A Civil War Myth That Hurts Us All
tags: Civil War
Why are so many Americans woefully ignorant of their nation's history? That perennial question is raised yet again by Timothy Egan in his latest column on the New York Times website.
To prove that the problem is real, Egan cites two pieces of
evidence. The first one surely is cause for concern: "a 2010 report that
only 12 percent of students in their last year of high school had a firm grasp
of our nation’s history" (though historians will surely wish that Egan had
added a link to the report, so we could track down the source).
Egan's second piece of evidence suggests that he may be a participant
in as well as observer of the problem. "Add to that," he writes,
"a 2011 Pew study showing that nearly half of Americans think the main
cause of the Civil War was a dispute over federal authority -- not slavery --
and you’ve got a serious national memory hole."
I'm no expert on the Civil War, but I've read a number of
recent books by historians who are. They all agree that in 1861, when thousands
of Northerners eagerly enlisted, few were signing up to fight for the abolition
of slavery. They were signing up to do the one and only thing Abraham Lincoln
called them to do: to save the Union, which is to say to affirm federal
authority over all the states.
True, the dispute over federal authority was sparked by the problem
of slavery. Most Northerners were determined to stop slavery -- but only in the
territories of the West, where they feared slaves would block work
opportunities for free whites. Hence the popular slogan: "Free Soil, Free
Labor, Free [White] Men."
When it came to the existing slave states, most Northerners
agreed with Lincoln that there was no legal ground to abolish slavery. Most expert
historians suggest that there was still not enough political will in the North
to try to abolish slavery.
So from the North's point of view, at least, federal
authority was indeed the fundamental issue.
Only gradually, as the war progressed, did many Northerners come
to see it as a war against slavery. Many others never reached that point, as
Steven Spielberg's recent film Lincoln
reminded us. Even among those who did get there, most probably embraced
abolition largely as both a symbol of and strategic means to victory in the war,
not as a good in and of itself.
In the South issues of slavery and federal authority certainly
were inextricably entwined. "Slavery was enshrined into the very first
article of the Confederate Constitution; it was the casus belli, and the
founding construct of the rebel republic," as Egan writes. That's a
good snapshot of the issue from the Southerners' perspective.
But it's the winners who are supposed to write the history of
any war. For a Northerner to cite the Confederate Constitution as the full
explanation for the war is questionable, at best.
So let's thank Timothy Egan for adding a bit more proof that
even "opinion leaders," as he writes (as well as "corporate
titans, politicians, media personalities and educators") are sunk, more or
less, in that national memory hole. At least their knowledge of history usually
has some serious holes in it.
And I should personally thank Egan for reinforcing a point that's
dear to me: When we recall our history, and especially when we bring that memory
into the political arena, we are more often in the realm of myth than empirical
fact -- though most of our political and historical myths aren't simply falsehoods;
they include facts, but those facts are always wrapped in imaginative, symbolic
narratives that dictate how we interpret the facts.
The story of the Civil War as essentially a war against slavery
-- with all other issues secondary -- is a fine example. It's a story so deeply
rooted in American public memory, at least outside the white South, that it
will probably never be dislodged, no matter how many historians write how many
books. Such is the power of myth.
When Egan wanted to understand why Americans have such a
weak grasp of their history, though, he didn't look into the power of myth. Instead
he "asked a couple of the nation’s premier time travelers, the filmmaker
Ken Burns and his frequent writing partner Dayton Duncan."
Burns said: "It’s because many schools no longer stress
'civics,' or some variation of it," so students don't learn "how
government is constructed" -- a curiously irrelevant response from someone
who has enriched our understanding of so many aspects of our history.
Duncan did offer a direct and provocative, if speculative,
answer: "Americans tend to be 'ahistorical' — that is, we choose to forget
the context of our past, perhaps as a way for a fractious nation of immigrants
to get along."
That's where Egan adds his comment on the South's Constitution
and slavery as the casus belli, as if to prove the point by example. "That
history may hurt," he explains, implying that North and South can get
along easier if we ignore the hurts of their fractious past. "But without
proper understanding of it, you can’t understand contemporary American life and
politics."
No arguing with that conclusion. Coming on the heels of
Egan's (mis)reading of the causes of the Civil War, though, it points to a more
complex view of the American memory hole.
Why do most Americans outside the white South embrace the mythic
view of the Civil War as a battle essentially over slavery, from beginning to
end? Isn't it because "history may hurt" -- because it would, and
should, pain us to recall how deeply racist most Northern whites were in 1861,
and how many were willing to let slavery continue in the existing slave states?
If we believe the story of the North in 1861 as a monolithic
block dedicated to eradicating slavery, it eases the hurt. It lets us believe
that white America, outside the South, has a proud history of sacrificing blood
and treasure for the cause of racial equality. It makes the rapid end of
Reconstruction, the white Northerner apathy toward Jim Crow laws in the South
until the 1960s, and white racism in the North until the present day all look
like aberrations in a fundamentally moral history.
So we can more easily forget that, as Ta-Nehisi Coates
reminds us, "America was built on the preferential treatment of white
people -- 395 years of it." He rightly laments "our inability to face
up to the particular history of white-imposed black disadvantage," an
unbroken history that continues to the present day in wealth, jobs, housing,
education, incarceration, voting, and so many other areas of life.
If our ultimate goal is, as Egan suggests, to understand contemporary
life and politics, the prevailing myth of the Civil War as a crusade for
freedom and equality is counterproductive.
That doesn't mean we should aim to replace myth with pure
objective fact -- a noble but impossible dream. It does mean we need a myth of the
Civil War that comes closer to the facts and helps to close the still-yawning gap
between black and white America. We need a myth that makes sense out of all
kinds of racism and racial disparities in the present, not one that obscures
them.
Such a myth would probably open up more white hurt, at least
for a while. But it's the only way we might possibly, some day, heed Lincoln's call
to bind up the nation's wounds.