40 Statue or Statement? Racial Tensions in a 9/11 Memorial Teresa Nance Villanova University

Anita Foernan West Chester University

Surviving, Coming Together, and Coming Apart

A massive girder smashed through the window of Susan and David's artist's flat in the shadow of the World Trade Center Twin Towers. The room went absolutely black with smoke. The married couple, confused and paralyzed with fear, said their good-byes, crouched in a corner holding hands, and accepted their fate. But on September 11, 2001, fate was kind to Susan and David, who were profoundly grateful simply to have survived. They, like the city itself, were worse for the wear but fundamentally in-tact.

On September 11, Americans were uni-fied around one clear, simple task—sur-vival. Heroism, patriotism, and good will could be found on every street, perhaps best encapsulated by the firefighters on that day running selflessly through the streets of New York and into crumbling buildings just to help. During those first hours only survival was real, so real it was surreal and the initiating event impossible to fully comprehend. To seek comfort in a

situation that overloaded everyone's erno_ tions, Americans turned to symbols: the American flag, the "Pledge of Allegiance," T-shirts with Osama bin Laden's face in a bull's-eye.

But as the initial shock receded, more complex debate emerged. Some of it lated to the international political realities, but some of it brewed at home as it related to our new sense of self. The "ground zero" themes related to issues such as rebuilding at the World Trade Center site, distribution of donated funds, and, as we will discuss here, the symbols that would represent all that happened. Perhaps these debates are a positive indication of a return to normalcy. But following 9/11 it is our hope that the di-alogue around the symbols that represent us all will be informed by that moment of unity. Although the case presented here is of misunderstanding and missed opportu-nity, we believe it is also a chance for ex-change that heals and elevates. As individu-als who study communication, we acknowledge that the interplay between symbols and the events they represent are ripe for examination. The intensity of feel-ings around that date are well represented by the brief but potent furor caused by a proposed memorial statue based on a pho-tograph taken at the rescue site. This is the focus of the following case.

Good Intentions

. . . and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding.

—Albert Camusi

All Bruce Ratner, president of Forest City Ratner (a New York City real estate man-agement company), wanted to do was con-sole his grieving tenants, the Fire Depart-ment of New York City. His gift was to be a bronzed statue of three firefighters raising the American flag over the rubble that once was the World Trade Center. He wanted it to celebrate the fallen heroes of a horrific ter-rorist attack. He wanted his gift to memori-alize all 343 New York firefighters who gave their lives that fateful day. What he got in-

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stead was controversy, a controversy that forced to the surface deeply unresolved is-sues of race, culture, and identity.

Background to the Issues The idea was to create a statue to stand

in front of the Brooklyn headquarters of the New York City Fire Department. The $180,000 statue was to be based on a picture taken by Tom Franklin of the Record of Bergen County, New Jersey. The photograph showed firefighters Dan McWilliams, George Johnson, and Billy Eisengrein in an act similar to the soldiers raising the Amer-ican flag over Iwo Jima. In working out the details of the statue, fire department offi-cials, property owner Ratner, and Ivan Schwartz (president of StudioElS in Brooklyn) decided to employ artistic cense and create a commemorative statue depicting three generic firefighters: one with characteristically white facial fea-tures, one with characteristically black fea-tures, and one with characteristically His-panic features.

Two Arguments Against the Statue A clay model of the statue was unveiled

on December 21, 2001, and began to re-ceive almost immediate criticism. The most compelling arguments against the statue emanated from the firefighters themselves.

