Heather Cox Richardson’s How the South Won the Civil War- How Liberalism Rewrites History to Save Itself
Introduction: Liberal Mythmaking in an Age of Crisis
Heather Cox Richardson’s How the South Won the Civil War (2020) isn’t traditional history but a political commentary disguised as history. Its aim isn’t to clarify the past but to defend the legitimacy of American liberalism during a crisis. The main idea—that the slaveholding South’s “ideology” spread westward and culminated in Donald Trump—serves as a moral story for a confused middle class, reassuring them that the Democratic Party still protects “democracy.”
Richardson’s narrative is a “concentrated expression of the political and historiographical dead end of American liberalism.”¹ This narrative depicts a world where ideas are detached from material realities, class conflict vanishes, and the Democratic Party takes centre stage in American history. However, this is not genuine history; it is a form of ideological self-comfort.
The Civil War as a Bourgeois Revolution
The American Civil War stands as the most significant revolutionary event in U.S. history. Contrary to liberal historiography’s portrayal as a moral struggle between “democracy” and “oligarchy” or a tragic clash of opposing American ideals, it was fundamentally a bourgeois revolution. This upheaval was fueled by the deep-seated contradiction between the South’s slave-based plantation economy and the North’s fast-growing industrial capitalism.
The abolition of slavery was essential to the full development of American capitalism. The Union’s victory dismantled the political influence of the enslaved person owning class, seized control of the plantation aristocracy, and freed four million enslaved individuals. This marked the Second American Revolution, finishing what the first had started: establishing a unified national market and removing pre-capitalist barriers to bourgeois progress. However, like all bourgeois revolutions, it contained inherent contradictions that the bourgeoisie itself could not resolve.
Reconstruction: The High Point of the Democratic Revolution
Reconstruction stood as the most radical democratic effort in American history. During a short-lived phase, Radical Republicans, freedmen, and impoverished Southern whites united to reshape the South around universal male suffrage, public education, civil rights, and the political advancement of formerly enslaved people.
This moment marked the peak of the Second American Revolution’s democratic potential. There was a brief window for a complete transformation of Southern society, including the redistribution of land and the establishment of a biracial democracy focused on labour interests. However, this opportunity was never realised, as the bourgeoisie backed away from the consequences of their own revolution.
The Bourgeoisie Feared the Working Class More Than the Planter Class
Once slavery was abolished and the national market secured, Northern capital no longer needed the freedmen as political allies. What it feared was the emergence of a politically conscious, unified working class—Black and white—whose demands would extend beyond democratic rights to social and economic equality.
The bourgeoisie recognised that the democratic mobilisation unleashed in the South could merge with the rising labour movement in the North. The Great Railroad Strike of 1877 confirmed these fears. Faced with the prospect of a broader class challenge, the bourgeoisie chose to abandon Reconstruction and reconcile with the Southern elite.
The Agrarian Question Was Never Resolved
Reconstruction failed to initiate the agrarian revolution that could have dismantled the economic dominance of former slaveholders. Without redistributing land, political rights remained fragile, leaving freedmen economically reliant on their former masters. This shortcoming was deliberate; the bourgeoisie could not endorse challenging property structures that sustained the reactionary class’s power.
The Democratic Revolution Threatened to Become a Social Revolution
Trotsky’s concept of permanent revolution explains why Reconstruction failed. The bourgeoisie initiates the democratic revolution but cannot finish it because doing so would endanger capitalist property by mobilising the masses. Only the working class has the capacity to complete the revolution. In the 1860s and 1870s, in America, the working class was not ready to take on this role due to a lack of organisation, political independence, and class awareness. Consequently, the revolution remained incomplete.
IV. The Counterrevolution of 1877 and the Consolidation of Jim Crow
The end of Reconstruction was not due to “Northern fatigue,” “racism,” or Southern ideology’s persistence. Instead, it was a counterrevolution led by the bourgeoisie to maintain capitalist dominance.
The Compromise of 1877, which ended federal military presence in the South, coincided with the violent suppression of the Great Railroad Strike. These events were interconnected, representing different aspects of the same class struggle. The bourgeoisie suppressed both the democratic hopes of freedmen and the rising militancy of industrial workers. Consequently, this led to the establishment of the Jim Crow system: Black voter disenfranchisement, the restoration of planter dominance, racial terror, and a strict racial caste hierarchy. This outcome was not a Southern “victory” but a betrayal of the democratic revolution by the Northern bourgeoisie.
