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Some thoughts on the Civil War, closure and apology

by Robert Teitelman  |  Published April 12, 2011 at 1:21 PM
CivilWar125x100.jpgThe struggle over the Civil War, which celebrates -- perhaps that's the wrong word -- its birthday today, continues. It's been a 150 years since Fort Sumter was shelled, and Time magazine features a sobbing Abraham Lincoln on the cover with the cover line: "Why We're Still Fighting the Civil War: The endless battle over the war's true cause would make Lincoln weep." Meanwhile, The New York Times features op-eds by documentarian Ken Burns and writer Edward Ball on what The Civil War Means to Us. Burns offers the paradoxical thought that the further we get from the war, the more "central and defining it is." Burns doesn't go much further than that stirring sentiment except to use it as a jumping off point to tell how he and his brother made the PBS "Civil War" documentary. Burns' air of hushed and airless reverence clashes with Ball's central idea (another paradox) that despite our obsession with the Civil War -- books, films, reenactments -- "we cannot come to terms with the Civil War because it presents us with an unacceptable kind of self-knowledge."  Ball may well be right. But why are we surprised? Is it really a shock that Americans layer on different meanings and adopt different, even radically divergent interpretations on such a large, violent and deeply rooted event in American history? In fact, it's a surprise only in a nation that truly believes the kind of therapeutic nostrums that follow every rupture, every shock, every controversy: The nation, goes that truism, must (it's always must, like you must take the cod liver oil) achieve resolution, catharsis, closure, an acceptable self-knowledge; otherwise the "event" occurred for no good reason. But in fact, both historically and emotionally, closure and resolution prove, again and again and no matter how many Ken Burns documentaries we sit through, elusive. Have we achieved closure on the events of Sept. 11? The Vietnam War? The Red Scare of the '30s? The Great Depression? Hell, the Salem witch trials? Indeed, our little brush with depression reopened the wounds and the arguments of the Great Depression. We never achieved closure, we gained distance and, historically speaking, a broad and conventional view of what happened and why, even as historians themselves continue the debate. And suddenly, in 2008 and 2009, the lessons of the New Deal and the slump were once again open for disagreement, sparked in part by House Republic's discovering Amity Shlaes' 2007 book, "The Forgotten Man."
 
(You'll notice we very rarely talk about closure with World War II. That's because we won. It's the Germans and the Japanese who are expected to struggle with their souls and achieve closure -- though when they do we kindly suggest they did it too easily.)
 
These realities sit uncomfortably with several deep-set American beliefs in progress and in the ability of the democratic community to achieve consensus and a single truth. In terms of progress, each one of these wrenching breakdowns will produce a lesson for all Americans. Now this lesson can be either philosophically profound -- Lincoln's Gettysburg Address with its concise reinterpretation of the meaning of the war -- or heart-tugglingly emotional if intellectually vacuous, like the Burns brothers' "Civil War" or, as Ball writes, any number of heroic books about the war itself. As we draw away from the event historically, it gets easier and easier to say, not having been at Cemetery Ridge or in that Antietam cornfield: It was worth it. We eliminated slavery. We kept the Union intact. We excised the original sin of American life (only to bring it back). We rediscovered, thanks to Lincoln, the Declaration of Independence. Even, we cleared the ground for American industrialism. This "why" then is distilled to a set of simple lessons, which are then transmitted through the popular culture and educational system. A conventional wisdom is born. Then we are shocked to discover that unanimity does not exist, even a 150 years later. There are dissenters, fantasists, reactionaries, renegades, paranoids, sophisticated thinkers and rubes. Folks want to wear Confederate uniforms, sing Dixie and wave the stars-and-bars. Roosevelt is Satan. Vietnam was a great crusade. Goldman, Sachs & Co. was a vampire squid.  
 
In fact, "closure" is merely the triumph of one interpretation and set of emotions over others. Similar tendencies play themselves out in controversies far less weighty than the Civil War. Take the controversies over the financial crisis. New York magazine's recent cover package on Wall Street argues implicitly that the money guys "won." An essay by Felix Salmon in that package once again complains that Wall Street did not learn its lesson, that greed and philistinism (in this case the parvenus of hedge fundery serving young wine without food at Davos) have returned, and that Wall Streeters never apologized. Indeed, the apology theme runs through many current scandals and controversies, from Tiger Woods (who did, painfully, but do we accept it?) to Dick Fuld to Charlie Sheen (who brings the therapeutic theme full circle). The apology is the kissing cousin to closure, with roots deep in Christian repentance. But it's also an admission that community norms and the conventional wisdom still have power. By apologizing the community can go forward with a free and unconflicted heart: Its truth goes marching on.
 
We yearn for that undivided heart as we imagine a past unity of purpose. The apology of course is a symbolic gesture that historically speaking has little value. One can imagine all of Wall Street -- however defined -- in one great mass crying out, "I'm sorry," before returning to work seeking once again their own self-interest. But the real point here is one Tocqueville recognized two decades before the Civil War as, yes, a paradox of a democracy like America: Majority rule based on community norms is very powerful. But Americans individually (certainly these days) harbor all kinds of subversive, wacky, even dangerous ideas. The consensus struggles to contain that individuality, in the media, on the Internet, in the history books. We shouldn't be surprised. The fact that we are, tells us that we should discard our self-satisfaction and get out more often. - Robert Teitelman
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Tags: Abraham Lincoln | Amity Shlaes | Civil War | Dick Fuld | Edward Ball | Felx Salmon | Fort Sumter | Goldman Sachs & Co. | Great Depression | Ken Burns | Red Scare | The Forgotten Man
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