Why the Civil War Still Matters
Mr. Levin teaches history at St. Anne's-Belfield School in Charlottesville and blogs at Civil War Memory.
Much has changed within the historical profession and in race relations, but as we approach the Civil War sesquicentennial celebrations beginning in 2011 there is reason to be concerned. While academic and National Park Service historians have worked tirelessly over the past four decades to revise our understanding of the Civil War by emphasizing the importance of slavery, race, and emancipation as central themes of the war, the general public continues to hold onto a sanitized, white-only interpretation. From this perspective little has changed since the turn of the last century when reconciliation elevated Civil War soldiers and the war in general to a status that called for reverence and little critical questioning. Just think how surprised Americans were at the release of the movie Glory in 1989, which starred Denzel Washington and Morgan Freeman and recalled the history of the 54th Massachusetts.
I dare say that Americans love to remember their past when they can set the terms of the inquiry. We prefer a heroic past that is continually progressive and exceptional compared to the rest of the world. Just reflect for a moment on the way we think about our Civil War compared with news of civil wars from around the world. For most people the news of foreign civil wars conjures up images of confusion, sadness, corruption, uncertainty, and violence. Individuals and causes are rarely viewed as heroic or the product of benevolent design. No, foreign civil wars are reflective of the failure of governments and of the individuals who occupy high positions of power. We may see these nations and societies as the victims of a corrupt past void of democratic tendencies. For many it no doubt confirms American Exceptionalism. Whatever the case, civil wars are events that happen elsewhere and to others. I point this out to draw a sharp contrast with the way many Americans interpret our own Civil War. If you peel away the celebratory layers you will see that it has a great deal in common with the way we view civil wars elsewhere. It is the celebration of the war which troubles me because it seems to me that our gut reaction to foreign civil wars is a much more appropriate stance. Where is the confusion, uncertainty, violence, and sadness in our Civil War? I see the Civil War as a humbling event that serves as a reminder of the fragility of governments and the depths of violence that we all too often reach. I agree with the late historian William Gienapp that the “outbreak of war in April 1861 represented the complete breakdown of the American political system. As such the Civil War constituted the greatest failure of American democracy.” I wish more people would approach the study of the Civil War from this perspective.
Most Civil War enthusiasts prefer a more entertaining or playful version of the war. I've seen it at Civil War Roundtables whose audiences hope for nothing more than the same tired stories about the same short list of characters. It's that little chuckle in the audience after the speaker strikes some sentimental chord that irks me. I see it in casual discussions when the person I am talking to finds out I teach a class on the Civil War and says:"Let me share a story your students will love." And yes you can see it in the coffee mugs, t-shirts, towels, and bumper stickers and in movies such as Gettysburg and Gods and Generals. What bothers me is the casualness of it all. W.E.B. Dubois warned against using history simply “for our pleasure and amusement, for inflating our national ego.”
My main point today is very simple: The Civil War still matters because as a nation we have yet to take it seriously. We've turned the war into a celebration of our collective imagination that emphasizes values that are deemed safe by white Americans. We choose to celebrate military leaders without coming to terms with the fundamental social changes that their actions wrought. And we reflect on the minutia of the battlefield completely divorced from their causes and their consequences. As the story goes, battlefields are places where white Americans sacrificed for values of equal worth--no blame, no guilt, no right or wrong. Messiness is rarely tolerated in these circles. Safer to debate whether J.E.B. Stuart, or this or that brigade were responsible for Confederate defeat at Gettysburg or any other battle than the controversy surrounding the recruitment of black soldiers and other divisive issue related to race.
As we approach the Sesquicentennial celebrations the question of how Americans remember their Civil War will be fought on many of its most famous battlefields. In 2000 the National Park Service began the process of reevaluating the interpretation of its Civil War battlefields and judged that it had fallen short in its coverage of the role of slavery and race. Southern Heritage groups like the Sons of Confederate Veterans responded in a strongly defensive tone in the pages of their official organ, the Southern Messenger: “The present politically correct conventional wisdom is that the War Between the States was fought over slavery, period; that therefore all things Confederate are tainted by a tacit endorsement of slavery or its latter-day counterpart, 'racism,' and therefore those who venerate them are racists.” While the language of the SCV betrays a loose logic, their concerns are reflective of a deep-seated desire on the part of many to resist clouding their preferred narrative of the war with issues of race.
I see our Civil War battlefields as ideal locations to discuss complex issues of race. On battlefields such as the Crater in Petersburg it is absolutely essential that one does so. If we are going to take the Civil War seriously we have to learn to put aside what we have traditionally been comfortable examining; in short, we have to be willing to get a little dirty. Battles were not simply slugfests between mindless pawns manipulated by disinterested generals. The evolution of the war brought about an end to slavery and the recruitment of black soldiers into the Union army. Soldiers argued about slavery and race and many came to see on both sides of the Potomac that the war would eventually bring an end to the nation’s “peculiar institution.” We do a disservice to history if we do not acknowledge the centrality of race in our Civil War.
In closing let me leave you with a more immediate concern, one that I care deeply about and that animates my current research. I’ve spent countless hours walking the Crater battlefield trying as best as I can to piece together the events of that bloody day and also events that took place there many years later. Unfortunately, the Crater and other Civil War sites are not visited by significant numbers of black Americans. One black visitor to Gettysburg in 1999 had this to say: “When you’re black, the great battlefield holds mixed messages.” I find this state of affairs all the more troubling because I understand all too well the process by which they were cut off from any meaningful connection with these and other places that played a central role not just in the history of this nation, but the evolution of black freedom as well. Part of the process of writing about Civil War memory is to suggest what was possible. The study of the past is about acknowledging contingency. Our memory of the Civil War could have evolved in any number of ways. That it did evolve in a certain way serves to remind us of how important it is to step back on occasion and ask who is being served and who is being left out and why. My hope is that as we gear up to remember the Civil War as a nation that we take the opportunity to use our battlefields as well as scholarship to craft a more inclusive history that honors all who fought and how the founding principles that we hold so dear were brought closer to fruition.