The Legacy of the Second American Revolution
The abolition of slavery was irrevocable, but Reconstruction’s failure left the democratic revolution unfinished. Its repercussions influenced American society for over a century: the working class remained racially divided, the South turned into a centre of reactionary politics, and the ideal of multiracial democracy was postponed. Additionally, the capitalist state solidified racial hierarchy as a means of class dominance. The unresolved issues from Reconstruction resurfaced throughout American history—from the Populist movement to the CIO, the civil rights era, and ongoing challenges to American democracy.
The Book’s Foundational Falsehood: The South Did Not Win the Civil War
Richardson’s title serves as a provocation, yet it is historically inaccurate. The South did not achieve victory in the Civil War—neither militarily, politically, nor socially. The slave system was dismantled; the planter aristocracy was broken; and four million enslaved individuals were freed. As the document highlights, these represent “world-historic achievements of the Second American Revolution.”²
Richardson’s trick is to reinterpret “winning” as the subsequent betrayal of Reconstruction. However, this was not a victory for Confederate “ideology.” Instead, it was a shift in class alliances within the Northern bourgeoisie, which, after fulfilling its goals of unifying the nation and dismantling the slave power, chose to forsake the freedmen. It then reconciled with former enslavers to secure capitalist stability in the South.
This was not a triumph of ideas but a victory of property relations. The bourgeoisie pulled back from the revolutionary consequences of Radical Reconstruction because it endangered private property rights and empowered the rising labour movement.³Richardson’s ideological framing—“democracy vs oligarchy”—is a liberal mystification that dissolves the material foundations of the conflict into a moral drama.
Ideology Without Class: The Liberal Flight from Materialism
Richardson’s story centres on a long-standing conflict between “democracy” and “oligarchy,” but these terms are not purely historical categories; rather, they serve as moral labels. This framing obscures the reality that the Civil War was fundamentally a conflict between two economic systems: chattel slavery, based on plantation agriculture, and free labour, driven by industrial capitalism.
The critique rightly observes that Richardson “substitutes a clash of ideas for a struggle between classes.”⁴ This exemplifies contemporary liberal historiography, which struggles to recognise the importance of class without compromising its political core. By equating the planter class with the modern Republican right as manifestations of a single “ideology,” Richardson neglects the significant changes in American capitalism over the past 150 years. Her approach shifts from detailed analysis to a moral narrative.
The Erasure of the Working Class
Perhaps the most critical flaw in Richardson’s book is its almost complete neglect of the working class. The significant labour struggles of the late 19th century—the Great Railroad Strike of 1877, the Haymarket Riot, the Homestead Strike, and the Pullman Strike—are either overlooked or treated merely as background. Richardson suggests that ‘History is made by elites,’ with the working class only depicted as a passive object of elite kindness or manipulation. This isn’t an accidental omission but a reflection of a class stance: the petty-bourgeois liberal intelligentsia cannot see the working class as an independent historical actor. Its political viewpoint is confined to swinging between “good” and “bad” elites.
The New Deal, in Richardson’s account, becomes a triumph of enlightened leadership rather than a ruling‑class concession extracted under the pressure of mass strikes and the growing influence of socialist ideas.⁶ This is liberal mythology, not history.
The Democratic Party as the Hero of History
Richardson’s narrative clearly aims to reframe the Democratic Party as the enduring protector of democracy. Achieving this requires ignoring a substantial amount of history. Historically, the Democratic Party was associated with slavery, Jim Crow laws, internment of Japanese Americans, initiating the Cold War, and escalating the Vietnam War. Its so-called “progressive” reforms were actually concessions gained through mass activism, which were then reversed once the pressure diminished.⁷
Yet Richardson groups Lincoln, FDR, LBJ, and contemporary Democrats together as part of a single “democratic tradition.” This is more about political branding than analysis. As the critique points out, this framing “serves a clear political purpose: to channel opposition to Trump and the right into support for the Democratic Party.”⁸
Trump as Symptom, Not Confederate Resurrection
Richardson sees Trump as the reincarnation of the Confederate oligarchy, but this oversimplifies the American crisis. Trump isn’t a modern Jefferson Davis; he’s the result of decades of deindustrialisation, loss of stable jobs, working-class hardship, endless imperialist conflicts, and political disintegration. As noted, “Trump is not Jefferson Davis reborn. He is a product of decades of capitalist decay.”⁹ By personalising and moralising Trumpism, Richardson obscures the structural crisis of American capitalism and the bankruptcy of both major parties.
