That flag, with its crossed bars and stars, was one of three official emblems of the Southern states in the Civil War of 1860. But that flag heralded their army in battle.
The Confederate battle flag was rarely seen for the next 100 years. It re-emerged in the 1960s and appeared in public spaces as a symbol of resistance to the new campaign for African-American civil rights. The push to take it down has gathered momentum since the killing of nine black churchgoers.
The people who want to keep the flag point to its representation for them of a grand tradition, one they associate with honour and courage in fighting for a lost cause.
Those who have campaigned against that flag's display in public spaces see it as emblematic of a time when slavery was an accepted, unspoken part of daily life and of the hundred years of repression, and of segregation, that followed the emancipation. Blacks have been free since 1863 - just not equal.
There is nothing anyone can or should do to prevent the Confederate battle flag's private display. Displayed that way it can mean anything from traditionalism, to racism, to simple cantankerousness. Public display is a continuing insult to at least one minority group - African Americans - and that must end.
There is a parallel with our home-grown spelling controversy.
Otherwise good-hearted people insist that spelling our city's name without the "H" is consistent with history and tradition. It has been spelled that way for a long time and time-tested endurance makes it right and worthy of preservation.
Another group - a minority, perhaps - of our citizens feel aggrieved at the appropriation of the name without the "H" that gives it proper meaning as a Maori word-phrase, all too reminiscent of a history of a more powerful majority's imposition of will. And a history of takings, impinging on the taking of identity when the Maori language was nearly silenced. Now there is pride in that language and a striving for true equality.
It is time to move beyond resistance and grievance if for no other reason than the fact that we are in the struggle to reclaim and build this city together. That struggle implies a need to respect differences and, at the same time, harness our common energy.
One way to do this is to recognise that in the public space the official name on the district council or other institutions be spelled for its meaning in Maori - Whanganui.
Privately, in our individual writings and our correspondence, we are still free to spell the name however it suits - with, without or some way else.
I am fairly certain that however we agree to spell it, the word will be mispronounced, whether by TV newsreaders in New Zealand or anyone talking about us from abroad. Our name is that strong, that tough to pronounce easily.
Jay Kuten is an American-trained forensic psychiatrist who emigrated to New Zealand for the fly fishing. He spent 40 years comforting the afflicted and intends to spend the rest afflicting the comfortable.
