THE ENOLA GAY IN AMERICAN MEMORY:

A STUDY OF RHETORIC IN HISTORICAL CONTROVERSY

by
SATORU AONUMA
DISSERTATION
Submitted to the Graduate School
of Wayne State University,
Detroit, Michigan
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
2005
MAJOR: COMMUNICATION
Approved by:
______________________________
Advisor
Date
______________________________
______________________________
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UMI Number: 3198673

Copyright 2005 by
Aonuma, Satoru
All rights reserved.

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 COPYRIGHT BY
SATORU AONUMA
2005
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Foremost important, this dissertation would never have been completed
without generous support and encouragement of the following people: Dr.
George Ziegelmueller, my main dissertation advisor; Dr. Bill Trapani; Dr. Bernard
Brock; and Dr. Gordon Neavill. They are sources of my inspiration and, more
important, they incidentally are on my dissertation committee. I would especially
like to thank Dr. Ziegelmueller for his professional guidance as well as personal
support in completing the manuscript. I would also like to thank Dr. Sandra
Berkowitz (now at Maine), my former advisor, for her encouragement and insight
in developing my thought on the subject. I sincerely wish her well.
My sincere gratitude also goes to the graduate faculty, administrative staff,
and friends I had in the Department of Communication at Wayne State: Dr. Matt
Seeger; Dr. Mary Garrett; Dr. Larry Miller (formerly of Wayne State); Dr. Jack
Kay; and Joe, Beth, Chris, Omar, Dianne, Helen and Sharon. I also owe a great
deal to my mentors at the University of Iowa where I was first disciplined and/or
emancipated as a student of communication: Dr. John Lyne (now at Pittsburgh);
late Dr. Michael McGee; Dr. Bruce Gronbeck; Dr. David Hingstman; Dr. Takis
Poulakos; and Dr. John Peters. I also thank members of debate teams I
associated with at Wayne State and Iowa for sharing fun and joy.
In addition, this study is indebted to the following individuals for their
insights and assistance in locating and obtaining research materials: Cesar
Quinones of the Smithsonian Institutions Office of Public Affairs; Keith Gorman
and Ellen Alers of the Smithsonian Institution Archives; Ted Yorkshire and
ii

Pearlie Draughn of the Air Force Association; Dr. Robert Newman; and Philip
Dalton.
Finally, I thank my parents for their understanding and support and Kanda
University of International Studies and Sano Gakuen for granting me a sabbatical
and research fund that enabled me to complete my doctoral work, including this
dissertation.

iii

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter

Page

ACKNOWLEDGEMETS.............................................................................................. ii
CHAPTERS
CHAPTER 1 Introduction.............................................................................1
CHAPTER 2 From Cabinets of Curosities to Political Forums: The
Metamorphosis of American Museums ......................................................28
CHAPTER 3 Locating the Enola Gay Controversy: Its Time and
Place ................................................................................................................43
CHAPTER 4 From The Crossroads to The Last Act: Putting an End
to the Smithsonians Critical Commemoration...........................................73
CHAPTER 5 Conclusions....................................................................... 116
REFERENCES ........................................................................................................ 153
ABSTRACT .............................................................................................................. 180
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL STATEMENT ................................................................. 182

iv

CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION

Prefer to leave behind you as a memorial images of your character rather

than of your body. . . Do not suffer your life to be at once wholly blotted out,
but since you were allotted a perishable body, seek to leave behind an
imperishable memorial of your soul. (p. 61)
Isocrates (1928b), To Nicocles
The Americans are a good-natured people, kindly, helpful to one another,
disposed to take a charitable view even of wrongdoers. Their anger
sometimes flames up, but the fire is soon extinct. (p. 285)
James Bryce (1921), The American Commonwealth
Americas social and historical ignorance is so great that it constitutes a
threat to American society. It is as if our society were distorting its own
memory. This, it may be well pointed out, is the mark of an irrational man as
well as of an irrational society. . . One sign of a sick society is the failure to
judge the past in the present, to distinguish the political realities that in the
past tore fabric of the society.
This mythology is not created by a secret elite, it is not taught and
perpetuated by a clique of professors and publishers. It is a mythology by
default and neglect. (p. 218)
Richard Means (1969/1970), The Ethical Imperative: The Crisis in
American Values
In January 30, 1995, I. Michael Heyman, the Secretary of the Smithsonian
Institution who assumed that office only a few months earlier, announced the
cancellation of a long planned special exhibit. The exhibit, which was to have
opened at the National Air and Space Museum (NASM) in Washington, D.C. in
May of that year, was to have marked the 50th anniversary of the end of World War
II. A significant feature of the planned exhibit was the display of the fuselage of the
Enola Gay, the Boeing B-29 Superfortress from which the worlds first atomic
bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan in 1945. According to the (official)

American history of World War II, this historic mission forced Japan to surrender
and eventually ended the war. Since the Smithsonians acquisition of the Enola
Gay, the aircraft spent most of its time at the Institutes storage and restoration
facility outside the Washington Mall and had not been placed on public display.
The planned exhibit got into serious trouble, however, before it was actually
put into place, and that trouble eventually forced the Smithsonian to give up its
whole planning. In early 1994, when the NASM curators released the first draft for
the exhibit, critics immediately took issue with it. The critics harsh reactions to the
script

initiated and aroused widespread public controversy.

Overall, the

controversy involved philosophical, political and personal concerns, and objections

were raised by diverse individuals and groups who had vested interest in the
history of the atomic bombing and the end of World War II. The issues involved in
the controversy were extremely complex. In the planning stage of the exhibit, there
was an issue over what was the appropriate role of public museums. This issue
became even more complex by the fact that NASM had a special mission that
superceded any general philosophical mission of museums in American culture.
While professional historians pressed the NASM curators to provide a more
balanced historical account of the atomic bombing, veteran groups raised totally
different objections to the exhibit, criticizing the Smithsonian that its planned
exhibit failed to commemorate the Enola Gays historic mission appropriately.
Concessions and negotiations between the Smithsonian and its critics
continued for a year, and during the process the script underwent numerous

corrections and revisions. The controversy also became overtly publicized and
politicized, as the mass media, members of the House of Representatives and the
Senate, and even White House got involved. Realizing that the negotiations were
getting nowhere, the Smithsonian finally called off any further discussions and
froze preparation for the exhibit. At the same time when the cancellation of the
exhibit was officially announce, Martin Harwit, who had been Director of NASM,
offered his resignation. Heyman took over the curatorial authority from the NASMs
original project team, apologized to the critics, and promised that he would be
personally responsible for writing a totally new exhibit plan which would give more
appropriate treatment to the Enola Gay and its historic mission.
This dissertation presents a rhetorical case study of this historic
controversy. This introductory chapter first provides a general framework for the
study and demonstrates its significance, and then moves on to appraise previous
studies that have dealt with this controversy. Following this critical assessment,
the chapter presents specific research questions that this study will seek to
answer, identifies research materials (texts) and describes the analytical strategy
(method) that will be used to answer these questions. The chapter concludes
with an organizational outline, and with brief descriptions of each of the chapters
that will follow.

Justification for the Study

There are two primary reasons for studying this particular controversy from
a communication and rhetorical perspective. First, the Enola Gay controversy is a
significant discursive manifestation of nuclear memory in post World War II
America. Americans do remember Hiroshima (and Nagasaki) as one significant
episode in their past, and the controversy powerfully demonstrates that their
memory of the bombing takes a form of discursive struggle or cultural memory.
According to Sturken (1997), cultural memory is a kind of communal (American
in the present context) memory which is shared by many but is never collective or
collected; it is a field of contested meaning shared outside the avenues of formal
historical discourse yet is entangled with cultural products and imbued with cultural
meanings (p. 3). As such, cultural memory offers a discursive opportunity in
which Americans interact with cultural elements to produce the concepts of the
nation. . . where both the structures and the fractures of a culture are exposed
(Sturken, 1997, p. 2-3).
The Enola Gay controversy is a troubling episode of American nuclear
domesticity (Brown, 1988). Namely, it is a debate over how to commemorate or
remember-together (Gallagher, 1995) the atomic bombing. The debate took
place exclusively within the American cultural milieu. As many scholars from
diverse disciplines have observed, placing the atomic bombing in the nations
political cultural discourse has always provoked controversy (Gay & Lemmond,
1987; L. Hein & Seldon, 1997). Henry Kissinger once wrote, history is a memory

of states and it is precisely that history which is controversial. Henriksen (1997)

writes: [T]he [atomic] bombs contested place in American society activated great
discomfort and provided evidence of cultural struggle (p. xiix-xix). For many
Americans, what was at stake in this struggle was not only their history or memory
but also their present and future. On one hand, the atomic bombing was a savior
that ended the Pacific War and saved many of their lives. Had it not been for
Hiroshima, many American military personnel might not have been able to live
through the post war period. Hence, even 35 years after the bombing, Fussell
proclaimed, thank god for the atom bomb (Fussell, 1981).
On the other hand, the symbolic impact of the atomic blast was shocking
even to some Americans. The physical, moral and military impact of the use of
nuclear weapons was so overwhelming that Americans could not but continue to
discuss and talk about its implications and meanings even after 50 years. Current
discourses on the War on Terror and the Iraq War, for instance, would make little
sense without Americas memory of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the one and only
referent for Ground Zero caused by a weapon of mass destruction. As
Goodnight (1986) notes:
The debate over nuclear weapons continues. . . [T]he nuclear issue is so
closely connected with ultimate issues of human survival and its
conventions are so paradoxical that it persists as a kind of subterranean
repository of issues out of which public argument will emerge. (p. 409)
The Enola Gay controversy symbolically demonstrates the discursiveargumentative nature of Americas nuclear memory. It reveals that any public
exhibition regarding the use of the atomic bombs will inevitably be controversial.

What matters in this controversy is not only the physical effects of atomic weapons
or the history of atomic diplomacy, but it also involves a multiplicity of tensions and
issues that are concerned with past memories as well as present and future
survival in the nuclear age. The Smithsonians eventual cancellation of its own
exhibit further evidences the problems of American nuclear domesticity. The
American publics difficulty in discussing and commemorating within its own
culture, its leaders decision to use nuclear weapons against civilian population
makes the issues that emerged in the controversy worth investigating. Because
the Enola Gay controversy uniquely provided such strong discursive tensions over
the use of nuclear weapons, rhetorical and argumentative analysis of this event is
justified.
Second, the Enola Gay controversy is a discourse about a museum exhibit,
and this discussion warrants study from a rhetorical and communication
perspective. Museums in the United States are significant channels of
communication particularly when it comes to history. For many Americans there
is little contact with the past except at the historic sites, monuments, and
museums (Geist, 1978, p. 64). In the words of Richard Kohn (1996), former
President of the Society for Military History, the controversy over the Smithsonian
exhibit and its subsequent cancellation is the one of the worst tragedies to befall
the public presentation of history in the United States (p. 140). From a
communication perspective, one may be tempted to place the blame for the
cancellation of the exhibit solely on the Smithsonian. The Enola Gay controversy

can be viewed as an example of communication breakdown caused by the

museums own inability as a public communicator. The exhibit (manu)script was
not adequately prepared when it was presented for review. The Smithsonian failed
to communicate a full (hi)story to its audience. Many critics rejected the script
because they believed it contained errors and inaccuracies that were beyond
correction. The Smithsonians failure to communicate might also be seen as a
case of poor adaptation. The message crafted by NASM was simply not
kairotic, i.e., a discourse that was unfit and improper to a particular occasion and
time (Carter, 1988; Kinneavy, 1986; Sullivan, 1992). The Smithsonian simply
misanalyzed the exigencies presented by the particular rhetorical situation and
the expectations of particular intended audience (Bitzer, 1968). Instead of securing
their support and understanding of important constituents, therefore, the NASM
curators ended up offending them and arousing dissatisfaction and anger.
On the other hand, rhetorical and argumentative factors alone does not fully
explain the significance of the Enola Gay controversy, what Kohn has called the
one of the worst tragedies in the nations public presentation of history. More than
a decade has past since the cancellation of the Enola Gay exhibit, but the
controversy surrounding it still remains a hot topic for many historians and
museum curators (Boyd, 1999; Crane, 1997a, 1997b; Dubin, 1999; Harris, 1995;
White, 1997; Zolberg, 1996). Many of these professionals remain sympathetic to
what the Smithsonian attempted to accomplish with its exhibit. After the
cancellation of the Enola Gay exhibit, John Coatsworth, President of the

Organization for American Historians (OAH), published a letter in the Wall Street
Journal, in which he lamented the fact that the exhibit had fallen victim to political
pressure and decried the Smithsonians inability to communicate its perspective
on the historical events surrounding the use of the atomic bomb (Coatsworth,
1995). Moreover, the political pressure to cancel the exhibit created a certain
chilling effect. It was reported that many curators are self-censoring for fear of
bring trouble to their doors or losing financial support. Curators around the country
ask themselves: Is a historical exhibit not presentable unless it passes a
congressional litmus test? (Nash et al., 2000, p. 259)
While not all members of the nations museum community endorse each
and every part of the Smithsonians aborted script, manyperhaps mostof them
supported the particular museological approach that the NASM curators
assumed in the development of its Enola Gays presentation ("Controversy
continues," 1995; "Enola Gay update," 1995; A. F. Young, 1994). American
museums

have increasingly

moved to

the forefront

in struggles

over

representation and over the chronicling, revising, and displaying of the past
(Dubin, 1999, p. 5). For them, there is nothing inherently wrong with museum
controversy. It is, in fact, a part of their normal operations.
For historians and museum professionals, the Enola Gay controversy was
not merely a case of a communication breakdown. What made the controversy
tragic was not the NASM curators poorly written script or their failure to adapt it to
exigencies of the time and place. Rather, the tragedy was that political and public

critics challenged the Smithsonians museological approach and communicative

intent.
The tragedy is further magnified by the fact that this controversy took place
over an exhibit at NASM, a museum that belongs to the Smithsonian, the nations
premier and most influential cultural institution. As Young (1994) observed, The
furor over Air and Space is unprecedented and is alarming because the
Smithsonian has often been looked to as a pacesetter by other museums. The
museum horrors. . . raise questions that go to the heart of the enterprise of
historical museums in the United States (p. 6).
Thus, the Enola Gay controversy is a significant social phenomenon that
deserves critical study from the perspective of communication and rhetoric. It
reveals a multiplicity of tensions that were deeply entrenched in late 20th century
American political culture. First, the text of the Enola Gay controversy features
persistent issues within Americas nuclear memory. It is these inherent tensions
within its nuclear domesticity that the Smithsonians planned exhibit provoked.
Moreover, the issues that emerged in the controversy also have to do with
problems of communicative acts performed within a specific institutional context; it
was

a discourse over

a particular museum

exhibit, not a

speech or

cinematography or televisual representation, that attempted to present a history of

the atomic bombing. It is the intertwining of these issues that makes the Enola Gay
controversy an interesting subject for a critical case study. It is a controversy in
which the past, present, and future of American nuclear memory and the role of

10

American museums were problematized; it is a controversy that calls for both

textual-interpretive, as well as institutional, analyses of public communication.

Literature Review
This section reviews earlier studies of the Enola Gay controversy. Because
this is a rhetorical case study, the section will isolate and discuss studies
undertaken and published within the field of communication and rhetoric, i.e.,
Newman, Proisese, Biesecker, Taylor, and Cripps. Specifically, the review
consists of the following two steps. First, it seeks to identify how earlier
communication and rhetorical studies framed or characterized the controversy,
what issues they perceive as significant and worthy of analyses, and what
conclusions or judgments they made about the controversy. Second, this section
exemplifies limitations found in these previous studies. The section then attempts
to identify questions that remain unanswered by previous scholarship and that this
dissertation will attempt to address.
In Truman and the Hiroshima Cult (1995b) and Enola Gay and the Court of
History (2004), Newman characterizes the Enola Gay controversy primarily as a
debate over history. According to his analysis, the controversy was due to the
Smithsonians (mis)representation of history, particularly with regards to Trumans
decision to use the atomic bombs. He criticized the Smithsonian for basing its
historical presentation of the bombing on what he calls the Hiroshima cult, i.e.,
peaceniks and revisionist historians who attempted to question Trumans

11

decision with insufficient historical evidence. Behind Newmans analysis lies his
firm, a priori conviction that historical evidence shows that the decision to drop the
bomb was unequivocally uncontroversial. For him, therefore, the Enola Gay
controversy was a battle that took place in a court of history and, as such, the
cancellation of the exhibit was logical and welcoming.
Proisise (1997, 1998) frames the Enola Gay controversy similarly, namely
as a debate over a single issue. His characterization of the issue, however,
significantly differs from Newmans. According to Proisises analysis, what made
the Smithsonians planned exhibit controversial was not the misrepresentation of
history by the NASM curators. The controversy, rather, was an unfortunate product
of a tension between history and memory in Americas nuclear domesticity. Put
more precisely, Proisese sees historical scholarship on the side of the
Smithsonian, which directly contradicts Newmans assessment. He claims that the
controversy emerged because critics of NASM deliberately misrecognized
veterans collective memory of the bombing as if it were the objective history.
Thus, unlike Newman, he criticizes the cancellation of the exhibit, as an act of
excommunication. The cancellation, in Proisises view, resulted in the exclusion
of many substantive historical considerations of the atomic attacks from public
space (1998, p. 318).
Biesecker (2003) offers a rhetorical analysis of the Enola Gay controversy
similar to Proisese. She regards memory, as he does, as a singularly important
issue to be explored. Her focus, however, is not exactly on the misrecognition of

12

memory as history but on memory as an uncontestable reification of experience

which becomes the bedrock of identity (p. 113). She finds this to be significant
and problematic, for such memory, as a rhetorical discourse, has a certain
irresistible truth effect, blurring the boundaries between fact and fiction, history
and commemoration, and world-disclosing and problem-solving (p. 114). It also
authorizes a certain privileged few to monopolize the past, present, and future,
because it expels any questioning, let alone challenging, of that memory. This is,
according to Biesecker, what exactly happened in the Enola Gay controversy. It is
discourses and voices of a particular reified experience (veterans memory) that
put the Smithsonians exhibit to a halt, and she critiques these discourses by way
of the rhetorical question: Indeed, why? What were conditions of possibility for the
privileging of the Enola Gays pilot and crew? What play of forces set the stage for
this singular authoritative voice to emerge? (p. 113)
For Taylor (1998), what should matter to scholars of communication is not
exactly history or memory in American nuclear domesticity. The primary issue in
the Enola Gay controversy has to do, rather, with problems of visual rhetoric,
more precisely photographic representation, of the atomic bombing in American
culture. In his view, the controversy demonstrates how realism serves as a
medium of conflict between insurgent and counterinsurgent nuclear interests (p.
333). He specifically isolates and analyzes a series of photographs contained in
the Smithsonians planned exhibit and contends that these images constituted a
significant factor that provoked a controversy, for they represented realism of the

13

ruins of Hiroshima, particularly of (nuclear) bodies. He argued that the rhetorical

impact of these visual images was underestimated by the NASM curators.
None of the above, however, is the central focus for Cripps (1998) study.
He finds the central locus of the controversy not in the Smithsonians planned
exhibits discourses over history, memory, or photographic realism, but rather in
representations of these discourses by broadcast journalism. Cripps thus
contends that one significant decisive factor that helped to spur the controversy
and made it unmanageable to the Smithsonian was the visual rhetoric of
television news which is rooted in the immediacy that all photography transmits
and that [t]his very charged immediacy. . . precludes analysis by viewers, by
striving for an affective rather than more cognitive response (p. 78). Cripps
analyzes the coverage of the controversy in major network news programs as well
as (commercial) breaks between clips and segments, and concludes that these
televisual representations oversimplified and profoundly altered the debate. The
issue, for Cripps concern, was problems inherent in the broadcast media that
choose not to report the real issues at stake, and these made the Smithsonian a
victim of the shrunken, indeed atrophied, American span nurtured by the brevity
of television (p. 78).
Needless to say, each of these studies provides some insight into the Enola
Gay controversy. Diverse analytical methods employed in these studies show that
the controversy involved problematics of communication and rhetoric that were
multifaceted. Each scholar contextualized the Enola Gay controversy within a

14

perspective of communication and rhetoric of his or her own choosing and offered
an analysis appropriate to that contextualization. For Newman, the issue at stake
in the controversy was the Smithsonians misrepresentation of the history of the
bombing, whereas, for Proisese, it was a misrecognition of memory as history.
Biesecker concludes that the controversy exposes rhetorical problems of truth
effects caused by memory of some privileged few and their reified experience. But
according to Taylor and Cripps, the problem had more to do with the rhetorical
impacts of visual communication, one regarding nuclear bodies in the script, the
other televisual representations of all the issues in the controversy. Taken
together, they reveal that significant issues emerged in the controversy, and each
author makes critical judgments against the backdrop of communication and
rhetorical scholarship.
On the other hand, these studies do exhibit some weaknesses, which
creates room for this dissertation to join, extend, and critique the previous
scholarly conversation. First, the previous studies failed to ascertain which
communication issues dominated the controversy and dictated the fate of the
Smithsonian, NASM and the Enola Gay. All the studies reviewed above
characterized the Enola Gay controversy as if it were a single issue debate. For
instance, Newman and Cripps did not account for issues other than the ones they
choose (history or televisual rhetoric), and did not attempt to compare and
evaluate the relative importance of their selected issues.

15

In addition, these studies failed to explain the potential intertwining of

multiple issues that emerged in the development of the controversy. The Enola
Gay controversy was not a one-time event. The NASM curators drafted their first
script in early 1994, and that began a controversy that lasted for a year. As critics
of the draft script objections to it and the NASM undertook script revisions; earlier
objections disappeared and new issues emerged. The existing communication and
rhetorical scholarship does not address these interactive elements, because it did
not put the Enola Gay controversy as constantly changing conflict that evolved
over time.
Finally, and perhaps most important, the current communication and
rhetorical scholarship has not taken into account the museum horrors in the
Enola Gay controversy, i.e., the problems of communication that go to the heart of
the American museum enterprise. Virtually absent in previous studies is any
consideration of the context of a particular museum exhibition. Nowhere in
Newmans analysis, for instance, does he make a distinction between the NASM
curators historical representation of Trumans decision to use the atomic bomb
and a history written by a revisionist historian. Proisese is honest about this
absence. While his own reading of the controversy does not exactly focus on the
institutional role of museums, one implication he does draw at the end of his article
is that the role of museums, as sites of cultural memory, should have been given
greater consideration (2003, p. 342). And because Cripps focuses almost

16

exclusively on the televisual representation, the institutional context of the

controversy is not well considered in his analysis.
To Taylors credit, his study on photographic realism does recognize the
context of museum controversy, because it analyzes visual and photographic
representation in the exhibit. Unfortunately, it does not fully take into account the
significance of this particular context, for the Enola Gay controversy was a
contestation over a particular museum exhibit that was never made realized. What
Taylor analyzed is not exactly the photographic representations used in the actual
exhibit but, rather, representations of the representations, i.e., the photocopy in
the exhibit script. Taking these representations of representations outside the
exhibit space as if they were displayed in the museum does not do justice to the
specific context of occurrence. Bieseckers rhetorical critique does fail to take into
account the institutional context, which, however, is exactly her point. She chose
to ignore this context of occurrence for the sake of her own conjunctural analysis,
a critical interpretive strategy that reads the text not against the backdrop of its
occurrence but, instead, as part and parcel of that dispersed but structured field of
practice (2003, p. 113).

Research Questions
Research Question 1: What were the issues that dominated the Enola Gay
controversy?
The review of the previous studies revealed that communication and
rhetorical scholarship has not yet dealt with a set of problems that are most

17

fundamental: What was the Enola Gay controversy all about? What specific issue
or issues in the controversy led to NASMs cancellation of the exhibition? While
some attempts have been made by historians and museum scholars to explicate
issues from the perspectives of museum studies (White, 1997; Zolberg, 1996),
analysis of problems that are related to communicative practices have yet to be
examined and evaluated. Bieseckers conjuctural analysis has merit because the
Enola Gay controversy is not merely a problem of one museum exhibition.
However, neither her study nor any other rhetorical or communication scholarship
has ever fully explored the Enola Gay controversy within what she calls the
backdrop of its occurrence, namely, as a problem of situated communicative
practice.
Issues that emerged during the Enola Gay controversy necessarily have to
do

with

problems

regarding

the

Smithsonians

particular

practice

of

communication, i.e., placing the bombing as part of its exhibit discourse. In order
to answer the first research question, the issues that emerged as the Smithsonian
attempted to place the Enola Gay in its discursive space will be identified,
analyzed and evaluated.
Research Question 2: What does the Enola Gay controversy tell us about
potential problems involved in using museums as forums approach?
In posing this second question, I wish to put a particular analytical focus on
the controversys particular institutional context of occurrence. Placing the atomic
bomb in American society has always provoked discomfort and cultural struggle.
Since the controversy provoked as the Smithsonian attempted to place the Enola

18

Gay in its museum exhibit, issues that emerged in the controversy should
necessarily have to do with problems of a specific location, where/whether to place
history of the bombing in America.
The Enola Gay controversy was not just another museum controversy. In
the first place, NASM is not just another science and technology museum. It is one
of the Smithsonian museums, the nations premier cultural institution. Even more
important, as the one and only national museum devoted to the history of
Americas aviation and space technology, NASM has a specially assigned
communicative mission. That mission is, by law, to memorialize the national
development of aviation [and space flight]; collect, preserve, and display
aeronautical [and space flight] equipment of historical interest and significance
("National Air and Space Museum Act," 1946). This dissertation will explore how
NASMs institutional context and assigned mission became an issue and concerns
about place and mission can affect other museums choices of exhibits and
approaches to exhibition.
Research Question 3: Are there ways in which future controversies such as
that which surrounded the Enola Gay exhibit could be avoided or mitigated?
Finally, this study attempts to inquire into general problems of museum
controversy, using the Enola Gay controversy as a paradigm case. Controversy is
no stranger to students of rhetoric and public communication. The idea of
controversy is one of the most important virtues in Greco-Roman rhetoric. We
continue to teach and study controversy because it is intrinsically significant and
positive (Conly, 1985). Participants in a controversy, through critical exchange,

19

seek to establish (or challenge the already established) social conventions,

precedents and norms (Mitchell, 2000). Controversy is a significant instance of a
communitys engagement in matters of public concern, and is essential to
sustaining democratic ideals in a pluralistic society such as the United States
(Goodnight, 1992; Olson & Goodnight, 1994). Moreover, controversy is no
stranger to the nations museum community. American museums are now premier
sites of cultural struggle. They have now become forums, a center for critical
discourse (Cameron, 1971/2004; Weil, 1995, 2004); debate, contestation, and
controversies, therefore, are normal practices of public communication at many
museums throughout the country.
In seeking to answer this final question, I will attempt to discover what
lessons can be learned from the Enola Gay controversy, particularly with regard to
problems of communicating controversy through museum exhibition. While the
museum horrors that the Smithsonian experienced with The Crossroads may not
be wholly unavoidable, there may exist some ways in which museums could
mitigate unnecessary troubles when they are launching controversial exhibits in
the future. Addressing this problematic necessitates a combination of institutional
and issue analysis. Tracing the institutional metamorphosis of American
museums in conjunction with the analysis of issues that emerged in the Enola Gay
controversy, will, hopefully, provide some insight into the future of museum
controversies in the United States.

