The Grumpy Doc

Grumpy opinions about everything.

Author: John Turley Page 11 of 29

Pistols at Dawn: The Rise and Fall of the Code Duello

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On October 7, 2025

In History

Not long ago I was watching a news show and one of the panelists started talking about “a duel of words” that went on in a congressional hearing. I was intrigued by the use of the word duel and I thought I’d look into the history of this strange custom.

In the age before Twitter feuds, internet trolling, and legal settlements, honor was defended with pistols at dawn. The Code Duello, a set of rules governing dueling, offers a fascinating glimpse into how ideas of masculinity, reputation, and justice shaped public and private life in the Anglo-American world from the mid-18th century through the antebellum era.

The Code Duello emerged as one of the most distinctive and controversial aspects of genteel culture in the American colonies in the early United States. This elaborate system of honor-based combat, imported from European aristocratic traditions, would profoundly shape American society between 1750 and 1860, creating a culture where personal honor often trumped legal authority and where violence became a sanctioned means of dispute resolution among the elite.

European Origins 

The Code Duello originated in Renaissance Italy and spread throughout European aristocratic circles as a means of settling disputes while maintaining social hierarchy. The practice reached the American colonies through British and Continental European settlers who brought with them deeply ingrained notions of honor, reputation, and gentlemanly conduct. Unlike random violence or brawling, dueling operated under strict protocols that emphasized courage, skill, and adherence to prescribed rituals.

The most influential codification was the Irish Code Duello of 1777, written by gentlemen of Tipperary and Galway. This twenty-six-rule system established procedures for issuing challenges, selecting weapons, determining conditions of combat, and defining acceptable outcomes. The code emphasized that dueling was a privilege of gentlemen, requiring both participants to be of equal social standing and ensuring that honor could only be satisfied through formal, regulated combat.

Colonial Implementation and Adaptation

The first recorded American duel occurred in 1621 in Plymouth, Massachusetts, between two servants, but the practice soon became the exclusive domain of elites as only “gentlemen” were considered to possess honor worth defending in this way.

The Irish Code Duello was widely adopted in America, though often with local variations. In 1838, South Carolina Governor John Lyde Wilson published an “Americanized” version, known as the Wilson Code, which further codified the practice for the southern states and attempted to increase negotiated settlements. These codes served as the de facto law of honor, even as formal legal systems struggled to suppress dueling.

The practice gained prominence among the southern plantation society’s hierarchy as dueling fit well with its emphasis on personal honor.   The ritual was highly formal: challenges were issued in writing, seconds (assistants to the duelists) attempted to mediate, the weapons chosen, and terms were carefully negotiated.

Colonial dueling adapted European practices to American circumstances. While European duels often involved swords, reflecting centuries of aristocratic martial tradition, American duelists increasingly favored pistols, which were more readily available and required less specialized training. This shift democratized dueling to some extent, as pistol proficiency was more easily acquired than swordsmanship, though the practice remained largely restricted to the upper classes.

The Revolutionary War significantly expanded dueling’s influence. Military service brought together men from different regions and social backgrounds, spreading dueling customs beyond their original geographic and social boundaries. Officers who had learned European military traditions during the conflict carried these practices into civilian life, establishing dueling as a marker of martial virtue and gentlemanly status.

The Early Republic

Following independence, dueling became increasingly institutionalized in American society.  The young republic’s political culture, characterized by intense partisan conflict and personal attacks in newspapers, created numerous opportunities for perceived slights to honor that demanded satisfaction through combat.

The most famous American duel occurred in 1804 when Aaron Burr killed Alexander Hamilton at Weehawken, New Jersey. This encounter exemplified both the power and the contradictions of dueling culture. Hamilton, despite philosophical opposition to dueling, felt compelled to accept Burr’s challenge to maintain his political viability. The duel’s outcome effectively ended Burr’s political career and demonstrated how adherence to the code could destroy the very honor it purported to defend.

Prior to becoming president, Andrew Jackson took part in at least three duels, although he is rumored to have been in many more. In his most famous duel, Jackson shot and killed a man who had insulted his wife. Jackson was also wounded in the duel and carried the bullet in his chest for the rest of his life.

Political dueling reached epidemic proportions in the antebellum period. Congressional representatives, senators, and other public figures regularly challenged opponents to combat over policy disagreements or personal insults. The practice became so common that some politicians deliberately provoked duels to enhance their reputation for courage, while others saw dueling as essential to maintaining credibility in public life.

Regional Variations and Social Dynamics

Dueling culture varied significantly across regions. The South developed the most elaborate and persistent dueling traditions, where the practice became intimately connected with concepts of honor, masculinity, and social hierarchy that would later influence Confederate military culture. Southern dueling codes often emphasized elaborate rituals and multiple exchanges of fire, reflecting a culture that viewed honor as more important than life itself.

Northern attitudes toward dueling were more ambivalent. While many Northern elites participated in dueling, the practice faced stronger opposition from religious groups, legal authorities, and emerging middle-class values that emphasized commerce over honor. Anti-dueling societies formed in several Northern cities, and some states enacted specific anti-dueling legislation, though enforcement remained inconsistent. Laws against it were passed in several colonies as early as the mid-18th century, with harsh penalties including denial of Christian burial for duelists killed in combat. Clergy denounced it as un-Christian, and reformers sought to eradicate it, but the practice persisted, especially in regions where courts were weak or social hierarchies unstable. The South, with its less institutionalized markets and governance, saw dueling as a quicker, more reliable way to settle disputes.

Western frontier regions adapted dueling to their own circumstances, often emphasizing practical marksmanship over elaborate ceremony. Frontier dueling tended to be less formal than Eastern practices, but it served similar functions in establishing social hierarchies and resolving disputes in areas where legal institutions remained weak.

Decline and Legacy

By the 1850s, dueling faced increasing opposition from legal, religious, and social reform movements. The rise of professional journalism, which could destroy reputations without resort to violence, provided alternative means of defending honor. Changing economic conditions that emphasized commercial success over martial virtue gradually undermined dueling’s social foundations.

The Civil War marked dueling’s effective end as a significant social institution. The massive scale of organized violence made individual combat seem anachronistic, while post-war society increasingly emphasized industrial progress over aristocratic honor. Though isolated duels continued into the 1870s, the practice lost its central role in American elite culture.

The Code Duello’s legacy extended far beyond its formal practice. It established patterns of violence, honor, and masculine identity that would influence American culture for generations, contributing to regional differences in attitudes toward violence and honor that persist today. The code’s emphasis on individual resolution of disputes also reflected broader American skepticism toward institutional authority, helping shape a culture that often preferred private justice to public law.

How the Code Duello Shaped Western Gunfighting Culture

The Code Duello was a script for settling personal disputes through controlled violence. Its influence waned in the East by the mid-1800s, but many of its ideas persisted, especially among military veterans, Southern transplants, and frontiersmen. As the American frontier expanded, the ethic of “settling scores” through personal combat found fertile ground in the west. What changed was the style and setting.

From Pistols at Dawn to High Noon

In the Code Duello, challenges were typically issued in writing, often with formal language and designated seconds. A duel was planned, often days in advance, and fought with flintlock pistols or swords. By contrast, gunfights in the Old West were more spontaneous, often provoked by insults, cheating, or long-standing feuds. Still, both forms were ultimately about defending personal honor in public view.

