Why the Civil War Matters

“Before the Civil War, it was The United States are… After, The United States is, which is still what we say to this day. That’s what the Civil War achieved: it made us an is.”

~ Shelby Foote, writer

I spent the last week or so watching the 1990 Ken Burns PBS documentary series The Civil War. If I’d seen it before, I certainly didn’t consume it in its entirety. You can stream it, too — it’s on Netflix. I had bookmarked it awhile back because the Civil War interests me, but without any full sense of why I knew I had to watch it now, I knew I had to watch it now. I mentioned to a couple of friends that I was wading through the thick and murky bog of the docu-series and I most certainly got laughed at. “Yeah, that’s a totally normal thing to sit down and watch for fun,” my friend Shira teased me over lunch last week. But I think it is normal and probably more people should be doing it. Understanding where we’ve come from makes it so much more accessible to see plainly where we currently are.

I have long been interested in history. Of course, it’s the story of events, as told by the victors of the conflict. What side is “right” and what side is “wrong” is dependent both on the storyteller and the ultimate outcome of events. I think often of my friend Hamlet: Nothing is good or bad but thinking makes it so. Conceding that most history that’s knowable to us is from the point of view of those on the conquering side of things is a helpful weight against what “truth” is — and what perspective from which our understanding is drawn. Maybe it’s because I’m a writer — or maybe part of what motivates me to both read and write — is to have a full circle view of any given conflict. Trying to understand things from all sides helps me make a truly informed opinion about where I stand. Leaning only into one side or the other leaves a lot of space for blind spots.

Being a student of history didn’t always cultivate that strong sense of both sides of any issue because, as I’ve said, to the victor go the spoils. Winners get all rights to POV in this narration. So be it. But I was lucky to have a really excellent high school history teacher my sophomore or junior year of high school (maybe both? Who can remember these things). One teacher often threw monkey wrenches into our general understanding of American history. He was the first person I ever heard in my entire life say that the Civil War was not because of slavery — or, rather, that the cause of the war wasn’t because the North wanted to free the Southern slaves. The Civil War, he told us, was fought because of political and economic reasons — the South didn’t like that Lincoln was elected. Zimmerer also told us that Lincoln, even though he believed slavery abhorrent, wasn’t even that keen on abolishing slavery — that he would have kept that horrific practice intact had it kept the country together. And he also quite provocatively said, “Was Lincoln even a good president or did he just get a big memorial and his face on money because he got shot?”

Holy shit. That’s some radical stuff to shove in a teenage brain, especially one that had been fed a steady of diet of “The Civil War was about freeing the slaves” and “Abraham Lincoln is the man who freed them.” I remember loving that class (my friend Joel and I also had this competition to see who could get the highest percentage — both of us achieving over 100%/A+ averages the entire year, including midterms and finals because we did all of the offered extra credit — have I mentioned I was a big nerd in high school?) but the only thing I remember specifically from his class were these things about Lincoln and the Civil War. I remember trying to talk to others not in that class about these ideas and being met with blank stares. Because, in an overly-simplified understanding of the Civil War, it was the conflict that ended slavery in this country and, as such, was a war about that topic.

It wasn’t until I was in college at Kent State University that I got a chance to dive deeply into this mammothly important global conflict in a semester long class on the Civil War. Lead by one of the best goddamned professors I ever had, Dr. George Vourlojianis, we spent four months living and breathing this tide-turning war. It was, much like our very own Revolutionary War, a unique military and political circumstance. It’s hard to imagine a world where Virginia and Texas and Alabama were not part of our great United States, but it’s a dream those states once held for themselves. Dr. V took us through the whole shebang, from the conflicts that lead to the secession of first South Carolina and then six other slave-holding states who were all displeased with the election of Republican candidate Abraham Lincoln. Eventually eleven of the thirty-four states of the 1861 United States of America followed South Carolina’s lead, declaring themselves the Confederate States of America. First shots were fired at Fort Sumter, South Carolina on April 12, 1861. The next four years, almost to the day, were some of the bloodiest, most horrifying events on American soil.

Why did this interest me, you might wonder. Why did it interest historians like Dr. V or my teacher from high school? Why do so many people visit Gettysburg, Pennsylvania just to stand on the same place where so many lost their lives? Why does history matter?

