How Gettysburg Emerged as a Sanctuary for Conservatives Amidst Turmoil During the Trump Era
A simulated battlefield may be the key to addressing America's political divides.
TroibNews 
The sun blazes down on the 161st annual reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg, where temperatures exceed 90 degrees even before 10 a.m. Cannons fire in the distance. The scene outside the mock battlefield, miles away from the actual historic site, features reenactors waving Confederate flags alongside tourists in MAGA caps, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of January 6th — both tense and volatile. However, up close, the participants interact warmly, whether aligned with the North or the South, exchanging friendly greetings.
These pretend soldiers endure the oppressive heat while donning itchy wool uniforms, as soldiers did during the original battle in July 1863, when one soldier described seeing "hundreds of men gasping for breath, and lolling out their tongues like madmen." He noted, “flesh and blood cannot sustain such heat and fatigue as we have undergone this day.”
Having attended the Gettysburg reenactment as a tourist in 2016 with my then 10-year-old son Ben, who tried his hand at musket training, I'm now eager to delve into a deeper understanding of the event. The current sociopolitical landscape in America is fraught with a decade-long standoff over issues that seem immovable and have roots extending back to Donald Trump’s initial campaign, intensifying with his recent political endeavors. This modern conflict simmers both online and in person, manifested in charged social interactions from baby showers to street confrontations, with no sign of de-escalation or retreat.
Now, like many, I often avoid potential political conflicts, steering clear of acquaintances eager to debate climate change, immigration, or vaccine mandates. Or perhaps it’s me who stirs the pot; either way, I'm aiming to keep my own contentious tendencies at bay.
Contrastingly, those gathered here at Gettysburg lean into conflict. They're drawn to it so forcefully that they don their uniforms yearly and come to reenact not just a battle, but the trauma of a war that shaped the nation. The concept of re-experiencing trauma to gain mastery over it — known as repetition compulsion — continues to captivate me.
I ask several men at a booth for The Sons of Confederate Veterans what propels them to reenact this battle. The response is mild and cautious, as most refuse to share their names, with only one, Bill, speaking up: “The best answer I can give you is that it’s not that we're celebrating wins or losses. We’re celebrating our family heritage. This is what our ancestors did.”
Curious about the persisting impact of the Civil War, I inquire if Americans are still engaged in this conflict. The consensus seems to be that, while in this space they are united, outside of it, particularly online, feelings about the Confederacy tell a different story. One reenactor remarks, “When I post on Facebook about my Confederate ancestor, I get flak from friends,” adding that he has been called a traitor because of his lineage.
He explains that this reenactment site offers a shielded environment where attendees are spared from disparaging commentary about their ancestors or political beliefs. While most I talk to indicate their support for Trump, current events seem to hold little interest for them.
Instead of political debates, they share personal rifts and disagreements occurring within their families and social circles. Tensions are portrayed not through simple grievances but through deeply rooted ideological divides of red versus blue and good versus evil. This reenactment experience becomes a collective way for participants to work through these conflicts, often seen as a social gathering reminiscent of family therapy sessions, where issues are acted out through historical reenactment.
Here, despite the actors embodying combatants of a tragic past, there is a sense of reconciliation. “Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection,” Abraham Lincoln stated in his inaugural address, and this idea underscores the gathering. As reenactors engage in staged conflict, they come together afterward to share meals, momentarily escaping the irreparability of contemporary divisions.
I meet Paul and Tawnya Wells, who epitomize this divide in modern politics. Dressed in Union attire, Paul supports Trump for his economic policies, while Tawnya expresses disdain for him, saying, “I'm making plans to move to a different country.” She gestures toward another woman in a hoop skirt, adding, “We’re for ‘anybody else 2024.’”
A Trump-supporting woman selling Confederate-themed treats expresses concern about political discord back home. She shares her heartbreak over a rift with her longtime friend, who has become “very liberal,” leading to a fallout that seems insurmountable.
Most individuals here are white, a demographic often seen as bearing the brunt of electoral and familial conflicts, reminiscent of the Civil War's impact on family dynamics. This intertwining of personal and political strife echoes past and present issues of identity and division, much like those seen among participants during the January 6th events, where personal ties disrupted lives.