20

Method and Text

Method
This dissertation is a case study of controversy. It also highlights a
particular context of its occurrence in its analysis. To this end, its method for
analysis consists of the following two steps: an analysis of museums as institutions
of public communication and a textual analysis of the actual controversy.
In the first place, the study seeks to trace the historical development of
museums in the United States. Drawing on the literature of museum studies or
museology, the particular institutional context in which the Enola Gay controversy
emerged will be examined. One part of this examination will look at the museums
functions as agencies of communication, with specific references to museum
professionals

and

curators

self-understanding

of

their

roles

as

public

communicators. Another emphasis in this institutional analysis is on particular

American characteristics of museums in the United States which significantly
differ from those of their European origins, given that the Enola Gay controversy is
a provocative instance of nuclear domesticity that took place in the American
context. This recreation of the context also includes a specific backdrop of
occurrence of the Enola Gay controversy, i.e., characteristics of the Smithsonians
NASM as a speaker of public communication. This contextualization of the actual
controversy where it originated is helpful in identifying and illuminating the issues
for critical analysis.

21

A major portion of this study will be devoted to an analysis of the issues

developed during the Enola Gay controversy. Regarding the method for this step,
this study draws on descriptive as well as critical cultural analysis of discourse.
The study first engages in description of issues that emerged in the Enola Gay
controversy, by identifying discourses of pros and cons regarding the NASMs
planned exhibit, and moves onto discuss how these issues were developed,
extended, or subsided as the Smithsonian continued to refine the script. The study
then critically interprets and evaluates these issues.
The study methodically follows a traditional analysis of public controversy
undertaken by rhetorical and communication scholars (Foss, 1979; Lyne & Howe,
1986; Olson, 1989; Olson & Goodnight, 1994; Oravec, 1984; Zaeske, 1995). More
specifically, it seeks to (1) describe the rationale behind the Smithsonians exhibit
as well as issues raised against the Smithsonian, (2) discuss how the Smithsonian
and their critics attempted to resolved (chose not to resolve) these issues, and (3)
identify which issues were persistent and dominant and eventually put the
Smithsonian exhibit to a halt.
One operation that will become particularly important for this study,
however, is an explication of the who of the social discourses. This type of
analysis is crucial to an examination of discourses over national commemoration
such as this debate. Participants in these discourses are what Spillman (1997)
calls culture producing groups who are likely to have vested interest in the
national culture. For such groups, commemorative discourses provide them with

22

important opportunities for producing and contesting the national culture. The
Enola Gay controversy is a provocative aspect of American nuclear domesticity
that concerned the nations premier cultural institution. Given this particular context
of occurrence, analysis of issues should account for the broader discursive field
within which the symbols were organized and became meaningful as national
symbols (Spillman, 1997, p. 7, emphasis in original).
Thus this study will aim to analyze the critical discourses or issues raised
against the Smithsonian by the following culture producing groups. First group
consists of historians, particularly those who are or were in military service. These
include members of the Smithsonian-appointed Special Advisory Board as well as
the Tiger Team, a committee of former military service historians who conducted
an independent review of NASMs draft of the exhibit script. This culture producing
group also includes historians who were in the active military service at that time
and who participated in the script revision as part of the World War II
Commemoration Committee established by the United States Congress.
Military veterans and their organizations comprise the second group of
participants. While they did not play an official role in the Smithsonians script
development and exhibit preparation, at least initially, these individuals and groups
exercised tremendous influence on the direction of the Enola Gay controversy.
Another important military group who participated in the controversy is the Air
Force Association (AFA). The AFA is an organization that represents the United
States military Air Force and others in the formation of the nations politico-

23

economic-culture. The AFA played an important role in making the Enola Gay
controversy public by orchestrating and organizing the media campaigns against
the Smithsonian.
The final group of participants in the Enola Gay controversy are those who
claim to represent voices of mainstream America in the political public sphere.
These included members

of the United States

Congressional majority

(Republicans) as well as others who shared the same American values with the
Congressional majority and represent such values in mass media, particularly in
print journalism.

Text
While a significant portion of this case study involves analysis of issues that
appeared in rhetorical discourse, unfortunately there is no self-contained text of
the Enola Gay controversy ready for analysis. In addition, there is no specific,
representative, and tangible memory texts available in such forms as
cinematography, photography, and memorials as they often are in other studies of
cultural memory (Biesecker, 2002; Foss, 1986; Hariman & Lucaites, 2002;
Sturken, 1997; Wagner-Pacifici & Schwartz, 1991). On the other hand, the
controversy, as a textual trajectory, continues with its strong rhetorical presence.
Ruins, remains, and spoils of the controversy still exist in a variety of discursive
forms, albeit scattered out and fragmentary. The Enola Gay controversy is an
event that took place when the National Air and Space Museum initiated exhibit

24

preparation in 1987 and ended when the Smithsonian announced the exhibits
cancellation in early 1995. To trace the trajectory of the controversy, this study
utilized the following primary materials that were published or circulated during this
particular period.
In the first place, this study locates the trajectory of the controversy in
documents pertaining to direct communication within and among the Smithsonian
staff and its critics. Materials pertaining to this process include the exhibit scripts,
an external review report, internal memos and personal memoirs of the
Smithsonian personnel; and letters of correspondence between the Smithsonian,
historians, veteran groups and congressional representatives. These documents
were circulated in the public domain either by themselves or through third parties.
The Air Force Association, for instance, compiled these documents and made its
massive collection widely accessible on their web site; they are also available as
bounded copies, free of charge ("Enola Gay coverage 1995," 1995; "Enola Gay
documents part II," 2000; "Enola Gay documents part III," 2002; "Enola Gay
documents," 1996). I also obtained

other relevant documents

from the

Smithsonian Institution Archives by traveling to Washington, D.C. in December

2004.
Because many issues were raised in the print media (Capaccio & Mohan,
1995), the textual trajectory of the Enola Gay controversy also required
examination of media discourses. Particularly relevant were letters to the editor
sections in newspapers; many of these letters by veterans contained strong voices

25

of opposition to the Smithsonian. Other relevant discursive fragments were found

in editorials written by political commentators and syndicated columnists who
purported to represent the voice of (mainstream) America. From June 1994 to
February 1995, national (e.g., the Washington Post, the New York Times, the
Wall Street Journal) as well as numerous regional newspapers (e.g., the
Cleveland Plain Dealer, the Pittsburgh Gazette) and other periodicals (e.g., Time,
U.S. News & World Report) published letters and editorials regarding NASMs
Enola Gay exhibit. In particular, the Washington Post printed many of these critical
reactions to the Smithsonian and this dissertation extensively draws upon the Post
for the analysis of the textual trajectory. First, as a Washington newspaper, the
Post was the most sensitive and the most influential to the development of the
controversy over the exhibit planned at the museum located on the Washington
Mall. Second, while many other newspapers did print similar critical discourses to
the Smithsonian, it is the Post that printed the very first critical editorial of such
kind (Meyer, 1994) that turned a museum controversy into a nationwide political
scandal (Capaccio & Mohan, 1995).
Other remains of the controversy can also be found in the text of the
Congressional resolutions and hearings. These are public documents which are
readily available. In particular, a 1994 Senate resolution ("S. Res. 207," 1994)
features strong statement by influential Congressional representatives opposing
the Smithsonians planned exhibit. Finally, press releases by Congressional

26

representatives and veterans groups also provided primary documents for

analysis.

Chapter Organization
In closing this chapter, notes about the structure of this dissertation are in
order. Following this Introduction, Chapter 2 demonstrates that American
museums now operate under the metaphor of forum, a place where controversy
and debate take place. The chapter traces the institutional metamorphosis of
museums and examines the museum communitys rationale fro embracing the
forum approach to exhibiting. The discussion in this chapter offers a necessary
context for the analysis of the Enola Gay controversy.
Chapter 3 begins with discussion on the unique mission that NASM is
assigned to perform. It identifies the museums historical role as that of national
epideictic whose stated purpose has always been to glorify the genius and
achievement of Americas air and space industry and heroes. The chapter then
moves to explicate how that unique rhetorical mission has created a long and
troubling relation with the Enola Gay. Toward the end, the chapter also outlines
the script for the Smithsonians controversial exhibit and discusses a specific
institutional

context

that encouraged

the

Smithsonian

to

engage such

museological attempt.
Chapter 4 offers an issue analysis of the Enola Gay controversy against the
backdrop of the context recreated in the previous chapters. Reclaiming and tracing

27

the rhetorical trajectory of the controversy, the chapter first discusses the
Smithsonians rationale for the exhibit, and proceeds to identify and discuss critical
reactions to it by various groups and individual who had high stakes in the Enola
Gay and its mission. This chapter also analyzes how the Smithsonian dealt with
these issues, which ultimately determined the outcome of the Enola Gay
controversy.
Finally, Chapter 5 concludes this dissertation by answering the research
questions. It also discusses some limitations of the study and some implications
for further research.

28

CHAPTER 2
FROM CABINETS OF CURIOSITIES TO POLITICAL FORUMS: THE
METAMORPHOSIS OF AMERICAN PUBLIC MUSEUMS

The purpose of this chapter is to trace the institutional metamorphosis of

American

museums

with

special attention

to

their

role

as

agents

of

communication. As cultural institutions, the primary role of museums had long

been acquisition, collection, preservation, and display of historic artifacts; cabinets
of curiosities used to be the metaphor that best described their function. Given
the current state of American museums, however, that metaphor is no longer
appropriate. Because communication does not take place in a vacuum but occurs
in a specific discursive space, an understanding of this metamorphosis is
necessary for an investigation of the Enola Gay controversy. Subsequent chapters
will demonstrate how this changing character of museums made the controversy
so contentious and complex.

Public Museums as an American Invention

A history of modern museums is that of public museums (Bennett, 1995;
Bourdieu & Darbel, 1991), and this is particularly true in the United States. While
the idea of modern museums originated in Europe, the notion of the public was
secondary to their formation and self-understanding. Conventional history has it
that the worlds first public museum was born in post revolutionary Paris at the end

29

of the 18th century when the former palace of the king was renovated and became
the Louvre (Museum National: Monument Consacre a lAmr et a lEtude des Arts).
Yet, precursors existed in the private sphere to serve the aristocracy. They were
places where the rich and Royal showed off their wealth by displaying private
collections

of paintings, sculptures, jewelries,

and

other

valuables

and

collectables. They existed solely for private reasons and interests, i.e., ones selfenjoyment, self-satisfaction and power. Nichlin (1972) has observed the ultimate
transfer of these properties from the hands of aristocratic rulers to the public faced
strong resistance and generated enormous controversies.
The development of American museums took a different path. They were
established in a world devoid of hereditary kings and queensa world that was
both more open and more public in its traditions and values. Their beginning
coincided with the dawn of modern America, and their origin was distinct from that
of their European counterparts. This distinctly American in origin has dictated their
successive formation and self-understanding.
These new museums in a brave new world were fundamentally public
institutions. The mid-19th century saw the blooming of museums in the United
States, a time when private charitable gift giving, testifying to the spirit of
individual initiative, play[ed] a large part in the countrys growth (Hein, 2000, p. 6).
The development of museums was a significant part of the process of building a
strong and cohesive national community. While American museums relied on
donations and gifts from wealthy individuals as their primary source of income,

30

they were not privately owned. With the exception of many art galleries that
were, and still remain, private (Fry, 1972), most of these museums were, at
conception, incorporated along with hospitals, churches, and various educational
and service agencies as nonprofit organizations (Hein, 2000, p. 6). Thus, these
institutions were strongly committed to an American idea of public virtue:
charitable giving for the common good (Bellah et al., 1996). Their raisen detre
was, and remains, social utility, the purpose of which is to serve the American
public.
From

their

very

inception,

museums

in

America

have

viewed

educationnot aristocratic displayas their fundamental goal. While the scope of

their programs and their approaches to education have evolved over the centuries,
museums in the United States have characteristically embraced four uniquely
American concepts. It is because of their adherence to these concepts that
American museums have made such an important contribution to their publics and
to community building.
First, American museums are instruments of public enlightenment that
provide equal access to education. Unlike their European counterparts that
perpetuate social stratification, privilege, and cultural monopoly (Bourdieu &
Darbel, 1991; Hooper-Greenhill, 1994), American museums are democratic and
popular in principle. Like libraries, notes Katz (1982), museums [in the United
States] are fundamentally educational institutions with a responsibility to make
their collections availableand meaningfulto the largest possible audience, and

31

to serve as valuable educational reservoir to their communities (p. 11). The idea
of an American museum is that of an open space where class distinctions become
largely irrelevant. It was in [these] newly established museums of revolutionary
America that the doors were fully opened to the general public (Roberts, 1997, p.
4).
Second, educational experience in American museums is pragmatic. The
idea behind this is that enlightenment leads to both personal cultivation and
communal growth. Specialization of museums accelerated in the United States
during the late 19th century as it did in Europe. The oldest form of museums were
arts museums whose purpose was to provide the public with an opportunity to
experience beauty ("Museums and their characteristics," 1990). Later, museums
of history and science became centers for serious academic endeavors in areas
such as anthropology, archeology, biology, botany, and entomology. However, the
purpose of American museums, unlike their European counterparts, was not
merely to engage in esoteric research and display exotic artifacts in cabinets of
curiosities. The purpose and the only purpose of museums [in America] is
education in all its varied aspects from the most scholarly research to the simple
arousing of curiosity. That education, however, must be active, not passive, and it
must always be intimately connected with the life of the people (Low, 1942, p. 21).
American museums rest on the idea that research and learning should be usable
and practical; producing and exhibiting knowledge for knowledges sake is not
what they aim at. Ideas are worthless except as they pass into actions which

32

rearrange and reconstruct in some way, be it little or large, the world in which we
live (Dewey, 1929, p.104; also see Schieffler, 1966). This idea of a practical
educational experience is a second distinctive characteristic of American
museums.
Third, American museums are not intended to be all-inclusive, stand-alone
public institutions; they are committed to the total cause of education (Low, 1942,
p. 26). Although tremendously rich in resources, American museums recognize
that the academic opportunities they provide mean little unless they are connected
to other academic institutions. In the United States, primary and secondary
education that benefited the most from the educational resources that museums
offer; schoolchildren, for example, have been their most frequent visitors and
preferred customers.
During the 1920s, the first staff instructors were appointed at American
museums, and a new academic profession devoted to studies of, and education
in, museums emerged. American universities and colleges became the first in the
world to offer majors and programs specializing in museum education, and
scholarly associations for museum professionals were soon inaugurated (Nichols,
1984; Patterns in practice, 1992). In the 1960s when the G.I. Bill made higher
education affordable to larger segments of the American population, museums
began to welcome more college and university students (Solinger, 1990). In recent
years, American museums sought to reach out more broadly to the adult

33

community and have led the way in the development of special programs and
exhibits directed to their special needs and interests.
Finally, American museums have contributed to the total cause of education
at a most fundamental and philosophical level through the constitution of a
community and collective identity. Communities are constituted by their past. . .
and for this reason we can speak of a real community as a community of
memory, one that does not forget its past (Bellah, Madsen, Sullivan, Swindler &
Tipton, 1996, p. 153; also see Wood & Foster, 1997). The American public
chronically suffers from a lack of common memory and hence, of common
community. The existence of a community cannot be assumed a priori in the
United States. The American public has been composed fundamentally of
settlers; the first generation of immigrants, for example, were devoid of a memory
of a common past. Moreover, the American idea of individual liberty and the
pursuit of happiness rests on the dissolution of the common bonds and feudal
solidarities that existed in Europe. As this founding idea was translated into an
ideology of individualism, constituents in the American public were further torn
apart from each other (Levine, 2004).
As public institutions committed to the total cause of education, museums in
the United States have sought to aid in the development of new communities of
American memory: Many U.S. history museums and historic sites developed from
the bottom up, as a result of community initiative that sought ways to memorialize
a communitys history and celebrate its traditions and achievements (Kotler &

34

Kotler, 1998, p. 14). In addition to offering aesthetic experiences and scientific

knowledge, American museums have become places where the public can
engage in gathering and accumulating bits and pieces of their experiences and
creating a common past. They are what Nora calls sites of memory (Nora, 1989)
in the brave new world. By telling themselves to remember what they (want
to/should) take to be their communal, national past, people acquire a sense of
national identity, a sense of themselves as tied to the national society as a whole
(Schudson, 1992, p. 66). By passing this common past on to successive
generations, American museums help communities maintain a sense of history
and continuity from which stable collective identities are derived (Giddens, 1991;
Schelly-Newman, 1997; Schudson, 1992). In so doing, they also work as a
counterbalance to the ideology of individualism. As Perin (1992) has observed:
People living in a society that compartmentalizes and institutionalizes lived
experiencedividing it into work, family, politics, and religion, for
exampledepend on cultural institutions for their opportunities to achieve
coherence, growth, and an evolving sense of identity. Museums are
singularly important stimuli for human synthesis. (p. 216)
Communicating with the Public
As noted earlier, the mission to serve the public has always already been
central to the development of American museums. Unlike their European
counterparts, American museums have to take the presence of the public
seriously. Given that education is their raisen detre, American public museums
are destined to face a peculiar challenge: Museums must communicate or die
(Hooper-Greenhill, 1994, p. 34). Indeed, for museums in the United States,

35

communicating and building relationships with the public is the heart of their
professional practices (Kotler & Kotler, 1998). Museums assume a role similar to
that of a teacher, and to fulfill that function, they must recognize that
communicating with their audiences is at least as important as collecting and
preserving artifacts. As museums become more focused on communication. . . ,
[museum professionals] are asked to be public communicators as well as research
scholars (Franco, 1981, p. 157).
Because

most

public

communication

today

is

mass-mediated,

contemporary museums are sometimes thought of as a branch of mass media.

Yet, the functions of museums are distinct from those of the conventional media,
thus requiring a special kind of understanding of the process of communication
(Hodge & D'Souza, 1979, p. 146). In the first place, public museums do not
communicate with a mass audience. The members of a mass media audience
are generally conceived of as being essentially identical. Differences within are
considered to be insignificant. This enables the media to treat their audiences in a
singularly fashion, namely as mass. However, curators of todays public
museums are generally aware of the fact that the American public consists of
many communities. Thus museum goers are diverse; they cannot be reduced to a
single entity and conceived as a mass. As Lavine (1992) notes, it is patently false,
and certainly patronizing, to assume a unitary public (p. 139).
Moreover, the idea of mass communication is fundamentally one-way,
namely, a single source transmitting to many. American museums have, on the

36

other hand, increasingly sought to involve their patrons more actively in the
exhibits. Museum audience are encouraged to be less passive listeners and
consumers of knowledge. As Weil (1995) observes, a simple transmission model
does not replicate what takes place in exhibit spaces; it simply does not apply.
Thank to innovations in presentational technology and hands-on exhibits, for
instance, museum spaces have become more interactive (Anderson, 1999).
Further, museum visitors are hardly blank slates or tabula rasa (Graham Jr.,
1995). Contemporary museum goers are equipped with diverse prior knowledge,
semantic

systems,

expectations,

and

interpretive

frames;

accordingly,

communication in museums becomes inherently conversational and multivocal.

Silently or vocally, communication takes place as the visitor responds to a
combination of pictures, demonstrations, exhibits, and labels. . . [A] museum
seeks to share its understanding with the visitor through personal interaction
(Weinland & Bennett, 1984, p. 39).
Given these complexities of their communicative relations with the public,
American museums have moved away from the simple mass media model.
Recent literature reveals that museums have adopted a different language for their
self-understanding and are most frequently referred to as forums (H. S. Hein,
2000; Roberts, 1997; Weil, 1995; White, 1997). The origin of this idea dates back
to 1971, when Duncan Cameron, then Director of the Brooklyn Museum, first
introduced this metaphor with its companion, museums as temples, in his
University of Colorado Museum Lecture (1971/2004). Simply put, these metaphors

37

denote two competing functionalities of communication that museums may

perform: product or process. The product view corresponds to the notion of a
museum as a temple, a place where Truth is enshrined and found. If the
museum said that this or that was so, then that was a statement of truth
(Cameron, 1971/2004, p. 66).
The notion of forum, on the other hand, accentuates the process-like
nature of the museum experience. It is a materialization of equal access to
education and other cultural opportunities: a sphere of public communication
where meanings are made, values are tested, identities are (re)created, and
battles are fought. As Cameron (1971/2004) has argued,
[T]here is a real and urgent need for the reestablishment of the forum as an
institution in society. While our bona fide museums seek to become
relevant, maintaining their role as temples, there must be concurrent
creation of forums for confrontation, experimentation, and debate. (p. 68)
Cameron has acknowledged that, in general, society needs both temples and
forums, although he obviously opted for the latter.
When Cameron first introduced the idea of museums as forums in the early
1970s, museums in the United States were in an identity crisis. At that time, no
one knew what museums were or where they should to go, and very few
considered his metaphor to be a description of what was actually taking place in
museum spaces. What he attempted by the metaphor was not a description but a
radical reconceptualization of American museums, a kind of psychotherapy
(Cameron, 1971/2004, p. 61).

38

Now in a new millennium, Camerons vision of American museums as

places where conversation, discussion and debate take place has come to be
accepted by more and more American museums. Literature documenting this
metamorphosis abounds. Kamien (1998), for instance, has described the publics
reaction to her exhibit on AIDS (Ending: An Exhibit about Death and Loss) at the
Boston Children Museum as an explosion. Ogline (2004) has reported on the
Liberty Bell controversy, a verbal confrontation that took place at the
Independence National Historical Parks exhibition pavilion and testified to the
significance of interpretive talks at the site. Allen (1996) has reported on another
controversy that took place at the Museum of the Confederacy in Virginia, when
Robin Reed, its ex-Director, attempted to encourage a more inclusive, civil
discussion of the uncivil aspects of the war at the museum long considered to be
a shrine for Confederate die-hards. To provide visitors with food for thought, the
Museum of Science in Boston has a theatrical exhibit titled The Spotted Owl
Caf, in which two actors play characters who take opposing views over issues of
environmental protection and, as Hughes (1998) notes, the caf generates a wide
variety of visitor experiences, talks, and reactions. And Juanita Moore, the Director
of the National Civil Rights Museum, has provided her first-hand account of
visitors behaviors on the exhibition floors. She reports, Most groups are speaking
out for themselves, in some way or another, so you have many people who are
actively watching to make sure that they are being included (Honey & Moore,
1995, p. 75)

39

These are hardly isolated cases. Dubin (1999) has analyzed a variety of
museum exhibits that generated controversies, from the Metropolitan Museum of
Arts to the Brooklyn Museum of Sensation, and concludes: Museums have
become places where conflicts over some of the most vital issues regarding
national character and group identity. . . regularly break out (p. 245). Boyd (1999)
contends that museum controversies and conflicts do not simply happen; they
have become integral part of exhibitions at most American museums. Luke (2002)
also argues that, from a socio-political perspective, most museum exhibitions are
inherently provocations of critical exchange, for they are brimming with
unresolved cultural contradiction and social conflicts (p. 230). According to
McConnells (1998) extensive review of past issues of Museum News, there is an
evident and tremendous increase in controversies and debates over museum
exhibits. Five of the controversies that he refers to have occurred at the
Smithsonian including the one on NASMs Enola Gay.
Thirty years have passed since Camerons initial use of the forum and
temple, metaphors, and the forum concept seems to have become increasingly
more appropriate. American museums are now full of critical discourse. From
Bostons Museum of Arts to the Allen County-Fort Wayne Historical Society
Museum to Winston-Salems Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art to
Alaskas Pratt Museum to the Phoenix Art Museum to the California Academy of
Sciences, contentions and contestations are found nationwide. Public museums
have become more vocal than ever in the past thirty years, and controversies have

40

become a routine part of the professional life of museum staff. Thus Hall (1998)
has assured the museum community that [Y]our mission to educate the public
through your exhibits will not go away, nor will the potential for controversies (p.
4).
The idea of forum is not simply a descriptive metaphor that fits; it has
normative implications for the current formation of public museums in the United
States. Museums curators throughout the nation now embrace the notion of forum
as a guiding principle for their communicative practices of exhibition. Henderson
and Kaeppler (1997) thus note that the cabinets of curiosities are being replaced
by interpretations about the origins, meaning, and value of objects. . . Yesterdays
cabinets of curiosities are living, breathing founts of ideas (p. 1). Controversy and
confrontation are hardly accidental or unexpected in many of American museums;
they are rather staged by curators. Curators believe that controversy provides
visitors with stimuli for human synthesis, and that this is an important contribution
that museums can make to the total cause of education. Through controversy
museum visitors have opportunities to achieve coherence, growth, and an evolving
sense of communal identity. American museums today are institutional sponsors
of discussions and debates on social issues (Gaither, 1992). Hein (2000) observes
that many museums now proudly accept amplified educational mandate to
stimulate and encourage inquiry (Hein, 2000, p. 6). Particularly when it comes to
history, the crucial lesson that museums offer to their visitors is that no version of

41

the past is neutral or objective. . . [T]he ameliorative task of the history museum. . .
is to teach interpretive skepticism (Gable & Handler, 1994, p. 120).
It is important to note, however, that the idea of forum does not make
conventional exhibits obsolete. Visitors critical discourse does not replace
artifacts, interpretive labels, and displays. For instance, it is not the function of
history museums to remain completely silent and let visitors debate history
throughout their exhibit spaces; this is not what the idea of forum stipulates. It
rather

suggests

that museums

should

not privilege

their

status

when

communicating. Forums just mean that everyone is equally authorized to speak in

museum spaces. As opposed to museums as temples, museums as forums
recognize that stories they tell visitors are no truer than visitors stories. Museum
stories are simply their own versions of the story. As Weil (1995) states:
The solution. . . is not to stop telling stories but to recognize them for what
they are: a version, our version, but by no means the only version nor
necessarily a wholly true version. . . Simple statements may be true or
false, but something as complex as a story can never be, in that traditional
legal formulation, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. . . . As
museum workers, we are not merely passive reflectors of the worldsimple
recorders of its seven wondersbut active participants in the creation of its
meaning, shapers of reality. (p. 17)
Chapter Summary
Tracing institutional metamorphosis in the American museum community,
this chapter demonstrated that the idea of communication that guides discursive
practices of exhibition has changed. Museum professionals now have embraced
the metaphor of forum for their self-understanding and ways in which they

42

communicate with their publics. Controversies are not accidents in museum

spaces; they constitute necessary part of the whole educational experience
museum exhibits can offer. The chapter also revealed that museums commitment
public enlightenment remains largely unchanged. As cultural institutions with
distinct public missions, the rationale behind this metamorphosis is the museum
communitys firm commitment, i.e., contribution to the nations total cause of
education.

