Dem
47
GOP
53
To keep this manageable (and on-point, given what weekend this is), we've decided that we are going to answer a dozen questions, all about U.S. history.
Oh, and if you're still wrestling with this week's headline theme, we'll tell you "there's no need to feel down" and you should "pick yourself off the ground." And that applies even if you're not a young man.
F.S. in Cologne, Germany, asks: What would be most surprising for the Founding Fathers if you had told them about the U.S. in 2026?
(Z) answers: Needless to say, the technology of the modern era is very different from the technology of the eighteenth century. That said, the world had already entered into the industrial age, and so the Founding Fathers would certainly be able to wrap their minds around things like automobiles, cell phones, the Internet, etc., pretty quickly. Indeed, they would have predicted that things like transportation and communication would be radically transformed by increased mechanization and electrification.
So, I think the correct answer to your question is this: That a Black and Asian woman was popularly elected Vice President of the United States. The Founders, by and large, had some very eighteenth-century ideas about gender and race. And they were absolutely certain their fellow Americans were deeply invested in eighteenth-century ideas about gender and race and were not likely to change. The election of a Black man as president would certainly open their eyes when it comes to radical shifts in racial attitudes, but the election of Kamala Harris would open their eyes on that subject AND on radical shifts in gender roles.
M.F. in Des Moines, IA, asks: A question for the intersection between Pride and Independence Day.
For your readers who may not know, Baron Wilhelm von Steuban was a Prussian military officer hired by Washington to turn the Continental Army into a more well-trained, disciplined force, and my amateur understanding is that he made significant contributions in that regard.
There's also apparently some evidence he was in a homosexual relationship that's neither conclusive nor easily dismissed out of hand. I have two questions on this, realizing the Revolution is not (Z)'s area of focus: (1) How strong is the evidence? Similar to that for Buchanan, weaker, stronger? and (2) In that era, how did their peers handle a gay man's sexuality and reputation if he was important or powerful enough to make them want to avoid applying negative social consequences? Did they politely look the other way? Actively help hide it? Or just openly apply a double standard between powerful and powerless?(Z) answers: The second question is much easier to answer than the first. In that era, a person's sexual choices were, by and large, their own business as long as they kept things discreet and did not do harm to people who did not consent, or could not consent (and note that their ideas about "age of consent" were a fair bit different from ours). So, there might be whispers or eye rolls about men or women who led "unconventional" lives, but that would largely be the end of it. It was Victorians, evangelicals, and Victorian evangelicals who made the events taking place in private bedrooms into public business.
The evidence for von Steuben's homosexuality is very similar to that for Buchanan, though perhaps a shade stronger in favor of von Steuben being gay. Neither man married, but Buchanan at least proposed to a woman, while von Steuben never did. Meanwhile, Buchanan formed a very close friendship with one man (William R. King), who was his peer in terms of age and career, while von Steuben formed very close friendships with several men, all of whom were much younger and more conventionally attractive than King. Buchanan remained on good terms with his family, and left his estate to them, while von Steuben was alienated from his family and left his estate to a couple of his young, male friends. And finally, as a European (a somewhat more permissive culture) and a military man (and therefore not as likely to have his career ended by a scandal), von Steuben could afford to assume a bit more risk than Buchanan could.
M.M. in San Diego, CA, asks: My spouse is looking for an authoritative book on the economic history of the United States, detailing the social, political and policy ramifications. (I'm visualizing something the size of an unabridged dictionary...) Any suggestions?
(Z) answers: Consider The Relentless Revolution: A History of Capitalism (2010). Joyce was a friend, but she was also a brilliant scholar, and this was a passion project she undertook after retiring from teaching. Alternatively, An Economic History of the United States (2006), by Ronald Seavoy, is the preeminent textbook on this subject, and so is actually reasonably short, and is very accessible. You can also take a look at Capitalism in America: A History (2019), which was co-authored by Alan Greenspan (RIP), who knew a thing or two about economics.
M.L. in West Hartford, CT, asks: My son is a bright 11-year-old who is very curious about history. While my wife and I have been encouraging him to explore different perspectives on American history, we have been concerned that he has at times become enamored with certain right-wing narratives. One is the heroic version of Davy Crockett and the Alamo. Another is Bill O'Reilly's series of books on American history, which he came across on an audiobook app. Our concern with O'Reilly is not only his ideology, but that he has demonstrated a less than scrupulous approach to facts that do not fit his narrative.