Many reenactors deeply reflect on the family dichotomies that played a key role in the Civil War, recalling tales of brothers who fought on opposing sides, such as the Walkers and Crittendens. Even Mary Todd Lincoln had sisters who supported the Confederacy.
The underlying fears of exacerbating divisions are met with attempts to downplay distinctions. Gregory Bateson's concept of “schismogenesis” illustrates how groups with shared interests can fracture along subtle lines, magnifying their differences. The Civil War exemplified this dynamic, and it continues to resonate today.
Instances of schismogenesis manifest in contemporary settings, as seen in displays of ideology through symbols like lawn signs. As the fight for identity and belonging plays out in modern America, the reenactors navigate their own alignments while pondering the complexities of familial ties in their shared history.
Lincoln recognized the unique peril of such divisions, noting that the “irritating” presence of outsiders could escalate tensions. As I observe the layers of symbolism and charged expressions at the reenactment, it’s clear that the atmosphere offers a chance for unity, however fleeting.
Despite the show of rivalry between reenactors in uniform, some advocate for collaboration. “Everybody works together,” one unnamed reenactor insists, while another remarks on the camaraderie that can emerge: “A lot of reenactors have both uniforms. They say, ‘Hey, we need some guys to go to the other camp.’” The existence of “Sons of Both” acknowledges the complexities of ancestry, with participants honoring both Union and Confederate lineage.
With each reenactment, the conversation ranges from lighthearted banter about uniforms to a more profound contemplation of loss and legacy. When I query why Confederate reenactors return each year to reenact their "loss," Bill assures me there is no room for denial regarding history. Some local events even allow both sides a chance at victory: “‘You win today, we win tomorrow.’”
Through conversations and connections, there emerges an opportunity for understanding and empathy as reenactors reflect on the sacrifices made to bridge divides. As cannons reverberate in the air, the reenactors engage in playful reenactments, framing these historical events not just as trauma but also as an avenue for potential healing.
Yet, as the reenactors gather, a yearning for a modern-day Lincoln looms large. The hope remains that someone with the ability to unify could emerge and restore the “bonds of affection” Lincoln spoke of.
Matthew Dellinger, of the 14th Brooklyn Living History Association, observes the potential for reconciliation born from these reenactments. Reflecting on the 50th anniversary of the battle in 1913, he shares the lasting image of soldiers shaking hands across historical divides, suggesting that today could also hold opportunities for connection, even amidst current turmoil.
Although our contemporary divisions seem insurmountable, the underlying desire for unity persists among the reenactors. Conversations among participants echo a longing for connection even as they relive a traumatic past, embodying the hope that understanding can prevail over conflict.As the festivities unfold at the reenactment, participants engage in discussions that highlight their desire to connect despite their differences. Conversations meander from historical anecdotes to modern-day reflections on family and social discord, revealing an inherent longing for reconciliation that resonates with many Americans today.
The reenactors aren't merely reliving history; they're navigating the complexities of their identities and familial ties in a world that increasingly feels polarized. Dellinger’s observations about the shared experiences within these reenactments illuminate how participants often reflect on both their ancestors and their present lives. For them, the experience serves as a conduit for understanding the historical roots of contemporary conflicts.
This sentiment echoes in the words of reenactors who acknowledge the weight of their lineage while trying to contextualize it within modern dynamics. Some openly express pride in their heritage while wrestling with the implications of that heritage in today’s society. This duality is noteworthy; they're performing historical roles while simultaneously grappling with how those roles intersect with their personal beliefs.
Yet, as casual conversations dwindle into more serious discussions about political divides, the specter of modern-day polarization is ever-present. Reenactors share stories of friendships strained over differing political beliefs, expressing a sense of nostalgia not just for the past but for a simpler time when disagreements could be brushed aside at family gatherings. “You can’t have a conversation without somebody jumping in and making it political,” one man laments, highlighting how the discontent permeates everyday life.
As laughter and cannon fire blend harmoniously, the sense of community within this gathering is palpable. There’s an understanding that, despite differences—whether they manifest in politics, belief systems, or historical interpretations—there is a commonality that can be cherished. The reenactors, after all, not only share a passion for history but also a commitment to honoring their ancestors through these touchpoints.
