GUEST OPINION, Feb. 21
By: Patrick W. Gavin
I recently revealed to one of my students that George Washington never chopped down any cherry tree and, therefore, he never had to come clean about any such thing to his father. While Washington may have been an honest man, I told her, a cherry tree had nothing to do with it.
She slowly turned to leave, carrying with her a face full of shock and disillusionment. My revelation had turned her world upside down. As she stumbled out of the room, tripping on her previous notion of morality, she asked: "If George Washington didn’t chop down the cherry tree, then who did?" She had a point: If the cherry tree story now just a lie to her had inspired her to live an honest life, what reason did she now have to remain truthful? And was I wrong to have revealed the fallacy of a legend that had previously served her so well?
The grand reputations of America’s historical idols are all slightly enhanced by the occasional myth, exaggeration or omission. For instance, schoolchildren hear little about Washington’s slaves and they hear plenty about his military sophistication although, in truth, his battlefield competence was decent at best. With Lincoln, we are led to believe that he was the "Great Emancipator" whose views on civil rights would rival Dr. King’s. This is also only a half-truth.
What, then, is the purpose of historical myths? Is it is more important to teach young, growing American minds the absolute truths about our leaders even the ugly ones than it is to instill a foundation of national pride in them? Do the values that we gain from myths outweigh the worth of complete honesty? The glittering generalities that we sprinkle throughout much of our history are intended, in part, to breed an admiration and respect for America, its leaders and its values. Clearly, there is a practical advantage to this after all, their nation will need them to be productive, obey laws, pay taxes and, occasionally, sacrifice their lives for their country. Will we perform better as a country if we think that we’re better? A nation’s citizens will act in light of how they think of their past, and if that past is consistently scandalous, what are we to expect of our people? And isn’t our propaganda simply a way to counteract the propaganda of other nations, who are also furthering their own myths?
The problem with myths, of course, is that many of them can be insulting to those who weren’t on the winning side of that particular story. For instance, how does our idolatry of Washington make African-Americans feel, knowing that he was one of the biggest slaveowners of his time? How does our celebration of Columbus make Native Americans feel? FDR and the Japanese? Andrew Jackson and Mexicans? Also, many myths can be downright dangerous. Some people in this country, for example, justified slavery with the illusion that slaves were inherently inferior.
It seems, then, that the utility of a myth depends on whether or not the value gained from the truth exceeds the value of the myth’s function in society. For instance, we have arrived at a point in history, it seems, when we do more damage than good by unequivocally praising the accomplishments of Christopher Columbus, and ignoring his faults. On the other hand, my now-cynical student gained very little and lost a whole lot by hearing about the truth behind the cherry tree story. On occasion, perhaps ignorance truly is bliss.
Patrick W. Gavin teaches U.S. history at Princeton Day School.

