Product Description

The Civil War is often portrayed as the most brutal war in America's history, a premonition of twentieth-century slaughter and carnage. In challenging this view, Mark E. Neely, Jr., considers the war's destructiveness in a comparative context, revealing the sense of limits that guided the conduct of American soldiers and statesmen.

Neely begins by contrasting Civil War behavior with U.S. soldiers' experiences in the Mexican War of 1846. He examines Price's Raid in Missouri for evidence of deterioration in the restraints imposed by the customs of war; and in a brilliant analysis of Philip Sheridan's Shenandoah Valley campaign, he shows that the actions of U.S. cavalrymen were selective and controlled. The Mexican war of the 1860s between French imperial forces and republicans provided a new yardstick for brutality: Emperor Maximilian's infamous Black Decree threatened captured enemies with execution. Civil War battles, however, paled in comparison with the unrestrained warfare waged against the Plains Indians. Racial beliefs, Neely shows, were a major determinant of wartime behavior.

Destructive rhetoric was rampant in the congressional debate over the resolution to avenge the treatment of Union captives at Andersonville by deliberately starving and freezing to death Confederate prisoners of war. Nevertheless, to gauge the events of the war by the ferocity of its language of political hatred is a mistake, Neely argues. The modern overemphasis on violence in Civil War literature has led many scholars to go too far in drawing close analogies with the twentieth century's "total war" and the grim guerrilla struggles of Vietnam.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #102978 in Books
• Published on: 2007-11-30
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Hardcover
• 288 pages

Review
In a perceptive and rigorously argued call to resist the temptation to describe the Civil War as an unusually destructive or brutal war, Mark Neely finds new ways to examine old questions and to challenge prevailing interpretations. This is another first-rate work from one of the best and most imaginative scholars working in the field of Civil War history.
--Gary W. Gallagher, author of The Confederate War (20071125)

Neely tackles a fascinating and important topic: were terror and brutality a key part of the Civil War? He makes a compelling case that the combat was more controlled than we now often accept. His account is original­-in some cases clearly pathbreaking­-and his tone passionate and gripping. This is a major contribution that will capture a wide readership.
--Ari Kelman, author of A River and Its City

An intriguing new book...Neely argues forcefully and thoughtfully for a more realistic, less gory understanding of the great war...Whatever you think of Neely's arguments, you cannot reject them as poorly conceived or loosely defended. He is a thoughtful expert who delivers a book that you cannot read without transforming your view of the Civil War and its place in American history.
--Cameron McWhirter (Atlanta Journal-Constitution )

Impressive and lively.
--David Waldstreicher (Boston Globe )

A seminal work on a big issue, The Civil War and the Limits of Destruction should stir up much productive discussion.
--John Cimprich (Civil War Book Review )

About the Author
Mark E. Neely, Jr., is McCabe-Greer Professor of the History of the Civil War Era, Pennsylvania State University, and the author of a number of books, including his Pulitzer prize-winning The Fate of Liberty: Abraham Lincoln and Civil Liberties.

Customer Reviews

A Revisionist Civil War History
In his book "The Civil War and the Limits of Destruction" (2007) historian Mark Neely offers a challenging reassessment of the destructive, brutal character of the American Civil War. Neely is Professor of History at Penn State University. He has written widely on the Civil War and on Lincoln. In considering differing views of the Civil War, Neely appropriately reminds his readers near the conlusion of his book that "[w]e should remain open to alternative viewpoints and not be committed to a single narrative." (p. 203)

Neely attempts to challenge a commonly-held view, among both scholars and laymen, that the Civil War at least in its late stages became an unusually brutal and destructive conflict -- the harbinger of "total" war as practiced in the 20th Century. He argues that, to the contrary, the Northern and Southern Armies fought in a limited fashion, without undue and unnecessary destruction of the property and lives of civilians and noncombatants. He denies that, in comparing the Civil War with other conflicts, it was particularly brutal or horrid. Neely attributes what he finds to be the relatively civilized conduct of the Civil War to racial perceptions. Soldiers of both North and South treated each other with more respect than was the case when the perceived enemy was of a different race, such as Indian or Mexican.

Neely develops his case in several different ways. First, he contrasts the Civil War with contemporary or earlier wars of the United States. Thus, Neely points out the many instances of brutal conduct by American volunteers against the enemy and against civilians in the Mexican-American War of the late 1840s, the conflict that proceeded the Civil War. During and shortly after the Civil War, the French overthrew the Mexican government and established an Emperor, Maximillian, in an attempt to reestablish a foothold in North America while the United States was otherwise occupied. Maximillian waged war against the Mexican populace with a brutality unmatched in the American conflict. Then again, during the course of the Civil War, the United States was engaged in fighting the Indian tribes on the plains. Neely documents the tactics of burning, destruction, and massacre of innocents that were practiced against the Indians but did not form the general practice of either side in the Civil War. Neely has done a service in reminding of his readers of these too-little known conflicts(the Mexican American War, Maximillian's "black decrees", and the Indian wars) in considering the Civil War, even if he does not convince the reader that the Civil War had a more benign character.

