So I remember reading with dismay a letter reminding us that when we said the Pledge of Allegiance, we said "under God" to remember our forefathers, who came, the letter claimed, seeking religious freedom. I lived in Virginia. I was something of a student of history. I was a militant atheist. I knew these claims were wrong, at least regarding Virginia.
My letter was, needless to say, a masterpiece. It briefly described the original Pledge and noted that the phrase "under God" was added in the 1950s, about 60 years after it was written. Further, I noted, the people who settled where we lived, southeastern Virginia, were more looking for gold than for religious freedom. Finally, I noted the deism that many of the Founders followed. Game. Set. Match.
When the letter was printed about a week after I sent it (yes, we had to use snail mail), I was ecstatic. My ecstasy was, however, soon tempered by the realization that they had edited my letter. The effrontery! They had removed some radical claims about Abraham Lincoln's religiosity and had cut some confrontational language. And they had added a grammatical error in the last sentence when transcribing it. This was my first introduction to the world, the horror, of being edited.
I mention this because, as I have said, this letter was the only piece I have had published in a newspaper. Not that I've tried a great deal--four times this year and once, if I recall correctly, in 1998, I have submitted op-ed pieces to my local newspaper and the Washington Post. But today, a piece I wrote made it onto the op-ed page of the Raleigh News & Observer. Huzzah! Then, of course, the heartbreak of having been edited. D'oh!
But then a funny thing happened. I read the column in the paper, and then I read my original. The paragraph breaks had shifted in some cases, and the final paragraph and a sentence following it had simply been removed. Here is the paragraph:
This was followed by a recapitulation of the point earlier in the piece about we atheists, at least in this case, being our own worst enemies. When I wrote it, it seemed important. It seemed like I needed to make an explicit connection between the need among some atheists for "doctrinal" purity and the actions of fundamentalists who seek the same. I hoped that this might prompt some consideration of ways to behave better.
Unless I am missing the point. It may be that what atheists want is to proclaim their (our) truth loudly and proudly. In some atheist quarters, there is a stridency about this which makes suggesting accommodation akin to treason. One’s bona fides are questioned; one is criticized for not being a “true atheist.” Which is really strange, since that’s exactly what our true enemies, the fundamentalists, do.
Upon reflection, though, I can see that the cut was probably well-made. In the preceding paragraphs I had said what I needed to say, and this last paragraph might have limited, in some sense, my audience. Or it might simply have been too confrontational, a violation of the warning issued earlier in the piece about grabbing people by the shoulders and saying, "You're an idiot." Perhaps since it deals with atheists alienating each other, instead of the larger issue, it is simply out of place. Would another line, such as "Which is really strange, since that's exactly what religious fundamentalists do," or even "...religious fundamentalists, those who tore down the wall in the first place, do" function similarly?
At any rate, I think it was a good editorial decision, even though in some ways that last paragraph was my favorite (after, it should be said, the oblique reference to Pogo the Possum). Perhaps it is sometimes best to heed the advice of Arthur Quiller-Couch who famously counseled students to "murder your darlings." Still, my thanks to the editor(s), who made my piece better. That bit about the fundamentalists I'll hold on to.
In fact, truth be told, it's best placed in another piece.
Hmmm....
