Category: History Page 1 of 10

Grumpy opinions about American history

An Idea Born From Defeat

Nobody plans for a myth. The Lost Cause grew out of a very specific and very human problem: how do you explain to a grieving, ruined society that the cause it sacrificed everything for was not just defeated but morally indefensible? Roughly eighteen percent of white Southern men of military age died fighting for the Confederacy, an almost unfathomable toll for any society to absorb. For the widows, mothers, and veterans left behind, the idea that all of that loss had been in service of preserving slavery was, as one historian has put it, simply unthinkable.

Former Confederates faced the psychological and political task of explaining catastrophic loss, human devastation, and the failure of a slaveholding social order they had claimed was divinely sanctioned and constitutionally sound. So, a different story took shape, and it took shape fast. Even before the war had formally ended, Confederate leaders were already laying the rhetorical groundwork. In his farewell address to the Army of Northern Virginia the day after Appomattox, Robert E. Lee thanked his men for four years of “unsurpassed courage and fortitude,” framing the surrender as a matter of being overwhelmed by superior numbers and resources rather than a defeat on the merits of the cause itself.

The term “Lost Cause” itself entered print in 1866, when the Richmond journalist Edward Pollard published a book titled The Lost Cause: A New Southern History of the War of the Confederates. Pollard’s argument was strategic rather than sentimental. Having lost the war on the battlefield, he wrote, the South still had a “war of ideas” left to fight, and that war could still be won.

At its core, The Lost Cause is less a historical interpretation than a civil religion and propaganda project, designed to preserve white Southern honor and racial hierarchy under new conditions. It is hard to overstate how much that single phrase came to shape the next century and a half of American memory.

Pillars of a Comforting Fiction

Historians who study the Lost Cause generally point to a recognizable cluster of claims that, taken together, formed its core. Secession and the war, in this telling, had little or nothing to do with slavery and everything to do with defending states’ rights against federal overreach. The antebellum South was recast as a place of benevolent enslavers and a contented, loyal enslaved population. Confederate soldiers were honorable men fighting a defensive war, not traitors who took up arms against their own government. Military defeat was attributed almost entirely to the Union’s overwhelming advantage in manpower and industrial capacity, never to any failure of Confederate leadership or to the moral weakness of the cause. Robert E. Lee, in particular, was elevated into something close to secular sainthood. African Americans were described as “faithful slaves,” loyal to their masters and the Confederate cause and supposedly unprepared for freedom. Reconstruction was portrayed as a vindictive, corrupt imposition on a prostrate South, justifying the violent reassertion of white political control that followed. Finally, the myth insisted that though the Confederacy had fallen politically, the “spirit” of the South survived and might “rise again” if white Southerners preserved their distinctive culture, honor, and racial order. In this way, the Lost Cause provided continuity between antebellum slavery, wartime rebellion, and postwar white supremacist politics.

Every one of these claims runs directly against the documented record. The secession declarations of South Carolina, Mississippi, Georgia, Texas, and other states say plainly and repeatedly that the preservation of slavery was the cause, not an incidental issue among many. But factual accuracy was never really the point of the Lost Cause. Its purpose was psychological and political: to let the white South live with its defeat, and, just as importantly, to lay the moral groundwork for restoring the racial order that the war had supposedly settled.

Spreading the Story: Memorial Societies, Veterans, and the Pen of Jubal Early

The earliest carriers of the Lost Cause were not generals but grieving women. Ladies’ Memorial Associations formed across the South almost immediately after the war, organizing the reburial of Confederate dead and the upkeep of cemeteries. Their work was tender and local at first, but it built the emotional infrastructure — the rituals, the orations, the sanctified ground — on which a much larger ideological project would later be built.

Among former Confederate officers, the most consequential figure in shaping the Lost Cause as formal history was General Jubal Early. Early devoted much of his postwar life to defending Lee’s reputation and to attacking the record of Lee’s subordinate James Longstreet, whom Early and his allies scapegoated for the defeat at Gettysburg, protecting Lee from any share of the blame. Through groups like the Southern Historical Society, Early and like-minded veterans worked to control the historical record of the war, vetting books and articles to make sure they conformed to the approved narrative.

But the organization that did more than any other to plant the Lost Cause permanently in American culture was the United Daughters of the Confederacy, founded in 1894. The UDC’s reach extended into nearly every institution that shapes how a society remembers itself: cemeteries, churches, civic ceremonies, street names, and above all, public school textbooks. Led by figures such as Mildred Lewis Rutherford, the UDC reviewed and effectively censored history textbooks used across the South, blacklisting books that strayed from the Lost Cause storyline and rewarding those that conformed to it.

The UDC’s other great instrument was the monument. Beginning in earnest around the turn of the twentieth century and continuing well into the Jim Crow era, the organization raised money for hundreds of Confederate statues and memorials across the South and beyond. Surprisingly, at least 14 confederate monuments were established in West Virginia, a state that itself seceded from the Confederacy.

The timing of the monument wave is revealing: most went up not in the immediate aftermath of the war but decades later, in the 1890s through the 1920s, precisely as Jim Crow segregation laws were being written into state codes. Confederate iconography was being erected at the same time Black political and civil rights were being systematically stripped away. In 1904 the UDC even campaigned for so-called “faithful slave” monuments, intended to memorialize the fiction of contented, loyal enslaved people.

Churches also played a central role, effectively transforming the Lost Cause into a “culture religion” that blended Christianity with Confederate civil mythology. Clergymen like J. William Jones, sometimes called the “Evangelist of the Lost Cause,” framed Confederate soldiers as Christian martyrs and linked fidelity to Southern memory with fidelity to the faith, sanctifying the cause and its leaders. Rituals such as Confederate Memorial Day, graveside decoration, and monument dedication ceremonies functioned as recurring liturgies that reinforced the myth, with symbols like “Dixie,” the battle flag, and the gray uniform serving as quasi-sacred emblems

These organizations presented themselves as guardians of memory, but in practice they curated a highly selective recollection that emphasized honor, sacrifice, and white unity, while erasing slavery, Black agency, and Confederate internal dissent.

Popular culture did its own work alongside the formal organizations. D.W. Griffith’s 1915 film The Birth of a Nation, a massive commercial and cultural success, was adapted from a novel sympathetic to the Ku Klux Klan. It presented Reconstruction as a period of Black misrule rescued by Klan heroism. Margaret Mitchell’s 1936 novel Gone with the Wind and its 1939 film adaptation did similar work in a softer key, romanticizing the antebellum plantation South for a national, as well as Southern, audience.

A Useful Story for the Whole Country, Not Just the South

It would be a mistake to treat the Lost Cause as a purely Southern phenomenon that was merely tolerated by the rest of the country. Northern white Americans had their own reasons to embrace a version of the war that didn’t dwell too long on slavery or its aftermath. As the decades passed and the Gilded Age’s industrial culture left many white Americans disillusioned, a sentimental story of Northern and Southern soldiers as equally brave men fighting on opposite sides of a tragic but honorable conflict offered a tidy path to national reconciliation. Popular fiction of the era often symbolized this reunion literally, pairing a wealthy Northern man with an impoverished but spiritually superior Southern woman as a stand-in for the reunited nation.

That impulse for reconciliation came at a steep price and the price was paid almost entirely by Black Americans, whose claims to full citizenship and civil rights were quietly set aside so that the white North and the white South could embrace one another over Confederate graves. The historian David Blight argued that this national reunion was built directly on top of the abandonment of Reconstruction’s promises.

From Veterans’ Memory to Civil Rights Backlash

The Lost Cause did not simply persist after its turn-of-the-century peak; it surged again whenever white supremacy felt politically threatened. Its second major resurgence came during the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s, when Confederate flags, monuments, and rhetoric were deployed by segregationists as symbols of resistance to federal civil rights enforcement and to the broader push for racial equality. The display of Confederate iconography on state capitol grounds and on state flags during this period was viewed by many as a calculated act of contemporary political defiance dressed up as heritage and not a simple continuation of nineteenth-century commemoration.

Politically, the Lost Cause served the interests of Southern Democratic elites and white supremacist movements seeking to roll back Reconstruction and to legitimize Jim Crow segregation. By re-framing the war as a righteous defense of self-government and by portraying Reconstruction as illegitimate “Northern rule,” the myth provided a moral vocabulary for resisting Black voting, officeholding, and civil equality. Supporters of the Lost Cause were not simply being nostalgic; they were engaging in active political work, using historical distortion to shape contemporary policy.

By the mid-twentieth century, professional historians had begun dismantling the Lost Cause’s factual claims in earnest. Scholars such as Eric Foner, Barbara Fields, David Blight, and others reoriented Civil War and Reconstruction history around the documentary evidence: the secession declarations, the wartime speeches, the Confederate constitution’s explicit protections for slavery. Among professional historians today, the Lost Cause is treated not as a contested interpretation but as a settled case of historical negation — a comforting story constructed and maintained for reasons that had little to do with what actually happened.

How the Lost Cause Shows Up Today

The most visible modern flashpoint has been the fight over Confederate monuments. The removal of statues in cities such as New Orleans and Charlottesville in the 2010s, and the surge of removals following the 2020 protests over the killing of George Floyd, were not really arguments about bronze and granite. They were arguments about which story of the war and which set of values a public square should honor.

The Lost Cause also survives in quieter, more subtle ways. Many people still describe the Civil War as a conflict over “states’ rights.” They often leave out the specific right Southern states were determined to protect: slavery. Family heritage organizations, such as the Sons of Confederate Veterans, continue much of the commemorative work begun by the United Daughters of the Confederacy. Some textbooks and museum exhibits are still being revised to remove decades of Lost Cause interpretation, though this action is currently coming under attack. Popular culture also continues to romanticize the antebellum South as gracious and orderly, while overlooking that its economy depended on enslaved labor.

For many Americans, this version of history became the story they learned as children. Ideas learned early are often the hardest to change. Understanding the Lost Cause as a myth rather than a mere mistaken interpretation is crucial, because it underscores that this narrative was consciously constructed to serve specific social and political ends. It helped white Southerners cope with defeat, but it also justified the continued subordination of African Americans and shaped national memory in ways that obscured the realities of slavery and racial violence. Its persistence into the present suggests that struggles over the historical narrative are inseparable from struggles over power: how Americans remember the Civil War is bound up with how they understand inequality, citizenship, and the responsibilities of the modern state.

Why the Story Still Matters

The Lost Cause endures, I think, because it solves a problem every defeated society faces: what do you do with the dead, and with the cause they died for, when that cause turns out to have been wrong? The honest answer — that hundreds of thousands of men died defending a system built on human bondage — is almost unbearable to sit with, and the Lost Cause offered, and still offers, an alternative that lets descendants feel pride instead of horror. That emotional utility is precisely what has made it so durable, and precisely why dismantling it has taken historians the better part of a century and is, by most accounts, still unfinished work that may never be complete.

Sources

1. “Lost Cause | Meaning, Myth, Ideology, History, Significance, & Facts,” Encyclopaedia Britannica.

2. Caroline Janney, “The Lost Cause,” Encyclopedia Virginia, Virginia Humanities.

3. “The Lost Cause: Definition and Origins,” American Battlefield Trust.

4. “Lost Cause of the Confederacy,” Wikipedia.

5. “United Daughters of the Confederacy,” Wikipedia.

6. Sue Sturgis, “TWISTED SOURCES: How Confederate propaganda ended up in the South’s schoolbooks,” Facing South.

7. “Lost Cause,” 64 Parishes.

8. “Lost Cause Myth,” The Inclusive Historian’s Handbook.

9. “Origins of the Confederate Lost Cause,” JSTOR Daily.

10. Solomon Crenshaw Jr., “Daughters of Confederacy Put Up Statues, Indoctrinated Generations, Historians Say,” BirminghamWatch.

11. “The Lost Cause Myth: How the South Flipped the American Civil War Story,” The Valentine Museum.

The Golden Age That Never Was

By John Turley

On July 14, 2026

In Commentary, History, Politics

How the Myth of 1950s America Is Being Weaponized by the Modern Right

Not long ago, I was sitting in a waiting room waiting to get an X-ray done. They had MeTV on the television and Leave It To Beaver was playing. You know, the classic 1950s television show where dad went to work, mom stayed at home and did housework while wearing pearls, a dress and heels, and the kids were well behaved even though they may occasionally have been “scamps”. Few ideas exert a stronger pull on the American imagination than the belief that there was once a lost golden age—a time when the nation was more prosperous, more moral, more unified, and more secure than it is today.

Ask most Americans when the country was at its best and there’s a decent chance you’ll hear something like: ” the ’50s.” Clean neighborhoods. Stable families. Everyone going to church on Sunday. One income paying the bills. It’s a seductive image and it’s one that right-wing politicians and evangelical leaders have been selling hard for decades. The only problem is that it was never the whole truth. In 2025, the effort to resurrect that selective memory began the move from campaign rhetoric into actual governance.

