Commemorating the American Civil War

Since around 2004, my main area of research has been on contemporary literature and film of the Spanish Civil War and Francoism. Therefore, whenever I hear "civil war," my first reaction is to think of Spain. The American Civil War (1861-65) is, quite frankly, something that has never really piqued my interest. I guess when I think of this period of American history, the image that comes to mind is my high school A.P (advanced placement) history class, where the teacher spent a large part of the period reading the newspaper while we "did homework." I did not learn anything in that class, and I did not get college credit for it either (instead, in college, at the wonderful suggestion of an adviser, I ended up taking "Black Experience I and II," which were two of the best history classes never taught in high school -- at least, not mine). In addition to my dreary high school history experience, the American Civil War also brings to mind Civil War re-enactments or the burning passion some still feel for the Confederate flag. It's difficult for me to relate to the desire to live or pay homage to our history in either of these ways.

Over the past few weeks, I have begun to notice more and more mentions of the American Civil War. One of my favorite poetry sites, Poetry Daily, featured James Doyle's "Civil War Photograph." I heard that the USPS will be releasing commemorative Civil War stamps in 2011. And today's NYT features a new occasional series, "Disunion," which "follows the Civil War as it unfolded." Of course, the renewed interest in the war is due to the fact that 2011 is the 150th anniversary of its beginning. We are sure to see an increase in the number of films, publications and commentary -- and probably, commemorative activities -- on the war.

The 150th commemoration of the start of the American Civil War comes at a time of extreme political vitriol in the United States. It is not at all surprising to encounter some rather casual and more explicit Civil War allusions in the verbal sparring between Democrats, Republicans and Tea Partiers and in the neo-confederate tributes to the so-called "War for Southern Independence" such as the ones below:

• April 2010: governor Bob McDonnell (R-VA) declares "Confederate History Month," failing to mention slavery as a cause for the Civil War 
• June 2010: in reference to the Arizona immigration bill, Glenn Beck claims "I think we're headed for a civil war"
• October 19, 2010: Time magazine publishes the commentary "Will the Federal Reserve's Ben Bernanke Cause a Civil War?"
• December 2010: South Carolina's "Secession Gala," which remembered the state as the first to secede from the U.S., was met by protests (of course, "states' rights" is a huge Tea Party focal point, so it's a convenient way to tie the Civil War memory to current day agendas)

I must admit, I feel a new interest in learning about the American Civil War, thanks to studying the Spanish Civil War -- and particularly, how it continues to be remembered. But as with the SCW, I am especially intrigued by how the memory of war continues to mark the contemporary political landscape. Obviously, there is quite a difference between "remembering" a war that began 150 years ago and one that occurred in the 20th century (2011 is 75 years since the start of the war in Spain). The case of Spain is complicated, besides, by 36 years of dictatorship, the "pact of silence" and the fact that mass graves continue to be uncovered today (though of course, a majority of these graves are not from the war itself, but the brutal postwar repression). In the U.S., no one can say they recall the war, while in Spain, the war's survivors have passed or will do so soon. Nonetheless, the shelf life of a civil war is long. 150 years may seem like an eternity, but  many are more than happy to make the past quite present, if only to help feed current political interests. In that, Spain and the U.S. have something in common.

Documentary Film: "La isla," directed by Uli Stelzner

La isla is a documentary film on the Guatemalan Civil War, directed by Uli Stelzner. I first read about this film yesterday, in a very personal review on the blog CineSobreTodo.

The film's description on SilverDocs reads:

In this artfully rendered film, Guatemala’s violent history of repression at the hands of extremist political regimes is laid bare following the discovery of a vast archive of secret police documents. Found near the site of La Isla—a notorious extrajudicial prison—the cache details with chilling specificity the surveillance, torture and killing of thousands of civilians targeted by the country’s succession of fanatical right-wing governments. As a team of dedicated forensic specialists undertakes the arduous task of sorting through the files, the voices of the disappeared rise again to challenge the culture of impunity that has plagued this troubled nation.

