MARBLE MONSTERS

In 1895 the burghers [burgueses] of Bristol in southwest England, swept up by the Victorian fervor for celebrating city fathers, were casting about for a big historical figure of their own. They settled on Edward Colston, a 17th-century merchant who had endowed charities that have lifted innumerable indigent Bristolians out of poverty and educated hordes [multidões] of its young citizens over the centuries. But, by modern standards, they picked the wrong guy: Colston made his money largely through the Royal African Company, which shipped slaves from Africa to the West Indies. On June 17^th protesters chucked [arremessaram] his statue into the city’s harbor.

Statues become flashpoints [pontos de inflamação] at times of social change because they honor values, and reflect hierarchies, of the times in which they were erected. What some in one era celebrate, others then and later often reject – hence the battles over statues of Confederate heroes in the southern United States, many of which were put up long after the Civil War, which lasted from 1861-1865 and in which the South tried to secede from the United States and set up a new country – the Confederate States of America – based on white supremacy and the perpetual slavery of African-Americans. Yet statues also provide a record of a country’s past, and the desire to respect and understand that history of commemoration argues against dismantling them. It is these conflicting urges that make this area so tricky [complicada].

It would be foolish to throw overboard all those figures who have in any way offended modern morality, just as it would be to preserve every bronze villain just because he’s ancient. Great figures should have a place in public spaces, even when their record is tarnished. As a rule, someone whose failings were subordinate to his or her claim to greatness should stay, whereas [ao passo que] someone whose main contribution to history was malignant should go.

These guidelines would allow most of those about whom Britain is now arguing to remain where they are. Colston doesn’t deserve such consideration. Oliver Cromwell, by contrast, caused terrible suffering in Ireland, but his role in democracy’s development justifies his presence in Parliament Square – he established in England the republican regime known as the Commonwealth, which lasted from 1649 to1653. Cecil Rhodes is a harder case. He was not the worst imperialist, but he drove many black Africans off their land. He left a huge, grubby [suja, imunda] fortune to charity. As his statue is the property of Oriel College, Oxford, it ought to put him in a museum.

America honors many people who happened to be slave owners – and so it should, in the case of such as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, known chiefly for their contribution to their country. But the pressure for change is forcing America to reassess its statuary. Many Confederate leaders have been removed in the past few years, and more should go, including Ben Tillman, a white supremacist still honored outside South Carolina’s state house; and Nathan Bedford Forrest, a brilliant Civil War general – but also a slave trader and, after the war, a founder of the Ku Klux Klan – whose bust is in the state capital in Tennessee.

Yet it matters not just that the undeserving are taken off their pedestals, but also how they go. The indignation of those who brought down Colston may have been righteous [justificada, virtuosa], but they were wrong to topple [derrubar] him themselves. Statues should be taken down, just as they ought to be put up, by social consensus; and even if the authorities dither [vacilar, perder tempo] for years – as Bristol’s city council has done over the erection of a plaque explaining Colston’s sins – that is no excuse for the mob [populacho, multidão desordenada] to take charge.

Prosecuting the topplers [os que derrubam] would not, however, be a good use of the state’s resources; nor should Colston be reinstated. He has been dredged out of the river, and the Bristol City Council is planning to put him in a museum.

_{Adapted from The Economist, June 13^th 2020.}

Introduction

This article from The Economist examines an increasingly widespread and polemical act, the removal of controversial statues from public spaces. In its analysis, the article offers guidance on how such removals could be justified and on what to do with statues that have been removed. Read the text and answer the questions below. You are advised to read the questions carefully and give answers that are of direct relevance. Remember: Your answer to this Question must be written in English. With this question, you may use American English or British English, but you must be consistent throughout.

(This question tests your ability to construct a balanced, considered, and fluent argument in the form of a short composition. The passage below (taken from the Chambers Dictionary of World History) gives a brief history of the bandeirantes: Read the passage and the accompanying Observations, and then, keeping that information in mind, answer the final question. Your answer, to be written in the space provided, should comprise approximately 180 to 300 words.)

In the following excerpt from the article “Political Rage Over Statues? Old News in the Old World” (The New York Times, August 17, 2017), Rick Lyman looks at how some of the former Communist countries of Eastern Europe have dealt with their controversial statues:

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“The bandeirantes were 17^th-century slave-raiders and explorers. Parties of bandeirantes (literally, followers of the bandeira) sought [procuraram] Indian slaves from the interior from among the sedentary Jesuit-led Guaraní peoples of the Platine Basin and peoples of the Amazon to labor on the coastal plantations [fazendas]. Initially permitted by the colonial government, their expeditions into the interior became a means by which the Portuguese could extend their rule well beyond the formal limits established by the Treaty of Tordesilhas. Their conflicts with Indian peoples took them into the gold-and-diamond-bearing districts of Minas Gerais and Bahia, which had been discovered by the late 17^th century. Their legendary feats [façanhas] in securing the interior of Brazil against Spanish, French, or Dutch penetration secured them the mythical role of “pioneers” in Brazilian history.

