The American Revolution wasn’t just a showdown between colonists and the British Crown. For the more than 80 distinct Native American nations living east of the Mississippi River, the conflict posed an existential threat — one that would reshape their world no matter who won. They faced an agonizing choice: stay neutral in what many viewed as a family dispute within the British Empire, or pick a side and hope that alliance might help preserve their lands and sovereignty.

Most tribes that chose a side supported the British, and their reasoning was sound. The Proclamation of 1763 had attempted to block colonial settlement west of the Appalachians, and Native leaders correctly recognized that an independent America, freed from British constraints, would accelerate land seizures at a terrifying pace. As Mohawk leader Joseph Brant warned in 1775, independence for the colonists would likely mean disaster for indigenous peoples across the continent. History would prove him right.

The Patriots’ Native Allies

Still, several tribes made the difficult calculation to support the Revolutionary cause. The most significant were the Oneida and Tuscarora nations of the Iroquois Confederacy, along with the Stockbridge-Mohican people of Massachusetts and New York. Smaller contingents from the Catawba, Delaware, Maliseet, Pequot, Narragansett, Niantics, and Montauks also fought alongside colonial forces.

The Stockbridge-Mohican had a relatively clear-cut situation: surrounded by colonial settlements in western Massachusetts, neutrality was essentially impossible. They had already developed cultural and trade ties with their English neighbors, and they bet that loyalty might protect their remaining land rights in the new nation. They were among the very first Native people to take up arms, with members serving as minutemen at Lexington and Concord in April 1775 and fighting at Bunker Hill that June.

The Oneida’s decision was more complex. Unlike tribes facing immediate frontier pressure, they had some geographic breathing room. Their choice reflected relationships built with colonial missionaries and traders, but also a calculated gamble: that an American victory might better respect their territorial claims than continued British rule. In 1776, Congress formally authorized General Washington to recruit Stockbridge Indians, and the Oneida soon became crucial assets — not just as fighters, but as scouts who knew the terrain intimately, and as diplomats attempting to keep other tribes neutral.

Combat Contributions

Native Americans who fought for the Patriots contributed far beyond their numbers. Historian Pekka Hämäläinen has argued that proportionally more Indians than New Englanders served in Patriot forces during the war. Their most consequential military moment came at the Battle of Oriskany on August 6, 1777 — one of the bloodiest engagements of the entire conflict.

At least 60 Oneida warriors fought alongside New York militia against a combined British, Loyalist, and Mohawk force. Warrior Han Yerry, his wife Tyonajanegen, and their son all distinguished themselves that day. According to contemporary accounts, Han Yerry killed nine enemy fighters before a bullet disabled his gun hand, forcing him to continue with his tomahawk; Tyonajanegen fought on horseback with pistols throughout the battle. The engagement fractured the Iroquois Confederacy permanently and helped prevent British forces from reinforcing General Burgoyne before the decisive American victory at Saratoga two months later.

Perhaps the Oneida’s most vital — and least celebrated — contribution came during the winter of 1777-78 at Valley Forge. When Washington’s army faced starvation, Oneida Chief Shenandoah dispatched warriors carrying several hundred bushels of white corn. An Oneida woman named Polly Cooper made the 200-mile journey from Fort Stanwix and stayed at Valley Forge, teaching the starving soldiers how to properly cook the corn so it was actually digestible. Washington personally met with Oneida leaders to express his gratitude, presenting each with a wampum belt. It was a quiet act of generosity that may have saved the Continental Army.

The Oneida continued fighting throughout the war — at the Battle of Barren Hill in May 1778, where scouts stayed behind to allow Lafayette’s troops to escape a British trap; at the Battle of Monmouth; and in numerous northern campaigns. Ten Oneida soldiers earned officers’ commissions in the Continental Army, one rising to lieutenant colonel. Some even served as spies, gathering intelligence deep in enemy territory at enormous personal risk.

The Bitter Aftermath

And then came the betrayal. The 1783 Treaty of Paris, which ended the war, contained no Native American representatives and made no provisions whatsoever for protecting indigenous lands or sovereignty. Britain simply handed over all territory east of the Mississippi to the new United States — without consulting a single Native nation — treating indigenous homelands as British property to dispose of at will.

Even the tribes that had fought for the American cause found that wartime promises evaporated in peacetime. The Oneida, whose contributions had been genuinely critical, faced immediate pressure to cede their territories. By 1788, New York State had leveraged the Oneida into surrendering approximately 5.5 million acres, leaving them with just 300,000. Between 1785 and 1846, New York forced the Oneida to sign 26 additional treaties, stripping away nearly everything that remained.

In 1794, Congress did formally acknowledge the service of the Oneida, Tuscarora, and Stockbridge with the Treaty of Canandaigua, providing $5,000, a new church, and some mills. But the treaty also required the tribes to relinquish all other claims for compensation — effectively closing the books on their wartime losses. Historians estimate the Oneida lost nearly a third of their population during and immediately after the war through combat casualties, displacement, and the destruction of their villages and food stores. The Stockbridge-Mohican, similarly dispossessed, largely migrated west to present-day Wisconsin by the early 19th century.

The Larger Picture

British-allied tribes fared no better. When Britain ceded its eastern territories, it abandoned all its Native allies without protection or compensation. Joseph Brant’s Mohawk lost nearly all their land, though the British eventually granted Brant’s followers about 810,000 hectares along the Grand River in present-day Ontario — land where the Six Nations Reserve still exists today.

The pattern was consistent across tribes, regardless of which side they chose: the Revolution was a catastrophe for virtually every Native American nation. Those who supported the Patriots made contributions that were real, substantial, and in some cases decisive. The Oneida at Oriskany, the Stockbridge minutemen at Lexington, Polly Cooper at Valley Forge — these weren’t footnotes. They were participants in the founding of a nation that would spend the next century systematically dispossessing them.

The Revolution shattered longstanding indigenous alliances, set precedents for how the new United States would treat Native peoples, and demonstrated that for Native Americans, the choice between British and American sides was ultimately a choice between two different roads to the same devastating destination: the loss of their lands, their sovereignty, and their way of life. It’s a chapter of the founding era that deserves far more attention than it typically gets.

Illustration generated by the author using ChatGPT.

Sources

Oneida Nation — Revolutionary War contributions: https://www.oneida-nsn.gov/our-ways/history/

Treaty of Canandaigua (1794): https://www.onondaganation.org/history/1794-treaty-of-canandaigua/

Stockbridge-Mohican history: https://www.mohican.com/history/

Battle of Oriskany: https://www.nps.gov/orpi/index.htm

Pekka Hämäläinen — Native American roles in the Revolution: https://www.hup.harvard.edu/books/9780674248717

Proclamation of 1763: https://www.britannica.com/event/Proclamation-of-1763

Treaty of Paris (1783) and Native lands: https://avalon.law.yale.edu/18th_century/paris.asp

Six Nations Reserve, Ontario: https://www.sixnations.ca/

Seeing Inside: A Guide to Modern Diagnostic Radiology

By John Turley

On March 16, 2026

In Medicine, Science

Not so long ago, if a doctor needed to know what was happening inside your body, the options were limited — a basic X-ray, an exploratory surgery, or educated guesswork. Today, a radiologist can map your brain’s blood vessels, detect a cancer smaller than a pea, or watch your heart metabolizing sugar in near real time — all without making a single incision.

The first medical X-ray appeared in 1895. For decades, imaging largely meant detecting fractures or large abnormalities. Today, radiology guides emergency care, cancer treatment, stroke therapy, cardiac management, and preventive medicine. Modern diagnostic imaging has transformed medicine in ways that would have seemed like science fiction to physicians just a few generations ago.

Modern imaging falls into three broad categories: structural imaging — what tissues look like, vascular imaging — how blood flows, and functional imaging — how cells behave metabolically. Here’s a plain-language guide to the big three: MRI/MRA, CT/CTA, and PET scans — what they are, how they work, and why they matter.

MRI and MRA: Magnets and Radio Waves

The MRI — magnetic resonance imaging — is one of the most versatile tools in modern medicine, and it works without a single ray of radiation. An MRI passes an electric current through coiled wires to create a temporary magnetic field in your body. A transmitter and receiver then send and receive radio waves, and a computer uses those signals to construct detailed digital images of whatever area is being scanned. Think of it as a very sophisticated tuning fork: it causes hydrogen atoms in your body’s water molecules to briefly align, then releases them — and the energy they emit on the way back creates the image. Because different tissues relax at different rates, MRI can distinguish gray matter from white matter in the brain, normal from inflamed or cancerous tissue, and ligament from muscle with impressive contrast.

The result is exceptional detail, especially for soft tissue. MRI scans take much clearer pictures of your brain, spinal cord, nerves, muscles, ligaments, and tendons than regular X-rays and CT scans. That’s why your orthopedic surgeon orders one when your knee goes sideways, and why neurologists reach for it when they suspect a stroke or multiple sclerosis.

MRA — magnetic resonance angiography — is MRI’s cousin, using the same magnetic technology but focused specifically on blood vessels. It lets physicians map arteries and veins in remarkable detail, identifying narrowing (stenosis), bulges (aneurysms), or blockages (occlusions) without the need for invasive catheterization. If your doctor suspects a blockage in the blood vessels feeding your brain or kidneys, an MRA can reveal it clearly. A contrast dye is sometimes injected to make vessels stand out even more sharply.

The main trade-offs with MRI are time and noise — scans generally take between 30 to 50 minutes, and the machine produces the kind of clanging racket that makes earplugs standard issue. People with certain metal implants or severe claustrophobia can’t always use it, which is where CT steps in.

CT and CTA: X-Rays, Upgraded

The CT scan — computed tomography — takes the familiar chest X-ray and turns it into something far more powerful. A CT scan takes multiple X-ray images from different angles rotating around the body, separates them by depth then processes them by computer to create cross-sectional views — essentially a detailed 3D picture rather than a flat 2D image. Think of slicing a loaf of bread: instead of seeing only the crust, you can examine every slice.

A CT shows more detail than a standard X-ray and is used to diagnose cancer, heart disease, injuries from trauma, and musculoskeletal disorders — it’s one of the most common imaging tests used today. Emergency departments rely on CT heavily because it’s fast, often completed in 10 to 15 minutes, and can quickly identify life-threatening conditions like internal bleeding or pulmonary embolism.

CTA — CT angiography — adds an injected contrast dye to the mix, allowing physicians to see blood vessels with high clarity. Contrasting agents help show various structures of the body more clearly, making CTA the go-to test for evaluating coronary arteries, aortic aneurysms, and vascular disease throughout the body. Unlike MRA, it’s faster and more widely available, though it does involve a dose of radiation — something physicians weigh carefully against the diagnostic benefit.

PET Scan: When Function Matters More Than Form

If MRI and CT show you the structure of the body, the PET scan — positron emission tomography — shows you what’s happening inside it. This is a fundamentally different question, and the technology reflects that.

A PET scan is used to see metabolism and chemical activity within your body. It can detect abnormal changes before structural changes occur — meaning it can detect cancer before a tumor is large enough to be seen on a CT or MRI. That’s a remarkable capability. The scan works by injecting a small amount of a radioactive tracer — most commonly a form of glucose — into your bloodstream. Diseased cells, particularly cancer cells, absorb more of the radiotracer than healthy ones do. Active cells consume glucose. Cancer cells, inflamed tissue, and active brain regions often use more glucose than surrounding tissue. These are called “hot spots,” and the PET scanner detects this radiation to produce images of affected tissue.

Beyond cancer, PET scans are invaluable in cardiology — showing whether heart muscle is still alive after a heart attack — and in neurology, helping diagnose Alzheimer’s disease, epilepsy, and brain tumors by revealing abnormal patterns of brain activity.