I dare say that Americans love to remember their past when they can set the terms of the inquiry. We prefer a heroic past that is continually progressive and exceptional compared to the rest of the world. Just reflect for a moment on the way we think about our Civil War compared with news of civil wars from around the world. For most people the news of foreign civil wars conjures up images of confusion, sadness, corruption, uncertainty, and violence. Individuals and causes are rarely viewed as heroic or the product of benevolent design. No, foreign civil wars are reflective of the failure of governments and of the individuals who occupy high positions of power. We may see these nations and societies as the victims of a corrupt past void of democratic tendencies. For many it no doubt confirms American Exceptionalism. Whatever the case, civil wars are events that happen elsewhere and to others. I point this out to draw a sharp contrast with the way many Americans interpret our own Civil War. If you peel away the celebratory layers you will see that it has a great deal in common with the way we view civil wars elsewhere. It is the celebration of the war which troubles me because it seems to me that our gut reaction to foreign civil wars is a much more appropriate stance. Where is the confusion, uncertainty, violence, and sadness in our Civil War? I see the Civil War as a humbling event that serves as a reminder of the fragility of governments and the depths of violence that we all too often reach. I agree with the late historian William Gienapp that the “outbreak of war in April 1861 represented the complete breakdown of the American political system. As such the Civil War constituted the greatest failure of American democracy.” I wish more people would approach the study of the Civil War from this perspective.
Most Civil War enthusiasts prefer a more entertaining or playful version of the war. I've seen it at Civil War Roundtables whose audiences hope for nothing more than the same tired stories about the same short list of characters. It's that little chuckle in the audience after the speaker strikes some sentimental chord that irks me. I see it in casual discussions when the person I am talking to finds out I teach a class on the Civil War and says:"Let me share a story your students will love." And yes you can see it in the coffee mugs, t-shirts, towels, and bumper stickers and in movies such as Gettysburg and Gods and Generals. What bothers me is the casualness of it all. W.E.B. Dubois warned against using history simply “for our pleasure and amusement, for inflating our national ego.”
My main point today is very simple: The Civil War still matters because as a nation we have yet to take it seriously. We've turned the war into a celebration of our collective imagination that emphasizes values that are deemed safe by white Americans. We choose to celebrate military leaders without coming to terms with the fundamental social changes that their actions wrought. And we reflect on the minutia of the battlefield completely divorced from their causes and their consequences. As the story goes, battlefields are places where white Americans sacrificed for values of equal worth--no blame, no guilt, no right or wrong. Messiness is rarely tolerated in these circles. Safer to debate whether J.E.B. Stuart, or this or that brigade were responsible for Confederate defeat at Gettysburg or any other battle than the controversy surrounding the recruitment of black soldiers and other divisive issue related to race.
As we approach the Sesquicentennial celebrations the question of how Americans remember their Civil War will be fought on many of its most famous battlefields. In 2000 the National Park Service began the process of reevaluating the interpretation of its Civil War battlefields and judged that it had fallen short in its coverage of the role of slavery and race. Southern Heritage groups like the Sons of Confederate Veterans responded in a strongly defensive tone in the pages of their official organ, the Southern Messenger: “The present politically correct conventional wisdom is that the War Between the States was fought over slavery, period; that therefore all things Confederate are tainted by a tacit endorsement of slavery or its latter-day counterpart, 'racism,' and therefore those who venerate them are racists.” While the language of the SCV betrays a loose logic, their concerns are reflective of a deep-seated desire on the part of many to resist clouding their preferred narrative of the war with issues of race.
I see our Civil War battlefields as ideal locations to discuss complex issues of race. On battlefields such as the Crater in Petersburg it is absolutely essential that one does so. If we are going to take the Civil War seriously we have to learn to put aside what we have traditionally been comfortable examining; in short, we have to be willing to get a little dirty. Battles were not simply slugfests between mindless pawns manipulated by disinterested generals. The evolution of the war brought about an end to slavery and the recruitment of black soldiers into the Union army. Soldiers argued about slavery and race and many came to see on both sides of the Potomac that the war would eventually bring an end to the nation’s “peculiar institution.” We do a disservice to history if we do not acknowledge the centrality of race in our Civil War.
In closing let me leave you with a more immediate concern, one that I care deeply about and that animates my current research. I’ve spent countless hours walking the Crater battlefield trying as best as I can to piece together the events of that bloody day and also events that took place there many years later. Unfortunately, the Crater and other Civil War sites are not visited by significant numbers of black Americans. One black visitor to Gettysburg in 1999 had this to say: “When you’re black, the great battlefield holds mixed messages.” I find this state of affairs all the more troubling because I understand all too well the process by which they were cut off from any meaningful connection with these and other places that played a central role not just in the history of this nation, but the evolution of black freedom as well. Part of the process of writing about Civil War memory is to suggest what was possible. The study of the past is about acknowledging contingency. Our memory of the Civil War could have evolved in any number of ways. That it did evolve in a certain way serves to remind us of how important it is to step back on occasion and ask who is being served and who is being left out and why. My hope is that as we gear up to remember the Civil War as a nation that we take the opportunity to use our battlefields as well as scholarship to craft a more inclusive history that honors all who fought and how the founding principles that we hold so dear were brought closer to fruition.