In February 2003, First Lady Laura Bush planned a symposium, Poetry and the American Voice, focusing on the poetry of Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, and Langston Hughes.
These three poets are universally recognized as great American poets, whose voices are always worth hearing. Dickinson addressed some of the most pressing issues that affect us all as human beings.
Whitman demonstrated an all inclusiveness of races, genders, and classes of people, and he elucidated the profound effects of democracy that still resonates with readers. And Hughes still shines with important observations regarding race and class issues in America.
The influence of such a symposium could have put poetry in the spotlight in a way that many Aprils (national poetry month) could not equal. A wide variety of issues could have been discussed, including the issue of anti-war ideology.
This potentially momentous occasion was scheduled for February 12, 2003. The First Lady sent invitations to some of America’s publishing poets.
One of the poets receiving an invitation to the symposium was Sam Hamill. After reading his invitation, Hamill wrote the following letter to some fellow poets:
Dear Friends and Fellow Poets:
When I picked up my mail and saw the letter marked "The White House," I felt no joy. Rather I was overcome by a kind of nausea as I read the card enclosed:
Laura Bush requests the pleasure of your company
at a reception and White House Symposium
on "Poetry and the American Voice"
on Wednesday, February 12, 2003 at one o'clock
Only the day before I had read a lengthy report on the President's proposed "Shock and Awe" attack on Iraq, calling for saturation bombing that would be like the firebombing of Dresden or Tokyo, killing countless innocent civilians.
I believe the only legitimate response to such a morally bankrupt and unconscionable idea is to reconstitute a Poets Against the War movement like the one organized to speak out against the war in Vietnam.
I am asking every poet to speak up for the conscience of our country and lend his or her name to our petition against this war, and to make February 12 a day of Poetry Against the War. We will compile an anthology of protest to be presented to the White House on that afternoon.
There is little time to organize and compile. I urge you to pass along this letter to any poets you know. Please join me in making February 12 a day when the White House can truly hear the voices of American poets.
Sam Hamill
When Mrs. Bush became aware that the symposium’s focus was to be highjacked by a crowd of ideologues, she cancelled the event. So instead of a discussion and reading of three of America’s greatest bards, Hamill collected a group of “anti-war” poems, slapped together a book, Poets Against the War, and flung up a web site with the same title. And poetry suffered another defeat at the hands of these "poets," who decided it was better to promote a slog of doggerel than present a useful discussion of three of America’s best poets.
Orinn Judd’s remark captures the depravity of Hamill’s and his fellow poets’ action:
In [Dana Gioia's] essay, [“Can Poetry Matter?”], he suggested that the world of poetry has become an insular subculture that no longer interacts with the larger society. This little contretemps with the White House perfectly illustrates the point. Given an opportunity, with White House imprimatur, to celebrate poetry, these poets sought instead to turn the event into a denunciation of the American government and people, who contrary to the author's assertion, support the coming war in record numbers. Little wonder then that so few of us think modern poetry is intended for our ears, but is instead the mental onanism of an effete, ivory-towered, intellectual elite.
For a useful discussion about this event, please read Bruce Bawer’s “A Plague of Poets,” which appeared in the Winter 2004 issue of The Hudson Review.