Let’s take a close look at the mythology of postwar America and examine what the 1940s and 1950s actually looked like for the millions of Americans excluded from the postcard image and explore how modern conservative politicians and religious leaders are drawing on that mythology to reshape the country today.

The Legend: America’s Postwar Paradise

It’s easy to understand the emotional pull. After the trauma of World War II and the deprivation of the Great Depression, the late 1940s and 1950s did, for a particular slice of America, offer something genuinely new: suburban homes, new cars, television sets, and a sense of safety and prosperity that earlier generations couldn’t have imagined. For white, middle-class families in the northern and midwestern United States, the GI Bill opened the door to homeownership and college education. Real wages rose. Life expectancy improved. The birth rate climbed.

Televisions went from being owned by 12 percent of households in 1950 to over 90 percent by the end of the decade and beamed idealized domestic life straight into living rooms across the country. Programs like Father Knows Best and, of course, Leave It to Beaver were essentially aspirational advertising. Nobody was poor. Nobody was Black. Nobody was gay. Nobody was confused. Everyone’s lawn was neatly trimmed and their problems resolved in 22 minutes.

It is worth acknowledging that aspects of this nostalgia reflect real experience for a limited few. The cultural stability and sense of community that many Americans remember from the era were genuine features of daily life for some people in some places. Writer Alan Ehrenhalt, who wrote extensively about 1950s Chicago neighborhoods, documented the authentic bonds people formed and the coherent community life that anchored their lives. The nostalgia is not entirely manufactured. But the question is: whose nostalgia counts, and who pays the price for making it policy?

The Reality Check: Who Got Left Out

Here is what the postcard left out: the United States of the 1950s was a country of legally enforced racial segregation, economic exclusion, and profound gender inequality. It was, in many respects, a country operating an unofficial domestic system of apartheid.

Jim Crow laws governed daily life for Black Americans from the post-Reconstruction era through the mid-1960s. Schools, workplaces, public transportation, medical facilities, and parks were racially segregated across the South and informally segregated in much of the North. Poll taxes and literacy tests suppressed Black voting. Vagrancy laws effectively criminalized unemployment among Black men. Physical terror, including lynching and the threat of violence, was used as a tool of social control.

Black Americans in the 1950s faced a starkly different economic reality than white Americans. Discriminatory lending practices, including the federally sanctioned “redlining” that denied mortgages to Black families in certain zip codes, locked millions out of the very suburban prosperity that defines the nostalgic image of the era. The GI Bill, widely celebrated as the engine of postwar middle-class expansion, was administered locally and largely excluded Black veterans in the South through discriminatory implementation.

Women fared little better by today’s standards. The idealization of the 1950s housewife conceals the coercive nature of women’s domestic confinement in that era. Women were largely excluded from professional careers, could not obtain credit cards in their own names until 1974, and faced deeply limited legal recourse against workplace discrimination or domestic violence. The image of the contented housewife was, for many women, less a personal choice than the only option available to them.

The economy itself was more volatile than the mythology suggests. The United States suffered four recessions between 1949 and 1960. Average GDP growth during the Eisenhower years ran at about 2.5 percent — respectable, but hardly the sustained boom of legend. And when measured by real GDP per capita in today’s dollars, the average American is roughly 3.7 times better off financially now than in 1955, which complicates the argument that things were economically superior back then.

The period was also marked by intense Cold War anxiety. Americans conducted nuclear attack drills in schools and lived with the constant fear of atomic war. I can remember the “duck and cover” drills that we had in school, as if hiding under our desk would protect us from a nuclear blast. The era also witnessed the rise of McCarthyism, during which accusations of communist sympathies, most without proof, damaged careers and chilled political dissent.

In this version of history, America was once united, moral, prosperous, and respected. Something then went wrong—often identified as secularization, feminism, immigration, globalization, civil rights activism, cultural liberalism, or government expansion. The nation’s challenges are therefore attributed not to complex economic and social forces but to a departure from traditional values.

Building the Myth: The Role of Religion and Cold War Politics

One of the most significant and least understood aspects of 1950s nostalgia is how deliberately constructed it was at the time. The “Christian America” that modern evangelical conservatives point to as a foundational model was, in large part, a Cold War invention.

Historian Kevin Kruse, in his book “One Nation Under God,” documents in detail how business, political, and religious leaders worked during the 1940s and 1950s to fuse Christianity with American national identity in an explicit effort to distinguish the United States from “godless communism.” The phrase “under God” was inserted into the Pledge of Allegiance in 1954 following a lobbying campaign by the Knights of Columbus. “In God We Trust” was adopted as the national motto in 1956, replacing the unofficial but far more pluralistic “E Pluribus Unum” — “Out of Many, One.” Both initiatives had the explicit goal of defining American identity through religious contrast with the Soviet Union, not of recovering some ancient tradition.

President Eisenhower was the central political figure in this fusion of piety and patriotism. Though he had little religious affiliation for most of his life, in 1953 he was baptized in the Presbyterian Church and became active in what historians called the “religious revival” of 1950s America. He signed the National Association of Evangelicals’ “Statement of Seven Divine Freedoms” in 1953 and became what many regarded as a symbolic pastor-in-chief. The Advertising Council ran a nationwide “Religion in American Life” campaign encouraging church attendance. Corporate America joined in: Walt Disney incorporated explicitly patriotic and religious themes into his Anaheim park. The annual National Prayer Breakfast was institutionalized. Presidential speeches began ending with “God bless America” as a matter of course.

Kruse is careful to note that this represented something genuinely new, not the recovery of something original. The “Christian founding” narrative so beloved by modern evangelical conservatives is, in his assessment, more myth than history. What the 1950s actually produced was a strategic civil religion built for Cold War propaganda — a useful fiction that has since been mistaken for ancient truth.

For many voters, such appeals are less about historical accuracy than emotional reassurance. They promise stability amid rapid change and offer a sense of continuity in a world that often feels uncertain.

The Political Machinery: From Reagan to MAGA

“Make America Great Again” is not, as many people assume, a phrase that originated with Donald Trump. Ronald Reagan used it extensively during his 1980 presidential campaign. Its emotional logic — that there was a better time, that it was taken from us, that we can return to it — has been a structural feature of American right-wing politics for at least four decades.

What Trump did was amplify it and make the temporal reference more explicit. When pressed, Trump has pointed to the late 1940s and 1950s as the era he has in mind as a model of national greatness. And his supporters appear to share that view. A 2024 survey by the Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI) found that approximately 70 percent of Republicans believe that America’s culture and way of life has changed for the worse since the 1950s.

That survey finding is worth thinking about. Seven in ten members of one of the nation’s two major political parties believe the country was better when segregation was legal, women couldn’t get a credit card, and McCarthyism was destroying careers on the basis of rumor and suspicion. The longing is, of course, more selective than that, most of those respondents are thinking of the community, stability, and cultural coherence of the era, not its injustices. But the political machinery that exploits that nostalgia does not make those fine distinctions.

Project 2025, the 900-page policy blueprint produced by the Heritage Foundation and dozens of allied conservative organizations, is perhaps the most systematic expression of this restorationist project. Its stated goals include restoring “the family as the centerpiece of American life,” reducing federal government size, centralizing executive power, and returning to what it calls “foundational values.” The document explicitly frames the current moment as a crisis requiring urgent corrective action to restore something that has been lost: a rhetorical structure that assumes the loss of a golden past as its premise.

The Evangelical Revival: Reclaiming a Nation That Never Quite Was

For evangelical Christians in the MAGA coalition, the 1950s hold special significance because of the Eisenhower-era fusion of Christianity and national identity. The addition of “under God” to the Pledge and “In God We Trust” to the currency are treated as evidence of a deep historical tradition — proof that America has “always” been a Christian nation. As one analysis published in Mere Orthodoxy noted, among proponents of Christian nationalism, there is broad agreement that “the cultural Christianity of the Eisenhower era presents a model to which we should aspire.”

The political ambitions of this movement are not subtle. During the first year of Trump’s second term, a series of executive orders moved explicitly toward institutionalizing evangelical Christian priorities within the federal government. One established a task force to “eradicate Christian bias” from government. Another created a White House Faith Office. A third established a Religious Liberty Commission. The rhetorical framing was consistently restorative — “bringing back” religion, returning to foundational truths, recovering what was lost.

What this narrative omits, as historians of religion have carefully documented, is that the “Christian America” of the 1950s was itself a political construction, not an inherited tradition. The founders were, at best, a religiously mixed group whose Enlightenment-influenced constitutional framework was deliberately secular. As Americans United for Separation of Church and State ha noted, the Cold War-era religious symbols that Christian nationalists now treat as bedrock tradition would have been unfamiliar and to the actual founders.

The 1950s that evangelicals and Christian nationalists embrace as a Christian model was also the decade that ended with Supreme Court rulings in 1962 and 1963 prohibiting sponsored prayer and Bible reading in public schools. From the Christian nationalist perspective, those rulings mark the beginning of America’s moral decline. Which means the golden age they want to restore existed for, at most, a few years before it was, by their own account, already being dismantled.

Nostalgia as a Political Tool: The Psychology Behind the Appeal

None of this is to say that nostalgia is inherently dishonest or manipulative. Research in psychology consistently shows that people misremember the past by emphasizing positive personal experiences and filtering out context that complicates the picture. This is normal human cognition, not bad faith. For working-class white Americans who experienced the 1950s as a period of genuine stability and upward mobility, the memory is not false. The problem arises when personal memory is converted into universal history and then into policy prescription.

Political movements have always understood the emotional power of a remembered golden age. The appeal to restoration allows politicians to diagnose the present as fallen and to promise recovery without having to specify precisely what they’re recovering. It is a rhetorically flexible tool: it can mean lower taxes, stronger churches, tougher borders, whiter neighborhoods, or simply the vague sense that things made more sense once and someone took them away from you. The ambiguity is a feature, not a bug. It allows a coalition of people with different specific grievances to unite around a shared emotional posture.

What makes the current moment distinctive is the ambition and specificity of the institutional project. Earlier iterations of “Make America Great Again” were largely rhetorical. Project 2025, Christian nationalism’s White House offices, and the executive order campaign of Trump’s second term represent an attempt to translate nostalgic sentiment into durable structural change. The mythology is no longer just a campaign slogan. It is becoming, or attempting to become, a governing framework.

What Gets Left Out When We Go Back

The practical consequences of any serious attempt to restore something like 1950s governance deserve direct examination. The America of that era did not inadvertently exclude Black citizens, women, LGBTQ+ Americans, and religious minorities from full participation in public life. It excluded them by law and by deliberate institutional design. Any genuine “return” to the social order of that era would require actively undoing the legal and social progress of the intervening seven decades.

Some elements of the contemporary right’s agenda move explicitly in that direction: challenges to voting rights provisions, rollbacks of civil rights protections for LGBTQ+ Americans, attacks on DEI programs, restrictions on reproductive autonomy, and pressure on the constitutional separation of church and state. Whether these specific policies will achieve their stated goals is a matter of legitimate political debate. But the historical record of the 1950s for the Americans who were not white, male, heterosexual, and Protestant is not ambiguous. For them it was not a golden age, not even close.

Perhaps the most honest thing one can say about the 1950s is what the historical record shows: it was a complex, contradictory decade. For some Americans, it genuinely offered stability, community, and opportunity. For others, it was a system of legal oppression maintained by violence and economic exclusion. Both things are true. A serious engagement with the era requires recognizing that contradiction. A political mythology that acknowledges only one of those truths is not history. It is propaganda.

A Final Thought

The golden age of America is a powerful story. It has the great advantage of being partly true — enough to feel authentic to those who experienced it, enough to resonate with people who wish the present were simpler and more coherent. But it is a partial truth that has been shaped, amplified, and in some cases invented to serve political ends. The religious symbolism of the Eisenhower era was a Cold War construction, not an ancient tradition. The prosperity of the postwar years was real for some but radically unequal. The community stability that people remember was purchased, in part, through the enforced subordination of millions of Americans.

Understanding all of this doesn’t require abandoning the genuine good things of that era — community, stability, the importance of family and neighborhood. It requires being honest about the terms on which those good things were available and for whom. And it requires asking whether the politicians and religious leaders invoking that era’s memory are interested in what made it work for many Americans and extending those benefits to everyone, or whether they are more interested in what made it work specifically for white, Christian, heterosexual men.

History does not go backward. But it can be selectively remembered in ways that carry serious consequences for the present. That is worth thinking carefully about.