The first argument declared the statue historically inaccurate. According to this perspective, Tom Franklin took a picture of three particular white male firefighters. Consequently, the actual picture is a mean-ingful symbol and should not be changed. In drafting a letter and petition to Mayor Michael Bloomberg with the hopes of halt-ing the statue, Firefighter Steve Cassidy wrote the following:

There are two clear images that Ameri-cans will never forget. One is of Presi-dent Bush standing atop a pile of rubble with his arm around the shoulder of a firefighter. . . . The other is of three New York City firefighters raising an Ameri-can flag. . . These are real events that

positively reflect on the FDNY. It is our history, and it should not be changed.2

For many firefighters the issue was one of personal memory. By making the statue symbolic rather than representational, fire department leaders were betraying the memory of individuals whose unique acts of courage caused them to lose their lives. For them it was a matter of honor. Conse-quently, if a statue were to be created from the Franklin photograph, then there could be no changes.

Capt. Kevin McCabe of Engine 236 in Brooklyn stated clearly:

We have no problem with our African-American and Latino brothers being represented, just not with that image. That image is sentimental, and to change it is to tamper with a part of the Fire Department's history. 3

Tony Marden, a firefighter from Queens, offered that the reformation was "an insult to those three guys to put imaginary faces on that statue. not a racial thing. That shouldn't even be an issue."4

The second argument against the statue revolved around what many termed "politi-cal correctness." These individuals ex-pressed the view that the statue was a sim-plistic attempt to advance racial harmony and diversity over truth. This was the argu-ment that set off the most virulent national outrage against the statue. Critical head-lines such as "Diversity Notions Merit Hard Look" (Chicago Sun Times, January 15, 2002, Editorial Section, 27), "History vs. Diversity" (Santa Fe New Mexican, January 12, 2002), and "Brass Lie" (New York Post, January 13, 2002) began to appear in press around the country. Often quoted was Carlo Casoria, father of fallen firefighter Thomas Casoria, who summarily observed, "They're rewriting history in order to achieve political correctness."5

An interesting offshoot of this argument suggested that the diversity represented in the proposed statue did not accurately re-flect the diversity in New York's fire depart-ment. Of approximately 11,500 firefighters in New York City, only 2.7 percent are black and 3.2 percent Hispanic.6 Greg Freeman,

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in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, pointed out that in terms of firefighter diversity, New York was last among the eight largest cities in the United States.7 Paul Washington, president of the Fraternal Order of Black Firefighters and a proponent of using the actual faces of the flag-raising firefighters, concluded, "Our big issue was getting blacks onto this job.. . That gets us excited, not so much a statue."8

The Case for the Multicultural Statue

The response by the officials who com-missioned and authorized the multicul-tural design of the statue was at first defen-sive, then explanatory, and finally conciliatory. One department official said, "We have been taking a hit on this . but we are not going to reverse this short of a court order."9 A more clarifying explanation was offered by Frank Gribbon, a spokesman for the fire department:

Given that those who died were of all races and all ethnicities and that the statue was to be symbolic of those sacri-fices, ultimately a decision was made to honor no one in particular, but everyone who made the supreme sacrifice.1°

Kevin James, a representative of the black firefighters, agreed with department officials, saying, "The symbolism is far more important than representing the ac-tual people." James continued, "I think the artistic expression of diversity would su-persede any concern over factual correct-ness."11 In sharp contrast to the negative ar-guments made by some firefighters, proponents of the statue saw a need to cre-ate a statue that would symbolize rather than reflect the department's tragedy. This statue and its expression of diversity were meant to be a graphic representation of na-tional strength.

In the end, the fact that so many firefighters were unhappy with the statue led Fire Commissioner Nicholas Scoppetta and property owner Bruce Ratner to scrap their plans for the project on January 17, less than one month after their initial an-

nouncement.12 Michele de Nlilly, a spokesperson for Mr. Ratner, said in closing remarks about the statue, "We are taking time out. We are going to listen, talk to peo-ple, go back to the drawing board, and con-sider all the alternatives." 13

To date, no statue exists in tribute to the fallen firefighters of September 11.

