Government Should Butt Out of Debate on School Mascots

After spending several days in Washington, D.C., and listening to friends talk about the real threat of a terrorist attack on the city, it’s good to be back home and see what concerns us on the West Coast.

Such as: whether the state should ban Native American team mascots from public schools.

The state Assembly took up the question last week, and when the smoke cleared, 29 legislators supported the idea. Unfortunately for them, they needed 41 votes.

They left the mascot matter a dead duck, and I say that with all due respect to ducks.

This isn’t a new issue. Several years ago, a Times sportswriter vowed in print never to use the word “Redskins” in a story again, even when writing about the Washington football team with that name. He’s no longer working for the paper, but he left the world a better place.

Years before that, some parents in Mission Viejo were unhappy with the continuing use of Diablos as the school nickname, because it meant “devils” in Spanish. That offended their sense of Christian propriety.

You might think that by playing the wise guy, I’m minimizing the issue. You’d think otherwise if you knew how much time I’ve spent over the years trying to resolve in my own mind this tricky problem.

As is usually the case, I don’t belong in either of the major camps. I don’t side with those who say the debate is a big waste of time and should be ignored.

Nor do I side with those who wax moralistic over it and consign the naysayers to penance for not agreeing with them.

Here’s The Third Way. There’s room on the bandwagon if you want to hop on.

Let’s use the ever-popular “Indians” as our example.

Isn’t it presumptuous for those of us who aren’t of Indian heritage to say the name isn’t offensive, when many Native Americans show up in public forums and say just the opposite?

If they say they’re offended, shouldn’t we assume they are?

In my deliberations, I accept as fact that many people are offended by the name.

Then I ask this question: What about other Native Americans who aren’t offended by Indians, Chiefs or, dare I say it, Redskins?

Over the years, many of them also have come forward and said just that. They might not like the nicknames, but they’ve made it clear the subject just isn’t one that interests them. In short, they don’t care.

That leads me to conclude that the nicknames aren’t inherently offensive. If they were, then an overwhelming percentage of people in the group would be offended. I don’t think that’s been proved.

So I’m at loggerheads, eh?

Hardly. At moments like that, I urge my brain onward, compelling it to settle the matter.

It’s not that complicated.

And it shouldn’t be decided by legislatures. That’s too much government for an issue that doesn’t go directly to an infringement of someone’s rights.

The arbiters should be local school officials and parents. And if I were on a school board, I’d vote to drop a nickname like Indians.

Why? Because those who are offended are passionate about it, not frivolous. Yes, their sensitivity is much keener than mine (go ahead and call your team the Swedes, I don’t care), but since when are school nicknames supposed to offend even portions of ethnic groups?

To those who retort, “Hey, it’s just a nickname,” I’d say that’s exactly the point. Since it is just a simple nickname, what’s the big deal in changing it?

Tradition is the only argument I can think of. Not a small argument, but not worth the stink. The Stanford Cardinal now has its own tradition, and the world isn’t poorer because its teams are no longer the Stanford Indians.

Giving up a nickname isn’t the equivalent of giving up a fundamental right.

Nope, the mascot issue doesn’t belong in the Legislature. When the matter is raised at individual schools, officials should defuse ill feelings and let students vote on a new, cooler nickname.

End of debate. Please?

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821; by writing to him at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626; or by e-mail at dana.parsons@ latimes.com.