Interdisciplinary Colloquium on War and Memorialization

From: CFP, U Penn

Interdisciplinary Colloquium: Conflict, Memory and Memorialisation: War and European Culture in the Twentieth Century, 17-19 Jul

full name / name of organization:
Archbishop Desmond Tutu Centre for War and Peace Studies, Liverpool Hope University, Liverpool, UK

contact email:
phillim@hope.ac.uk

cfp categories:
cultural_studies_and_historical_approaches
ethnicity_and_national_identity
twentieth_century_and_beyond

contributions to an international colloquium dedicated to examining questions of conflict and memory, focusing on the legacies within Europe of the two global conflicts of the twentieth century and their mythologisation through processes of memorialisation. The principal aim is to explore how music, literature and other arts have mediated the experience of war and shaped historical consciousness in these contexts: this will inform analysis of the way individual and collective memories have changed and developed over time, and their significance for the ongoing formation and articulation of identities in European societies and cultures.

The keynote speaker will be Professor Jay Winter, Charles J. Stille Professor of History at Yale
Other confirmed participants include:

Tim Cole (University of Bristol, UK)
Rachel Cowgill (Liverpool Hope University, UK)
Nalini Ghuman (Mills College, US)
Elaine Kelly (University of Edinburgh, UK)
Terry Phillips (Liverpool Hope University, UK)
Christopher Scheer (Utah State University, US)
David Taylor (University of Huddersfield, UK)
Guy Tourlamain (Liverpool Hope University, UK)
Laura Watson (National University of Ireland, Maynooth, Eire)

Abstracts of 200 words should be sent by email to Dr Terry Phillips (phillim@hope.ac.uk) by 28 February 2010. Places are limited, and will be allocated to enhance disciplinary, geographical, and chronological coverage. The colloquium website will be available shortly, but travel and location information can be found at http://www.hope.ac.uk/gettingtohope

* By web submission at 02/14/2010 - 17:16

Naming the Dead of WWI

From: BBC News (29 Jan 2010)

Memory-related quote: "'Even if his body isn't found, in some respects his memory is even more alive now. By researching what sort of person he was, we now know much more about him,' Mr Parker says."

The lost soldiers of Fromelles

By Peter Jackson
BBC News

The first of the remains of 250 World War I soldiers found in France are being reburied with military honours after painstaking efforts to identify them. How do you put the right name on a headstone after so long?

When the first chipped and battle-scarred bones were excavated from a muddy field in northern France last May, the story of the forgotten battle of Fromelles began to emerge.

The remains of 250 British and Australian soldiers had lain undiscovered for 93 years since falling on the Western Front.

Boots, purses, toothbrushes and other personal artefacts lay amongst the twisted skeletons at Pheasant Wood, offering partial clues about the men's identities.

But it is the unique genetic codes within these remains that offer the best chance of putting names to each unknown soldier.

So far, more than 800 UK families who think they may have lost a relative at Fromelles have given DNA samples, but many will be disappointed.

The man whose job it is to help identify the soldiers says it is like finding a needle in a haystack, albeit with a very good metal detector.

"The problem with DNA that's been in the ground for 90 years is it degrades in quality and quantity," says molecular geneticist Dr Peter Jones.

"If it's a very acidic site, there's no chance of DNA at all because acids attack DNA rapidly. If it's dry and arid like in a desert, you get good DNA. If it's wet, less good."

The remains extracted from Fromelle's muddy burial pits have produced small but workable amounts of DNA, says Dr Jones. The teeth, which preserve well because they are encased in enamel, give by far the best samples.

"The hardest part is finding the right families and getting them to come forward... you can have good DNA profiles, but no family to match it up to."

Although 250 bodies have been recovered from the graves, it's thought about 1,500 British and 5,500 Australian troops fell in the battle, making it all the harder to match.

And when it comes to matching DNA samples across several generations, Dr Jones says the methods are far from perfect.

Unlike the seven "markers" used for more exact matches on the National DNA Database, he only has two at his disposal - the Y (paternal) and mitrochondrial (maternal) profiles.