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Observation 1: Nowadays, many Brazilians, while not denying the courage, vigor, and geo-political achievements of the bandeirantes, criticize them as little more than gangsters who enriched themselves by grabbing gold and precious gemstones in the Brazilian interior and slaughtering and enslaving many thousands of indigenous peoples.

Observation 2: One of the most famous of the bandeirantes was Manuel de Borba Gato (1649-1718), whose 10-meter-high statue (13 meters including its pedstal) was sculpted by Julio Guerra and erected in the early 1960s, in the Praça Augusto Tortorelo de Araújo, as part of the the 400^th-anniversary celebration of São Paulo’s Santo Amaro district. Nowadays, many are calling for the removal of Borba Gato, affirming that it is morally wrong to honor a murderer, rapist, and slave-trader. Keep in mind that, whatever crimes Borba Gato may have committed in those violent and lawless days, they probably were not motivated by feelings of white supremacy, since the bandeirantes, in general, were usually of mixed Indian, Black, and White blood.

Observation 3: It’s important to keep in mind that, while generating a certain socio-political controversy, the statue of Borba Gato has rarely been accused of beauty. Many think it should be removed simply because of its alleged ugliness [feiura]. Supporters of the statue’s permanence often respond to that criticism by stating that “Well, I like it. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” [A beleza está no olho de quem observa, ou seja, gosto não se discute.]

Observation 4: If judged by today’s draconian standards, Michelangelo’s statue of Moses probably should be removed or even destroyed. What are its “crimes”?

1. Michelangelo (1475-1564) was an Italian Catholic who sculpted in white marble a Jewish prophet, at the request of Pope Julius II (1443-1513), head of the Roman Catholic Church (a multinational religious organization that at certain times in history has been lenient towards anti-Semitism). The statue was commissioned for the Pope’s tomb, which is housed in the church of San Pietro in Vincoli in Rome, though Julius himself is in fact buried in St. Peter’s Basilica. In any event, surely the statue of Moses must be considered a glaring [gritante] example of cultural appropriation. (Imagine the uproar [tumulto, gritaria] if a chief rabbi, say, in Israel commissioned the statue of a Roman Catholic saint for his tomb.)

2. Michelangelo sculpted Moses with horns on his head. Obviously, human beings don’t normally have horns on their heads. While many art historians have attributed Michelangelo’s wild aberration to his possible misunderstanding of a flawed [falhosa] translation in the commonly used Bible of that period, doesn’t it also imply anti-Semitism on the part of Michelangelo and the Pope? Shouldn’t the horns at least be cut off, to give a fairer, more respectful, more human appearance to Moses?

Observation 5: Strangely enough, no one ever seems to seriously call for the removal or modification or destruction of Michelangelo’s Moses. Rather, the statue is considered one of the greatest works of art of the High Renaissance and for centuries has attracted thousands upon thousands of people from around the world to gaze, awestruck, at its power and beauty. Apparently, thousands upon thousands of people from around the world do not travel to Santo Amaro to gaze, awestruck, at the power and beauty of Borba Gato. But if Borba Gato goes, shouldn’t Moses go, too?

Observation 6: Maybe we’re expecting too much from Borba Gato. After all, it’s just a mute sculpture [escultura muda] without the ability to defend itself (which is probably the main reason it is so often attacked). Plus, is it even art? Borba Gato was erected to help the burghers of Santo Amaro celebrate their district’s 400th birthday and also to promote a certain socio-political concept of Brazilian history that nowadays may be old-fashioned [ultrapassado]. Even the most skillful, artistic marketing can outlive its usefulness. And when that happens, can’t we, with a clear conscience, simply discard it? Besides, if Borba Gato is removed, will the situation of Brazil’s poor and oppressed suddenly improve – and will all Brazilians mysteriously forget everything they ever learned about the bandeirantes and their role in the nation’s development?

So, the question you need to answer is simply this: Why do you think Borba Gato should stay or why do you think it should go?

In answering, you may take into account legal, ethical, political, and practical considerations, but please strive to be as clear-sighted and logical as possible, supporting your point of view with specific arguments and examples. (And at the risk of sounding vague, we ask you to try to think like a lawyer.)