Gunfighters like Wild Bill Hickok and Wyatt Earp became mythologized partly because they embodied an honor-based culture in an environment where the law was weak or slow. In many ways, the Western gunfight was an informal, democratized version of the Code Duello, stripped of its aristocratic pretenses but keeping its emotional and symbolic core.

Myth vs. Reality

Ironically, formal duels were relatively rare in the actual Old West, and many “gunfights” were closer to ambushes or drunken brawls than ritualized combat. But dime novels, Wild West shows, and later Hollywood films reimagined them using a Code Duello-like template: two men meet face to face, in broad daylight, to resolve a conflict through a test of nerve and skill. The image of the high-noon shootout—with a silent crowd, an agreed time and place, and an implied code of fairness—is the Code Duello in cowboy boots, but it likely never existed.

The Duel That Never Was

I will end the discussion of Code Duello with what may be one of the most unusual of all American dueling stories.  

In 1842, Abraham Lincoln became embroiled in a public dispute with James Shields, the auditor of Illinois, largely over Illinois State banking policy and some satirical letters that mocked Shields.  Shields took great offense to these attacks—particularly the ones written by Lincoln under the pseudonym “Rebecca”—and formally challenged Lincoln to a duel.  According to the rules of dueling, Lincoln, as the one challenged, had the right to choose the weapons. He selected cavalry broadswords of the largest size to take advantage of his own height and reach over Shields.

The Duel’s Outcome

The duel was scheduled for September 22, 1842, on Bloody Island, a sandbar in the Mississippi River near Alton, Missouri—chosen because dueling was still legal there.  On the day of the duel, before any blood was shed, Lincoln dramatically demonstrated his advantage by slicing off a high tree branch with his broadsword, showcasing his reach and physical prowess.  After witnessing this and following subsequent negotiations by their seconds, Shields and Lincoln decided to call off the duel, resolving their differences without violence.

Legacy

Although the duel never resulted in violence, it became a notorious episode in Lincoln’s life, one he rarely spoke of later, even when asked about it.  The event is commonly cited as a reflection of Lincoln’s quick wit, physical presence, and preference for peaceful resolution when possible.  While Abraham Lincoln never actually fought a duel, he was briefly a participant in one of the more colorful near-duels of American political history.

A Final Thought

Perhaps the world would be a better place if we reinstitute some elements of Code Duello and instead of sending armies off to fight bloody battles, the national leaders settle disputes by individual combat.  I suspect there would be many more negotiated settlements.

Powdered Wigs and Politics: The Rise and Fall of America’s Most Distinguished Hair Trend

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On October 4, 2025

In History

I’ve been spending a lot of time recently researching and writing about the 250th Anniversary of the American Revolution and I keep asking myself, “What’s up with the wigs?”   Have you ever wondered why the Founding Fathers look so impossibly fancy in their portraits?  Well, you can thank a French king and a syphilis epidemic. The elaborate wigs worn by early American leaders weren’t just fashion statements—they were complex social symbols that said everything about who you were, what you could afford, and how seriously you wanted to be taken.

Where It All Started

The wig craze didn’t begin in America. It started across the Atlantic when France’s King Louis XIII went bald prematurely in the 1600s and decided to cover it up with a wig. But it was his son, Louis XIV, who really kicked things into high gear. When the Sun King started losing his hair, he commissioned elaborate wigs that became the epitome of aristocratic style. European nobility, desperate to emulate French sophistication, quickly followed suit.

The practice also had a less glamorous origin story. Syphilis was rampant in 17th-century Europe, and one of its unfortunate side effects was hair loss. Wigs conveniently covered up this telltale symptom while also hiding the sores and blemishes that came with the disease.

Europe in the 1600s and 1700s also had frequent outbreaks of lice and other parasites. Shaving one’s natural hair short and wearing a wig—which could be cleaned, boiled, or deloused more easily—became a practical solution. Powdering helped keep wigs fresh and masked odors.

By the time the fashion crossed the ocean to colonial America in the early 1700s, wigs had become standard attire for anyone with social pretensions.

Status on Your Head

In colonial America, your wig announced your place in society before you even opened your mouth. The most expensive and elaborate wigs featured long, flowing curls that cascaded past the shoulders—these full-bottomed wigs could cost the equivalent of several months’ wages for an average worker. Wealthy merchants, successful plantation owners, and colonial officials wore these statement pieces to project authority and refinement.

Professional men like doctors, lawyers, and clergy typically wore more modest styles. The “tie wig” gathered hair at the back with a ribbon, while the “bob wig” featured shorter hair that ended around the neck. These styles were practical enough for men who actually had to work, but still formal enough to command respect. Even the style of curl mattered—tight curls suggested conservatism and tradition, while looser waves indicated a more progressive outlook.

Working-class men generally couldn’t afford real wigs. Some wore simple caps or went bareheaded, while others might invest in a cheap wig made from horsehair or goat hair for special occasions. The quality difference was obvious—human hair wigs, especially those made from blonde or white hair, were luxury items that only the wealthy could obtain.

Many men who did not wear wigs but still wanted the fashionable look would grow their own hair long, pull it into a queue (pony tail), and powder it. George Washington is a good example — portraits show his natural hair powdered white, not a wig.

The Daily Reality of Wig Life

Maintaining these hairpieces was no joke. Owners had to powder their wigs regularly with starch powder, often scented with lavender or orange, to achieve that distinctive white or gray color that signaled refinement. The powder got everywhere, which is why men often wore special dressing gowns during the powdering process.

Wigs required regular cleaning and restyling by professionals called peruke makers or wigmakers. These craftsmen commanded good money in colonial cities, advertising their services alongside other luxury trades. The hot, humid summers in places like Virginia and South Carolina made wig-wearing particularly miserable, but fashion demanded sacrifice.

The Revolutionary Shift

By the time of the American Revolution, attitudes toward wigs were already changing. The shift happened for several interconnected reasons, and it reflected broader transformations in American society.

First, the Revolutionary War itself promoted practical thinking. Military officers found elaborate wigs impractical in the field, and the democratic ideals of the Revolution made aristocratic European fashions seem pretentious. Many younger revolutionaries, including Thomas Jefferson, stopped wearing wigs as a political statement against Old World affectation.

A young Jefferson with a wig

Second, France—the original source of wig fashion—underwent its own revolution in 1789. As French revolutionaries literally beheaded the aristocracy, powdered wigs became associated with the despised nobility. What had once symbolized sophistication now suggested tyranny and excess.

In Great Britain, Parliament introduced a tax on hair powder as part of Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger’s revenue-raising measures.  The law required anyone who used hair powder to purchase an annual certificate costing one guinea (a little over $200 in today’s money).  This contributed to the growing sense that wigs were an unnecessary extravagance. Meanwhile, changing ideals of masculinity emphasized natural simplicity over artificial ornamentation.

By the early 1800s, the wig had largely disappeared from everyday American life. A new generation of leaders, including Andrew Jackson, proudly displayed their natural hair. The transition happened remarkably quickly—within a single generation, wigs went from essential to absurd. By the 1820s, anyone still wearing a powdered wig looked hopelessly outdated, clinging to a world that no longer existed.

