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Paper
Clips(2004)
USA
Program Notes by Chale Nafus, Director of Programming, Austin Film Society We ask that you pause and reflect on the evil of intolerance and hatred. What could barrels and boxes of useful but expendable paper clips possibly have to do with the pain, suffering, and catastrophic destruction wreaked on the Jewish people by Hitler's unthinkable "Final Solution," the Holocaust? At the end of the bloodiest century in recorded history, some humble but amazing people of Whitwell, Tennessee forged a very moving connection between paper clips and the millions who died throughout Europe as sacrificial victims of an ideology carried to an unfeeling, unexamined extreme. In 1998 the principal and teachers of the Whitwell Middle School decided that their students needed to learn about tolerance and diversity. Theirs was an economically depressed town of 1600 people with no Jews, no Catholics, and only five African-American and one Latino child in the middle school. There hadn't been any reported racist incidents, but the faculty knew that many of their children, after high school graduation, would doubtlessly move to some larger city, such as Chattanooga, 24 miles away, a social environment for which life in their little town could scarcely prepare their children. Just as bigotry can be learned from parents, peers, and institutions, the school system reasoned that it was up to them to teach and instill tolerance of other cultures. They chose the Holocaust as a means of opening minds and hearts. No one, student, teacher, or parent, could have realized where their instructional adventure would take them. The lessons started with an emphasis on treating others as one wished to be treated, a simple restatement of the Golden Rule. Holocaust movies were watched, Anne Frank was studied, horrific photos of the death camps were viewed, and tears were raised. That would have been admirable but fairly standard ways to learn about the Holocaust. But then one day one of the children said he didn't know what 6,000,000 looked like. Coincidentally another child had learned that the paper clip, created by Johan Vaaler, had become a symbol of national solidarity when the Nazis wouldn't permit the Norwegians to wear buttons with the initials of their king. Paper clips, a Norwegian invention, became a substitute and a symbol of defiance. It was left to someone at Whitwell sixty years later to make the symbolic connection between the paper clip and the individuals killed in the camps. The decision was made to collect paper clips, 6,000,000 of them, so the students could have a visual representation of the incomprehensible 6 million dead. The students sent letters to various famous personalities requesting paper clips. Tom Hanks, Tom Bosley, and others sent a few with letters of praise for the students' project. When a shipment of 100,000 paper clips arrived from a California jewelry designer, they thought they were sure to have the necessary number in no time at all. But then the flood receded into a trickle. With the numbers coming in at that much slower rate, they estimated it would take 10 years to get all the paper clips. No one had the heart or stamina to carry on that long. Maybe they'd have to be satisfied with collecting just 1.5 million to represent all the Jewish children murdered in the camps. But that fall they were contacted by Peter and Dagmar Schroeder, German correspondents for Reuters, living in America. The two journalists came to Whitwell to visit with the children and teachers and write about their project for various German magazines and newspapers. Dita Smith of the Washington Post decided to cover the story despite her own preconceived ideas of "a close-minded town" in Tennessee, home of the anti-Darwin Scopes "Monkey Trial" in 1925 and birthplace of the Ku Klux Klan in the 1860s. Surprised by what she saw at Whitwell, she wrote a glowing piece. Tom Brokaw of NBC News picked up the story and broadcast it throughout the nation. The paper clips began flooding into the beleaguered post office. By the end of six weeks the middle school contained over 24,000,000 paper clips, far beyond their once-unreachable goal. Everybody in town was put to work counting the contents of boxes and envelopes. Even more amazing than the barrage of paper clips were the 25,000 letters, many of which were from camp survivors or their descendents. Suddenly the tiny middle school was becoming the repository for thousands of personal memories and family stories. Every letter was catalogued and placed in binders. The teachers had a storehouse of personal memory to use in the classroom. At times they were as overwhelmed emotionally as their students-"it was like an ice water bath when the letters began to come." As one teacher intimated, not only were they all learning about another culture and its near-destruction, but also they were showing the world that they were much more than "dumb little rednecks." Stereotypes could be broken in many ways through the success of this project. And then came the real people to the little town. In the spring of 2001 a group of Holocaust survivors from New York State visited Whitwell to share their stories. Scarcely an eye was dry as their losses, sorrows, hopes, and determination were revealed in the classrooms and community meeting places. Children tried to imagine themselves in those situations in the camps. As one said, "Those people are heroes to me." With over four times the number of paper clips they originally intended to collect, they decided to keep 11,000,000, 6 million for the Jews and 5 million for the homosexuals, gypsies, political prisoners, and others who were also exterminated. But a new problem arose. Where and how to store and display the paper clips in a respectful and meaningful way? The project-saving journalists, the Schroeders, reentered the picture and came up with a unique solution, one which would require a return to Europe and a 3,000-mile trip through their homeland. At times the cynical mind wants to scream out, "But these are just paper clips! What good are they doing?" Through the power of this film and the testimony of the participants, these little pieces of wire, twisted into a useful shape for holding a small group of pages together, have become a surprisingly powerful symbol. Throughout history people have lived and died for their symbols - flags, insignia, crowns, words, images. One people's national symbol can strike terror or anger into the hearts of another people. For the people who observed or participated in the Whitwell Holocaust Project, the paper clip became a moving symbol of individual souls laid to rest in the name of tolerance and love and a means of remembering them in one's daily work every time a paper clip is picked up and used. Simple but most effective, like the best of symbols. PAPER CLIPS (directed by Elliot Berlin and Joe Fab, written and produced by Joe Fab, 35mm, color, distributed by Miramax Films, 2004, 90 min.) |
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