"If we had the children of the soldiers, we could use the same markers as the DNA database. But because we are three generations away, the markers get diluted out through each mother and father."

Families searching for their ancestors have been asked to give maternal and paternal samples - preferably two each - using a simple cheek swab.

The DNA results will be added to the anthropological, archaeological and historical information to try to get positive identifications.

Families will be told sometime after March, once the remains of all 250 soldiers have been buried. Their final resting place will be a new war cemetery nearby, the first to be built in 50 years.

The £3m project, funded by the British and Australian governments, is overseen by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

Waiting for news will be Richard Parker, 47, who has spent 25 years trying to retrace the footsteps of his ancestor Leonard Twamley. His father's uncle was just 19 when he volunteered for the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. Six months later, the 20-year-old died at Fromelles.

"He was an ordinary working class lad from Coventry working in a cycle factory, who gave his life because it was considered his patriotic duty to do so."

Although interested in Len's story since his 20s, Mr Parker did not know he was killed at Fromelles until an amateur historian contacted him last year.

Since then he has made a pilgrimage to the French village with his father, who supplied DNA, along with Len's surviving nephews and nieces.

"Even if his body isn't found, in some respects his memory is even more alive now. By researching what sort of person he was, we now know much more about him," Mr Parker says.

"My grandmother died without knowing where Len was buried... this would bring proper closure to a family tragedy that goes back 95 years."

Unknown soldiers

The bodies that remain untraceable will be buried with a headstone marked simply "Known Unto God".

Dr Jones fears many will suffer this fate. He estimates the final number identified to be up to 100, but more likely tens.

Even if there is a DNA match, it may not necessarily be the right family because some DNA profiles are relatively common.

Adoptions, women who married and changed names, and paternity issues can also throw a spanner in the works. Other families simply die out.

But a match can be made through cousins, nephews or nieces on the family line. So if a family is missing a paternal link, they can trace the soldier's father, grandfather or brother, then locate their living relatives.

Dr Jones says one family went back seven generations on the maternal side then came forward five to find a suitable relative.

Forensic anthropologist Professor Margaret Cox says the team is so reliant on DNA matches as 90% of British enlistment records were destroyed in the Blitz.

And the painstaking methods of extracting and cataloguing remains have been refined at the scenes of genocide and war crimes in Rwanda, the Balkans and Iraq.

As at those sites, the bodies recovered gave clues to their fate - in this case, fractured bones showing damage from machine guns, rifles, mortar shells and shrapnel. But they were buried in deep graves with order and respect.

"You try not to imagine what it was like, it makes it difficult to do our work," she says, adding that this is easier said than done at times.

What brought the tragedy home were the artefacts - the inscribed bibles and lucky charms.

For her, the two most poignant came from Australian soldiers. The first was a small lucky charm in the shape of a boomerang, to symbolise returning home.

The other was the return half of a railway ticket from Freemantle to Perth, intended for the soldier's journey home to his family.

Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/8473444.stm

Published: 2010/01/29 12:05:37 GMT

Resenting the Past

Just because it happened some 60 years ago, doesn't mean the past is dead and gone.

From: BBC News

German Heligoland islands still a minefield for Britons

Germany's Heligoland islands were part of the British empire in the 19th Century - but they were used to test British bombers after World War II and a vast explosion in 1947 caused massive destruction. Resentment still lingers, as Tom Blass discovered.

I was fighting off the cold with beer and bratwurst when my friend Judy suggested I speak to the boys in blue. Three men in uniform were nursing gluhwein in a corner of the makeshift bar that was really no more than a tent.

Crime is not one of the waves lapping at Heligoland's shores. The last murder - a crime of passion, apparently - took place more than 200 years ago. Few of the 1,600 inhabitants even bother to lock their doors.

But if not the Bronx, this small fog-bound candidate for the lost city of Atlantis still harbours secrets.

In fact, it turned out that my new drinking companions were not policemen after all, but a crack team of bomb disposal experts flown in from Schleswig-Holstein on the mainland.

"Busy day?" I asked.