Sources

1. Petit, K. (2025). “The Myth of the American Golden Age.” Medium

2. Cochrane, J. H. (2026). “The 1950s: A Not-So-Golden Age.” Coolidge Review

3. Kabaservice, G. (2025). “Populism and Working-Class Nostalgia for the 1950s.” Niskanen Center

4. Americans United for Separation of Church and State. (2020). “Trapped in a Time Warp: Christian Nationalists Pine for the 1950s.” au.org

5. Fea, J. (2015). “One Nation Under God.” Review of Kruse, K., “One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America.” Christianity Today

6. Americans United for Separation of Church and State. (2025). “In God We Trust: Don’t Blame It on the Founders.” au.org

7. Baptist News Global. (2023). “Christian Nationalism: How Evangelical Christianity Became a Political Religion.” baptistnews.com

8. Homeaddict.io. (2025). “19 Myths About the 1950s.” homeaddict.io

9. Mitchell, D. (2024). “The 1950s Economic Golden Age Is a Myth.” Foundation for Economic Education

10. ACLU. (2026). “Project 2025, Explained.” aclu.org

11. Heritage Foundation. (2023). “Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise.” heritage.org

12. Salon.com. (2025). “Trump’s MAGA Coalition Is Showing Cracks Over Religion.” salon.com

13. Mere Orthodoxy. (2024). “The ‘New’ Christian Nationalism.” mereorthodoxy.com

14. Oxford Academic. (2024). “Jim Crow and Black Economic Progress after Slavery.” Quarterly Journal of Economics. academic.oup.com

15. Newsweek. (2026). “Project 2025 Group Has Plan for Next 250 Years of America.” newsweek.com

Declaring Independence: The Origin of America’s Founding Document

By John Turley

On July 4, 2026

In History

When Americans celebrate the Fourth of July, we imagine fireworks, flags, and a dramatic reading of the Declaration of Independence. We think we know the story—The Continental Congress selected Thomas Jefferson to write the declaration. He labored alone to produce this famous document. Congress then approved it unanimously and it was signed on the 4th of July.

But the truth is far different and more complex. The story behind this iconic document—the how, who, and why of its creation—is just as explosive and illuminating as the day it represents. Far from a spontaneous outburst of rebellion, the Declaration was the product of political strategy, collaborative writing, and a shared sense of urgency among men who knew their words would change the course of history.

Setting the Stage: Why a Declaration?

By the spring of 1776, the American colonies were deep in conflict with Great Britain. Battles at Lexington and Concord had already been fought. George Washington was attempting to transform the continental army into a professional fighting force. Thomas Paine’s Common Sense had ignited widespread public support for full separation from the British Crown. The Continental Congress had been meeting in Philadelphia, debating how far they were willing to go. By June, the mood had shifted from reconciliation to revolution.

On June 7, 1776, Richard Henry Lee of Virginia introduced a resolution to the Continental Congress declaring “that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States.” The motion was controversial—some delegates wanted more time to consult their colonies. But most in Congress knew that if independence was going to happen, it needed to be explained and justified to the world, so they created a committee to draft a formal declaration.

The Committee of Five

On June 11, 1776, the Continental Congress appointed a “Committee of Five” to write the declaration. The members were:

Thomas Jefferson of Virginia
John Adams of Massachusetts
Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania
Roger Sherman of Connecticut
Robert R. Livingston of New York

This was not a random selection. Each man represented a different region of the colonies and had earned the trust of fellow delegates. Jefferson was relatively young but already known for his eloquence. Adams was an outspoken advocate of independence. Franklin brought wisdom, wit, diplomatic experience, and international prestige. Sherman brought New England theological perspectives and legislative experience, while Livingston represented the more moderate New York delegation and brought keen legal insight.

Jefferson Takes the Pen

Although it was a group project on paper, the heavy lifting fell to Thomas Jefferson. The committee chose him to draft the initial version. Why Jefferson? According to John Adams, Jefferson was chosen for three reasons: he was from Virginia (the most influential colony), he was popular, and, Adams admitted, “you can write ten times better than I can.”

Jefferson wrote the draft in a rented room at 700 Market Street in Philadelphia. He leaned heavily on Enlightenment ideas, especially those of John Locke, emphasizing natural rights and the notion that government derives its power from the consent of the governed. He also borrowed phrasing from earlier colonial declarations, including his own A Summary View of the Rights of British America and borrowed extensively from George Mason’s Virginia Declaration of Rights.

The Editing Process: Group Work Gets Messy

After Jefferson completed the initial draft (likely by June 28), he shared it with Adams and Franklin. Both men suggested revisions. Franklin, ever the editor, softened some of Jefferson’s sharpest attacks and corrected language for flow and diplomacy. His most famous contribution was changing Jefferson’s phrase “We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable” to the more secular and philosophically precise “We hold these truths to be self-evident.”

Adams contributed to structural suggestions and to tone. He also contributed to the strategic presentation of grievances against King George III, understanding that the declaration needed to justify revolution in terms that would be acceptable to both colonial readers and potential European allies.

Sherman and Livingston played more limited but still meaningful roles. Sherman, with his theological background, helped ensure the document’s religious references would appeal to Puritan New England, while Livingston’s legal expertise helped refine the constitutional arguments against British rule. Otherwise, their involvement in the actual content of the declaration was likely minimal.

The revised draft was presented to the full Continental Congress on June 28, 1776. What followed was a few days of intense debate and revision by the entire body.

Congress Takes the Red Pen

From July 1 to July 4, the Continental Congress debated the resolution for independence and edited the Declaration. Jefferson watched as more than two dozen changes were made to his prose. The Congress cut about a quarter of the original text, including a lengthy passage condemning King George III for perpetuating the transatlantic slave trade that would have sparked deep division among the delegates, especially those from Southern colonies.

Other modifications included strengthening the religious language, toning down some of the more inflammatory rhetoric, and making the grievances more specific and legally grounded. Congress made 86 edits, removing about a quarter of Jefferson’s original content. Jefferson was reportedly frustrated by the changes, calling them “mutilations,” but he recognized that compromise was the cost of consensus

Approval and Promulgation

Despite the extensive revisions, the core of Jefferson’s vision remained intact and on July 2, 1776, the Continental Congress voted in favor of Lee’s resolution for independence. That’s the actual date the colonies officially broke from Britain. John Adams even predicted in a letter to his wife that July 2 would be celebrated forever as America’s Independence Day. He was close—but the official adoption of the Declaration came two days later.

On July 4, 1776, Congress formally approved the final version of the Declaration of Independence. Contrary to popular belief, most of the signers did not sign it on that day. Only John Hancock, as president of Congress, and Charles Thomson, as secretary, signed then. The famous handwritten version, now in the National Archives, wasn’t signed until August 2. But the document approved on July 4 was immediately printed by John Dunlap, the official printer to Congress.

These first copies, known as Dunlap Broadsides, were distributed throughout the colonies and sent to military leaders, state assemblies, and even King George III. George Washington had it read aloud to the Continental Army. This rapid dissemination was crucial to its impact, as it was needed to rally public support for the revolutionary cause and explain the colonies’ actions to the world.

Legacy and Impact

The Declaration wasn’t just a break-up letter to the British Crown—it was a manifesto for a new kind of political order. Its assertion that “all men are created equal” would echo through centuries of American history, invoked by abolitionists, suffragists, civil rights leaders, and more.

The creation of the Declaration of Independence demonstrates that even the most iconic documents in American history emerged from collaborative processes involving compromise, revision, and collective wisdom. While Jefferson deserves primary credit for the document’s eloquent expression of revolutionary ideals, the contributions of his committee colleagues and the broader Continental Congress were essential to creating a text that could unite thirteen diverse colonies in common cause.

This collaborative origin reflects the democratic principles the declaration itself proclaimed, showing that American independence was achieved not through the vision of a single individual, but through the collective efforts of representatives working together to articulate their shared commitment to liberty, equality, and self-governance. The process that created the Declaration of Independence thus embodied the very democratic ideals it proclaimed to the world.

Today, the Declaration of Independence is enshrined as one of the foundational texts of American democracy. But it’s worth remembering that it was created under immense pressure, forged by committee, and edited by compromise. Its authors knew they were taking a dangerous step. As Franklin quipped at the signing, “We must all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.”

America’s First Constitution

By John Turley

On June 26, 2026

In History, Politics

The Articles of Confederation: Birth, Failures, and Legacy

The United States Constitution, ratified in 1788 and implemented in 1789, is often treated as the nation’s true founding framework. Yet before it, there existed another governing document, one far less celebrated but no less essential to understanding the early republic. The Articles of Confederation and Perpetual Union served as America’s first constitution from their adoption by the Continental Congress in 1777 to their replacement just over a decade later. Imperfect, fragile, and ultimately unsustainable, the Articles nevertheless provided the institutional bridge between revolution and nationhood.

To understand why the Articles were structured as they were—and why they ultimately failed we need to step back into the mindset of the revolutionary generation. The men who drafted them were not political theorists operating in calm conditions; they were wartime leaders grappling with uncertainty, scarcity, and deep suspicion of centralized authority. They had just rebelled against British tyranny, and they were determined not to allow such power on American soil. The result was a system deliberately designed to restrain national authority, even at the cost of efficiency. The Articles represented both a solution to immediate wartime needs and a reflection of deeply held ideological fears. Their story is not merely one of failure, but of experimentation, adaptation, and political learning.

Revolutionary Context and the Need for Union

The intellectual origins of the Articles stretch back well before independence. Colonial leaders had long recognized the potential benefits of intercolonial cooperation. Benjamin Franklin’s Albany Plan of Union in 1754 proposed a centralized colonial government capable of coordinating defense and managing relations with Native nations. Though ultimately rejected by the colonies, the plan foreshadowed later efforts at union by raising the fundamental question of how semi-autonomous political entities might cooperate without surrendering their independence.

That question became urgent during the American Revolution. When the Second Continental Congress convened in 1775, it functioned as a provisional government, but its authority was ambiguous and largely dependent on voluntary compliance. As the war intensified, it became increasingly clear that thirteen separate colonies could not effectively wage a coordinated struggle against the British Empire without some formal political structure. Congress needed legitimacy—not merely as a gathering of delegates, but as a governing body with recognized authority over military, diplomatic, and financial matters.

On June 11, 1776, Congress appointed a committee to draft a plan of confederation, even as another committee worked on the Declaration of Independence. The parallel timing was no coincidence. Independence required not only separation from Britain but also the creation of a new political order. The Articles were intended to provide that order, a framework through which the states could act collectively while preserving their individual sovereignty.

Drafting Under Pressure

The drafting process unfolded under extraordinary circumstances. John Dickinson of Pennsylvania, a respected lawyer and political thinker, chaired the committee and produced the initial draft in July 1776. Debate over its provisions, however, proved slow and contentious. Congress was simultaneously managing a war, and immediate military concerns often took precedence over constitutional deliberation.

Disagreements over representation, taxation, and western land claims delayed progress for more than a year. It was not until November 15, 1777, while Congress was in exile in York, Pennsylvania, following the British capture of Philadelphia, that the Articles were finally approved. Even then, the document was widely understood as a compromise rather than an ideal solution.

Ratification presented an additional challenge. Because the Articles required unanimous consent, any single state could delay their implementation. The principal obstacle came from disputes over western lands. States with expansive territorial claims, such as Virginia, were reluctant to relinquish them, while smaller states like Maryland insisted that such lands should be held in common for the benefit of the union. Only after Virginia agreed to cede its claims did Maryland ratify the Articles on March 1, 1781, bringing them into full effect.

Structure and Principles

The Articles of Confederation established a national government that was intentionally limited in scope. At its core was a unicameral Congress in which each state, regardless of size or population, held a single vote. This arrangement reflected the primacy of state sovereignty: the union was conceived not as a single nation but as a “league of friendship” among independent states.

The national government possessed certain powers, including the authority to declare war, negotiate treaties, coin money, and manage relations with Native nations. However, these powers were constrained by critical limitations. Congress could not levy taxes directly, regulate interstate commerce, or enforce its decisions upon the states. Instead, it relied on requisitions, little more than requests for funds, which states frequently ignored or, at best, only partially fulfilled.

Equally significant was the absence of both an executive branch and a national judiciary. There was no president to enforce laws or coordinate policy, and no federal court system to interpret them. Administrative functions were handled by committees and departments accountable to Congress, resulting in a diffuse and often ineffective system of governance.

Amending the Articles required unanimous consent, a provision that made meaningful reform nearly impossible. While intended to protect state sovereignty, this requirement ensured that structural weaknesses could not be easily corrected.

Achievements Under the Articles

Despite their limitations, the Articles of Confederation were not without success. Most importantly, they provided a legal framework that enabled the colonies to prosecute and ultimately win the Revolutionary War. The Continental Congress, operating under the authority of the Articles, secured crucial alliances, most notably with France, and negotiated the Treaty of Paris in 1783, which formally ended the conflict and recognized American independence.