43

CHAPTER 3
LOCATING THE ENOLA GAY CONTROVERSY: ITS TIME AND PLACE

The previous chapter provided an institutional background to the emerging

Enola Gay controversy. It described the changes that have occurred within the
museum community and how those changes have redefined and refocused the
role of museums in American culture. By the middle of the 20th century the
educational role of most public museums had broadened well beyond the
cabinets of curiosities, and the role of museums as public forums was broadly
accepted.
This chapter will examine more narrowly the unique roles of the National Air
and Space Museum (NASM), one of the newest affiliated unit of the Smithsonian
museums. It will also discuss the unclear place of the Enola Gay in American
history and the tension it created regarding NASMs epideictic mission and its
educational goal as the Museum of the American Century. Finally, it will describe
the script that the Smithsonian prepared for its exhibit commemorating the 50th
anniversary of the end of World War II and the proposed role of the Enola Gay in
that exhibit, with a brief discussion of the particular historical context in which such
an exhibit had emerged within the Smithsonian.

44

The Smithsonian and its National Air and Space Museum

The Origin
In the mid-1840s the United States government received a half million
dollar bequest from James Smithson. The recently deceased Smithson was an
English scientist who had never visited the United States nor had any known
personal or professional associations with it. The reason for his gift remains a
mystery. After debating what to do with thiswhat was at the timevery large
bequest, Congress eventually authorized the establishment of a center for
scientific investigation with its affiliated museums. In 1853 a site in Washington,
D.C. was assigned to the new Smithsonian Institution, and Joseph Henry was
named as its founding Secretary. The Smithsonian was never the property of the
State and has, from its inception, been, by law, a public institution independent of
the U.S. federal government. Leonard Carmichael, the Smithsonian Secretary
from 1953-63, explained that the [Smithsonian] Institution is by no means
exclusively concerned with museum displays (quoted in Conaway, 1995, p. 276).
All of these make the Smithsonian and its museums a premier and typically
American cultural institution in the United States.
The National Air and Space Museum is a relatively late comer to the
Smithsonians Washington, D.C. museum complex in Washington, D.C. NASM
was officially authorized in 1946, by 77a of Title 20 U.S.C., otherwise known as
the National Air and Space Museum Act ("National Air and Space Museum Act,"

45

1946); however, the appropriation of the funds to carry out the actual construction
of the museum had to wait for another twenty five years (Roland, 1993;
Smithsonian general background, 1970). Nevertheless, the Smithsonians relation
to aviation and, by extension, space flight has been long and passionate and
preceded the actual authorization and construction of NASM (Chaikin, 1997; 2002
official guide, 2002). In fact, the origins of an air and space museum date back to
the late 19th century, 1887 to be more exact, when the Smithsonian welcomed
Samuel Langley as its new Secretary. Langley had always been interested in
aeronautics. A proto-type aviator, he was the designer of Aerodrome, an aircraft
with which he twice made successful unmanned flight. During his tenure at the
Smithsonian, the Institute initiated a succession of manned flight attempts with his
Great Aerodrome. Albeit unsuccessful, these attempts postdated the Wright
brothers.
During this period the Smithsonians aviation collection was begun with the
receipt of a donation of 20 beautiful Chinese kites, a donation it received from the
Chinese Imperial Commission. From that time on, the Smithsonian aggressively
sought to collect more aircraft and other artifacts of historical significance, in the
hope for ultimately building a museum devoted exclusively to history of aviation
and aeronautic technology. Funding had, however, always been a major problem.
While artifacts and aircraft themselves were either donated or loaned at minimum
cost, the problem of accommodation and maintenance posed difficulty (Hotz,
1979). Some remained in the Tin Shed, an old military communication building,

46

while others were at the Art and Industry Building, popularly known as the
Smithsonian Castle. It did not take long for the Smithsonian, to realize that these
spaces were too small to house such a collection.
Nevertheless, the problem of funding and accommodation did not prevent
the Smithsonians already massive collection from growing. By the mid 20th
century, historic aircraft such as Charles Lindberghs Spirit of St. Louis and the
Wright brothers Kitty Hawk Flyer became part of the Smithsonian collection. With
the onset of the age of air travel, the Smithsonian also started to receive donations
of civil and commercial aircraft, including the Douglas DC-7, the worlds first
commercially viable airplane. After the two World Wars, a large influx of military
aircraft came to the Smithsonian, including the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress
bomber, Grummans F4F Wildcat fighter, and Douglass Slowly but Deadly
dauntless bomber. Military donation also included such spoils of war as Germanys
V-2 rocket and Japans Zero Fighter. With the advent of supersonic and space
flight, high-tech gadgets such as the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter, and the
Mercury and the Apollo space capsules joined its collection.
The National Air and Space Museum was officially opened on July 4, 1976
as part of the nations Bicentennial celebration. Its a bird, its a plane, its
Supermuseum! Its the National Air and Space Museum (Huxtable, 1976, p. 22).
Located conveniently between Independence Avenue and the Washington Mall,
NASM has become the citys and the nations premier tourist attraction. The core
of the Museum is its collections: nearly 30,000 aviation artifacts and 9,000 space

47

aircrafts, including more than 350 aircraft and scores of rockets and spacecrafts
(2002 official guide, 2002, p.11).
NASM is not only a Mecca for aviation and space enthusiasts. A cross
between Disneyland and the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, it also bring[s] joy,
instruction, and wonder toas the expression goeschildren of all ages
(Huxtable, 1976, p. 22). By the end of its first year, NASM has already welcomed
10 million visitors (Smithsonian Institution, 1977). By the early 1990s, more than
175 million people had visited the museum, making it the most visited museum in
the world. Visitors now come from every state of the United States and one out of
five comes from overseas (1991 official guide, 1991).
The opening of the Supermuseum on the Mall was significant for the
Smithsonian and, by extension, the American museum community at large. It was
the realization of Langleys and the Smithsonians long-awaited-dream. Their
passion and fascination with aviation had finally come to fruition. More importantly,
NASM was the best the museum community could offer to the American public
and the rest of the world regarding the history of aviation and aerospace. It
carefully chronicles the history of humankinds efforts to fly. The museum gives
visitors a first-hand impression of how aviation and space flight have changed the
ways in which we travel by air, prepare for national defense, study the Earth and
its resources, and explore the solar system and the universe beyond (2002 official
guide, 2002, p. 7; Smith, 1977). In so doing, NASM follows the terms of James
Smithsons will: I then bequeath the whole of my property. . . to the United States

48

of America, to found at Washington, under the name of the Smithsonian Institution,

an Establishment for the increase & diffusion of knowledge among men (quoted in
Oehser, 1949, p. 12).

The Air and Space Museum as American Epideictic

To fully understand the significance of NASM in America, the above
account alone is not sufficient. While Langleys passion and the Smithsonians
massive collection of artifacts no doubt constitute a significant part of the
museums character, the realization of an independent national air (and space)
museum should be viewed in a broader cultural milieu. Since the early years of the
20th century, airplanes and (particularly manned) flight have occupied a special
place in American cultural discourse (Corn, 1983; Pisano, 2003). And it is
aviations special place in American culture that gives NASM a unique iconic
status.
In the first place, the airplane is a significant symbol of 20th century
American culture. By way of myriad sourcesprint, illustration, film, cartoon, toys,
radio, and personal travelimages of flight remain. . . parcel of the American
experience and its popular imagination (Bilstein, 2003, p. 32). Aviation is a
realization of the ultimate human dream; manned flight is the epitome of our
conquest of the nature, i.e., the law of gravity. The airplane is thus not just another
machine; it rather symbolize[s] the promise of twentieth-century technology, a

49

shining promise of the machine age and exemplars of the gospel of flight
(Bilstein, 2003, p. 18).
Second and more importantly, for many Americans aviation is a unique
American accomplishment, a product of American genius and spirit that
contributes significantly to the advancement of humanity. As August Post, then
Secretary of Aero Club of America, exclaimed on the occasion of Orville Wrights
first successful flight: The whole town is up in the air. . . All the big guns are going
to boom this afternoon and the great American Eagle is going to spread its
wings. . . . [o]n account of the success of Orville Wright and the supremacy of
American Genius (quoted in Crouch, 2003, p. 5). As a parcel of experience and
imagination, this image of aviation as a uniquely American accomplishment has
appeared in many forms. For instance, many Americans consider flight as to be a
brave, heroic act. Thus, many of the great heroes in American fictions and comics,
from Superman to Batman to a high school teacher in the television series The
Greatest American Hero, can fly. By the same token, those who have made
significant accomplishments in the field of aviation are accorded with the status of
heroes and heroines in American culture; the Wright brothers, Charles Lindbergh,
and Amelia Earhart, to name a few, are all American heroes and heroines.
Moreover, this American image of aviation as a heroic accomplishment is
attributed not only to those who fly or flew, but also extends to those who have
made their flights possible. In other words, aviation is not only an individual
accomplishment; its

heroic

status is

also

accorded

to

groups, teams,

50

organizations, communities, and, most importantly, America. During the interwar

years, for instance, Germany was reputed for its excellence in industrial production
and technological advancement. In this historical context, as Bilstein (2003) notes,
the image of aviation as a unique American accomplishment made a subtle
alteration: American mass production was seen as the avenger to the German
Kraftwerk. Mass production was, after all, a fundamental principle of Americas
industrial strength (p. 19). It was this industrial principle that enabled American
military and economic dominance to persist all through the 20th century. From this
perspective, American air heroes were not only ace fighter pilots. In American
culture airplane designers, engineers, mechanics and maintenance workers, and
even those who worked at a factorys production lines at home became a part of
the aeronautical mythology (Bilstein, 2003, p. 19). John Steinbecks Bombs Away,
a novel about an American bomber team, perhaps best captures this unique
American idea:
This is a kind of organization that Americans above all others are best
capable of maintaining. The bomber team is truly a democratic
organization. No single man can give all the others to make a bomber
effective. . . Not everyone on a football team insists on being quarterback.
He plays the position he is best fitted to play. The best football team is one
where every member plays his own particular game as a part of the team.
The best bomber team is the one where each man plays for the success of
the mission. (quoted in Goldstein, 2003, p. 240)
The symbolic significance attached to aviation in American culture has
played a crucial role in shaping the particular rhetorical characters of NASM.
NASM has become a place where Americas great technological achievements in
air and space are enshrined and praised (Roland, 1993; White, 1997). It is a

51

discursive space where Americans come to commemorate the brave acts of

Americas best and brightest as part of their own national memory. As a parcel of
national experience and imagination, however, remembering each and every one
of these acts is not important to visitors experience in museum space; nor are
individual exhibits that feature these acts. While there is no doubt that these
individual achievements are significant in the history of aviation, what is more
important for the museum is the turning of these achievements into exemplars of
the great American story.
Thus, during the 1958 congressional hearing, Leonard Carmichael, then
Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, proudly declared that his air museum
would be like a monument to aviation and a shrine for the Wright plane, for
[a]viation. . . is peculiarly an achievement of American science and of American
inventive genius. Jimmy Doolittle, a World War II air hero, concurred that the
Wright Flyer deserves a shrine. . . to inspire young Americans. . . The national Air
Museum. . . is intended to be a lasting memorial to Americas unique record in the
air (quoted in Roland, 1993, p. 83). Grover Loening, a renowned American
aeronautical pioneer, declared that the Wright Flyer represents a kind of genius
that has never been equaled by any other nation. And he went on to state that
NASM should serve
notice to the other nations of the world that America leads in the air now
and always has, since the original invention of mankinds wings. . . The Air
Museum would be more than a building just to house an aircraft collection.
It would principally be a memorial to enshrine the greatest mechanical relic
in the worldthe first airplane to fly. (quoted in Roland, 1993, p. 83)

52

For many Americans, therefore, NASM is significant not only as a museum

of history and technology, the purpose of which is to collect, preserve, and display
aeronautical and space flight equipment of historical interest and significance;
serve as a repository for scientific equipment and data pertaining to the
development of aviation and space flight; and provide educational material for the
historical study of aviation and space flight. But as the one and only national
museum devoted to air and space, it is accorded with a unique, special mission: to
memorialize the national development of aviation and space flight ("National Air
and Space Museum Act", 1946).
As McMahon (1991) argues, the most striking feature of NASM lies not in
the massive collection it accommodates. What is more important lies in its version
of the American story, i.e., the rhetoric. . . of a national air museum (p. 292). And
central to that rhetoric is: the romance of technological progressof the unmixed
blessings of continued technical advance, and by implication, economic growth
(p. 281-2). NASM is not merely a museum of the history of aviation and space
technology. It is the Museum of the American Century (B. Thompson, 2000) that
tells visitors the history of the 20th century in which American heroes and heroines
and their historic achievements dominated the rest of the world. It is a story of
American genius and of a unique tradition that contains conceptions of character,
of what a good person is like, and of the virtues that define such character (Bellah
et al., 1996, p. 153).

53

The particular kind of discourse NASM practices is called epideictic.

Museums display and exhibit, so do speakers of epideictic orations. Epideictic is a
genre of discourse usually delivered at ceremonial and commemorative occasions.
It is also a rhetoric of display, by which a speaker exhibits and shows off ones
skills of public oratory. In addition, recent rhetorical scholarship underscores more
practical functions, e.g., political, evaluative, ideological, and constitutive, that
epideictic rhetoric performs (Consigny, 1992; Duffy, 1983; Oravec, 1976;
Poulakos, 1987; Sullivan, 1991, 1993a, 1993b, 1994). According to Isocrates,
epideictic is a discourse worthy of its cause, the highest kind of oration which
deals with the greatest affairs and, while best displaying the ability of those who
speak, brings most profit to those who hear (Isocrates, 1928b, p. 4-5). Particularly
relevant within this rhetorical genre is a kind of topical argument called
encomium or encomiastic praise (Poulakos, 1988). Encomium is a rhetoric of
celebration and commemoration. It praises a communitys best members and the
principles on which their praiseworthy words and deeds were based. Its purpose is
to effect the kind of unity that binds people together substantially and fosters the
desire for stronger bonds (Poulakos, 1997, p. 17). Encomiastic praise therefore
constitutes the basis for what ancient Greeks called paideia, i.e., a method of
education through ideal models that all individuals are bound to imitate, . . . to
make each individual in the image of community (Jaeger, 1970, p. 10; also see
Finley, 1975; Jaeger, 1944).

54

As a speaker of national epideictic, the rhetoric of NASM encomiastically

praises the nations heroes and heroines and encourages visitors to observe,
commemorate and become like these role models. Through the images of aviation
and airplanes as and spaceflight as exhibited in the museum space, visitors will
become what they are supposed to be, i.e., American people. Hornes (1984)
description of the chief communicative function of the great national museums
in modern Europe applies particularly well to NASM:
[T]he modern nation-state, when it formed, needed to give the people a
dramatised sense that they were part of the state, with a share in its future.
And as nation-states also became industrial states, . . . new means of
communication were needed to pass on new ways of behaving and to
mobilise new forms of support. Out of all this came new ways of
constructing images of what the world was like, and what mattered in
itnew ways of how to behave and how to be human. (p. 166-7)
NASM instruct[s] auditors about the means that lead to excellence (Poulakos,
1988, p. 156), through the tale of the great American century. NASM offers a place
where individuals, through the mediated experience of memory, cultivate
themselves and become good members of the national community, i.e., ideal
Americans. If we see epideictic speech as value-transmitting, the values we find
are explicitly praised in the text; if we understand epideictic as identity producing,
the identities we discover are implicitly enacted by the text (Mast, 1990, p. 85).
The rhetoric of NASM, thus, generate[s] identities for the subjects (p. 85) in the
audience.

55

The Place of the Enola Gay in the Air and Space

American Epideictic as Exclusion
Like the Smithsonians relationship with aviation and space flight, its relation
to the Enola Gay is long and complex. This relationship began before the
installation of NASM, when the Smithsonian took custody of this World War II
veteran aircraft in 1949. The Enola Gay was, and still is, the largest military aircraft
the Smithsonian has ever accepted. Because of the planes gigantic size, the
Smithsonian could not accommodate it in any of the Institutes own facilities. The
Smithsonian thus had to move the aircraft from one place to another, as it sought
a place where this World War II bomber could stay. During the 1950s, the Enola
Gay traveled through various Air Force bases throughout the nation and,
unfortunately at most of these facilities, it was stored in the open air, which caused
the aircrafts condition to deteriorate. In 1960, the Smithsonian officially acquired
the aircraft and finally decided to place it in the Institutes own storage facility in
Silver Hill, MD, a Washington, D.C. suburb. There the Enola Gay stayed
disassembled and waited for another thirty-five years, before the plane would
make its first visit to the nations capital someday.
For the Smithsonian, placing the Enola Gay on the Washington Mall was
not a straightforward matter. In the first place, from purely technological and
engineering

perspectives,

the

Enola

Gay

was

not

an

aircraft

worth

commemorating and remembering-together on the Mall. Although it was the

largest military aircraft produced and deployed in World War II with wings

56

measured around 140 feet from tip to tip, its looks and size alone did not justify
giving the Enola Gay the equal status with other airplanes that had made aviation
history. Unlike the Kitty Hawk Flyer or the Spirit of St. Louis, the Enola Gay did not
set any unique American record in the air. Unlike Langelys Great Aerodrome, it
did not have a unique design of its own. In addition, as a B-29, there was nothing
special about the plane, itself (Polmar, 2004). During World War II, Boeing
manufactured approximately 4000 B-29s, and the Enola Gay was just like other
3999. As aircraft serial number 44-86292, the Enola Gay is not a product of
Americas technological breakthrough; it has no distinguishing, unique features
worthy of an aviation enthusiasts attention.
Second and more important, as a parcel of national experience and
imagination, the Enola Gay was not necessarily an aircraft worth commemorating
at the Museum of the American Century. Placing the atomic bombing in the
nations cultural memory risked activating discomfort and igniting controversy in
post World War II America. Although many Americans consider the success of the
Enola Gays atomic mission as one of the major reasons for an early end to the
war in the Pacific, there is no consensus among Americans regarding the overall
wisdom and morality of what happened in Hiroshima on August 6, 1945 and
thereafter. American remembrance of these events has never been collective or
collected. The remembrance that is deeply entrenched in the nations cultural
memory has taken the form of discursive struggle, contestation, and controversy.
While there is no doubt that the members of the 509th Composite Group of the 20th

57

Air Force led by Paul Tibbets are among Americas war heroes, not all Americans
believe that the mission they accomplished with the Enola Gay is worthy of
commemorating and encomiastically praising.
Indeed, NASM was well aware that the inclusion of a controversial subjects
in its exhibition, such as the dropping of the first atomic bomb, could undermine its
role as a speaker of American epideictic. Thompson (2000) points out, for
instance, that there is good reason for the virtual absence of the Vietnam War,
another controversial event in the history of 20th century America at NASM. Corn
(1989) notes that what is most symbolic about NASMs celebratory approach of
exhibition is its reluctance, if not refusal, to be critical of aerospace developments
or to say anything unfavorable about flight and aviation. Virtually ignoring such
subjects as the Vietnam War, writes he, NASM lines up ideologically as a
promoter rather than interpreter of flight. Just as the airline industry historically has
avoided any discussion of safety in public and. . . [any] mentioning [of] such words
as crash or accident on board their planes, the museum, too, eschews an
objective and critical voice on the subjects (p. 243). As a parcel of national
imagination, American air and space genius must not go questioned at NASM.
The Smithsonian recognized that more than positive memories were needed if the
museum was to inspire young citizens. It understood that it would be necessary
also to avoid the negative aspects of aviation history (McMahon, 1991, p. 293).
As Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1969) point out, the purpose of
epideictic is to defend the traditional and accepted values, those which are the

58

object of education, not the new and revolutionary values which stir up controversy
and polemic (p. 51). And to accomplish this very goal, epideictic discourse turns
exclusionary. . . attempt[ing] to close off issues (Sullivan, 1994, p. 300). As
Summers (1990) observes:
Epideictic rhetoric, most frequently defined as the persuasive use of praise
or blame, plays a central role in negotiating values and belief. Praise and
blame are frequently used to define acceptable and unacceptable ways of
acting, speaking, or thinking within a culture. . . Thus, examples of
epideictic rhetoric are a primary discursive site for negotiating the values
that inform decision-making and orient actions within a culture; they are
also involved in constructing both individual subjectivity and social attitudes
and beliefs. At the same time, epideictic rhetoric attempts to reduce
opportunities for opposition or debate by masking itself as simple praise or
blame and by assuming that the rhetor and the audience are already in
agreement.
American Genius and the Good War
The 20th century has been, after all, a century of warfare. It has also been
an age of aerial wars, and it is this aerial (and later, space) warfare that has
enabled the United States to become the worlds superpower, making the past
century the American century. Orville Wright is reported to have once said
optimistically, The Aeroplane has made war so terrible that I do not believe any
country will again care to start war (quoted in Bilstein, 2003, p. 19). Yet, ironically
for Wright, the invention of the airplane did not terminate warfare. Indeed, military
themes are not only present and apparent in NASMs exhibit space; they were
also dominant, celebrated, and encomiastically praised. And it is in this particular
context of warfare that the Smithsonian purports to commemorate as part of
Americas unique achievement. English writer Thomas Hardy once wrote, War

59

makes rattling good history; but peace is boring (quoted in Werrell, 1996, p. ix).
The United States entered World War I, the Great War in the Air, three years
after it started, but by the wars end in 1918, the United States had risen to the
first rank of the worlds powers (Pisano et al., 1991, p. 126). World War II further
provided evidence for the supremacy of American Genius. The countrys massive
air power dominated the European, as well as the Pacific, theaters. Domestically,
mass production of military aircraft enabled the nation to escape from the Great
Depression, making the Good War even better.
Want to know how we got where we are in the year 2000? An Air and
Space tour is the logical place to start (Thompson, 2000, p. 8). For instance, a
significant portion of NASMs exhibition memorializes aircraft that were military in
nature, many of which were from the Good War period, a generous donation
arranged by General Hap Arnold, Commander of the U.S. Army Air Force (2002
official guide, 2002, p. 8). The museum further tells visitors that the Cold War
(nuclear) arms race contributed to the Moon landing. This great achievement in
the history of space flight and exploration would never has existed if it had not
been for the confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union. The
establishment of NASA was, after all, the Americas response to the Soviets 1957
Sputnik launch. To further demonstrate that America won the Cold War in both
space and air, the Pershing II, an American intermediate range nuclear missile,
was exhibited in tandem with commemorated by a Soviet SS-20, another nuclear
missile and a spoil of the Cold War.