In reply, I got a cold, but curious stare. Then one of the trio broke into a slow smile. "Two British bombs," he said. "Tomorrow we will send you the bill."

The other drinkers, Judy included, roared with good-natured laughter and there was another round of gluhweins, eiergrogs and schnapps. The joke, it seemed, had made everybody's day - and nudged away a degree or two of frost.

But it was more than just the usual Anglo-German banter.

Devastating blast

For eight decades, Heligoland, seized during the Napoleonic Wars, was an unlikely outpost of British Empire in the North Sea.

But Germans still came. Tourists flocked here to swim and flirt while "dangerous" intellectuals pitched up to escape prison and the censor. A charming, bucolic touch was added by the islanders themselves, their quaint customs and their ancient dialect.

But in 1890, it all came to an end when the British government, as part of a colonial swap with Germany, traded Heligoland for the island of Zanzibar.

This delighted the German Kaiser, but outraged Queen Victoria who said "next we'd be giving up Gibraltar" and that she thought it was a "bad business".

So did the Heligolanders. Their idyll rapidly became a fortress and while the tourists still arrived on the steamer from Hamburg, the halcyon days were over. But grimmer changes were to come.

Erich Kruess, the island's archivist, was 13 when, on 18 April 1945, the Royal Air Force launched a sortie of 900 bombers. He remembers later emerging from a bunker into a cratered moonscape and being evacuated to Hamburg by ship. He, like all the other islanders, would not be able to return for another seven years.

He finds it hardest to understand what the British did in 1947. They decided to destroy the Germans' war-time U-boat pens and set off a huge explosion codenamed Big Bang.

This caused massive devastation. Buildings all around were destroyed, and a plume of smoke was sent spiralling high into the sky.

For another four years, the British used it as a testing ground for their bombers. It was even touted as a good place to test H-bombs until attention turned to the Bikini atoll.

Now only the newness of the houses and the broken bricks extruding through the turf give any hint of the scale of destruction.

His mild tone of voice belying any evident outrage, Erich says: "We were not even at war then. The British built Heligoland. Some of us had British passports and we never supported Hitler."

Much as he mourns for the buildings, he also grieves for the loss of a social fabric which had remained strong even in the years of exile. He fears the present generation cares little about the island's history. As a result, the islanders have become strangers to one another, he says.

Resilience

But the young beg to differ. In fact, they complain about the way that everybody on the island knows everything about everyone.

Even at Krebs nightclub it was clear that the youth contingent, however bleary-eyed, does feel engaged with the island's past.

At midnight, Judy's son Sven and I were getting on like a house on fire. Two hours later, it was our conversation that was getting heated. Between slugs of vodka, the 30-something Metallica fan began to vent his anger at what the British had done.

"They tried to destroy us. But look - Lang Anna is still standing!" notionally pointing towards the guano-clad pillar of rock which is to the island what the Eiffel Tower is to Paris.

Sven's friends gave a chorus of approval before reverting to a dance-floor the size of a dustbin lid. "Heligoland will always be German!" one shouted as a parting shot.

"What you have to understand about Heligoland…" said Sven. Then the diatribe juddered to a halt, overtaken by the vodka.

The island, I was learning, was a minefield in every sense of the word. "Is it hard work disposing of these bombs?" I asked the man from Schleswig-Holstein.

He sipped his gluhwein thoughtfully. "Yes," he said, "because they lie well hidden, close to the surface. Anything can set them off."

Or anyone, I thought. Anywhere. And I ordered another bratwurst to fend off the chill.

How to listen to: From Our Own Correspondent

BBC Radio 4: Saturdays, 1130. Second weekly edition on Thursdays, 1100 (some weeks only)

On the failed search for Federico García Lorca

For those of us that have been following the case of "Lorca's grave," the news today that the Spanish poet's burial site has turned up NOTHING is quite disappointing, though it should not be entirely unexpected. For years, Lorca's biographer, Ian Gibson, has insisted -- along with others -- that the site contained Lorca's remains, and the sign officially marking the location ("Lorca eran todos") drew many visitors each year. Gibson first learned of the grave's purported location from a man known as "Manuel el comunista," who claimed to have buried the poet here. Today, it would appear that that testimony has proven faulty.