I'm wondering if (Z) can recommend any books or book series that might appeal to him and provide a more accurate and nuanced perspective on American history?(Z) answers: The main problem with the Bill O'Reilly books is not that he adjusts the facts to suit his narrative (though that is ALSO a problem). The main problem is that he does not have a deep knowledge of the subject matter. And so, he makes outright factual errors (e.g., having Abraham Lincoln at work in the Oval Office, 40+ years before the Oval Office existed). Even more important than that, fact-wise, is that historians develop a gut feel for nuances and subtleties, such that they know that a person would never say something in a particular way, or would never present themselves in a particular way, or would never behave in a particular way. O'Reilly doesn't have that gut feel, so he screws up a LOT of nuance and subtlety, even more than he screws up on facts (though he gets facts wrong a lot, too).
Anyhow, if your son is engaging with O'Reilly books, then he's capable of handling adult-level texts, as long as they are meant for a general audience (and not for academics). So, I am going to recommend that, based on his areas of interest, you pick a volume or two in the Oxford History of the United States series (which, incidentally, are all available as audiobooks, too). I would also suggest a copy of James Loewen's Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong (2018; rev. ed.) which encourages a reader to develop a health sense of skepticism as they engage with the past.
J.B. in East Windsor, CT, asks: In your item about the Dans Sullivan, you talked about perennial candidates running for office without the expectation of winning. In Connecticut, the Republican candidate for Lieutenant Governor, a gentleman named Matt Corey, has run for state representative, state Senate, U.S. Congress, and U.S. Senate having never won any of them. He has no better prospect of success in his current run.
My question is: Has one of these (notable) perennial candidates ever won (after successive losses)? And, if so, have they gone on to do anything noteworthy, for good or ill?(Z) answers: There are perennial candidates who just like getting a little attention, or telling people "Hey, I'm running for Senate," or who hope that their sure-to-win opponent gets in some sort of scandal, laying the groundwork for a potential miracle. These people almost never win, because they're not actually doing the hard work of running for office.
On the other hand, there are people who spend the first phase of their careers as perennial candidates because they are learning the ins and outs of campaigning and building a network of supporters and donors. And eventually, they put it all together and win. This is actually how most people who eventually hold federal office start out, and so there are thousands of success stories.
L.V.A. in Idaho Falls, ID, asks: For decades, I have seen case-after-case of this country partaking in some military adventure overseas with no clear "exit strategy." Think Vietnam, Iraq, Somalia, Afghanistan, Iran...
I was wondering, as a historian, how many military actions since say 1900, can you think of, excluding World War I and World War II, that have had an exit strategy? ANY exit strategy?(Z) answers: The leadership of the United States, for a very long time, tended to think of war with a European mindset. In fact, that may still be the case. And the European mindset is pretty analogous to the game of chess. You move, the other side counter-moves, etc., etc., until one side is checkmated (usually, that means their capital has been captured, or their army has been decimated), or until both sides agree to a stalemate. Then they negotiate a treaty and that's that. This way of thinking of things comes with an implied exit strategy (i.e., we conquer the enemy, they give up, we figure out what happens now that they are defeated).
The problem is that non-European countries don't play by European rules. So, you can capture the enemy's capital, or their most important city, and... they don't give up. You can destroy their conventional armed forces, and... partisan (guerrilla) resistance fighters take over. I struggle to think of evidence that the U.S. government has truly figured out what victory looks like in a war of this sort, or has figured out how to achieve said victory. Hence all these wars that just go on for whatever amount of time, and then the U.S. pretty much packs up and goes home.
There is one exception to the rule that I can think of. The U.S. entered the Persian Gulf War with a very clear end goal/victory condition, and that was the liberation of Kuwait. And once Kuwait was liberated, the U.S. (appropriately) declared victory, and left.
The subsequent Iraq War sort of had a clear end goal/victory condition, namely the removal of Saddam Hussein from power, but it also had a fuzzy end goal, namely "ending terrorism." Further, the George W. Bush administration, unlike the administration of his father, did not think through the implications of removing Saddam. And so, that one turned into a mess, one that made the problems it was supposed to solve (Middle East instability, terrorism) worse, rather than better.
M.R. in Washington, DC, asks: I recently watched Pressure—and, for context, I am a currently serving Navy Information Warfare officer with meteorology and operational level of war as well as having been a History undergrad major who did a thesis on Dwight D. Eisenhower—so I was shocked to see how much my reaction to the movie differed from the reviews I've seen in various online spaces. Without biasing things too much, has the Staff Historian seen it and what does he think?
(Z) answers: I did see it—with (A), actually.
It is very similar to The Imitation Game, which is about Alan Turing and Bletchley Park and the breaking of the Enigma code/machine. That is to say, it's a very entertaining thriller based substantially on real historical facts. However, without giving away any spoilers, they also changed some very important details to ratchet up both the drama and the emotional impact.
