“Gettysburg—there were some mistakes made there, it’s a sad thing and I’m not going to go into that.”

A couple of weeks ago a heated debate arose in class over the appropriateness of Disney’s proposed plans in the mid-1990s to construct a Civil War park adjacent to the Gettysburg battlefield. My overactive imagination immediately conjured up images of Disney characters reenacting the Battle of Gettysburg, with a Confederate Mickey Mouse at the center of the carnage eviscerating Donald Duck with a bayonet. As a result, I opposed the idea, arguing that the battlefield was “sacred” ground and should not be inadvertently altered by Disney’s crass commercialized endeavors. However, I realized that I missed the entire point of that week’s readings by using the term “sacred.” Whenever historians or the general public describe a public history site as “sacred,” they imply that the site is more of a religious shrine than a secular monument open to reinterpretation and revision. When perceived outsiders, such as American Indians, attempt to revise these cherished narratives, the defenders of the traditional narrative accuse them of heresy and treason (Savage, 4, 10, 14) (Linenthal, 144-148, 154-155, 160-161).

               This opposition to revisionism, of course, is the antithesis of historical thinking. Defenders of “sacred” ground view revisionism as a naive attempt by liberals to “right social wrongs” (Linenthal, 154). What these individuals fail to understand is that historical thinking is a fluid process, requiring historians to ask new questions perennially and revise their previous interpretations of the past. This process is crucial to the survival of the nation if we hope to become a more inclusive society and heal the wounds inflicted by past generations (Savage, 10). If we fail to do this, we risk becoming like “hardcore” Civil-War re-enactors. The Civil War will never end for these individuals as they continue to piss on their clothing and recite meaningless Civil War trivia in a futile to attempt to recreate what they view as a “simpler time.” While some individuals might find it appealing to dress in piss soaked clothing, historic sites must never devolve into the blatant hero worship evidenced from these readings (Horwitz, 9-17, 36-37). As I always like to remind my cousin, we are living in 2013, not 1853. We should treat our historic sites in the same way as the public continues to redefine what it means to be an American (Yes, I realize the previous sentence sucked. As you can tell, I am not the most articulate lad).