Conclusion: Liberalism’s Desperate Search for a Usable Past
How the South Won the Civil War is more of a political narrative than a serious historical work. It aims to reassure liberal readers that history supports their views, portrays the Democratic Party as the guardian of “democracy,” and considers Trumpism an anomaly rather than a sign of systemic failure. As the critique notes, the book’s popularity reflects the political deadlock of that social class, which desperately seeks a past that can justify remaining loyal to a party aligned with Wall Street and warfare.”¹⁰
Historical materialism points in the opposite direction: toward the necessity of the working class taking power in its own name.
Footnotes
- “The book’s thesis can be critically assessed… concentrated expression of the political and historiographical dead end of American liberalism.”
- “These were world‑historic achievements of the Second American Revolution.”
- “The failure of Reconstruction was the failure of the bourgeoisie to carry through the democratic revolution to its conclusion…”
- “Richardson’s framework… substitutes a clash of ideas for a struggle between classes.”
- “In Richardson’s narrative, history is made by elites.”
- “When the New Deal arrives, it is presented as a victory of enlightened leadership…”
- “Its ‘progressive’ reforms have always been concessions wrung from it by mass struggle from below…”
- “Richardson’s framing serves a clear political purpose: to channel opposition to Trump… into support for the Democratic Party.”
- “Trump is not Jefferson Davis reborn. He is a product of decades of capitalist decay.”
- “The book’s popularity… is a measure of the political impasse of that social layer…”
What Though the Field Be Lost: Christopher Kempf, the Civil War, and the Ideology of Ambivalence Introduction: Poetry at the End of the American Cycle
Christopher Kempf’s What Though the Field Be Lost appears at a moment of profound crisis in American society. Staggering levels of social inequality ravage the United States, a political system in advanced decay, and a ruling class increasingly reliant on authoritarian methods to maintain its dominance. Under such conditions, the Civil War — the “Second American Revolution” — inevitably returns as a point of reference. It is the last moment in US history when the contradictions of the social order were resolved through revolutionary means. Any serious artistic engagement with the present must therefore confront the legacy of that conflict not as a cultural inheritance but as a historical process driven by class forces.
Kempf’s collection highlights the ideological deadlock facing modern American intellectuals. It is driven by a sincere desire to explore the past and its ongoing impact today. The work dismisses the superficial confessional trends common in American poetry, focusing instead on history, landscape, and the enduring material traces of the Civil War within the American consciousness. However, it is ultimately limited by the ideological frameworks—such as race, region, identity, and the elevation of “ambivalence” as a moral and aesthetic ideal—that shape how the liberal-academic world interprets reality.
The poem explores key questions of American history, though it stops short of fully addressing them. Kempf perceives the Civil War as a revolutionary break and senses the lingering contradictions it left unresolved. He also intuitively understands that today’s American capitalism crisis stems from the same class conflicts that ignited in 1861. However, he struggles to realise these ideas fully, instead adopting a stance of cultivated uncertainty, as if the poet’s role is to observe contradictions rather than resolve or comprehend them.
This ambivalence is fundamentally a social issue rather than an artistic one. It illustrates the stance of a segment of petty-bourgeois intelligentsia that exists anxiously between the working class and the ruling class, feeling the mounting pressures beneath but lacking the political and theoretical tools to understand their true meaning. Kempf’s poetry reflects this tension clearly: it hints at the revolutionary aspects of American history but stays grounded in culturalist ideas that hide that history’s true significance.
In this framework, the Civil War is seen not as a revolutionary clash between conflicting social systems but as a symbolic space where issues of identity, memory, and national belonging are explored. The working class is depicted not as an active historical force but as a cultural symbol — sometimes sentimentalised, sometimes ridiculed, admired for its “decency” yet often viewed humorously, as if its presence were an anthropological oddity rather than the cornerstone of modern society.