60

For NASM, however, the Enola Gay is a military aircraft too hot to handle.
Because the Enola Gay was is a famous and controversial aircraft, its exhibition
could disturb the museums epideictic rhetoric of the American century. By not
displaying the aircraft, NASM had been able to effectively and rhetorically exclude
Hiroshima and afterwards from its discourse of encomiastic praising. As Piehler
(1995) writes:
Because the mainland United States never suffered the terror bombing of
European and other civilian centers, Americans could cling more easily to a
depiction of aerial combat as a glorious affair that served to test the
strength and skill of individual aviators and American technology. In a
sense, many Americans did not want their memories of the Second World
War as the good war dimmed by reflecting on the terrible nature of
modern warfare. Furthermore, the cold war led policy makers to temper or
obscure the destruction caused by the Second World War, especially by the
atomic bombs that ended it. (p. 146)
The American story is an uplifting narrative. . . Union and Confederate soldiers
sacrificing all at Gettysburg, Marines planning the flag atop Mt. Suribachi. . . The
story that is America is truly amazing. The greatest part of the American epic is
that its most glorious scenes have yet to be acted out (Flynn, 2002, p. 212-213).
In order to act out and continue to tell this uplifting story of Americas achievement
in air and space, the placing of the Enola Gay in the nations air and space
museum seem to be neither necessarily necessary nor desirable.
In fact, this is how NASM promoters designed the museums epideictic
rhetoric to function: Controversy should be avoided at all cost. A World War II
veteran and Republican candidate for President of the United States, Barry
Goldwater was the major driving force behind bringing the air and space museum

61

to the Washington Mall. While the idea of NASM itself may have been the
brainchild of Langleys and other aviation enthusiasts, it was due to Goldwaters
personal support that $40 million in construction funds was finally appropriated
(2002 official guide, 2002, p. 10). During the 1970 congressional hearing,
Goldwater declared that the air and space museum should serve as a modern
American epideictic, a Gettysburg-like statement for the nations air and space
age, carrying the stories that are going to inspire my grandchildren and my greatgrandchildren into doing things that I will admit can be done (Smithsonian general
background, 1970, p. 187). He wanted NASM to be a place where visitors hear
and experience, first-hand, the American epideictic already. . . written by the
Wright Brothers and the Lindberghs, the Doolittles, Jackie Cochran, Amelia
Earhart (p. 187).
More

significant,

however,

was

what

Goldwater

and

his

fellow

congressional supporters of NASM stated about the Enola Gays place in

Americas epideictic. Following is part of an exchange Goldwater had with
Representative Frank Thompson, Chair of the House Subcommittee on Library
and Memorial:
Mr. Thompson. I had just one or two comments with respect to storage of
the Air Museums artifacts and other things at Silver Hill. It has come to our
attention that some of these items are in a state of disintegration, some are
deteriorating and others are actually disintegrating. It would seem to me
that either those in charge of the Air Museum, the temporary director and so
on, ought to properly preserve these exhibits or they should be properly
disposed of. Dr. Ripley said the other day that the institution is in a
continuous process of disposing of things no longer needed, because they
do get such a fantastic number of items.

62

For instance, the aircraft, the Enola Gay is out there. She was the
one used in the atomic attack on Hiroshima. I am not sure that she
shouldnt belong to the Air Force rather than to the Air Museum.
Senator Goldwater. We have visited Silver Hill. I have been
interested in it for many years. I would say that the aircraft that the
Smithsonian will ultimately want are under cover. They are few in number.
I would agree with you that in the case of the Enola Gay and many
others. . . they probably should go to the Air Force Museum that has not
been started in Dayton, where we have a duplication of models. . . What we
are interested in here are the truly historic aircraft. I wouldnt consider the
one that dropped the bomb on Japan as belonging to that category.
(Smithsonian general background, 1970, p. 185)
While the Smithsonian Institution has never been a federal agency and its
operation and management is, by law, independent of governmental supervisions,
its museums rely on appropriations from the United States Congress for its annual
operating budget (2002 official guide, 2002, p. 7). As S. Dillon Ripley (1977), a
former Smithsonian Secretary, testified, the Institution receives various kinds of
congressional and governmental recommendations that they have to work on.
Ever since its incorporation, the Smithsonian Regents have recognized that, once
they accepted an appropriation from Congress, the arrangement would force the
Smithsonian to become an annual supplicant for government patronage, and
ultimately subject it to political influence and control (Henderson & Kaeppler,
1997a, p. 11).

The Enola Gay and the Smithsonians New Direction

A Right Time for the Enola Gay
The above section explained difficulties that the Smithsonian has had with
the Enola Gay. NASM excluded the Enola Gay, as well as other unsung and

63

unwanted heroes such as Vietnam War aircraft, from its discourse. Hence, the
aircraft was exiled at the Institutions storage facility and was denied the
opportunity to be exhibited in Washington, D.C. for almost forty years.
In the late 1980s, however, this situation began to change. In the July 1988
issue of the Smithsonian, its official magazine, the Smithsonian declared that the
Enola Gay will be exhibited (Adams, 1988, p. 12). According to Robert
McCormick Adams, then Institutions Secretary, the Smithsonian was currently in
the business of confronting and learning from history, not suppressing it (Adams,
1988, p. 12). Adams even denied that difficulties with the aircraft had ever existed:
Neither in the surviving records nor in the memories of staff members. . . is there
any hint of ambivalence on that score (Adams, 1988, p. 12, emphasis in original).
And regarding the potential Enola Gay exhibit, he made the Smithsonians position
very clear:
[T]he wider ramifications of exhibiting the Enola Gay echo around us. For
the men of the 509th Composite Group, 20th Air Force, who flew her or
escorted her, the window of visibility was narrow and clouded. Behind lay
knowledge of the Bataan death march and other Japanese atrocities.
Immediately in prospect was an invasion, immensely costly in lives. . . An
indissoluble part of an exhibit of the Enola Gay should [also] be some
account of what happened at Hiroshimathen and afterward. Probably the
somewhat doubtful overall effectiveness of earlier and subsequent nonnuclear bombingin Germany during World War II, and in Vietnamalso
should be looked at. . . (p. 12)
Adams believed that the Smithsonians exhibit space should never be
immune to social and cultural change. As Henderson and Kaeppler (1997) explain,
the Smithsonian curators were committed to the total cause of education and
became more willing to act upon their belief that there is no single, overarching

64

agreement on historical truth (p. 4). [A]s exhibitions have emerged as a major
focus of Smithsonian research and outreach, the Smithsonian museums have
left their safely removed cabinets for arenas of often intense public scrutiny (p. 4).
Like other museums in the United States, the Smithsonian began to embrace the
metaphor of forum for its communication practices of exhibition.
In the late 1980s, the Smithsonian museums launched a series of new
exhibits that raised the eyebrows of many visitors. An exhibit on World War II
Japanese American internment, for instance, was criticized for placing too much
emphasis on the negative aspects of the internment and for disparaging American
military achievement during the war (Allen & Allen, 2001, p. 4; also see McConnell,
1988). So was a special exhibit on American arts, as some visitors did not want to
see American masterpieces as reflections of imperialism and racism as much as
Arcadian depictions of the frontier (Nash et al., 2000, p. 6). By the same token,
some visitors found a new exhibit on science ("Opening: 'Science in American
Life,'" 1994) too controversial to be a Smithsonian show. Critics particularly
disliked the museums excessive emphasis on the military industrial complex
and gender and racial discrimination in American science. According to one
critic, the museums message was that Western civilization is heavily burdened
with guilt, and science, as a servant of the power structure, must bear a large
share of that guilt (Park, 1994, p. 209).
As facilitators of critical discourse, the Smithsonian curators began
engaging issues by placing their exhibits in larger historical, social, and political

65

contexts. It was in this particular museological metamorphosis that the idea of

exhibiting the Enola Gay emerged. Secretary Adams indeed backed the curators
critical turn. An anthropologist and former Provost at the University of Chicago, he
was considered to be the person chiefly responsible for bringing a university-like
critical, multicultural scholarship into the Smithsonian museums (Budiansky et
al., 1995). He explicitly stated that the Enola Gay would be displayed in a historical
context of the 20th century aerial wars: what happened in Hiroshima, then and
afterward. The exhibit would, he declared, touch on other non-nuclear
bombingin Germany during World War II, and in Vietnam. Given its unique
character as the national epideictic, these were themes that NASM had never
touched upon, i.e., historical episodes previously thought to be too historic and
controversial to be part of the great American story.
In 1987 Martin Harwit was installed as NASMs new Director. He was not a
typical NASM person. Unlike NASMs previous directors, Harwit was neither an
airwar nor space hero; nor did he have any military connections. An MIT trained
astrophysicist and Cornell professor, Harwit came to the Washington Mall with a
host of new and unique ideas.
Under Harwits directorship, NASM launched a series of innovative
exhibitions that cut across aviation and aerospace, environmental science and
ecology (Smithsonian Institution, 1994), computer science (Williams, 1990), and
even science fiction (Chaikin, 1997). More importantly, Harwit shared with Adams
and the Smithsonian curators an interest in educating young American

66

technological geniuses to be sensitive to larger socio-historical contexts. At

Cornell, he had created an interdisciplinary history of science and technology
program to gain a deeper understanding of technology and give [his] students
better insight into its origins and influence on everyday life (Harwit, 1997, p. 27).
And, from the beginning, his ideas on exhibiting the Enola Gay were
straightforward: He wanted to ask visitors critical questions. A part of one of his
1987 memos reads:
This is not an exhibit about the rights and wrongs of war, about who started
what, and who were the bad guys and who the good. It is about the impact
and effects of bombing on people and on the strategic outcome of conflicts.
Is bombing strategically effective? Are the costs worth the strategic gains?
How great is human error? How predictable are enemy casualties or ones
own losses? What are the losses to humans who become the
victimscivilian or military, it doesnt matter. (p. 28)
The Crossroads
The idea of exhibiting the Enola Gay on the Washington Mall was solely the
Smithsonians idea. It was its new direction that gave the aircraft a new public life.
Adams and Harwit, the Institute and NASMs new management team were
particularly instrumental. Preliminary discussion for the exhibit started as Harwit
assumed the directorship in fall 1987, and in three months, several versions of
exhibition proposal were drafted by the museum staff ("Fifty years on," [1987];
"Hiroshima and Nagasaki," [1987]; "The end of World War II," [1987]). It is the
Smithsonians decision that it was high time to prepare for an exhibition (Harwit,
1997, p. 28), with the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II in prospect. As
Harwit (1997) recalls, some people suggested that NASM should wait. . . until all

67

World War II veterans had passed away (p. 42), given the controversial nature of
the subject. But Harwit insisted that the museum should begin the preparation
immediately, for he wanted these veterans to join conversation in the exhibit space
and contribute to a better understanding of the history made by the Enola Gays
mission, before they were too old to visit the display (p. 42).
By 1992, a special exhibit team had been formed within the Smithsonian.
The lead curator was Michael Neufeld of NASMs Aeronautics Department, who
was assisted by William Jacobs of the Exhibits Department. With Tom Crouch,
Chair of the Aeronautic Department as supervisor, Neufelds team started
substantial research on the subject, and drafted a preliminary yet substantial
planning document in early 1993 ("Onset of the Cold War," 1993). Once the
planning document was approved, the exhibit team engaged in further research, in
order to draft an exhibit script which would be used to develop an actual show in
the museums exhibit space.
During this period that the Smithsonian contacted the 50th Anniversary of
World War II Commemoration Committee (Harwit, 1997, p. 123-4). With
Lieutenant General Claude M. Kicklighter of the U.S. Army as Chair, the
Committee was established by Congress to sponsor and coordinate various
commemorative activities, but not to initiate commemorations. In fact, for the 50th
anniversary of the Enola Gays mission, no official commemoration was
recognized or planned by the United States federal government. After the
Smithsonian contacted Kichlighter, however, cooperation between it and the

68

Committee started. The NASM staff assisted them in producing educational

pamphlets on World War II aircraft and on Tuskgee Airmen (the first black
American pilots to combat in the war). In return, the Committee offered NASM a
financial support to cover the printing cost of a pamphlet on the museums World
War II collection (Harwit, 1997, p. 123-4). In addition, Navy Commander Luanne
Smith later served as a critic to the Smithsonians exhibit script in her capacity as
a staff member of the World War II Commemoration Committee.
In January 1994, the first draft of the exhibit script was completed
("Crossroads," 1994). The script was a massive body of work, with more than 300
pages of typed texts and some 100 photocopied materials. The script consisted of
five sections. First section, A fight to finish, overviews the last two years of World
War II, particularly the final phase of the war in the Pacific. The section begins with
material on Japanese expansionism, Japanese atrocities caused in China, and the
attack on Pearl Harbor. Examining the strategic situation in the spring of 1945, the
section goes on to assess the intense battles for Iwo Jima and Okinawa that
resulted in substantial numbers of casualties on both sides. This section also
discusses the Japanese kamikaze campaign as evidence for Japans increasing
desperation.
The second section is titled The decision to drop the bomb. This section
details a range of factorspolitical, military, diplomatic, culturalthat contributed
to President Harry Trumans decision to drop the atomic bombs. It also includes
information about the history of the Manhattan Project and the debate among

69

U.S. scientists and decision-makers about the need to use this weapon. The
section features Albert Einsteins 1939 letter addressed to President Franklin D.
Roosevelt suggesting the possibility of a uranium bomb, Fat Man (Nagasaki
atomic bomb), and a letter from Henry Stimson, then President Trumans
Secretary of War, forecasting a future nuclear arms race.
The third section, The worlds first atomic strike force, traces the
manufacturing of the Boeing B-29 Superfortress bomber, the development of air
bases on the Marianas island in the Pacific, and the strategic bombing campaigns
against Japan. The section details the formation and operation of the 509th
Composite Group, and its 20th Bomb Groups preparation and execution of the two
atomic bombing missions. This section highlights various memorabilia from the
crew, Little Boy (Hiroshima bomb) casing, and a display of the forward fuselage
of the Enola Gay.
Cities at war, the forth section, describes what happened at Ground
Zero, i.e., Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the bombing. This section looks at the
event from the perspectives of those who were on the ground. The dimensions for
the destruction of these two cities is presented through photographs, videos, and
various items loaned from Hiroshima and Nagasaki peace museums. This section
also includes personal accounts from atomic bomb survivors, including foreign
prisoners of war who were in Nagasaki.
The final section, The legacy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, places the
World War II atomic bombing in a larger historical and diplomatic context. The

70

section discusses the role of the bombing in speeding the surrender of Japan. It
also traces the transition from the development and use of atomic weapons during
World War II to the postwar nuclear arms race, mutually assured destruction
(MAD) and nuclear weapon proliferation. To conclude the whole exhibit, this
section provides information on the difficult and debatable nature of the atomic
bombing campaigns, and on the important symbolic role of the bombing, as the
starting point of the nuclear age and the Cold War.
What is significant about the script was the way in which the NASM curators
structured the exhibit. The Crossroads, in a sense, was a series of chronologically
organized discussion materials. The NASM curators led by Neufeld attempted to
present the history of the atomic bombits development, use and after effectin
a way that would encourage discussion and debate by the visitors as they passed
through these five sections of the exhibit.
Equally important was the title the NASM draft script gave to the exhibition:
The Crossroads: The End of World War II, the Atomic Bomb, and the Origin of the
Cold War. This title is rhetorically significant, for it emphasizes the museums
contextual framing of the exhibit. First, it suggests that the atomic bombing was
the crossroads in the American century, i.e., the ultimate strategic bombing that
made history in aerial warfare. In addition, the script presents atomic bombing as a
historic moment, not only because it ended a war but also because it was the
prelude to another warfare, i.e., the Cold War nuclear arms race. Finally, it is
important to note that crossroads is a proper noun which has distinct symbolic

71

significance, a word already full of or filled with contested meanings. Crossroads

was the code name used for the worlds first hydrogen bomb tests that were
conducted by the United States just World War II:
Operation Crossroads was an atmospheric nuclear weapon test series
conducted in the summer of 1946. . . . The series was to study the effects
of nuclear weapon on ships, equipment, and material. A fleet of more than
90 vessels was assembled in Bikini Lagoon as a target. This target fleet
consisted of older U.S. capital ships, three captured German and Japanese
ships. . . . The support fleet of more than 150 ships provided quarters,
experimental stations, and workshops for most of the 42,000 men. . .
Additional personnel were located on nearby atolls such as Eniwetok and
Kwajalein. The islands of the Bikini Atoll were used primarily as recreation
and instrumental sites. ("Operation Crossroads: Fact sheet," 2002)
CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament) and environmental activists
probably remember Crossroads as the one that destroyed Bikini. For Harwit, it
was a reminiscence of his own experience of the nuclear bombing. At age 24, he
was drafted to the U.S. Army and stationed in the South Pacific as a part of the
Chemical Corps radiological warfare unit, participating in a series of nuclear
(hydrogen) bomb testing. There he observed an island, half of which had been
vaporized from the face of the earth, and of the sky. . . [W]e had stood on our little
island at Eniwetok, staring expectantly toward Bikini, only to see night turned into
day (Harwit, 1997, p. 13).

Chapter Summary
Given the complex relationship the Smithsonian had with aviation and
aerospace, it was not surprising that the Smithsonian should have hesitated when
it came to displaying the Enola Gay on the Washington Mall. The aircraft was too

72

controversial. For many years NASM had excluded the Enola Gay in its
encomiastic praising of American aviation and space technology. Controversy had
no place in NASMs celebratory showcase, and, in the eyes of the Smithsonian
and its promoters, the museums epideictic rhetoric worked well without reference
to Hiroshima and after.
In the 1980s, however, the Smithsonian adopted a new museological
approach and thereby created room for the Enola Gay at the NASM. The
Smithsonians curators and top management recognized the importance of
adopting a forum approach in their exhibits. The Crossroad, the initial exhibit script
for the Enola Gay, was an expression of such an approach. The intended effect of
this approach was to encourage reexamination and debate among the American
public on a pivotal moment in American history.

73

CHAPTER 4
FROM THE CROSSROADS TO THE LAST ACT: PUTTING AN END TO THE
SMITHSONIAN'S CRITICAL COMMEMORATION

This chapter discusses the rationale behind the Smithsonians proposed

exhibit featuring the Enola Gay and the critical reactions it received from various
individuals and groups. Describing and analyzing the pros and cons of The
Crossroads is important to this study, for it will help to ascertain how the
Smithsonians planned exhibit was perceived to be controversial and how that
controversiality determined its fate. Tracing the trajectory of discourse, the chapter
first describes

the

Smithsonians

philosophical

position that

guided the

development of The Crossroads. Second, the critical responses the Smithsonian

received from various actors, agents and agencies who had vested interests in the
exhibit are examined, with a particular analytical focus on specific lines of
arguments that emerged. Finally, the chapter discusses how the Smithsonian
responded to the lines of argument that ultimately determined the outcome of the
Enola Gay exhibit.

The Smithsonians Rationale

Exhibiting the Enola Gay
The Crossroads was a product of NASMs more than 8 years of preparation
and research. It was also the brainchild of NASM Director Martin Harwit and

74

Smithsonian Secretary Robert McCormick Adams, both of whom were strong

supporters of the forum approach to exhibiting and both favored displaying the
Enola Gay as part of an exhibit commemorating the 50th anniversary of the atomic
bombing.
Because controversy always seemed to surround the Enola Gay, Harwit
and Adams decided that it would be wise to consult with experts from outside of
the museum world regarding their opinions on the proposed exhibit. A special
advisory committee composed of prominent historians, military personnel,
sociologists of aviation technology and key Smithsonian figures such as Adams,
Harwit and David Challinor, the Institutes Assistant Secretary for Science were
named to the committee, and Herbert Friedman of the National Academy of
Science was selected as its chair. Since specific details of the exhibit had not yet
been developed, the fundamental issue confronting the committee was the simple:
whether the Smithsonian should display the Enola Gay at NASM.
Concern over the exhibit was expressed by only a small minority on the
committee. The comments of Noel Gayler, a former director of then secret
National Security Agency, were typical. He argued that the only distinction
accorded to the Enola Gay was that it was the aircraft with which we used the
nuclear weapon for the first time against human beings and that if we put that
thing on exhibit, we cannot fail to give the impression that we somehow are
glorifying that mission or taking pride in it. I think that if we do that, [it] will tarnish
the reputation of the museum (quoted in Harwit, 1997, p. 31). While he

75

acknowledged that the exhibit could generate a serious and constructive

discussions on atomic bombing and its implications, Gayler suggested that
[Exhibiting the Enola Gay would be] an act with incalculable consequences, no
matter how you do it. . . [I]t could become a pilgrimage for the most radical
right. . . (p. 33).
Secretary Adams welcomed Gaylers cautionary statement, by saying, This
is an issue of great important to us. . . . I am delighted that it has come up. . .
because I would like to get the widest possible view on what we do (quoted in
Harwit, 1997, p. 31). Harwit, however, minimized the likelihood of possible
negative political consequences. He expressed confidence that the museum
would be able to avert them before they emerged. He explained: [I]t will take us
several years to finish the restoration of the airplane. . . I would like to use that
time to speak with as many people in Congress and outside as possible to have a
dialogue that precedes any actions. . . so that people know what we are about to
do (p. 32).
In spite of the few objections raised by Gayler and others, most other
members of the advisory committee believed that the Enola Gay should have a
place in NASM. In their view it was an aircraft of crucially historic importance. For
instance, James Hansen, a historian of technology at Auburn University, stated
that the overwhelming majority of these young people would want to see the
Enola Gay. They would enjoy and benefit from discussing all of the issues
embodied in that airplane. . . The overwhelming majority of American people

76

would want to see the Enola Gay, for whatever reason (quoted in Harwit, 1997, p.
32). Alex Roland, another historian of technology at Duke, agreed: I think that the
appropriate criterion for decision on whether to display or not is whether the
artifact is a significant as we understand it at the present time. . . This plane. . .
that dropped the weapon. . . was engaged in an historical event (p. 32).

Controversy as Commemoration
Encouraged by this general, early support from outside the Smithsonian,
NASM proceeded with substantial exhibit preparation. Several versions of the
exhibition proposal were circulated within the Smithsonian during the latter half of
1987 ("Fifty years on," [1987]; "Hiroshima and Nagasaki," [1987]; "The end of
World War II," [1987]). Although they were still preliminary these proposals,
nevertheless, revealed the basic rationale for the exhibit that was scheduled to
open in 1995. These proposals underscored the Smithsonians firm determination
to exhibit the Enola Gay as part of its exhibit commemorating the 50th anniversary
of the end of World War II and of the atomic bombing. The proposals also attested
to the museums willingness to accept the fact that controversy was inevitable and
necessary.
First, these documents openly acknowledged that there existed a
controversial event in the American century, i.e., the U.S. atomic bombing of
Hiroshima and Nagasaki. For instance, Hiroshima and Nagasaki: A Fiftieth

77

Anniversary Exhibit at the National Air and Space Museum ([1987]), a three-page
preliminary proposal began with the following introductory remarks:
Few events have had a more profound impact on our time than the creation
of nuclear weapons and their employment against Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Half a century later, the implications of the decision to drop the atomic
bomb are still being debated. As we approach the fiftieth anniversary of the
atomic bombing of Japan, the National Air and Space Museum has an
opportunity and an obligation to help visitors understand this pivotal
moment in the history of the twentieth century.
Museum staff members recognize that this is an emotionally charged
subject marked by strong feelings, widespread public interest and a broader
range of opinion. (p. 1)
These simple passages, consisting of just 100 words, were striking to those
who were familiar with NASMs historical representations of aviation and space
flight. Rather than distancing the National Air and Space Museum from one of the
most controversial events of the American century, the proposals embraced the
50th anniversary as an opportunity and obligation to help visitors understand the
significance and implications of the atomic bombing.
The planning documents also set forth a particular way in which the
Smithsonian wanted the American public to commemorate the 50th anniversary of
the atomic bombing. From the beginning, . . . the Enola Gay exhibit was designed
to provoke its audience (Kohn, 1996, p. 146). That is, the Smithsonian wanted
Americans to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II by
engaging in critical discussion and debate:
The primary goal of this exhibition will be to encourage visitors to make a
thoughtful and balanced re-examination of the atomic bombings in the light
of the political and military factors leading to the decision to use the bomb,
the human suffering experienced by the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
and the long-term implications of the events of August 6 and 9, 1945. While

78

there will undoubtedly be other commemorations in connection with the

fiftieth anniversary, this exhibit can provide a crucial public service by
reexamining these issues in the light of the most recent scholarship. The
Museum hopes that the exhibit would contribute to a more profound
discussion of the atomic bombings among the general public of the United
States, Japan, and elsewhere. ("Hiroshima and Nagasaki, [1987], p. 1)
This was an attitude that NASM had not adopted before. In the past, NASMs
exhibits had always been uplifting and inspiring to visitors. The only genre of
rhetoric the museum had exercised was that of epideictic, encomiastic praising
being the only topoi of that rhetoric. Controversy had never before been given a
place in the Smithsonians air and space museum. Anything that might disturb
NASMs celebratory showcase for American military technology had been
excluded.
Now, however, NASM declared that it was reborn as a forum. The
document explicitly recognized that, fifty years after the atomic bombing of
Japan, it was high time for the museum to make its unique collections of historic
artifacts relevant to the event (Fifty years on, [1987], p. 3) publicly accessible.
The Smithsonian held that the atomic bombings, discussion of which were so
often shunned in the past, should now, fifty years after their occurrence, be aired
(Fifty years on, [1987], p. 1) in its own discursive space. By following in the
footsteps of other Smithsonian museums, NASM would begin to embrace a critical
attitude in its exhibit practices and reject its previously assigned role as a speaker
of American epideictic.

