January 6 and the Fear of Forgetting

(Source: Facing History)

I remember exactly where I was on the afternoon and early evening of January 6, 2021. I was sitting on the couch watching CNN. What I witnessed was a violent attempt to prevent the counting of electoral votes for a presidential election instigated by President Donald Trump, who falsely believed that he had been reelected.

In that moment much of the nation experienced a collective shock and outrage that few could have imagined would quickly dissipate and be redefined along partisan lines. What happened was obvious to just about everyone.

In that moment history appeared indelibly carved into stone.

How naive, especially for someone who studies the evolving and often murky distinction between history and memory.

Despite a bi-partisan congressional hearing and investigation that resulted in a thorough and exhaustive report, we have never been more divided as a nation over what happened that day and what it means for the future of our democracy. We are in the midst of a clash of memory.

Other than the September 11 terrorist attacks, no event has been more thoroughly documented through photographs, video, and eyewitness testimony. We are awash in the raw material of history.

It’s hard not to feel a sense of desperation and emptiness on this four-year anniversary, not because there is any doubt as to whether this most recent election will eventually be certified, but because we are still living the events of January 6, 2021, the consequences of which are still unknown.

President Joe Biden is still living the events of January 6, 2021:

We should be proud that our democracy withstood this assault. And we should be glad we will not see such a shameful attack again this year.

But we should not forget. We must remember the wisdom of the adage that any nation that forgets its past is doomed to repeat it. We cannot accept a repeat of what occurred four years ago.

An unrelenting effort has been underway to rewrite — even erase — the history of that day. To tell us we didn’t see what we all saw with our own eyes. To dismiss concerns about it as some kind of partisan obsession. To explain it away as a protest that just got out of hand.

Regardless of his plea not to ‘erase the history of that day,’ what Biden is really invoking is the primacy and importance of memory and his place in this unfolding story.

Then there is Aquilino Gonell, a former sergeant in the Capitol Police, who can still recall with ease the violence witnessed that day and its long-term consequences on his mental health:

For my efforts doing my duty as a Capitol Police sergeant, I was beaten and struck by raging rioters all over my body with multiple weapons until I was covered in my own blood. My hand, foot and shoulder were wounded. I thought I was going to die and never make it home to see my wife and young son….

I was one of the fortunate ones that day; nine people wound up dead as a result of the rampage. Two protesters had fatal medical episodes, one rioter overdosed during the uproar and another was fatally shot by a policeman while forcing her way into the House Chamber. One of my colleagues, 42-year-old Officer Brian Sicknick, suffered two strokes after the trauma of fighting off multiple protesters who sprayed him with a chemical irritant. He didn’t survive. Four D.C. policemen harmed in the riots later died by suicide.

My friend Harry Dunn, the first law enforcement member to prominently condemn the brazen uprising, testified about our primitive hand-to-hand fighting against improvised weaponry like flagpoles, metal bike racks and projectiles, with officers bleeding, blinded and coughing from bear spray. Harry, who was called racial slurs, has since retired his blue uniform. My co-worker Michael Fanone was beaten, burned and electrically shocked. He suffered a heart attack, concussion and traumatic brain injury that caused him to also leave his position at the Metropolitan Police. While physically recovering, he’s been the target of constant harassment from Trump supporters and has struggled to find steady work. Steven Sund, who was the Capitol Police chief, has been scapegoated and resigned under pressure.

I required multiple surgeries, years of rehab and treatment for recurrences of the post-traumatic stress disorder I was diagnosed with in the Army. I was vilified and called “a traitor,” as Mr. Trump and some of his fellow Republicans called the riot a “day of love” and a “peaceful protest” by “warriors,” “patriots,” “political prisoners” and “mistreated hostages.”

Both accounts highlight just what is at stake in this moment. For Biden it is a concern about the fragility of our democratic system as much as it is his own legacy. For Gonell, it is the trauma and violence of that day, the loss of friends and colleagues, and a lingering sense that it had all been for nothing.

Our memories of what happened that day are not stuck in the past, but tied directly to how we view this nation’s history, its current state, and, perhaps most importantly, its future direction.

One of the reasons why we hold so tightly to our personal memories of that day is because on some level we know that with each day they grow weaker. They become entangled with and obscured by new experiences. More ominous is the fact that there is no guarantee that they will be reflected in the nation’s collective memory at some future point.

Historians will eventually write and inevitably disagree about how to interpret the events of January 6, 2021. That’s the nature of history, but what many of us fear in this moment is a lived experience and personal memory that runs the risk of being reduced to partisan politics, long before any meaningful lessons can be learned and embraced for the benefit of future generations.