Kempf’s approach has limitations that go beyond aesthetics; they are political. As the American ruling class currently uses reactionary tactics—such as censorship, rewriting history, and fuelling racial and gender divisions—the artist’s role is to clarify the historical forces, not to aestheticise ambiguity. The Civil War was fundamentally a class struggle over the future of a social order, not merely an issue of identity politics. To relate its revolutionary fervour to today, one must pinpoint modern parallels, such as widening inequality, labour exploitation, and the global capitalism crisis.
Kempf’s poetry, despite its intelligence and craftsmanship, ultimately doesn’t make this leap. It stays confined within the ideological limits of the present, unable to see the past as a guide for the future. Therefore, criticism’s role isn’t just to evaluate the poems but to situate them within the larger crisis of American intellectual life—one caused by the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia’s failure to break free from the ideological frameworks that benefit the ruling class.
The Civil War as Historical Problem — Class, Revolution, and the Limits of Cultural Memory
The American Civil War holds a distinctive place in global history. It was more than just a regional conflict or a tragic internal rupture; it represented a revolutionary clash between two incompatible social systems: the industrialising capitalist North and the slave-dependent, semi-feudal South. The abolition of slavery—considered the largest expropriation of private property in the Western Hemisphere before the Russian Revolution—was not merely a consequence of the war but its core historical significance. To truly understand the Civil War, one must recognise it as a class struggle fought across the continent, with its outcome shaping the future of American capitalism for over a century.
However, prevailing ideological perspectives in modern American culture make this understanding nearly inaccessible. The Civil War is often viewed primarily through the lens of identity: as a clash among racial groups, regional cultures, or conflicting national narratives. This shift towards culturalist interpretation is intentional, serving the interests of the ruling class. It aims to hide the revolutionary roots of American history and to prevent the working class from realising its own historical power.
Kempf’s poetry, despite its historical interest, remains confined within a specific ideological framework. His portrayal of the Civil War is filtered through the lens of modern liberal concepts such as race, region, memory, and the obsession with “national identity.” These ideas are not just inadequate; they distort the true history of the conflict by turning a revolutionary war into a symbolic stage for cultural expression, emphasising ambiguity over social analysis.
Kempf’s portrayal of Confederate memory reveals an aesthetic focus on the monument’s “splendour,” which is not merely a mistake but a natural outcome of viewing the Civil War as part of cultural heritage instead of a class struggle. When the war is seen as a conflict of identities, even reactionary ones gain a degree of legitimacy. Consequently, the Confederate cause is depicted as a tragic regional pride rather than a defence of human bondage. The monument is thus seen as an object of beauty rather than a symbol of violent reaction. A Marxist cannot adopt this perspective. The Civil War was a clash between social systems, not cultures. The Confederacy epitomised the most reactionary class in American history: a slaveholding oligarchy whose economic goals were opposed to modern societal progress. Approaching its symbols with ambivalence conceals the underlying class struggle and blurs the distinction between revolutionary change and reactionary forces.
Kempf’s poetry reveals a broader issue in how Americans perceive their history. The Civil War is fading from its specific origins and instead serves as a symbol of national trauma, division, and contemporary anxieties. This isn’t merely a misunderstanding; it is a political error. Detaching the Civil War from its class issues erases the working class’s revolutionary legacy. It conceals that America’s major advances—such as ending slavery, expanding democratic rights, and asserting federal authority—were achieved through mass struggles, not just cultural debates.
Kempf’s work engages with this process, even as it aims to resist it. His poems include historical fragments, archival remnants, and traces of the past. Yet these elements do not provide a clear, dialectical view of history shaped by class struggles. Instead, they remain in an aestheticised ambiguity, suggesting that the poet is cautious about making definitive claims about the material he references.
This passage explains the ideological role of “ambivalence” in modern American literature. It enables artists to acknowledge historical complexity without confronting its political consequences. Instead of interpreting contradictions, poets act as curators of them. Essentially, it represents a form of ideological stagnation—the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia’s failure to recognise the revolutionary significance of history when such awareness is critically needed.
The Civil War calls for clarity, requiring an understanding of history as a conflict among social forces rather than merely a collection of cultural identities. Kempf’s poetry, despite its intelligence and craftsmanship, ultimately falls short of this requirement. It mirrors the crisis of a social class that feels the looming Great Events but lacks the necessary theoretical and political tools to understand them fully.