The trade-off is resolution. The image resolution of nuclear medicine images may not be as high as that of CT or MRI, which is why PET is rarely used alone today. Combined PET/CT scanners perform almost all PET scans today , marrying metabolic information with anatomical precision. Hybrid PET/MRI scanners are also emerging though not yet in widespread use. They are particularly valuable for soft-tissue cancers of the brain, liver, and pelvis.

How They Compare — and Why It Matters

The simplest way to think about these three technologies is this: CT shows shape and structure quickly, with emphasis on bone and dense tissue; MRI shows soft tissue in extraordinary detail without radiation; and PET shows function and cellular activity that neither of the others can see directly.

A patient with suspected cancer might undergo a CT scan to identify the location of a mass, followed by a PET to determine its metabolic activity, and then an MRI to map its relationship to critical soft tissues. Used together, these tools give physicians a picture of disease that is more complete than any single test could provide.

The value to modern medicine is difficult to overstate. These technologies allow doctors to diagnose conditions earlier, stage cancers more accurately, guide surgical planning, and monitor how well treatments are working — all without exploratory surgery. Survival rates for many cancers have improved substantially in part because imaging lets us find disease when it’s still manageable.

The era when medicine was largely guesswork about what lay beneath the skin is over. Today, radiologists are, in a very real sense, reading the body like an open book.

Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT.

Sources:

UNC Health Appalachian — MRI, CT, and PET Scan Comparison: https://www.unchealthappalachian.org/blog/2024/comparing-mri-ct-and-pet-scans-how-they-work-and-when-theyre-use/

WashU Mallinckrodt Institute of Radiology — Differences Between CT, MRI, and PET: https://www.mir.wustl.edu/do-you-know-the-differences-between-a-ct-mri-and-pet-scan/

Cleveland Clinic — PET Scan Overview: https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diagnostics/10123-pet-scan

RadiologyInfo.org — PET/CT: https://www.radiologyinfo.org/en/info/pet

Open MedScience — CT, MRI, and PET Differences: https://openmedscience.com/ct-mri-and-pet-scanners-unravelling-the-differences-in-modern-medical-imaging/

Healthline — MRI vs. PET Scan: https://www.healthline.com/health/mri-vs-pet-scan

Revere Health — MRI, CT, and PET Explained: https://reverehealth.com/live-better/mri-ct-pet/

The Marble Statue Problem: Why Half the Story Is No Story at All

By John Turley

On March 12, 2026

In Commentary, History, Politics

A Commentary on Selective American History

There is a version of American history that looks spectacular. Founding Fathers on horseback, industrialists building steel empires from nothing, pioneers pushing west into open lands. It is the kind of history that gets carved into marble, hoisted onto pedestals, and taught as national mythology. Clean. Inspiring. Incomplete. And right now, there is a visible push by some politicians, curriculum reformers, and commentators to make that marble-statue version the only version — to scrub away what one American Historical Association report called the “inconvenient” truths that complicate the picture. What we lose in that scrubbing is not just accuracy. We lose the full human story of this country, and with it, the lessons that might be useful today.

The selective telling is not new, but its current form has new energy. In recent years, legislation has been introduced across multiple states to restrict how teachers discuss slavery, Indigenous displacement, immigration history, and the treatment of women and the poor. The argument is usually dressed up as national unity and pride. But the practical effect is something else: a history curriculum where triumph and innovation are permissible but suffering and exploitation are edited out.

Historians surveying American teachers in 2024 found this impulse reflected in the classroom as well — students arriving with what teachers described as a “marble statues” version of history absorbed from earlier grades, one that freezes the Founders and other heroes in idealized civic memory, stripped of contradiction. The pitch is usually framed as morale: kids need pride and self esteem, not “division.” But the practical effect is a kind of historical editing that turns real people—enslaved Americans, Native communities, women, immigrants, and the poor—into background scenery rather than participants with agency, suffering, and claims on the national memory.

You can see the argument playing out in education policy and curriculum fights. The “patriotic education” push associated with the federal 1776 Commission is a clear example: it cast some approaches to teaching slavery and racism as inherently “anti-American,” and it encouraged a narrative that stresses national ideals while softening the lived realities that contradicted those ideals.

Historians’ organizations have answered back that this kind of narrowing doesn’t create unity so much as it creates amnesia. At the state level, controversies over how to describe or contextualize slavery—down to euphemisms and selective framing—keep resurfacing, because controlling the vocabulary controls the moral takeaway. Florida’s education standards went so far as to compare slavery with job training.

The tension between celebratory and critical history also appears in how we interpret national symbols. The Statue of Liberty, now widely read as a welcoming beacon for immigrants, was originally conceived in significant part as a commemoration of the end of slavery in the United States and of the nation’s centennial. Over time, its antislavery meaning was overshadowed by a more comfortable story about voluntary immigration and opportunity as official imagery and public campaigns recast the statue to fit new national needs. This shift did not merely “add” an interpretation; it obscured the connection between American liberty and Black emancipation, pushing aside the reality that millions arrived in chains rather than by choice.

The deeper problem isn’t that Americans disagree about the past—healthy societies argue about meaning all the time. The problem is when disagreement becomes a one-way ratchet: complexity gets labeled “bias,” and only a feel-good storyline qualifies as “neutral.” That’s not neutral. That’s a choice to privilege certain experiences as representative and treat others as “inconvenient.”

Nowhere does this distortion show up more clearly than in how Americans tend to celebrate the industrialists of the late 19th and early 20th centuries — the Gilded Age titans who built railroads, steel mills, and oil empires. Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan, Cornelius Vanderbilt: these men are frequently held up as models of American ambition and ingenuity, visionaries who transformed a post-Civil War nation into the world’s dominant industrial power. And they did do that. But the marble-statue version stops there, and stopping there is where the dishonesty begins.

Look at what powered that industrial machine: coal. And look at who powered coal. The men — and children — who went underground every day to dig it out of the earth under conditions that were, by any modern standard, a form of institutionalized violence. Between 1880 and 1923, more than 70,000 coal miners died on the job in the United States. That is not a rounding error; it is a small city’s worth of human lives, consumed by an industry that knew the dangers and chose profits over protection. Cave-ins, gas explosions, machinery accidents, and the slow suffocation of black lung took miners in ones and twos on ordinary days, and in mass casualties during what miners grimly called “explosion season” — when dry winter air made methane and coal dust especially volatile. Three major mine disasters in the first decade of the 1900s killed 201, 362, and 239 miners respectively, the latter two occurring within two weeks of each other.

And those were the adults. In the anthracite coal fields of Pennsylvania alone, an estimated 20,000 boys were working as “breaker boys” in 1880 — children as young as eight years old, perched above chutes and conveyor belts for ten hours a day, six days a week, picking slate and impurities out of rushing coal with bare hands. The coal dust was so thick at times it obscured their view. Photographer Lewis Hine documented these children in the early 1900s specifically because he understood that seeing them — their coal-blackened faces, their missing fingers, their flat eyes — was the only way to make comfortable Americans confront the total cost of the industrial miracle. Pennsylvania passed a law in 1885 banning children under twelve from working in coal breakers. The law was routinely ignored; employers forged age documents and desperate families went along with it because the wages, however meager, kept families from starving.

Coal mining is a representative case study because the work was both essential and punishing, and because the labor conflicts were not metaphorical—they were sometimes literally armed. In the coalfields, many miners lived in company towns where the company controlled the housing and the local economy. Some workers were paid in “scrip” redeemable only at the company store, a system that locked families into dependency and debt. When union organizing surged, the backlash could be violent. West Virginia’s Mine Wars culminated in the Battle of Blair Mountain in 1921—widely described as the largest labor uprising in U.S. history—where thousands of miners confronted company-aligned forces and state power. The mine owners deployed heavy machine guns and hired private pilots to drop arial bombs on the miners.

If you zoom out, this pattern wasn’t limited to coal. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in 1911 became infamous partly because locked doors and poor safety practices trapped workers—mostly young immigrant women—leading to 146 deaths in minutes.

When workers tried to organize for better pay and safer conditions, the response from the industrialists and their allies was not negotiation. It was force. Henry Clay Frick, chairman at Carnegie Steel, cut worker wages in half while increasing shifts to twelve hours, then hired the Pinkerton Detective Agency — effectively a private army — to break the strike that followed at Homestead, PA in 1892. During the Great Railroad Strike of 1877, when workers walked off the job across the country, state militias were called in. In Maryland, militia fired into a crowd of strikers, killing eleven. In Pittsburgh, twenty more were killed with bayonets and rifle fire. A railroad executive of the era, asked about hungry striking workers, reportedly suggested they be given “a rifle diet for a few days” to see how they liked it. Throughout this period the federal government largely sided with capital against labor.

This is the part of the story that the marble-statue version leaves out — and not because it is marginal. The labor movement that emerged from these battles shaped virtually every protection American workers have today: the eight-hour workday, child labor laws, workplace safety regulations, the right to organize. These were not gifts handed down by generous industrialists. They were won through strikes, suffering, and in some cases, death. Ignoring that history does not honor the industrialists. It dishonors the workers.

The same pattern runs through every thread of American history that is currently under pressure. The story of westward expansion is incomplete without the story of Native displacement and the deliberate destruction of Indigenous cultures. The story of American agriculture is incomplete without the story of enslaved labor and the systems of racial control that followed emancipation. The story of American prosperity is incomplete without the story of immigrant communities channeled into the most dangerous, lowest-paid work and then told to be grateful for the opportunity. Women’s history, for most of American history, was not considered history at all. In each case, leaving out the difficult chapter does not produce a cleaner story. It produces a false one.

The argument for the marble-statue version is usually that complexity is demoralizing — that children need heroes, that citizens need pride, that a nation cannot function if it is constantly relitigating its worst moments. There is something in that concern worth taking seriously. History taught purely as a catalog of grievances is not good history either. But the answer to that problem is not to swap one distortion for another. Good history holds both: the genuine achievement and the genuine cost. Mark Twain understood this when he coined “The Gilded Age” — a title that means literally covered in a thin layer of gold over something much cheaper underneath. That phrase has been in the American vocabulary for 150 years because it captures something true about how surfaces can deceive.

A country that cannot look honestly at its own history is a country that will keep repeating the parts it refuses to examine. The enslaved deserve to be in the story. Indigenous people deserve to be in the story. Women deserve to be in the story. The breaker boys deserve to be in the story. The miners killed by the thousands deserve to be in the story. The workers shot by militias while asking for a living wage deserve to be in the story. Not because the story should only be about suffering, but because they were there — and because understanding what they faced, and what they fought for, and what they eventually changed, is how the story makes sense.

Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT.

