Talking about the Civil War is a minefield of politics and emotion. As was the case with actual land mines during that war (as developed by Confederate Brigadier General Gabriel J. Rains), some Southern tempers tend to detonate under the slightest pressure, even after 150 years. But it’s not easy, or even appropriate, to tread lightly.
Peachtree City’s proclamation of Confederate History and Heritage Month was read aloud at a City Council meeting recently. Its wording took me aback, and I grew up in the same state as Robert E. Lee. My long-lost cousin Samuel’s Confederate sword is a family heirloom. I “get” the heritage, but only to a point.
This is 2011, generations removed from that most uncivil war. And I had hoped its lessons would be better reflected in modern mention.
The proclamation begins, “April is the month in which the Confederate States of America began a four-year struggle for independence, state rights, individual freedom and local government control ...”
I guess that depends on which individuals and whose freedom we’re talking about. The 4 million men, women and children held in bondage in 1861 struggled much differently.
The proclamation says April 26 is when “Georgians honor the brave men and women of all ethnic backgrounds who served the Confederate States of America.” Well, not exactly.
True, there were Canadians, Europeans, Native Americans and Mexicans in the Confederate ranks. There were also thousands of Jewish soldiers, but their service was conveniently forgotten once the Klan showed up (just ask Leo Frank).
From the accounts I’ve read, black Confederates served mostly as laborers, relatively few as soldiers. And many who fought did so believing (or having been promised) they’d be freed in return.
“Georgia has long cherished its Confederate history and Georgia’s great leaders who made sacrifices on behalf of the Confederate cause,” the proclamation says.
But that way of life was built on broken backs and lives, and it is disingenuous to either contend or pretend that the “Confederate cause” isn’t stained by atrocity. Section 9 of the Confederate Constitution specifically bans restricting “the right of property in Negro slaves.”
As I listened, I realized the only African-American person in the room was the police officer on security duty.
How ironic that the individual there to protect the lives of everyone else was the one person who, in the days of Dixie, wouldn’t have been considered a person at all. What did those words mean to her or her family?
I couldn’t bring myself to even look in her direction.
I understand that there are people for whom certain periods of history hold particular interest for one reason or another. Some Civil War aficionados re-enact the battles like a costumed chess game but not, thank God, the beatings, lynchings or other horrors of the time. I guess it’s easier to make believe than to make amends.
But with the war 150 years past, and with African-Americans now 20 percent of Fayette County’s population, it seems more honorable to mourn the dead — from both sides — without constantly picking at our nation’s deepest wound.
Jill Howard Church lives in Fayette County. Reach her at jillptcblog@aol.com
About the Author