The Ideology of Ambivalence — Petty-Bourgeois Paralysis in Contemporary American Poetry
In Christopher Kempf’s poetic universe, ambivalence functions as more than just a stylistic choice; it is the central ideological principle. It shapes the way history is perceived, informs the poet’s attitude toward the world, and offers a means of transforming urgent social issues into aesthetic concerns. To understand “What Though the Field Be Lost,” one must view ambivalence not merely as an artistic trait but as a mirror of a broader social problem: the stagnation of the contemporary American petty-bourgeois intellectual class amidst rising class conflicts.
Ambivalence as a Social Position, Not an Aesthetic Insight
Contemporary American poets, especially in academia, hold a conflicted social position. They encounter economic insecurity, become more proletarianised, and face pressures akin to those of the working class. Yet they remain ideologically connected to liberal institutions such as universities, foundations, and cultural organisations, which are strongly dedicated to maintaining the existing social order.
Ambivalence stems from this contradiction, illustrating a class segment that senses the system’s instability but cannot imagine an alternative. It embodies the worldview of a social layer that experiences the pressures of capitalism but lacks the political insight to oppose it. Here, ambivalence indicates ideological fatigue rather than sophistication.
Kempf’s poetry effectively depicts this condition. His poems contain numerous historical fragments, political echoes, and social snapshots. Yet, these components never fully coalesce into a coherent view of the world. Instead, they remain in a state of unresolved tension, suggesting the poet is cautious about drawing his insights to their logical end.
The Aestheticisation of Contradiction
Ambivalence allows the poet to treat contradiction as an aesthetic theme instead of a historical process. The Civil War is portrayed as a collage of conflicting narratives; the working class is represented through cultural symbols; and the current crisis is shown as a series of “echoes” or “parallels,” rather than as a reflection of deepening class conflicts.
This aestheticisation of conflict serves to disarm political engagement by transforming the poet’s role from a historian’s interpreter to a curator of fragments. It suggests complexity without the obligation to analyse, indicating a withdrawal from active comprehension of the world. The WSWS review rightly notes that Kempf’s poems “juxtapose” instead of explaining, “hint” instead of fully expressing, and “suggest” rather than present definitive conclusions. This is not about poor craftsmanship but about perspective. The poet’s ambivalence is not a quest for truth; it is a means to avoid the effort of discovering it.
The Working Class as Cultural Object
Kempf’s portrayal of the American working class exemplifies ambivalence. His mentions of hot dogs, AutoZone, homecoming queens, and small-town rituals do not show solidarity, but rather an outsider’s view. These references reflect a poet who watches the working class with affection and amusement, as if examining a cultural spectacle instead of engaging with a social group.
This perspective mirrors the wider liberal-academic view, which sees the working class not as active agents in history but as a cultural concept. Instead of being recognised as subjects shaping history, they are depicted as objects of representation. Their struggles, hopes, and contradictions are often aestheticised rather than genuinely comprehended.
Kempf’s ambivalence toward the working class reflects a class position rather than a personal trait. It represents a social stratum that is materially near the working class but ideologically disconnected from it. This group perceives the potential for working-class unity but struggles to see it as a feasible political reality.
Ambivalence as Ideological Containment
Ambivalence in contemporary American poetry serves a conservative role. It stops poets from making conclusions that could threaten the current social system. Instead, it turns political issues into artistic expressions. This way, poets can recognise social contradictions without the need to clarify or resolve them.
In this context, ambivalence benefits the ruling class by maintaining the intelligentsia’s ideological confusion, hindering their ability to develop a clear critique of capitalism. It also conceals the revolutionary legacy of the Civil War with layers of cultural complexity. Additionally, it obstructs the working class from seeing itself as part of history.
The Confederate Question — Aestheticising Reaction in an Age of Resurgent Authoritarianism
The most politically sensitive part of ‘What Though the Field Be Lost’ is Kempf’s handling of Confederate memory. This section highlights the ideological limits of his uncertain approach and clearly shows the gap between historical materialism and today’s liberal cultural perspectives. The Civil War is more than just another historical event; it is the pivotal moment in shaping the modern American state. Addressing its reactionary aspect — the slaveholders’ rebellion — with an aesthetic hesitation is not a neutral artistic decision. It represents a political statement, whether intentionally or not.