The Confederation government also achieved lasting success in western land policy. The Land Ordinances of 1784 and 1785, followed by the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, established a systematic process for surveying, selling, and governing western territories. These measures ensured that new states would enter the union on equal footing with the original thirteen and prohibited slavery in the Northwest Territory. This framework not only facilitated orderly expansion but also set important precedents for federal authority over territories.

The Articles also fostered a sense of national identity, however fragile. They affirmed the name “United States of America” and maintained a formal union during a period when regional differences might easily have led to fragmentation.

Structural Weaknesses and Growing Crisis

The weaknesses of the Articles, however, became increasingly apparent in the postwar period. Financial instability was among the most pressing issues. Without the power to tax, Congress struggled to pay war debts, fund the military, or support basic governmental functions. Inflation, currency devaluation, and economic dislocation further compounded these difficulties.

Interstate economic conflict added another layer of instability. In the absence of federal regulation, states imposed tariffs and trade barriers against one another, undermining economic cohesion. Competing currencies and inconsistent policies created an environment of uncertainty that hindered recovery and growth.

The lack of enforcement mechanisms proved equally problematic. Congress could pass laws and enter into treaties, but it had no means of compelling compliance. States frequently ignored national directives, and often violated provisions of the Treaty of Paris, particularly regarding the treatment of loyalists and British creditors. This inability to enforce national policy damaged American credibility abroad.

These structural deficiencies reflected the underlying philosophy of the Articles: a deep distrust of centralized power. By the mid-1780s, it was becoming clear that excessive decentralization carried its own dangers.

Shays’ Rebellion and the Turning Point

The crisis reached a breaking point with Shays’ Rebellion in 1786–1787. Economic hardship, particularly among farmers in western Massachusetts, led to widespread unrest. Burdened by debt and high taxes, many farmers faced foreclosure and imprisonment. When legal and political remedies failed, they turned to direct action, closing courts and attempting to seize the federal arsenal at Springfield.

The Confederation government was effectively powerless to respond. Lacking both funds and military authority, Congress could offer no assistance. The rebellion was ultimately suppressed by a state militia supported by private funds, underscoring the inability of the national government to maintain order.

The implications were profound. For many leaders, including George Washington and Alexander Hamilton, Shays’ Rebellion demonstrated that the existing system was untenable. A government that could not enforce laws or ensure domestic tranquility was doomed to collapse.

Toward a New Constitution

Efforts to address these problems began modestly. The Annapolis Convention of 1786, initially convened to discuss trade issues, concluded that broader reforms were necessary and called for a general convention in Philadelphia. In February 1787, Congress endorsed this proposal, though officially only to revise the Articles.

The Philadelphia Convention, however, quickly moved beyond revision. Delegates recognized that the Articles’ fundamental structure, particularly the reliance on voluntary state compliance, could not support an effective national government. The solution was to become an entirely new framework: the United States Constitution.

Ratified in 1788 and implemented the following year, the Constitution addressed the central weaknesses of the Articles by establishing a stronger federal government with the power to tax, regulate commerce, enforce laws, and operate through separate executive, legislative, and judicial branches.

Legacy and Historical Significance

It is tempting to view the Articles of Confederation solely as a failure, a flawed experiment quickly discarded in favor of a superior system. Such a perspective, however, overlooks their broader significance. The Articles represented a necessary first step in the creation of the American republic. They reflected the political realities and ideological commitments of their time, particularly the pervasive fear of centralized authority.

Their shortcomings provided invaluable lessons. The Constitution did not emerge in a vacuum; it was shaped directly by the experience of governing under the Articles. The framers understood, from hard experience, the dangers of both excessive centralization and excessive decentralization. The resulting system sought to balance these concerns, creating a government strong enough to function yet constrained enough to preserve liberty.

The Articles also demonstrated that political systems can evolve. They were not the final word on American governance, but an early chapter in an ongoing process of constitutional development. Their legacy lies not only in what they achieved, but in what they revealed about the challenges of building a nation.

In this sense, the Articles of Confederation were not a failure so much as an experiment, one conducted under extraordinary pressure, with limited precedent, and with stakes that could scarcely have been higher. They held the union together long enough for a more durable system to emerge. That alone secures their place in the story of American constitutional history.

Image generated by author using ChatGPT.

Sources

National Archives: Articles of Confederation (1777) — Primary Document

Library of Congress: Articles of Confederation — John Dickinson (1778)

HISTORY.com: Articles of Confederation — Weaknesses, Definition, Date

George Washington’s Mount Vernon: The Articles of Confederation

U.S. Department of State, Office of the Historian: Articles of Confederation, 1777–1781

Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia: Articles of Confederation

Encyclopaedia Britannica: John Dickinson

Wikipedia: John Dickinson

Historical Society of Pennsylvania (via Panorama/SHEAR): The John Dickinson Draft of the Articles of Confederation

National Archives: John Dickinson Writings

University of Delaware Library: John Dickinson — Penman of the Revolution

EBSCO Research Starters: Analysis — Articles of Confederation

Wikipedia: Articles of Confederation

Wikipedia: Shays’s Rebellion

National Constitution Center: Summary of Shays’ Rebellion

American History Central: Articles of Confederation

SLCC Press / Attenuated Democracy: Chapter 12 — Articles of Confederation, Shays’ Rebellion and the Road to the Constitution

GovFacts.org: Why the Articles of Confederation Failed

Cracked But Not Broken: The Facts and Fictions of the Liberty Bell

By John Turley

On June 15, 2026

In History

There it sits in a climate-controlled room in Philadelphia, drawing roughly 1.5 million visitors a year — a 2,080-pound bronze bell with a crack running through it that everyone recognizes and almost no one fully understands. The Liberty Bell is arguably the most mythologized object in American history, which is saying something in a country that has turned its founding era into something close to civic religion.

But here’s the thing: the myths aren’t just harmless embellishments. Many of the most beloved stories about the Liberty Bell — when it rang, why it cracked, how it got its name — turn out to be products of 19th-century fiction writers, political activists, and the particular American genius for turning complicated history into a clean, inspirational tale about how a relatively obscure object became one of the most powerful symbols in American culture.

Before It Was the Liberty Bell

Let’s start with a basic fact that surprises most people: the bell wasn’t originally called the Liberty Bell at all. For the better part of a century, it went by the rather mundane name of the State House Bell, because that’s exactly what it was, the bell that hung in the steeple of the Pennsylvania State House, now known as Independence Hall.

The bell was commissioned in 1751 by the Pennsylvania Provincial Assembly to mark the 50th anniversary of William Penn’s 1701 Charter of Privileges, Pennsylvania’s founding constitutional document. It was cast by the Whitechapel Bell Foundry in London and arrived in Philadelphia in 1752. The inscription it carried — “Proclaim LIBERTY Throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants Thereof” — comes from Leviticus 25:10, a biblical passage about the Jubilee Year, during which debts were forgiven and slaves were freed. It was selected by Quaker Isaac Norris, speaker of the Assembly, as a fitting tribute to Penn’s legacy of religious tolerance.

The bell didn’t become the Liberty Bell until the 1830s, when anti-slavery activists seized on that Leviticus inscription as a powerful rallying cry. It first appeared as the “Liberty Bell” in an 1835 abolitionist publication, and the name was subsequently popularized through William Lloyd Garrison’s The Liberator. Ironically, the object that Americans associate most with the founding of a free nation earned its famous name not from the Revolution, but from the fight to end slavery, a cause the Revolution had conspicuously left unfinished.

Did It Actually Ring on July 4th?

Here’s the myth most Americans carry around: the Liberty Bell rang out joyfully on July 4, 1776, to announce the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. It’s a great image. Practically cinematic. And historians are fairly confident it didn’t happen.

The problem is straightforward: the Declaration wasn’t publicly announced on July 4th. The Continental Congress voted on independence, but the first public readings of the Declaration didn’t take place until four days later, on July 8, 1776. It was on that date that Philadelphians gathered to hear the document read aloud and yes, bells around the city were reportedly rung in celebration. Whether the State House Bell was among them is genuinely unknown.

There’s an additional wrinkle: historians believe the State House steeple was in poor condition at the time, possibly too deteriorated to support bell-ringing. As John C. Paige noted in a historical study for the National Park Service, there simply is no way to confirm whether the steeple was structurally sound enough to ring the bell that day.

So where did the famous image of the bell ringing on the Fourth come from? Mostly from one man: a journalist named George Lippard. In January 1847, he published a short story in the Saturday Courier depicting an elderly bellman waiting anxiously in the steeple, doubting that Congress would have the courage to declare independence, until his grandson bursts in crying “Ring, Grandfather! Ring!” It was fiction and was presented as fiction, but it was republished repeatedly, eventually winding up in history books and school primers as if it were fact. That’s how myths work.

The Mystery of the Crack

The crack is the bell’s most defining feature, and its origin is almost as murky as the ringing story. What we know for certain is that the bell has cracked multiple times.

The first crack came almost immediately — the bell cracked during its initial testing after arriving in Philadelphia in 1752. It was judged unusable and recast twice by local metalworkers John Pass and John Stow (whose names you can still see on the bell today). Their second casting is what we look at today.

The later, more famous crack, the wide fissure visible in every photograph, developed sometime in the first half of the 19th century after roughly 90 years of use. Popular tradition long held that the bell cracked in 1835 while tolling for the funeral of Chief Justice John Marshall. It’s a great story but historians largely reject it. The evidence points more convincingly to February 1846, when the bell was rung to celebrate Washington’s Birthday. In an attempt to prevent the crack from spreading, metalworkers widened it — a repair technique of the era and ironically created the wide, distinctive fissure we recognize today. The repair didn’t hold, and the bell has been silent ever since.

The Road Trip Nobody Talks About

This is the part of the Liberty Bell’s history that tends to get overlooked in favor of the Revolutionary founding mythology. Between 1885 and 1915, the cracked bell was loaded onto railroad cars and sent on seven separate tours around the United States, stopping in cities and towns so that ordinary Americans could see it up close.

The post-Civil War tours were explicitly about national healing. After the devastation of that war, the Liberty Bell became a symbol of unity: a reminder of something Americans had once fought for together. Crowds mobbed the bell at every stop. In Biloxi, Mississippi, Jefferson Davis, the former President of the Confederacy, visited the bell and gave a speech calling for national unity. That’s a remarkable image: the Confederacy’s leader paying homage to a symbol of American liberty. Whatever you make of his sincerity, it illustrates how powerfully the bell had been woven into the country’s emotional fabric.

The 1915 tour to San Francisco was the last. By then it was clear the bell’s condition couldn’t withstand further travel, and it has stayed in Philadelphia ever since.

Movements, Meanings, and the Justice Bell

One of the most interesting things about the Liberty Bell’s history is how many different movements claimed it as their own. After abolitionists gave it its name, suffragists were next. In 1915, the Pennsylvania Woman Suffrage Association commissioned a replica called the Justice Bell, with the same inscription as the Liberty Bell but two extra words — “establish justice” — borrowed from the Preamble to the Constitution. The clapper was chained so it couldn’t ring, symbolizing women’s silenced political voice. When the 19th Amendment passed in 1920, the Justice Bell finally rang at Independence Hall. It’s now at the Washington Memorial Chapel at Valley Forge.

Later in the 20th century, civil rights activists gathered at the Liberty Bell. It became a backdrop for Cold War messaging about American freedom. During the 1960s it was a site for protests of various kinds. The bell has proven remarkably elastic as a symbol — capable of representing almost any cause that frames itself in the language of liberty.

What’s Actually True

To be fair, some important facts about the Liberty Bell are both true and underappreciated. It did ring for significant events during its functional lifetime — not just vaguely, but for specific occasions: the signing of the Constitution, and the deaths of Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and Thomas Jefferson. It was genuinely used for decades as a civic alarm clock, summoning legislators to session and citizens to public meetings.

And when the British occupied Philadelphia in 1777, Patriots really did smuggle the bell out of the city, along with other bells, and hide it in the floorboards of the Zion Reformed Church in Allentown, Pennsylvania. The concern was legitimate. British forces routinely seized metal church bells and melted them down for cannon shot. The Liberty Bell sat hidden there for nearly a year before returning to Philadelphia after the British withdrew.

The Bell We Deserve

The real lesson of the Liberty Bell’s history might be this: the gap between its legend and its reality says as much about American culture as the bell itself does. Americans in the 19th century needed a tangible symbol of their founding ideals, and the bell, already old, already cracked, already inscribed with a verse about proclaiming liberty, was right there waiting to be mythologized.

The abolitionists who named it, the fiction writer who gave it its most famous story, and the railroad men who carted it around the country in the 1880s were all, in their different ways, helping to construct a national icon that could absorb whatever freedom meant in their particular moment. The Liberty Bell is not important because it rang at a specific hour in 1776—there is little evidence that it did. It is important because Americans, over generations, chose to invest it with meaning. That’s not a cynical observation. It’s inspiring that a cracked, imperfect bell became the symbol of a cracked, imperfect republic still trying to live up to its inscription.