The Legacy

Today, elaborate wigs survive primarily in British courtrooms, where some judges still wear them in formal proceedings—a deliberate echo of legal tradition. The powdered wigs of the Founding Fathers remain iconic, instantly recognizable symbols of early American history, even though the men who wore them were already abandoning the fashion by the time they built the new nation.

Tech Savvy Seniors, Part 1: Leveraging Technology to Improve Health in Older Adults

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On October 1, 2025

In Medicine, Uncategorized

Introduction

Advances in technology have created significant opportunities to improve healthcare in general and for senior citizens in specific. Digital health technologies, including telehealth, smartphone applications, and wearable devices, have become increasingly prevalent, particularly since the COVID-19 pandemic. These technologies offer older adults opportunities to overcome barriers to healthcare access and enhance their ability to manage health conditions independently.  In this article we will present a general overview of healthcare technology as it applies to senior citizens. We will also take a brief look at a few of the apps available. In Part 2 we’ll look at specific wearable devices including smartphones and smart watches as well as dedicated health monitoring equipment.

Digital Health Adoption and Benefits

Many older adults are adopting digital health technologies to maintain communication with healthcare providers and to manage their health conditions. Telehealth, for instance, has become a vital tool, allowing older adults to consult with healthcare professionals remotely, thus reducing the need for travel and exposure to potential health risks. Additionally, smartphone apps and wearable devices enable continuous monitoring of vital signs and provide reminders for medication, contributing to better disease management.

Too Old to Use?

Despite the benefits, ageism remains a barrier to the widespread adoption of digital health technologies for some older adults. Many healthcare professionals hold outdated beliefs that older adults are unable or unwilling to use these technologies, ignoring the fact that many of their patients are part of the generation that pioneered the digital revolution. This has, on occasion, led to their exclusion from health services and clinical trials that utilize digital health, creating a “digital health divide”. Overcoming these biases is crucial to ensuring that older adults can fully benefit from technological advancements in healthcare.

Enhancing Memory and Scoializatin

Regular use of the internet and digital platforms can improve cognitive functioning and memory skills, potentially reducing the risk of dementia. Engaging in online activities such as learning a new language, learning new technological skills, or even online puzzles can keep the brain active and sharp.  Also, technology can help mitigate social isolation—a common issue among older adults—facilitating communication with family and friends and enabling participation in online communities and interest groups.

Promoting Independence and Accessibility

Technology has significantly enhanced the independence of older adults, particularly those with mobility or vision challenges. Online shopping and ride-sharing apps allow older adults to manage daily tasks without relying on others. Voice-activated technologies and personal monitoring devices provide additional support, ensuring safety and independence at home.

Challenges and Future Directions

Many older adults lack access to reliable internet and user-friendly technological devices. Many areas of the country still lack access to reliable broadband Internet.

While many seniors have experience with technology, there are many others who lack sufficient familiarity to utilize it successfully. Older adults often have lower levels of self-confidence or knowledge related to using digital health tools. This can be exacerbated by physical and mental deficits, such as poor vision, hearing loss, and cognitive impairments, which make using digital tools challenging.

Some older adults may not perceive digital health technologies as useful or trustworthy. Concerns about privacy and security, as well as a lack of information about the benefits of e-health, can deter engagement.

Barriers are more pronounced among older adults from socioeconomically disadvantaged groups. These groups often face additional challenges in accessing and using digital health technologies due to cost or regional availability. Many have significant trust issues that inhibit their use of new methods.

Addressing these barriers requires targeted efforts to improve digital literacy, provide accessible and affordable technology, and to challenge ageist perceptions within the healthcare system and to increase the level of trust.

Useful Apps

There are a growing number of apps designed to help older adults manage their healthcare more effectively. Here is a small sample of some common apps that can be particularly useful:

MediSafe: designed for medication management, allowing users to set up medication schedules and receive reminders. It also provides warnings about potential drug interactions and allows family members to monitor medication adherence.

GoodRx: helps users compare drug prices at different pharmacies and provides coupons to help reduce prescription costs, making it easier to manage expenses related to chronic conditions.

Abridge: records conversations during doctor’s appointments, highlights medical terms, and provides definitions, helping users better understand and recall medical advice.

Pill Monitor: helps users schedule medication reminders and keep track of their medication intake, which can be shared with healthcare providers.

 ShopWell: assists with dietary management by helping users create nutritious shopping lists tailored to their health needs, promoting healthy eating habits.

Mychart: provides access to personal health records and allows for viewing of test results, scheduling appointments and communicating with healthcare providers.

Silversneakers Go: promotes physical fitness by providing workout programs tailored for older adults, managing class schedules, and tracking progress.

These are just a few or the many apps designed to be user-friendly and cater to the specific needs of seniors, helping them maintain their health and independence.

Conclusion

The adoption of digital health technologies by older adults holds great promise for improving healthcare outcomes, reducing costs and enhancing quality of life. By addressing ageism and ensuring accessibility, we can bridge the digital health divide and support older adults in achieving healthier, more independent lives. As technology continues to evolve, it will play an increasingly vital role in geriatric care and the promotion of healthy aging.  In Part 2 we will get into greater detail about what’s available, what works, and what’s hype.

Divine Providence and Patriotism

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On September 26, 2025

In History

Religion in the Ranks of the Continental Army

The Continental Army that fought for American independence from 1775 to 1783 represented a cross-section of colonial religious life, bringing together men from diverse faith traditions under a common cause. The religious faith of both enlisted soldiers and officers reflected the broader religious landscape of colonial America, and their regional differences contributed to a complex tapestry of faith within the ranks.

The Continental Army drew from a population where religious diversity was already well-established, particularly when compared to European armies of the same period. Protestant denominations were the majority within the ranks, reflecting the colonial religious demographics.

The American Revolution was not only a political and military struggle but also a deeply religious experience for many Continental Army soldiers. Their faith shaped how they interpreted the war, coped with its hardships, and interacted with comrades from diverse backgrounds.

Enlisted soldiers often relied on providentialism, the belief that God directly intervened in daily life, to make sense of battlefield chaos and suffering. Diaries and letters reveal troops attributing survival in skirmishes, unexpected weather shifts, and even mundane events to divine will. For example, many saw the Continental Army’s unlikely battlefield victories as evidence of God’s favor toward their cause.

Diversity in the Ranks

Congregationalists from New England formed a significant portion of the army, bringing with them the Puritan theological tradition that emphasized divine providence and moral responsibility.  Ministers in New England frequently preached that resistance to tyranny was a Christian duty and many soldiers viewed themselves as fighting against tyranny, much as their ancestors had fled religious persecution.

Presbyterian soldiers, many of Scots-Irish descent, comprised a substantial group. Concentrated heavily in the Middle Colonies and frontier areas, they tended toward evangelical and Presbyterian influences, regardless of their home colony . The challenging conditions of frontier life had already created a more individualistic and emotionally intense form of Christianity that adapted well to military service. These soldiers often brought a fatalistic acceptance of divine will combined with fierce determination.