Sources

American Historical Association. “American Lesson Plan: Curricular Content.” 2024.
https://www.historians.org/teaching-learning/k-12-education/american-lesson-plan/curricular-content/

Brewminate. “Replaceable Lives and Labor Abuse in the Gilded Age: Labor Exploitation and the Human Cost in America’s Gilded Age.” 2026.
https://brewminate.com/replaceable-lives-and-labor-abuse-in-the-gilded-age/

Bureau of Labor Statistics. “History of Child Labor in the United States, Part 1.” 2017.
https://www.bls.gov/opub/mlr/2017/article/history-of-child-labor-in-the-united-states-part-1.htm

Energy History Project, Yale University. “Coal Mining and Labor Conflict.”
https://energyhistory.yale.edu/coal-mining-and-labor-conflict/

Hannah-Jones, Nikole, et al. “A Brief History of Slavery That You Didn’t Learn in School.” New York Times Magazine. 2019.
https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/08/14/magazine/slavery-capitalism.html

Investopedia. “The Gilded Age Explained: An Era of Wealth and Inequality.” 2025.
https://www.investopedia.com/terms/g/gilded-age.asp

MLPP Pressbooks. “Gilded Age Labor Conflict.”
https://mlpp.pressbooks.pub/ushistory2/chapter/chapter-1/

Princeton School of Public and International Affairs. “Princeton SPIA Faculty Reflect on America’s Past as 250th Anniversary Approaches.” 2026.
https://spia.princeton.edu/

USA Today. “Millions of Native People Were Enslaved in the Americas. Their Story Is Rarely Told.” 2025.
https://www.usatoday.com/

Wikipedia. “Breaker Boy.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breaker_boy

Wikipedia. “Robber Baron (Industrialist).”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robber_baron_(industrialist)

America250 (U.S. Semiquincentennial Commission). “America250: The United States Semiquincentennial.”
https://www.america250.org/

Bunk History (citing Washington Post reporting). “The Statue of Liberty Was Created to Celebrate Freed Slaves, Not Immigrants.”
https://www.bunkhistory.org/

Upworthy. “The Statue of Liberty Is a Symbol of Welcoming Immigrants. That’s Not What She Was Originally Meant to Be.” 2026.
https://www.upworthy.com/

Lipoprotein(a): The Hidden Genetic Risk Factor That’s Finally Being Recognized

By John Turley

On March 9, 2026

In Medicine

For decades, most doctors, me included, focused on the usual suspects when assessing heart disease risk: LDL cholesterol, HDL cholesterol, triglycerides, blood pressure, and lifestyle factors like smoking, activity, and diet. But lurking in the background was another player that most of us didn’t routinely check and most patients had never heard of—lipoprotein(a), abbreviated as Lp(a) and pronounced “L-P-little-A.”

Here’s the sobering reality: about one in five people worldwide have elevated Lp(a) levels, and if you’re among them, your risk of heart attack or stroke roughly doubles or triples. Yet until recently, most clinical guidelines didn’t even recommend testing for it. Why? Because there wasn’t much doctors could do about it even if we found it. That’s changing now, and the story of Lp(a) offers a window into how medicine sometimes waits for treatment options before fully embracing a diagnostic test.

What Exactly Is Lipoprotein(a)?

Lp(a) is structurally similar to LDL cholesterol—both are cholesterol-carrying particles—but Lp(a) has an extra protein component called apolipoprotein(a), or apo(a), that makes it particularly troublesome. The structure of this protein varies dramatically between individuals due to differences in genetic sequences, and the specific variant you inherit from your parents determines your Lp(a) level for life.

Unlike LDL cholesterol, which rises with age and responds to diet and exercise, your Lp(a) level remains largely constant throughout your lifetime. Eating better, exercising more, losing weight—none of the lifestyle interventions that work wonders for other cardiovascular risk factors will budge your Lp(a). It’s entirely genetic. There’s also significant variation across populations, with individuals of African descent tending to have higher average Lp(a) levels compared to people of White or Asian backgrounds, though the clinical implications of these differences are still not well understood.

Getting Tested: Who Should Do It and How Does It Works

The blood test for Lp(a) isn’t part of a routine cholesterol panel—your doctor has to specifically order it. So, who should be tested? Current recommendations focus on people with a family history of high Lp(a), those with a personal or family history of premature heart disease (cardiovascular events before age 55 in men or 65 in women), and anyone diagnosed with familial hypercholesterolemia, a genetic condition where the body poorly recycles LDL cholesterol. About a third of people with familial hypercholesterolemia also have high Lp(a), compounding their cardiovascular risk significantly.

Because Lp(a) levels don’t change over time, a single test is all you need. Results can be reported in two different units—milligrams per deciliter (mg/dL) or nanomoles per liter (nmol/L)—and there’s no universal agreement on what constitutes a risky level. Most American guidelines use a threshold of ≥50 mg/dL or ≥125 nmol/L as indicating increased cardiovascular risk, with levels below 30 mg/dL generally considered normal.

What High Lp(a) Means for Your Health

The evidence linking elevated Lp(a) to cardiovascular disease has become increasingly compelling over the past two decades. People with high Lp(a) face a two to threefold increased risk of heart attack and aortic valve disease. For those with extremely elevated levels above 180 mg/dL, the cardiovascular risk approaches that of people with untreated familial hypercholesterolemia (genetic extremely high cholesterol), which is notoriously dangerous.

Beyond heart attacks and valve problems, elevated Lp(a) has been linked to peripheral arterial disease (clogged arteries) and aortic aneurysms. What makes it particularly insidious is that it contributes to what researchers call “residual cardiovascular risk”—meaning it raises your chances of a cardiovascular event even when your LDL cholesterol is well controlled. You could be doing everything right by traditional measures and still be at elevated risk if your Lp(a) is high.

A large multi-ethnic study following nearly 28,000 people for an average of 21 years found that higher Lp(a) levels were consistently associated with greater cardiovascular disease risk across different ethnic groups and in both men and women. The mechanism involves both promoting arterial plaque buildup and increasing blood clot formation—a double threat to cardiovascular health.

Current Management Options: Limited but Important

This is where the story gets frustrating. For years, the honest answer to “what can I do about my high Lp(a)?” has been: not much directly, but a few things indirectly.

While lifestyle changes won’t affect your Lp(a) numbers, people with high levels should still follow all standard heart-healthy practices—physical activity, good nutrition, adequate sleep, avoiding smoking, and maintaining a healthy weight. The logic is straightforward: if you can’t eliminate one major risk factor, be more diligent about controlling all the others.

People with high Lp(a) may also benefit from more aggressive LDL cholesterol treatment, even if their LDL is already in a normal range. Some injectable cholesterol medications can lower Lp(a) by about 20% in some patients in addition to their primary effect on LDL. This helps overall cardiovascular risk even if it doesn’t fully address the Lp(a) problem.

For the most severe cases, the only FDA-approved treatment specifically targeting Lp(a) lipoprotein is apheresis which filters apolipoprotein-containing particles from the blood, achieving over 50% reduction. But the reductions are temporary, the procedure is similar to dialysis in its time demands, and it’s expensive and reserved for only the most extreme situations. It’s not a practical solution for the millions of people with moderately elevated levels.

The Treatment Revolution: New Therapies on the Horizon

Here’s where things get genuinely exciting. After decades of essentially no targeted treatment, five promising new therapies are now in advanced clinical development.

Four are RNA-based therapies that work by silencing the gene responsible for producing apolipoprotein(a) in the liver thereby preventing Lp(a) formation at its source. All are engineered to be taken up specifically by liver cells, where Lp(a) is made to minimize side effects elsewhere.

Early trial results have been remarkable. One drug, given as a monthly injection under the skin, has reduced Lp(a) levels by about 80%, with 98% of participants achieving levels below the risk threshold of 50 mg/dL. A phase 3 trial enrolling over 8,300 patients is expected to report results sometime in 2026, potentially leading to regulatory approval shortly after.

Other drugs have shown even more dramatic results, with one achieving a 93.9% reduction in Lp(a) with a single dose, with the effect persisting above 90% even at 360 days after just one injection.

There’s also an oral medication in development which works by preventing the apo(a) protein from assembling into Lp(a) particles in the first place. Taken daily as a pill, it has shown reductions of 63-65%—less dramatic than the RNA-based therapies, but potentially preferable for patients who want to avoid injections entirely.

The Critical Caveat

While these medications dramatically lower Lp(a) levels, we don’t yet have definitive proof that lowering Lp(a) will prevent heart attacks and strokes. That sounds counterintuitive—if high Lp(a) causes cardiovascular disease, then lowering it should help—but medicine requires rigorous evidence from randomized controlled trials. The FDA won’t approve these drugs based solely on their ability to improve a lab value; they need to demonstrate actual clinical benefit. Large outcome trials are underway and we should have answers within the next few years.

Where Things Stand Now

The story of Lp(a) reflects a broader tension in medicine: when should we test for something we can’t yet treat? For decades, many argued against routine screening precisely because no targeted therapies existed. That calculus has shifted. Recent reviews have concluded that the benefits of early detection now outweigh the risks, even though specific Lp(a)-lowering drugs are not yet approved, because early knowledge allows for more aggressive management of other risk factors.

For the roughly 20-25% of people with elevated Lp(a), the next few years could bring transformative options. If you fall into one of the higher-risk groups and have never been tested, it’s worth asking your doctor whether screening makes sense. The treatment landscape for Lp(a) is changing faster than it has in decades, and knowing your number today puts you in a much better position to act when those new options arrive.

Illustration generated by the author using ChatGPT.

Sources

American Heart Association. (n.d.). Lipoprotein (a). https://www.heart.org/en/health-topics/cholesterol/genetic-conditions/lipoprotein-a

American Heart Association. (n.d.). Lipoprotein (a) meaning and how does it impact my heart health? https://www.heart.org/en/health-topics/cholesterol/genetic-conditions/lipoprotein-a-risks

Beck, D. L. (2025). Lipoprotein(a): An independent risk factor for CV disease. American College of Cardiology. https://www.acc.org/latest-in-cardiology/articles/2025/12/01/01/feature-lipoprotein-a

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2025). About lipoprotein (a). https://www.cdc.gov/heart-disease-family-history/about/about-lipoprotein-a.html

Cleveland Clinic. (2025). Novel siRNA reduces lipoprotein(a) by more than 90% for 48 weeks. https://consultqd.clevelandclinic.org/novel-sirna-reduces-lipoproteina-by-more-than-90-for-48-weeks

Corliss, J. (2025). Lipoprotein(a): An update on testing and treatment. Harvard Health Publishing. https://www.health.harvard.edu/heart-health/lipoproteina-an-update-on-testing-and-treatment

Grundy, S. M., & Stone, N. J. (2022). Lipoprotein(a): A genetically determined, causal, and prevalent risk factor for atherosclerotic cardiovascular disease: A scientific statement from the American Heart Association. Arteriosclerosis, Thrombosis, and Vascular Biology, 42(1), e48-e60. https://www.ahajournals.org/doi/10.1161/ATV.0000000000000147

Katsiki, N., et al. (2023). An update on lipoprotein(a): The latest on testing, treatment, and guideline recommendations. American College of Cardiology. https://www.acc.org/Latest-in-Cardiology/Articles/2023/09/19/10/54/An-Update-on-Lipoprotein-a

Lombardi, A., et al. (2024). Lipoprotein (a): Underrecognized risk with a promising future. PMC. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11607505/

Lombardo, C., et al. (2025). Lp(a)-lowering agents in development: A new era in tackling the burden of cardiovascular risk? PMC. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12115060/

Managed Healthcare Executive. (2025). New therapies on the way to lower Lp(a), a cardiovascular risk factor. https://www.managedhealthcareexecutive.com/view/new-therapies-on-the-way-to-lower-lp-a-a-cardiovascular-risk-factor

Papathanasiou, M., et al. (2025). Current clinical trials for treating elevated lipoprotein(a). PMC. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12282488/

Sabatine, M. S., et al. (2025). Lipoprotein(a) as a pharmacological target: Premises, promises, and prospects. Circulation. https://www.ahajournals.org/doi/10.1161/CIRCULATIONAHA.124.069210

StatPearls. (2024). Lipoprotein A. National Center for Biotechnology Information. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK570621/

Tsimikas, S., et al. (2025). Pelacarsen: Mechanism of action and Lp(a)-lowering effect. ScienceDirect. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1933287425003228

Tsimikas, S., et al. (2025). Rethinking cardiovascular risk: The emerging role of lipoprotein(a) screening. ScienceDirect. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2666667725000182

Wong, N. D., et al. (2024). Lipoprotein(a) and long-term cardiovascular risk in a multi-ethnic pooled prospective cohort. Journal of the American College of Cardiology. https://www.jacc.org/doi/10.1016/j.jacc.2024.02.031

Zambon, A., et al. (2023). Lipoprotein(a) as a risk factor for cardiovascular diseases: Pathophysiology and treatment perspectives. PMC. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10531345/

Henry Knox vs Joseph Plumb Martin: A Case Study in Officer Privilege After the Revolution