Image generated by the author using ChatGPT

Sources

Wikipedia – Liberty Bell: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liberty_Bell

Constitution Center – 10 Fascinating Facts About the Liberty Bell: https://constitutioncenter.org/blog/10-fascinating-facts-about-the-liberty-bell

USHistory.org – The Liberty Bell: https://www.ushistory.org/libertybell/

Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia – Liberty Bell: https://philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/essays/liberty-bell/

Visit Philadelphia – Liberty Bell Center: https://www.visitphilly.com/things-to-do/attractions/the-liberty-bell-center/

Professor Buzzkill – Liberty Bell Myths: https://professorbuzzkill.com/2016/07/07/liberty-bell-myths/

Study.com – The Liberty Bell: History & Importance: https://study.com/academy/lesson/the-liberty-bell-facts-history.html

Sky History – Debunking Famous Myths About the Declaration of Independence: https://www.history.co.uk/articles/debunking-famous-myths-about-the-declaration-of-independence

Philadelphia Visitor Center – Liberty Bell: https://www.phlvisitorcenter.com/libertybell

Mr. Local History Project – Weird Facts About the Liberty Bell: https://mrlocalhistory.org/liberty-bell/

America at 250: A Revolution Remembered, Forgotten — or Rewritten?

By John Turley

On June 1, 2026

In Commentary, History

I’m old enough to remember the 200th anniversary of the American Revolution. Bicentennial symbols were everywhere — Liberty Bells, eagles, and that ubiquitous red, white, and blue stylized five-point star logo slapped on hats, T-shirts, socks, soft drink cups, beer cans, and even a special “Spirit of ’76” edition of the Ford Mustang II. Commemorative events were springing up everywhere, and people had full-blown bicentennial fever.

The 250th anniversary is a different animal entirely. Even the official name — Semiquincentennial — sounds like something you’d need a medical degree to pronounce. But the tongue-twisting label is the least of its problems.

The bicentennial came after a decade of national trauma: Vietnam, Watergate, and the civil rights struggles had left the country battered. By 1976, most Americans were ready to feel good about themselves again, and the bicentennial became a giant, colorful celebration of “American resilience.” The 250th arrives in a different kind of trauma — one that is arguably more confusing because it comes dressed as patriotism.

A Celebration Gets Complicated

While the 250th is being marked by numerous events, commemorations, and official proclamations, it has not yet captured the national imagination the way 1976 did. The official nonpartisan U.S. Semiquincentennial Commission, established by Congress in 2016 and supported by both George W. Bush and Barack Obama as Honorary Co-Chairs, has been working toward what it calls the “largest and most inclusive” anniversary celebration in American history. But its efforts have increasingly been overshadowed — and, critics argue, undermined — by a parallel White House effort with a very different philosophy about what American history should look like.

Shortly after taking office in January 2025, President Trump signed an executive order titled “Celebrating America’s 250th Birthday,” creating his own body — Task Force 250 — to coordinate anniversary plans and promising “a grand celebration worthy of the momentous occasion.” A full year of festivities was planned, beginning on Memorial Day 2025 and running through July 4, 2026. On paper, more attention on the anniversary sounds like good news. In practice, the story is more complicated.

When “Restoring History” Means Removing It

Two months after launching his anniversary task force, Trump signed a second executive order — this one titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History” — directing Vice President Vance to eliminate what the order calls “divisive race-centered ideology” from Smithsonian museums, educational and research centers, and the National Zoo (the Zoo??). The Smithsonian, one of the world’s great repositories of American history, was accused by the president of having come “under the influence of a divisive, race-centered ideology” that portrayed “American and Western values as inherently harmful and oppressive.”

That executive order set off a chain of events that has complicated the 250th anniversary in ways the founding fathers would have found darkly ironic, given that the Revolution was, at its core, a fight against the arbitrary exercise of executive power.

At Philadelphia’s Independence National Historical Park — one of the most historically significant sites in the country — National Park Service employees abruptly removed exhibits about the nine people George Washington held in slavery while Philadelphia served as the nation’s capital. Passersby reportedly heard an employee repeating, “I’m just following orders” as the displays came down. The city of Philadelphia promptly sued the federal government, arguing that the removal violated a cooperative agreement for the site’s development.

This wasn’t an isolated incident. According to reporting from Poynter and PEN America, National Park Service employees were ordered to survey all signage and interpretive materials across the nation’s 400-plus parks and monuments, flagging anything “negative about either past or living Americans.” Exhibits about slavery, Indigenous history, women’s rights, and climate change were all swept into the review. At Fort Sumter in South Carolina — where the Civil War began — even a sign explaining the risks the site faces from rising sea levels was removed.

The Interior Department issued a November 2025 memo ordering National Park Service gift shops to remove items promoting DEI or “gender expression.” Free admission days that had previously honored Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Juneteenth were dropped; June 14 — Flag Day and President Trump’s birthday (does anyone thinks that’s a coincidence?) — was added instead.

Meanwhile, a proposed commemorative dollar coin design featured President Trump on the obverse and the words “Fight! Fight! Fight!” on the reverse — evoking the imagery from the July 2024 assassination attempt. The Commission of Fine Arts, whose members Trump dismissed in October 2025 and replaced with his own appointees, subsequently recommended the design.

The Money Problem

The nonpartisan America250 Commission hasn’t just faced ideological headwinds. It has also faced financial ones. By early 2026, the Commission had received only $25 million of its congressionally appropriated $150 million, with the remainder at risk of being redirected to Trump-aligned Freedom 250’s “Freedom Trucks” — six state-of-the-art mobile museums traveling the country telling a version of American history that aligns with the administration’s vision. Representative Bonnie Watson Coleman raised concerns about the funding diversion, though the Commission stated it had enough to continue its core programming.

What Actually Happened at Lexington and Concord

Against this backdrop, the 250th anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord on April 19, 2025, became a preview of what the full anniversary might look like. The battle reenactments drew large crowds, along with protesters carrying signs reading “No Kings” and “Resist Like It’s 1775,” explicitly drawing parallels between opposition to King George III and what they saw as autocratic tendencies in current leadership.

Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey told the crowd at the North Bridge ceremony that “we see things that would be familiar to our Revolutionary predecessors — the silencing of critics, the disappearing people from our streets, demands for unquestioned fealty.” Whether one agrees with that characterization or not, the spectacle of Americans invoking the Revolution to oppose their own government at a Revolution commemoration is at minimum historically interesting — and arguably points to the enduring vitality of Revolutionary ideals.

Historians have noted that the Revolution itself was messier and more ambiguous than either side of today’s debate wants to acknowledge. As University of South Carolina professor Woody Holton observed, most colonists in April 1775 weren’t seeking independence — they wanted better treatment within the British Empire and a return to pre-1763 arrangements. The revolution was improvised, contentious, and full of people who disagreed about its meaning even while it was happening. Sound familiar?

The Founding Fathers Were Not a Monolith

Here is what is genuinely troubling about selectively sanitizing Revolutionary history: the founders themselves would not have recognized the sanitized version. George Washington, the hero of the Revolution, held people in slavery, including at the presidential residence in Philadelphia — the very site where exhibits were just torn down. Benjamin Franklin, who helped draft the Declaration of Independence, owned enslaved people and only became an abolitionist late in his life. Thomas Jefferson wrote “all men are created equal” while holding more than 600 people in bondage over his lifetime.

Removing this history doesn’t honor the founders. It patronizes them by pretending their contradictions didn’t exist — and it patronizes us by suggesting we can’t handle the full truth. Even they recognized the contradictions. The founders were brilliant, flawed, and human. That’s what makes the Revolution worth studying.

Resistance in the Courts and in the Institutions

It’s worth noting that the administration’s efforts have met significant resistance. Federal courts have blocked some removals. Scholars, activists, and historians have pushed back forcefully. A coalition of groups filed suit in February 2026 arguing that the Interior Department’s mandate to strip historical information from national parks violated the Administrative Procedure Act. Philadelphia’s lawsuit over the Washington slavery exhibit is ongoing.

Northwestern University historian Leslie M. Harris, author of five books on American slavery, has said that no previous presidential administration has interfered with historic sites in this way, and warned of a potential long-term consequence: public distrust of government-maintained historical sites, or outright avoidance of them.

What We Can Do

I wrote earlier about a friend on the West Virginia 250th committee who told me their initial meeting accomplished nothing and, almost two years later, they’ve had not had a further meeting. They have only just in the past few weeks announced their plans for America 250. That’s disappointing, but in some ways, it underscores the larger point: the commemoration of this anniversary is going to be shaped by whoever shows up.

Here in West Virginia, we showed what’s possible when citizens take the lead. In October 2024, without any state or national organizational or financial help, the City of Point Pleasant and the West Virginia Sons of the American Revolution organized a commemoration of the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Point Pleasant — a battle many consider a precursor to the Revolution. It worked. People came. History was honored.

We can do more of that. We don’t need to live in Massachusetts to commemorate Lexington and Concord. We don’t need federal approval to mark the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the Battle of Saratoga, or the crossing of the Delaware. We don’t need the government’s permission to tell complete history — including the parts about who was left out and who fought to be included anyway.

All across the country, individuals and small groups are working to recognize the revolution. In West Virginia, we’ve organized commemorations of the Boston Tea Party, the 250th anniversary of the founding of the Continental Navy and the Continental Marines, George Washington’s Birthday, and a special America 250 Memorial Day service at the West Virginia Veterans Memorial, all without any governmental support or funding. There have been presentations at local libraries and civic groups about the lives of average people during the time of the revolution, the origin of the American flag and even demonstrations of cooking and foods from the time of the revolution. If we had waited for state or national support these activities never would have happened. Just because your event may be small doesn’t mean it’s unimportant.

The Revolution, after all, was not a government program. It was a citizen uprising.

The Stakes

The American Revolution matters to world history precisely because it planted ideas — self-governance, the rule of law, the consent of the governed, the equality of all people before the law — that were genuinely radical ideas in 1776 and remain contested in much of the world today. Those ideas were aspirational when they were written. They remain aspirational now. The gap between the ideal and the reality is not a reason to hide the history; it is the history.

If the 250th anniversary is remembered primarily as a moment when the federal government selectively curated which parts of the founding era the public was allowed to encounter, that will itself become a significant historical footnote — and not a flattering one.

It will be our great shame if we allow the commemoration of an event so significant in both American and world history to be used — by anyone, of any political stripe — to divide us rather than to strengthen our common bond. The Revolution was imperfect, contentious, and incomplete. So is the republic it created. That is not a cause for despair. It is a call to engagement and improvement.

We the people. Still the operative phrase.

Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT.

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Sources

America250 Commission — https://america250.org/
White House Freedom 250 page — https://www.whitehouse.gov/freedom250/
AASLH on the 250th — https://aaslh.org/the-250th-anniversary-and-the-road-ahead/
PBS NewsHour: A divided nation battles over the Revolution’s legacy — https://www.pbs.org/newshour/nation/250-years-after-the-start-of-the-american-revolution-a-divided-nation-battles-over-its-legacy
NPR: Trump executive order targets Smithsonian — https://www.npr.org/2025/03/27/nx-s1-5342914/smithsonian-president-trump-executive-order
The American Prospect: Whitening American History — https://prospect.org/2026/02/23/whitening-america-black-history-trump-slavery-dei-philadelphia/
Poynter: Trump reshaping Black history — https://www.poynter.org/fact-checking/2026/trump-administration-altering-black-history/
PEN America: Purging history from national parks — https://pen.org/purging-history-from-national-parks/
Courthouse News: Groups sue over park history removals — https://www.courthousenews.com/trump-administration-accused-of-erasing-history-from-national-parks/
Wikipedia: Semiquincentennial coinage — https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Semiquincentennial_coinage

The Memorial Day Nobody Taught You About

By John Turley

On May 27, 2026

In History

Library of Congress Photography Collection

Here’s a story that most Americans never learned in school and it’s one worth knowing.

When we think about Memorial Day, we typically picture a date set by Congress, a general’s order, or some official act of government. What we don’t picture is a group of newly freed Black Americans in post-Civil War Charleston, South Carolina, quietly reburying the dead and making sure they weren’t forgotten. But that’s exactly what happened — and it may be the closest thing we have to the true origin of Memorial Day.

A Racetrack Turned Prison Turned Cemetery

Before the Civil War, the Washington Race Course and Jockey Club in Charleston was the kind of place where the Southern planter class went to be seen — horse racing, socializing, a symbol of antebellum wealth. By the war’s final year, the Confederate Army had repurposed it into something far grimmer: an open-air prison for captured Union soldiers.