I also found Brendan Fraser as Dwight D. Eisenhower to be somewhat distracting. He is a talented actor, no doubt, but he played some scenes in a manner inconsistent with the real Ike. Most obviously, and I don't think this really gives anything away, there is a scene where he gets the protagonist of the movie, meteorologist James Stagg, in a room, and basically screams at him. Not shouts, screams. "Eisenhower" sounds like he is about to burst into tears. I understand why Fraser made that choice (to convey the stress Ike was under), but high-ranking generals, particularly those of the mid-20th century, do not scream and do not verge on tears. They convey their pique in other ways.
In addition, while they shaved Fraser's head to give him the "chrome dome" look, he really looks nothing like Ike. The general was lean, while Fraser is much more stout. Further, and I mentioned this to (A) walking out of the theater, Fraser is clearly well over 6 feet tall, and he towers over the actor playing Stagg (Andrew Scott). In reality, Ike was 5'11, and would have been eye-to-eye with Stagg and most other men of that era. The General really did not tower over anyone.
Oh, and Scott's performance is magnificent, and worth the price of admission all by itself.
M.G. in Boulder, CO, asks: I've read about the Marshall Plan, and you have mentioned it several times, but I'd like a clear, short (a couple of paragraphs) explanation to build on. I have complete faith that you can do this without needing research.
(Z) answers: The Marshall Plan was partly humanitarian, but—and this is a dynamic that Donald Trump seems incapable of understanding—was certainly meant to advance the interests of the United States, as the goal was to forestall the conditions that might cause a country to consider communism.
The Congress set aside about $13 billion (roughly $200 billion in 2026 dollars), and countries who wanted a slice of the pie, and who had been torn up by World War II, had to submit proposals that explained how they would use the money to rebuild their industry, infrastructure, banking system, etc. Ultimately, something like a dozen and a half nations got at least some funding between 1948 and 1951. These countries were basically all in Western Europe, because it was Europe that had been torn up by the war, and Eastern Europe was under the control of the U.S.S.R. by that time.
There was also some money for Japan and other Asian countries, but that was distributed through other means, not the Marshall Plan.
A.G. in Scranton, PA, asks: I seem to recall that it is the opinion of Electoral-Vote.com that the assassination of President John F. Kennedy was the work of a lone gunman and that the assassin was Lee Harvey Oswald. I further recall that it is believed by Electoral-Vote.com that the motivation for the assassination of the President was Lee Harvey Oswald being an unsuccessful and feckless loser who decided to change that status by seeking fame through killing the President.
If those recollections are correct, what is your opinion in regards to the attempt by Lee Harvey Oswald—illegally thwarted by the Dallas Police—to place a telephone call to an intelligence agency in North Carolina less than 20 hours before he was murdered by Jack Ruby?(Z) answers: Your understanding of my opinion on the JFK assassination is not entirely correct. I have written before that I am open to the idea that there is some variance between the official narrative and the truth. For example, it is possible (though not likely at this point) that it will be proven there was a second gunman. I do not think there is evidence to support the supposition that the entire official narrative is fundamentally wrong, and that the truth is radically different. For example, it is not plausible that the whole thing was really a plot instigated by Lyndon B. Johnson.
As to Oswald, he died too quickly, with too little time to talk, to know what his real motives were. However, if I absolutely had to choose, I would not go with "feckless loser in search of fame." I would go with "political radical who was trying to undermine the U.S. system of government." If so, that would put him in the same general ballpark as Leon Czolgosz, who assassinated William McKinley.
As to the phone call, it sounds very suspicious when framed the way you've described it. However, Oswald made several phone calls in that same run of calls, including one to the woman his wife was staying with, and another to an attorney (John Abt) known for defending political radicals. That looks like a prisoner taking care of business, not an undercover operative trying to reach his spy network.
The "Raleigh Call," as it is known, was indeed Oswald's last phone call. It was not connected, not because the Dallas police interfered, but because nobody picked up the phone at either of the phone numbers Oswald gave. And it was not to an intelligence agency, it was to a man Oswald identified as "John Hurt." Thereafter, the authorities looked into this, and found two John Hurts living in Raleigh; one was a mechanic and the other was a World War II veteran who had been in the intelligence services during the war, but who had left that work upon his discharge, 18 years before the Oswald phone call.
In the end, all that we can really say is "Who knows?" Did Oswald get the name wrong? The number wrong? If he get them right, which John Hurt was he trying to reach and why? If Oswald was trying to reach a spy or CIA operative, why would that operative be someone who had no known connection to the intelligence community for nearly two decades prior to the assassination? And note that the World War II John Hurt said he never heard of Oswald and had no idea why he might be calling.
Anything is possible, but there just isn't evidence here to support the notion that the "Raleigh Call" is part of a conspiracy. And the Warren Commission DID look into it, and decided it was a dead end, so they did not include it in the report.
