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Syracuse University possesses two statues of President Abraham Lincoln, also known as the Great Emancipator.

The first is a bronze sculpture portraying Abraham Lincoln as a young lawyer, which sits in Bray Hall on SUNY ESF campus. The second, gracing the courtyard in front of Maxwell Hall, is James Earl Fraser’s Seated Lincoln, made in 1930, where he sits pensively on a stone outcropping atop a raised pedestal, albeit modestly low. With his head bowed, back hunched forward and elbows resting on his thighs, Lincoln does not convey a patriotic elegance, rather his blank meditative gaze depicts an everyman deep in thought.

Here sits a President worthy of our admiration and sympathy.

However, such awe-inspiring statues can be deceiving, for monuments are both symbols of value and oppression. Lincoln symbolizes the re-establishment of the United States, the abolition of slavery and the embodiment of our inalienable rights. The Lincoln statue has even inspired our very own Professor George Saunders. But we must not blindly accept these virtuous symbols nor be fooled by Lincoln’s humble appearance.

As we all know, our campus sits on Onondaga soil and SU has accommodated that through land acknowledgment and covering a majority of tuition for students from the Haudenosaunee Nations. What we may not know is that Lincoln’s encounters with Native Americans were anything but. In 1862, Lincon ordered the execution of thirty-eight Dakota natives for rebelling, making it the largest mass execution in our nation’s history. Moreover, although hailed for the Emancipation Proclamation, he was a true product of his time, and had an unbending belief in a racial hierarchy.

So why do we not question this statute’s presence?

Until recently, to some, statues were once the most invisible form of public art. We have all fallen prey to their natural presence. A presence that has permeated itself into the roots of our society and legitimized its power and oppressive ideology. We have grown accustomed to letting these statues speak for us. But this statue does not speak for me.

A constant echo sounds in our ears of America’s failing democracy. Scholars have even published pocket-sized handbooks with steps on how to avoid tyranny. We, the student body and faculty, must not let these statutes dictate our thinking. We come to SU with the hopes of contributing to something greater than ourselves. As students and citizens, we have a moral obligation and civic duty to uphold our democratic values. We have a voice and with our voices, we must express our opinions. We have the power to control and tame the symbolic messaging ingrained in the visual politics of our campus.

The ironic placement of Lincoln, cradled by a school that values citizenship, ethics and justice to promote the public good, is indeed, contradictory. I believe Lincoln would want his statue removed, for these are the same values that he too admired. He would urge us to reconsider his position. Our indecisiveness in what to do with this President even mimics the accompanying plaque that sits before him, for it has remained empty for years — a literal and metaphorical gesture to the hollowness that this bronze statute provides.

Why have we not acted? Why do we continue to fail him? And why do we continue to fail ourselves?

In becoming aware of the hidden histories covered in this shimmering bronze human facade, we at SU have a moral obligation to stand on the side of justice. While I acknowledge that Lincoln’s actions stimulated positive social change for the future of the United States, his presence and beliefs stand at odds with today’s public.

The removal of this statue should not be demonized as unpatriotic nor characterized in terms of sacrilege, but rather as citizens employing their freedom of speech and expression.

Different eras choose different languages in which to communicate — the past’s was statues. We can choose ours. Long gone are the days when people require a statue to express the ideal model one should aspire to. While I do not have the answer for what is to replace ole’ Honest Abe, I will advocate for something more natural than an individualized statue whose unwanted presence remains palpable in a space no longer requiring his guidance nor our sympathy.

An absent Lincoln would provide us with an empty space that would mark a new beginning, for emptiness symbolizes freedom and possibility. But we must remain cautious, for in playing a political game of tit-for-tat, replacing a statue with a statue, would be highly problematic and foster an unwanted and unneeded dialogue that would keep us confined to the past, much like the ideological aim of this statue. This empty space – our space – can be rewritten but we must be content in waiting until our preferred language is chosen.

Dominic Zaffino, MA Candidate at Syracuse University

Published on November 15, 2022 at 11:51 pm