By John Turley

On March 5, 2026

In History

Last week I looked at how poorly revolutionary war veterans were treated in general. This week I’d like to take a look at a specific example —the contrast between how generals like Henry Knox and common soldiers like Joseph Plumb Martin fared after the Revolutionary War. It perfectly illustrates the class divide I discussed in my previous post. These two men served in the same army, helped win the same independence, and endured similar hardships—although Martin endured far greater hardship. Their post-war experiences couldn’t have been more different—and in a bitter twist, Knox’s prosperity came partly at Martin’s expense.
Knox’s Golden Parachute
Henry Knox entered the war as a Boston bookseller of modest means whose military knowledge was gained from reading rather than formal training. He rose to become Washington’s chief of artillery and a major general. When the war ended, Knox received benefits that set him up for life—or should have.
As an officer who served until the war’s end, Knox received the 1783 commutation payment: five years’ full pay in the form of government securities bearing six percent annual interest. This came after Knox himself helped lead the officer corps in pressuring Congress for payment during the near-mutiny known as the Newburgh Conspiracy in early 1783. In total, 2,480 officers received these commutation certificates
But Knox’s real windfall came from his marriage and his government connections. His wife Lucy came from a wealthy Loyalist family—her grandfather was Brigadier General Samuel Waldo, who’d gained control of a massive land patent in Maine in the 1730’s. When Lucy’s family fled to England, she became the sole heir to approximately 576,000 acres known as the Waldo Patent.
Knox used his position as the first Secretary of War (earning $3,000 annually in 1793) and his wartime connections to expand his land holdings and business ventures. He was able to ensure that his wife’s family lands were passed to her, rather than being seized by the government, as the holding of many loyalists were. Knox was firmly positioned on the creditor side of the equation, and his political connections helped shield him from the harsh economic reality faced by common soldiers.
He also acquired additional property in the Ohio Valley and engaged in extensive land speculation. He ran multiple businesses: timber operations, shipbuilding, brick-making, quarrying, and extensive real estate development.
After retiring from government in 1795, he built Montpelier, a magnificent three-story mansion in Thomaston, Maine, described as having “beauty, symmetry and magnificence” unequaled in Massachusetts. (My wife and I visited a reconstruction of his mansion this past summer and I can personally testify as to how elaborate a home it was.)
Martin’s Broken Promises
Joseph Plumb Martin’s story is the experience of the roughly 80,000-90,000 common soldiers who did most of the fighting. Martin enlisted at age 15 in 1776 and served seven years—fighting at Brooklyn, White Plains, Monmouth, surviving Valley Forge, and digging trenches at Yorktown. He rose from private to sergeant.
When Martin mustered out, he received certificates of indebtedness instead of actual pay—IOUs that depreciated rapidly. Unlike Knox, enlisted men received no pension, no commutation payment, nothing beyond those nearly worthless certificates. Martin, like many veterans, sold his certificates to speculators at a fraction of their face value just to survive.
After teaching briefly in New York, Martin settled in Maine in the early 1790s. Based on the promise of a land bounty from Massachusetts, Martin and other “Liberty Men” each claimed 100 acres in Maine, assuming that Loyalist lands would be confiscated and sold cheaply to the current occupants or, perhaps, even treated as vacant lands they could secure by clearing and improving.
Martin married Lucy Clewley in 1794 and started farming. He’d fought for independence and now just wanted to build a modest life in the belief that the country he had fought for would stand by its promises.
When Former Comrades Became Adversaries
Here’s where the story takes a dark turn. In 1794, Henry Knox—Martin’s former commanding general—asserted legal ownership of Martin’s 100-acre farm. Knox claimed the land was part of the Waldo Patent. Martin and other settlers argued they had the right to farm the land they’d improved, especially as it should be payment for their Revolutionary service.
The dispute dragged on for years, with some veterans even forming a guerrilla group called the “White Indians” who attacked Knox’s surveyors. But Knox had wealth, lawyers, and political connections. In 1797, the legal system upheld Knox’s claim. Martin’s farm was appraised at $170—payable over six years in installments.
To put that in perspective, when Martin finally received a pension in 1818—twenty-one years later—it paid only $96 per year. And to get even that meager pension, Martin had to prove he was destitute. The $170 Knox demanded represented nearly two years of the pension Martin wouldn’t receive for another two decades.
Martin begged Knox to let him keep the land. There’s no evidence Knox even acknowledged his letters. By 1811, Martin had lost more than half his farm. By 1818, when he appeared before the Massachusetts General Court with other veterans seeking their long-promised pensions, he owned nothing.
The Irony of “Fair Treatment”
Knox claimed he treated settlers on his Maine lands fairly, though he used intermediaries to evict those who couldn’t pay rent or whom he considered to be squatters. The settlers disagreed so strenuously that they once threatened to burn Montpelier to the ground
The situation’s bitter irony is hard to overstate. Knox had been one of the officers who organized the Society of the Cincinnati in 1783, ostensibly to support widows and orphans of Revolutionary War officers. He’d helped lead the push for officer commutation payments by threatening Congress during the Newburgh affair. Yet when common soldiers like Martin—men who’d literally dug the trenches that won the siege at Yorktown—needed help, Knox showed no mercy.
The Numbers Tell the Story
Let’s compare their situations side by side:
Henry Knox:
              ∙            Officer commutation: Five years’ full pay in securities with 6% interest
              ∙            Secretary of War salary: $3,000 per year (1793)
              ∙            Land holdings: 576,000+ acres in Maine, plus Ohio Valley properties
              ∙            Housing: Three-story mansion with extensive outbuildings
              ∙            Businesses: Multiple ventures in timber, ships, bricks, quarrying, real estate
              ∙            Death: 1806, in debt from failed business ventures but having lived in luxury
Joseph Plumb Martin:
              ∙            Enlisted pay: Mostly unpaid certificates sold at a loss to speculators
              ∙            Pension: None until 1818, then $96 per year (had to be destitute to qualify)
              ∙            Land holdings: Started with 100 acres, lost all most all of it to Knox by 1818
              ∙            Housing: Small farmhouse, struggling to farm 8 of his original 100 acres
              ∙            Income: Subsistence farming, served as town clerk for modest pay
              ∙            Death: 1850 at age 89, having struggled financially his entire post-war life
A Memoir Born of Frustration
In 1830, at age 70, Martin published his memoir anonymously. The full title captured his experience: “A Narrative of Some of the Adventures, Dangers, and Sufferings of a Revolutionary Soldier.” He published it partly to support other veterans fighting for their promised benefits and possibly hoping to earn some money from sales.
The book didn’t sell. It essentially disappeared until a first edition was rediscovered in the 1950s and republished in 1962. Today it’s considered one of the most valuable primary sources we have for understanding what common soldiers experienced during the Revolution. Historians praise it precisely because it’s not written by someone like Washington, Knox, or Greene—it’s the voice of a regular soldier
When Martin died in 1850, a passing platoon of U.S. Light Infantry stopped at his house and fired a salute to honor the Revolutionary War hero. But that gesture of respect came long after the country should have helped Martin when he needed it.
The Broader Pattern
Knox wasn’t unusual among officers, nor was Martin unusual among enlisted men. This was the pattern: officers with education, connections, and capital leveraged their wartime service into political positions, land grants, and business opportunities. Common soldiers received promises, waited decades for minimal pensions, and often lost what little property they had to the very elites who’d commanded them.
It’s worth noting that Knox’s business ventures eventually failed. He died in debt in 1806, having borrowed extensively to fund his speculations. His widow Lucy had to gradually sell off land to survive. But Knox still lived eleven years in a mansion, engaged in enterprises of his choosing, and died surrounded by family on his comfortable estate. Martin outlived him by forty-four years, spending most of them in poverty.
The story of Knox and Martin isn’t one of villainy versus heroism. Knox was a capable general who genuinely contributed to winning independence. Martin was a dedicated soldier who did the same. But the system they operated within distributed the benefits of that shared victory in profoundly unequal ways, and Knox—whether intentionally or not—used that system to take what little they had from soldiers who’d fought under his command. This was not corruption in the modern sense; it was the predictable outcome of a system that rewarded status, education, and proximity to power. Knox’s experience illustrates a broader truth of the post-Revolutionary period: independence redistributed political sovereignty, but economic security flowed upward, not downward.
When we talk about how Continental Army veterans were treated, this is what it looked like on the ground: the officer who led the charge for officer pensions living in a mansion on 600,000 acres, while the sergeant who dug the trenches at Yorktown lost his 100-acre farm and had to prove he was destitute to get $96 a year, decades too late to matter. This will always be a black mark on American history.

Illustrations generated by author using ChatGPT.

Personal note: I spent 12 years on active duty, both as an officer and an enlisted man. I’m proud of my service and I’m proud of the people who have served our country. I do not write this in order to condemn our history. I write it in order to make us aware that we need to always support the common people who contribute vitally to our national success and are seldom recognized.

Sources
Martin, Joseph Plumb. “A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier: Some of the Adventures, Dangers and Sufferings of Joseph Plumb Martin”
Originally published anonymously in 1830 at Hallowell, Maine as “A narrative of some of the adventures, dangers, and sufferings of a Revolutionary soldier, interspersed with anecdotes of incidents that occurred within his own observation.” The memoir fell into obscurity until a first edition copy was discovered in the 1950s and donated to Morristown National Historical Park. Republished by Little, Brown in 1962 under the title “Private Yankee Doodle” (edited by George F. Scheer). Current edition published 2001. This firsthand account by a Continental Army private who served seven years provides invaluable insight into the common soldier’s experience during the war and the struggles veterans faced afterward, including Martin’s own land dispute with Henry Knox. I highly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in ordinary people and their role in history.

American Battlefield Trust – The Newburgh Conspiracy
https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/newburgh-conspiracy

Maine Memory Network – Henry Knox: Land Dealings
https://thomaston.mainememory.net/page/735/display.html

World History Encyclopedia – Henry Knox
https://www.worldhistory.org/Henry_Knox/

Maine: An Encyclopedia – Knox, Henry
https://maineanencyclopedia.com/knox-henry/

American Battlefield Trust – Joseph Plumb Martin: Voice of the Common American Soldier
https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/joseph-plumb-martin

Wikipedia – Joseph Plumb Martin
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Plumb_Martin

Note on Additional Context: While these were the primary sources directly used in this article, the discussion also drew on information from my earlier Revolutionary War veterans article about the general treatment of enlisted soldiers, pension systems, and the class disparities in how benefits were distributed after the war.

Understanding Critical Race Theory: What It Is—and Why It Divides America

By John Turley

On March 2, 2026

In Commentary, History, Politics

When I first started hearing debates about Critical Race Theory, I thought these people can’t possibly be talking about the same thing. There seemed to be no common ground—even the words they were using seemed to have different meanings.

Critical Race Theory (CRT) has become one of the most contested intellectual concepts in contemporary American culture. Originally developed in law schools during the 1970s and 1980s, CRT has evolved into a broad analytical method of examining how race and racism operate in society. Understanding its origins, core principles, and the political debates surrounding it requires examining both its academic foundations and its journey into public consciousness.

Origins and Early Development

Legal scholars who were dissatisfied with the slow pace of racial progress following the Civil Rights Movement laid the groundwork for CRT. The early figures included Derrick Bell, often considered the father of CRT, along with Alan Freeman, Richard Delgado, Kimberlé Crenshaw, and Cheryl Harris. These scholars were frustrated that despite landmark legislation like the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, racial inequality persisted across American institutions.

The intellectual roots of CRT can be traced to Critical Legal Studies, a movement that challenged traditional legal scholarship’s claims of objectivity and neutrality. However, CRT scholars felt that Critical Legal Studies failed to adequately address race and racism. They drew inspiration from various sources, including the work of civil rights lawyers like Charles Hamilton Houston, sociological insights about institutional racism, and postmodern critiques of knowledge and power.