The Confederate Monument as an Aesthetic Object
Kempf’s mention of the “splendour” of a Confederate monument is more than a minor detail. It encapsulates the book’s overall ideological framework. The monument is presented not simply as an emblem of a reactionary social order but as an aesthetic reflection, a remnant of a tragic history whose significance is complex, layered, and open to various interpretations.
This is exactly the core issue. The Confederate cause was clear-cut. It was neither tragic nor merely a cultural expression of regional identity. Instead, it was the organised political and military defence of a slaveholding oligarchy whose economic interests were inherently opposed to modern societal progress. Approaching its symbols with ambiguity masks the class nature of the conflict and blurs the distinction between revolution and counter-revolution.
The beautification of reactionary ideas is always risky politically, especially now when authoritarianism is resurging worldwide. The ruling class, facing worsening social issues, often resorts to distorting history, restoring reactionary symbols, and promoting nationalist myths. In this environment, the poet’s role isn’t to make ambiguity look beautiful but to make the historical significance of the past clear.
The Liberal-Academic Reframing of the Civil War
Kempf’s approach to Confederate memory exemplifies a wider trend within the liberal academic sphere: the transformation of the Civil War from a conflict of revolutionary class struggle into a cultural narrative centred on identity, memory, and regional pride. This reframing serves a particular ideological purpose. It enables the ruling elite to diminish the revolutionary roots of the Civil War by separating it from its material, economic foundations. When the Civil War is viewed as a clash of identities, all identities — including reactionary ones — are given some degree of legitimacy.
The rebellion of slaveholders is seen as a “perspective,” a “narrative,” or a “memory.” Confederate monuments then become sites of cultural significance rather than symbols of a social order rooted in human slavery. This perspective is not about historical accuracy but about ideological control.
The Class Content of the Confederate Cause
From a Marxist viewpoint, the Confederacy was the most reactionary social class in U.S. history. The slaveholding elite aimed not to defend a “way of life” but to uphold a property system that forcibly repressed millions. Their defeat was a vital step in the development of modern American capitalism and the expansion of democratic rights. Romanticising Confederate symbols conceals the revolutionary importance of the Civil War, portraying reactionary elements as mere cultural symbols rather than organised resistance by a ruling class resisting progress.
Ambivalence as a Form of Historical Neutralisation
Kempf’s mixed feelings about Confederate memory are not a flaw but a core aspect of his approach. This ambivalence enables him to view reactionary symbols as aesthetic objects rather than as displays of class dominance. As a result, the Confederate monument becomes a space for reflection instead of a symbol of the violent social system it signifies.
This is not harmless. In a time when authoritarianism is resurging—reactionary forces openly use Confederate imagery, the ruling class revives symbols of past oppression, and historical falsehoods serve political control—the aesthetic presentation of reaction unintentionally aids in confusing the public’s understanding of ideology. The poet who treats the Confederate monument with ambivalence is not impartial; instead, he contributes to a larger cultural trend that normalises, sanitises, and erases the historical significance of reaction.
The Importance of Clear Historical Perspective
Understanding the Civil War requires focusing on its social forces rather than viewing it solely as a conflict of cultural identities. The Confederate cause was mainly reactionary, as shown by its symbols and monuments. Ignoring this viewpoint obscures the class dynamics involved and hinders the working class from truly grasping its history. Kempf’s poetry, while insightful and skillfully written, ultimately misses this point. It mirrors the ideological stalemate of a social class that predicts major events but fails to understand the underlying historical forces.
Kempf’s Interview — Latent Class Insight and the Limits of Liberal Consciousness
Kempf’s interview with the WSWS is the most insightful document on What Though the Field Be Lost, revealing the gap between the poet’s latent political awareness and the ideological limits that influence his artistic approach. In the interview, Kempf offers insights that nearly align with a Marxist critique of modern American society. However, these insights are largely missing from the poetry itself. Thus, the interview acts as a kind of critical commentary on the book — showcasing what the poet understands but avoids expressing. [1]
The Poet Speaks More Clearly Than the Poems
Kempf acknowledges the social themes in his work, highlighting realities his poems only hint at. He points out that graduate students, whom he describes as experiencing “precarious labour,” share similar class interests with “Trump voters” in the rural Midwest. This is a notable admission because it contradicts the widespread belief that these groups are culturally incompatible. Instead, it reveals that beneath political differences lies a shared material condition: exploitation by capital.
