In his article “Why They Raped, Pillaged, and Plundered,” Tom DiLorenzo reviews the evidence of war crimes in “General William Tecumseh Sherman’s famous ‘march to the sea’ at the end of the War to Prevent Southern Independence,” observing that: “The Lincoln cult – especially its hyper-warmongering neocon branch – has been holding conferences, celebrations, and commemorations [of the march to the sea] while continuing to rewrite history to suit its statist biases.” The dominant historical narratives admire Sherman’s “total war” policies as a corollary of their admiration for Lincoln’s war. Sherman’s war crimes are well-documented, and the aim of this article is not to revisit the evidence of his war crimes but to examine some of the justifications that are often advanced to exonerate Sherman.
The fact that burning civilian towns and homes is a war crime is well understood, and should be obvious to anyone familiar with what Walter Brian Cisco calls the “code of civilized warfare.” In his book, War Crimes Against Southern Civilians, Cisco explains:
Through the centuries, by common consent within what used to be called Christendom, there arose a code of civilized warfare. Though other issues are covered by that term, and despite lapses, it came to be understood that war would be confined to combatants… breaking the code on one side encourages violations by the other, multiplying hatred and bitterness that can only increase the likelihood and intensity of future wars.
Cisco reports that despite this “code of civilized warfare,” some principles of which had been enshrined in the Lieber Code, Sherman insisted that it was necessary to treat civilians in the South as combatants. Cisco explains:
Yet warring against noncombatants came to be the stated policy and deliberate practice of the United States in its subjugation of the Confederacy. Shelling and burning of cities, systematic destruction of entire districts, mass arrests, forced expulsions, wholesale plundering of personal property, even murder all became routine… Abraham Lincoln, the commander in chief with a reputation as micromanager, well knew what was going on and approved.
The Lincoln cult, far from regretting the horrors of that war, continues to view the burning of the South as worthy of celebration. The triumphalist view of Lincoln’s war is reflected in an opinion piece published in the New York Times in 2015, which argued that Sherman’s war crimes were intended “to widen the burden and pain of the war beyond just rebel soldiers to include the civilian supporters of the Confederacy, especially the common folk who filled the ranks of the rebel armies.”
That is depicted as a necessary price to pay to meet Lincoln’s goal of saving the Union: “the March to the Sea reveals the moral ambiguity of war and the extent to which Americans are willing to go when our national existence is at stake.” Sherman himself is exonerated: “the burning of the South Carolina capital was in reality a result of confusion, misjudgment and simple bad luck. It was, in sum, an accident of war.” This moral ambiguity presumes that the morality of war varies according to which side one supports—a blatantly vacuous morality.
Some triumphalists rationalize their celebration of Sherman’s crimes by arguing that war crimes are in some sense “worth it” to bring war to a swift conclusion. David Gordon traces the roots of the view that brutality helps to end war, a view held by people who believe a “humane” war would only drag on needlessly:
As I have already mentioned, the antiwar movement of that time wanted to end war, not make it more humane, and indeed Tolstoy was sometimes tempted to go further. In War and Peace, Prince Andrei suggests that soldiers in battle should act as ruthlessly as possible, for example killing enemy prisoners out of hand. Increasing the horror of war might make it more likely that people would end it. By no means was this view confined to fictional characters; Tolstoy himself was of this opinion, though he later withdrew it, and the great Prussian military theorist Carl von Clausewitz spoke in similar terms. Moyn lists a number of examples, but one should be added as well: General William Sherman, who justified his tactics of wanton destruction with this same argument.
The argument that Sherman’s atrocities were necessary to end the war is also associated with the perception that if a war is just, and is fought for a “righteous cause,” or what is sometimes described as “the right side of history,” it follows that any atrocities committed to advance that cause are also just. Such theories appeal to those who believe the end always justifies the means. That is a convenient ruse deployed in the service of brutal regimes, but in any case, it must also be asked: what “righteous cause” was Sherman engaged in? As DiLorenzo observes, “The reason Lincoln gave for launching a military invasion of the South was to save the Union.” Saving the Union cannot be a righteous cause for wars of aggression. Wars of aggression are always wrong, as a just war is one fought in defense. As for apologists who argue that Sherman should not be blamed for the devastation caused to civilians by his own troops, because he did not specifically order them to pillage, rape, and murder, that too must be rejected. If this argument were accepted, there would be little way of ever holding army officers morally responsible for the outrages committed by their men.
Another version of the “end justifies the means” argument focuses on the abolition of slavery, arguing that the end of slavery is sufficient justification for not being too concerned about the war. This argument ignores the repeated insistence of both Lincoln and Sherman that they were not fighting for abolition of slavery. Both men were perfectly happy for slavery to continue, and only wanted to prevent secession of the Confederate States. Sherman’s views on the inferiority of black people were so well-known that no one could be under the illusion that he was fighting to promote black welfare. According to the New Georgia Encyclopedia:
During the Atlanta campaign of May-September 1864, General Sherman opposed Black enlistment with word and deed. An avowed white supremacist and a reluctant liberator at best, Sherman made no effort to conceal his contempt for African Americans or to disguise the racist dogma behind his opposition to Black soldiers. Such phrases as “niggers and vagabonds,” “niggers and bought recruits,” and “niggers and the refuse of the South” filled his personal letters. Anxious to employ Black workers as laborers, Sherman was determined that the forces under his command would remain exclusively white. On June 3, 1864, he issued Special Field Order No. 16 forbidding recruiting officers to enlist Black soldiers who were employed by the army in any capacity.
Some people argue that even though Sherman repeatedly defended slavery, we should treat that as irrelevant because all that matters is that slavery was, in fact, abolished. So what if Sherman was a “reluctant liberator at best”? Suffice it that liberation followed. They would argue that abolition by itself constitutes an ex post “righteous cause” for the war that can also be attributed to Lincoln and Sherman even though they did not endorse it—they see this as a welcome, albeit unintended, consequence of the war. This argument assumes that slavery would never have ended had the war not happened—an argument that is purely speculative, and makes no attempt to link the war causally to the ending of slavery. For example, it does not explain why other countries in the West were able to end slavery without waging deadly wars.
A final illustration of the abject moral failure of Sherman’s defenders comes from those who now simply ignore the entire war, treating Sherman’s crimes as inconsequential. The New York Times 1619 project, which aims to “reframe American history” as one shaped by slavery, pays scant attention to the reasons for the war or its conduct. Lincoln and Sherman play only a minor role as “white allies” in this version of revisionist history, which asserts that slaves emancipated themselves. Union soldiers are seen as allies of slaves, while Confederate soldiers are cast as enemies of slaves. In this cartoonish view of history, the process of reframing history “requires us to place the consequences of slavery and the contributions of black Americans at the very center of the story.”
Accordingly, it is the activities of black Americans—rather than the Radical Republicans, Lincoln, or Sherman—that are presented as central to the emancipation story. The war is reframed as having been fought by hundreds of thousands of slaves freed from the rebel states by Lincoln’s Emancipation Declaration, who joined the Union army and fought to liberate their brethren still held captive. The justification given for this fictitious framing is that “by acknowledging this shameful history [of slavery], by trying hard to understand its powerful influence on the present, perhaps we can prepare ourselves for a more just future.” But no “just future” can be founded on fairy tales. A just future can only be built on the truth. As David Gordon puts it, “The 1619 Project wants to replace what actually happened with an ideological myth.”