The conditions were brutal. More than 257 Union prisoners of war died there from disease and exposure, and when the Confederates abandoned Charleston in early 1865, they left the bodies in a hastily dug mass grave in the infield. It was an ugly end for men who had fought to hold the country together.

What Happened Next Was Extraordinary

Less than a month after the Confederacy surrendered, a group of roughly two dozen Black volunteers did something remarkable. They went to that racetrack, exhumed the bodies one by one, and gave each man a proper individual burial. Then they built a ten-foot white fence around the entire site. Above the entrance, they hung a hand-painted sign that read: “Martyrs of the Race Course.”

They didn’t stop there. Together with Black schoolchildren, mutual aid societies, Union troops, Black ministers, and white northern missionaries, the community organized a formal ceremony for May 1, 1865. Nearly ten thousand people showed up — mostly freedmen — and most of them brought flowers.

The New York Tribune was there to cover it, describing the scene as “a procession of friends and mourners as South Carolina and the United States never saw before,” with gravesites that looked like “one mass of flowers.”

Why It Matters

Historian David W. Blight, who uncovered this story in a Harvard archive in the late 1990s, framed the significance of that day in striking terms: “What you have there is Black Americans recently freed from slavery announcing to the world with their flowers, their feet, and their songs what the war had been about. What they basically were creating was the Independence Day of a Second American Revolution.”

That’s not a small claim. And yet it’s grounded in documented newspaper accounts, archival records, and careful historical research. Blight laid it all out in his 2001 book Race and Reunion: The Civil War in American Memory — a work that brought this story back from near-total obscurity.

The moment that perhaps best captures the weight of this rediscovery came after Blight gave a talk at the Smithsonian. An older Black woman approached him afterward. “You mean that story is true?” she asked. “I grew up in Charleston, and my granddaddy used to tell us this story of a parade at the old racetrack, and we never knew whether to believe him or not.”

How the Story Got Buried

The Charleston ceremony didn’t disappear by accident. During the post-Reconstruction era, groups like the United Daughters of the Confederacy worked systematically to reshape public memory of the Civil War. Books were rewritten, narratives were shifted, and the Black-led origins of what would become Memorial Day were quietly erased from the historical record. White organizers were credited in their place.

This wasn’t unusual. It fits a much broader pattern in American history in which Black contributions to the nation’s military and civic life — from the Revolutionary War through both World Wars — were minimized or simply left out of the story that got told in schools and textbooks.

A Note on Competing Claims

It’s worth being fair about the history here: towns like Waterloo, New York, and Columbus, Georgia also claim early Memorial Day commemorations, and historians continue to debate which event was truly “the first.” Waterloo, in fact, holds the official congressional designation as the birthplace of Memorial Day.

But the Charleston ceremony of May 1, 1865, stands as one of the most thoroughly documented early observances — and arguably the most meaningful in its context. What makes the Charleston ceremony especially significant is that it linked remembrance of the war dead directly to emancipation and Black citizenship. To the participants, honoring fallen Union soldiers also meant honoring the destruction of slavery itself. It was organized by people who had the most personal stake in honoring those deaths: the men and women who had been enslaved, and who understood better than anyone what those Union soldiers had given their lives for.

The Bottom Line

Memorial Day didn’t begin with an act of Congress. One of its earliest and most powerful expressions came from a community of recently freed Black Americans in Charleston, South Carolina, who spent two weeks exhuming the dead, burying them properly, and organizing a ceremony that ten thousand people attended.

They did it with flowers, hymns, and their presence — and then history buried the story much as the Confederates had buried the soldiers. It took a box of old newspaper clippings in a Harvard archive to bring it back.

That’s worth remembering, too.

Sources

History.com — One of the First Memorial Days Was Held by Freed Slaves

African American Registry — The First American Memorial Day Is Commemorated

Time Magazine — The Forgotten Black History of How Memorial Day Started

The Black Wall Street Times — The True Story of Memorial Day

EURweb — The First Memorial Day Was in Charleston, Led by Freed African Americans

New York Historical — The First Memorial Day with David W. Blight

SDARJ — Black History of Memorial Day

Charleston ASALH — Decoration Day & Charleston’s Gullah Community

Benjamin Franklin and Slavery: A Complicated Legacy

By John Turley

On May 7, 2026

In History, Politics

Few figures in American history are as celebrated — or as contradictory — as Benjamin Franklin. Founding Father, inventor, diplomat, and philosopher. Franklin is remembered for just about everything except the uncomfortable truth that he was also, for much of his life, a slave owner. His relationship with slavery is a study in the slow, painful moral evolution of a brilliant but flawed man — one who spent decades benefiting from the institution he would spend his final years fighting to abolish.
The Slaveowner
Franklin was a slave owner beginning around 1735, and he owned enslaved people until at least 1785 when he freed two slaves after his return from France. Over the course of his life, there were up to seven named slaves in the Franklin household, including Peter, his wife Jemima, their son Othello, and George, John, and King.
Franklin’s complicity in slavery extended beyond personal ownership. As editor of the Pennsylvania Gazette, Franklin benefited financially from advertisements for runaway slaves and slave auctions that were paid for by slave owners and traders. He also used his printing press to publish content that supported the slave trade and, as a British colonial agent, sought to have the British government accept Georgia’s slave code. In short, slavery wasn’t just a private matter for Franklin — it was woven into his professional and financial life. At the same time, he printed Quaker antislavery tracts, a sign that his professional role placed him at the intersection of both pro‑slavery commerce and early antislavery movements.
What little we know about how Franklin treated his enslaved people comes mostly from letters and financial records. In part this is because northern slaveholders kept fewer detailed records of slave families, births, and deaths than large southern planters. His enslaved servants lived within his household and were integrated into domestic routines, a common arrangement in urban slavery that still left them legally and socially unfree.
When Franklin traveled to London in 1757, he brought two enslaved men, Peter and King, who lived and worked at 36 Craven Street. Peter remained with Franklin until their departure in 1762, but King ran away sometime in 1758 and was later found living in Suffolk, having been taken in by a Christian woman who taught him to read and write. The fact that King fled at the first opportunity tells its own story about the nature of slavery, whatever Franklin’s personal demeanor may have been.
His Evolving Written Views
Franklin’s early writings on slavery were at best ambivalent and at worst openly racist. In his 1751 essay “Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind,” Franklin argued that slave labor wasn’t economically efficient in part because enslaved people pilfered from their owners, writing that “almost every Slave [being] by Nature a Thief.” His concern about slavery in this period was largely economic rather than moral — he worried that it would hurt poor white laborers and enriched a wealthy elite, not that it was a profound violation of human dignity.
By the 1760s, something began to shift. His perspective began to change following a 1759 visit arranged by his friend Samuel Johnson to one of Dr. Bray’s schools for Black children. He also met Anthony Benezet, who had started a school in Philadelphia and would later co-found the Abolition Society. By 1763, Franklin wrote that African “shortcomings” were not inherent but came from lack of education, slavery, and negative environments — and that he saw no difference in learning ability between African and white children.
While in London in the 1760s, he supported black education projects and in 1770 anonymously published “Conversations between an Englishman, a Scotchman, and an American,” a piece that criticized both the slave trade and the broader institution. In 1782 he circulated “A Thought Concerning the Sugar Islands,” condemning the African wars that fed the trade, the horrors of the Middle Passage, and the “numbers that die under the severities of slavery,” arguing that even sugar was morally tainted by blood.
By the late 1780s, Franklin’s language had become openly abolitionist. In 1787 he signed a public antislavery appeal declaring that the Creator had made “of one flesh, all the children of men,” and in 1789–1790 he wrote essays insisting that slavery was an “atrocious debasement of human nature.” He also argued that formerly enslaved people needed education, moral instruction, and employment to make the transition from bondage to full participation in civil society.
This was a meaningful intellectual leap for the era. Franklin was moving from a view of enslaved people as economic units toward recognizing their common humanity and the role that oppression itself played in creating the inequalities he had previously attributed to nature.
Franklin the Constitutional Convention and the Three-Fifths Compromise
By the time of the 1787 Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia, Franklin. then 81 years old, was a delegate from Pennsylvania. The Three-Fifths Compromise — which counted enslaved people as three-fifths of a person for purposes of congressional representation and taxation — was one of the most contentious issues at the Convention. The compromise was formally proposed by delegate James Wilson and seconded by Charles Pinckney.
Franklin’s specific role in the Three-Fifths Compromise itself is limited. His more direct contribution to the Convention’s structural debates was to the Great Compromise about proportional representation and spending rather than the slavery count.
Notably, just weeks before the Convention began, Franklin signed a public antislavery appeal stating that “the Creator of the world” had made “of one flesh, all the children of men.” Yet he ultimately signed a Constitution that embedded protections for slavery, including the Three-Fifths Compromise and a provision preventing Congress from banning the slave trade until 1808. Franklin’s acquiescence reflected his broader pragmatic calculation, shared by many Northern founders, that preserving the Union required compromise with the slaveholding South, even at a terrible moral cost. This is partly speculative — Franklin left few direct written statements about his reasoning on this specific tradeoff at the Convention.
The Abolitionist
Whatever compromises Franklin made at Philadelphia, the years that followed saw him embrace abolitionism with increasing conviction and urgency. In 1787, he began serving as President of the Pennsylvania Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery — the oldest abolitionist organization in the country — which had originally formed in 1775 and was reorganized and incorporated by Pennsylvania in 1789.
In 1789, Franklin wrote and published several essays supporting abolition, including a public address dated November 9th of that year in which he called slavery an “atrocious debasement of human nature.” He called for practical support for emancipated people, including education and employment — ideas that were radical for the time and would remain largely unaddressed for generations.
His final public act was perhaps his most consequential. On February 3, 1790, Franklin signed a petition to the first Congress on behalf of the Abolition Society, asking lawmakers to “devise means for removing the Inconsistency from the Character of the American People” and to “promote mercy and justice toward this distressed Race.” The petition was immediately denounced by pro-slavery congressmen and referred to a committee, which ultimately concluded that the Constitution prevented Congress from acting on the matter until 1808.
Franklin died in April 1790, just weeks after these debates, leaving a legacy that combined early complicity in slavery with later, forceful advocacy for abolition and Black education. As part of his will, he directed all remaining enslaved people in his household be freed upon his death, although it is unclear if he still owned slaves at the time and this may have been a symbolic declaration that he hoped others would follow. His life illustrates both the pervasiveness of slavery in colonial America — even among its most famous reformers — and the possibility, however belated, of moral and political transformation on the issue.
What to Make of It All
Franklin’s association with slavery resists easy conclusions. He spent roughly four and a half decades owning enslaved people, profiting from the slave trade through his newspaper, and diplomatically defending slavery when it served colonial interests. His evolution toward abolitionism was real, but it was also late — and driven partly by visits to schools for Black children and Quaker friendships rather than a spontaneous moral awakening.
At the same time, his final years represent one of the most prominent Founding Fathers publicly and passionately challenging the institution while other contemporaries remained silent or actively defended it. As historian David Waldstreicher has cautioned, Franklin’s antislavery credentials have sometimes been “remembered backwards” and exaggerated — but that doesn’t mean the later evolution wasn’t genuine.
What Franklin’s story offers isn’t a story of redemption so much as a realistic portrait of moral growth under the weight of self-interest, social norms, and political pragmatism. He was, as one observer put it, a man who showed himself to be “thoughtful, open, teachable” — eventually. The tragedy is how long it took, how few followed his lead, and how much damage was done in the meantime.

Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT.

Sources:
                Benjamin Franklin House – Franklin and Slavery
https://benjaminfranklinhouse.org/education/benjamin-franklin-and-slavery/

                Benjamin Franklin House – The Philadelphia Household 1735–1790
https://benjaminfranklinhouse.org/franklin-and-slavery-the-philadelphia-household-1735-1790/

                Online Library of Liberty – Benjamin Franklin and Slavery, Part One
https://oll.libertyfund.org/publications/reading-room/2023-07-05-ealy-franklin-slavery-part-one

                Benjamin Franklin Historical Society – Slavery and the Abolition Society
http://www.benjamin-franklin-history.org/slavery-abolition-society/

                National Archives – Benjamin Franklin’s Anti-Slavery Petitions to Congress
https://www.archives.gov/legislative/features/franklin

                Penn & Slavery Project – Benjamin Franklin
https://pennandslaveryproject.archives.upenn.edu/2025/07/09/benjamin-franklin/

                Commonplace: The Journal of Early American Life – Benjamin Franklin, Slavery, and the Founders
https://commonplace.online/article/benjamin-franklin-slavery/

                U.S. History – Ben Franklin and the Vexing Question of Race in America
https://www.ushistory.org/franklin/essays/franklin_race.htm

                Wikipedia – Benjamin Franklin
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Franklin

                Wikipedia – Three-Fifths Compromise
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three-fifths_Compromise

                Britannica – Three-Fifths Compromise
https://www.britannica.com/topic/three-fifths-compromise

                U.S. Senate – Equal State Representation and the Great Compromise
https://www.senate.gov/about/origins-foundations/senate-and-constitution/equal-state-representation.htm

                Wikipedia – Connecticut Compromise
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Connecticut_Compromise

                Teaching American History – The Constitutional Convention: The Three-Fifths Clause
https://teachingamericanhistory.org/document/the-constitutional-convention-the-three-fifths-clause/

From Minstrel Stage to State Law: The History of Jim Crow

By John Turley

On April 27, 2026

In History

Source: Library of Congress via Wikimedia Commons, public domain

Few phrases in American history carry as much weight as Jim Crow. It is shorthand for a century of systematic racial oppression — separate schools, separate water fountains, disenfranchisement and even terror. But the term itself has an origin that is both surprising and telling: it began not in a courthouse or a legislature, but on a minstrel stage in the 1820s, as the punchline of a song-and-dance act performed by a white man in blackface.