Even the varied regalia on display—different uniforms, insignias, and paraphernalia—mirrors the broader tapestry of American identities. The symbols come with stories, gathered like threads that weave an intricate narrative of resilience, conflict, and, crucially, the desire for understanding. It becomes evident that for many participants, this annual reunion transcends the simple act of reenacting the Civil War; it is about reaffirming their connections in a time when such bonds seem fragile.
Captured within this dynamic is the realization that the reenactment serves as both a memorial and a celebration—a reminder of the sacrifices made and the lessons learned throughout history. As attendees share meals and reminisce about battles, the air is filled with a sense of shared responsibility to uphold the memories of the past. This shared experience, while deeply rooted in history, also offers glimpses of hope for future healing.
Yet, the complexities cannot be ignored. Conversations around race and heritage, particularly in a setting steeped in Civil War symbolism, elicit caution. The few Black reenactors present are often the focus of discussion, with others seeking to distance their activities from any associations with white nationalism. This tension underscores the precariousness of navigating historical narratives in a time of renewed vigilance about racial representation and inclusivity.
As the event comes to a close, the mood remains light and convivial, underscoring the power of shared experiences to bring people together despite their differences. One participant quips, “It’s strange, isn’t it? We can come together here, but have a whole world outside that keeps us apart.” His observation resonates, encapsulating the juxtaposition of unity in the face of overwhelming societal divisions.
Dellinger’s reflections on the significance of these reenactments, particularly in terms of the potential for collective healing, linger. The event isn't just about remembering battles; it's about forging connections that can transcend history, illuminating the pathways toward understanding and empathy. Within the laughter, the stories, and even the competitive spirit inherent in reenactments lies a crucial lesson about the possibilities for growth and healing amidst our societal schisms.
As visitors gradually disperse, returning to their respective lives, there remains a collective hope—an understanding that, much like the battle itself, the struggle for unity and peace is ongoing, woven into the very fabric of American life. In reenacting the past, these individuals are not just looking back; they are also reaching out, aspiring to write a new chapter that honors their history while forging connections that can withstand the tests of time and tribulation. The battle may have been fought in the 1860s, but the quest for reconciliation continues into the present, leaving participants and observers alike to ponder the enduring implications of their histories and their shared future.
Lucas Dupont for TROIB News
These pretend soldiers endure the oppressive heat while donning itchy wool uniforms, as soldiers did during the original battle in July 1863, when one soldier described seeing "hundreds of men gasping for breath, and lolling out their tongues like madmen." He noted, “flesh and blood cannot sustain such heat and fatigue as we have undergone this day.”
Having attended the Gettysburg reenactment as a tourist in 2016 with my then 10-year-old son Ben, who tried his hand at musket training, I'm now eager to delve into a deeper understanding of the event. The current sociopolitical landscape in America is fraught with a decade-long standoff over issues that seem immovable and have roots extending back to Donald Trump’s initial campaign, intensifying with his recent political endeavors. This modern conflict simmers both online and in person, manifested in charged social interactions from baby showers to street confrontations, with no sign of de-escalation or retreat.
Now, like many, I often avoid potential political conflicts, steering clear of acquaintances eager to debate climate change, immigration, or vaccine mandates. Or perhaps it’s me who stirs the pot; either way, I'm aiming to keep my own contentious tendencies at bay.
Contrastingly, those gathered here at Gettysburg lean into conflict. They're drawn to it so forcefully that they don their uniforms yearly and come to reenact not just a battle, but the trauma of a war that shaped the nation. The concept of re-experiencing trauma to gain mastery over it — known as repetition compulsion — continues to captivate me.
I ask several men at a booth for The Sons of Confederate Veterans what propels them to reenact this battle. The response is mild and cautious, as most refuse to share their names, with only one, Bill, speaking up: “The best answer I can give you is that it’s not that we're celebrating wins or losses. We’re celebrating our family heritage. This is what our ancestors did.”
