newly chosen president's term of office beginning with the swearing in at noon of January 20, 2021. That is when Joe R. Biden took the place of Donald J. Trump. In many cities there is a local ordinance that requires property owners to remove political campaign signage within 3 weeks of election day. But this large display is a few miles east of the city of Lowell, Michigan, outside the city limits. It consists of a blue TRUMP flag facing west and the white edition facing east, sandwiching heavy black plastic lining material to withstand rain, snow, and wind. For months the "Thank you, President Trump [thank you for working so hard to] Keep America Great" message greeted passing motorists on state highway M-21. But then sometime early in April or possibly March 2021 the sign was shredded with the sharp slashes made to it. Without talking to the person or persons who expressed one or more meanings in this act, it is hard to know what it signifies precisely, at least within the scope of awareness in the perpetrator's intentions. 

From a symbolic point of view, the assault on the fabric of the political campaign flags could be an uncomplicated action to tell the property owner (or the person who the property own gave permission for the display) that the election is finished, the new president is in office, and the old president's traces and trappings should disappear. A more complicated statement might take into account the audience of curious drivers - those who resonate outrage to the offense, those who agree with the defacing action, and those indifferent to political matters all together. In this wider interpretation, not only does the vandal send a message to the display owner, but also communicates to the wider world of spectators: "Ex-president Trump is a blight to be removed," for instance. "I am doing that public service for you all. Since he shredded civil social life, now let his fabric representation be torn, too." An even more tenuous interpretation might be to view the violence as not only physical, but also symbolic: slashing apart the Trump name is hoped to work like a Voodoo doll to harm the one being referenced in name or in the form of figurine.

Going back to the initial question posed in the title of this article, there are seemingly unlimited layers of meaning to distinguish singly or in various combinations. In the eyes of those conducting the symbolic work of creating the display, and those destroying the display; or in the eyes of those passers-by who live in the vicinity or who happen to take this road one day and notice the sign, can anybody trained in Symbolic Anthropology ever make a convincing conclusion about the truest and most comprehensive interpretation for the whole thing? Or will any declaration have to be bracketed as "conscious meaning," "semi-aware," and "present but unacknowledged" dimensions of the significance. That is an open question: just because one interviewee says it is true, or on the contrary, denies a given point of view, that does not serve as the final word on the way that meanings are expressed, impressed, reworked, and associated from the immediate to more figurative or abstract realms of significance. This confluence and contradiction in interpretation echoes the tensions sometimes seen between "insider" (emic) and "outsider" (etic) standpoints.

In the end, symbolic interpretations have a valuable place in social analysis by widening the frame of meanings and motivations. But the most reliable assessment about one interpretation rising above others would seem to come from cross-checking the stated interpretation against observable responses: how people react, take action (or fail to act), and what they say that is consonant or that contradicts that claimed interpretation. The more that these parallel forms of meaning speak to each other, the more likely that the particular interpretation holds true. For this roadside statement near the intersection of Pinkney Road and M-21 just east of Lowell one thing is certain: the printed message associated with Trump now is rendered illegible. It shows the strike-through editing made of it.

A life put into words - histories and memoirs on the library shelf

 

library titles for history (Dewey 940s) rotated to make titles easy to read

At the branch library there is a bookcase filled with a variety of histories and memoirs to browse. Considering that each title is a self-contained work of one or more authors, almost always drawing on published work of others and interviews and other primary source material, as well, the true scope of page counts implicated in this modest collection is staggering, representing a volume of writings maybe 20 or 50 times as big as the space of this one bookcase.

The relationship of a book to its subject matter is similar to the classic illustration of an iceberg: the part that is visible (the individual book) is only a small fraction of the whole thing (cumulative mass of all the books and research sources used to create the one book that is visible on the shelf). Besides this compressed form of knowledge that the photo displays, there are other ways that the set of printed pages bound into book form are remarkable.

Asking a fish to describe the sea that it swims in leaves many important dimensions untold, since so much is taken for granted. The same is true in certain ways for a historian writing about the present day and the historical antecedents to it. Unlike the fish, though, a trained reader and writer of history can consult outside perspectives, cite documents, and study records for clues to bias and omissions. The books in this photo each represent many hours of drafting, then editing the books (not forgetting the shoulders that an author stands on and those many hours to author the earlier books on which the present-day books depend). Each title gives a representation of earlier people, places, and events. Necessarily, the process of telling about events requires "selective memory," leaving aside some parts in order to focus on other parts. That filtering effect probably owes something to the writer's personality and experiences, training and area of expertise, and current events and preoccupations around the time of composing the first draft. Having access to certain sources, but not to others, will play a part in the resulting book, too.

So much for the remarkable things going into this line-up of printed pages and the topics present (and by contrast the many other subjects that are absent). Another dimension of this library bookcase photo is the readership. It would be interesting to know what the lending patterns pre-pandemic and during the pandemic have been, either matched to demographic segments (male vs. female, retiree v. teen v. working age) or simply in the aggregate to discover which books are most and least circulated during their service life (until relegated to storage or sold). After all, the books in this photo appeal to certain sorts of people but not to others. Some readers are voracious in their appetite for the printed word (leaving aside the universe of ebooks offered to borrowers, too, as well as downloaded audio books or the audio CDs on a separate shelf), but others just read one book at a time and only a few per year. However, the usage patterns and sociological profiles may turn out, though, it is remarkable that busy residents of the city, surrounded by the "too much information" of 100s of cable TV shows, and the bottomless reserves ancient and modern discoverable online, still hunger for the people and places and events found on the books classified under the Dewey Decimal System under the history label.

Thanks to the Internet, such things as     archives of images, moving pictures, primary sources, and public domain books and music are only a few clicks away. It is getting easier than ever to travel in time or place by using these traces of earlier times and places. And yet, some readers eagerly browse the authors on this shelf to discover those worlds glimpsed through the mists of time in the words of delightful authors in well-organized chapters and paragraphs. It is hard to know exactly, according to the person or more generally for most readers of histories, what reasons attract people to the ink on these pages. Perhaps it is a desire to fill in hazy outlines of a particular time or place in the reader's mind; maybe there are personal or genealogical connections to the subject matter; or possibly the reader is hungry for escape from modern times and finds a sense of order and certainty that hindsight projects onto things. In any case, the books on these shelves - indeed on the shelves for all the other categories of publications recognized by the library system of classification - speak to certain readers and not to others, they reveal truths, and teach those searching for answers a few of the pieces to the puzzle that forms in the person's mind, one book at a time. Generations from now some of the same motivations will be there to write and to read history, although in that time maybe the idea of printing with ink on paper will be antiquated.