79

Focus on Strategic Bombing

In order to stimulate meaningful discussion of the issues raised by the first
use of the atomic bomb, the planning document proposed that the National Air and
Space Museum adopt an approach used by other forum museums, including many
of the other Smithsonian museums. This approach called for a shift from objectdriven to idea-driven exhibition. An idea driven approach required that objects be,
not simply displayed, but placed in a meaningful historical or social context.
In the July/August, 1988 issue of Air & Space Smithsonian, NASMs official
magazine, Harwit (1988) explained the specific historical context that the museum
planned to use in its Enola Gay exhibition:
The Enola Gay will be displayed in a setting that will recall the history of
strategic bombing in World War II. As distinct from tactical bombing, which
was designed to destroy specific military targets, strategic bombing was
meant to break an enemys overall ability to respond militarily. It was aimed
at eliminating critical resources, such as ball bearings or gasoline, thereby
paralyzing the enemy. . . The B-29 has been called the ultimate realization
of the strategic bombing in World War II. . . .
The vocabulary of war is now different. No longer do we talk of
thousand-bomber raids and carpet bombing. Instead, we debate
mutually assured destruction, nuclear winter, and megadeaths.
Otherwise little has changed. (Harwit, 1988, p. 4)
The Enola Gay was not to be the one and only centerpiece in NASMs
exhibit plan. There would be other objects, artifacts, materials, and texts placed in
its exhibit space, and together they would constitute a context for discussing the
atomic bombing and its aftermath. The Smithsonian was aware that placing the
atomic bombing within the context of strategic bombing would make the exhibit

80

even more controversial. This is how NASM wanted to stage a critical

commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II:
Strategic bombing remains one of the most controversial and far-reaching
legacies of the first war in the air. The path to Hiroshima and the real
possibility of nuclear holocaust began during World War I, when cities were
bombed for the first time in history. Strategic bombingusing aircraft to
attack an enemys cities, industries, and civilian populationredefined the
battlefield and erased forever the destitution between soldier and civilian.
(Pisano et al., 1991, p. 105)
NASMs planned exhibit was not to be a show with a specific, narrow focus;
its purpose was not simply to commemorate the events that happened on August
6 and 9, 1945. Its purpose was to stimulate discussion of what occurred both
before and after the use of the atomic bombs, including non-atomic aerial
bombings during World War I, World War II, and the Cold War. As Harwit wrote:
The principal task of a historical exhibition is to help a museum visitor understand
the impact of key events on everyday lifehow past experience has shaped
todays world (quoted in Pisano et al., 1991, p.7).
NASMs commemorative exhibit was not a stand-alone exhibit. During the
1989-1990 period, for instance, NASM sponsored lectures, films, discussions, and
scholarly symposia about strategic bombing during World War II, the purpose of
which was to historicize, contextualize and make more meaningful its upcoming
Enola Gay exhibit (Harwit, 1996). In 1991, a permanent World War I exhibition was
opened at NASM, which, in retrospect, functioned as the prelude to the Enola Gay
controversy. Titled, Legend, Memory and the Great War in the Air, this exhibit took
a critical view of aerial warfare in general and of strategic bombing in particular, a

81

point of view the Smithsonian had not previously expressed. For instance, Hank
Burchard (1991), a veteran art critic with the Washington Post, noted the
surprisingly critical nature of this World War I exhibit:
A shocking show is turning heads and stomachs at the National Air and
Space Museum. What at first seems to be yet another hymn to the glories
of early aviation suddenly becomes a straightforward account of the
stupidities and horrors of war.
Its a dose of reality such as has never before been seen in the
Smithsonians gee-whiz high-tech museum, which has made itself the
towns top tourist draw by showing off great big shiny aircraft and rockets
while virtually ignoring the death and destruction with which they plague the
planet. (p. 65)
According to Burchard this was an exhibit that no one could imagine taking place
at the museum that has from the beginning served as the central shrine of the
military-industrial complex. Nevertheless, he concluded that while a museum
largely run by pilots can hardly be expected to badmouth them. . . The
Smithsonians standard bearer may finally be rising to Smithsonian standard (p.
65).
Throughout 1990, the key staff members of NASM discussed possible
options for exhibiting the Enola Gay. The group considered logistical as well as
curatorial concerns regarding the location of the Enola Gay in the upcoming
exhibit. In a November 8 memo to Harwit (Crouch, 1990), the group outlined the
final exhibition options they considered viable and practical:
Option 1. Exhibit the forward section of the fuselage, along with an
accompanying exhibition. . . proposed to SITES that a traveling exhibition
on the same theme open at the same time as NASM show in San Francisco
and Tokyo, giving the them broad international exposure. . . .
Expenses. . . . Total $219,000

82

This option is the simplest and least costly approach and would allow the
collections Management staff to continue with preparations for moving to
the Extension. . . This option would not have the impact of the fully
assembled or exhibited airplane.
Option 2. Exhibit the Enola Gay fully assembled on the Mall in a dedicated
soft structure.
Expenses. . . . Total $2,155,000+
By any measure, the costs associated with this option is very high. In view
of the need to protect the aircraft from the elements, provide adequate
security, and include an interpretive exhibition, a free-standing structure
would re required; costs could range from $1,000,000 to $1,500,000 from
several parties. . . We believe it would be difficult to justify such an expense
for a temporary exhibition. . .
This option [also] strains our human resources to the breaking point.
Moving the aircraft to the Mall, assembling it under difficult conditions and
disassembling it again three to six months later would be an overwhelming
task. . . .
Option 3. Open a special exhibition commemorating the 50th anniversary of
the end of WWII in the West End gallery, along with a special display of the
Enola Gay at the Garber Facility. . . provide transportation to Garber from
the Mall via shuttle buses during the summer months; the airplane would be
displayed unassembled in exploded-view style in a temporary tent-like
structure, giving visitors the rare opportunity to look inside each
component. . .
Expenses. . . . Total $467,000+
A special exhibition on strategic air power in WWII with emphasis on the
Manhattan Project and the decision to use the Atomic Bomb would be
prepared for the West End gallery of NASM. A special bus service would
transport visitors to and from Garber, where they would see not only the
Enola Gay but also other WWII aircraft in the collection. . .
The group regards this option with genuine enthusiasm. The
advantages are apparent:
* The program would have high visibility.
* This option allows us to show the Enola Gay for the first time in
decadesand to display the full range and scope of our WWII
collectionthe finest in the world. . . .
From this internal memo it was clear that the Smithsonian remained
committed to the idea of forum: The exhibition would be idea-driven, not objectdriven. There was also agreement that the Enola Gay would not be the focus of

83

their planned commemorative exhibit. Their aim was neither to observe, praise nor
blame the aircraft. The memo thus concluded:
[W]e believe that the third option offers an unparalleled opportunity for
NASM to achieve a variety of goals at a reasonable cost. The exhibition
outlined would draw national and international attention to our museum and
would avoid the impression that we are only celebrating Hiroshima and
Nagasakia very real possibility if the Enola Gay becomes the centerpiece
of an exhibition on the Mall. The first option also provides a suitable
exhibition and generates international interest with modest expense. As a
group, we most certainly do not favor the exhibition of the Enola Gay on the
Mall.
In sum, exhibiting a controversy was the way the Smithsonian chose to
commemorate the Enola Gays atomic mission. The NASM curators, as well as
Adams and Harwit, believed that celebration was not the only way for living
Americans to commemorate the nations past. They maintained that reexamination and debate was, at least, an equally important ways by which to
remember-together a pivotal moment in history. By displaying the historic aircraft
within the context of 20th century air warfare, particularly World War II strategic
bombing, NASM sought to provide a valuable service to the American public.
Moreover, the Smithsonian and NASM agreed that the Enola Gay, as a
display object, would not be the centerpiece of the commemorative exhibit. Rather,
the exhibit would emphasize a broad and holistic message aimed at engaging the
American public in critical reflection.
Faced with a number of alternatives, the museum has chosen to provide
not an opinion piece but rather the basic information that visitors will need
to draw their own conclusions. This is our responsibility, as a national
museum in a democracy predicated on an informed citizenry.
We have found no way to exhibit the Enola Gay and satisfy
everyone. But a comprehensive and thoughtful discussion can help us learn

84

from history. And that is what we aim to offer our visitors. (Harwit, 1994b, p.
C9)

Critical Reactions to the Proposed Exhibit

In spite of the Smithsonians early and frequent discussions with interested
parties and its months of careful planning, the museums preliminary plans for the
Enola Gay exhibit were greeted with broad and often, severe criticisms. These
criticisms came not only, or even primarily, from the official review panel, but also
from veterans and veterans groups, conservative newspapers and columnists,
members of Congress, and representatives of the aerospace industry. Some of
these criticisms appeared in official government documents, others were
contained in letters and memos sent directly to the National Air and Space
Museum, and still others appeared in the nations press.

Textual Imbalance
For many of those who reviewed The Crossroads, its initial scripts most
obvious and severe shortcoming was its lack of a balanced perspective. Simply
put, NASM had pushed its critical position much too far. Historians, who were
currently, or had formerly been, in the military service, were the most vocal and
adamant. For instance, the Tiger Team, an independent review panel led by a
retired USAF Brigadier General William Constantine, listed 42 recommendations
for further revisions, most of which had to do with the textual balance in the script

85

("The tiger team review," 1994). This panel was more directly involved in the
scripts development and more knowledgeable regarding its subject matter than
any other groups of critics. The Tiger Team believed that to leave the imbalances
uncorrected would be a distortion of the historical facts as well as a disservice to
the American public. They contended that the script was too sympathetic to Japan.
For instance, the Tiger Team pointed out:
The Kamikaze and their sacred rite are given too much coverage in the text,
photos and quotations. . . In contrast, there is much less coverage accorded
to the devastating consequences of the Kamikaze attacks. (p. 4)
Descriptions of the Japanese homefront in 1945 convey an overtly
sympathetic tone in comparison to the U.S. . . . There is little or no mention
of grief at losses of loved ones, numbers of American casualties, or other
sympathetic examples of personal hardship and suffering on the U.S.
homefronts. (p. 4-5)
Other critics were also concerned with the structural imbalances contained
within the script. Edward Drea, Chief Analyst at the Armys Research and Analysis
Division complained that: The storyline is an overview of 50 years of American
historiography about the bomb. The glaring deficiency is the absence of 50 years
of Japanese historiography on the same subject. For balance, both are necessary
(Drea, 1994). Harold Nelson, Armys Chief Historian, expressed a similar concern:
[T]he exhibit lacked a balance. Its so-called emotional center depicts graphically
Japanese civilians atomic bomb casualties. Yet the Japanese government, which
after all launched the war in China and in the Pacific, is portrayed as a helpless
bystander unable to influence the course of action (Nelson, 1994).

86

In addition to the structural imbalance, many critics pointed to specific lines

and passages in the script that created further imbalance. For instance, the review
team expressed a deep concern about the introductory text to the exhibits first
section, which read, In December 1941, Japan attacked U.S. bases at Pearl
Harbor. . . For most Americans, [the War in the Pacific] was. . . a war of
vengeance. For most Japanese, it was a war to defend their unique culture against
Western imperialism ("Crossroads," 1994, section 1, p. 5). These critics believed
that this passages depiction of U.S. and Japanese motives was unfair because it
erroneously depicted Japan as a war victim and the United States as the villain
(Linenthal, 1996, p. 44).
The greatest complaint expressed by the Smithsonians critics, however,
concerned the exhibits second section, titled The decision to drop the bomb.
This section invited visitors to commemorate the atomic bombing by exposing
themselves to a controversy, through a reexamination of President Trumans
decision to use the atomic bomb. Nelson (1994) declared that The Crossroads
was one-sided when it came to discussing this particular historic moment: The
script offer[s] a revisionist interpretation of the weapons employment. In other
words, military dimension of the decision and use of the bomb is neglected.
Richard Hallion (1994), an Air Force Historian, expressed similar reservations:
The script gives the impression that Truman was more concerned with the
atomic bomb as a diplomatic weapon against the USSR than as a route to
shorten the war and avoid heavy American casualties.
President Trumans deep concern with potential American
casualties, should an invasion be necessary, does not come out clearly in
the script.

87

The script never mentions that President Roosevelt was the leading
American official advocating the bombing of Japanese cities heavily and
relentlessly. Outraged by Japanese brutality in China, FDR indicated even
prior to the Pearl Harbor attack, that he wanted to see Japanese cities
bombed.
The Tiger Team agreed with Nelsons and Hallions assessment and went
further to suggest that the exhibits second section was so biased that it might
even discourage visitors from engaging in meaningful debate:
The Unit contains a number of sidebars titled Historical Controversies
relating to the decision to drop the Bomb and/or possible alternatives to
using the Bomb. Because most of these Historical Controversies were
found to contain a fair amount of speculation, their stature as
controversies was considered somewhat diminished. As presently written,
these controversies could lead the viewing public to conclude that the
decision to drop the A-Bomb was questionable (perhaps unjustified?) rather
than debatable (still open to discussion). ("The tiger team review," 1994, p.
9)
A Time for Commemoration, Not Controversy
A second objection raised against The Crossroads script was that it was an
inappropriate way to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II. The
planned exhibit was not appropriate for the historic occasion. This line of argument
was most frequently expressed by World War II veterans and veterans
organizations. For these individuals and groups, the occasion called for a
celebration of the Good War and Americas successful war effort. As W. E. Cooper
(1994), a World War II B-29 pilot and a member of the Enola Gay Committee,
wrote:
The exhibition should be a celebration of the 50th anniversary of the end of
World War II. It should honor the Americans who gave up so much for so

88

long, and that includes almost every American citizens alive between 1941
and 1945.
It should honor our leadership for its fabulous job in planning and
executing strategies to end the war as soon as possible. It should honor the
working people who gave up so muchin many cases, thriving
businessesto work in factories building materials. And it should honor the
seven and a half million or our citizens who served on active duty during
that time period. (p. 18)
Veterans organizations attempted to influence the Smithsonians script
development and revisions through various channels and media. For instance,
James Currieo (1994), Executive Director of the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW),
wrote directly to NASM Director Harwit. In the letter dated October 26, 1994, he
declared that NASMs planned exhibit:
[I]t simply does not fairly commemorate and display the contributions made
by American military forces in the Pacific theater of operations nor does it
go far enough to cite the valor and sacrifice of individual Americans in
combat. It in no way portrays any sense of national pride or inspiration to
the present and future generations of Americans who will take the time to
see this exhibit.
Writing to United States Senator Sam Nunn, then Chairman of the
Committee on Armed Services, James Pattillo (1994), Vice President of the 20th
Air Force Association (the Enola Gay crew were part of the 20th Air Force during
World War II), agreed with the VFW. Pattillo declared that the Enola Gay should
be displayed intact, in a manner enhancing American national pride and honoring
its crew. . . If making room for it necessitates re-arranging or deleting some
present [N]ASM exhibits, then we respectfully request that you and your colleague
require it.

89

Some veterans organizations voiced their objections by issuing press

releases. On their news release on November 1994, the Jewish War Veterans
(JWV) expressed its official view on the idea of critical commemoration contained
in the exhibit script, or what JVW called the Smithsonians social agenda:
In a decision announced by National Commander David H. Hymes, the
Jewish War Veterans of the U.S.A. (JVW) advocates the immediate
cancellation of the controversial exhibition planned by the Smithsonian
Institution on the 1945 atomic bombing of Japan, which led to the surrender
of Japan and the end of World War II. . . . Too many wounds have been reopened at a result of this controversy in which the Smithsonian is applying
its own social agenda in disdain to a dramatic decision which saved
hundreds of thousands of American lives. The fulfillment of social agenda
should be left to opinion or research journal. It is best for all concerned and
for this country that the whole exhibit be scrapped in its entirety and laid to
rest without. . . controversy. ("JVW news release," 1994)
The American Legion adopted resolutions condemning the Smithsonian
and its proposed Enola Gay exhibit ("The American Legion resolution," 1994; R. V.
Thompson, [1994]). Although these resolutions received widespread media
attention, Bruce Thiesen, the American Legions National Commander, felt it was
necessary to write to President William Clinton to express the Legions strong
feeling regarding the inappropriateness of the exhibit:
Dear Mr. President:
In May of this year, the American Legion went on record in opposition to the
use of the historic aircraft, the Enola Gay, in the Smithsonian Institutions
planned exhibit on the role of atomic weapons in ending World War II. . .
[I]t is our opinion that the exhibit as now proposed falls far short of the
mark. With a 1995 opening scheduled to coincide with the 50th anniversary
of the Allied victory in World War II, the exhibit remains an affront to an
entire generation of Americans. . . . (1994; also see "Veterans right about
Enola Gay exhibition," 1995)

90

Disparaging Veterans and Their Memories

A third charge raised against The Crossroads was that the planned exhibit
dishonored the Enola Gay crew who took part in the atomic mission and, by
extension, other World War II veterans and their memories. Although this objection
was closely related to the preceding one, i.e., a time for celebration, not
controversy, however, it is important to isolate this particular line of argument for
analytical purpose, because this was primarily raised by those individual veterans
who experienced the bombing themselves or who were emotionally close to them,
particularly in relation to their Enola Gay memories.
These veterans objected to the way the Enola Gay was treated by the
Smithsonian in the exhibit script. More specifically, for them, restoring the aircraft
and displaying it on the Mall was the most appropriate means of commemoration;
nothing else was necessary. What they wanted NASM to do with the aircraft was
to simply display it, no more, no less.
As USAF Brigadier General Paul Tibbets, who command-piloted the Enola
Gay, stated: [T]he proposed display of the Enola Gay is a package of insults.
Resting on an arrangement that will be shaped like a cradle, the sixty-some feet of
fuselage and forward bomb bay. . . make for an awesome sight (Tibbets, 1994).
What he wanted was a simple celebratory exhibit where the Enola Gay was
memorialized as the one and only centerpiece. He thus suggested that the Enola
Gay be preserved and displayed properlyand alone, for all the world to see.

91

Many others agreed with General Tibbets assessment. Robert Dorr (1994)
declared that: [The Crossroads] is a slap in the face to all Americans, including
our courageous fallen, who fought from Pearl Harbor to Tokyo Bay. . . . The way to
exhibit the plane that bombed Hiroshima is to put it where people can see it,
period. . .

The aircraft [should be] available on public view without social

commentary. . . . (p. C9). And Charles Krauthammer (1994) believed that he

spoke for other voiceless veterans when he wrote, Hang the plane in the museum
without commentary or slanted context. Display it like Lindberghs plane, with
silent reverence and a few lines explaining what it did and when (p. A27).
These veterans and their sympathizers also objected to The Crossroads,
because they did not want second-guessing of Trumans decision to drop the
bomb. Today, on the eve of the 50th Anniversary of the end of World War II, many
are second-guessing the decision to use the atomic weapons. To them, I would
say, STOP! It happened (Tibbets, 1994). To those associated with the bombing
and to those who survived because of it, the decision to drop the bomb was not
controversial and never had been. According to the history they knew, the
decision made by Truman was well-informed and militarily justified. (M. J. Hughes,
1994, 1995a, 1995b; Newman, 1995a; Pincus, 1995); the argument that he hastily
ordered to drop the bomb in order to impress the Soviet Union was preposterous
(Craig, 1994, p. A20).
More significantly, many veterans objected to exhibiting controversy, even if
historical scholarship would warrant it. For them, dropping the bomb was not only

92

a strategically necessary and justifiable military act; it also was unequivocally right,
good, just, and moral. It was Trumans decision that saved their lives, and any
attempt at questioning that decision would be inadmissible. In his Washington Post
editorial, for instance, James Van de Velde (1995) wrote: The one million saved
lives figure often cited as justification to use the atomic bomb may be historically
inaccurate, but so what? Did the bomb save lives: absolutely yes. . . . period. And
that is unambiguously good (p. A23).
And, as it is the bombing that saved lives of their own and of many others,
many veterans were personally attached to Trumans decision. What was at stake
was not an objective history but their own memories of the war. And, in criticizing
NASM, they expressed these personal attachments. George Oakes (1994), a
World War II veteran, wrote that August 6, 1945 was the happiest day in his life.
Describing himself as proud American, he further stated that dropping the bomb
on Hiroshima meant that I was going home, safe, and sound, to be my family and
my fiance. I was 22 years old and did not care how many bombs were dropped
on the Japanese (p. B2). Ivan Jirak (1994), an ex-Marine stationed as part of the
occupation troops in post-war Nagasaki, wrote of his eye-witness account of three
young Japanese women dying of injuries from the atomic bomb. Nevertheless, he
was as happy as General Tibbets regarding the consequences of the bombing:
I. . . was then, as I am now, very glad the bomb fell (p. C2). Curtis Bandle (1994),
the son of a veteran of the Pacific campaigns, was disturbed, because nowhere in

93

The Crossroads could he find what his father used to say, Thank God for the
atomic bomb (p. C9).

The Wrong Place for Controversial Exhibit

The charge of the wrong place was another line of argument that emerged
in reaction to NASMs planned critical commemoration. A powerful group of air
force personnel, veterans, and aerospace industry spokesmen, and political
leaders made this issue the central focus of their attack on the planned exhibit.
They believed that, in general, the exhibits of the Smithsonian should be positive,
and they were especially critical of the National Air and Space Museum for
ignoring

its

founding

principle,

i.e.,

to

memorialize

Americas

unique

accomplishments in air and space. As Manny Horowitz (1994), a World War II B29 navigator, wrote in the Washington Post:
Veterans are deeply concerned that schoolchildren and their parents born
after World War II will leave the National Air and Space Museum with a
distorted and incorrect understanding of this important part of our countrys
history. The National Air and Space Museum was not established to be a
center for political, philosophical, sociological, or ethnic[sic?] discourse. A
reading of its charter indicates that Harwit and his staff have strayed far off
course. (p. C9)
The Crossroads was, to Horowitz and others, an obvious violation of this
founding principle. The Air Force Association (AFA), the national organization for
Air Force veterans, was, perhaps, the most adamant on the issue of the wrong
place. The Association maintains close connections with current Air Force
personnel and the aerospace industry (Sherry, 1996, p. 113). John Correll, the

94

Editor-in-Chief of Air Force Magazine, the AFAs official monthly, conducted his
own analysis of The Crossroads script and corresponded directly with Tom Crouch
and the team that was responsible for drafting and revising the script to inform
them of the Associations concerns (Correll, 1994b). Correll also wrote numerous
letters to the Washington Post and the New York Times, criticizing the planned
exhibit (Correll, 1994b, 1994e).
In addition, Correll published a series of critical commentaries about the
exhibit in Air Force Magazine (Correll, 1994a, 1994c, 1994d, 1994f). In these
articles, he criticized not only the text of the exhibit script but also the
Smithsonians attitude toward Americas air and space achievements. More
specifically put, he analyzed that the Smithsonian had become anti airpower, its
exhibitions, including The Crossroads, were egregious attempts at disparaging the
Air Force and its military allies. He contended that behind NASMs critical exhibit
lay [t]he Smithsonian bureaucracy [that had] a history of not sharing the publics
enthusiasm for aircraft exhibits (Correll, 1994f, p. 28) particularly when it came to
those related to the military.
Correll believed that veterans had reason to be suspicious of the
Smithsonians motive in light of its (then) recent critical exhibit on the use of
airpower in World War I. He stated:
Of particular concern, and viewed as a possible indication of things to
come, is the last major military exhibition the Smithsonian organized. It is a
strident attack on airpower in World War I.
Legend, Memory, and the Great War in the Air. . . emphasizes the
horrors of World War I and take a hostile view of airpower in that conflict.
The vintage aircraft are used essentially as background props for the

95

political message. . . Two themes predominate: the carnage on the ground

and the unwholesomeness of military aviation. The military airplane is
characterized as an instrument of death. According to the curators,
dangerous myths have been foisted on the world by zealots and romantics.
(1994f, p. 26)
As the preceding quotations indicate, many of the Air Force Associations
criticisms of the planned Enola Gay exhibit were directed more at Smithsonians
alleged anti-airpower attitude, rather than at specific aspects of the script. As
Harwit wrote in his correspondence to Monroe Hatch, Jr., the Associations
Executive Director: [Y]ou and Air Force magazine have criticized the Museum in
broad terms. But you have never indicated specifically what changes you would
need to see in order to stop your opposition to [the exhibition script] (Harwit,
1994c).
The problem of the wrong place quickly reached Capitol Hill. As the
Smithsonians internal documents make clear, many members of both the House
and Senate, to whom the Smithsonian is a patronage, sent letters to Secretary
Adams, declaring that their constituencies were angry with the Smithsonian and
that NASMs critical commemoration was inappropriate ("[Additional recipients of
Secretary Adams' 8-16-94 letters]," 1994; Kohl, 1994). In September 1994, the
United States Senate adopted a resolution which reads, in part, as follows:
RESOLUTION
To express the sense of the Senate regarding the appropriate portrayal of
men and women of the Armed Forces in the upcoming National Air and
Space Museums exhibit on the Enola Gay.
Whereas the role of the Enola Gay during World War II was
momentous in helping to bring World War II to a merciful end, which
resulted in saving the lives of Americans and Japanese. . .

