In his brief Gettysburg Address, Lincoln ironically said that the world would “little note, nor long remember what we say here….” Of course, what he said is one of the most, if not the most, enduring speeches. Today, Gettysburg is virtually a shrine to the “brave men” who “gave the last full measure of devotion.”
Not all battlefields have similar standing, but maybe they should. The problem is that except for Antarctica, every continent has its share of remembered and unremembered battlefields. The number of places where humans have lost their lives either defending or attacking is large. So, why should Gettysburg be a special place? Why is its ground, in the words of Lincoln, “consecrated”?
There are other places, both on land and water, that we remember sufficiently to consider highly significant because of battles: Marathon, Gaugamela, Lepanto, Constantinople, Waterloo, and Midway. Although we report on battles we consider significant world-changing events, other battles, however horrendous for their loss of life ended in just that and little more. Loss of life: Verdun comes to mind. Verdun was not a strategic locale, but both sides committed arms and men in ever increasing numbers until the casualties were overwhelming. Neither side gained anything significant.
One could argue that Gettysburg did not affect world affairs, but the defense of the Union led to its eventual continuation. And few could question that the survival of the United States was a world-altering event. Amazing how a seemingly small town in Pennsylvania was the place of a pivotal battle!
In fact, no. It’s not amazing. It’s the nature of battles. Forces gather, sometimes without time to choose place. Place seems to choose its own destiny. Numerous battles have occurred unintentionally or have been turned on the nature of place. The setting dictates the battle’s beginning, its process, and its ending. A muddy field was Henry V’s ally in his victory against the French at Agincourt in 1415. Gettysburg’s hills and intervening lowlands shaped the battle, and its location had the North ironically approaching the town from the south and the South approaching from the North.
Lincoln did not have to note that the world “can never forget what they did here.” The battle turned the Civil War and preserved a country that would become a superpower. But every place—short of the snowy world of Antarctica—has probably been in the proximity of a battle that the world has neither noted nor, if noted, long remembered.
You might now live in a place once “consecrated” by the deaths of those who fought for what they believed to be significant. In North America ancient battles could be more than 15,000 years old; in Europe and Asia older; and those in Africa well beyond our knowing in the depths of our prehumen ancestry. In all those battles, those who died never achieved the realization of that supposed significance for which they fought.
Maybe, with the exception of Antarctica, all places have been, in a sense, consecrated in battles long forgotten, battles between cultures that no longer exist. Maybe, all places will undergo repeated consecrations as new cultures war. Gettysburg itself might in some long distant future become a renewed battleground where men will die for something of significance that they, like the soldiers buried at the Civil War memorial site, will never realize. Most places were probably “significant” enough at one time to serve as battlegrounds. Those of us who occupy those places might never realize that how we came to be, how we live, and how we view the world were all decided in such acts of “consecration.”
Not all battlefields have similar standing, but maybe they should. The problem is that except for Antarctica, every continent has its share of remembered and unremembered battlefields. The number of places where humans have lost their lives either defending or attacking is large. So, why should Gettysburg be a special place? Why is its ground, in the words of Lincoln, “consecrated”?
There are other places, both on land and water, that we remember sufficiently to consider highly significant because of battles: Marathon, Gaugamela, Lepanto, Constantinople, Waterloo, and Midway. Although we report on battles we consider significant world-changing events, other battles, however horrendous for their loss of life ended in just that and little more. Loss of life: Verdun comes to mind. Verdun was not a strategic locale, but both sides committed arms and men in ever increasing numbers until the casualties were overwhelming. Neither side gained anything significant.
One could argue that Gettysburg did not affect world affairs, but the defense of the Union led to its eventual continuation. And few could question that the survival of the United States was a world-altering event. Amazing how a seemingly small town in Pennsylvania was the place of a pivotal battle!
In fact, no. It’s not amazing. It’s the nature of battles. Forces gather, sometimes without time to choose place. Place seems to choose its own destiny. Numerous battles have occurred unintentionally or have been turned on the nature of place. The setting dictates the battle’s beginning, its process, and its ending. A muddy field was Henry V’s ally in his victory against the French at Agincourt in 1415. Gettysburg’s hills and intervening lowlands shaped the battle, and its location had the North ironically approaching the town from the south and the South approaching from the North.
Lincoln did not have to note that the world “can never forget what they did here.” The battle turned the Civil War and preserved a country that would become a superpower. But every place—short of the snowy world of Antarctica—has probably been in the proximity of a battle that the world has neither noted nor, if noted, long remembered.
You might now live in a place once “consecrated” by the deaths of those who fought for what they believed to be significant. In North America ancient battles could be more than 15,000 years old; in Europe and Asia older; and those in Africa well beyond our knowing in the depths of our prehumen ancestry. In all those battles, those who died never achieved the realization of that supposed significance for which they fought.
Maybe, with the exception of Antarctica, all places have been, in a sense, consecrated in battles long forgotten, battles between cultures that no longer exist. Maybe, all places will undergo repeated consecrations as new cultures war. Gettysburg itself might in some long distant future become a renewed battleground where men will die for something of significance that they, like the soldiers buried at the Civil War memorial site, will never realize. Most places were probably “significant” enough at one time to serve as battlegrounds. Those of us who occupy those places might never realize that how we came to be, how we live, and how we view the world were all decided in such acts of “consecration.”
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