Derrick Bell’s groundbreaking work in the 1970s laid crucial foundation. His “interest convergence” theory, presented in his analysis of Brown v. Board of Education, argued that advances in civil rights occur only when they align with white interests. This insight became central to CRT’s understanding of how racial progress unfolds in American society.

Core Elements and Principles

Critical Race Theory encompasses several key tenets that distinguish it from other approaches to studying race and racism.

First, CRT posits that race is not biologically real; it’s a human invention to justify unequal treatment. It also holds that racism is not merely individual prejudice, but a systemic feature of American society embedded in legal, political, and social institutions. This “structural racism” perspective emphasizes how seemingly neutral policies and practices can perpetuate racial inequality.

Second, CRT challenges the traditional civil rights approach that emphasizes color-blindness and incremental reform. Instead, CRT scholars argue that color-blind approaches often mask and perpetuate racial inequities. They advocate for race-conscious policies and a more aggressive approach to dismantling systemic racism.

Third, CRT emphasizes the importance of lived experience in the form of storytelling and narrative. Scholars use personal narratives, historical accounts, and counter-stories to challenge dominant narratives about race and racism. This methodological approach reflects CRT’s belief that experiential knowledge from communities of color provides crucial insights often overlooked by traditional scholarship.

Fourth, CRT introduces the concept of intersectionality, a term coined by legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw. This framework examines how multiple forms of identity and oppression—including race, gender, class, and sexuality—intersect and compound each other’s effects.

Finally, CRT is explicitly activist-oriented with a goal of creating new norms of interracial interaction. Unlike purely descriptive academic theories, CRT aims to understand racism in order to eliminate it. This commitment to social transformation distinguishes CRT from more traditional academic approaches.

Evolution and Expansion

Since its origins in legal studies, CRT has expanded into numerous disciplines including education, sociology, political science, and ethnic studies. In education, scholars like Gloria Ladson-Billings and William Tate applied CRT frameworks to understand racial disparities in schooling. This educational application of CRT examines how school policies, curriculum, and practices contribute to achievement gaps and educational inequality.

Conservative Perspectives

Conservative critics of CRT raise several concerns about the theory and its applications. They argue that CRT’s emphasis on systemic racism is overly deterministic and fails to account for individual differences and the significant progress made in racial equality since the Civil Rights era. Many conservatives contend that CRT promotes a victim mentality that undermines personal responsibility and achievement.

From this perspective, CRT’s race-conscious approach is seen as divisive and potentially counterproductive. Critics argue that emphasizing racial differences rather than common humanity perpetuates division and resentment. They often prefer color-blind approaches that treat all individuals equally regardless of race.

Conservative critics also express concern about CRT’s application in educational settings, arguing that it introduces inappropriate political content into classrooms and may cause students to feel guilt or shame based on their racial identity. Some argue that CRT-influenced curricula amount to indoctrination rather than education.

Additionally, some conservatives view CRT as fundamentally un-American, arguing that its critique of American institutions and emphasis on systemic oppression undermines national unity and patriotism. They contend that CRT presents an overly negative view of American history and society.

Some conservatives go further, calling CRT a form of “anti-American radicalism.” They believe it rejects Enlightenment values—reason, objectivity, and universal rights—in favor of ideology and emotion. Others criticize CRT’s reliance on narrative and lived experience, arguing that it substitutes storytelling for empirical evidence.

Liberal Perspectives

Supporters of CRT argue that it provides essential tools for understanding persistent racial inequalities that other approaches fail to explain adequately. They contend that CRT’s focus on systemic racism accurately describes how racial disparities continue despite formal legal equality.

To them, CRT isn’t about blaming individuals; it’s about recognizing how systems work. Advocates say that color-blind policies often perpetuate inequality because they ignore how race has historically shaped opportunity. They see CRT as empowering marginalized communities to tell their stories and as pushing America closer to its own ideals of justice and equality.

Liberal and progressive thinkers see CRT as a reality check—a necessary tool for understanding and dismantling systemic racism. They argue that laws and policies that seem neutral can still produce racially unequal outcomes—for example disparities in school funding or redlining in housing. (Denying loans or insurance based on neighborhoods rather than individual qualifications.)

From this perspective, CRT’s race-conscious approach is necessary because color-blind policies have proven insufficient to address entrenched racial inequities. Supporters argue that acknowledging and directly confronting racism is more effective than pretending race doesn’t matter.

Liberal defenders of CRT emphasize its scholarly rigor and empirical grounding, arguing that criticism often mischaracterizes or oversimplifies the theory. They point out that CRT is primarily an analytical framework used by scholars and graduate students, not a curriculum taught to elementary school children, as some critics suggest. Progressive educators also note that much of what critics call “CRT in schools” is really teaching about historical facts—slavery, segregation, civil-rights struggles—not law-school theory. They argue that banning CRT is less about protecting students and more about suppressing uncomfortable conversations about race and history.

Supporters also argue that CRT’s emphasis on storytelling and lived experience provides valuable perspectives that have been historically marginalized in academic discourse. They see this as democratizing knowledge production rather than abandoning scholarly standards.

Furthermore, many on the left argue that attacks on CRT represent attempts to silence discussions of racism and maintain the status quo. They view criticism of CRT as part of a broader backlash against racial justice efforts.

Why It Matters

You don’t have to buy every part of CRT to see why it struck a nerve. It forces us to ask uncomfortable but important questions: Why do some inequalities persist even after laws change? How do institutions carry the weight of history?

Whether you agree or disagree with CRT, it’s hard to deny that it has shaped how Americans talk about race. The theory challenges us to look beyond personal prejudice and ask how systems distribute power and privilege. Its critics, in turn, remind us that any theory of justice must preserve individual rights and shared civic values.

The real challenge may be learning to hold both ideas at once: that racism can be systemic, and that individuals should still be treated as individuals. CRT’s greatest value—and its greatest controversy—comes from forcing that tension into the open.

Sources:

JSTOR Daily. “What Is Critical Race Theory?” https://daily.jstor.org/what-is-critical-race-theory/ (Accessed December 3, 2025)

Harvard Law Review Blog. “Derrick Bell’s Interest Convergence and the Permanence of Racism: A Reflection on Resistance.” https://harvardlawreview.org/blog/2020/08/derrick-bells-interest-convergence-and-the-permanence-of-racism-a-reflection-on-resistance/ (March 24, 2023)

Bell, Derrick A., Jr. “Brown v. Board of Education and the Interest-Convergence Dilemma.” Harvard Law Review, Vol. 93, No. 3 (January 1980), pp. 518-533.

Columbia Law School. “Kimberlé Crenshaw on Intersectionality, More than Two Decades Later.” https://www.law.columbia.edu/news/archive/kimberle-crenshaw-intersectionality-more-two-decades-later

Crenshaw, Kimberlé. “Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics.” 1989.

Britannica. “Richard Delgado | American legal scholar.” https://www.britannica.com/biography/Richard-Delgado

Wikipedia. “Critical Race Theory.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Critical_race_theory (Updated December 31, 2025)

MTSU First Amendment Encyclopedia. “Critical Race Theory.” https://www.mtsu.edu/first-amendment/article/1254/critical-race-theory (July 10, 2024)

Delgado, Richard and Jean Stefancic. “Critical Race Theory: An Introduction.” New York University Press, 2001 (2nd edition 2012, 3rd edition 2018).

Teachers College Press. “Critical Race Theory in Education.” https://www.tcpress.com/critical-race-theory-in-education-9780807765838

American Bar Association. “A Lesson on Critical Race Theory.” https://www.americanbar.org/groups/crsj/publications/human_rights_magazine_home/civil-rights-reimagining-policing/a-lesson-on-critical-race-theory/

NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund. “What is Critical Race Theory, Anyway? | FAQs.” https://www.naacpldf.org/critical-race-theory-faq/ (May 6, 2025)

The illustration was generated by the author using Midjourney.

The Broken Promises: How America Treated Its Revolutionary War Veterans

By John Turley

On February 27, 2026

In Uncategorized

The story of how the Continental Army’s veterans were treated after winning independence reads like a betrayal. These men had endured Valley Forge, fought without pay — — often without food or clothing — risking everything for a revolution that promised liberty and opportunity. What many received instead was financial ruin, confiscated land, and a harsh lesson in how political power and economic class determined who really benefited from their shared sacrifice.

The Pay That Never Came

Let me start with the most basic broken promise — pay. Continental soldiers were supposed to receive regular wages, but the Continental Congress lacked the power to tax and relied on increasingly worthless paper money. By war’s end, many soldiers hadn’t been paid in months or even years. When they finally returned home, they carried IOUs called “certificates of indebtedness” rather than actual money.

The wealthy and well-connected quickly figured out how to profit from this situation. Speculators traveled through rural areas buying up these certificates from desperate veterans at pennies on the dollar. The soldiers, facing immediate debts and no income, often had no choice but to sell. When the federal government eventually redeemed these certificates at full value under Alexander Hamilton’s financial plan in the 1790s, it was the speculators who made fortunes, not the men who’d earned the money, suffered and won the revolution.

Pensions: Promised to Officers, Denied to Enlisted Men

The pension situation revealed the class divisions even more starkly. In 1780, Congress promised officers who served until the war’s end a pension of half-pay for life. Common soldiers received no such promise. When the officers’ pensions proved controversial and expensive, Congress “commuted” them in 1783 to a one-time payment of five years’ full pay — still nothing for the enlisted men who’d done most of the fighting and dying.

It wasn’t until 1818 that Congress finally created a pension for Continental Army privates, and even then, only for those in “reduced circumstances” — meaning you had to prove you were poor to get it. The maximum annual pension was $96, hardly generous compensation for years of service. Soldiers who had served in militia units were generally excluded. By contrast, officers had already received their commutations decades earlier and often held positions of economic and political power.

Land Bounties: Another Empty Promise

Land bounties represented another avenue where common soldiers got shortchanged. Various colonies and Congress promised land grants to encourage enlistment — typically 100 acres for privates, scaling up to 500+ acres for officers and thousands of acres for generals. But there were problems from the start.

First, much of the promised land was in frontier territories like the Ohio Country, which remained dangerous and largely unsurveyed for years after the war. Second, the process of claiming your land required navigating bureaucratic systems, paying surveying fees, and sometimes traveling hundreds of miles. Third, the land often turned out to be of poor quality or in disputed areas. The average veteran with little education, almost no money and absolutely no political influence was seldom ever able to take advantage of the land bounty.

Predictably, speculators moved in. They bought up land bounty warrants from soldiers who lacked the resources or knowledge to claim them directly. One study found that in Virginia, which promised the most generous bounties, speculators ultimately controlled vast tracts while many veterans received little or nothing.

The Tax Collector Cometh

Here’s where the story gets particularly cruel. While veterans struggled with unpaid wages and unredeemed promises, the new state governments faced their own financial crises. They’d accumulated massive war debts and needed revenue. Their solution? Property taxes.

In Massachusetts, the legislature imposed heavy taxes payable in hard currency — gold or silver — which almost nobody in rural areas possessed. The same certificates of indebtedness that soldiers were given by the government weren’t accepted for tax payments, even though the state owed them that money. Veterans who’d sold their certificates for a fraction of their value to pay immediate debts now faced tax bills they couldn’t pay. These policies were not accidental side effects; they reflected the priorities of creditor classes concentrated in coastal towns, who preferred regressive property taxes over inflation or debt relief for veterans.

When farmers and veterans couldn’t pay these taxes, local sheriffs seized and auctioned their property. In many cases, the buyers at these auctions were the same merchant elites and speculators who’d bought up the certificates. This wasn’t accidental — it was a systematic transfer of wealth and property from those who’d fought the war to those who’d financed it, avoided personal risk and now controlled state governments. Elites did not overtly confiscate veterans’ land through direct political targeting; instead, they relied on neutral-looking fiscal policy — strict tax collection, aggressive debt enforcement, and courts unsympathetic to insolvency — to transfer property legally. The effect was unmistakable; veterans who fought for independence lost their farms to satisfy debts incurred during or immediately after their service, while wealthier investors accumulated land and made financial gains.