Characterizing the Debate Notably, and perhaps because the entire

statue scenario played out within such a short period of time, the positions and is-sues in the debate remained firm. No men-tion, for example, was made of represent-ing female firefighters as well as male. No one came forward with alternate sugges-tions, such as examining other photo-graphs of rescue scenes and making the memorial an amalgamation of various res-cue scenarios; or, perhaps, using a memo-rial that was not representational at all, like the widely revered Viet Nam War Memo-rial. All interactants seemed locked into one dialogue, holding mutually exclusive positions that kept them from resolving the conflict.

On a more hopeful note, throughout the entire statue episode the good will and al-truistic intentions of the statue's benefactor were never impugned. Also, despite the deep and passionate feelings on all sides, many New Yorkers involved in the events attempted not to demonize the others' points of view and attempted to acknowl-edge valid concerns on both sides. As one moved away from the center of discussion, however, the more likely onlookers were to interject rhetoric that had become accusa-tory, contentious, and inflammatory.

Lessons Learned Too many controversies generate more

heat than light. This statue controversy rep-resents the struggle of America today and in years to come— to determine priorities and a unified view of our national identity. The firefighters' memorial statue may be lost to history, but the opportunity to learn from this interesting case should not be

Chapter 40 + Statue or Statement? Racial Tensions in a 9/11 Memorial 315

wasted. It is not our purpose to draw a sin-gle, strai.ghtforward lesson from these in-teractions. Rather, we merely want to ask exploratory questions in the hope that a productive discussion might take place.

To help us better understand why this controversy evolved as it did, it might be useful to consider what happened through the lens of standpoint theory. Standpoint theorist Julia Wood wrote,

The social groups within which we are located powerfully shape what we expe-rience and know as well as how we un-derstand and communicate with our-selves, others and the world.14

Although some standpoint theorists argue that often members of less powerful groups provide more objective views or perspectives than those who are more pow-erful, others add that we must remember that all perspectives are partia1.15

As students of communication, we rec-ognize that understanding communication conflicts is more like listening to an orches-tra playing an intricate musical composi-tion than it is like listening to a simple mel-ody played by a single instrument. It is not our purpose to draw a single, straightfor-ward lesson from these interactions. Rather, we simply want to ask exploratory questions in hopes that a productive dis-cussion might take place.

Consider the following, and add your own questions for reflection:

I Is political correctness a description of diversity initiative gone too far or a de-fensive claim of people afraid of artic-ulating what they really feel about race, culture, and ethnicity?

2. Why are there so few black and His-panic firefighters in New York City?

3. If color doesn't matter, then why was everyone so upset?

4. Had the photograph of the three firefighters been all people of color would anything have been different?

Taking time to think through critical mo-ments of cultural and racial conversational tension is one of the most valuable steps we

can take to achieve the true harmony the statue hoped to convey.

Endnotes

1. Albert Camus, The Plague. New York: Virt-tage Books; Reissue edition (May 1991), p. 131.

2. Michele McPhee, "Petition: Stop Fire Statue; FDNY Faction Says Design Alters Sept. 11 History," Daily News (New York), 15 Jan. 2002.

3. McPhee. 4, Stephanie Gaskell, "Fighting Terror—New

Threat—American Symbol; Flag-Raising Statue Stirs Debate Over Authenticity," Boston Globe, 12 Jan. 2002: Al2.

5. Gaskell. 6. Gaskell. 7. Greg Freeman, "Objections to Statue Re-

flect Lack of Diversity in NY Fire Depart-ment," St. Louis Post-Dispatch, 20 Jan. 2002: F3.

8. Scott Simon, "Reflection on Controversy Brewing Within New York Fire Department Over a Statue That Will Honor Firefighters Lost on September 11," NPR Weekend Edi-tion, Saturday, 19 Jan. 2002: (1:00 PM ET).

9. McPhee. 10. Gaskell. 11. Gaskell. 12. Kevin Flynn, "Ground Zero: A Mernorial:

Firefighters Block a Plan for Statue in Brooklyn," New York Times, 18 Jan. 2002: B-4-4.

