In this uncertain, though best of all possible worlds, it begins to be apparent that the major tourist-bait attractions conceived to celebrate the centennial of the Civil War should be called off or understood for what they are. There is ample reason to commemorate the conflict which brought an end to chattel slavery and made us a union in fact beyond the power of legalistic, hair-splitting sophistry to destroy. Articles, books, discussion groups, and actions of commemoration which have purpose and dignity are excellent.
But what we now have are increasing numbers of persons wandering about the South wearing sleazy-imitations of Confederate uniforms, growing beards, making ancient wounds bleed again, reviving Ku Klux Klans, recreating old battles, and otherwise doing a great disservice to the memory of those who fought and died in the war of 1861-65.
South Carolina has invited the National Civil War Commission to Charleston and, on learning a respected Negro woman, a citizen of New Jersey, was on that state’s delegation, promptly barred her from participation. This has a certain unbelievable crassness about it.
After all, the Civil War was not an all-white affair. There were Negro regiments on both sides. And while it is customary to say the war was not fought over slavery this is only technically true. Without slavery there would have been no war. The South acknowledges a debt of gratitude to the thousands of slaves who, during the four years of war, behaved with such understanding and good will that they left legends yet handed down in some families. That Charleston should insist on having a segregated version of the war 100 years after it began is one of the more incredible stories of our time.
There is to be a so-called replay of the Battle of Bull Run at a cost of some $200,000. This will be, at best, a travesty in comparison. Will they, one wonders, show the carriages filled with congressmen and some of the more fancy ladies of pleasure who drove out from Washington in 1861 with hampers of picnic food and iced champagne to watch men die?
Some of the more than 4,000 who died there that day, looking down from the ramparts of that Valhalla to which all good soldiers go, may be able to smile at the 1961 version of that contest. But they will hardly laugh out loud. Most of those who fought there on that spring day were untrained youngsters in new, ill-fitting uniforms and with strange, little-understood muskets in their hands. But what dignity or reward will there be in a school-boy charade with popguns inadequately re-enacting so terrible a day? Once was enough.
A study of the Civil War is recommended. It is well to relearn that it need not have been fought. Unhappily, it got into the hands of the extremists on both sides.
But let all who read note well one basic fact.
Getting on board with extremists is something like boarding an aircraft. One cannot get off until it lands. And only the pilot can bring it down. The pages of history are filled with the tragedy of those who entrusted themselves to traveling with the extremists of their time and who crashed with them.