The Massachusetts situation became particularly egregious. Between 1784 and 1786, thousands of foreclosure proceedings were filed. Veterans who’d survived the war returned to find themselves losing their farms and, in some cases, being thrown into debtors’ prison.

Shays’ Rebellion: When Veterans Fought Back

The breaking point came in 1786 with Shays’ Rebellion in Massachusetts. Daniel Shays, a former Continental Army captain, led hundreds of veterans and farmers in an armed uprising against foreclosures and debt courts. They physically prevented courts from sitting, trying to halt the cascade of farm seizures. They represented the soldiers who’d won independence and felt the new government had betrayed them.

The rebellion was suppressed by a militia funded by wealthy Boston merchants and creditors as the state treasury lacked ready cash to pay troops. This was a clear demonstration of how thoroughly economic power had concentrated among elites and sent shockwaves through the political establishment. To many rural farmers the suppression looked like creditors hiring an army to enforce unjust laws against impoverished veterans.

Interestingly, most of the rebels received pardons, and Massachusetts did eventually reduce some taxes and reform debtor laws. But the damage was done, and the pattern had been established.

The Class Divide in Revolutionary Benefits

The broader pattern is unmistakable. Officers, who were generally drawn from propertied classes, received pensions and larger land bounties, had the education and connections to navigate bureaucratic systems, and often held the political power to protect their interests. Common soldiers, usually farmers or laborers, received certificates they had to sell at a loss, faced tax collectors seizing their property, and had little political voice. They disproportionately bore the costs of the new fiscal order through unpaid or depreciated wages, lack of early pension support, and vulnerability to foreclosure, while many of the tangible financial benefits of their service migrated to wealthier elites.

Some historians argue this wasn’t conspiracy but circumstance — that the new nation genuinely lacked resources and that markets naturally concentrated certificates in wealthier hands. There’s some truth to this. The Continental Congress was genuinely broke, and state governments faced real fiscal crises.

But the specific policy choices — redeeming certificates from speculators at full value while rejecting them for tax payments, creating pensions for officers but not enlisted men, setting tax policies that required hard currency that poor farmers didn’t have — these weren’t inevitable, they were a choice. They reflected the interests of those who held power in state legislatures and the Continental Congress.

The Long Echo

The treatment of Continental Army veterans established patterns that would echo through American history: promises made during wartime, broken during peace; benefits flowing more generously to officers than enlisted men. Economic and political elites using legal mechanisms to transfer wealth from those who fought the revolution to those who financed it.

The first genuinely “service‑based” pension law that broadly covered surviving Continental soldiers — regardless of disability — did not arrive until 1818, three decades after the war, and it initially required proof of indigence, effectively screening out better‑off veterans and stigmatizing poorer ones. Not until the 1832 act did Congress move toward full pay for life for many surviving officers and enlisted men — including militia — based on length of service alone. But large numbers of veterans had already lost their farms, spent years in poverty, or died. The benefits came too late and too meagerly to undo decades of hardship. They were owed better.

Illustrations generated by author using ChatGPT.

Sources:

Mount Vernon Digital Encyclopedia — Veterans of the Revolutionary War https://www.mountvernon.org/library/digitalhistory/digital-encyclopedia/article/veterans-of-the-revolutionary-war/

This George Washington Presidential Library resource provides an overview of how Continental Army veterans were treated, including details on certificate speculation, payment issues, and the general economic struggles veterans faced after the war.

National Archives — Revolutionary War Pension Files https://www.archives.gov/research/military/war-of-1812/pension-files

While this link references War of 1812 pensions, the National Archives maintains extensive documentation on Revolutionary War pensions as well. The site explains the evolution of pension systems and eligibility requirements, including the 1818 act that finally provided pensions to enlisted men who could prove poverty.

Encyclopedia Virginia — Military Bounty Lands https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/entries/military-bounty-lands/

This scholarly resource details Virginia’s land bounty system, which was among the most extensive. It documents how these bounties were promised, the challenges veterans faced in claiming them, and how speculators ultimately acquired much of the promised land.

American Battlefield Trust — Shays’ Rebellion https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/shays-rebellion

This article provides context on the 1786–1787 uprising in Massachusetts, explaining the economic conditions that drove veterans to armed resistance, the foreclosure crisis, and the rebellion’s impact on constitutional debates.

Massachusetts Historical Society — Shays’ Rebellion https://www.masshist.org/features/shays/

Fitness for Seniors: A Practical Guide to Getting Started and Staying Active

By John Turley

On February 25, 2026

In Medicine

Here’s a sobering statistic to kick things off: fewer than 15% of people ages 65 and older meet the federal Physical Activity Guidelines. That’s despite the mountain of evidence showing that regular movement is one of the most powerful tools we have for aging well. Physical activity helps prevent and manage chronic diseases like heart disease, diabetes, and obesity, and for older adults specifically, it reduces the risk of falling, supports more years of independent living, and improves brain health.

The good news? It’s never too late to start, and even modest improvements make a real difference. This guide breaks down what exercise should look like at different stages of older adulthood — beginning with a starter plan for newcomers and building into a long-term maintenance approach.

The Foundation: What Every Senior Needs

Before diving into age-specific details, it helps to understand the three pillars of senior fitness. To get substantial health benefits, older adults need three types of activity each week: moderate- or vigorous-intensity aerobic exercise, muscle-strengthening activities, and balance training.

The target, according to both the WHO and CDC, is 150 minutes of moderate-intensity aerobic activity combined with 2–3 days of strength training per week, along with balance and flexibility exercises.

That said, these numbers aren’t a cliff — they’re a destination. For someone who hasn’t exercised in years, starting with 10 minutes of walking three times a week is a legitimate and meaningful beginning.

The Beginning Plan: Weeks 1–12

The biggest mistake new exercisers make at any age is doing too much too soon. For seniors, that’s not just discouraging — it can lead to injury. The goal of the first three months is to build a habit and establish a safe baseline, not to hit peak performance.

Week 1–4: Getting Moving

Start with walking. It’s free, low-impact, and one of the most studied forms of exercise in older adults. Aim for 10–15 minutes of brisk walking (meaning you can talk but not sing) on three days per week. Pair this with two days of very light strength work — seated leg raises, wall push-ups, and chair-assisted squats are all good options. On the same days as strength work, spend 5–10 minutes on gentle stretching and simple balance exercises like standing on one foot while holding a chair. This isn’t glamorous, but it works.

Week 5–8: Building Consistency

Extend walking sessions to 20–25 minutes and add a fourth day if possible. For strength training, begin using light resistance bands or small hand weights. Aim for 8 to 12 repetitions per exercise, which counts as one set, and try to do at least one set of muscle-strengthening activities — working up to two or three sets for more benefit. Continue balance work daily if possible, even if just 5 minutes of standing on one foot near a wall.

Week 9–12: Progressing Toward the Target

By the end of this phase, the goal is to be walking 30 minutes on most days, doing strength training twice a week, and building some basic balance confidence. Many people find water aerobics or a beginner yoga class fits well here — these are what researchers call “multicomponent” activities that hit aerobic fitness, strength, and balance simultaneously.

The Maintenance Plan

Once the habit is established, the goal shifts to consistency and gradual improvement. The maintenance plan is simply a sustainable version of the full guidelines, adapted to fit daily life.

A solid maintenance week might look like: three to four days of 30-minute brisk walks or light cycling, two days of resistance training targeting the major muscle groups (legs, back, core, and arms), and daily balance work woven into ordinary activities — standing on one foot while brushing teeth, walking heel-to-toe down a hallway. If you take a break due to illness or travel, start again at a lower level and slowly work back up.

Age 65: The “Just Starting” Window

At 65, most people are either newly retired or approaching it. Energy levels are generally still high, and the body is still reasonably responsive to new exercise demands.

The primary goals at 65 are cardiovascular health, maintaining muscle mass, and establishing the exercise habit before age-related decline accelerates. Strength training is especially important here because muscle loss (called sarcopenia) begins in earnest in the 60s. Weight-bearing activities like walking and resistance training also help preserve bone density.

At 65, most people can follow the full beginning plan above without major modification. Joint pain, if present, is best addressed by switching to low-impact options (pool walking, cycling, elliptical) rather than skipping exercise altogether. This is also an excellent time to get a checkup and mention your exercise plans to a doctor, particularly if you have any chronic conditions.

Age 70: Prioritizing Balance and Flexibility

By 70, the picture shifts somewhat. Muscle and bone loss continue, and reaction time begins to slow — which is why fall prevention becomes a central focus. One-third of older adults aged 65 and over fall each year, and 50% of those fall repeatedly. The risk rises significantly with each passing decade.

The research is clear on this point: balance training works. Balance measures in intervention studies showed improvements between 16% and 42% compared to baseline assessments. Activities like Tai Chi are particularly effective — Tai Chi interventions were associated with approximately 31–58% reductions in falls, the Otago Exercise Program with 23–40% reductions, and multimodal strength-balance training with 20–45% reductions.

At 70, the aerobic goal remains 150 minutes per week, but it’s smart to reduce session intensity slightly if needed and focus more time on balance and flexibility work. Yoga, Tai Chi, and water fitness classes are excellent choices. Strength training should continue, but with a greater emphasis on functional movements — exercises that mimic everyday activities like getting up from a chair or reaching overhead.

Age 75: Adapting Without Stopping

At 75, the conversation shifts from maximizing performance to protecting function and independence. The goal isn’t to work out like a 50-year-old — it’s to maintain the ability to live on your own terms.

Research suggests that neuromuscular impairments tend to worsen progressively with age, particularly in adults over 70, as natural age-related declines accelerate deterioration in reaction time, proprioception, and coordination. This makes structured balance training non-negotiable at this age.

Aerobic exercise may need to shift toward lower-impact formats: water aerobics, recumbent cycling, or simply slower, more deliberate walking. Strength training should continue at least twice a week, using lighter resistance with higher repetitions if heavy weights cause joint discomfort. Chair-based exercise programs are a reasonable option for those with limited mobility. Recovery time between sessions also gets longer with age, so spacing workouts out more evenly through the week becomes important.

One addition that becomes more relevant at 75: flexibility and mobility work. Spending 10–15 minutes on gentle stretching after every workout helps maintain the range of motion needed for daily activities like dressing, driving, and navigating stairs.

Age 80 and Above: Function First

At 80 and beyond, the fitness calculus is almost entirely about maintaining the ability to perform daily tasks safely and independently. That means the exercises themselves may look very different from what a 65-year-old does — and that’s perfectly appropriate.

The core principles don’t change: move every day, do some resistance work, and train your balance. But intensity drops, rest increases, and safety becomes the top priority. Chair-based strength exercises — seated leg lifts, ankle rotations, seated marching, resistance band pulls — are highly effective and much lower-risk than standing exercises for many people at this stage.

Balance work at 80+ should be done near a sturdy support surface. Even holding a chair while practicing a small weight shift from foot to foot provides meaningful benefit. Interventions with a total weekly dose of three or more hours that included balance and functional exercises were particularly effective, with a 42% reduction in the rate of falls compared to control.

Walking remains the single best aerobic exercise for this age group if mobility allows, even if sessions are shorter — 10 to 15 minutes, a few times a day, can accumulate to meaningful totals. Water-based exercise is especially valuable because buoyancy reduces joint stress while still providing resistance.

It’s worth noting that the emotional and social aspects of exercise become increasingly important at 80+. Group classes — whether at a senior center, community pool, or gym — provide motivation, accountability, and social connection alongside the physical benefits.