13. Elise Young and Justo Bautista, "FDNY Re-considers Plan for Diverse Sept. 11 Statue: Other ideas for Memorial Being Weighed," Record (Bergen Coun-ty, NJ), 18 Jan. 2002: News: 5.

14. Julia T. Wood, Communication Theories in Action. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1997, 250.

15. E. M. Griffin, A First Look at Communica-tion Theoty, 5th ed. Boston: McGraw-Hill, 2003, p. 476.

References

Camus, A. (1991/1947). The plague, reissue edi-tion. New York: Vintage Books.

Flynn, K. (2002). Ground Zero: A memorial: Firefighters block a plan for statue in Brook-lyn. New York Times, 18 Jan.: B-4-4.

41 September 11 and ‘The Color Line' Robin R. Means Coleman University of Pittsburgh

Like many New Yorkers, I was up and about earlier than usual on Tuesday morn-ing. It was Election Day in New York City, and the mayoral race, in particular, had been a hotly contested, expensive, mud-slinging contest. The .energy around this election was intoxicating. Voting has al-ways been a joyous, empowering experi-ence that I relish, and I wanted to be among the first to pull a Iever. I could not wait to get back to my office in the Department of Culture and Communication at New York University, where I was a professor, proudly displaying my "I Voted Today!" sticker on my lapel.

When American Airlines Flight 11 buzzed the rooftops and rumbled past the balconies of the rnid-rise apartment build-ings in my lower-Manhattan neighbor-hood, finally coming to a fiery halt on the upper floors of the North Tower of the World Trade Center, I never thought I would see the day when voting would be the farthest thing from my mind—that is, until the morn of September 11, 2001.

I was, as I believe many of us were, taught to believe that the hallmark of a democratic society, specifically the "Ameri-can way," is one where important decisions are arrived at through a process of dialogue and negotiation. That is, various groups have their say and they are heard. It is this utopian view of participation that informs the American political tradition. And it is the frequent challenges to this view that keeps many of us immersed in teaching, re-search, and the study of scholarship, as we

seek to lay bare issues around social order, control, inequities, and the quest for em-powerment.

Since September 1 lth, I have been giv-ing careful thought to the relationships among power and powerlessness, social structure, and political consciousness. I wonder about for whom power in America is being organized and served since Sep-tember 1 1 th? Moreover, in the wake of these tragic events, what new questions and dilemmas arise about social structure, class, race and ethnicity, and sex domi-nance? Where do change and protest need to take place now, and what alternatives to affecting change and securing social justice can be agreed upon? Specifically, my con-cern is for those who have long been living a life of insecurity and powerlessness. It is a concern for those who continue to struggle to have their say and to be heard. Lately, my thoughts have been focused on two interre-lated themes: "historical lessons" and "ac-tivism." I make no attempt to provide defin-itive answers. My hope is to prompt dialogue and promote continued inquiry long after this chapter has been read. I would like for all of us to consider what our fate will be as this nation, and the world, di-rects its attention toward terrorism, do-mestic security, and war.

Historical Lessons From the Civil Rights Movement

Cornel West, Professor of Afro-American Studies and of the Philosophy of Religion at Harvard University, was in New York on September 1 lth to drum up last-minute support for Democratic mayoral candidate Fernando Ferrar. West was able to make it out of New York City and back to another city—Boston—that was reeling from its own proximity to the events: Two of the hi-jacked planes had flown out of Boston. And Boston media were circulating the story that Osama bin Laden's brother was a Har-vard law student.

On Wednesday, September 12th, West worked to make sense of the attacks for his Afro-American studies class. He called it the "Niggerization of America." I suspect

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the wounds from the attacks were still too fresh for his students. West's remarks were met with an initial uneasy silence. For a moment, West had become Malcolm X after the Kennedy assassination. The "Nigger-ization of America" had sounded a bit too much like the "chickens coming home to roost." I think we are ready, today, to begin to contemplate Professor West's meaning.