Baptist and Methodist soldiers, though fewer in number, represented growing evangelical movements that would later transform American Christianity. German Reformed and Lutheran soldiers from Pennsylvania added to the religious diversity, while smaller numbers of Catholics, particularly from Maryland and Pennsylvania, served despite facing legal restrictions in many colonies. Even a few Jewish soldiers joined the cause, though their numbers were minimal given the tiny Jewish population in colonial America. The religious pluralism in regiments from the Middle Colonies created a more tolerant atmosphere that foreshadowed the religious diversity of the new nation.  

Quakers were generally pacifists and avoided military service, however some “Free Quakers” broke from their tradition and joined the Patriot cause. Other pacifist religious groups, such as Mennonites, abstained from combat but occasionally provided non-combatant support.

Anglicans, ironically fighting against their own church’s mother country, served in significant numbers, particularly from the Southern colonies where the Church of England frequently had been established as a state supported church. 

While religious diversity was generally a unifying force in the Continental Army, there were some instances of religious tension and while they were relatively limited, they were not entirely absent. One significant example occurred early in the war in November 1775, when some American troops planned to burn an effigy of the Pope on Guy Fawkes Day (also known as Pope’s Day in New England).  General Washington strongly condemned this anti-Catholic action, denouncing it as indecent and lacking common sense.

Washington actively tried to prevent sectarianism from undermining unity in the ranks, whether between Protestants and Catholics or among different Protestant denominations. The overall trend was towards religious tolerance and unity, with religious diversity ultimately contributing positively to the army’s cohesion and morale.

Officer Corps and Religious Leadership

The officer corps of the Continental Army reflected a somewhat different religious profile than the enlisted ranks. Many officers came from the colonial elite and were often Anglican or belonged to more established denominations. However, the Revolution’s anti-episcopal sentiment led many Anglican officers to distance themselves from their church’s political connections while maintaining their basic Christian beliefs.  The relationship between the soldiers and the established Church of England became increasingly strained as the Revolution progressed.

George Washington himself exemplified this complex relationship with religion. Though nominally Anglican, Washington never wrote about his personal faith.  He was likely influenced by Deist philosophy, then popular among Enlightenment thinkers including Jefferson and possibly Franklin. Deism holds that reason and observation of the natural world are sufficient to determine the existence of a Creator, but that this Creator does not intervene in the universe after its creation.

Washington regularly invoked divine providence in his correspondence and orders, understanding the importance of religious sentiment in maintaining morale, even while his personal beliefs remained ambiguous. His famous directive that “the blessing and protection of Heaven are at all times necessary but especially so in times of public distress and danger” reflected his understanding of religion’s role in military leadership.

Other prominent officers brought their own religious convictions to their leadership. Nathanael Greene, the Southern theater commander, was raised as a Quaker but was expelled from the Society of Friends for his military service. Rev. Peter Muhlenberg, a Lutheran minister, left the pulpit and joined the Continental Army, rising to the rank of Major General.  The Marquis de Lafayette, though Catholic, adapted to the predominantly Protestant environment of the American officer corps.

Officers, including Washington, viewed religion as a tool for discipline and unity. Washington mandated Sunday worship. He also appointed chaplains to every brigade, insisting they foster “obedience and subordination”.

 Continental Army Chaplain Service

Recognizing the importance of religion to morale and discipline, the Continental Congress authorized the appointment of chaplains to serve with the army. The chaplain system evolved throughout the war, beginning with regimental chaplains and eventually expanding to include brigade and division chaplains for larger organizational units.

Continental Army chaplains faced unique challenges. Unlike European armies with established state churches, American chaplains served religiously diverse units. They needed to provide spiritual comfort to soldiers from different denominational backgrounds while avoiding sectarian conflicts that could undermine unit cohesion. Most chaplains were Protestant ministers, reflecting the army’s composition, but they were expected to serve all soldiers regardless of specific denominational affiliation.

The duties of Continental Army chaplains extended beyond conducting religious services. They often served as informal counselors, helped soldiers write letters home, provided basic education to illiterate soldiers, and sometimes even served as medical assistants. Their moral authority made them valuable in maintaining discipline, and many commanders relied on chaplains to address problems of desertion, drunkenness, and other behavioral issues.

Chaplains also played important roles in significant military events. They conducted prayers before major battles and led thanksgiving services after victories. They provided comfort to the dying and services for the dead.

The British recognized the importance of chaplains to the Continental Army and in some cases offered rewards for their capture.

The famous painting of “The Prayer at Valley Forge” with its image of Washington praying alone in the snow, whether historically accurate or not, represents the type of spiritual leadership chaplains were expected to provide during the army’s darkest moments.

Conclusion Religion in the Continental Army reflected both the differing and the common aspects of colonial American faith. While denominational variations existed, most soldiers shared basic Christian beliefs that provided comfort during hardship and meaning to their sacrifice. The army’s religious diversity foreshadowed the religious pluralism that would characterize the new American nation, while the chaplain service established precedents for military religious support that continue today. The Revolution’s success owed much to the spiritual resources that sustained these soldiers through eight years of difficult warfare, demonstrating religion’s crucial role in the founding of the American republic.

Always Faithful: A Brief History of the Marine Corps Motto

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On September 25, 2025

In History

When I started training as a Marine more than 50 years ago one of the first things we were taught was the call and response “Semper Fi” followed quickly by “Do or Die”.  But to Marines, Semper Fi, Semper Fidelis—Always Faithful—is more than just a motto. It becomes a personal belief system, a statement of individual integrity and a way of life.  Faithful to country, faithful to the Corps, faithful to fellow Marines, faithful to duty.  It reflects your faith in the Marine Corps and your fellow Marines.

How did Marines come to adopt this distinctly non martial motto?  Other more military sounding mottos and nicknames come to mind: “Devil Dogs”, “First to Fight”, and “Leathernecks”.  But Semper Fidelis has become the way Marines see themselves, so much so that their greeting to one another is “Semper Fi”.  The same ethos is embodied in an unofficial Marine Corps motto, “No Man Left Behind”.

But what is the origin of this motto that seems to sum up the entire philosophy of the Marine Corps?

The United States Marine Corps is known for its discipline, dedication, and fierce loyalty, qualities that are symbolized by Semper Fidelis. Translated from Latin, the phrase means “Always Faithful.” But like many traditions within the military, the motto is rooted in a rich history that stretches back hundreds of years.

The Marine Corps was established in 1775 as the Continental Marines, but the famous motto did not appear until more than a century later. By the early 19th century, several mottos had been associated with the Marines, including “Fortitudine” (With Fortitude) and “By Sea and by Land.” While these phrases captured elements of the Marines’ mission, they lacked the enduring emotional impact that would ultimately come with Semper Fidelis.

It was in 1883 that the motto was formally adopted under the leadership of the 8th Commandant, Colonel Charles McCawley. Colonel McCawley likely chose that motto because it embodies the values of loyalty, faithfulness and dedication that he believed should define every Marine.  Unfortunately, we will never know his exact reason for choosing this specific motto because he did not leave any documentation about his thought process.  Regardless, from that point on, the motto became inseparable from the identity of the Corps.