Certainly, I can understand and respect, particularly on a scholarly level, Gibson's passion for locating the poet's remains. After all, Gibson has dedicated his life's work to Lorca. However, I am unsure what locating Lorca would mean, particularly because the poet's family has, up until recently, opposed excavation of the site. Would finding Lorca mean, simply, giving the poet a symbolic, dignified re-burial? Would it mean re-writing what we know about his final days? Would the so-called "Lorca case" serve to illustrate the challenges faced by forensic anthropologists and archaeologists in other locations throughout Spain? Would it shed light on victims' families, and the bureaucratic nightmare many of them face when trying to locate, exhume and identify their loved ones?

I am a lover of Lorca's poetry and drama, as well as his essays on "duende" and flamenco. But my interest in this case has to do with the following points:

• the evolution of a "site of memory"
• tourism and sites of memory
  
• the intersection of personal and collective memory
• Lorca as a representative "victim" of the Spanish Civil War (and especially, an icon of the left)
• the contested excavation site and the media portrayal of the case
  
• the other, less visible men purportedly buried with Lorca
  

From: BBC News

Spanish dig fails to find Lorca

Excavations aimed at finding the remains of Spanish poet and dramatist Federico Garcia Lorca have drawn a blank, officials say.

The dig produced "not one bone, item of clothing or bullet shell", said Begona Alvarez, justice minister of Andalucia.

Lorca was murdered at the start of the Spanish Civil War in 1936 by right-wing supporters of Gen Francisco Franco.

The site on a hillside outside Granada was believed for decades to be a mass grave of civil war victims.

Correspondents say the failure casts doubt on whether the poet's remains will ever be found.

The two-month excavation near the town of Alfacar - carried out under tight security - had been requested by relatives of other men believed buried at the spot.

It was one of several aimed at locating those still missing from Spain's bitter civil war.

"No remains of human bones have appeared or other signs belonging to civil war graves," a report by archaeologists at the University of Granada said.

Ms Alvarez said the soil was only 40cm (16in) deep, making it too shallow for a grave.

Lorca was 38 when he died, murdered by fascists for his left-wing views, Republican sympathies and homosexuality.

He is best known for tragedies such as Blood Wedding and his poetry collections Poet in New York and Gypsy Ballads.

For a much more detailed report in Spanish, click here.

The mask of Ira Hayes

This is another image (left) I have shared with classes on occasion, mostly due to its iconic status in U.S. collective memory and the way it was later re-staged during 9-11 (below).

This article just appeared today on one of the men behind the Iwo Jima photo, who was featured in the recent film Flags of Our Fathers. The Ira Hayes story is a tragic reminder of the ways in which politics and politicians can manipulate the image of the "war hero" while disregarding the human being behind that image of patriotism and loyalty.

Iwo Jima flag raiser's body 'was never sent to rest'

By Dennis Wagner, USA TODAY

When Ira Hayes was alive, his image was captured in one of the most famous war photographs ever taken — the World War II image of U.S. military personnel raising the flag over Iwo Jima.

Last month, 54 years since his death, his family learned that another image of Hayes, a face mask, had been cast in plaster while he lay in a Phoenix mortuary. The mask of Hayes, a Pima Indian from Bapchule, Ariz., was made without the family's knowledge and ended up on display at the Gilbert Ortega Museum Gallery of Scottsdale.

"In Pima culture, when you pass on, everything you own is supposed to go with you," says Sharon Cook, a Hayes family member. "They say because of this, Ira's body was never sent to rest."

Kenneth Hayes, 78, received his brother's mask in November from the gallery. Hours later, relatives returned it to the Gila River Indian Reservation where Ira Hayes was born and died, according to Larry Cook, Hayes' grand-nephew.

The mask was broken to bits and buried near the graves of his parents, Sharon Cook says.

