We’re officially at the “can you top this” stage of the Confederate flag debate, where the intolerant Left competes to make the most extreme cultural and legal demands. As Memphis votes to dig up Confederate bones, an American Studies professor at UMass, Amherst wants to criminalize private displays of the flag:
It is a fine thing that the Confederate flag will no longer fly above the South Carolina state capitol. But displaying the Confederate flag anywhere is, at bottom, an act of hate. It should be recognized as such, and punished as a hate crime.
Given the millions who suffered under the whip of slave masters, and all the families separated as slave traders sold sons and daughters away from their parents, and wives away from their husbands, All Americans should recoil from the Confederate flag with the same horror we feel for the Nazi swastika.
These two paragraphs represent the perfect example of a social justice warrior at work. Willing to not only cast aside the First Amendment but also imprison Americans for private expression? Check. Dredging up idiotic Nazi analogies? Check. Writing it all up in Salon.com? Check. For some on the Left, we’re well past anything resembling an actual argument and on to the cultural search and destroy mission. But why stop at flags? After all, the governmental Left days ago moved on to statues, monuments, and graves. The academic Left should go after books. Let me suggest a target — William Faulkner. After all, he wrote this:
For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t even begun yet, it not only hasn’t begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin against that position and those circumstances which made more men than Garnett and Kemper and Armistead and Wilcox look grave yet it’s going to begin, we all know that, we have come too far with too much at stake and that moment doesn’t need even a fourteen-year-old boy to think This time. Maybe this time with all this much to lose than all this much to gain: Pennsylvania, Maryland, the world, the golden dome of Washington itself to crown with desperate and unbelievable victory the desperate gamble, the cast made two years ago; or to anyone who ever sailed a skiff under a quilt sail, the moment in 1492 when somebody thought This is it: the absolute edge of no return, to turn back now and make home or sail irrevocably on and either find land or plunge over the world’s roaring rim.
Hater. Burn his books.