From last century's 'The Birth of a Nation' to this century's

In the vast landscape of human history, the stories we tell shape the world we live in, for narrative is a powerful force that molds our understanding of truth and identity. The great Ta-Nehisi Coates, in his reflection, delivers a profound judgment on the role that Hollywood has played in obscuring the truth of the American Civil War and, by extension, the very origins of modern America. He states: "From last century's 'The Birth of a Nation' to this century's 'Gods and Generals,' Hollywood has likely done more than any other American institution to obstruct a truthful apprehension of the Civil War and, thus, modern America's very origins." These words pierce through the veil of the idealized history that has been spun by those in power, exposing how cinema—an art meant to enlighten—has been used as a tool to obscure, distort, and manipulate the realities of one of America’s most defining moments.

The Birth of a Nation, a film released in 1915, stands as the beginning of this long tradition of cinematic distortion. D.W. Griffith's film, heralded as a technical marvel in its time, was also a powerful piece of propaganda. It glorified the rise of the Ku Klux Klan and portrayed African Americans—most notably those depicted by white actors in blackface—as dangerous and inferior. It sought to cement the white supremacist narrative that the Civil War was a struggle between noble, virtuous men fighting to preserve their way of life against an overwhelming and, in their minds, unnatural force. This narrative sought to redefine the defeat of the Confederacy not as a victory for justice but as a tragic loss for a glorious past. The realities of slavery, brutality, and the struggle for freedom were erased, replaced with a distorted fairy tale of white Southern victimhood and heroism.

Similarly, Gods and Generals (2003), another Hollywood spectacle, paints a romanticized picture of the Civil War, focusing on the valor and noble struggle of the Confederacy. Through the lens of General Robert E. Lee and the revered Southern generals, the film presents a highly selective view of the war—one that elevates the Confederacy's cause and distorts its true purpose: the preservation of slavery. It glorifies the tragedy of the South, casting its soldiers as honorable, while sidelining the reality of the war’s true cause and its most grievous sin: the enslavement of millions of Black people. Just as Griffith's film reframed the horrors of the Civil War, Gods and Generals does the same, creating a narrative where the moral clarity of the Union’s fight against slavery is muddled by the elevation of lost cause myths.

This distortion of history is not an isolated incident. From the ancient Greeks to the modern Romans, the stories a society chooses to tell about its past reflect the values and beliefs that guide its future. In ancient Rome, the stories of victory—whether in war or in politics—were often shaped to serve the needs of the emperor or ruling elite. The Roman historian Livy wrote of the great exploits of Roman heroes, but his stories often left out the inconvenient truths of the empire’s cruelty and exploitation. The Greek city-states too crafted narratives of democracy and freedom while glossing over the treatment of slaves and the subjugation of their neighbors. Just as these ancient stories served to justify the power of the elite, so too does modern cinema rewrite the history of the Civil War, portraying it as a tragic conflict between two equally noble sides, rather than a battle that was, at its core, about freedom for the enslaved.

The power of narrative lies not only in what is told, but in what is left unsaid. When Hollywood chooses to focus on romanticized versions of the Civil War, it distracts us from the more difficult truths that we, as a society, must reckon with. Slavery, the terror it inflicted, and the injustice it perpetuated are relegated to the background, making it harder for us to fully appreciate the profound impact this institution had on shaping the nation. The heroic stories of the Union soldiers, who fought for freedom, the abolitionists, who risked their lives to bring about change, and the enslaved people, who endured unimaginable suffering, are overshadowed by the glorification of the Confederate cause and the perpetuation of myths. As Ta-Nehisi Coates rightly points out, this obstruction of truth limits our ability to understand our true origins—the ideals of equality and freedom that were promised, but never fully realized, for all people.

We must ask ourselves, in the face of this distortion, what lessons can we take away? First, we must recognize that the truth of history is often buried beneath layers of mythology and selective memory. If we are to truly understand the origins of modern America, we must look beyond the narratives presented to us in films, books, and public discourse. We must dig deep into the realities of the Civil War—the struggle for freedom, the destruction of an institution built on human misery, and the subsequent challenges that arose in the fight for equality. To do this, we must be willing to confront the uncomfortable truths that are often erased or distorted in favor of more palatable versions of the past.

Coates's statement calls upon us to engage in the difficult but necessary work of unearthing these truths, challenging the narratives that have been carefully constructed to protect certain myths, and ensuring that the real stories of freedom, sacrifice, and oppression are remembered. As we pass this wisdom onto future generations, let us teach them not just the stories of heroic battles, but also the stories of suffering and redemption, of victory for some and defeat for many. By doing so, we honor those who lived through these times and lay the foundation for a society that can fully understand and learn from its past, shaping a future rooted in truth, justice, and equality.