The phrase “Semper Fidelis” has much older origins than its Marine Corps adoption. It’s believed to have originated from phrases used by senators in ancient Rome, with the earliest recorded use as a motto dating back to the French town of Abbeville in 1369. The phrase has been used by various European families since the 16th century, and possibly as early as the 13th century.

The earliest recorded military use was by the Duke of Beaufort’s Regiment of Foot, raised in southwestern England in 1685. The motto also has connections to Irish, Scottish, and English nobility, as well as 17th-century European military units, some of whose members may have emigrated to American colonies in the 1690s

The choice of the Latin phrase by Colonel McCawley was likely deliberate. Latin carries with it a sense of permanence and tradition, and its concise wording communicated volumes in only two words. “Always Faithful” perfectly captured the bond that must exist between Marines and the responsibilities they shoulder. Marines are expected to remain faithful to the mission, to their comrades in arms, and to the United States, regardless of the personal cost. It is this idea of unshakable fidelity that has come to define what it means to wear the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor.

Since its adoption, Semper Fidelis has carried Marines through every conflict the United States has faced. From the battlefields of World War I, where Marines earned the name “Devil Dogs,” to the grueling island campaigns of the Pacific in World War II, to the frozen battle fields of Korea, to the steaming jungles of Vietnam, Marines have demonstrated again and again what it means to be “Always Faithful.” In modern times, whether in Iraq, Afghanistan, or in humanitarian missions across the globe, this motto continues to serve as a reminder of the Corps’ unwavering commitment.

The phrase has also influenced the broader culture of the Marines, inspiring the title of the official Marine Corps march, “Semper Fidelis,” composed by John Philip Sousa in 1888, which remains a powerful symbol of pride and esprit de corps.

The motto’s meaning extends beyond active service. Marines pride themselves on being “once a Marine, always a Marine,” and Semper Fidelis reflects that lifelong bond. Even after leaving the uniform behind, Marines carry that sense of loyalty into civilian life, honoring the values and traditions of their service. For many, it becomes a central guiding principle throughout their lives.  Marine veterans always say “I was a Marine”.

In the end, the motto “Semper Fidelis” is far more than a catchy phrase. It is both a promise and a challenge—a pledge of unwavering loyalty and a challenge to live up to the highest standards of duty, honor, and fidelity. When Marines declare “Semper Fi,” they acknowledge not only their devotion to the Marine Corps, but also the unbreakable loyalty that binds them together as brothers and sisters in arms.

The celebration of the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence is coming up next year on July 4th. But what about the events leading up to this? What about the men and women who helped make this happen? There are events coming up to commemorate the 250th anniversary of the founding of the Continental Navy and the Continental Marines in 1775. We will be holding commemorative celebrations here in West Virginia and there will be a national event in Philadelphia in October of this year.

When Evidence Isn’t Enough: The Crisis of Science in Public Life

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On September 23, 2025

In Commentary, Politics

While I would never call myself a scientist, as a physician my whole professional life is built on the belief in and the trust of science. I am distressed that so many people have chosen to disregard trust in science in favor of misinformation.

Throughout history, scientific discovery has been humanity’s most reliable guide to progress. From the germ theory of disease to space exploration, science has reshaped how we live and what we believe possible. Yet in recent years, the very foundation of this methodical pursuit—evidence, observation, and experimentation—has come under sustained political, cultural, and economic attack. This struggle is often described as “the war on science,” a phrase that captures how debates once rooted in policy have shifted into battles over truth itself.

The numbers tell a stark story. The National Science Foundation has terminated roughly 1,040 grants that would have awarded $739 million to researchers and has awarded only 52 undergraduate research grants in 2025, compared to about 200 annually since 2015. The proposed cuts are staggering. Trump will request a $4 billion budget for the NSF in fiscal year 2026, a 55% reduction from what Congress appropriated for 2025.

At the heart of the conflict lies mistrust. Science requires patience since answers evolve as new data emerge. But in a world driven by instant communication and ideological certainties, that evolving nature is often cast as contradiction or weakness. Critics dismiss changing conclusions not as hallmarks of rigorous inquiry, but as evidence of unreliability. The result is a dangerous fracture; science depends on trust in evidence, while many segments of society increasingly place trust in ideology or anecdote or even outright falsehoods.

Climate change is one of the most visible fronts in this battle. Virtually every major scientific body worldwide affirms that human activities are driving global warming. Yet climate scientists are routinely accused of bias or conspiracy, their data questioned, and their motives impugned. What is often overlooked in the controversy is not the complexity of climate systems—scientists have long acknowledged uncertainties—but the political and economic interests threatened by the solutions science prescribes.  When climate scientists publish evidence of global warming, their research doesn’t just describe weather patterns—it challenges powerful industries built on fossil fuels.

Public health provides another stark example. During the COVID-19 pandemic, scientific guidance became subject to fierce political polarization. Masking policies, vaccine safety, and even simple social distancing rules morphed into partisan symbols rather than matters of medical evidence. Scientists found themselves vilified, their professional debates distorted into talking points. The losers in this exchange were not the scientists themselves but the broader public, denied clear trust in institutions that are dedicated to safeguarding health.

Underlying these conflicts are powerful currents. Some industries resist regulation by casting doubt on findings that threaten profit. Certain political movements thrive on skepticism of expertise, channeling populist distrust of “elites” toward scientists. And in the swirl of social media, misinformation spreads more rapidly than peer-reviewed studies, eroding the influence of evidence before consensus can take hold.

What makes this particularly concerning is the timing. America’s main scientific and technological rivals are rising fast. In terms of federal Research and Development funding as a percentage of GDP, U.S. investment has dropped for decades, and the lead that the U.S. enjoyed over China’s R&D expenditure has largely been erased.

While the war on science is often treated as a distinctly modern dilemma, born of political polarization, mass media, and cultural distrust of expertise, its roots stretch back centuries. Galileo was silenced for challenging religious dogma. Early physicians were scorned when they argued that invisible germs, not miasmas or curses, caused disease.  During the Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries, thinkers faced their own version of this struggle—a battle between dogma and reason, authority and evidence, tradition and discovery.   In every case, vested interests—whether theological, cultural, or economic—feared the disruption that scientific truth carried. Understanding those earlier conflicts provides valuable context for our challenges today.

The stakes today, however, feel higher. Our era’s challenges—climate change, pandemics, artificial intelligence, genetic engineering—demand unprecedented reliance on scientific understanding. To wage war on science is, in effect, to wage war on our own best chance for survival and responsible progress. If truth becomes negotiable, then evidence loses meaning, and with it, the possibility of reasoned self-government. That is why the war on science cannot be dismissed as a technical squabble—it is a philosophical contest echoing the Enlightenment battles that shaped modern civilization.

Ultimately, the struggle is less about data than about values. Do we commit to curiosity, openness, and the willingness to change our minds? Or do we cling to certainties that soothe but endanger us in the end? The war on science will not be won by scientists alone. It can only be resolved if society restores trust in evidence as the most reliable compass we have—however unsettling the direction it may point.  There may be alternative opinions but there are no alternative facts.