It’s an often quoted phrase: those who don’t know their history are doomed to repeat it. But the truth, too, is that sometimes those who do know their history are still doomed to repeat it, and that’s the real tragedy of the human spirit. After I had the chance to immerse myself in Dr. V’s telling of the Civil War, I followed him into the battlefields of World War II and also Vietnam, both for full semesters. I adopted a history minor just because I was spending so much time at Bowman Hall in Dr. Vourlojianis’ classes. I found war to be the most game-changing factor in modern history. It’s what boosted economies and encouraged patriotism and directed energies. Having a clear enemy, having a clear purpose, having a clear anything propelled mankind forward. By the time we got to Vietnam, though, the black and whiteness of military incursions became blander, less distinct, harder to rationalize or justify. Wars where two opposing forces would line up on a battlefield, aim, and fire were long gone. The way a global conflict was experienced was forever changed.

And there’s lots of reasons for that: transparency is certainly one — drive or causation is another — and technology yet another. The need to send bodies on the ground armed with bayonets and rifles was starting to morph into another mode all together. For future wars to be accepted by a population, they needed good and palpable marketing. I remember being a kid during the Gulf War and having a whole red white and blue wardrobe to lean on the horn of my patriotism. Give me a song to sing that brings tears to my eyes and I will sing it. With gusto. But the longer we all live and the faster our ability to spread news gets, the more we see the imperfections of these plans laid out by our political and military leaders. Having the opportunity to spend first a semester deep in the trenches of the Civil War….followed by possibly the last war of distinctive villains, World War II….followed by the complete tragedy of Vietnam gave me an undeniable perspective shift as an undergraduate student. My eyes were opening to the way this all was dictated to we the people. I started to see what a difference a long exposure lens could do to my picture both of my country (that I love) and the things that defined us as a nation (these national and international conflicts). God bless the USA.

So, yeah, I watched the Ken Burns Civil War documentary series in February and March 2019 with my jaw on the ground and sadness in my heart. And even though I still carried a lot of the lessons and information I’d learned about this conflict with me, I learned so much more by watching and revisiting this war in depth. It was historian Barbara Fields who said (and I slightly paraphrase), “If there was one cause of the Civil War it was the failure to abolish slavery when the United States Constitution was conceived.” This document, written in 1789, nearly seventy years before those first Confederate shots were fired on a Union fort in a South Carolina harbor — it was the real first shot of the Civil War. Watching this docu-series brought a heartbreaking reality to the struggles our country still has to this day on the division between North and South, black and white. At one point, Ken Burns is talking about how some freed or escaped slaves made their way to New York City, clearly in the North and part of the Union, yet the racism still persisted. The key word Burns used, though, was found in this phrase: The Irish immigrants feared the blacks coming into the city who would also work for a low wage at the jobs they were already doing. “Feared,” he said. Feared. So much of what we call hatred is really that: fear of encroachment, fear of cultural blending, fear of change. Most of what is perceived as evil in this world is improperly attributed soul-shaking cold sweats of what am I going to do? It’s no mistake that wars are fought for that which is tangible: fortune, land, industry. We say it’s fought for intangible things like patriotism and the glory of god, but that, once again, is just the marketing.

Up top I quoted the often-referenced Shelby Foote in Ken Burns’ docu-series. It’s the summation of the Civil War in succinct fashion, his point being that before the war was fought, the United States were thirty-four-ish sovereign nations bound by a common national government that most had little regard for. States’ rights were the only ones that mattered. And what the Civil War proved was that States’ rights only matter if they are in congress with the nation as a whole. No longer was each state outlined in thick, black marker. That line was thinned and, as a result, what was good for all became the standard. One country, indivisible, under god. Only I think it’s “God.” Capital G. For better or worse, the United States is one entity, not to be divided by state’s lines ever again.

I remember being in college and traveling to Atlanta, Georgia with my boss Kathy to go to a gift buying show and waxing philosophical about the history of this part of the country. Wrote this poem about it:

Shopping with Kathy in the Heat of the Old South

“Most of the miseries of the world were caused by war, and by the time they were over most people didn’t even remember what they were fighting about . . .”

~ Gone With the Wind

Coming down South, we’d wanted to see Elvis’ white sequin villa

nestled comfortably in the too-long part of drawling Tennessee.

But instead we stopped to buy tile in Dalton — the carpet capital of the world -

to replace the carpet in the store -

before heading straight into the mouth of unstale history.

Without trying, we found ourselves disguised as a beep in the human answering machine

of the deteriorating secession — turned — hubbub Atlanta.

Hot and muggy Atlanta —

I’ve worn the same pair of shoes since we crossed the Georgia border.

