R: Return What Was Taken

It is a matter of plain fact that the United States has, at various times throughout its history, engaged in or endorsed acts of deception, violence, and theft against groups of people of a certain race or cultural heritage. The Party should agree that the forced removal of Native Americans from their ancestral lands was a great evil, as was the institution of slavery. And we must also admit that the consequences of these sins reverberate into the present day. Some of our greatest cities (e.g. Chicago) are built on land stained by the blood of those from whom it was stolen. Many of the racial disparities that exist today can be traced back, in some capacity, to slavery and Jim Crow. Plenty of artifacts that sit in museums, including those with continuing cultural or religious significance, were obtained by deceit or other unethical means. That we can recognize evils committed in the past, however, does not make it any easier to determine what should be done about them in the present.

Many would argue that the principle “justice delayed is justice denied” applies strongly here. If certain errors of the past have never been addressed, and their victims have never been compensated, it is our responsibility to correct this injustice, even if the present generation played no direct role in the crime. What was stolen should be returned, and better late than never. While it is true that such compensation would greatly disrupt the current order of things, we should not allow a healthy respect for the status quo to impede our obligation to do what is right. Additionally, the idea that we share in the responsibility for past sins is a biblical one—it was Adam, not we, who ate “...the fruit / Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste / Brought death into the world, and all our woe.” Yet, the very issue we debate this week offers proof that humanity still labors under the consequences of his choice.


Someone in the negative of this resolution might argue that it is moot to speak of “returning what was taken.” How can we, in any real sense, give back something that was stolen long ago, from a generation whose very memory has faded? Many institutions today make “land acknowledgements,” attempting to bring awareness to the checkered history of the property on which they reside. Seeing the impracticality (or impossibility) of giving back this land to its original owners or even their distant heirs, perhaps it is enough that we acknowledge the errors of our forefathers, so as not to repeat them.


Even if one believes that the burdens of the past do, in fact, fall on our shoulders, he need not be in the affirmative. One might agree that past wrongs should be corrected, but disagree as to the means by which such a task should be accomplished. Is it really justifiable to require museums to give up their exhibits, or individuals to give up property obtained in good faith, to atone for a crime in which no living person took part? An injustice today does not necessarily correct an injustice yesterday. Further, one might argue that the sins of the past have been paid in a much more terrible sense than we could ever imagine. If the evils of slavery produced an imbalance on the scales of Justice, by what currency could such a debt be paid, except by the blood of the soldiers who fought to abolish it?


I challenge both sides of this resolution to lay out a framework for what constitutes ownership, and accordingly, theft. When a theft is committed by an individual, against an individual, “return what was taken” seems to be a reasonable solution, perhaps alongside additional retribution. But what happens when the crime is perpetrated not against an individual, but an entire community? In cases where the item stolen is less tangible, how can we “return” liberty, or music, or culture? To whom would it be restored? Does it matter when the crime occured, or whether the original victims and offenders survive?


Does justice demand retribution? Is it the responsibility of our generation to make amends for the crimes of the past? If so, how can restoration be accomplished without creating further injustice? If not, what view of tradition can we take which would exonerate us from our place in it?