Frédéric Bazille: The Impressionist Who Never Saw Impressionism

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On September 18, 2025

In Art, History

I like to think of my research and my writing as being eclectic, although sometimes I have to admit they may be better described as unfocused. This post may be an example of one of those episodes.  Recently I was looking through a magazine and saw an ad with an illustration that was obviously based on Monet’s Garden in Giverny. It sent me thinking about a series of lectures I had watched on French Impressionists and that got me thinking about Frédéric Bazille, an artist I have always found fascinating. I decided to spend a little time looking into him. So, I completely forgot about the project I was working on and started on this one. That may be why I have so many unfinished articles and random files of unrelated research.

In French Impressionism there are names that stand in the forefront— Monet, Renoir, Degas, Manet — and then there are names that hover just behind them. Frédéric Bazille is one of those in the shadows. He was part of the same circle, painted with the same daring brush, and showed the same fascination with light and color. Yet his life ended before Impressionism even had a name. Bazille was killed in the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, at just twenty-eight years old. His death robbed the movement of both a gifted painter and a generous friend who helped shape its history.

A Wealthy Outsider

Bazille was born in Montpellier in 1841, the son of a prosperous Protestant family. Unlike Monet and Renoir, who often lived in dire poverty, Bazille never worried about how to pay for paints or rent. That freedom made him unusual in Parisian art circles.

Bazille became interested in painting after seeing works by Eugène Delacroix, but his family insisted he also study medicine to ensure financial independence. By 1859, he had begun taking drawing and painting classes at the Musée Fabre in Montpellier with local sculptors Joseph and Auguste Baussa.

In 1862, Bazille moved to Paris ostensibly to continue his medical studies, but he also enrolled as a painting student in Charles Gleyre’s studio. There he met three fellow students who would become close friends and collaborators: Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, and Alfred Sisley. He soon became part of a group of artists and writers that also included Édouard Manet, and Émile Zola.  After failing his medical exam (perhaps intentionally) in 1864, Bazille began painting full-time.

Bazille used his money to help everyone in his circle. He rented large studios in Paris, where friends who couldn’t afford space of their own painted and slept. He bought their finished canvases when no one else would. To Manet, Renoir, Monet, and Sisley, Bazille was not just a colleague but a lifeline. Without him, some of the paintings we now consider cornerstones of Impressionism might never have been finished.

Experiments With Light

What makes Bazille more than a wealthy patron is his own work as an artist. He was fascinated by how sunlight transformed color and how outdoor settings could frame the human figure. Long before the Impressionists formally broke with mainstream French art, Bazille was exploring these themes.  In The Pink Dress (1864), he painted his cousin on a terrace overlooking the countryside, her figure half-lost in shadow, half-caught by light.  In Family Reunion (1867), he executed a technically difficult group portrait outside, with natural sunlight revealing the folds of dresses and the textures of grass. In The Studio on the Rue de la Condamine (1870), Bazille turned his brush on his own circle, capturing Manet, Monet, Renoir, and Zola in a collective portrait of the avant-garde.

His style was less free than Monet’s and more deliberate than Renoir’s, but the suggestion of Impressionism is unmistakable. He was bridging the academic precision of his training with the looser brushwork of the new school.

Bazille exhibited at the Salon in Paris in 1866 and 1868.  The Salon was the most prestigious and conservative art exhibition in France. These official exhibitions became increasingly controversial as they repeatedly rejected innovative artists like the Impressionists, leading to the creation of alternative exhibitions such as the famous Salon des Refusés in 1863 and independent Impressionist exhibitions starting in 1874.

A Call to War

When France declared war on Prussia in 1870, Bazille enlisted in the army. He could easily have avoided service — his family connections, his money, and his medical background all gave him options. But he joined the Zouave, an elite infantry regiment known for its colorful uniforms and reckless bravery.

On November 28, 1870, at the Battle of Beaune-la-Rolande, Bazille’s commanding officer was struck down. Bazille stepped forward to lead the attack. Within minutes, he too was hit and killed. He never saw the armistice. He never saw the first Impressionist exhibition in 1874. He never saw his friends vindicated by history.

The Spirit of Impressionism

Bazille left fewer than sixty known canvases. That small number alone ensures his reputation will never match Monet’s or Renoir’s. Yet the works he did leave offer glimpses of a painter who might have been one of the movement’s greats. He had both vision and means — a rare combination in the avant-garde world.

Without him, the Impressionists lost not only a friend but also a stabilizing force. Bazille’s studios had been safe havens, his purchases financial lifelines, his company a source of encouragement. Monet and Renoir were devastated by his death, and for years afterward, they spoke of him with unslacking grief.

Art historians often speculate about what role he might have played had he lived. Perhaps he would have anchored Impressionism more firmly in the Paris art establishment, or perhaps his money and position would have shielded his friends from years of ridicule. We can only guess.

Remembering Bazille

Today, Bazille’s paintings hang in the Musée d’Orsay in Paris and the Musée Fabre in Montpellier and in the United States at The National Gallery of Art, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Art Institute of Chicago.  To see them is to feel both promise and loss. His canvases are alive with sunlight and color, and they hint at the career that never was.

Bazille reminds us that history is shaped not just by the titans who endure but also by the voices cut short. Impressionism survived and flourished without him, but it was poorer for his absence. In a way, every bright patch of sunlight in Monet’s gardens or flashing dress in Renoir’s dance halls carries a trace of the young man who painted light before the movement even had a name — and who never lived to see it shine.

Bread and Circuses: From Ancient Rome to Modern America

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On September 16, 2025

In Commentary, History, Politics

“Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously desires for just two things: bread and circuses.”

Nearly 2,000 years ago, Roman satirist Juvenal penned one of history’s most enduring political observations: “Two things only the people anxiously desire — bread and circuses.” Writing around 100 CE in his Satire X, Juvenal wasn’t celebrating this phenomenon—he was lamenting it. The poet watched as Roman citizens traded their political engagement for free grain and spectacular entertainment, becoming passive spectators rather than active participants in their democracy. The phrase has endured for nearly two millennia as shorthand for a troubling political dynamic: entertainment and consumption replacing civic engagement and accountability.

The Roman Warning

Juvenal’s critique came at a pivotal moment in Roman history. The republic had collapsed, and emperors like Augustus had systematically dismantled democratic institutions. Rather than revolt, Roman citizens seemed content as long as the government provided basic sustenance (the grain dole called annona) and elaborate spectacles at venues like the Colosseum. Political participation withered as people focused on immediate pleasures rather than long-term civic responsibilities.

The strategy worked brilliantly for Roman rulers. Keep the masses fed and entertained, and they won’t question your authority or demand meaningful representation. It was political control through distraction—a form of soft authoritarianism that maintained order without overt oppression.  The policy was effective in the short term—peace in the streets and loyalty to the emperors—but disastrous over time. Rome’s population became disengaged from politics, while real power consolidated in the hands of a few.

Modern American Parallels

Fast-forward to contemporary America, and Juvenal’s observation feels uncomfortably relevant. While we don’t have gladiatorial games, we do have our own version of “circuses”—professional sports, reality TV, social media feeds, and celebrity culture that dominate public attention. These aren’t inherently problematic, but they become concerning when they crowd out civic engagement.

