Steven Spielberg's Lincoln is set in one of the most interesting turning points in history. In this film based on a Lincoln biography, Spielberg captures the drama that takes place in Washington during
the turbulent period of the Civil War. The Yankees of the north pitted themselves
against the Southern Confederacy, as Lincoln presided over the bloody war that
will decide not just the fate of the African Americans, but of the Union itself. The
casting is perfect, the pace of the narrative keeps viewers engaged and the
dialogues leave you re-running lines in your mind over and over again.
The War is still raging on, Lincoln has just been re-elected to a second term as President and
is fighting get the Thirteenth Amendment
passed - the amendment to the American constitution that would abolish slavery
in all forms. The Conservative Republicans are in support of inviting the
peace-seeking delegation of Confederates to Washington to bring an end to the
war, while the Radicals would drop support if that were to pass. Meanwhile, the
only hope of garnering the required two-thirds majority for the Amendment in the
Congress lay in persuading "lame duck Democrats" (those who had lost
their seats in the elections) to switch support. The movie is about how Lincoln
sets his men the task of procuring twenty Democrat votes; the final leg of which task Lincoln takes on himself.
To some, he appeals to the heart, to some with the soundness of reason, to
others with his eloquence and still others, when all else was lost, with the
iron fist of one "clothed in immense power".
In that fateful
month of January (1865), the United States faces its true test of its professed
sense of equality and freedom, the ideals that the founding fathers of the
Union had given to the fledgling country less than a century earlier. And no
one is as conscious of the significance of this test, of the urgency to show to
the world the States would rise to the defence of their lofty founding ideals,
as Lincoln is.
It seems almost as
if Lincoln's struggle to get the Amendment passed was a lone one: even those on
his team seem to be fighting for other ends: the Secretary of War intent on
defeating the Confederate rebels; the Secretary of State keen to play to the gallery,
worried that Lincoln's stature would be reduced on failure to pass the
Amendment; the First Lady keen to end
the war that had already taken one of her sons, and fearful of losing another
who had just then enlisted; the Radical faction seeking to go all out for an
emancipation plan for the Blacks, unmindful of the fact that such a
revolutionary plan would frighten away
even the Conservative supporters. In this melee, when the trials of the war had
left the leaders disillusioned, all that seemed to matter was to seek to end
the war. Lincoln, on the other hand, was acutely aware that the original aim of
ending slavery would come to naught were the war to be ended before the passage
of the Amendment. In this, he was not being cruel; he was evidently carrying on
with a heavy heart. His horror of the
war is only too clear, but it was a cross he realized he had to bear, so that
the States could regain moral standing in the then-prevailing world, and for
ages to come. He saw, with a clarity that eludes all but those with keen
foresight, that the position of the States as the upholder of natural laws was
under threat by the scourge of slavery.
Spielberg has done a
class act of unveiling this drama, of multiple factions pushing multiple
agendas, even as Lincoln keeps his cards close to his chest, revealing only as
much as was necessary to nudge the game forward in the intended direction. Lincoln stands tall in this motley cast of characters, firstly
because he is a man ahead of his times. His support for abolition arises from a
startlingly fierce drive to establish justice and freedom. He was a man with a
powerful vision, who was able to see beyond the narrow lens of his
contemporaries, beyond the parochial nature of prevailing customs, and tap into
the heart of humanity and reason. He
fashions even a dry mathematical axiom from a millennia-old geometry book (that
things that are equal to the same thing must be equal to each another) into a
passionate argument for equality of all mankind. What truly sets him apart, is
that his passion is not the blind,
destructive passion of obsession: his passion is tempered by steady wisdom, a
sense of balance, and a consciousness of the nature of his antagonists and the
means to win them over.
One of the finest
moments in the movie (and there are many of them) is one where the radical
Republican Stevens accuses Lincoln of not abiding by his 'inner compass'. To
which, Lincoln succinctly brings to the fore the difference between marching
due north as shown by the compass and superimposing one's knowledge of the lay
of the land with the direction shown by the compass.
Many may find fault
with Lincoln's approach as one where ends justify the means. Even his wife said
of him, "no one knows the art of treading
treacherous paths better than you do," encouraging him to personally take on the
task of garnering support votes for the Amendment. His delaying tactics in
keeping the peace-seeking Confederates away from Washington till the Amendment
had been passed, his denial of the existence of a negotiated peace plan to his
Secretary of State and his skill in managing the many factions in his party,
all belong in the world of political
intrigues, I concede. His Democratic opponents even went so far as to accuse
him of being a dictator, a tyrant who wanted only to enforce his will. To all
these detractors, I would say only this: The ability of a man whose vision
transcends his own times is limited only by his dexterity in steering the
actors of his times. Lincoln could, and did. All that matters is that his goal
was the greater good for his country, the world and of the people in the times
to come. He belonged not just to his time, but as was aptly said in the penultimate scene , "he now
belongs to the ages".
