While the Confederate battle flag is now widely recognized as a symbol of hatred, it wasn't always so controversial. It is, after all, the same flag that unceremoniously graced the roof of Bo and Luke Duke's 1969 Dodge Charger. As James Tuck's recent commentary demonstrated, to some the flag truly symbolizes the peculiar independence many Southerners cherish. Yet, for the key decisionmakers on both sides, the battle to remove it from atop the statehouse here in South Carolina is more of an opportunity for ego gratification, constituency building and getting quality time in the limelight than it is the pressing moral concern perceived by most South Carolinians.

The background facts are straightforward: The flag was merely one of many "battle flags"— not the official flag of the Confederacy. In fact, the battle flag isn't even our official state flag. It was first raised over our statehouse in 1962. Lawmakers from 1962 now claim it was raised to commemorate the Civil War centennial‚ not to show contempt for pending civil rights initiatives or African Americans. (They haven't explained why they were a year late.) It was to come down on the centennial of Lee's surrender at Appomattox ... but the lawmakers — true to their poor sense of history — say they forgot.

Armed with that information, you're hopefully asking, "So why not just take it down now?"

The problem is that none of the antagonists on either side wants it down just yet. That's right. The NAACP, which — like the flag — was on the verge of being an irrelevant artifact, is driving the flag movement with its boycott of state tourism. Favorable national attention on this issue has rejuvenated the NAACP constituency so much so that it would be foolish to seek a quick resolution. It even taunts and embarrasses those who might be its strongest allies while provoking its opponents into recalcitrance — preferring publicity over achieving its stated goal.

In 1997, our Republican governor tried to remove the flag, but he failed to first build a consensus. Then he blundered by not giving the NAACP a chance to share credit. With nothing at stake, the NAACP withheld support. So, does the NAACP truly regard the flag as a key moral concern? Well, when explaining why they didn't support the former governor, the NAACP says the flag wasn't part of their 1997 and 1998 agenda. But after a sudden change of heart, the NAACP claimed the flag removal initiative. In July 1999, it announced its boycott effective Jan. 1, 2000. The NAACP's timing is suspect. The 1999 legislative session had adjourned in June and the 2000 session wouldn't commence until, well, 2000 — which was too late. The deadline ensured a boycott, controversy and national attention. Plus, it gave the false impression of feet dragging by legislators who weren't in session.

But the NAACP is no more to blame for this shameful mess than the reactionaries who blindly oppose its every move. To flag supporters, it was obvious that supporting the governor was the best strategy for preserving the flag's reputation. Now, conservative Republican leaders are stalling not so much to defend the flag (while it's vilified daily in the national media) as they are scrambling not to appear to be surrendering to the NAACP's "economic terrorism." That's because many people actually care less about the flag than about the Lost Cause of preventing the NAACP from prevailing and getting too "headstrong." My "representatives" play to this anti-NAACP sentiment with commentary in the media that easily could have been borrowed from news coverage of Governor Orval Faubus (who used the National Guard to keep nine kids from going to school in Little Rock) or Bull Connor (who blasted fire hoses at children leaving church in Birmingham).

The other problem with the continued defense of the flag is the specious argument that there are many people who legitimately cherish the flag. I don't disagree with that fact, but battle flag lovers come in two flavors: those who legitimately revere the flag and those who flaunt it in hostility.

And it's impossible to tell the two apart. Even more damning is the fact that the "sincere" flag supporters have been poor custodians of their cherished symbol. Just as the NAACP has only recently found interest in the flag, flag supporters are only just now acting to protect it.

Even those who cherish the flag recognize it's become a symbol of hatred towards African Americans, Catholics and anyone else not eligible to join a White Citizens Council. Its use by our legislature as a banner of intolerance and oppression and in support of the Klan is documented to the 1930s. Sure, the once revered battle flag is taking a public beating today, but that's because the flag lovers were silent when it was appropriated by Klan groups to promote policies of hate. Where were these people then? And why don't they attend Klan marches today to protest the the Klan's desecration of their symbol? The NAACP isn't desecrating the flag by demanding its removal — they're merely pointing out its current state of disrepair. Anyone sincerely concerned about protecting the flag's rapidly deteriorating image ought to strike it — instead of trying to prove the white man's still in charge.

Moving the flag to the Confederate soldiers' memorial on the statehouse grounds is a sensible compromise. Even though it would be more visible, the location's less meaningful and that's precisely where a Confederate battle flag belongs. In fact, to recognize all the battle flags of the Confederacy, they should rotate them on a daily basis — de-emphasizing the negative impact of the "Dukes of Hazzard" flag while reemphasizing its legitimate historical context. Don't expect any compromise, though, while the decisionmakers prosper from the status quo.

Meanwhile, the many people of South Carolina who just want the thing hauled down without regard to whether there's "peace with honor"— we shake our heads, hope the rest of y'all aren't paying too close attention, and sigh our standard refrain in times like these: "Thank God for Mississippi!"

Jim Hennigan, Class of 1984, usually practices commercial and international law, but he's currently practicing how to extinguish burning crosses in his front yard in the event certain of his neighbors see this or, worse, if someone reads this to a Mississippian.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not neccessarily those of The Observer.

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