Curious about the persisting impact of the Civil War, I inquire if Americans are still engaged in this conflict. The consensus seems to be that, while in this space they are united, outside of it, particularly online, feelings about the Confederacy tell a different story. One reenactor remarks, “When I post on Facebook about my Confederate ancestor, I get flak from friends,” adding that he has been called a traitor because of his lineage.
He explains that this reenactment site offers a shielded environment where attendees are spared from disparaging commentary about their ancestors or political beliefs. While most I talk to indicate their support for Trump, current events seem to hold little interest for them.
Instead of political debates, they share personal rifts and disagreements occurring within their families and social circles. Tensions are portrayed not through simple grievances but through deeply rooted ideological divides of red versus blue and good versus evil. This reenactment experience becomes a collective way for participants to work through these conflicts, often seen as a social gathering reminiscent of family therapy sessions, where issues are acted out through historical reenactment.
Here, despite the actors embodying combatants of a tragic past, there is a sense of reconciliation. “Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection,” Abraham Lincoln stated in his inaugural address, and this idea underscores the gathering. As reenactors engage in staged conflict, they come together afterward to share meals, momentarily escaping the irreparability of contemporary divisions.
I meet Paul and Tawnya Wells, who epitomize this divide in modern politics. Dressed in Union attire, Paul supports Trump for his economic policies, while Tawnya expresses disdain for him, saying, “I'm making plans to move to a different country.” She gestures toward another woman in a hoop skirt, adding, “We’re for ‘anybody else 2024.’”
A Trump-supporting woman selling Confederate-themed treats expresses concern about political discord back home. She shares her heartbreak over a rift with her longtime friend, who has become “very liberal,” leading to a fallout that seems insurmountable.
Most individuals here are white, a demographic often seen as bearing the brunt of electoral and familial conflicts, reminiscent of the Civil War's impact on family dynamics. This intertwining of personal and political strife echoes past and present issues of identity and division, much like those seen among participants during the January 6th events, where personal ties disrupted lives.
Many reenactors deeply reflect on the family dichotomies that played a key role in the Civil War, recalling tales of brothers who fought on opposing sides, such as the Walkers and Crittendens. Even Mary Todd Lincoln had sisters who supported the Confederacy.
The underlying fears of exacerbating divisions are met with attempts to downplay distinctions. Gregory Bateson's concept of “schismogenesis” illustrates how groups with shared interests can fracture along subtle lines, magnifying their differences. The Civil War exemplified this dynamic, and it continues to resonate today.
Instances of schismogenesis manifest in contemporary settings, as seen in displays of ideology through symbols like lawn signs. As the fight for identity and belonging plays out in modern America, the reenactors navigate their own alignments while pondering the complexities of familial ties in their shared history.
Lincoln recognized the unique peril of such divisions, noting that the “irritating” presence of outsiders could escalate tensions. As I observe the layers of symbolism and charged expressions at the reenactment, it’s clear that the atmosphere offers a chance for unity, however fleeting.
Despite the show of rivalry between reenactors in uniform, some advocate for collaboration. “Everybody works together,” one unnamed reenactor insists, while another remarks on the camaraderie that can emerge: “A lot of reenactors have both uniforms. They say, ‘Hey, we need some guys to go to the other camp.’” The existence of “Sons of Both” acknowledges the complexities of ancestry, with participants honoring both Union and Confederate lineage.
With each reenactment, the conversation ranges from lighthearted banter about uniforms to a more profound contemplation of loss and legacy. When I query why Confederate reenactors return each year to reenact their "loss," Bill assures me there is no room for denial regarding history. Some local events even allow both sides a chance at victory: “‘You win today, we win tomorrow.’”
Through conversations and connections, there emerges an opportunity for understanding and empathy as reenactors reflect on the sacrifices made to bridge divides. As cannons reverberate in the air, the reenactors engage in playful reenactments, framing these historical events not just as trauma but also as an avenue for potential healing.
Yet, as the reenactors gather, a yearning for a modern-day Lincoln looms large. The hope remains that someone with the ability to unify could emerge and restore the “bonds of affection” Lincoln spoke of.
Matthew Dellinger, of the 14th Brooklyn Living History Association, observes the potential for reconciliation born from these reenactments. Reflecting on the 50th anniversary of the battle in 1913, he shares the lasting image of soldiers shaking hands across historical divides, suggesting that today could also hold opportunities for connection, even amidst current turmoil.