96

Whereas the Federal law states that the Smithsonian Institute shall
commemorate and display the contributions made by the military forces of
the Nation toward creating; developing, and maintaining a free, peaceful,
and independent society and culture in the United States;
Whereas the Federal law also states that the valor and sacrificial
service of the men and women of the Armed Forces shall be portrayed as
an inspiration to the present and future generations of America. . . Now,
therefore be it
Resolved, That it is the sense of the Senate that any exhibit
displayed by the National Air and Space Museum with respect to the Enola
Gay should reflect appropriate sensitivity toward the men and women who
faithfully and selflessly served the United States during World War II and
should avoid impugning the memory of those who gave their lives for
freedom. ("S. Res. 207," 1994)
This Senate resolution was drafted by Nancy Kassebaum, the Republican Senator
from Kansas. Several months before the passage of the Congressional resolution,
Senate Kassebaum wrote to Smithsonian Secretary Adams to voice her
displeasure over the museum for poor treatment of the Enola Gay. She wrote: For
44 years, the Smithsonian has been in possession of the historic plane [the Enola
Gay], and in that time it has never been properly and prominently displayed
(1994). She proudly acknowledged her states special interest in recognizing and
promoting aviation. Kassebaum had every reason to be concerned about the
seemingly anti-airpower sentiment in the Smithsonian that could hurt her own
political constituency:
Kansas. . . has a rich aviation history. During World War II, several B-29
training bases were located in the state. In fact, Brigadier General Paul W.
Tibbets, the pilot of the Enola Gay, first flew in a B-29 at the Boeing plant in
Wichita, Kansas. As the home state of Amelia Earhart, Walter Beech, Clyde
Cessna, and other aviation pioneers, Kansas has a well earned reputation
as the Air Capitol of the World. . . . (Kassebaum, 1994)

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Conspiracy Charge
The final line of argument raised in opposition to the Smithsonians
proposed exhibit was the charge of conspiracy. It was charged that The
Crossroads was a product of deeply entrenched anti-Americanism; the
Smithsonians hidden agenda was not (only) to disparage the nations airpower but
(also) to destroy whatever America stood for. The real question was, as W. A.
Garland (1994) noted, Who was actually behind the Smithsonians critical
exhibit? Many of those who were most concerned about the conspiracy issue
considered themselves to be real, patriotic Americans who represented
mainstream America. These included members of the nations congressional
majority (Republicans) and others who shared the same conservative American
values.
At least one critic believed that, in NASMs exhibit was motivated by certain
anti-American foreign interest. In December 1994, Republican Congressman
Sam Johnson from Texas issued the following press release, JOHNSON
EXPOSES JAPANESE INVOLVEMENT IN ENOLA GAY EXHIBIT:
Congressman Sam Johnson (R-Dallas) today. . . revealed that copies of the
scripts from the Enola Gay exhibit were being sent overnight to Japan
asking for a quick response.
We have been questioning the degree of Japans involvement in this
exhibit from the beginning. The scripts I have read certainly do not reflect
the proper American view of World War II. This piece of information only
further supports my belief that the Smithsonian does not have the best
interest of U.S. history in mind, said Congressman Johnson. ("Johnson
exposes," 1994)

98

Representative Johnson also suspected that other anti-American conspirators

were involved in the exhibit preparation. He interrogated Smithsonian Secretary
Michael Heyman regarding members of the museums staffs suspicious foreign
contact:
What is the significance, if any, to NASM Director Martin Harwits travel to
the Netherlands [?]. . . .
Why was Michael Neufeld, a Canadian National, hired by NASM?
What are his philosophical and political underpinning?
Why was Tom Crouch. . . assigned as a curator? Why was he
assigned to curate the American History Museum which focuses on the
internment of Japanese American Citizens?. . .
Why does Martin Harwit maintain an astrophysics laboratory in
NASM. . . dispatching staffers to Europe. . . when the Smithsonian already
has a similar lab in Cambridge, Massachusetts? (Johnson, 1995)
The majority of these conspiracy critics, however, were less concerned
about the influences of specific foreign countries than they were about radical
efforts to rewrite history in a more politically correct (PC) way. These critics were
opposed to individuals and groups who sought to reinterpret the past in order to
promote a strange radical ideology that decries the United States and the West as
hopelessly oppressive and that focuses on the reactionary prejudices of Western
culture (Berman, 1992, p. 2). These critics thought that The Crossroads was an
insidious political assault on the nations whole history that aimed to make
Americans feel ashamed of themselves and to make America look bad.
In the eyes of these conspiracy critics, NASMs critical exhibit was part of
the PC movement, which was led by liberal academics and their comrades, who
sugarcoat their anti-American political agenda with the fashionable terminology of
multiculturalism, postcolonialism, postmodernism and deconstruction (Yardley,

99

1994). It was for this reason that J. T. Chapin (1995) screamed, fire the
Smithsonian revisionists! in his San Antonio News-Express editorial. Pat
Buchanan (1995) agreed with Chapin as he reiterated America First! in the
context of the Smithsonian exhibition. In his Time editorial, Krauthammer (1995)
called for policing the PC revisionists who were housed in the nations taxsupported, premier cultural institution, and who were intent on hijacking history.
However, he warned, in the case of NASMs Enola Gay exhibit, policing might not
be enough, for:
[W]ith curators who could describe the Pacific war. . . For most
Americans. . . it was a war of vengeance. For most Japanese, it was a war
to defend their unique culture against Western imperialism, there was no
point of negotiation. You dont amend such tendentious anti-Americanism.
You kill it. (p. 90)
Writing in the Washington Post, Jonathan Yardley (1994) also referred to the same
passage from The Crossroads script and concluded that:
[T]he Air and Space museum meant to turn an exhibition of weapon of war
into a philippic not merely against war but against the United States. Lining
itself up with the zealots of academe who prowl the liberal arts departments
muttering against American imperialism, the Air and Space Museum was
prepared to use an exhibition of the technology of warfare as a springboard
to leap into generations of the most sweeping and insupportable nature. . .
Under precisely what authority is it seeking to engage in what can fairly be
called anti-American propaganda? (p. B2)
Newt Gingrich, then Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives, also saw the
exhibit as part of a liberal conspiracy when he declared, Political correctness may
be okay in some faculty lounge, but. . . the Smithsonian is a treasure that
belong[sic] to the American people and it should not become a plaything for leftwing ideologies ("A pared-down Enola Gay," 1995, p. D3). In a letter addressed to

100

Smithsonian Secretary Adams, Representative Peter Blute (1994), a Republican

from Massachusetts, criticized the scripts anti-American prejudice; this letter was
co-signed by 24 other congressional representatives.
The critics further contended that the Smithsonians historical revisionism
was scandalously insidious, for the Enola Gay controversy. . . is no isolated
incident. . . [T]he same dark vision of America as arrogant, oppressive, racist and
destructive increasingly runs through the Smithsonian complex (Leo, 1994, p. 21).
What was at stake in the controversy was not just a history of the atomic bombing
or the memory of some veterans; it was America that was being challenged by
Americas own Smithsonian Institution. George Will (1995) charged in the
Washington Post that:
The Smithsonian Institution, like the history standards, is besotted with the
cranky anti-Americanism of the campuses where the American left has
gone to lick its wounds, rationalize its irrelevance and teach the humanities
as an indictment of America as a blemish on Western civilization. . . Four
years ago the Smithsonian produced an art exhibit, The West as
America, wherein westward expansion was portrayed as an alloy of only
three elementscapitalist rapacity, genocide and ecocide.
He concluded:
And now the Smithsonian is hip deep in another morass of its own making.
For the 50th anniversary this August of Hiroshima, the Smithsonian is
planning to display the fuselage of the Enola Gay. . . The Smithsonian
wants to portray Japan as yet another victim of racist, imperialist America.
Said the Smithsonians initial script, For most Americans, this. . . was a war
of vengeance. For most Japanese it was a war to defend their unique
culture against Western imperialism. . . . (p. A25)

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The Road To Cancellation

The Crossroads was not a final, finished product. All museum exhibit scripts
go through a rigorous process of revision and correction, and NASMs critical
exhibit was no exception. Immediately after the release of the first version of the
Enola Gay script, the Smithsonian and the NASM curators began the long process
of script revision. Through this revision process the museum hoped to
accommodate diverse and critical reactions as much as possible. From the very
first planning meeting, it had been the Smithsonians position that the development
of a script for such a controversial exhibit would require get the widest possible
view on how the subject matter should be presented.
Moreover, while the majority of reactions that the Smithsonian received
were critical, Harwit later wrote that the NASM curators were strongly encouraged
by Akira Irye, a former President of the American Historical Society and one of
senior members of the exhibits Special Advisory Board. After reviewing the initial
script of The Crossroads, Irye concluded: [A]ll the statements are carefully written
and reflect the authors obvious intention to present as judicious an interpretation
of controversial events as possible. . . . Only irresponsible fanatics. . . would take
exception to the document (quoted in Harwit, 1997, p. 219).

Balancing The Crossroads

For the Smithsonian, the problem of textual imbalance was relatively less to
deal with. The objection had been raised mostly by military historians who knew

102

the subject matter as well as the script revision process. The fact that the
historians had carefully read the script themselves and had sent their comments
directly to NASM suggested that they had found some merit in The Crossroads.
These critics knew that The Crossroads was an early draft and that it was still
open to change. In addition, by the time NASM had started to receive responses,
NASM curators had already realized that textual balance was not possible to
achieve by themselves alone. As Harwit (1994a) wrote in a Smithsonian internal
memo:
All of us associated with the exhibition have always known that the most
difficult task before us would be to achieve accuracy and balance.
Though I carefully read the exhibition script a month ago, I evidently
paid greater attention to accuracy than to balance. Accuracy is somewhat
easier to check, at least for the aspects of the exhibition that are familiar.
Balance is more difficult to assess, since it requires an overview that allows
one to see the script as a whole. One reading apparently was not enough to
afford me that overview.
Despite their reservations regarding specific part of the script, none of these
critics indicated that that the Smithsonians desire to encourage Americans to
engage in thoughtful discussions as part of the 50th anniversary of the worlds first
atomic bombing was misdirected or misguided. For instance, while Nelson (1994)
objected to the scripts revisionist interpretation of Trumans decision to drop the
atomic bomb, for instance, he endorsed NASMs intentions: The subject of the
atomic bomb, he declared, is a legitimate historiographical controversy.
Members of the Tiger Team also understood the rationale behind NASMs
attempted forum exhibit, and their critical suggestions were, in fact, an
endorsement of the project: The textual imbalance in the script should be revised

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so that the controversy over the atomic bombing could be presented to visitors as
more debatable, i.e., an issue still open to discussion.
In order to correct the textual imbalances isolated by critics, the
Smithsonian added, excised and deleted materials and texts. For example, a
much criticized part of the introductory text quickly disappeared in the subsequent
version. The revised text read: For most Americans, this war was. . . to defeat a
vicious aggressor, but also a war to punish Japan for Pearl Harbor and for the
brutal treatment of Allied prisoners. For most Japanese, what had begun as a war
of imperial conquest had become a battle to save their nation from destruction
(Linenthal, 1996, p. 44).
Other revisions to improve the scripts textual balance were made. These
included the removal of two thirds of the pictures of atomic victims, the inclusion of
an equal number of pictures on both the United States and Japanese casualties,
the deletion of all speculative materials on Trumans decision to use the bomb, the
addition of pictures

of Japanese bombing during

its Asian campaigns,

comparisons of the hardships suffered by Japan with those endured by U.S. allies
in Europe and the Pacific, the inclusion of a copy of a telegram received by a
family announcing their sons death, the inclusion of pictures of gold star mothers,
yellow ribbons, etc (Harwit, 1994a).
As NASMs exhibit team continued to revise the script in response to
concerns about balance, the script gradually became more acceptable to those
who had initially raised the objections. By the summer of 1994, thirty-seven of the

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forty-two revisions suggested by the Tiger Team had been incorporated in the
revised version of the exhibit script. Most of the suggested revisions were
implemented fully; only five of them went unaddressed. Edward Linenthal (1996),
a non-military-affiliated member of the Special Advisory Board, reminisced:
Brigadier General David A, Armstrong (U.S. Army, retired), the director for
joint history, Office of the Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff wrote. . . that
some attempt has been made to address virtually every criticism raised at
the April 13 meeting. . . Revisionist interpretations no longer dominate
discussion of the political and diplomatic issues surrounding the use of the
Atomic Bomb. . . The script no longer reads a blanket indictment of the US
casting the Japanese as helpless victims. . . . On July 12, [Army] historian
Edward Drea. . . wrote the World War II Commemoration Committee, I find
the script more balanced than its predecessor. I still have reservations
about an imbalance of so many photographs of suffering Japanese women
and children. Are there no photographs of Japanese males? Alfred
Goldberg [an Air Force historian] proceeded to write Michael Neufeld
that. . . The issue of racism, strategic bombing policy, decision to drop the
bomb, and invasion casualties are handed with acceptable objectivity. . .
The section on the effects of the atomic bomb will no doubt continue to
draw critical comment as being too long, too detailed, and too sympathetic
to the Japanese, but the exhibit would be incomplete and much less
meaningful without it. (p. 45)
Veterans Demands
For the Smithsonian and NASM curators, the objections raised by other
critics were more difficult to resolve because they disputed NASMs script at its
most fundamental level: These critics believed that placing the Enola Gays
mission within a context of controversy was wrong, misdirected, and inappropriate
for the nations celebratory occasion. From the beginning, the Smithsonian had
anticipated that their approach to the exhibit would not please everybody. The
museums goal was to encourage visitors to commemorate the occasion through

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discussion and debate, not by solemn observance nor festive celebration. Thus,
the Smithsonian could not fully satisfy the veterans and their representatives
groups without abandoning its own objectives for the exhibit. As Crouch (1993)
wrote to Harwit in June 1993, a half year before the script was released: Do you
want to do an exhibition intended to make veterans feel good, or do you want an
exhibition that will lead our visitors to think about the consequences of the atomic
bombing of Japan? I dont think we can do both.
This did not mean, however, that the NASM curators ignored these
veterans voices. In order for the exhibit to better reflect the voices of those who
have special knowledge based on having been there (Harwit, 1997, p. 214),
NASM began working on materials to supplement the written texts shown in the
exhibit. For example, NASMs exhibit team began preparing a series of short films
directed and produced by Patti Woodside, the museums filmmaker. One of these
films would feature members of the crews of the Enola Gay and Bockscar [the B29 that took the Nagasaki mission] recalling their thoughts during the missions. (p.
213) The curators also planned to show newsreels from the World War II period
and to conduct interviews at the exhibitions exist, where half a dozen leading
personalities would express a variety of views on the bombing (p. 214). None of
these proposed changes, however, satisfied the veterans, their organizations or
and their sympathizers. Merely adding more materials that reflected veterans
voices and perspective on the events that surrounded the bombing was not what
they wanted.

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These critics made two specific demands regarding the text and context of
the exhibit, both of which the NASM curators found difficult to accommodate. First,
they demanded that the Smithsonian should change the entire focus of the exhibit.
The focus must be on the Enola Gay, its Hiroshima mission, and the first hand
accounts of various individuals who supported and experienced that mission. No
other materials were necessary. This point of view was particularly true for those
who had been personally attached to the Enola Gays mission. Tibbets and others
contended that the only proper way to commemorate this historic occasion was to
restore the Enola Gay and display it alone. If any (con)text were needed at all for
the Enola Gay, the critics suggested, it should only be positive. The exhibit should
show that [t]hose of us who gained that victory have nothing to be ashamed of
neither do we offer any apology. . . Many of us believe peace will prevail through
the strength and resolve of the United States of America (Tibbets, 1994). Rather
than inviting the American public to engage in debate and discussion by secondguessing Trumans decision, they contended that the Smithsonian should (only)
celebrate the positive aspects of the atomic bombing. Thus, Cooper (1994), an exB-29 pilot whose words quoted previously, stated that the script revisions made by
the NASM curators were grossly unsatisfactory, for they were merely cosmetic
and [did] not change the exhibitions focus (p. 18).
A second change demanded by these critics was that the Smithsonians
commemorative exhibit exclude any negative aspects of Americas war efforts.
This was what many of the veterans organizations contended. In the summer of

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1994, for instance, Thiesen (1994a), the American Legions National Commander,
indicated that the focus of veterans concerns has shifted from the aircraft to the
content and apparent bias of the exhibit itself. The exhibit, he declared,
[t]ake[n] as a whole, permits the unmistakable conclusion that Americas
enemy in the latter days of World War II was defeated and demoralized,
ultimately the victim of racism and revenge, rather than a ruthless
aggressor whose expansionist aims and war fever yielded more than a
decade of horror and death for millions of the worlds people.
Given the nature of these demands, even a perfectly balanced script that
stood the rigorous test by historians could not satisfy these veterans. In the first
place, even in the revised script(s) NASM still did not change the focus of its
exhibit. The Enola Gay and veterans memories were not the centerpiece. More
importantly, since the aim of the exhibit was still to encourage visitors to engage in
a controversy, the script necessarily had to contain information regarding both the
pros and cons of the atomic bombings. However, for the veteran groups, the
exhibition of any negative aspects of Americas war effort was an expression of
anti-Americanism. The Smithsonian had been sent a single, simple, and
unequivocal message: The Museum of the American Century could not become a
forum.

The Opposition Coalition

Almost from the moment that the National Air and Space Museum began to
discuss the idea of using the Enola Gay as part of a forum exhibit to
commemorate the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II, a coalition of

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opposition forces began to form. With the Air Force Association assuming a
leadership role, veterans organizations and individual veterans were organized
and a coordinated letter writing and media campaign was launched against the
Smithsonians planned exhibit (Muradian, 1995). For many of these critics, AFA
was virtually their only source of information. In July, 1994 when the Smithsonian
personnel met with representatives of the veterans organizations that were most
vocal in their oppositions to the proposed exhibit, they discovered that many of
these critics, in fact, knew little about the original script or its revisions. The
surprised Smithsonian staffers had to [provide] an overview of the exhibition,
[conduct] a question and answer session and [give them] a copy of the revised
exhibition script, with a request to let [them] have their detailed comments ("Script
update," 1994).
The AFA was not only the primary source of information for veterans, but it
was virtually the only source of information for the media and Capitol Hill critics of
the exhibit. After AFA put its clout behind a campaign against the exhibit. . .
influential editorial comments almost uniformly attacked the museum (Linenthal,
1996, p. 48). Many columnists and Congressional critics borrowed from the
materials used in AFAs press releases. For example, most critics of the exhibit
focused their criticisms exclusively on the same single passage from the original
script, i.e., For most Americans. . . it was a war of vengeance. For most
Japanese, it was a war to defend their unique culture against Western

109

imperialism, without making reference to any other parts of the script. As the
AFAs Correll (2004) proudly wrote:
AFA collected documentsours, theirs, letters from and to veterans,
papers of various activists. . . and provided copies to anyone who wanted
them: press, Congress, other veterans groups. . . In 1994 and 1995, we
sent out hundreds of copies of these collected documents, including the first
version of the script, which the museum had not managed to copyright.
(p.13)
These massive collections of documents reveals the extent to which the Air
Force Association lobbied many on Capital. These documents, now bounded
("The Enola Gay debate," 1995; "Enola Gay documents part II," 2000; "Enola Gay
documents part

III,"

2002), contain copies

of

its

correspondence with

congressional representatives. One such sample, addressed to the Office of

Senator Bob Dole dated July 21, 1994, read:
You may have seen material in the Washington Post and in other
publications regarding the controversy over the proposed exhibit of the
historic Enola Gay aircraft at the Smithsonians National and Air Space
Museum (NASM). Because you also may have received information from
NASM staff and other sources, the Association wanted to share our position
and supporting information with you.
The Association believes. . . that the proposed exhibit is politically
biased and reinterprets history in a manner that distorts the role of the
United States in World War II. The gravity of this distortion is exacerbated
by the portrayal of the United States as irresponsible in the use of nuclear
weapons to bring the War to conclusion thus saving both American and
Japanese lives. . . . AFA wanted to provide you with our report and analysis
on this important program. (Goss, 1994)
The documents also included letters from members of Congress thanking the Air
Force Association for directing attention to this Smithsonian affair and for
providing invaluable information to them on the subject. North Carolina
Representative Martin Lancasters letter was typical: Thank you for sending me

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the AFA materials on the Enola Gay controversy. They were very helpful to me. I
am enclosing a copy of my recent letter to the Secretary of the Smithsonian.
Please pass it along to any appropriate person at AFA (Lancaster, 1994). The
Associations Enola Gay Congressional mailing list contained the names and
addresses of more than 50 influential members of the U.S. House and Senate
("AFA congressional mailing list," [1994]).
The American Legion, the nations most powerful veterans organization,
joined the coalition of forces opposing the Enola Gay exhibit and for them the real
problem was anti-Americanism. Note the following words of William Detweiler
(1995), the American Legions National Commander, that echo those of Newt
Gingrich, George Will, and others:
[T]he Enola Gay controversy is only a symptom. Americans today harbor
real doubts about what we stand for a nation and who we are as a people.
Those doubts have forced some to second-guess indisputable facts that
underpin our history and heritage. If the soon-to-be-released National
Standards for U.S. History are approved by the National Education
Standards and Improvement Council, students will learn more about the
politically correct people, places and events while they skip over Alexander
Graham Bell, Thomas Edison and the Wright brothers.
Certainly this country is a nation of immigration, founded by people
of different ideologies, religions and ethnicities. But there is one thing they
shared: a set of values that set this country apart. In the past few years, we
have become increasingly concerned about the crisis of American values.
The Enola Gay was the first test of our resolve to address this issue.
Our next campaign will be [to] overturn the 1989 Supreme Court
decision that made flag burning legal. (p. A21)
For this coalition of critics, NASMs assigned role was to be a speaker of
modern national epideicticto be a place where the nations heroes and heroines
in aerial warfare would be emcomiastically praised. As such, its commemorative

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exhibit, with or without the Enola Gay, must not include anything that would
question Americas airpower, particularly in relation to the nations Good War.
Nowhere in this space should critical discourse be allowed, for it would be
detrimental to education of Americans. And in the critics eyes, The Crossroads
was an obvious violation of NASMs founding principle. As Luanne Smith, a US
Navy Commander and a staff member of the World War II Commemoration
Committee involved in the Smithsonians script revision, noted this position of the
AFA and

other

veterans

organizations

ultimately

doomed

the

NASMs

commemorative exhibit:
I remain convinced that the Air Force Associations objections to the script
had a good deal to do with Air Force fears of showing the horror of the use
of nuclear weapons, which could revive anti-nuclear feelings among the
people. . . [T]he AFA wants the message to be the Air Force won the war.
Given the exhibit they wanted, I dont think any script would have met their
approval. (quoted in Linenthal, 1996, p. 47)
The Last Act
In retrospect, what the Smithsonian did to deal with these demands had
unfortunate devastating consequences. In the early summer of 1994, Harwit
invited prominent veterans groups to discuss problems that they had with the
script. These included representatives of VFW, the Retired Officers Association
(TROA), the American Legion, and others ("Script update," 1994). Through these
meetings, veterans organizations became increasingly influential in NASMs script
revisions and their influence began to even override the authority of the military
service historians. The curators past efforts to satisfy the historians complaints

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about balance by the judicious adding, excising and deleting of materials and
texts was insufficient to satisfy the veterans coalition. This time the curators were
asked to be even more aggressive in excising and deleting negative materials.
The veterans demanded more than textual balance and more than a change in
focus. Instead, they demanded that most, if not all, parts of the exhibit script that
contained negative implications for the nations airpower be removed, because
they were anti-American. In response to the Smithsonians increasing
acquiescence to these demands, Stanley Goldberg, a historian of science,
resigned from the exhibits Advisory Board, stating that he was troubled by the
museums willingness to cast aside fifty years of solid, hard-headed scholarship
[on the history of World War II and of atomic bombing]. . . I simply cannot be a
party to the exhibit which has now emerged from the Air Force Associations
crusade (quoted in Linenthal, 1996, p. 51).
One example of such accommodation was found in the treatment of the
exhibits second unit, The decision to drop the bomb, particularly the section
discussing Trumans decision to drop the bomb under the heading or sidebar
called Historical Controversies. In their initial script review, service historians
objected to this sections overemphasis on revisionist interpretations of the event.
NASM curators revised the script and the military historians were satisfied. The
opposition coalition felt otherwise, however. They thought that the same section
needed further revision and NASM eventually obliged. According to Harwits script
update circulated during the same summer:

113

Specific. . . comments from the VFW and TROA have largely found
accommodation in the script. . . One such theme is President Trumans
decision to drop the bomb, and the alternatives that were open to him. The
comments we received judged these sections to be speculative. We have,
therefore, eliminated a great deal of the discussion. . . As part of their
recommendation on this topic, the VFW also asked for an elimination of a
series of side-bars that focused on Historical Controversies. We agree that
these served no urgent purpose and have taken them out. (Script update,
1994, emphasis added)
Another example of the veterans demand for further revision/deletion was
found in the same document circulated by Harwit. This time, the focus of the
opposition coalition was not on the atomic bombing; it was not even about World
War II. Their target for deletion was the scripts final section, The legacy of
Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This unit discussed the implications of World War II
strategic (atomic) bombing for the Cold War, no substantial revision had been
recommended by service historians:
A second set of items that were suggested for deletion were the post-war
nuclear arms race, questions of nuclear proliferation, arms control, and
mutually assured destruction. The question was raised whether these were
suitable themes for an exhibition that deal with the Enola Gay. Like so many
other matters, this is a question of judgement[sic]. But I note that Gen.
Tibbets book Flight of the Enola Gay does discuss these issues, indicating
that the officer most closely associated with the Enola Gay considered them
important. I realize that our treatment here is not complete. But leaving the
topics unmentioned altogether would probably be criticized even more than
including them. ("Script update," 1994)
Although Harwit and the Smithsonian curators initially resisted the
oppositions demand for deletion, by January 1995 when the final version was
completed, the entire 36 pages that had constituted The legacy of Hiroshima in
the first draft script disappeared. The message that this deletion conveyed was
clear and straightforward: NASM would not deal with after Hiroshima. The new

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final section was only 9-page long and titled, Japan surrenders. ("The last act,"
1995) Instead of presenting issues relevant to the nuclear arms race, nuclear
proliferation, and arms control, this new section featured first-hand accounts by
American soldiers of the atomic bombing. To emphasize that there is no
afterwards, the exhibit script concluded the words of a U.S. soldier that read:
My ship was allocated to the diversionary assault on the island of Shikoku
the day before the main assault on Kyushu. I and other 48 members of my
amphibious ship felt we were assigned to a suicide mission. Harry Trumans
decision to drop the bomb was most welcome by us. ("The last act," 1995,
p. 151, emphasis in original)
In order to better reflect the revised scripts content, the title for the exhibit
was also changed. Originally titled, The Crossroads: The End of World War II, the
Atomic Bomb, and the Origin of the Cold War, it was renamed, The Last Act: The
Atomic Bomb and the End of World War II. The phrase the Origin of the Cold War
was dropped from the title, in an attempt to separate the use of atomic bomb and
the beginning of the Cold War. Moreover, the words, the Crossroads, were
removed and replaced by the Last Act in order to deemphasize any relationship
between the dropping of the atomic bombs and the post World War II nuclear arms
race.
By late 1994, NASMs preparation for the commemorative exhibit was
nearly complete. The idea of a critical exhibit was almost completely abandoned.
The museum staff was engaging in the development of The Last Act, not as a
forum, but as a speaker of national epideictic. However, the real last act came
from the Smithsonian itself, and it was indeed an abrupt ending. On January 30,

115

1995, I. Michael Heyman, the Smithsonian Secretary, issued an official statement

canceling the exhibit (Heyman, 1995). In his statement, he apologized to the critics
and promised that he would be personally responsible for curating a replacement
exhibit from scratch.