This point is fundamental and underpins any serious socialist analysis of modern America. However, in the poetry, this understanding is only implicit, expressed through contrasts and echoes instead of a clear perspective. The poems acknowledge the cultural divide but fail to reveal the underlying class unity. The interview shows that Kempf is aware of this unity—it just can’t see it as a political force.
The Poet’s Critique of Corporate Identity Politics
Kempf’s observation that “virtually every corporation has much to gain from promoting narrow, sectarian strife” stands out even more. This insight surpasses the rest of the book in political depth, framing identity politics not as an accidental cultural trend but as a deliberate instrument of class control — a way for the ruling class to divide the working class and hinder its awareness of shared interests.
This analysis is exactly what the WSWS presents, an insight that poetry, despite its intelligence, never fully captures. Kempf’s acknowledgement of the corporate roots of identity politics indicates he could offer a more radical critique than his poetry reveals. However, he remains bound by the liberal-academic environment, which emphasises identity as the main lens for social analysis. This creates a clear disconnect: the poet’s political insight surpasses the ideological boundaries of his artistic approach.
The Liberal Fetish of “Ambivalence” as a Barrier to Clarity
Kempf justifies his poetic ambivalence as an intentional artistic choice. He believes that poetry doesn’t instruct directly but instead uses juxtaposition to provoke thought about parallels, incongruities, or echoes across history. This perspective is common among contemporary American writers, reflecting a generation of poets who are wary of clarity, tend to steer clear of political commitments, and regard ambiguity as a sign of artistic refinement.
However, this defence fails on closer examination. Ambivalence is not a way to uncover truth; it serves to avoid it. It allows the poet to recognise social contradictions without analysing them, thereby turning political issues into aesthetic concerns. Essentially, it acts as a form of ideological containment— preventing the poet’s insights from becoming threatening.
Kempf’s interview shows he can be clear. He understands modern American class dynamics and the influence of corporations in fostering division. He also recognises the potential for unity among workers. However, his poetic style, rooted in liberal ambivalence, stops him from stating these insights plainly.
The Unspoken Tension: A Poet on the Threshold of Marxism
The interview reveals a tension permeating the entire project: Kempf is on the verge of adopting a Marxist perspective on American history, but is still unable to do so fully. He recognises the Civil War’s revolutionary significance and identifies class struggles in modern society. Although instinctively aware, he also recognises that identity-politics categories do not sufficiently explain the current crisis.
However, he stays confined to the ideological frameworks of the liberal-academic environment. He is unable to see the working class as an active force in history. He cannot envision the potential for revolutionary change. Additionally, he struggles to move beyond the aestheticisation of ambivalence.
The result is a poetry that is historically curious but politically paralysed — a poetry that gestures toward revolution but retreats into ambiguity.
The Task of Criticism
Marxist criticism aims to contextualise Kempf’s work within the broader crisis of American intellectual life rather than criticise him for failing to produce socialist poetry. His ambivalence is understood as a social issue, indicative of the paralysis of petty-bourgeois intelligentsia who sense major events approaching but lack the theoretical and political tools to understand them.
The interview points in a different direction—one based on class analysis, historical understanding, and recognition of the working class as the key force in modern society. However, this alternative approach is not yet reflected in his poetry.
The article discusses how Kempf struggles to link the Civil War’s legacy to today’s issues. The unresolved tension in “What Though the Field Be Lost” only becomes evident when connected to the current American capitalism crisis. For Kempf, the Civil War is not just history but a key perspective on America’s ongoing divisions. Yet pressing modern problems like the decline of democratic institutions, rising inequality, and the resurgence of authoritarianism demand a clearer historical understanding—something Kempf’s uncertain approach does not entirely provide.
The Civil War as a Mirror of the Present
The Civil War marked the final time in American history when revolutionary methods resolved the contradictions within the social order. It was a conflict centred not on cultural identity but on the future of the social system itself. The abolition of slavery was a crucial prerequisite for the rise of modern American capitalism. As Marx described, it was a “bourgeois revolution” led by the most progressive elements of the ruling class and backed by the widespread mobilisation of both the working class and the enslaved people.