Our modern “bread” takes various forms: government assistance programs, subsidies, and economic policies designed to maintain consumer spending. We are saturated with cheap goods, instant delivery services, and mass consumerism. For many, economic struggles are temporarily softened by accessible consumption, from fast food to online shopping. Yet material comfort often masks deeper inequalities and systemic challenges—wage stagnation, healthcare costs, and mounting national debt. These programs often serve legitimate purposes, but they can also function as political tools to maintain public satisfaction and suppress dissent.

Consider how political campaigns increasingly focus on entertainment value rather than substantive policy debates. Politicians hire social media managers and appear on talk shows, understanding that capturing attention often matters more than presenting coherent governance plans. Meanwhile, voter turnout for local elections—where citizens have the most direct impact—remains dismally low.

The Distraction Economy

Perhaps most striking is how our information landscape mirrors Roman spectacles. We’re bombarded with sensational news, viral content, and manufactured controversies that generate strong emotional reactions but little productive action. Complex policy issues get reduced to soundbites and memes, making genuine democratic deliberation increasingly difficult.

Social media algorithms are specifically optimized for engagement, not enlightenment. They feed us content designed to provoke reactions—anger, outrage, schadenfreude—rather than encourage thoughtful consideration of difficult issues. This creates a population that feels politically engaged through constant consumption of political content while remaining largely passive in actual civic participation.

The danger of “bread and circuses” in modern America lies in apathy. When civic participation declines, voter turnout falls, and policy debates get reduced to simplistic slogans, elites face less scrutiny. The result is a weakened democracy, vulnerable to manipulation and short-term thinking.

Breaking the Cycle

Juvenal’s warning doesn’t mean we should abandon entertainment or social programs. Rather, it suggests we need intentional balance. Democratic societies thrive when citizens remain actively engaged in governance beyond just voting every few years.

This means staying informed about local issues, attending town halls, contacting representatives, and participating in community organizations. It means choosing substance over spectacle and long-term thinking over immediate gratification.

The Roman Republic fell partly because its citizens stopped paying attention to governance. Juvenal’s “bread and circuses” reminds us that democracy requires constant vigilance—and that comfortable distraction can be freedom’s most seductive enemy.

The Communist Dream vs. Stalinist Reality: A Tale of Two Visions

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On September 10, 2025

In History, Politics

Recently, I’ve been looking at various political philosophies. I’ve written about fascism, totalitarianism, authoritarianism, autocracy and kleptocracy. In this post I’m going to look at theoretical communism versus the reality of Stalinist communism, and I would be remiss if I didn’t at least briefly mention oligarchy as currently practiced in Russia.

The gap between Karl Marx’s theoretical vision of communism and its implementation under Joseph Stalin’s leadership in the Soviet Union represents one of history’s most significant divergences between ideological theory and political practice. While both claimed the same ultimate goal—a classless, stateless society—their approaches and outcomes differed in fundamental ways that continue to shape our world today, one a workers’ utopia and the other a brutal dictatorship.

The Marxist Vision

Marx envisioned communism as the natural culmination of historical progress, emerging from the inherent conflicts within capitalism. In his theoretical framework, the working class (proletariat) would eventually overthrow the capitalist system through revolution, leading to a transitional socialist phase before achieving true communism. This final stage would be characterized by the absence of social classes, private property, private ownership of the means of production, and ultimately, the state itself.

Central to Marx’s concept was the idea that communism would emerge from highly developed capitalist societies where industrial production had reached its peak. He believed that the abundance created by advanced capitalism would make scarcity obsolete, allowing society to operate according to the principle “from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” The state, having served its purpose as an instrument of class rule, would simply “wither away” as class distinctions disappeared.

Marx also emphasized that the transition to communism would be an international phenomenon. He argued that capitalism was inherently global, and therefore its replacement would necessarily be worldwide. The famous rallying cry “Workers of the world, unite!” reflected this internationalist perspective, suggesting that communist revolution would spread across national boundaries as workers recognized their common interests.

The Stalinist Implementation

Vladimir Lenin took firm control of Russia following the revolution in 1917 and oversaw creation of a state that was characterized by centralization, suppression of opposition parties, and the establishment of the Cheka (secret police) to enforce party rule. Economically, Lenin’s government shifted from War Communism (state control of production during the civil war) to the New Economic Policy (NEP) in 1921, which allowed limited private trade and small-scale capitalism to stabilize the economy. It formally became the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics in 1922. This period provided the groundwork for the highly centralized, totalitarian state under Stalin that followed Lenin’s death in 1924.

Stalin’s approach to building communism in the Soviet Union diverged sharply from Marx’s theoretical blueprint. Rather than emerging from advanced capitalism, Stalin attempted to construct socialism in a largely agricultural society that had barely begun industrialization. This fundamental difference in starting conditions shaped every aspect of the Soviet experiment.

Instead of the gradual withering away of the state, Stalin presided over an unprecedented expansion of state power. The Soviet government under his leadership controlled virtually every aspect of economic and social life, from industrial production to agricultural collectivization to cultural expression. The state became not a temporary tool for managing the transition to communism, but a permanent and increasingly powerful institution that dominated all aspects of society.  By the early 1930s, Joseph Stalin had centralized all power in his own hands, sidelining collective decision-making bodies like the Politburo or Soviets.

Marx emphasized rule by the proletariat giving power to all people equally.  Stalin fostered a cult of personality through relentless propaganda.  His image appeared on posters, statues, and in schools.  History books were rewritten to credit him for Soviet successes—often erasing Lenin, Trotsky, or others.  He was referred to as the “Father of Nations,” “Brilliant Genius,” and “Great Leader.”  Loyalty to Stalin became more important than loyalty to the Communist Party or its ideals.  The government and the economy operated at his personal direction, enforced by the secret police, censorship, executions, and mass purges of dissidents.

Stalin implemented a command economy, in which the government or central authority makes all major decisions about production, investment, pricing, and the allocation of resources, rather than leaving those choices to market forces. In this system, planners typically set production targets, control industries, and determine what goods and services will be available, often with the goal of achieving social or political objectives such as central control and rapid industrialization. This is the direct opposite of the voluntary cooperation Marx had envisioned. The forced collectivization of peasants onto government farms, rapid industrialization through five-year plans, and the use of prison labor in gulags represented a top-down model of development that contradicted Marx’s emphasis on worker empowerment and democratic participation.

Where Marx emphasized emancipation and freedom for workers, Stalinist policies involved widespread repression, political purges, forced labor camps, and censorship. Most notable is the period that came to be known as the “Great Purge,” also called the “Great Terror,” a campaign of political repression between 1936 and 1938. It involved widespread arrests, forced confessions, show trials, executions, and imprisonment in labor camps (the Gulag system). Stalin accused perceived political rivals, military leaders, intellectuals, and ordinary citizens of being disloyal or conducting “counter-revolutionary” activities. It is estimated that about 700,000 people were executed by firing squad after being branded “enemies of the people” in show trials or secret proceedings.  Another 1.5 to 2 million people were arrested and sent to Gulag labor camps, prisons, or exile. Many died from overwork, malnutrition, disease, or harsh conditions.