Jump Jim Crow: The Birth of a Slur

The story starts with Thomas Dartmouth “Daddy” Rice, a struggling white actor from the Lower East Side of Manhattan who would go on to become one of the most famous entertainers of his era. Around 1828, Rice developed a stage character he called Jim Crow — a singing, dancing, shuffling caricature of a Black man, performed in blackface makeup made from burnt cork and wearing ragged clothes. The precise inspiration for the character is disputed and has, as historians put it, been lost to legend. Rice claimed to have based it on a disabled enslaved stableman he observed singing and dancing to amuse himself, though the time, place, and truth of this claim have never been verified.

What is not disputed is the impact. Rice’s “Jump Jim Crow” routine was a sensation. By 1832 he had turned the character into his signature act, touring from Louisville to Cincinnati to Philadelphia to New York, playing to sold-out houses. He eventually took the show to London and Dublin, where audiences were equally enthralled. Rice became known as “Jim Crow Rice,” the self-proclaimed “Father of American Minstrelsy.”

The character Rice created was deliberately degrading — a dim-witted, lazy, buffoonish caricature built to confirm the worst racial stereotypes white audiences held about Black Americans and to reinforce a racial hierarchy that portrayed Black people as naturally suited to servitude and exclusion from the rights of citizenship. He and his imitators spread these images across the country. By 1838, the term “Jim Crow” had crossed from the stage into everyday speech as a collective racial slur for Black people. The minstrel show had given American racism a catchy name.

It is worth pausing on the cultural mechanics of what minstrelsy did. It was not just entertainment — it was propaganda. Rice and his many imitators, including the wildly popular Christy Minstrels (for whom Stephen Foster wrote songs), systematically presented Black Americans as subhuman, unworthy of social participation, and fundamentally inferior and ridiculous figures. These depictions played to a stereotype that reinforced racial prejudice among white audiences and softened their moral resistance to segregation and violence long before those policies were ever written into law.

Reconstruction and Its Violent Undoing

The Civil War ended in 1865 with the abolition of slavery, and the Reconstruction era that followed was a genuine, if incomplete, experiment in racial equality. The 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments abolished slavery, granted citizenship, and extended voting rights to Black men. For a brief window, Black Americans served in state legislatures and held federal office across the South.

That window slammed shut in 1877, when President Rutherford B. Hayes withdrew the last federal troops from the South as part of a political compromise. Southern white Democrats — calling themselves “Redeemers” — systematically retook their state legislatures using violence, voter fraud, and paramilitary terror groups like the Ku Klux Klan, the White League, and the Red Shirts. Republican officeholders were run out of town or worse. Black voters were lynched as a warning to others.

Once back in power, Southern legislatures began passing the laws that would become known as Jim Crow — a name borrowed directly from Rice’s minstrel slur. The term had traveled from the stage to common speech and then into the legal codebook and reflected the same racist assumptions embodied in the minstrel character: that Black Americans were inherently inferior and should occupy a subordinate social and legal position.

Beginning with Florida in 1887, states required railroads to maintain separate cars for Black and white passengers. Similar laws quickly spread segregation to schools, restaurants, hospitals, theaters, cemeteries, parks, waiting rooms, and virtually every other point of public contact between the races. Many facilities were marked with signs reading “White” and “Colored” to emphasize the exclusion of Black citizens. The laws varied by state but shared a common goal—racial separation and political exclusion.

Plessy v. Ferguson: The Supreme Court Blesses Segregation

In 1892, a group of Black and mixed-race citizens in New Orleans organized a deliberate legal challenge to Louisiana’s Separate Car Act. They recruited Homer Plessy — a man who was seven-eighths white but legally classified as Black under Louisiana law — to board a whites-only train car and refuse to move. He was arrested on cue, and his case wound its way through the court system to the United States Supreme Court.

In Plessy v. Ferguson (1896), the Court ruled 7-1 that racial segregation was constitutional as long as the separate facilities were nominally equal. The lone dissenter, Justice John Harlan, stated that the constitution should be color blind and warned prophetically that the decision would prove as pernicious as the Dred Scott ruling. He was right. The “separate but equal” doctrine became the legal foundation for a total apartheid system across the South — and, in many respects, well beyond it.

In practice, of course, the facilities were never equal. Black schools were chronically underfunded, with inferior buildings, used textbooks, and far lower teacher salaries. Black hospitals, where they existed at all, were understaffed and under-equipped. “Separate but equal” was a legal fiction that everyone understood as a polite cover for second-class citizenship.

Between 1890 and 1910, ten of the eleven former Confederate states rewrote constitutions or passed amendments to systematically disenfranchise Black voters through poll taxes, literacy tests administered by white registrars, grandfather clauses, and outright violent intimidation. African Americans who had briefly held political power during Reconstruction effectively disappeared from public life.

The Long Arm of Jim Crow: Life Under the System

For the better part of a century, Jim Crow was not merely a set of legal rules — it was a total social order enforced by custom, economic pressure, and the ever-present threat of violence. A Black man who looked a white man in the eye too long, or failed to step off the sidewalk, or was accused of anything at all, could find himself facing a lynch mob. Between Reconstruction and World War II, thousands of Black Americans — men, women and even children — were lynched, often publicly and festively, with onlookers smiling while posing for pictures with the victim. Law enforcement often did nothing and at times even actively participated.

The Great Migration — the mass movement of Black Americans from the South to Northern and Midwestern cities beginning around 1910 — was driven in large part by Jim Crow. Millions fled to Chicago, Detroit, New York, and Los Angeles in search of something approaching equal treatment. What they often found instead was a northern variant: informal segregation through redlining (systematic denial of mortgages in Black neighborhoods), discriminatory hiring, and residential segregation enforced by real estate covenants and social pressure.

The Legal Dismantling: Brown, the Civil Rights Act, and the Voting Rights Act

The legal edifice of Jim Crow began to crack in 1954, when the Supreme Court issued its unanimous decision in Brown v. Board of Education. Directly overturning Plessy, the Court held that segregated schools were inherently unequal and unconstitutional. The ruling did not end segregation — Southern states resisted fiercely, and desegregation proceeded at a glacial pace well into the 1970s — but Brown pulled the legal rug out from under “separate but equal.”

The civil rights movement of the late 1950s and early 1960s — marked by sit-ins, freedom rides, the Birmingham campaign, the March on Washington, and countless acts of individual courage in the face of brutal repression — built the political pressure that forced legislative action. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibited discrimination in public accommodations and employment. The Voting Rights Act of 1965 dismantled the machinery of Black disenfranchisement in the South, sending federal examiners into states with histories of discrimination to ensure that Black citizens could actually register and vote. By 1965 the majority of the formal Jim Crow laws had been overturned.

The Vestiges: Jim Crow’s Long Shadow

Ending Jim Crow legally is not the same as ending its consequences — or, as some argue, its functional successors. Legal scholar Michelle Alexander, in her landmark 2010 book The New Jim Crow, argues that mass incarceration has emerged as a new system of racialized social control. Black Americans are incarcerated at roughly five times the rate of white Americans. A felony conviction — often stemming from drug offenses prosecuted far more aggressively in Black communities despite similar rates of drug use across races — carries a cascade of legal disabilities: loss of voting rights in most states, exclusion from public housing and many jobs, and ineligibility for certain federal benefits. Nearly 30% of Black men carry felony records.

The racial wealth gap stands as perhaps the most stubborn vestige of a century of legal exclusion. The median Black family holds roughly one-tenth the wealth of the median white family — a gap driven not by individual choices but by generations of legally enforced exclusion from homeownership, inheritance, and wealth-building opportunities. Redlining — the systematic denial of mortgages in Black neighborhoods by federally-backed banks — was official federal policy from the 1930s through the 1960s and left neighborhood segregation patterns that persist visibly today.

Voting rights remain contested territory. The Supreme Court’s 2013 ruling in Shelby County v. Holder gutted the preclearance requirement of the Voting Rights Act, which had required states with histories of discrimination to get federal approval before changing election laws. Since then, a wave of new restrictions — voter ID laws, aggressive voter roll purges, reduced polling locations, and aggressive felony disenfranchisement — has fallen disproportionately on Black, Latino, and Indigenous voters. As of April 2024, 19 states require photo identification to vote, a requirement critics note functions as a modern poll tax for those who lack access to the required documents.

Residential segregation, too, endures. American neighborhoods and, by extension, their schools remain largely segregated by race — a product not of individual choice but of policies like redlining, racially restrictive housing covenants, and “white flight” that were actively promoted by governments at every level. These patterns mean that school quality, which is largely tied to local property tax revenues, continues to diverge sharply by race.

Conclusion

The arc of Jim Crow runs from the absurd to the tragic: from a white comedian in burnt-cork makeup doing a shuffling dance routine, to a legal apparatus that stripped millions of Americans of their dignity, their rights, and their lives for a century. The name itself tells you what the architects of segregation thought of their project — it was always a contemptuous slap in the face of Black Americans.

While the formal system was legally dismantled between 1954 and 1965 — which is rightly understood as a profound achievement — the legal end of Jim Crow is not the same as justice, and it is not the same as equality. The wealth gap, the incarceration gap, the voting access gap, and the education gap all bear the fingerprints of a system that successfully kept Black Americans subordinate for generations.

Understanding Jim Crow fully requires tracing it from its shameful origins in a minstrel song, through its deadly flowering as a legal regime, to its present-day aftereffects. The name may have disappeared from the law books, but the consequences have not and some critics of the current administration see the dismantling of DEI as an indirect form of Jim Crow revival or neo-segregation. They believe that race-neutral language is being used to reproduce racial inequality without openly naming race. This is sometimes described this as “Jim Crow 2.0” or “colorblind Jim Crow” and should be no more acceptable than its more blatant ancestor.

Sources

1. Wikipedia — Thomas D. Rice: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_D._Rice

2. Wikipedia — Jim Crow (Character): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Crow_(character)

3. Wikipedia — Jump Jim Crow: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jump_Jim_Crow

4. Jim Crow Museum, Ferris State University — Who Was Jim Crow?: https://jimcrowmuseum.ferris.edu/who/index.htm

5. Jim Crow Museum, Ferris State University — The Origins of Jim Crow: https://jimcrowmuseum.ferris.edu/origins.htm

6. Britannica — What Is the Origin of the Term “Jim Crow”?: https://www.britannica.com/story/what-is-the-origin-of-the-term-jim-crow

7. Britannica — Jim Crow Law: https://www.britannica.com/event/Jim-Crow-law

8. National Archives — Plessy v. Ferguson (1896): https://www.archives.gov/milestone-documents/plessy-v-ferguson

9. Wikipedia — Plessy v. Ferguson: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plessy_v._Ferguson

10. Wikipedia — Jim Crow Laws: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Crow_laws

11. PBS — Jim Crow & Plessy v. Ferguson: https://www.pbs.org/tpt/slavery-by-another-name/themes/jim-crow/

12. Howard University School of Law — Reconstruction and Jim Crow Eras: https://library.law.howard.edu/civilrightshistory/blackrights/jimcrow

13. American Battlefield Trust — The Jim Crow Era: https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/jim-crow-era

14. Michelle Alexander — The New Jim Crow (Introduction Excerpt): https://newjimcrow.com/about/excerpt-from-the-introduction

15. Economic Policy Institute — Voter Suppression Rooted in Racism: https://www.epi.org/publication/rooted-racism-voter-suppression/

16. American Academy of Arts and Sciences — Somewhere Between Jim Crow and Post-Racialism: https://www.amacad.org/publication/daedalus/somewhere-between-jim-crow-post-racialism

17. Yale Macmillan — History of Minstrel Shows and Jim Crow: https://macmillan.yale.edu/glc/history-minstrel-shows-and-jim-crow

The Accidental Footnote: Heel Spurs, the Vietnam Draft, and American Inequality

By John Turley

On April 17, 2026

In Commentary, History, Medicine, Politics

If you’ve ever winced taking your first steps out of bed in the morning, you may have already made an involuntary acquaintance with heel spurs — or more precisely, with the condition that often travels with them. The term itself sounds alarming, and for a brief but colorful stretch of American political history, it became something far more charged than a footnote to podiatry. But before we get to the politics, it’s worth understanding what a heel spur actually is, because the medical reality is both more mundane and more complicated than the caricature.