Chapter Summary
This chapters analysis of the trajectory of the Enola Gay controversy
revealed that the idea of a critical commemoration put forth by the Smithsonian
was ultimately defeated. The objections raised against The Crossroads were
diverse, and each reflected the critics interests in the Enola Gays mission, World
War II and its aftermath, and American aviation and its place in American culture.
While veterans voices that called for respecting and honoring their efforts,
hardships, and nuclear memories constituted a significant force in the coalition
opposition against the Smithsonian, what ultimately determined the fate of The
Crossroads was the problem of NASMs assigned role.

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CHAPTER 5
CONCLUSIONS

Having analyzed the rhetorical trajectory of the controversy within the

context of its occurrence, it is the purpose of this chapter to address three
research questions posed at the outset of this dissertation. Because of the way in
which these research questions are framed, answering them will require not only
yes/no answers that come directly from the analysis in the preceding chapters. It
also necessitates discussion of the analysis implications, which this chapter will
engage as well. The chapter then proceeds to discuss limitations of the analysis
undertaken in this study and ends with the overall conclusion I wish to give to this
study.

The Issues
Research Question 1: Research Question 1: What were the issues that
dominated the Enola Gay controversy?
The first purpose of this dissertation has been to analyze the problems of
communication exhibited in the Enola Gay controversy. By placing the controversy
within the context of its own occurrence, an attempt was made to expose issues
that were germane to the specific rhetorical practices that NASM proposed to use
in its exhibition. From this vantage point, the study found that there were three
major issues that emerged and dominated the fate of the Smithsonians planned
exhibit. In order to fully understand the significance of the Enola Gay controversy,

117

these issues should not be viewed as wholly separate. These issues carried
different weight in determining the fate of The Crossroads, and as the controversy
developed, some lines of criticisms became inextricably intertwined and even
contradictory.

Textual Imbalance
First, there was the issue of The Crossroads textual balance. The
Smithsonian appointed reviewers were concerned that the original script went too
far in presenting the allegedly Japanese perspective on the history of World War
II and the atomic bombings. In order to better balance the exhibit, the reviewers
suggested that greater attention be given to such negative Japanese wartime
practices as the Kamikaze suicide attacks and their devastating consequences.
Drea and Nelson, two Army historians, called for a fuller discussion of the
atrocities caused by Japans Imperial Army before and during the war. Other
reviewers voiced concerns regarding the scripts excessive photographic
depictions of the suffering civiliansparticularlywomen and childrenby the
atomic bombs.
Further

criticism

was

directed

at

the

Smithsonians

revisionist

interpretation of President Trumans decision to use the atomic bomb. Hallion, an

Air Force historian, criticized The Crossroads for overemphasizing the Soviet
factor in Trumans decision and ignored other factors such as FDRs prior
involvement in, and influence over, this historic decision. The Tiger Team

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complained that, as presently written, these controversies could lead the viewing
public to conclude that the decision to drop the A-Bomb was questionable
(perhaps unjustified?) rather than debatable (still open to discussion).
It is important to note that these objections were raised primarily by military
service historians who knew the subject matter of the exhibition well. In addition,
their objections were informed by their own professional readings of the script. For
these critics, the problems of communication resided primarily in the text of
NASMs planned exhibit. Thus, for military historians who objected to The
Crossroads, the problem was primarily a matter of textuality.
It should be further noted that concerns about imbalance ceased to be an
issue early in the controversy. This occurred for two reasons. In the first place, the
Smithsonian and NASM curators agreed with the shortcomings pointed out by the
historians, and they corrected the imbalances in the subsequent scripts. Second,
the military historians did not go beyond criticizing imbalances within the draft
script. However, they believed it was essential for the Smithsonian to correct the
imbalances in order for the exhibit to achieve its communication goal of stimulating
discussion and reexamination of major controversial decisions made during World
War II.
On the other hand, the Smithsonians failure to provide a balanced historical
account in the first draft did have devastating consequences. Even after the
imbalances were corrected in later revisions of The Crossroads script, many
syndicated columnists (such as Will, Krauthammer, and Yardley) and members of

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Congress continued to refer to certain unfortunate lines from the original draft in
order to prove the existence of the Smithsonians anti-American conspiracy. In
this way, the issue of textual imbalance became intertwined with the anti-American
conspiracy argument. The repeated use by the media and Congressional critics of
the same selected passages from the original script (For most Americans. . . it
was a war of vengeance. For most Japanese, it was a war to defend their unique
culture against Western imperialism.) suggests that most, if not all, of these critics
had not read the original exhibit script in its entirety and that they had not read any
of the revised scripts. They frequently cited quotations from the original script in
the Air Force Associations early and voluminous press materials, and these
materials apparently became the primary source for most of the statements made
by columnists and Congressional critics. Or, these critics might have read
between the lines only, for, these passages had already been removed from the
script before they initiated the media campaign against the Smithsonian in late
July 1994.

Place and Mission

The second issue concerned the place of exhibit and the incompatibility
between the planned exhibits forum purpose and the National Air and Space
Museums institutionally assigned mission. Because [t]he atomic bombing served
as one of the dominant symbols of the Second World War and the cold war and
because politicians, diplomats, intellectuals, writers, and the general public

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struggled to cope with the implications of this weapon (Piehler, 1995, p. 146), the
curators at the Smithsonian and NASM thought that a forum format, as proposed
in The Crossroads script, would be an effective way to stimulate reflection and
discussion about many of the controversies that surround the use of air power and
the atomic bomb in modern warfare.
For many World War II veterans, however, the only message appropriate
for NASM to communicate was that the Enola Gay saved lives. Period. What
they expected the Smithsonian to do was to present this simple and, they
believed, unequivocal historical fact. They did not want a series of controversies.
The American Legion stated that the problem with The Crossroads was not merely
its historical presentation of the Enola Gay mission; a more significant problem
was the planned exhibits whole message that would encourage visitors to
reexamine and debate Americas war efforts. Many Congressional representatives
and syndicated columnists charged that the Smithsonians effort to stimulate
controversy was a part of an anti-American conspiracy, because NASMs
planned exhibit did not accurately reflect so-called American values. And the AFA
harshly criticized the Smithsonian, because The Crossroads script posed a threat
to the Air Forces own vested interest in military aircraft and the aerospace
industry. According to Navy Commander Smith, all that the AFA wanted the exhibit
to do was to state that Air Force won the war.
Historically, NASM has been a promoter of the nations aviation and space
development. In the words of Barry Goldwater, it is a speaker of national

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epideictic, a Gettysburg speech already written by Americas air and space

heroes and heroines. Aviation and space flight provide Americans with a parcel of
the national experience and imagination. Americas achievements in air and space
are realizations of uniquely American values and questioning these values is
unacceptable at NASM. In order to fulfill its epideictic mission, NASM was told not
to encourage any second thoughts or second guessing regarding the role of
airpower in the nations Good War.
Interestingly, the issue of mission contradicted the issue of textual
imbalance raised by the military historians. If debate was not what visitors were
supposed to engage in NASMs exhibit space, there was no need to balance the
script;

only

positive

materials

that

evidenced

Americas

airpower

and

achievements were appropriate. The veterans adamantly demanded the deletion

of materials in The Crossroads script. Their intention was to eliminate
controversies, not to equalize the ground for a more balanced presentation and
discussion of issues.
For veterans and their supporters, NASM was not a place for cultural
memory, a sphere of contested meanings; there should be no contestation in its
exhibit space. Exhibiting controversy is inadmissible, because it contradicts the
museums Contract with America. Thus, The Crossroads was not an exhibit that
fit the museums assigned mission. Because it was a public institution and a
supplicant for governmental patronage, the Smithsonian had to be sensitive to its
public mission. In the eyes of many critics, The Crossroads exhibit violated the

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mission assigned to NASM by its particular legislative and political history. This
was evidenced by the critics references to part of the Smithsonian charters.
According to Horowitzs reading of this statute, the NASM exhibit strayed far off
course. The Senate resolution that condemned the planned exhibit was based on
an interpretation of federal law. Whether these statutory interpretations were valid
or not, the fact remains that the Smithsonians perceived violation of its institutional
mission became an issue.
Since its inception, NASM had willingly submitted itself to this assigned role.
The Smithsonian understood that Americas air and space genius had to be
promoted so no failures, such as airplane crashes or wartime losses, had ever
been present in its exhibit space, and NASM had avoided exhibiting Vietnam War
aircraft for the same reason. In doing so, the Smithsonian had succeeded in
maintaining the museums ethos, i.e., its credibility as a public communicator. As
Aristotle noted, the ethos of a speaker is constituted through ones own discourse
(Aristotle, 1991). This is particularly true for speakers of epideictic, for, their
discourses always have to be worthy of their causes. As Isocrates (1929) wrote:
[W]hen anyone elects to speak or write discourse which are worthy of
praise and honour, . . . he will support. . . those which are great and
honourable, devoted to the welfare of man and our common good; for if he
fails to find causes of this character, he will accomplish nothing to the
purpose. (p. 337-339)
The planned Crossroads exhibit was not the American epideictic that many
Americans expected the National Air and Space Museum to offer. And the critical

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reactions to it revealed that the issue of place and mission was far more important
than the Smithsonian had expected it to be. As Young (1996) observes:
It was only when views that challenged the heroic national narrative
appeared in such a sanctified public space that there was plenty of
responses, mostly in the form of outrage. Public, tax-supported,
government-supported space separates official history from the maundering
of scholars in their classrooms, journals, and annual meetings. (p. 206)
Timing and Commemoration
The final issue that emerged in the Enola Gay controversy had to do with
the timing of the exhibit and the specific occasion that it was supposed to
commemorate. Critics argued that The Crossroads script failed appropriately
commemorate the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II and the dropping of
the worlds first atomic bomb. Veterans organizations attacked NASMs planned
exhibit for its failure to fully recognize the contributions and sacrifices made by
American military forces during the war.
A particularly strong voice of objection came from those who were
personally attached to the Enola Gays mission. Tibbets, the Enola Gay pilot,
exclaimed that The Crossroads was a package of insult and demanded that the
Smithsonian display the Enola Gay properly and alone, for all the world to see.
Dorr suggested that the way to exhibit the aircraft was to put it where people can
see it, period. . . without social commentary. Other veterans of the Pacific theater
wanted the Enola Gay and their memories of the atomic bombing to be the
centerpiece of the exhibit. One such veteran demanded that NASM should
commemorate the bombing as the happiest day for this proud American.

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Another critic was unhappy with NASMs planned exhibit because it did not
adequately represent what his father, a World War II veteran, used to say, Thank
God for the atomic bomb.
The issue of commemorative occasion, as exemplified by these reactions,
required more sweeping revision of the exhibit script than was called for in
response to either of the other two issues. These critics who advanced this issue
demanded that the Smithsonian change the entire focus of its planned exhibit. All
that they asked for was an exhibit that should speak for anyone else but veterans
themselves. As Schwartz (1982) has noted, commemorating and chronicling
are two distinct forms of communication, and that distinction mattered crucially in
the Enola Gay controversy:
Our memory of the past is preserved mainly by means of chronicling, the
direct recording of events and their sequence. However, the events
selected for chronicling are not all evaluated in the same way. To some of
these events we remain morally indifferent; other events are
commemorated, i.e., invested with an extraordinary significance and
assigned a qualitatively distinct place in our conception of the past. Put
differently, chronicling allows for the marking and preservation of the
historically real; commemoration, which is the evaluative aspect of
chronicling, celebrates and safeguards the ideal. Commemoration lifts from
an ordinary historical sequence those extraordinary events which embody
our deepest and most fundamental values. Commemoration. . . is in this
sense a register of sacred history. (1982, p.377)
These veterans reacted harshly to the Smithsonian, not necessarily because the
script misrepresented history or their war memories. They objected to the planned
exhibit because, no matter how balanced or inclusive its narrative might be, its
purpose was only to chronicle historic not to commemorate them.

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For the veterans of the Pacific theater, the 50th anniversary of Hiroshima
and Nagasaki was the occasion that marked their own commemoration and all the
Smithsonian had to do was to simply serve that commemoration. As Cooper, a
World War II veteran, stated, script revisions made by the NASM curators were
merely cosmetic changes. Military historians suggested that the Smithsonian
should provide a better and more balanced chronicling of events. To many
veterans, however, such suggestions were largely irrelevant, because what they
wanted was a communicative act that would celebrate and safeguard their own
memories, honor and American pride.

Further Observations
The foregoing issue analysis demonstrated the difficulty of trying to
determine which, if any one of these three, issues was decisive in the Enola Gay
controversy. While imbalance in the Smithsonians presentation of history became
an issue, it is not history per se that was at stake in the Enola Gay controversy.
The Crossroads was script not for a mere history show (Goldberger, 1996) and,
contrary

to

Newmans

(1995,

2004)

analysis,

the

Smithsonians

(mis)representation of history did not emerge as the major issue that influenced
the controversys direction. At the same time, the Enola Gay controversy was not
just another debate over memory (Biesecker, 2003; Prosise, 1997, 1998); nor was
it concerned primarily with problems of (tele)visual (re)presentation (Cripps, 1998;
Taylor, 1998). What my analysis reveals is that major issues in the Enola Gay

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controversy were ones that were germane to the particular communicative practice
of a particular institution of communication at a particular moment in time. In other
words, problems of communication that dominated the controversy had to do with
the specific context of its occurrence. While veterans war memories or
photographic representation of ground zero did come to surface as problems in
the rhetorical trajectory, their significance should be evaluated and assessed
within the context of the controversy over the Smithsonians exhibit preparation
and script development which itself was contextualized in a particular legislative
and political history.
In addition, the study also revealed that it was the intertwinement of these
issues that complicated and dictated the direction of the Enola Gay controversy.
For instance, the problem of anti-Americanism encompassed many of the
objections raised against The Crossroads and the Smithsonian. This confirms the
merit of Bieseckers conjunctural analysis (2003) that attempted a reading of the
controversy as a part of a larger political and discursive field. As she noted in her
2002 Quarterly Journal of Speech article, at the turn of the 20th century, American
cultural discourse was dominated by what she called a theme of the return to
World War II, a thinly veiled conservative response to the contemporary crisis of
national identity, to our failing sense of what it means to be an American and to do
things the so-called American way (2002, p. 406).
In fact, the critical reactions raised against the Smithsonian were, most
likely, part of this particular discursive theme. In the first place, commemoration is

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inherently a political act, for it assumes consensus that serves the present by
manufacturing it. It involves the coordination of individual and group memories,
whose results may appear consensual when they are in fact the product of
processes of intense contest, struggle, and in some instances, annihilation (Gillis,
1994, p. 5). The Smithsonian intended The Crossroads to be an exhibit to mark,
remember, and discuss the history of the atomic bombing that ended World War II.
This, however, posed a great threat to those who had vested interest in the Good
War, because it could destabilize the nations (Cold War/post World War II)
consensus to be commemorated at its 50th anniversary. Another important factor
was NASMs publicly assigned mission and function as a rhetorical agent, i.e., a
speaker of national epideictic to glorify Americans air and space power. Because
the only function accorded to the museum was to encomiastically praise the
nations air and space heroes and heroines particularly in the context of the 20th
century aerial warfare, nothing should prevent this national commemoration in its
exhibit space.
While the Good War itself did not become an issue to be raised against
the Smithsonian and its exhibit, there is no doubt that the theme of the return to
World War II underlay many of the critical objections analyzed in the preceding
chapter. This study demonstrated, however, that a critical analysis of such an
ideological theme was possible without resorting to conjunctural analysis; a case
study of the Enola Gay controversy within the backdrop of its occurrence served

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the same critical purpose of cultural and ideology criticism, the potential of which I
wish to show as I turn to the remainder of the research questions below.

Museums as Forums: Their Potentials and Limits

Research Question 2: What does the Enola Gay controversy tell us about
potential problems involved in using museums as forums approach?
Forum versus Epideictic
This study revealed rhetorical potentials as well as problems with the idea
of museum as forum, the organizing metaphor for communication currently
dominant among public museums in the United States. As Secretary Heyman
ironically stated in his official announcement of the Enola Gay exhibit cancellation,
the Smithsonian is a public forum. And it is clear that The Crossroads was written
and prepared for an exhibit that most appropriately fits such forums. Perceiving the
50th anniversary of the atomic bombing as opportunity for critical engagement,
NASM sought to transform itself into a forum as its obligation to contribute to the
nations total cause of education. The intent behind the Smithsonians planned
exhibit was clear and straightforward: To encourage the American public not only
to remember, but also to reexamine and debate, this historic event.
As described in Chapter 3, The Crossroads was hardly a cabinet of
curiosities. Nor was it a (manu)script to be read silently and memor(ial)ized by
visitors. It was a series of chronologically organized discussion topics where
documents, displays and artifacts would serve as food for thought and, unlike in
museums as temples, no absolute, sacred, and ready-made Truth was to be found

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in The Crossroads. Instead, visitors were to adopt a mode of inquiry and to

become engaged in critical discoursetesting, contesting, creating, and recreating
a reality by themselves in a discursive web of multiple reality and truth. By
exhibiting controversy and inviting visitors to participate in it, the Smithsonian
attempted to make a difference in the nations political culture in which
discussions of the atomic bombing and its implications were so often shunned in
the past.
The critical reactions raised against the Smithsonian demonstrated,
however, that the idea of forum that was embedded in The Crossroads did not
seem to have had a universal appeal. In the first place, given their unique
character and place in American political culture, the Smithsonian museums
cannot become forums at their own will. This is particularly true for NASM. The
only genre of rhetoric that NASM is authorized to perform is that of epideictic
encomiastically praising Americas air and space heroes and heroines; no
questions or debates are allowed regarding the questions of the nations genius
and achievements. More importantly, the history of the atomic bombing, with which
that the Enola Gay is symbolically associated, is already controversial outside the
museum. Americas nuclear memory inevitably takes the form of discursive
contestation and struggle, and this was the very reason why Senator Goldwater
and others did not want the Enola Gay to be exhibited. Putting this particular part
of American history into a forum and communicating it publicly was even less

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acceptable to many of those who did not want any controversy in the first place!
As Kuznik (1994) has correctly observed:
A lingering question is how to portray instruments of war. Should it be
enough to put them on display with a simple identification label, or do they
demand the kind of context and explanation that can embroil an institution
in a potentially damaging controversy? And what is the proper role of the Air
& Space Museumto glorify aeronautics and aviation, no matter what its
application, or to evaluate it with a contemporary critical eye? (p. 8)
Museums New Identity Crisis
It is important to be reminded that, when Cameron first introduced the idea
of forum to the American museum community, what he meant was a kind of
psychotherapy, a proscription to identity crisis it was suffering in the 1970s.
From the chaos and conflict of todays forum the museum must build the
collections that will tell us tomorrow who we are and how we got there. After all,
thats what museums are all about (Cameron, 1971/2004, p. 73). Going through
metamorphosis in the 1980s, American museums had found Camerons idea as a
fitting descriptive metaphor, as well as a normative guiding principle, for their
practices of public communication. At the turn of this past century, however, the
nations museum community, particularly history museums, seem to be once again
facing an identity crisis (Cain, 1995), and the crisis this time is more complex
than the one suffered three decades ago. The current crisis is exemplified by the
Enola Gay controversy.
First, the current identity crisis has to do with problems of split personality
within and among museums. As Cameron noted, a society needs both temples

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and forums, hence both forms of museums are necessary. Yet, one cannot
become both at the same time. Each museum has its own unique mission and
purpose and, thus, the idea of forum does not necessarily apply to any and all
communicative practices of exhibition. And attempt to perform both functions at
the same time makes its communicative practice of exhibition even less
meaningful.
This study demonstrated that NASM could not be, and cannot be, a forum
in any meaningful sense, because it cannot be completely free from its own history
and/or its own past discourse. NASM could, for instance, launch an exhibit that
would encourage visitors to debate purely technical matters regarding the
physical effects of the atomic bomb without making reference to any historical,
diplomatic, and political contexts, just as some scientists in the Manhattan Project
debated and bet on the size of the [atomic] explosion in order to relax and relieve
tension at its test site (Bird & Sherwin, 2005, p. 96). Anything that went beyond
this, however, would be unacceptable and only staging such purely technical
controversies in its exhibit space would contribute little to the nations total cause
of education; visitors can debate technical matters in a science classroom at
school without coming to the museum, for example. In retrospect, it is unrealistic to
expect that exhibiting the development, use and implications of the atomic
bombing as a series of controversies could ever be possible in a museum where
nothing negative about American genius and achievements in air and space can
be allowed.

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Second, the current identity crisis in the museum community is accelerated

by Americas wanting a certain kind of truth. Museums as forums never reject the
quest for truth. Rather, the idea of forum is based upon the belief that truths are to
be uncovered, discovered and created by visitors themselves in open space of
museums. The teaching of interpretive skepticism through exhibition is not the
same thing as promoting and encouraging nihilism among visitors; it does not
mean the destruction of human integrity and identity. The kind of truth that forums
can provide is epistemic, a product of argumentation whose goal is geared toward
intersubjective validation of knowledge claims (Scott, 1967). Museums, as forums,
urge visitors to adopt a mode of inquiry, critically interrogating displays and
participating in debate, discussion, and controversy. Epistemic truth requires
visitors critical thinking on and, involvement in, museum exhibits. The American
culture is inherently dynamic, vital, and competitive; hence critical discourse often
results in disorder, discord, and cacophony. Yet, as Geither (1992) contends,
[o]ut of this resulting cacophony, new forms and ideas are born. Criticisms,
interpretations, reassessments of values, claims, and counterclaims abound,
and out of the muck come impressions of who we are as a people.
Museums are important contributors to this dynamic process. (p. 59)
In addition to epistemic truth, museums as forums can also offer aletheia,
another Greek word for truth, literally translated as unhiddenness (Hariman,
1986). Museums as forums are places where many truths are revealed and
uncovered. The Crossroads exhibit, for instance, can be understood as the
Smithsonians attempt at making the history of the atomic bombing naked. The
stated purpose of the exhibition was to revive and revitalize discussions that

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were so often shunned in the past and expose them to the public for
engagement. The exhibit contained (too) many graphic representations of the
bombing that many Americans had never seen before. In fact, the history the
NASM curators presented in its script was so naked that The Crossroads was
initially designated as a parental-discretion-advised exhibit.
The analysis of the Enola Gay exhibit leads to the conclusion, however, that
the truth that the American public wants to find in history museums is neither
episteme nor alethiea but doxa. Doxa refers to community based knowledge, what
people in a given community take to be true or want to be true and want to be
truthful to. Doxa also has to do with opinion, reputation, expectation, regard, or
fame that is valued in the community (Clark, 1996; McKerrow, 1989; Poulakos,
2001). Most importantly, doxa is created by acts of concealment (Hariman, 1986)
and, thus, it is to be contrasted with alethiea, truth as the unhiddenness, rather
than episteme. Hariman (1986) writes:
[D]oxa and aletheia are different stages in the production of meaning. This
dynamic of concealment and unconcealmentof authorizing and
marginalizingis the means by which we determine what we believe, what
we know, and what we believe to be true. And the identification of a
discourse as the manifestation of doxa means that it cannot be wholly laid
bare, known in its entirety, without ceasing to exist. The unconcealing of the
discourse does not show us what is containsrather, it transforms it into
another type of discourse (such as alethiea). . . Consider the analogy of
our clothing; clothes create meaning by concealment, for they cover the
body to disclose its intention, and in covering identify the individual in
respect to the social body. They reveal only by suggestion, yet when they
are removed, the interior or hidden meaning disappears, and a persons
identity can be reconstructed only by reference to the external society. So
it is with doxa; although we can know the truth by bringing things out of
unconcealment, complete disclosure would exhaust our means of knowing
at all. (p. 50)

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What is exposed in the Enola Gay controversy are problems regarding the
dynamic that creates and maintains doxa, i.e., rhetorical operation and negotiation
of concealment and unconcealment, through museum exhibits. As observed
earlier, NASMs epideictic rhetoric works as exclusion. It was this exclusion that
disabled and limited the museums capacity to function as a public forum. This was
also evidenced by the fact that many of the revisions that the NASM curators had
to make to their script (particular during the latter half of the exhibit preparation)
took the form of deletion. More specifically, The Crossroads was excluded from
NASMs exhibit space, because the exhibit sought to provide a place for episteme
(intersubjective truth) by way of aletheia (truth by unconcealment), instead of
offering doxa which the Smithsonian itself had maintained since its inception. The
idea of forum embraced in NASMs planned exhibit was defeated, not only
because a controversy was out of place in the national epideictic of air and space
but also because exhibiting a controversy in a (seemingly) open space would have
had to expose what had previously been hidden to its visitors. This is a museumas-forums dangerous potential that capitalizes on the inherent insecurity and
vulnerenability of doxa, a truth created by the act of concealment. Simply put,
many of the Smithsonians critics did not want Americans to be exposed to a
particular part of the nations history, let alone think about it and debate it.
Cavanagh (1994) criticized the museums critics in just such terms during the
midst of the Enola Gay controversy:
[NASM] might be wrong about the historical scenario. . . , wrong about the
best way to present the exhibit, wrong about the sensibilities necessary to