A Note on Medical Clearance

This guide is based on well-established public health guidelines, but individual health conditions vary enormously. Before starting any new exercise program, especially after 70, a conversation with a doctor or physical therapist is strongly recommended. That’s especially true if you’re managing heart disease, diabetes, severe arthritis, osteoporosis, or recent surgery.

Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT

Sources:

CDC Physical Activity for Older Adults: https://www.cdc.gov/physical-activity-basics/guidelines/older-adults.html

CDC: What Counts as Physical Activity for Older Adults: https://www.cdc.gov/physical-activity-basics/adding-older-adults/what-counts.html

ACSM Physical Activity Guidelines: https://acsm.org/education-resources/trending-topics-resources/physical-activity-guidelines/

Fall Prevention Exercise Effectiveness (PMC): https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10435089/

Falls Prevention Systematic Review (MDPI): https://www.mdpi.com/2075-1729/16/1/41

WHO-informed Falls Evidence (IJBNPA): https://ijbnpa.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12966-020-01041-3

Physical Activity in Older Adults (PMC): https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC11562269/

Balance and Physical Activity Programs (PMC): https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6635278/

The Frozen Frontier: Understanding Cryonics and the Quest to Cheat Death

By John Turley

On February 23, 2026

In Medicine

The Cold Hard Facts

So, you’ve probably heard about cryonics—the practice of freezing dead bodies in hopes of future revival—whether from sci-fi movies, an episode of Twilight Zone, or news stories about tech billionaires planning for immortality. But is there any legitimate science behind it, or is it all wishful thinking dressed up in lab coats? Let’s dig into this fascinating and controversial field.

Fair warning: this topic gets technical fast. I’ll do my best to keep things accessible, but some science-speak is unavoidable. I won’t pretend to offer an exhaustive examination of every element—that would take a textbook, not a blog post.

First, Let’s Get Our Terms Straight

Before we dive in, there’s an important distinction to make. Cryogenics refers broadly to the science of producing and studying very low temperatures—generally below −150°C (−238°F). This is a legitimate field with real-world applications to everything from rocket fuel to medical equipment to food preservation.

Cryonics, on the other hand, is specifically the practice of preserving a person who has died, with the hope of reviving them sometime in the future. This is where things get speculative—and controversial.

The Scientific Foundations: How Did We Get Here?

The ability to produce extremely cold temperatures emerged from a deepening understanding of thermodynamics—the science of heat, energy, and work. The key theoretical developments happened between 1842 and 1852 when a number of scientists published foundational works on the first and second laws of thermodynamics.

The practical breakthrough came in 1877, when oxygen was first cooled to the point where it became a liquid (−183°C). The term “cryogenics” itself was coined in 1894 by Kamerlingh Onnes of the University of Leiden to describe the science of producing very low temperatures.

There is a theoretical lower limit to how cold anything can get, known as absolute zero: −273.15°C or −459.67°F. At that point, molecular motion essentially stops, though reaching it is physically impossible because the energy required approaches infinity.

The logic behind biological cryopreservation flows naturally from this: if cold temperatures slow and eventually halt chemical processes, then extreme cold could theoretically preserve living tissue indefinitely. At liquid nitrogen temperatures (−196°C), the chemical and biological reactions in cells slow dramatically—and in theory, stop—which is the core premise of cryonics.

A key conceptual pillar of cryonics is that “death” is a process, not a single moment: cells and tissues undergo a continuum of injury after circulation stops, and some damage that is irreversible today might be repairable with future nanotechnology or regenerative medicine. Technically, current procedures emphasize rapid cooling after legal death, cardiopulmonary support to circulate cold fluids, and perfusion of the vasculature with concentrated cryoprotectant solutions that aim to achieve vitrification (a glass‑like solid state with minimal ice).

The Ice Crystal Problem: Why Freezing Destroys Living Tissue

Here’s where things get complicated. While the physics of cold temperatures is well understood, the biology of what happens when you freeze living tissue is where cryonics runs into serious trouble.

Freezing is often catastrophic for cells. On the scale of organs, ice formation can cause mechanical damage through expansion and can literally shatter tissue. When ice forms inside a cell, that cell almost always dies. Wide scale freezing also disrupts capillaries and vessels so that even if the cells were intact, they could not be reperfused.

The brain presents particular challenges on top of all this. Neurons—the cells that form the biological basis of everything you are—are more intricate and vulnerable than any other cell type. They consume roughly a quarter of the body’s available energy just to keep themselves alive. And it’s not just the presence and number of neurons that supports consciousness and memory, but the extraordinarily precise way in which trillions of microscopic connections are arranged between them. Those connections are how your memories and identity are stored, and they are exactly the kind of delicate structures most vulnerable to freezing damage.

Vitrification: The Workaround

To sidestep the ice crystal problem, cryonicists developed a technique called vitrification—essentially turning the body into a glass-like solid without crystallization. The process involves replacing the body’s blood with a special solution of cryoprotectant chemicals. These compounds are believed to prevent ice crystal formation and reduce tissue damage. Bodies are then stored in specialized containers filled with liquid nitrogen at −196°C.

The idea is elegant: instead of freezing, you’re essentially turning biological tissue into an amorphous, glass-like state where nothing moves and nothing degrades. On paper, it sounds like a solution. In practice, it creates a whole new set of problems.

The Toxicity Problem: Cryoprotectants as a Double-Edged Sword

The chemicals that prevent ice formation are toxic to the cells they’re meant to protect, and that toxicity increases with concentration. You need high doses to stop ice from forming, but those same doses cause their own cellular damage.

Dimethyl sulfoxide (DMSO) is the most widely used cryoprotectant, and also the most problematic. It can trigger programmed cell death, induce unwanted cellular changes, create osmotic stress, and may be a potential neurotoxin. At higher concentrations, it may even promote tumor development.

Other cryoprotectants carry their own baggage. Glycerol, long used for preserving blood cells and sperm, simply doesn’t scale up for whole-organ preservation. Ethylene glycol—yes, the same compound found in automotive antifreeze—gets metabolized into glycolic acid, which can cause metabolic acidosis, destabilizes cell membranes and may disrupt protective water layers around critical biological molecules.

Researchers are actively pursuing alternatives, including antifreeze proteins, nanotechnology-based approaches and new cryoprotectants. Each target ice formation or membrane protection through mechanisms designed to reduce the toxicity trade-off that has plagued cryopreservation for decades, though none has yet solved the problem at the scale cryonics requires.

Can We Actually Revive Frozen Bodies?

Short answer: No. Not currently, and possibly not ever.

Dennis Kowalski, president of the Cryonics Institute, has acknowledged that cryonic reanimation is “100 percent not possible today.” Shannon Tessier, a cryobiologist with Harvard University and Massachusetts General Hospital, put it more bluntly: “…the harsh reality is that current cryonic methods give patients only false hope. As they are practiced, they are both unscientific and profoundly destructive, permanently damaging cells, tissues, and organs. For now, the dream of cryonics remains frozen.”

Even setting aside current limitations, revival would require solving an extraordinary stack of problems: repairing damage from oxygen deprivation prior to freezing, neutralizing cryoprotectant toxicity, addressing thermal fracturing that occurs during the cooling process, healing tissues that didn’t vitrify successfully, and then curing whatever originally caused death. In many cases, reversing aging would also be necessary. None of these are close to solvable today.

There’s also a deeply uncomfortable practical question embedded in all of this: even if future medicine could theoretically rebuild and restore neuronal connections, how would anyone know what connections belong where? While the scanning technology is advancing fast enough that reading a well-preserved brain’s connectome at molecular resolution looks plausible within the coming decades, whether that information would be sufficient to reconstruct a person — biologically or digitally — remains genuinely unknown. Unless a complete molecular-level brain scan is performed before freezing—and stored alongside the tissue—trying to reconstruct memories and personality would be like trying to rewrite a burned book by studying the ashes.

Nanotechnology and Recent Progress

Cryonicists often point to future nanotechnology as the solution to the repair problem. The central thesis is that nearly any structure consistent with the laws of chemistry and physics could theoretically be built at the molecular level. The idea is that tiny molecular machines could one day repair cellular damage caused by cryopreservation rapidly enough to make revival possible. This remains highly speculative, but it’s not impossible in theory.

There has been some genuine progress on the warming side of the equation. Scientists have developed methods for safely thawing frozen tissues using nanoparticles—specifically, silica-coated particles containing iron oxide. Tests on human skin cells, pig heart valve segments, and pig artery sections showed no signs of harm from the rewarming process, and the tissues preserved key physical properties like elasticity. Application at the whole organ level has yet to be demonstrated.

What Actually Works Today

It’s worth noting what cryopreservation can accomplish now. Medical laboratories have long used the technique to preserve animal cells, human embryos, and simple tissues—eggs, sperm, bone marrow, stem cells, corneas, and skin—for periods of up to three decades, with successful thawing and transplantation. This is established, working medicine.

The leap from preserving a cell or an embryo to preserving a whole human body, however, is enormous. Large vitrified organs tend to develop fractures during cooling. No one has successfully preserved and revived a large mammal from a fully vitrified state.

What About The Wood Frog?

Invariably, in the discussion of cryonics someone will bring up the wood frog. In northern climates, the wood frog can seemingly freeze solid in the winter and then be hopping around with no obvious injuries in the spring. But there are several reasons why this isn’t applicable to the human science of cryonics.

First, and most obvious, the wood frog is cold-blooded, and we are not. The wood frog survives freezing at -3°C to -16°C, while cryonics stores bodies at -196°C—temperatures no frog could survive. Crucially, wood frogs, thanks to eons of evolutionary adaptation, prepare biologically before freezing—their liver actively flooding tissues with glucose cryoprotectant through a functioning circulatory system. While most metabolic activity ceases, the frog’s cells remain alive throughout; cryonics begins with legally dead patients. Even Ken Storey, the leading wood frog researcher, is a prominent cryonics skeptic. The frog demonstrates cold-blooded animals can evolve freeze tolerance—not that dead mammals can be revived from liquid nitrogen temperatures.

The Bottom Line

Cryogenics as a branch of physics is legitimate, well-established science. Cryopreservation of cells, embryos, and simple tissues works and has real medical applications. Cryonics—preserving entire human bodies or brains for future revival—is built on legitimate scientific principles but requires technological capabilities that don’t exist and may never exist. The damage from freezing is extensive, cryoprotectants are toxic, and no proven method exists for repairing the accumulated harm, let alone reversing death itself.

One cryonicist summed it up honestly: “Most people do not think it’s going to work and they might be right.”

That said, given the remarkable arc of scientific progress over the past few centuries, it’s difficult to dismiss cryonics entirely. If the next few centuries bring comparable advances, arguing that tissue repair is inherently and forever impossible becomes harder to sustain.

For those who choose cryopreservation, it’s essentially a bet—a wager that future science will solve problems we can’t currently solve, using technologies we can’t currently imagine. Whether that’s a reasonable gamble or an expensive expression of unfounded technological faith is something each person has to decide for themselves.

There’s one practical question nobody seems to have a good answer for: if the technology to reanimate frozen bodies is ever developed, who pays for it? None of the current cryonics companies appear to have a clear idea of what future revival costs might look like, or what happens if the cost of maintaining storage outlives the payments made upfront. As it stands, collecting rent from the frozen is not a well-developed business model.

One last thought, more philosophical than technical. Just because science may one day be able to reanimate a cryonically preserved human, should we?

Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT

Sources:

NIST Cryogenics: https://trc.nist.gov/cryogenics/aboutCryogenics.html

Britannica on Cryogenics: https://www.britannica.com/science/cryogenics

Britannica on Cryonics: https://www.britannica.com/science/cryonics

National Library of Medicine-PMC – Scientific Justification of Cryonics: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4733321/

National Library of Medicine-PMC – Spending Eternity in Liquid Nitrogen: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3328517/

National Library of Medicine-PMC – Ice Inhibition for Cryopreservation: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7967093/

National Library of Medicine-PMC – Cryoprotectant Toxicity: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4620521/

National Library of Medicine-PMC – Cryopreservation Overview: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7995302/

National Library of Medicine-PMC – Cryopreservation of Animals and Cryonics: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9219731/

BMC Biology – Winter is Coming: https://link.springer.com/article/10.1186/s12915-021-00976-8

Live Science on Nanowarming: https://www.livescience.com/58098-nanotech-may-revive-frozen-organs.html

MIT Technology Review on Cryonics: https://www.technologyreview.com/2022/10/14/1060951/cryonics-sci-fi-freezing-bodies/

The Conversation on Cryonics: https://theconversation.com/will-we-ever-be-able-to-bring-cryogenically-frozen-corpses-back-to-life-a-cryobiologist-explains-69500

Discover Magazine on Cryonics: https://www.discovermagazine.com/technology/will-cryonically-frozen-bodies-ever-be-brought-back-to-life

BBC Science Focus: https://www.sciencefocus.com/the-human-body/freezing-brain-back-to-life

PMC: “Cryoprotectants and Extreme Freeze Tolerance in a Subarctic Population of the Wood Frog”: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4331536/

ScienceDirect – Ice Crystal Formation: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0011224010000222

Wood frog freeze tolerance research: https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-021-98073-4

Black Soldiers on Both Sides: The Complex Story of African Americans in the Revolutionary War

By John Turley

On February 20, 2026

In History

When we picture the American Revolution, we often imagine Continental soldiers in blue coats facing off against British redcoats—but this image leaves out thousands of crucial participants. Between 5,000 and 8,000 Black men fought for the Patriot cause, while an estimated 20,000 joined the British forces. Their stories reveal the war’s profound contradictions and the complex choices Black Americans faced when white colonists fought for “liberty” while holding hundreds of thousands of people in bondage. Their participation reflected the Revolution’s central paradox: a war waged in the name of liberty within a society deeply dependent on slavery.

The irony wasn’t lost on anyone at the time. As Abigail Adams wrote in 1774, “it always appeared a most iniquitous scheme to me to fight ourselves for what we are daily robbing and plundering from those who have as good a right to freedom as we have”.

For most Black participants, the key question was which side offered the clearest path out of bondage rather than abstract allegiance to King or Congress. The tension between revolutionary rhetoric and the reality of slavery shaped every decision Black Americans made about which side to support. This dynamic meant that enslaved people frequently escaped to British forces, while free Blacks (especially in New England) were more likely, though not exclusively, to enlist with the Patriots where they already had tenuous civic footholds

The British Offer: “Liberty to Slaves”

In November 1775, Virginia’s royal governor Lord Dunmore made a move that sent shockwaves through the colonies. With his military position deteriorating and losing men under his command, Dunmore issued a proclamation offering freedom to any enslaved person who abandoned their Patriot masters and joined British forces. The proclamation declared “all indented servants, Negroes, or others (appertaining to rebels) free, that are able and willing to bear arms”.

The response was immediate. Within a month, an estimated 300 Black men had enlisted in what Dunmore called the “Royal Ethiopian Regiment,” eventually growing to about 800 men. Their uniforms were emblazoned with the provocative words “Liberty to Slaves.” The name “Ethiopian” wasn’t random—it referenced ancient associations of Ethiopia with wisdom and nobility. These soldiers saw action at the Battle of Kemp’s Landing, where—in a moment rich with symbolic meaning—one previously enslaved soldier captured his former master, militia colonel Joseph Hutchings.

Dunmore’s promise came with devastating costs. The regiment’s only other major battle was the disastrous British defeat at Great Bridge in December 1775. Far worse was the disease that ravaged the Black soldiers’ ranks. As the Virginia Gazette reported in March 1776, “the jail distemper rages with great violence on board Lord Dunmore’s fleet, particularly among the negro forces”. Disease ultimately killed more of Dunmore’s recruits than combat, as was common among all armies of the time. By 1776, Dunmore was forced to flee Virginia, taking only about 300 survivors with him.

The Patriot Response: Reluctant Acceptance

The Continental Army’s relationship with Black soldiers was complicated from the start. Black men fought at Lexington and Concord. They also distinguished themselves at Bunker Hill, where Black patriot Salem Poor performed so heroically that fourteen officers petitioned the Massachusetts legislature to recognize his “brave and gallant” service.

But in November 1775, just days after Dunmore’s Proclamation, George Washington—himself a Virginia slaveholder—banned the recruitment of all Black men. The ban didn’t last long. The British continued recruiting Black soldiers, and Washington faced a simple reality: he desperately needed troops. By early 1778, after the brutal winter at Valley Forge had decimated his forces, Washington grudgingly allowed states to enlist Black soldiers. Rhode Island led the way with legislation that promised immediate freedom to any “able-bodied negro, mulatto, or Indian man slave” who enlisted, with the state compensating slaveholders for their “property”.

The result was the 1st Rhode Island Regiment, which became known as the “Black Regiment.” Of its roughly 225 soldiers, about 140 were Black or Native American men. The regiment fought at the Battle of Rhode Island in August 1778, where they held their position against repeated British and Hessian charges—a performance that earned them, according to Major General John Sullivan, “a proper share of the day’s honors”. They went on to fight at Yorktown, where they stood alongside southern militiamen whose peacetime job had been hunting runaway slaves.

Throughout the Continental Army, Black soldiers generally served in integrated units. One French officer estimated that a quarter of Washington’s army was Black—though historians believe 10 to 15 percent is more accurate. As one historian noted, “In the rest of the Army, the few blacks who served with each company were fully integrated: They fought, drilled, marched, ate and slept alongside their white counterparts.”

Naval service—on both sides—was often more racially integrated than the army. Black men served as sailors, gunners, and marines in the Royal Navy and the Continental Navy. Maritime labor traditions had long been more flexible on race, and skill mattered more than status.

Free Blacks in northern towns could enlist much like white common citizens, sometimes motivated by pay, local patriotism, and the hope that visible service would strengthen claims to equal rights after the war. Enslaved men rarely chose independently; Patriot masters often enlisted them as substitutes to avoid service, while Loyalist masters sometimes allowed or forced them to join British units. In both cases emancipation promises were unevenly honored.

Some enslavers freed men in advance of service, others promised manumission afterward and reneged, while still others simply collected bounties or commutation while trying to retain control over Black veterans. On the British side, imperial policy also vacillated, with some officers fully supporting freedom for Black refugees tied to rebel masters, and others quietly returning runaways to Loyalist owners or exploiting them as unpaid labor.

The Promise and the Betrayal

As the war ended, the gulf between British and American treatment of their Black allies became stark. In 1783, as British forces prepared to evacuate New York, General George Washington demanded the return of all formerly enslaved people as “property” under the Treaty of Paris. British commander Sir Guy Carleton refused. Instead, he created the “Book of Negroes”—a ledger documenting about 3,000 Black Loyalists who were granted certificates of freedom and evacuated to Nova Scotia, England, Germany, and British territories.

The Book provides glimpses of individual journeys. Boston King, who had escaped slavery in South Carolina to join the British, was evacuated with his wife Violet to Nova Scotia. Their entry simply notes Violet as a “stout wench”—a reminder that even their liberators viewed them through racist lenses. Harry Washington, who had escaped from George Washington’s Mount Vernon plantation, also reached Nova Scotia and later became a leader in the resettlement to Sierra Leone.

Nova Scotia proved no paradise. Black Loyalists received inferior land—rocky and infertile compared to what white Loyalists received. They faced discrimination, exploitation, and broken promises about land grants. By 1792, nearly 1,200 Black Loyalists—about half of those in Nova Scotia—accepted an offer to resettle in Sierra Leone, where they founded Freetown.

For Black Patriots, the outcome was often worse. While some white soldiers received up to 100 acres of land and military pensions from Congress, Black soldiers who had been promised freedom often received nothing beyond freedom—and some didn’t even get that. As one historian put it, they were “dumped back into civilian society”. In June 1784, thirteen veterans of the Rhode Island Regiment had to hire a lawyer just to petition for their back pay. The state responded with an act that classified them as “paupers, who heretofore were slaves” and ordered towns to provide charity.

Lieutenant Colonel Jeremiah Olney, who commanded the Rhode Island Regiment after Christopher Greene’s death, spent years advocating for his former soldiers—fighting attempts to re-enslave them and supporting their pension claims. Some soldiers, like Jack Sisson, finally received pensions decades later in 1818—forty years after they’d enlisted, and often too late. Many died before seeing any recognition.

Even more cruelly, many Black soldiers who had been promised freedom by their masters were returned to slavery after the war. Some remained enslaved for a few years until their owners honored their promises; others remained enslaved permanently, having fought for a freedom they would never experience.

It is plausible that the widespread participation of Black soldiers subtly accelerated Northern emancipation by making slavery harder to justify ideologically, even as Southern resistance hardened.

The Larger Meaning

The American Revolution was the last time the U.S. military would be significantly integrated until President Truman’s Executive Order 9981 in 1948. In 1792, Congress passed legislation limiting military service to “free, able-bodied, white male citizens”—a restriction that would last for generations.

Yet the Revolutionary War period saw more enslaved people gain their freedom than any other time before the Civil War. Historian Gary Nash estimates that between 80,000 and 100,000 enslaved people escaped throughout the thirteen colonies during the war—not all joined the military, but the war created opportunities for flight that many seized.

As historian Edward Countryman notes, the Revolution forced Americans to confront a question that Black Americans had been raising all along: “What does the revolutionary promise of freedom and democracy mean for African Americans?” The white founders failed to answer that question satisfactorily, but the thousands of Black soldiers who fought—on both sides—had already answered it with their lives. They understood that liberty was worth fighting for, even when the people promising it had no intention of extending it to everyone.

Image generated by author using ChatGPT.

Sources

“African Americans in the Revolutionary War,” Wikipedia.
Museum of the American Revolution, “Black Patriots and Loyalists” and “Black Founders: Black Soldiers and Sailors in the Revolutionary War.”
Gilder Lehrman Institute, “African American Patriots in the Revolution.”
National Archives blog, “African Americans and the American War for Independence.”

Douglas R. Egerton, Death or Liberty: African Americans and Revolutionary America (individual stories on both Patriot and Loyalist sides).
Edward Countryman, The American Revolution.
Gary B. Nash, The Forgotten Fifth: African Americans in the Age of Revolution.
Alan Gilbert, Black Patriots and Loyalists: Fighting for Emancipation in the War for Independence.
DAR, Forgotten Patriots – African American and American Indian Patriots in the Revolutionary War: A Guide to Service, Sources, and Studies).

NYPL LibGuide, “Black Experience of the American Revolution”
American Battlefield Trust, “10 Facts: Black Patriots in the American Revolution.”
Massachusetts Historical Society, “Revolutionary Participation: African Americans in the American Revolution.”
Fraunces Tavern Museum, “Enlistment of Freed and Enslaved Blacks in the Continental Army.”
American Independence Museum, “African-American Soldiers’ Service During the Revolutionary War.”

Encyclopedia Virginia, “Lord Dunmore’s Ethiopian Regiment.”
Mount Vernon, “Dunmore’s Proclamation and Black Loyalists” and “The Ethiopian Regiment.”

American Battlefield Trust, “Lord Dunmore’s Ethiopian Regiment”
Lord Dunmore’s Proclamation (1775), in transcription with context at Gilder Lehrman, Encyclopedia Virginia, and Mount Vernon.
“Book of Negroes” (1783 evacuation ledger of Black Loyalists to Nova Scotia; digital copies and discussions via BlackPast and Dictionary of Canadian Biography).
Boston King, “Memoirs of the Life of Boston King, a Black Preacher,” Methodist Magazine (1798)
NYPL “Black Experience of the American Revolution”
1st Rhode Island Regiment, World History Encyclopedia

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