JUST WHEN you thought your next history lesson was not until September, the powers that be have conspired to keep life academic. "History" has been everywhere early this summer -- Ronald Reagan's death making history, thousands of mourners thronging the capital to be part of history, Smarty Jones failing to race into history and the deteriorating situation in Iraq threatening to look like a little bit of history repeating itself. The word "history" has been tossed about so much that BBC Newsman Daniel Lak observantly noted it is now difficult to know whether history is what shapes American perspective or whether American perspective shapes what we consider history.
In contrast, the last few weeks have also borne witness to a more traditional kind of history. Men and women from all over the world gathered in Washington and on the beaches of southern France to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the D-Day invasion and the Allied liberation of Europe. Like every other modern headlining event, the remembrance was accompanied by the expected slew of political accoutrement. World leaders put in appearances, and politicians of every ilk eulogized lost soldiers, naturally adding their own partisan slant to every tearful word. But unlike debate on Iraq or discussions of Reagan's legacy, coverage of the D-Day ceremonies also brought us the occasional glimpse of reality uncolored by modern partisanship.
Some of the most interesting coverage of the D-Day commemoration included interviews with French citizens -- young and old -- in Paris protesting American international policy the day President Bush arrived. They then immediately drove to Normandy to take part in services and offer their undying thanks and respect to thousands of American veterans. France has long been unreserved in its disapproval for American politics and values, such that most U.S. citizens associate the French with a general pathos against all things American -- an assumption with objective merit. Yet over the past week, France overflowed with nothing short of love for Americans and what they did during that fateful June of 1944.
A veteran who traveled to France for the event informed me that the appreciation was no façade. He told story after story of people of all generations who openly embraced him from the streets of Paris to the now-famous graveyard on the bluffs of Coleville, all offering words to the tune of "we can never thank you enough."
These Frenchmen, who vocally decried American policy and at the same time displayed heartfelt appreciation for Americans, demonstrated a multifaceted awareness that today seems in danger of becoming extinct. When asked about this discrepancy, the aforementioned veteran simply said: "They are able to separate politics from reality." Unfortunately, this simple idea has become foreign.
While the bipolar effect of American politics is invisible to no one, Ronald Reagan's death once again illustrated the shocking depth of the rift that divides our country. It is nearly impossible to find anyone willing and able to objectively evaluate the 40th American president. To the Republicans, he was the slayer of communism, the national rejuvenator and the greatest leader in American history. To Democrats, he was the "Star Wars" president and the rich white man who wanted to let something "trickle down" on the needy -- in short the locus of most economic and social ills that beset the country.
From Reagan to stem cells, national security, church and state, nothing stands in its own light these days. Dogmatic adherence to meaningless party affiliation and generalizations labeled "moral principles" color almost everything in the modern world, to the point where no one seems to be able to separate politics from reality -- not enough to dispassionately reflect on a past president and his work; not enough to make an educated decision regarding the hundreds of civilian and military lives haphazardly placed at risk in the Middle East.
This phenomenon is not restricted to the United States. The French display of cultural maturity this past week is certainly not the norm in Europe. Even across a continent that benefits from linguistic and ethnic homogeneity, the shroud of polar partisanship has descended, obscuring myriad important issues with bickering between the socialists and conservatives of all the developed nations. It is as difficult to find a story untainted by idealistic dichotomy in El Mundo or Le Monde as it is to pull one from the pages of the Wall Street Journal or The New York Times.
Unfortunately, it seems to take something as gut wrenching as row upon row of marble gravestones and the all too palpable memory of bloodstained tides to unearth much cultural maturity today. While we can only hope that the next decades will see a movement toward realistic, objective consideration of important issues in both America and Europe, and a migration away from the doctrinaire inflexibilities of modern politics, history, our stalwart friend, reminds us that in a world where the only looming conflicts are between power-grubbing partisans, reality may be hard to find.
Nick Chapin is a Cavalier Daily columnist. He can be reached at nchapin@cavalierdaily.com.