West's provocative moniker for these troubled times recalls lessons of Atherica's wounded past (and present) at what W. E. B. DuBois called "the color line." At the color line (as well as at religious, class, gen-der, sexual, and political lines), physical, psychic, symbolic, social, policy, and eco-nomic annihilations are witnessed. At "the line," cultural identity and difference are oddly linked with deficience and deviance, in the same way that racial difference re-sulted in some groups in the United States—Blacks, the Irish, Italians—to be dubbed as niggers, and treated thusly. West's "Niggerization of America" is a met-aphor for the same kind of mistreatments. It works to identify hatred boiled over, but this time, it is at the lines of national and in-ternational identity. Some in the world link American identity with moral, political, economic, and religious deficience. And America is currently facing a moment where physical, psychic, and economic annihilations are taking hold. The "Nigger-ization of America" is NOT, as used here, a lesson in the "chickens coming home to roost." Rather, it is a lesson about persecu-tion and how we respond to each other in the face of that persecution. I would like for us to consider what can be learned from the United States' own difficult encounters at the discrimination line as we contemplate our post-September 11 response in the quest for justice.

One thing known from this country's struggles at the lines of difference is that a sort of psychosis can settle in, in which the despised become self-loathing, internaliz-ing the world's hatred. As Frantz Fanon (1967), speaking of Blackness, intimated:

In effect, what happens is this: As I be-gin to recognize that the Negro is the symbol of sin, I catch myself hating the

Negro. But then I recognize that I am a Negro. [. .] (197)

But what if we say: "As I begin to recognize that America, with its presentation of de-mocracy and openness, is the symbol of sin, I catch myself hating such democ-racy." How is this new manner of self-hate revealed? The evidence lies in the latest hu-man rights violations that create the illu-sion that we are restoring America and its democratic power, when in fact, we are subverting it. Racial profiling, telephone taps, incarcerations based on little more than ethnicity, beatings, and harassment are all proof positive of internal hatred and persecution. More dangerous, however, is the hegemonic power that strengthens in times like these. Earl Ofari Hutchinson (2002) observed that the public is more than willing to accept racial profiling and abandon civil liberties protections, as long as Arab Americans and Muslims are the target. How sad that oppression works un-der the guise of patriotism and "homeland" s ecurity.

It was during the civil rights movement that similar so-called niggerization prac-tices of profiling, incarceration, beatings, and harassment in America were fought against. Interestingly, this nation is today employing the slogans and hymns adopted by movement leaders such as Martin Lu-ther King, Jr. A Pentagon September 11 me-morial service began with a soulful rendi-tion of "Amazing Grace," sung by an African American male. At our first meet-ing after September 11, the New York Uni-versity School of Education faculty was in-structed by the Dean to sing "Amazing Grace." Though another song was on the schedule, "We Shall Overcome," we, the faculty, did not have time, before meeting's end, to sing it. Many television and print news services adopted "we shall overcome" as the theme for their news stories. Presi-dent Bush has repeatedly offered the same pronouncement in his speeches. I see the embrace of these slogans of equality and justice, but without the resolution that the Black, Feminist, and Gay liberation move-ments demanded when they shouted these words. For example, tastelessly, telecom-

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munications companies AT&T and Verizon appropriated "Let Freedom Ring" in their advertisements to associate phone service with the spirit of political liberty. What will it take for us to remember that these power-ful words were meant to affect change and secure equity for all? I maintain that the key is activism.

Activism: The Gold Rolls vs. the Silver Rolls

The Colon Man. It is a name taken from a Panamanian city and a moniker that de-scribes the hundreds of Caribbean workers who labored on the Panama canal. The Colon men worked on the canal alongside Whites and Blacks from the United States. Here is the interesting part: Prior to 1906, if you were a canal worker, White or Black, from the United States, you were paid with a roll of gold coins. You were a "gold roll worker." If you were not from the United States, like the Colon men, you were paid with a roll of silver coins. And then came a change. After 1906, all Blacks regardless of nationality became silver roll workers. A11 non-Blacks became gold roll workers. In short, class and labor divisions shifted from nationality to the color line—just like that.

