The fact that monuments in public spaces erected in honor of leaders of the Confederacy should be removed shall be taken as a given. As has been made abundantly clear through a study of primary documents from the Confederacy, their cause was to defend slavery on the basis of anti-blackness (Coates). This is not worth honor. These men were, by-and-large, traitors to their country. This is not worth honor. Many of them saw the commercial gains given to them through the institution of slavery to be superior to America’s supposed higher values of freedom and equality. The history of these statues’ erection runs in the same vein and flow of history as radical, violent, anti-black vigilantism. For that, and for the current efforts to make long-due reparations for the violent history of anti-blackness in this country, these statues deserve to be taken down.
The monuments on battlefields, Gettysburg in particular, should be viewed in a different light than those in town centers such as Richmond and Charleston. These latter statues cast long shadows over the citizens of these cities – citizens that are made up of a far more diverse population of people than those depicted in the statues or even those who erected the statues themselves. It is inconsistent with current values to venerate these men, and by extension their cause, in a public space inhabited by those they specifically sought to dehumanize and subjugate. The space of the Gettysburg battlefield is a reserved place away from the traffic of the public domain. Gettysburg has been painstakingly maintained in the condition it was in over 150 years ago. The space is one of memory. Memory of men who, for many reasons, fought on this ground. People have continued to return to Gettysburg to reflect on the way Gettysburg encapsulates the Civil War.
The Confederacy existed to defend the institution of slavery. The children of the soldiers in both the Union and Confederate armies worked to erect statues in memory of participation in the bloodiest battle of that conflict. With the aid of a multitude of institutions, racism and anti-blackness have persisted since the end of the Civil War. These are all parts of the long, complex history of the United States of America. Chapters of how the American people relate themselves to their identity, within and without the practice of slavery, are on display at Gettysburg. These statues in this place are different from statues in town squares or in front of courthouses. They are not simply markers of where Pickett’s Charge took place, or where Lee stood on those days in July, or even in the names of places like “Little Round Top” and “Devil’s Den.” These markers and monuments serve as a field to which people can go back to learn and reflect on that battle which encapsulated the entirety of America’s second great battle for self-identity. People may not agree with their motivations, certainly, but they were still a part of the story that they are a part of. Should America be, or is America currently erecting statues to Robert E. Lee? No. Has America done this? Yes; you can go and see the evidence of it at Gettysburg.
Gettysburg is more than just a battlefield in Pennsylvania. Gettysburg is the place where America has time and again wrestled with its own identity. It was not long after the battle that Americans returned to the battlefield for this purpose. At the commemoration of the Soldier’s National Cemetery some four-and-a-half months after the close of the battle, Americans flocked together to reflect on it’s significance. That reflection is best encapsulated in the word’s of President Abraham Lincoln, who, on that day, delivered the now world-famous lines
“…we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”
This speech was one of the first exercises in making sense out of the history of an event and its significance. What was this fight over? What does it mean to American society? Lincoln was preceded at this event by Edward Everett, one of the most celebrated public orators of his day. Everett’s nearly two-hour speech consisted of lengthy illustrations of historical battles that defined national character. Upon hearing Lincoln’s speech, Everett is quoted as saying “I should be glad, if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion, in two hours, as you did in two minutes.” Today, Americans can travel to Gettysburg to wrestle with their own, often contradictory, notion of self-identity as being a part of this country. They can also see, scattered over the battlefield in places of significance to troop movement and placement, signs where generations past have come time and again to Gettysburg for that self-same purpose. It cannot be denied that the ground is that hallowed, consecrated place where America wrestles with it’s own self-identity. To remove evidence of past generations efforts at this notion would be to deny future generations the opportunity to wrestle with this as well.
It is not simply enough to understand history. An understanding of history is based in the historiography of past generations, how they viewed and retold history. The memorials at Gettysburg, like the battlefield itself, must serve as not only a meditation on history, but how relationships to that history have changed and evolved over time. Through a contemplation of how past generations stood in that place and meditated on the same question, Americans can begin to broaden their understanding of their own story.