What Exactly Is a Heel Spur?
A heel spur is a small bony outgrowth — technically called a calcaneal spur — that extends from the underside of the heel bone (the calcaneus). It forms at the spot where the plantar fascia — the thick ligament running the length of your foot from heel to toe — attaches to the heel bone. The spur is not, despite what the name implies, a sharp spike. It is typically smooth and rounded, though it can still cause irritation if it presses into surrounding soft tissue.

The image depicts a comparison between a healthy foot and one with a prominent foot ulcer, highlighting the condition's visible effects.

AI-generated content may be incorrect.

Heel spurs affect about 10% of the population, making them one of the more common foot conditions around, though most people who have one don’t know it. The spur develops gradually — usually over months or even years — as the body deposits calcium in response to chronic stress at that heel attachment point. Think of it less as damage and more as your skeleton’s attempt at reinforcement.

What Causes Them?
The underlying driver is repetitive mechanical stress on the foot. Heel spurs are particularly associated with strains on foot muscles and ligaments, stretching of the plantar fascia, and repeated small tears in the membrane covering the heel bone. Athletes who do a lot of running and jumping are especially prone.

But you don’t need to be an elite runner to develop one. Walking gait problems — particularly overpronation, where the foot rolls inward — place uneven stress on the heel with each step. Worn-out or poorly fitted shoes, which fail to absorb shock or support the arch, compound the problem. Obesity increases the mechanical load on the heel. Occupations that require prolonged standing or walking on hard surfaces put the plantar fascia under constant tension. And as people age, tendons and ligaments lose their elasticity, making the tissues more vulnerable to micro-tears and the subsequent bony repair response.

Heel spurs are also closely connected to a condition most people have heard of: plantar fasciitis. The two are related a but not identical. Plantar fasciitis is inflammation of the plantar fascia itself, usually from overuse. A heel spur can develop as a downstream consequence of that inflammation — the body lays down extra bone in response to the ongoing stress at the fascia’s attachment point.

Symptoms — or the Lack Thereof
Here’s the part that surprises most people: the majority of heel spurs cause no symptoms at all, and many are discovered incidentally on X-rays taken for other reasons. Only about 5% of heel spurs are estimated to be symptomatic.

When a heel spur does produce symptoms, the experience is heavily intertwined with plantar fasciitis. The classic description is a sharp, stabbing pain on the bottom of the foot first thing in the morning, or after any prolonged rest. Many people compare it to stepping on a tack. Paradoxically, this pain often eases somewhat after walking around for a few minutes, only to return after extended time on the feet or after another rest. It’s that “worse in the morning” quality that tends to be the giveaway.

Other symptoms, when present, can include localized swelling, warmth, and tenderness along the front of the heel, as well as increased sensitivity on the underside of the foot. It’s worth noting that the pain associated with a heel spur is not generally thought to come from the bony spur itself, but from the irritation it causes in the surrounding soft tissue — tendons, ligaments, and bursae.

How Is It Diagnosed?
Diagnosis typically begins with a physical exam. Your doctor or podiatrist will ask about when the pain started, what activities preceded it, and what makes it better or worse. They’ll examine your foot for tenderness at specific points, assess your range of motion, and check foot alignment and press on key areas to locate the source of pain.

Imaging confirms the picture. An X-ray can clearly show the bony spur and is the most commonly used test. That said, the size of the spur on an X-ray doesn’t necessarily correspond to how much pain a patient is experiencing — a small spur can be quite painful while a large one may cause no trouble at all. In more complex cases, an MRI may be ordered to assess the soft tissues more closely and evaluate whether plantar fasciitis or another condition is also in play.

Treatment Options
The reassuring news is that the vast majority of cases resolve without surgery. More than 90% of patients improve with nonsurgical treatment. The catch is that conservative management requires patience — improvement typically takes weeks, and more stubborn cases can take months.

The cornerstone of treatment is rest and reducing the activities that provoke pain. This doesn’t necessarily mean completely stopping exercise; low-impact alternatives like swimming, cycling, or rowing allow you to stay active while giving the heel a break from impact. Icing the bottom of the foot after activity helps manage inflammation. Over-the-counter anti-inflammatory medications like ibuprofen or naproxen can provide relief, though they’re intended for short-term use.

Footwear matters enormously. Supportive shoes with good arch support, cushioning, and a slight heel rise reduce the strain on the plantar fascia. Custom orthotics with molded insoles designed to redistribute pressure across the foot are often recommended, particularly for people with gait abnormalities or flat feet. Physical therapy can be part of the treatment plan, focusing on stretching the calf muscles and plantar fascia, strengthening the foot’s intrinsic muscles, and correcting biomechanical issues.

For cases that don’t respond to these initial measures, the next tier of treatment includes corticosteroid injections to reduce inflammation at the spur site, and extracorporeal shockwave therapy — a non-invasive procedure that uses sound waves to stimulate healing in chronically inflamed tissue. Surgery is reserved for the minority of cases where conservative treatment fails after nine to twelve months. Possible complications include nerve pain, infection, scarring, and — with plantar fascia release — the risk of foot instability or stress fracture. Most orthopedic surgeons regard surgery as a last resort.

Are Heel Spurs Debilitating?
For most people, the honest answer is: no. Heel spurs are a common condition with a favorable prognosis, especially with early diagnosis and appropriate management. Many people live with heel spurs for years without ever knowing it, and even those who develop pain typically find substantial relief with conservative treatment within four to eight weeks.
That said, the pain at its worst — particularly in conjunction with plantar fasciitis — can be genuinely disruptive to daily life. Athletes may find their training significantly limited. People who spend long hours on their feet at work may struggle with sustained discomfort. And a small percentage of patients do end up with prolonged, treatment-resistant pain that affects mobility. So, the more accurate framing might be: heel spurs have the potential to be significantly uncomfortable and functionally limiting during flare-ups, but with proper treatment most people recover well and return to normal activity.

Heel Spurs and the Vietnam-Era Draft
Which brings us to an improbable chapter in heel spur history. During the Vietnam War era, heel spurs became — for at least one famous case — a ticket out of military service. Understanding how that worked requires a brief detour into the draft system of the 1960s and 1970s, and what it meant to receive a medical deferment.
According to the National Archives, of the roughly 27 million American men eligible for military service between 1964 and 1973, about 15 million were granted deferments — mostly for education, and some for mental or physical problems — while only 2,215,000 were actually drafted into service—another eight million volunteered. Some of those who later served had previously had deferments. The system was sprawling, complex, and — as was widely acknowledged even at the time — deeply unequal.
Roughly 60% of draft-eligible American men took some sort of action to avoid military conscription. There were many routes: college deferments, fatherhood, conscientious objector status (170,000 men received those alone), National Guard enlistment, and medical exemptions. Medical deferments covered a wide range of conditions — from serious chronic illness to conditions that, in a different context, most people would consider minor. Flat feet, poor eyesight, asthma, and yes, bone spurs all appeared on the list of potentially disqualifying ailments.
The system was known to favor men with access to money, education, and well-connected physicians. American forces in Vietnam were 55% working-class and 25% poor — reflecting those who didn’t have the means to navigate the deferment labyrinth. A working-class kid from rural West Virginia was far more likely to end up in the Mekong Delta than the son of a New York real estate developer.

The Most Famous Heel Spur in American History
Which leads, inevitably, to Donald Trump. As confirmed by Selective Service records obtained and reported by multiple news outlets, Trump received five Vietnam-era draft deferments — four for college attendance at Fordham and the Wharton School, and a fifth in 1968, recorded as a medical deferment for bone spurs in his heels. The medical classification left him disqualified for military service.

The circumstances surrounding the diagnosis have been contested ever since. Reporting by the New York Times included accounts from the daughters of a Queens podiatrist named Larry Braunstein, who alleged that their father had provided or vouched for the diagnosis as a professional favor to Trump’s father, Fred Trump — a landlord to whom Braunstein reportedly owed a debt of gratitude. Trump’s former lawyer Michael Cohen also testified that Trump had admitted to fabricating the injury. Trump himself has maintained that the diagnosis was legitimate, stating that a doctor “gave me a letter — a very strong letter — on the heels.” The underlying medical records that would resolve the dispute are, conveniently, not publicly available; most individual Selective Service medical records from that era were subsequently destroyed.

It’s worth noting that Trump’s pattern — using legal channels, including a medical deferment of questionable validity, to avoid Vietnam service — was not unique to him. Historians have pointed out that numerous prominent figures on both sides of the political aisle received deferments of various kinds, including Joe Biden (asthma), Dick Cheney (student deferments), Bill Clinton (navigated the ROTC system), and George W. Bush (National Guard). The heel spur episode became politically charged in part because of Trump’s later hawkish rhetoric and his outspokenness in questioning the military service of others — most notably Senator John McCain, who spent years as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam.

How Many People Got Heel Spur Deferments?
This is where the historical record hits a hard wall. No reliable statistics exist specifically for heel spur deferments. The Selective Service tracked broad categories — student deferments, hardship deferments, conscientious objector status, medical disqualifications — but it did not publish a breakdown by specific diagnosis, and most individual medical records from that era no longer exist.

What we can say is that bone spurs were a recognized medical disqualifier under Selective Service regulations, that medical deferments broadly were a commonly used — and commonly abused — avenue for avoiding service, and that the process was heavily influenced by access to sympathetic physicians. A man with means, connections, and a cooperative podiatrist had options that a man without those resources did not.

The honest answer, then, is that we don’t know how many men received deferments citing heel spurs specifically, and we almost certainly never will. The data either wasn’t tracked at that level of granularity or was long since destroyed. What we do know is that the condition became, for a time, a lens through which Americans examined something much larger: who serves, who doesn’t, and whether the systems meant to govern those decisions are applied fairly.

For most people, a heel spur is a manageable, if annoying, footnote in the story of their health. For at least one person, it became a footnote in the history of American politics.

Personal Note: I have heel spurs; I wish I’d known about them in 1967.

Images generated by author using AI.

Medical Sources
Cleveland Clinic — Heel Spurs overview
https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/21965-heel-spurs
WebMD — Heel Spur Causes, Symptoms, Treatments, and Surgery
https://www.webmd.com/pain-management/heel-spurs-pain-causes-symptoms-treatments
Hackensack Meridian Health — Bone Spurs in the Heel: Symptoms and Recovery
https://www.hackensackmeridianhealth.org/en/healthier-you/2024/01/02/bone-spurs-in-the-heel-symptoms-and-recovery
OrthoArkansas — Heel Spurs
https://www.orthoarkansas.com/heel-spurs-orthoarkansas/
EmergeOrtho — Heel Bone Spurs: Causes, Symptoms, Treatment
https://emergeortho.com/news/heel-bone-spurs/
American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons — Plantar Fasciitis and Bone Spurs
https://orthoinfo.aaos.org/en/diseases–conditions/plantar-fasciitis-and-bone-spurs/
Vietnam Draft & Military Service Sources
History.com — 7 Ways Americans Avoided the Draft During the Vietnam War
https://www.history.com/articles/vietnam-war-draft-avoiding
Wikipedia — Draft Evasion in the Vietnam War
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Draft_evasion_in_the_Vietnam_War
Wikipedia — Conscription in the United States
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conscription_in_the_United_States
Students of History — The Draft and the Vietnam War
https://www.studentsofhistory.com/vietnam-war-draft
University of Michigan — The Military Draft During the Vietnam War
https://michiganintheworld.history.lsa.umich.edu/antivietnamwar/exhibits/show/exhibit/draft_protests/the-military-draft-during-the-
Vietnam Veterans of America Chapter 310 — Vietnam War Statistics
https://www.vva310.org/vietnam-war-statistics
Vietnam Veterans of Foreign Wars — Fact vs. Fiction: The Vietnam Veteran
https://www.vvof.org/factsvnv.htm
New York City Vietnam Veterans Plaza — Interesting Facts About Vietnam
https://www.vietnamveteransplaza.com/interesting-facts-about-vietnam/

Medical Disclaimer
The information provided in this article is intended for general educational and informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. It should not be used as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.
Always seek the guidance of a qualified healthcare provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition or treatment. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay seeking it because of something you have read here.
If you are experiencing a medical emergency, call 911 or your local emergency number immediately.
The author of this article is a licensed physician, but the views expressed here are solely those of the author and do not represent the official position of any hospital, health system, or medical organization with which the author may be affiliated.