Kathy and I talk about Grant and Lee and the truth behind the Confederacy,

and she furrows her brow imaging a thick line between fused nations on Richard’s globe.

We walk on many levels, waiting for sales pitches, thinking of home, waiting for elevators, thinking of ghosts, and my arm starts to throb —

probably because my feet are too comfortable.

I roll my shoulder and strain my eyes as I try to invoke my x-ray vision so I can see

Atlanta burning, like the sting in my shoulder.

If I blink fast, I see dulled red hoop skirts on gray slabs of defeat and agony.

My ear twitches in earnest as I struggle to hear the voices of the past above the roar of the vendors.

Even as we puzzle over which kitty figures to buy,

which paintings of pets are cutest,

which dog dishes might sell,

we look at each other and try to imagine ourselves in another country

and half wonder if the security guard will ask to see our passports — but he merely points to neon red or blue.

Rocking my feet and curling my toes, I’m glad my shoes will take me miles

from the North to the South, towards the past, away from the future

to sort through fragrant shadows and peer through the scrim of time —

Goddamnit, I love this poem. It’s one I think of often, the tangibility of what if Georgia was in another country? What if? Shelby Foote said the South never stood a chance of winning the Civil War — most historians agree, if for no other reason than the Northern economy and industry were so much stronger than the South’s — but there was a time when that is all these Georgians wanted. What about the two month long siege where William Techumseh Sherman’s men blockaded supplies and relief for the citizens of that city and the rebel army occupying it? The pride and will of those Southerners is hard to be outmatched or outlasted.

Yet, still, I can travel there with only my state ID and be admitted without further inquiry or assessment.

Though, saying that, I am reminded of another time I went with Kathy to Atlanta, probably around 2004, and we were dining with our group at a fondue restaurant that looked like it was on a pirate ship (because…why not?) and the owner of that establishment drunkenly made his way around to our table to greet us and meet us. When he asked us where we were all from, he took kindly to the answers of Ohio and Texas, but when I said I was from Boston, all humor drained from his face and he spun on his heels and walked away.

The Liberal North need not apply for citizenship in the Heart of Dixie.

But if there’s one lesson to be learned about the Civil War, it’s that we are all human beings intent on upholding our values. We still, as a nation, tend to segregate ourselves into communities where like-finds-like. I’ve been hunkered down in Boston for these past seventeen years and for all the reasons that Atlantan walked clean away from the likes of me are precisely why I love being a fuckin’ Masshole. The scary truth, though, is we live in an era where trying to cross those thickening black lines on the map is more important than ever. Reaching out to remain cohesive, to keep the dialogue flowing, to be part of what keeps us connected instead of divided is incredibly necessary.

The worst mistake of our nation’s history came at its founding, remember, when our forefathers negated the equality of all its inhabitants. Worse than a caste system or a class system, we live in a nation where white men declared women and all people of color — especially black or African — to be less-than or not-even. There isn’t enough ink on the internet to apologize for the complete lack of consideration of those people native to this continent before our English and Spanish forefathers planted flags in North American soil — the exploitation and obliteration of Native Americans is a whole other topic of tragedies. All that’s certain is that ever since the signing of our Constitution, there’s been an aggressive game of catch-up, an aggressive building of tensions, an aggressive means of dividing our citizens and inhabitants into the have’s and the have not’s, and all so that white men could maintain their sensibility of power. Fear of losing that power, fear of alienating those of their likeness, fear of exploring true equality underpins all United States history.

Suck on that, lemondrop.

Truth be told, I am proud to be an American. I am proud to learn about and embrace both the good and bad parts of our history. No nation and no people are perfect, to be certain, and these United States have offered a lot of good to individuals (myself included), to our collective nation, and to the global community. I am also proud to have a voice to offer up these ideas, opinions, and facts. I am proud to have that right and to exercise it as such. I am vigilant in my pursuit to make the discrepancies bolder and easier to suss out. I am confident in my voice and my ability to use it for productive means. And I have hope in my heart that we will break free from the loops of repetition that bog us down.

So, ya know, casually — maybe visit or revisit Ken Burns’ The Civil War. See how it speaks to you. See what kind of mirror it holds up to then vs. now. For me, the reflection is profound. I plan to get quietly lost for a bit in that era of our nation’s history, for certainly it is relevant to where we all stand now. Maybe I’ll run into you, somewhere in the past. Lord knows we’ll all catch up to each other here in the present soon enough.

Originally posted in the Today’s Special 2019 blog on March 5, 2019. More info at wolfstarpress.com.