I suppose I have a lot of gall in claiming to understand what goes on in the heads of conservative Southern whites. (I’ll refer to to them hereafter as “Cashews,” for simplicity.) My father grew up in Brooklyn and my mother in Los Angeles. Both were first generation Americans, the children of European Jews. Their cultural roots, and hence mine, have nothing whatever in common with those of people whose forebears fought in the Civil War. Still, it’s no big deal to figure out what makes Cashews tick—not after their recent outpouring over the Confederate flag.
That flag stirs two different kinds of emotions. The first kind I’ll call “Roof” emotions, in recognition of Dylann Roof, a dyed-in-the-wool racist. (By the way, who spells “Dylann” with two n’s? Perhaps it’s a clue that insanity runs in his family.)
Roof emotions are what a white supremacist feels when he contemplates the possibility that skin color will play no part in determining who marries whom, who gets hired for what, who is respected by society, and who wields political or financial power. A white supremacist knows that whatever befalls him, he can never fall so low as to be the equal of a person with a tincture of African blood, and society must be ordered to reflect that truth. Until well into the Twentieth century, the South was full of Dylan Roofs. The Stars and Bars reminded them of their God-given supremacy. It was fully the symbolic equivalent of the swastika. That taint will never fade, nor will its power over the remaining Dylan Roofs ever dissipate. That’s why it must disappear from our lives.
The great majority of Cashews, on the other hand, are filled with “rebel” emotions when they see the Confederate flag. Rebel emotions are centered on pride—pride in living the life of one’s choice, of respecting no master. (Ironic, huh?) No far-off, out-of-touch government can tell the rebel what to do, and if they try, they’ll have a fight on their hands! And when you think about it, isn’t this the very conviction that gave birth to America? Isn’t it also the conviction behind the 10th and 2nd Amendments—the ones that guarantee regional sovereignty and the means to ensure it? As any Cashew will tell you, that is the beating heart of the Constitution.
Although the rebel psyche is centered in the South, it extends well beyond it. Today, it envelops all the Red States; it forms the core of that wonderful oxymoron, “Republican thought.” It makes perfect sense that the rebel psyche is blissfully at home in the Republican Party. What do Republicans want to do above anything else? Protect privilege. What’s the biggest threat to privilege? Government intrusion. Therefore, government must be small, weak, and non-invasive. It’s a tenet right out of the Cashew credo!
Unfortunately for Cashews and—let’s face it—for most Republicans, there is now a hole in their lives. They have their principles but no symbol to infuse them with a proud, fighting spirit. Certainly the American flag won’t do. It practically screams federalism. After all, those stars are all penned up in a blue field. They aren’t even “free-range” stars. Obviously, a new symbol is needed—one that projects fierce independence and a readiness to push back when government gets too big for its britches. I can think of only one that will fill the bill, that will register a “10” on the Cashew meter. It’s the image of a man who will brook no interference in his affairs, a man who is ready to shoot you if you mess with him: Yosemite Sam!
The Scratching Post 