Perhaps most significantly, Stalin abandoned Marx’s internationalist vision in favor of “socialism in one country.” This doctrine, developed in the 1920s, argued that the Soviet Union could build socialism independently of worldwide revolution. This shift not only contradicted Marx’s theoretical framework but also led to policies that prioritized Soviet national interests over international worker solidarity.

Key Contradictions

The differences between Marxist theory and Stalinist practice created several fundamental contradictions. Where Marx predicted the elimination of social classes, Stalin’s Soviet Union developed a rigid hierarchy with the Communist Party elite at the top, followed by technical specialists, workers, and peasants. This new class structure, while different from capitalist society, still involved significant inequalities in power, privilege, and access to resources.

Marx’s vision of worker control over production stood in stark contrast to Stalin’s centralized command economy. Rather than workers democratically managing their workplaces, Soviet workers found themselves subject to increasingly detailed state control over their labor. The factory became less a site of worker empowerment than a component in a vast state machine directed from Moscow.

The treatment of dissent also revealed fundamental differences. Marx believed that communism would eliminate the need for political repression as class conflicts disappeared. Stalin’s regime, however, relied extensively on surveillance, censorship, and violent suppression of opposition. The extensive use of terror against both perceived enemies and ordinary citizens contradicted Marx’s vision of a society based on cooperation and mutual benefit.

Modern Russia

At this point, I want to mention something about modern Russia and its current governmental and economic situation since the breakup of the Soviet Union. 

An oligarchy is a form of government where power rests in the hands of a small number of people. These individuals typically come from similar backgrounds – they might be distinguished by wealth, family ties, education, corporate control, military influence, or religious authority. The word comes from the Greek “oligarkhia,” meaning “rule by few.” In an oligarchy, this small group makes the major political and economic decisions that affect the entire population, often prioritizing their own interests over those of the broader society.

Modern Russia’s economy is often described as having oligarchic features because a relatively small group of wealthy business leaders—many of whom made their fortunes during the chaotic privatization of the 1990s—maintain outsized influence over key industries like energy, banking, and natural resources. While Russia is technically a mixed economy with both private and state involvement, political connections determine who gains access to wealth and power. This creates a system where economic opportunity is concentrated among elites closely tied to the Kremlin, most closely resembling an oligarchy.

Historical Context and Consequences

Understanding the differences between Marxist theory and Stalinist implementation requires considering the historical context in which Stalin operated. The Soviet Union faced external threats, internal resistance, and the enormous challenge of rapid modernization. Stalin’s supporters argued that harsh measures were necessary to defend the revolution and build industrial capacity quickly enough to survive in a hostile international environment.

Critics, however, contend that Stalin’s methods created a system that was fundamentally incompatible with Marx’s vision of human liberation. The concentration of power in a single party—much less a single person— combined with the suppression of democratic institutions, and the extensive use of violence and coercion demonstrate that Stalinist practice moved away from, rather than toward, Marx’s goals.

The legacy of this divergence continues to influence contemporary political debates. Supporters of Marxist theory often argue that Stalin’s failures demonstrate the dangers of abandoning egalitarian principles and internationalist perspectives. Meanwhile, critics of communism point to the Soviet experience as evidence that Marxist ideals are inherently unrealistic or even dangerous.

This comparison reveals the complex relationship between political theory and practice, highlighting how historical circumstances, leadership decisions, and practical constraints can shape the implementation of ideological visions in ways that may fundamentally alter their character and outcomes.

Why History Still Matters: Lessons for Today’s World

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On September 8, 2025

In Uncategorized

Recently I was reading an article about the poor state of historical knowledge in the United States, and I decided to repost my first article from when I started blogging almost five years ago.  It seems very little has changed.

“Study the past if you would define the future,”—Confucius. I particularly like this quotation. It is similar to the more modern version: Those who don’t learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. However, I much prefer the former because it seems to be more in the form of advice or instruction. The latter seems to be more of a dire warning. Though I suspect, given the current state of the world, a dire warning is in order.

But regardless of whether it comes in the form of advice or warning, people today do not seem to heed the importance of studying the past.  The knowledge of history in our country is woeful. The lack of emphasis on the teaching of history in general and specifically American history, is shameful. While it is tempting to blame it on the lack of interest on the part of the younger generation, I find people my own age also have very little appreciation of the events that shaped our nation, the world, and their lives. Without this understanding, how can we evaluate what is currently happening and understand what we must do to come together as a nation and as a world.

I have always found history to be a fascinating subject. Biographies and nonfiction historical books remain among my favorite reading. In college I always added one or two history courses every semester to raise my grade point average. Even in college I found it strange that many of my friends hated history courses and took only the minimum. At the time, I didn’t realize just how serious this lack of historical perspective was to become.

Several years ago, I became aware of just how little historical knowledge most people possess. At the time, Jay Leno was still doing his late-night show, and he had a segment called jaywalking. During that segment he would ask people in the street questions that were somewhat obscure and to which he could expect to get unusual and generally humorous answers. On one show, on the 4th of July, he asked people “From what country did the United States declare independence on the 4th of July?” and of course no one knew the answer.  

My first response was he must have gone through dozens of people to find the four or five people who did not know the answer to his question. The next day at work, the 5th of July, I decided to ask several people, all of whom were college graduates, the same question. I got not one single correct answer. Although, one person at least realized “I think I should know this”. When I told my wife, a retired teacher, she wasn’t surprised.  For a long time, she had been concerned about the lack of emphasis on social studies and the arts in school curriculums.  I too was now becoming seriously concerned about the direction of education in our country.

A lot of people are probably thinking “So what, who really cares what a bunch of dead people did 250 years ago?” If we don’t know what they did and why they did it how can we understand its relevance today?  We have no way to judge what actions may support the best interests of society and what will ultimately be detrimental.

Failure to learn from and understand the past results in a me-centric view of everything. If you fail to understand how and why things have developed, then you certainly cannot understand what the best course forward will be. Attempting to judge all people and events of the past through your own personal prejudices leads only to continued and worsening conflict.

If you study the past, you will see that there has never general agreement on anything. There were many disagreements, debates and even a civil war over differences of opinion.  It helps us to understand that there are no perfect people who always do everything the right way and at the right time. It helps us to appreciate the good that people do while understanding the human weaknesses that led to the things that we consider faults today. In other words, we cannot expect anyone to be a 100% perfect person. They may have accomplished many good and meaningful things, and those good and meaningful things should not be discarded because the person was also a human being with human flaws.

Understanding the past does not mean approving of everything that occurred but it also means not condemning everything that does not fit into twenty-first century mores.  Only by recognizing this and seeing what led to the disasters of the past can we hope to avoid repetition of the worst aspects of our history. History teaches lessons in compromise, involvement and understanding. Failure to recognize that leads to strident argument and an unwillingness to cooperate with those who may differ in even the slightest way. Rather than creating the hoped-for perfect society, it simply leads to a new set of problems and a new group of grievances.

In sum, failure to study history is failure to prepare for the future. We owe it to ourselves and future generations to understand where we came from and how we can best prepare our country and the world we leave for them. They deserve nothing less than a full understanding of the past and a rational way forward. 

I’m going to close with a quote I recently came across:

  “Indifference to history isn’t just ignorant, it’s rude.”

                        —David McCollum

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