A second civil war seems far-fetched. But do we ignore the possibility at our peril? Or do we turn it into a self-fulfilling prophecy by talking about it too much?
And we are talking about it a lot. Last week The New York Times published at least four opinion pieces contemplating the prospects of civil war in our increasingly factionalized — and militarized — society.
In a column under the headline “We Need to Think the Unthinkable About Our Country,” Jonathan Stevenson and Steven Simon support the ignore-it-at-our-peril perspective. They say that we should prepare for the prospect that the “next national election will almost inevitably be viciously (perhaps violently) contested.” Yet, they say, “many Americans seem to be whistling past the graveyard of American democracy.”
Their worst-case scenario: “The United States as we know it could come apart at the seams.”
The Times printed, on the same day, a column by David Brooks: “America is Falling Apart at the Seams.”
On the other hand, conservative Times columnist Ross Douthat says to relax. In “Let’s Not Invent a Civil War,” he argues that all this talk of civil war is exaggerated and could do more harm than good.
Douthat suggests a gap between what people say they believe and what they will actually do. Even though a recent Public Religion Research Institute poll found that 30% of Republicans believe that “true American patriots may have to resort to violence in order to save our country,” Douthat is betting that they’re just bluffing.
How concerned should we be about a civil war? Certainly our history includes issues over which we have been willing to fight. In 1791, all it took was a tax on whiskey to spur citizens in Pennsylvania into an insurrection. George Washington had to mobilize an army to subdue it.
Another issue was irresolvable without violence, as well. The abolition of slavery required a civil war. It’s arguable that people today feel as passionately and inflexibly about abortion or gun rights as they did about slavery in 1861.
Slavery required violence because its abolition threatened an economic system based on white supremacy, which is a primary source of much of the tension and division in America today. A long-standing power structure is being subverted by one that is less male and less white. These are the kinds of things that people fight over.
But America in 2022 is very different from America in 1861. Our divisions are not primarily sectional. Partisans live in the cities, as well as in the country, in the North and in the South. We’re unlikely to see a modern-day equivalent of Shiloh.
On the other hand, modern Americans are much, much better armed than they were during the Civil War. In January 2021 — the month of the attempted insurrection and the inauguration of Joe Biden — Americans bought 2 million guns, pushing the total number of firearms owned by civilians to near 400 million.
And the guns are much more powerful than they were in 1861. How many Proud Boys armed with semi-automatic rifles equipped with high-capacity magazines and plenty of ammo would it have taken to turn back Pickett’s Charge on July 3, 1863? A dozen?
This is not your great-great-great-grandfather’s civil war.
Many who join militia groups such as the Proud Boys and Oath Keepers — America is home to 300 such groups — fantasize about taking up arms. Last week Oath Keepers founder Stewart Rhodes was charged, along with 10 others, with “seditious conspiracy” in connection with January 6. They speak longingly of civil war.
But it’s a mistake to imagine that militia groups are the primary threat to our democracy and our domestic tranquility. We have more to fear from disloyal citizens who refuse to accept the outcome of the 2020 election and continue to support an ex-president who attempted to subvert the peaceful transfer of power.
We’ve taken up arms over whiskey and slavery. Democracy is also worth fighting for. A civil war still seems improbable, but blood is likely to be shed. Indeed, it already has been.
(John M. Crisp is an op-ed columnist for Tribune News Service.)