K.F.W. in El Dorado Hills, CA, asks: I lived through Watergate. Actually remember it well (I was in college). I've read for years that Nixon resigned because he was told there were enough votes in the Senate to convict. I came across this yet again and took a look at the Senate breakdown and it was 57 Democrats and 43 Republicans/Independents/Conservatives (according to Google). So the Democrats needed "only" 10 Republicans to vote with them to remove Nixon (assuming Dems voted as a bloc). That's the background. Here's the question: If it had been the other way around—57 Republicans and 43 Democrats—do you think there would have been the votes to remove Nixon or would the Republicans (as now) just have shut the whole thing down?
(Z) answers: Keep two things in mind. First, the parties had not fully re-sorted themselves after the events of the New Deal and, in particular, the Civil Rights Movement. So, there were some very liberal Republicans and there were some very conservative Democrats.
Second, politicians back then, and even more importantly voters, had considerably less patience for shady behavior from political leaders. If you look at all the presidential scandals prior to the year 2016, the ones that really got people angry (Whiskey Ring, Credit Mobilier, Cleveland-Halpin Affair, Teapot Dome, Watergate), Donald Trump or his underlings have basically done ALL of the same things (tax evasion for friends of the president, bribery in exchange for federal contracts, sexual affairs outside of marriage, opening federal lands to drilling by friends of the administration, and weaponizing the law-enforcement apparatus of the federal government, respectively), and yet have not generated nearly as much outrage in any of these instances.
Anyhow, I think most members of the Senate were furious with Nixon, not only because of his corruption, but because of other shenanigans like the illegal bombing of Cambodia and the impoundment of funds. And certainly the voters who sent those members to the Senate were furious. And all of these problems were solved by getting rid of Nixon and replacing him with the much more honest and much more reliable Gerald Ford (who was, after all, still a Republican). So, I think Nixon was doomed regardless of the partisan composition of the upper chamber.
Oh, and while this is implied by my answer, I'll make it explicit. If Donald Trump is impeached and removed, it won't be because Republicans are upset by his behavior, per se. It will be because enough Republicans will have concluded they are better off swapping Trump for J.D. Vance.
R.H.D. in Webster, NY, asks: I was a toddler when the Bicentennial took place in 1976, so I don't remember anything much about it. What I've heard was that it was a magnificent event and Americans really came together after all the negative feelings stemming from Vietnam and Watergate. I also heard that President Ford conducted himself extremely well during that time, as expected. Complete opposite of who we have leading us today for our 250th birthday.
(Z) answers: The celebration was indeed unifying, and did indeed penetrate more deeply into the culture than the celebration of the 250th anniversary has.
Trump is so toxic, for so many people, that maybe the 250th could not have been saved. However, the administration did not even try, and endeavored to populate the event with Trump-friendly musicians, and Trumpy ideas, and with Trump himself (and his name) all over it.
The correct thing to do, if a real celebration was wanted, was to do something like what happened during the Bicentennial: Put it under the control of a bipartisan commission, probably made up of well-liked former officeholders, like Tom Vilsack and Larry Hogan (note: a Democrat from a red state and a Republican from a blue state). But Trump needs to use every opportunity to promote himself and his own awesomeness, so that was never going to happen.
If you want a sense of what the Bicentennial was like, take a look at the World Cup right now. Yes, FIFA is as corrupt as can be. But the tournament itself has been largely apolitical, and has been very unifying and uplifting.
J.L.G. in Boston, MA, asks: How did the staff historian celebrate the 250th anniversary of his chosen topic of lifelong study?
(Z) answers: Sports writers always say that, once they made writing about sports their profession, they ceased to be "fans" of any particular team. Maybe that's because they know too much about how the sausage is made. Maybe it's because being a fan interferes with their ability to do their job properly and fairly. Maybe both.
When you're a professional historian, it's pretty much the same thing. I am neither patriotic, nor anti-patriotic, in the way those terms are generally understood. I am aware that both patriotism and the modern nation-state are basically inventions, and fairly recent inventions, and so I watch with interest how those inventions develop and interact and shape lives, but I don't really participate.
I do, of course, believe strongly in the ideals of the Constitution, the Declaration, the Emancipation Proclamation and the Gettysburg Address, and I believe strongly that the nation and its people have a duty to live up to those ideals. However, that is not the same thing as "patriotism," as that term is generally used.
As to the Fourth of July/the 250th anniversary, I don't do performative patriotism, as I just explained. Another major activity is eating, but I can't eat much at any one time, due to an operation I had several years ago. Yet another activity is drinking, but I don't like beer at all, and I am generally not much a fan of alcohol. Oh, and I despise fireworks, because of the impact they have on animals and their sensitive ears. So, it should be no surprise that my two least-favorite holidays are Independence Day and New Year's Eve.
I also had... obligations that forestalled attendance at any sort of fireworks presentation, obligations that I will eventually mention on the blog, possibly as early is this week. I did have a nice lunch with a friend of mine yesterday, however. We sat in an English pub and watched France defeat Portugal.