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bring off such a difficult bit of national history. . . Yet, Harwit is trying to work
through the historical and political difficulties and is well aware of their
distinct origins. Whether right or wrong, his critics. . . have no such
awareness. Some call for accuracy and disclosure, but not one of them,
judging from their tone, would be the least bit sorry if the argument simply
disappeared. (p. A19)
Reclaiming Truth(s) in Museum Exhibition
One implication that can be drawn from this study is that there exist certain
parts of American history that are not only beyond debate and discussion but also
beyond exposition and exhibition in public space. This is a confirmation of a
mundane but significant fact of life, and the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and
Nagasaki is a prime example. As Ted Stevens, a Republican Senator from Alaska,
stated in the Senate Hearings (which he himself chaired) held after the
cancellation of the exhibit: I do not want my grandson to walk out of that museum
and ask me. . . why did I [sic] try to kill Japanese babies (Smithsonian
management guidelines, 1995, p. 64). What concerned Senator Stevens about the
Smithsonians aborted exhibit was not necessarily that his grandson would reach
certain conclusions (episteme) as a result of debate and discussion that occurred
within the exhibit space. Rather, he feared that, while going through the exhibit, his
grandson would be exposed to aletheia he was not supposed to know.
Senator Stevens is not an isolated example. Many Americans want to make
the atomic bombing a history so that the next generation can, and should, safely
dispose of it and forget it. President Reagan commemorated the 40th anniversary
of World War II by celebrating American patriotism, freedom, and the boys of

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Normandybut not Nagasaki (Reagan, 1985). In his farewell address, he warned

of an eradication of the American memory, spirit and history, and he referred to
the Pilgrims, the Tokyo Raid, and Omaha Beach, but not to Hiroshima (Reagan,
1989). In addition, this is not an issue of right versus left in the nations political
spectrum. Neither Mosers The Politically Correct Guide to American History
(1996) nor Woods The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History (2004), for
instance, mentions the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in their
respective American (hi)stories. It is as if nothing important happened on August 6
and 9, 1945. The problematic, namely, has more to do with right or wrong as
Americans. And as a speaker of American epideictic, NASM is supposed to
safeguard this doxa about this pivotal moment in American and world history, truth
created and maintained by rhetorical acts of concealment, by making it even more
evanescent in/as history. As Bourdieu (1998) observed:
What appears to us today as self-evident, as beneath consciousness and
choice, has quite often been the stake of struggles and instituted only as
the result of dogged confrontations between dominant and dominated
groups. The major effect of historical evolution is to abolish history by
relegating to the past, that is to the unconscious, the lateral possibles that it
eliminated. (p. 56-7)
Epideictic is not only a celebratory discourse of memorialization and
commemoration; it is also a deliberate act of forgetting. This constitutes a
significant obstacle for American museums that wish to fully embrace the idea of
forum, as a place for open discussion and debate, in exhibiting history. Regarding
other Smithsonian museums, the newly opened National Museum of American
Indians (NMAI) celebrates the exotic cultures of American Indians, from the

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Inuit in Alaska to American Samoans in the Pacific, through its ethnic epideictic.
What is absent in NMAI is any hint of the complex place these ingenious people
have occupied in American history. In fact, from the late 19th century to the middle
of the 20th century, American Indians have been a subject of what Hinsley (1981)
calls government anthropology and the painful and immensely complex matter
of repatriation of bones and burial goods has become an issue of contention
among ingenious people, the Bureau of American Ethnology, and its parent
organization, the Smithsonian Institution (p. 12). None of these matters are
presented at NMAI. The rhetoric of NNAI celebrates the diversity of American
Indians culture and their happy life; the only villains in its exhibit space are
white and Spaniards; it is as if Americans were always already on the side of
the Indians.
On the other hand, efforts to appropriate federal funding to launch the
National African-American Museum, another Smithsonian museum already
authorized by Congress, has been repeatedly turned down, partly because of its
particular approach to the exhibition of the history of African-Americans (Ruffins,
1997, 1998). These problems of new identity crisis are not limited to
communicative practices of exhibition at the Smithsonian. As Handler and Gable
(1997) observed, many curators are now facing difficulties of doing a new history
at old museums. They reported, for instance, a controversy provoked by a
slavery reenactment at Colonial Williamsburg. Produced by an African American
curator, the intent behind the show was to expose visitors to a part of the history

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that Colonial Williamsburg had previously avoided exhibiting and to encourage

them to rethink their understanding of life in Colonial America. Most visitors
(should) know that slavery existed and that it was undeniable part of American life
in the past. Yet, many Americans did not want to see slavery, let alone think about
it, at Colonial Williamsburg. Just as the Smithsonians Air and Space cannot but be
a Disneyland with wings, Colonial Williamsburg cannot be a forum, for it is a
Disneyland of Good and Old America after all.

The Future of Museum Controversy

Research Question 3: Are there ways in which future controversies such as
that which surrounded the Enola Gay exhibit could be avoided or mitigated?
Finally, this study has led to the conclusion that, given the issues raised
against the Smithsonian and the way it handled these issues, the controversy over
The Crossroads and its eventual cancellation were unavoidable. A controversy
was what NASM sought to exhibit, but that was exactly what many of its critics did
not want to see. Moreover, NASMs unique place in American political culture and
the particular occasion that was chosen for launching the exhibit created additional
difficulties for the museum. There was a gap between the speaker (the
Smithsonian) and its diverse audiences regarding how to communicate a historic
moment in American history, and, despite the Smithsonians efforts to
compromise, that gap did not become narrow enough to make the controversial
exhibit a reality. In other words, the Smithsonian was unable to avoid what the
museum community calls the museum horrors.

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In a short article in the Journal of Museum Education, Roberta Cooks

(1998), a senior exhibit developer at the Franklin Institute Science Museum, offers
a set of guidelines to assist museum curators in developing controversial exhibits.
While she admits that there is no such thing as a foolproof recipe to make
controversial exhibits work, Cooke (1998) presents the following as worth trying:
Believe in what youre doing; prepare your museum; reach out to your community;
host a preview and invite your potential enemies; learn from the stories of other
people (p. 18). For those museums in the United States do have to address
controversies in their exhibits and, for curators who believe it is sometimes
important or necessary to develop a controversial exhibit, the Smithsonians
experience with The Crossroads provides an instructive case study. Therefore,
this dissertation follows Cooks lead and offers some lessons from the Enola Gay
controversy, with particular regard to problems of communication. While the
museum horrors may not be completely avoidable, there may exist some ways in
which museums could mitigate unnecessary troubles when they are launching
controversial exhibits in the future.

Multiple Audiences, Diverse Interests

The first lesson to be learned has to do with problems of multiple
audiences. This study revealed how the problem of textual imbalance in the
Smithsonians initial script became an issue that persisted throughout the
controversy. Military historians who reviewed The Crossroads objected to the

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scripts imbalance but ceased complaining once the script was revised.
Unfortunately, the issue of textual imbalance was later picked up later and was
exploited by other critics as part of the massive media campaign against the
Smithsonian. The study also revealed that some of the critical reactions that
emerged were contradictory to each other. For instance, veterans demands for
celebratory commemoration was incompatible with the idea of a balanced
treatment of the history of the atomic bombing and its aftermath.
Such diverse, and sometimes contradictory, criticisms from different interest
groups are what museum curators have to deal with, and curators, particularly
those planning controversial exhibits, should invite critical reactions, at an early
point in exhibit development, from vested interest groups. Museums must be
able to anticipate negative reactions and be prepared to deal with them more
carefully. In particular, the Smithsonian should have foreseen that Air Force
Association would not be happy with The Crossroads, given the nature of its
organization as a promoter of military air power. As Linenthal (1996), a member of
the

exhibits

Special

Advisory

Committee,

observed,

the

Smithsonian

underestimated formidable power and determination of the AFA (p. 36). The
Enola Gay controversy gives a bitter lesson to the nations museum community: to
know your enemies better and be prepared for their offense more fully.

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Dealing with Culture-Producing Groups

The second lesson that can be drawn from the Smithsonians experience
with The Crossroads is that curators need to be more sensitive to the fact that
museum exhibits take place within a particular community at a particular time. As
this study has demonstrated, the critics of the Smithsonian were not simply diverse
groups of people and organizations with vested interest. They were also powerful
culture producing groups whose interest lay not in museum exhibits per se but in
the exhibits rhetorics that perpetuate culture. It is important for future curators in
museums-as-forums to remember the revolutionary potentials of their discursive
exhibition practice. In other words, controversies that museums exhibit not only
facilitate discussion and debate; in a sense, they also finance the revolution by
creating opportunities. . . to confront established values and institutions
(Cameron, 1971/2004, p. 69). Museums as forums pose tremendous threats to a
communitys doxa, for they harbor a powerful form of
critique which brings the undiscussed into discussion, the unformulated into
formulation, has as the condition of its possibility objective crisis, which, in
breaking the immediate fit between the subjective structures and the
objective structures, destroys self-evidence practically. (Bourdieu, 1977, p.
169).
It is too nave to assume, however, that communities will always be able to
accept particular critiques and bring their own truths from the realm of the
undiscussed back to that of the discussed. [I]f the community is completely
honest, it will remember stories. . . of suffering inflicteddangerous memories, for
they call the community to alter ancient evils (Bellah et al., 1996, p.153).

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However, the study demonstrated that the American community was not ready to
be completely honest about its past memories of the atomic bombings and the end
of World War II. Specifically, the critical reactions against The Crossroads
revealed that key culture producing groups were unwilling to let people be
exposed to certain truths and perspectives and to allow them to make their own
decisions about the past for themselves. Given the nations particular political
climate in which the return of World War II was the dominant rhetorical theme,
reexamining what that happened in Americas Good War was destined to arouse
strong political opposition.
Unfortunately, this is how history education works in many of contemporary
American communities. James Loewens (1995) analysis of 12 representative high
school history textbooks used throughout the nation painfully demonstrates this
deplorable situation. His words are worth quoting in length:
Why are history textbooks so bad? Nationalism is one of the culprits.
Textbooks are often muddled by the conflicting desire to promote inquiry
and to indoctrinate blind patriotism. Take a look in your history book, and
youll see why we should be proud, goes an anthem often sung by high
school glee club. But we need not even look inside. The titles themselves
tell the story: The Great Republic, The American Way, Land of Promise,
Rise of the American Nation. Such titles differ from the titles of all other
textbooks students read in high school or college. Chemistry books, for
example, are called Chemistry or Principles of Chemistry, not Rise of the
Molecule. And you can tell history textbooks just from their covers, graced
as they are with American flags, bald eagles, the Statue of Liberty. (p. 14)
Textbooks also keep students in the dark about the nature of history.
History is furious debate informed by evidence and reason. Textbooks
encourage students to believe that history is facts to be learned. We have
not avoided controversial issues, announces one set of textbook authors;
instead, we have tried to offer reasoned judgments on themthus
removing the controversy! Because textbooks employ such a godlike tone,

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it never occurs to most students to question them. . . . As a result of all this,

most high school seniors are hamstrung in their efforts to analyze
controversial issues in our society. . . Weve go to do better. Five-sixth of all
Americans never take a course in American history beyond high school.
What our citizens learn in high school forms most of what they know about
our past. (p. 16)
The Smithsonian should have recognized that its air and space museum
has to operate in the community where historical controversies are shunned both
inside and outside of its exhibit space. While this fact should not cause museum
curators to shrink from exhibiting controversies in the future, one important lesson
to be learned from the Enola Gay controversy is that curators have to be
strategic in their planning of such exhibits. For instance, as Senator Goldwater
and others feared, simply exhibiting the Enola Gay was controversial and would
likely provoke Americas cultural memory of the atomic bombing. If this was true,
the Smithsonian was unwise to stage the showing of the Enola Gay by
contextualizing it within a broad series of discussion topics. Visitors did not need
such contextualization, because they would inevitably bring in their own memories,
experiences, and opinions and would have debated and discussed what the
bombing meant to them. Even powerful culture producing groups could not have
controlled this. Or if the curators believed that some contextualization was needed,
they could have focused on only one controversy, e.g., Trumans decision, without
extending the exhibit to cover the Cold War nuclear arms race or anti-nuclear
movements. Given the nature of Americas nuclear memory, these other
controversies would have come up to many visitors minds even if the exhibit did
not explicitly stage them.

144

The Smithsonian could have at least mitigated the charge of anti-American

conspiracy if it had focused more on discourses of nuclear domesticity within
American culture. As observed in Chapter 4, the critics charged that the
Smithsonians depiction of the history of the atomic bombing was being influenced
by various anti-American forces including foreigners. To preempt such
accusations on peripherals, the NASM curators could have referred more to
Americans whose voices had been forgotten, rather than making Japanese
victims of the atomic bombing as the exhibits emotional center. It is important to
note that there is no Truth about the atomic bombing among American World War
II veterans: Even those airmen who took part in the Hiroshima mission themselves
do not agree on what was accomplished. For instance, Tibbets (1998), the Enola
Gay pilot, stated:
I viewed my mission as one to save lives rather than take them. . . I have
been asked in letters and to my face if I was not conscience stricken for the
loss of life I caused by dropping the first atomic bomb. To those who ask, I
quickly reply, NOT IN THE LEAST. (back cover)
On the other hand, Thomas Freebee, another Enola Gay crew member who was
on board with Tibbets and who physically dropped the bomb by pulling a lever,
had a somewhat different reaction. When asked about the same question, i.e., if
he had any regrets about the bombing, Freebee replied in an interview with the
Detroit Free Press:
Thats the one thing that the writers dont seem to understand. . . We say,
and we always will, that we have no regrets. We are not sorry we did it.
Then they write it as if were not sorry that people got killed. Thats not true.
Were sorry that people got killed there or anywhere else we were
involved. . . Im sorry folks had to be killed. . . I feel the same way about the

145

people I killed in Europe. Im sorry I had to kill them. ("Air force bombardier
dead at 81, 2000, p. 5B)
Tibbets and Freebee are both airwar heroes America should be proud of. The only
difference is Freebee already passed away (the original interview was given in
1985, its 40th anniversary). It would, nevertheless, be insulting to forget this World
War II veteran and deprive him of an opportunity to reflect upon his own
achievement and make it public, just because he is dead; doing so is indeed antiAmerican.
What all this suggests is need for a recognition on the part of museum
curators that critical exhibits, if they are to avoid unnecessary accusation, should
be grounded in self-reflexivity and reexamination of identity (Berkowitz, 1997, p.
15) in a given community. As Berkowitz (1997) contends, community, empathy,
and identity are at the core of any discourse whose aim is to transform a
communitys culture and ideology. Namely, museum controversy in the United
States should begin with genuine American (hi)story and ideas that are
themselves quite revolutionary. In so doing, they could revitalize critical discourse
inside and outside museum spaces. As Nash, Crabtree, and Dunn (2000) have
observed:
For many generations Americans have been involved in face-offs over what
history should be taught in schools. Perhaps it cannot be otherwise
because history is a touchstone of contemporary concerns and a mirror that
we hold before us to see who we are, where we came from, and where we
are going. So long as history is a fluid, dynamic field, it will uneasily mingle
commemoration and critique. Americans have never agreed on a single
unified version of our past, nor should they if our country is to remain
democratic. . . [T]hey vigorously debate heroes and villains, high points and
low points, tragic mistakes and towering successes. (p. 22)

146

(Not) Fighting Patrons

The final lesson to be learned from the Enola Gay controversy is that a
controversy over a controversial exhibit does not necessarily amount to an
informed judgment on the utility of that particular exhibit. That is, negotiations and
concessions pose difficulties for curators at museums at forums, not only because
their critics are determined and uncompromising but also they employ opposition
tactics some of which are tricky enough to be considered controversial
themselves.
The study reveals that the critical reactions against The Crossroads were
not necessarily grounded in good reasons and faith. Some of these objections, in
fact, turned out to be misleading and questionable enough so that they should
have deserved criticism as much as the script for NASMs planned exhibit did. A
prime example of such strategic deception on the part of the critics can be found
in the Senate resolution discussed early. The Senate condemned the Smithsonian
and called for the appropriate portrayal of the Armed Forces and justified its
condemnation based on federal law that stipulates that the Smithsonian shall
commemorate and display the contributions made by the military forces of the
Nation toward creating, developing, and maintaining a free and peaceful society
and culture and that the valor and sacrificial service of the men and women of
the Armed Forces shall be portrayed as an inspiration to the present and future
generations of America.

147

This Senate resolution, however, was problematic for two reasons. First, it
was based upon a deliberate misrepresentation of the United States Code. What
the resolution referred to as the federal law is 80 of Title 20 that stipulates the
authorization of the National Armed Forces Museum, not the National Air and
Space Museum, the establishment of which is authorized in 77 of Title 20.
Second, the Senate resolution was informed by a peculiarly selective reading of
the U.S. federal law. What was omitted in the resolution is a passage that follows
the one the Senate referred to, i.e., the paragraph (b) of the section 80 of Title 20
that explicitly indicates its jurisdictional authority:
(b) National Air and Space Museum provisions unaffected
The provision of this subchapter in no way rescind subchaper VII of the
chapter, which established the National Air and Space Museum of the
Smithsonian Institution, or any other authority of the Smithsonian Institution.
("National armed forces museum act", 1961)
It is important to note that this questionable rhetorical tactic on the part of
the Smithsonian critics did not become an issue in the Enola Gay controversy.
NASM did not fight it back and the mass media, for whom the Smithsonian fiasco
had been one of their favorite news stories in the latter half of 1994, chose not to
cover it at all. And this virtual silence of criticism against the Smithsonians
opposition should tell us something significant about the complex nature of the
Enola Gay controversy. The Smithsonian is a recipient of the governmental
patronage; operating costs of its museums largely depend on the appropriation
from the United States Congress. In addition, the political climate in the late 1990s
had created difficulty for the Smithsonian and other institutions of public education

148

to reason with the State authorities. Because of the Republican Partys landslide
victory in the November 1994 election, both Houses of Congress became
dominated by those who pushed balanced budget in the name of Contract with
America. There had been much talk of massive budge cut, of which federal
expenditure on education and culture was a prime target. As McCarthy (1995)
observed, this was conceivably one of the major factors that led Secretary
Heyman to the decision to cancel its long-planned exhibit. In order to save the
Institution, namely, the Smithsonian was forced to sacrifice the idea of museum
as forum and to play it safe with its patrons on Capitol Hill.
Future curators in museums as forums in the United States should
recognize that their critical exhibits must operate not only in a particular community
whose cultural norms they have to adhere to. They are also constrained by the
demand and normativity generated within a particular political economy of which
museums are part of. The Enola Gay controversy was indeed a prime example of
such museum horrors. The analysis unfortunately demonstrated a case in which
a museum has to relinquish a quest for its own metamorphosis in order to save
itself. No matter how unreasonable and misdirected they may look, public
museums cannot but listen and surrender to their patrons request, even though
such actions may result in ignoring a bequest on which their own philosophical
foundations are based.

149

Conclusion
The aim of this dissertation has been to offer a critical case study of a
significant public controversy within the context of its occurrence. By tracing the
rhetorical trajectory of the Enola Gay controversy, the attempt has been made to
identify the major issues that emerged and dictated the fate of the Smithsonians
The Crossroads exhibit, discuss what they should mean, and draw implications
with regard to problems of public communication.
Critical analysis undertaken in this study is limited for methodological
reasons. As this study adopted a case study approach as its methodological
orientation, validity of the findings presented in this dissertation is constrained by
the particular context of the controversys occurrence. By the same token, the
implications or lessons drawn from these findings may have limited applicability
and utility. Nevertheless, this study does offer one new perspective on historical
controversies in which certain institutional factors played a major role. The study
demonstrated problems of communication in Americas cultural memory of the
atomic bombing that took place in a specific location at a particular time. The
nations remembrance of Hiroshima and Nagasaki takes the form of contestation
and debate. Such critical discourse on history, however, is constrained by various
legislative, historical and political factors regarding an institution where it occurs.
Focusing on American memory put another methodological limitation on
this study. The rhetorical trajectory of the Enola Gay controversy analyzed in this
dissertation excluded certain voices. There did exist, for instance, a group of

150

Chinese and Chinese Americans who raised harsh objections to the Smithsonians
The Crossroads. Astrid Pei (1994), Chairperson of the All Chinese American
United Against Japan for Justice and Reparations (ACAUJJR) wrote a letter to
NASM, criticizing that the Smithsonian should focus more on atrocities caused by
Japanese Imperial Army in China in World War II.
Attached to Peis letter was a comment on The Crossroads by Tien-wei Wu,
professor-emeritus of Southern Illinois University and the Editor of the Journal of
Studies of Japanese Aggression Against China. Wu not only demanded that the
exhibit should include more materials on the Japanese atrocities, what he called
Chinese holocaust (Wu, 1994). More significantly, Wu fully endorsed objections
to the Smithsonian launched by AFAs John Correll, Tibetts, and others that
appeared in the Washington Post. He joined members of the Congressional
majority and syndicated columnists to condemn the Smithsonians conspiracy,
sarcastically

praising The Crossroads

as

What a successful

Japanese

propaganda! and demanding that the Smithsonian staff responsible for the
proposed exhibit should steadfastly defend the truth and the accurate history of
World War II, free from outside influence. This dissertation excluded such
objections from Chinese Americans, because their voices failed to constitute an
issue in the Enola Gay controversy. For many Americans, perhaps, memories and
experiences of Americans of the Chinese descent may be of little relevance to the
nations World War II and to nuclear domesticity.

151

Problems that Chinese Americans had with communicating their own war
memory through museum exhibition, however, does provide some significant
lesson to Americans at large. The Forgotten Holocaust was a small exhibit opened
at an art gallery on the campus of Occidental College in 1996. Curated by Daniel
Kwan, a Hong Kong native who never experienced the war by himself, the
purpose of the exhibit was to expose the Chinese holocaust to Americans and
reveal various wartime brutalities by Japanese Imperial Army, including biological
experiments and the Rape of Nanking. The Forgotten Holocaust, in fact, was
supposed to be a large-scale traveling exhibition. Kwan made the initial planning
for a national (i.e., American) tour to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the end
of World War II in 1995, using massive materials loaned from the National War
Memorial Museum in Beijing, China. Yet, this initial plan was unfortunately
cancelled, as the difficulty arose between the exhibit and China. The Chinese
government got wind of fact that some people working on the show were involved
with the pro-democracy movementso that show died, Kwan explained (Winer,
1997, p. 127).
[T]hat [American] democratic traditions include debate about values most
dearly held seems warranted. To leave our students out of unresolved discussions
of. . . controversies is to foster an unreality (Filreis, 1995, p. 156). The study
unfortunately revealed, however, that insulating doxa and shielding national
traditions from reexamination and debate seem one important communicative
function that the central government wants cultural institutions to perform under

152

the name of a particular nation-state, which makes American museums little

different from their counterparts in the rest of the world. Future studies of museum
controversy, therefore, should address the following fundamental problematics:
What is uniquely American about public museums in the United States where
exhibiting controversy is denied? What sort of traditional values is protected by
keeping Americans unengaged in debate over their past?

153

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ABSTRACT
THE ENOA GAY IN AMERICAN MEMORY: A STUDY OF RHETORIC IN
HISTORICAL CONTROVERSY
by
SATORU AONUMA
December 2005
Advisor:

Dr. George W. Ziegelmueller

Major:

Communication

Degree:

Doctor of Philosophy

This dissertation presents a case study of the Enola Gay controversy, a

public controversy over the planning of a special exhibit to commemorate the 50th
anniversary of the worlds first practical use of atomic bombs to be opened at the
National Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian Institution in 1995. This
controversy is a significant social phenomenon that deserves critical study from
the perspective of communication and rhetoric. It is a controversy in which the
past, present, and future of nuclear memory and the role of museums in the
American culture were problematized. First, the text of the Enola Gay
controversy exhibited persistent issues within Americas cultural memory of the
atomic bombing that takes a form of critical discourse and cultural struggle. In
addition, the issues that emerged in the controversy have to do with problems of
communicative acts performed within a specific institutional context; it was a
discourse over a particular museum exhibit, not a speech or cinematography or

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televisual representation, that attempted to present a history of the atomic

bombing.
This study addresses problematics of communication and rhetoric that the
Enola Gay controversy exhibited. Conducting textual-interpretive, as well as
institutional, analyses, the study seeks to offer an analysis of issues that emerged
in the controversy against the specific backdrop of its occurrence. In addition, the
study also explore the relationship between public museums and their
communities in American culture. This dissertation makes a case that public
museums in the United States are significant agents of rhetoric and public
communication and, based upon the case study of the Enola Gay controversy, the
study draws implications for repositioning and reclaiming their place in American
culture with regard to public presentation of the nations cultural memory of the
atomic bombing and other controversial pasts.

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AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL STATEMENT
SATORU AONUMA
Satoru Aonuma was born in Tokyo and raised in Tokorozawa/Yokohama. As a
student, he attended Dokkyo University (Japan) and received a BA in English in
1987. A two-time national intercollegiate English-language debate champion, he
spent most of his spare time smoking, drinking, watching baseball and wrestling,
and translating and cutting cards in his undergraduate days. Prior to his
attendance at Wayne State, he received an MA in Communication Studies from
the University of Iowa. A critical cultural worker, Mr. Aonuma likes to read, write
and whistle-blow, while his scholarly work in communication, rhetoric, and
argumentation has appeared as about a dozen of journal articles and book
chapters. In the guise of a professional academician, so far he has succeeded in
engaging his self-assigned (c)overt operation in various parts of the world,
including Japan, the United States, Canada, Hungary, Czech Republic, the
Netherlands, Poland, and Croatia. As of today, his ultimate mission seems to
make an in-person appearance at a kangaroo court in Antarctica, speaking in
defense of an emperor penguin, although this would most likely change tomorrow.
Mr. Aonuma is currently an associate professor in the Department of International
Communication, Kanda University of International Studies (Japan), a full-time
position he has held successfully since 1998.