Our present new political landscape re-veals a number of similar shifts. Shifts in class status, in nationalistic allegiance, and shifts at the color line. My worry is the man-ner in which these shifts seem to bolster power and privilege hierarchies that have defined and plagued America. For exam-ple, perished gay men and women who fought for and earned a sort of "gold roll" standing at World Trade Center-located corporations, such as Cantor Fitzgerald and Lehman Brothers have left behind loved ones suddenly reduced to silver roll status as these life-partners learn that bene-fits, such as worker's compensation, fu-neral costs, and lost income payments, are limited to spouses. Far from possessing gold roll privilege, lower-income single par-ents, the jobless, and the homeless who looked to New York's charities for support have found their needs pushed to the back

burner in deference to "Trade Center wid-ows," as they have come to be called in the press. When tainted mail made its way to the Capitol, Tom Daschle had his gold roll status reaffirmed when he stayed out of work for a week and was tested for anthrax. The D.C. postal workers who processed and delivered anthrax-laden letters received sil-ver roll status with deadly results when nei-ther testing nor time off was made avail-able. I found myself receiving gold roll treatment as the air quality around lower Manhattan was tested a half dozen times a day while people like environmental activ-ist Armandina Solis Payen of Odessa, Texas, who has lived since 1969 next to a chemical plant, fight a losing battle against pollution and environmental racism and classism. I think often about some of the Blacks, Arabs, and Muslims who now em-brace the American flag for a gold roll pur-pose. They hope flag displays will keep peo-ple coming into their stores and taking their cabs, while also protecting them against prejudice couched as patriotism.

Co-cultural Cornmunication Insights

So what shall we do to make sure "liberty and justice for all" lives up to its promise so that we find fewer gold roll-silver roll dis-criminations? Mark Orbe (1998) detailed a co-cultural communication theoretical model that describes the communication processes of those who are traditionally marginalized within dominant social struc-tures (e.g., people of color, women, sexual minorities, and those from lower SESes). According to Orbe, co-cultural group mem-bers, those who also simultaneously exist within as well as apart from other cultures, have learned to communicate inside domi-nant, oppressive structures where they are often muted. Working toward a remedy, the co-cultural communicator, consciously or unconsciously, strategizes over what com-municative practices might be heard as well as might have some preferred outcome (usually equitable treatment). Orbe identi-fied 26 communication practices that in-clude, but are not limited to: emphasizing

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commonalities, putting on a positive face, averting controversy, bargaining, educat-ing others, censoring one's self, avoidance, and attacking. In employing such prac-tices, Orbe offered, co-cultural . communi-cators can expect three primary outcomes: (1) assimilation—the elimination of cul-tural differences in an attempt to fit into dominant society; (2) separation--a rejec-tion of common bonds; and (3) accommo-dation—the development of a structure that appreciates and respects each co-cul-tural group.

From Orbe's model we can take away a fuller understanding of the communica-tion strategies that are at times employed as groups seek to affect change—practices ranging from undoing gold-silver roll dis-tinctions (wouldn't it be wonderful if we were all afforded "platinum" consider-ation!) to dismantling so-called nigger-ization treatments. Therefore, it may serve us well to be cognizant of our communica-tion practices and the potential, resulting effects. For example, as Orbe elaborated, are we being "nonassertive," thereby put-ting the interests of others before our own? Are we being "aggressive," that is, are we being hurtful or controlling in our commu-nication? Or, are we being "assertive" by adopting a communication approach that takes into account our needs as well as the needs of others? As we undertake action-be it fighting for the restoration of our part-ners' benefits, securing equal and equitable treatments and protections from our em-ployers, or invoking political symbols to re-mind others of our patriotism while seek-ing to stifle bigotry—we must employ the most effective strategies that vvill ensure that we, indeed, have our say, and, impor-tantly, that we are heard.

