Guest writer

Bias in a billboard

Monument breaks commandment

The other day, I listened to Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" for the first time in many years.

I found the piece so stirring that I felt compelled to know more about it, so I Googled it. What I found, after searching through various classical music sites, reinforced what I've always loved about art: There was no true consensus among listeners as to what mood "Moonlight Sonata" was trying to invoke.

Some felt that it was disturbingly scary, others found it too sad and mournful, others too slow, and others (like me) thought it was one of the most beautiful things ever written. Even Beethoven himself had an opinion, having told a friend, shortly after he'd written "Sonata," that he believed it unworthy of the attention it received.

The point here is this: What is effective about "Sonata" is the room it leaves for the listener. Like all good art, it is careful not to tell, only to show. Of course, this principle applies not just to music, but to literature, and painting, and architecture.

It certainly applies to state Capitols.

Just as a piece of music is ultimately nothing more than a unique sequence of notes, so too is a Capitol, at the end of the day, nothing more than a special assimilation of stone, wood, and glass. It can be interpreted in any number of ways: as a radiant symbol of democracy; as a bastion of elitism; as a mere building. It can inspire or underwhelm the visitor.

Like Beethoven's "Sonata," its meaning and significance are not stated to the visitor, but discerned by him or her.

All of this would appear to be lost on state Sen. Jason Rapert (R-Bigelow). His legislation to erect what amounts to a Ten Commandments billboard on the lawn of the Capitol, which Gov. Asa Hutchinson approved earlier this month, would for the first time give the Capitol a stated cultural and religious bias. As visitors, this bias will not only inform how we interpret the site, but will also tell us how the site interprets us: as a friend if we've read or believe in the Bible; as an outsider if we haven't or don't.

We will be replacing, to keep the Beethoven metaphor intact, a sonata with a hymn.

For many visitors of Judeo-Christian lineage, the monument will no doubt serve as a kind of welcome mat--one can already imagine the families pausing to snap pictures in its reassuring shadow.

But if, over the entire life of this proposed monument, there is a single, law-abiding soul who leaves the Capitol grounds feeling unwelcome or marginalized, then we will have violated perhaps the biggest commandment of a functioning democracy: Thou shalt not create the potential for conflict where no such potential presently exists.

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Rob Guthrie is a writer and resident of Little Rock. His fiction and nonfiction have appeared in several national publications, including Pembroke and The Baltimore Review.

Editorial on 04/20/2015

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