In the center of the Sacred Ground, two paths intersect to form a cross. At the center of this cross stands a stone monument, 24 feet in height, engraved with the names of the honored dead, and a retelling of their final heroic deed. High atop the monument perches a vigilant golden American eagle, with a 10-foot wingspan, clutching a star-spangled shield. To the 33 passengers and seven crew members of United Airlines Flight 93, who saved the lives of countless Americans even while losing their own on September 11, 2001, a fitting and inspiring memorial, expressing both the gratitude and the resolve of the nation.

But you’ll never see that monument. It will never be built. You’ll also never see the winged angel, with a sword in his right hand and a laurel crown in his left, standing on a tall stone obelisk inscribed with Psalm 23 and The Lord’s Prayer. The Eagle and the Angel exist only as images on a website, two among the 1,059 designs which were submitted to the Park Service for consideration.

The 1,059 entries were whittled down to only five finalists by a select jury of “design professionals, family members, and local and national leaders.” The Eagle didn’t make it, and neither did the Angel, nor did any other design which violated the Park Service’s apparent moratorium on monument-building. Somewhere, there’s a secret rulebook that says, “no new structure may be built in America which anyone might mistake for a monument to anything.” Maybe it was a Supreme Court decision.

But whatever the reason, the five finalists for the Flight 93 memorial shared the common attribute of looking more like landscaping projects than building projects. The noble theme of the memorial was supposed to be, “A common field one day. A field of honor forever.” But the theme of the five humdrum finalists was, “A common field one day. A common field with a fence and a sidewalk, and some pretty trees.”

Once again the jury convened, and somehow chose a winner. It took them three days, but on September 7, they announced that a big crescent of red maple trees surrounding a little patch of hemlock trees summed it up best. This will be our nation’s tribute to the heroes of Flight 93:

The designers of this unmonumental memorial title their design, quite simply, “The Flag of Tunisia.” No, wait, I was kidding. What they really titled it was “Crescent of Embrace.”

Crescent of Embrace? Um…

Quite a few folks have expressed concern that the crescent is, you know, a symbol of Islam. And they’ve wondered if a great big red crescent is exactly the right symbol to honor Americans killed by terrorists who murdered in the name of… well, you know. They’ve even given voice to the opinion that this design might be better suited for a memorial to the terrorists, than a memorial to their victims. Their point is: if Al-Qaeda were going to build a tasteful memorial to their four martyred hijackers, wouldn’t they come up with something like this? So, why are we building it instead?

I fully expect the Park Service and the project’s designers to deny any intentional reference to Islam. They’ll say that the crescent best fits the bowl-shaped geography of the site, and symbolically expresses an embrace, or a broken circle, or anything but Islam. And they’ll be telling the truth about their intentions. But that shouldn’t matter a bit.

About two years ago, cartoonist Johnny Hart got himself in trouble with the Muslim-American community. Hart drew a “B.C.” comic strip of a character entering an outhouse and asking, “Is it just me, or does it stink in here?” The outhouse had a crescent moon shape cut into the door. Spokesmen for Muslim organizations denounced this vulgar abuse of their sacred crescent symbol, even though Hart denied any intentional reference to Islam. The crescent was there, said Hart, because that’s how cartoonists conventionally draw outhouses.

In reporting the B.C. controversy, the Washington Post consulted Marshall Blonsky, professor of semiotics at the New School in New York. Blonsky sided with the offended Muslims. It’s not that he disbelieved Hart’s denial; Blonsky pronounced that Hart’s intentions were completely irrelevant.

In analyzing this cartoon, semiotician Blonsky cautions against succumbing to the Intentional Fallacy: In criticism, he says, it is a mistake to give much weight at all to the artist’s stated intention. For one thing, it discounts the strength and influence of the unconscious mind, he said. All that matters in artistic criticism, he said, is the effect of the art on its viewers: the way people interpret it. In other words, even if Hart intended no offense, the offense is there.

In summary, the crescent symbolized Islam whether the artist intended it or not. And so the people offended by this symbolism were right to be offended, whether the offense was intended or not.

So say Dr. Marshall Blonsky and the Washington Post.

At least that’s what they said two years ago, when the offended parties were Muslim. It might be instructive to see if the Post — or anybody — revisits Dr. Blonsky regarding the semiotics of “Crescent of Embrace,” and if they do, what Blonsky has to say about it.

(Sending a ping to my friends at Wizbang)