Neely also tries to make his case by examining various incidents in the Civil War itself. He spends a great deal of time discussing guerilla war in Missouri, concluding that participants in that troubled theater of the war distinguished between all-out guerilla warfare and war fought between the regulars of the two sides. He denies that the early guerilla fighting in Missouri proved a harbinger for the war as a whole. In a lengthy chapter, Neely discusses Sheridan's Shenendoah Valley campaign. He denies that this campaign evidenced "total" warfare designed to deprive civilians of subsistence resources. He makes the same points, more briefly, about Sherman's campaigns. Neely considers the brutal treatment of prisoners at places such as Andersonville and the Union's threats to retaliate for this treatment. He finds these threats were mostly empty and made largely for political reasons. The brutality of the war, argues Neely, never matched the thunderous pronouncements of the politicians.

In the final chapter of his book, Neely challenges the casualty figures generally accepted for the Civil War (620,000 dead) by arguing that these figures were inflated for political reasons, that they include the many more soldiers who died from disease rather than from combat, and that Southern fatalities should not be included, anymore that German or Japanese fatalities should be included in counting American deaths in WW II. This final section of the book is weak, both in its arguments and its conclusions.

There is something to be learned from this book. The chapters encouraging the reader to compare the Civil War experience with other contemporary wars are provocative and well-done. There is much to be said for challenging widely-held views and for reminding the reader of the changing character of historical interpretation. But Neely does not establish his broad position. As it progressed, the Civil War became an increasingly hard fought conflict directed at military personnel and at the enemy's capacity to sustain war and to maintain the will to continue the battle. At times, Neely himself seems to acknowledge the character of the conflict. He did not persuade me that it was otherwise.

This book will be of most interest to serious students of the Civil War who wish to broaden their perspective of the conflict and think about alternative interpretations.

Robin Friedman

Unconvincing revisionism
A thesis that Neely has explored in several of his books is repeated here: the Civil War really wasn't as vicious as the men who fought it and the civilians who suffered from it claimed. In his The Fate of Liberty: Abraham Lincoln and Civil Liberties (1992), for example, he argues that Lincoln's suspension of habeas corpus and arrest of disloyalists really wasn't all that bad. Subsequent books, such as The Last Best Hope of Earth: Abraham Lincoln and the Promise of America (1995) and Southern Rights: Political Prisoners and the Myth of Confederate Constitutionalism (1999) reiterate this curiously apologetic theme.

The Civil War and the Limits of Destruction continues the thesis by claiming that when it comes to partisan war in the western theatre, life in prisoner-of-war camps, scorched earth campaigns in the Shenandoah Valley, and so on, the brutality of the Civil War has been overrated by a war-shy, post-Vietnam generation. Neely claims that we read these events anachronistically, failing to recognize that the Civil War was much more restrained than wars before or since.

But there are two problems with all this. The first is that, in spite of the fact that it's revisionist history, Neely's book isn't terribly original revisionist history. Mark Grimsley said the same thing (and said it better, by the way) in his The Hard Hand of War back in 1995. Moreover, many of the particular analyses that comprise separate chapters in Neely's book are also unoriginal. The revisionist denial that Sheridan ravaged the Shenandoah Valley has already been made, for example, in Michael G. Mahon's The Shenandoah Valley (Mahon's book, by the way, is just as unconvincing as Neely's chapter).

The second problem is that Neely (and Grimsley, although to a lesser extent) overplays his hand. Of course the Civil War was less brutal than the Indian wars or Maximillian's war against Mexican republicans or early modern European chevauchees. But to say that the Civil War was less brutal than other wars doesn't at all mean that it wasn't brutal, and this is the implicit conclusion with which Neely leaves his readers. It's good, as Neely does, to point out that each generation needs to be aware of the interpretive lens through which it reads the Civil War. But Neely's revisionist reading of the war as a kinder and gentler phenomenon than it was is an unfortunate return to romanticization of a national trauma whose ill-effects are still felt. This reviewer, at least, is left wondering why revisionists such as Neely are compelled to downplay what those who actually lived through the Civil War never doubted for a moment. Is this a subtle glamorization of war?

I don't know. But I find older studies that the revisionists tend to pooh-pooh--for example, Gerald Linderman's Embattled Courage (1989)or Charles Royster's The Destructive War (1993)--much more thoughtful.