Today, the United States faces a new yet equally significant crisis. The contradictions of capitalism—such as globalised production, financialisation, extreme inequality, and political decline—have escalated to the point where traditional governance structures can no longer contain them. In response, the ruling class employs authoritarian tactics, engages in historical distortion, and fosters racial and gender divisions. Meanwhile, the working class, though fragmented and confused, remains objectively the sole force capable of addressing the crisis.
At such a moment, the Civil War acts as a mirror, reflecting the revolutionary potential of the working class, emphasising the need to challenge reactionary forces, and showing that deep social conflicts cannot be resolved through cultural negotiation. Kempf perceives this clearly. His poems echo the past within the present, capturing the “presentness of the past” and the strange persistence of Civil War memory in modern American life. However, he cannot explicitly express this link, as doing so would mean abandoning the ideological frameworks of identity and ambivalence that underpin his work.
The Liberal-Academic Horizon as a Barrier to Historical Understanding. Kempf’s poetry is limited not by aesthetics but by ideology. He views the Civil War mainly through familiar liberal categories like race, region, identity, and memory. These are not impartial; they serve as ideological tools the ruling class uses to interpret social conflict in cultural terms, concealing its economic roots. To truly see the Civil War as a class struggle, one must recognise the class nature of the current crisis. This involves understanding that the working class, rather than cultural identity groups, is the key force today and abandoning the dominant ideological frameworks in academia in favour of a historical materialist approach.
Kempf is unable to make this leap because it would directly conflict with the institutions shaping his worldview. The liberal-academic environment treats identity as the primary analytical category and regards class as either secondary or suspect. It promotes ambivalence and mistrusts clarity, encouraging the aestheticisation of contradiction while discouraging political engagement. Kempf’s poetry embodies these restrictions: it is historically intriguing but politically reserved. It hints at class struggle but focuses on cultural aspects, sensing the Civil War’s revolutionary potential yet failing to express it.
The Revolutionary Legacy of the Civil War and the Fear of Its Implications
Viewing the Civil War as a revolutionary event means acknowledging the potential for revolution today. This hidden fear underscores Kempf’s analysis. The Civil War was not merely a tragic conflict of identities but a violent break that dismantled the old social order and established a new one. During this period, the working class and the oppressed significantly influenced the course of history.
Recognising this suggests that the current crisis might demand a significant rupture. It acknowledges that the contradictions within modern capitalism cannot be resolved through cultural debates or aesthetic indifference. Instead, it emphasises that the working class, rather than the liberal intelligentsia, drives historical change. Kempf’s poetry hints at this possibility but never fully confronts it. The Civil War is depicted as a haunting memory or a symbolic landscape — never as a framework for understanding today. While the poems sense the arrival of major events, they remain immobile in the presence of these events.
Conclusion — Toward a Marxist Aesthetics of the American Past
The contradictions at the heart of What Though the Field Be Lost are not merely the contradictions of a single poet. They are the contradictions of an entire social layer — the American petty-bourgeois intelligentsia — confronting a historical moment that exceeds its ideological capacities. Kempf’s work is therefore valuable not only for what it says, but for what it cannot say; not only for its insights, but for its silences; not only for its historical curiosity, but for the ideological limits that shape it.
Kempf’s collection title, taken from Milton — “What though the field be lost?” — reveals more than the poet might expect. The field is not truly lost. The revolutionary legacy of American history endures. The working class continues to be the key driver of historical change. The contradictions within modern capitalism highlight the need for revolutionary transformation.
What is required is clarity — the clarity that ambivalence cannot provide, the clarity that historical materialism demands, the clarity that the present crisis makes unavoidable.
Kempf’s poetry, for all its limitations, is a symptom of a society on the brink of transformation. It registers the tremors beneath the surface. It senses the approach of great events. It reveals, in its very hesitations, the ideological crisis of a social layer confronted with the return of history. The task now is to move beyond ambivalence — to grasp the field not as lost, but as the terrain upon which the future will be fought.
Notes
What Though the Field Be Lost: Poet Christopher Kempf’s historical view of contemporary America-Erik Schreiber-www.wsws.org/en/articles/2021/07/29/kemp-j29.html
[1] An interview with poet Christopher Kempf, author of What Though the Field Be Lost-www.wsws.org/en/articles/2021/08/18/kemp-a18.html
A Trumpet of Sedition 