It is also necessary to acknowledge that in these troubled times nearly all groups, even those who may be considered domi-nant or at the top of the cultural hierarchy, feel that they, too, are co-cultural, or marginalized. This is an effect of the recent "Niggerization of America" experience. Hence, we can expect to see similar com-munication strategies (e.g., separation) employed not just by people of color,

women, sexual minorities, and those from lower SESes but also by all members of so-ciety. For example, New York City firefighters received (well-deserved) gold roll-level tributes as they were memorial-ized in best-selling photo essays, in exhib-its, in documentaries, through an "FDNY" clothing line, and during remembrance ser-vices across the nation. However, when StudioEis in Brooklyn unveiled a clay model of a statue memorializing the 343 firefighters killed in the attack, a firestorm of protest was heard from the predomi-nantly White FDNY (out of 11,500 firefighters, 3.7 percent are Hispanic and 2.7 percent are Black). The statue was to be designed on the basis of the now-famous flag-raising photo, which shows three White firefighters raising the American flag atop about 20 feet of debris. The statue was to present an interpretation of the heroism captured in the photo by depicting one White, one Hispanic, and one African American hoisting the American flag. Over-looking the shared, multifaceted, overlap-ping nature of cultures that the statue cre-ators sought to symbolize, many White firefighters, believing they were being sym-bolically reduced to a silver-roll status in the name of political correctness, protested the installation of the statue. Still, if living in harmony with our neighbors is impor-tant to us, then overcoming differences is necessary. In the end, intercultural, co-cul-tural communication was silenced, and the symbolism of racial unity and collectivism was viewed as deficiently "p.c." and thereby "niggerized"—the sculpture was not di.s-played. Sarah Trenholm (1999) reminded us that even when we speak the same lan-guage, overcoming differences remains dif-ficult. Trenholm and Orbe's call for im-proved, reconciliatory communication is a righteous one. However, such accommoda-tion may be easier to theorize about than to practice.

Nevertheless, Mark Orbe is correct. To create respectful and useful co-cultural communication, while negotiating domi-nant and nondominant social positioning, is a principal responsibility for all of us. However, we must be careful that we do not

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solely preach to the converted (as may be those of you who are reading this essay). We all know that change may be thought about and theorized over in universities. But change is often affected in the public streets. The civil rights movement was led by a man who earned his doctorate from one of the finest institutions of higher learning in this country. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., ably moved his thinking on peace, rights, and politics, along with his tural communication, quite literally to the streets. King worked in the public service by recognizing the importance of commu-nication in the public sphere.

We are in dire straits, and the fight for so-cial justice must happen now. Whether you call it the "Niggerization of America" or "Gold-Silver Roll" status, such a divisive political landscape survives on our willing-ness to overlook the lines that embattle us. Silence is a vote for this emerging polit-icoeconomic structure and ideology. Do not underestimate the coercive and repres-sive power of silence, muting, and inaction.

Organized thinking and communication in our classrooms, behind our research, and on our streets provide solidarity and pro- mote the dissemination of alternative mes-sages. These are what are needed as racial profiling, sex discrimination, class privi- lege, and threat become embraced under the guise of "Enduring Freedom."

References

Fanon, Frantz. (1967). Black skin, vvhite masks. New York: Grove Press.

Hutchinson, E. (2002, September 19). Hate in the news: A jarring reminder on hate crimes. <http ://www.tolerance. org/news/article_ hate.jsp?id=613>.

Orbe, M. (1998, February). From the stand-point(s) of traditionally muted groups: Ex-plicating a co-cultural communication theo-retical model. Communication Theory, 8, 1- 26.

Trenholm, S. (1999). Thinking through commu-nication: An introduction to the study of hu-man communication, 2nd ed. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. +