The discovery of the mask adds one more chapter to the odyssey of Hayes, who has been depicted in books, films (including Clint Eastwood's Flags of Our Fathers) and music.

Amid the final battles of World War II, Cpl. Ira Hamilton Hayes, four other Marines and a Navy corpsman were captured by Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal as they raised the Stars and Stripes.

The 1945 picture, which came to symbolize American courage and patriotism, transformed a troubled Indian kid into an unwilling national celebrity. Hayes was one of only 27 of the company of 250 to survive the battle on Mount Suribachi, according to historical reports.

President Harry Truman declared Hayes a hero and ordered him back to the states to join a tour raising money through the sale of war bonds.

According to S.D. Nelson, who wrote, Quiet Hero: The Ira Hayes Story, the 23-year-old corporal considered his fallen comrades the true heroes. After his discharge from the Marine Corps, Nelson wrote, Hayes returned to his home in the poverty-stricken Gila River Indian Community, seeking solitude — and often turning to alcohol. Hayes died of exposure in 1955 at the age of 32 after getting into a drunken fight during a poker game. His body was found lying in a creek, Larry Cook said.

Gilbert Ortega Jr., the gallery president, says the history of the mask can be found in a one-page document written in 1986 by Shirley Nelson of Yuma: A Phoenix artist named Hortense Johnson went to the funeral parlor and made a cast of Hayes' face. It was her intent to make a bust of Ira.

After Johnson's death, her husband gave the mask to Nelson and her mother. "My mom and I were the only people who knew what it was, so he gave it to us," she says.

In the early 1980s, artist Robert Yellowhair expressed an interest in making a sculpture of Hayes. Nelson says she gave the mask to Yellowhair.

Yellowhair never created the sculpture and in 1995 gave the mask to Gilbert Ortega Sr., owner of Native American art and jewelry stores.

"My dad always prided himself on the mask," Ortega Jr. says. "There's no way to put a value on something like that."

Larry Cook and his great uncle, Kenneth approached Ortega Jr. about donating the mask to Ira's descendants. "I believe it still has the spirit in there, and that's what led the family here," Ortega Jr. says.

Wagner reports for the Arizona Republic

Tony Blair - "Let History Judge"

Question of the day: when politicians say "let history judge," how do they frame their roles in that political process? The role of their constituents and fellow citizens?

From: TypicallySpanish.com

Tony Blair to El País: It is history which must judge if the decision to invade Iraq was correct

By m.p. - Nov 29, 2009 - 3:30 PM

The former UK Prime Minister told the newspaper that he would again do everything he could to expel Saddam Hussein

The UK’s former Prime Minister, Tony Blair, was in Madrid last week, and included a journalist from El País in a round of interviews which were organised for last Thursday. The Chilcot Inquiry into Britain’s involvement in Iraq began in the UK last week, and the interviewer, José Manuel Clavo, asked Mr Blair if he would take the same decision again to invade.

Mr Blair answered ‘We would have to take into account that the information we received turned out to be incorrect,’ but added, ‘If you are asking me if I would again do everything I could to expel Saddam, the answer, clearly, is yes’. And when asked if, looking back, he had any doubts or anything he regretted, the reply was, ‘I always say that what came after deposing Saddam was much worse than we could have foreseen’.

It is history, Mr Blair said, which must be the judge of whether the decision was correct or not.

The Chilcot Inquiry opened last Tuesday and this week’s Mail on Sunday has revealed that Tony Blair may be questioned over a memo from the UK’s Attorney General which had warned him that an invasion to depose Saddam Hussein would be in breach of international law. The paper said the letter from Lord Goldsmith was sent to the Prime Minister eight months before the war, and claims that Goldsmith was ‘gagged’ and a cover-up was ordered by Blair.

Goldsmith is said to have been under such pressure to keep quiet about the letter, which was allegedly even kept from the Cabinet, that he lost a massive amount of weight and threatened to resign, before he eventually gave qualified legal backing to the conflict. The letter is now understood to be in the possession of the inquiry and both Mr Blair and Lord Goldsmith will likely be questioned about it when they are called to give evidence next year.