Although our contemporary divisions seem insurmountable, the underlying desire for unity persists among the reenactors. Conversations among participants echo a longing for connection even as they relive a traumatic past, embodying the hope that understanding can prevail over conflict.As the festivities unfold at the reenactment, participants engage in discussions that highlight their desire to connect despite their differences. Conversations meander from historical anecdotes to modern-day reflections on family and social discord, revealing an inherent longing for reconciliation that resonates with many Americans today.
The reenactors aren't merely reliving history; they're navigating the complexities of their identities and familial ties in a world that increasingly feels polarized. Dellinger’s observations about the shared experiences within these reenactments illuminate how participants often reflect on both their ancestors and their present lives. For them, the experience serves as a conduit for understanding the historical roots of contemporary conflicts.
This sentiment echoes in the words of reenactors who acknowledge the weight of their lineage while trying to contextualize it within modern dynamics. Some openly express pride in their heritage while wrestling with the implications of that heritage in today’s society. This duality is noteworthy; they're performing historical roles while simultaneously grappling with how those roles intersect with their personal beliefs.
Yet, as casual conversations dwindle into more serious discussions about political divides, the specter of modern-day polarization is ever-present. Reenactors share stories of friendships strained over differing political beliefs, expressing a sense of nostalgia not just for the past but for a simpler time when disagreements could be brushed aside at family gatherings. “You can’t have a conversation without somebody jumping in and making it political,” one man laments, highlighting how the discontent permeates everyday life.
As laughter and cannon fire blend harmoniously, the sense of community within this gathering is palpable. There’s an understanding that, despite differences—whether they manifest in politics, belief systems, or historical interpretations—there is a commonality that can be cherished. The reenactors, after all, not only share a passion for history but also a commitment to honoring their ancestors through these touchpoints.
Even the varied regalia on display—different uniforms, insignias, and paraphernalia—mirrors the broader tapestry of American identities. The symbols come with stories, gathered like threads that weave an intricate narrative of resilience, conflict, and, crucially, the desire for understanding. It becomes evident that for many participants, this annual reunion transcends the simple act of reenacting the Civil War; it is about reaffirming their connections in a time when such bonds seem fragile.
Captured within this dynamic is the realization that the reenactment serves as both a memorial and a celebration—a reminder of the sacrifices made and the lessons learned throughout history. As attendees share meals and reminisce about battles, the air is filled with a sense of shared responsibility to uphold the memories of the past. This shared experience, while deeply rooted in history, also offers glimpses of hope for future healing.
Yet, the complexities cannot be ignored. Conversations around race and heritage, particularly in a setting steeped in Civil War symbolism, elicit caution. The few Black reenactors present are often the focus of discussion, with others seeking to distance their activities from any associations with white nationalism. This tension underscores the precariousness of navigating historical narratives in a time of renewed vigilance about racial representation and inclusivity.
As the event comes to a close, the mood remains light and convivial, underscoring the power of shared experiences to bring people together despite their differences. One participant quips, “It’s strange, isn’t it? We can come together here, but have a whole world outside that keeps us apart.” His observation resonates, encapsulating the juxtaposition of unity in the face of overwhelming societal divisions.
Dellinger’s reflections on the significance of these reenactments, particularly in terms of the potential for collective healing, linger. The event isn't just about remembering battles; it's about forging connections that can transcend history, illuminating the pathways toward understanding and empathy. Within the laughter, the stories, and even the competitive spirit inherent in reenactments lies a crucial lesson about the possibilities for growth and healing amidst our societal schisms.
As visitors gradually disperse, returning to their respective lives, there remains a collective hope—an understanding that, much like the battle itself, the struggle for unity and peace is ongoing, woven into the very fabric of American life. In reenacting the past, these individuals are not just looking back; they are also reaching out, aspiring to write a new chapter that honors their history while forging connections that can withstand the tests of time and tribulation. The battle may have been fought in the 1860s, but the quest for reconciliation continues into the present, leaving participants and observers alike to ponder the enduring implications of their histories and their shared future.
Lucas Dupont for TROIB News
