Latest news with #ContinentalArmy
Yahoo
24-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
On both sides of the Hudson, protesters counter Trump's message to West Point's cadets
President Donald Trump sported a red Make America Great Again cap during his address to graduating cadets at the U.S. Military Academy Saturday, evoking themes of patriotism, strength and military might. "We are putting America first,' Trump told West Point's class of 2025. 'We have to rebuild and defend our nation." Across the Hudson River in Garrison, the academy's stone towers serving as a backdrop, anti-Trump protesters joined in singing Woody Guthrie's 'This Land is Your Land' and 'America the Beautiful.' They toted American flags and signs with a portrait of George Washington, whose Continental Army faced off the British in a spot not far from here during the American Revolution. 'This man saved America from a tyrant. No More Tyrants! ' they read. Baila Lemonik's faded pink hat, studded with peace signs surrounding a 'Not My President' button, was her answer to Trump's MAGA cap. 'We don't particularly care for the current administration in Washington because they don't care about us,' said Lemonik of Mahopac, a leader of the group Putnam Progressives. Threats: Trump administration threatens Manhattan road project funding over NYC congestion pricing Trump, she suggested, had hijacked the true meaning of patriotism for his own political gain. She and the others who gathered at Garrison Landing Saturday were there to take it back. 'We're patriots because we take care of people,' Lemonik added. 'That's what you do. If someone doesn't have something you help them get it… They're taking away people's healthcare. People are going to die.' Trump's address to the West Point graduating class, like his first in 2020, inspired spirited and peaceful protests on both sides of the Hudson Saturday. Gas: Trump pushes for more gas pipelines in NY: Anti-gas activists urge Hochul to block them Outside the academy's Thayer Gate greeting attendees to the morning graduation were dozens of protesters carrying signs offering a different take on Army's familiar rallying cry for its contests with the rival U.S. Naval Academy. 'Go Army, Beat Fascism' and 'Go Army, Beat Tyranny,' they read. 'We're here supporting our corps of cadets and the graduates from West Point and we are trying to let the people know who are coming here that we support them but we do not support the president,' said Laurie Tautel, a Democrat and Orange County Legislator. At Garrison Landing, a small flotilla of kayaks cruised the shoreline toting anti-Trump signs, accompanied by the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater. Across the river a Coast Guard boat kept watch along the academy's shoreline west of the Hudson. 'This is our river,' said Trisha Mulligan of Garrison. 'We're trying to take it back…The MAGA has absconded with the flag and changed its meaning and so we're trying to bring it back.' Organizer Peter Bynum said Trump has undermined the principles of democracy and the rule of law envisioned by Washington and the nation's founders. 'What a slap in the face to patriots,' Bynum said. Karen Freede, a retired teacher from Putnam Valley, said she joined Saturday's protest because she fears for the country's future. 'Our president is not doing his job,' Freede said. "He is not for the people. He is working really hard for himself and his branding. He wants to be a dictator." Thomas C. Zambito covers energy, transportation and economic growth for the USA Today Network's New York State team. He's won dozens of state and national writing awards from the Associated Press, Investigative Reporters and Editors, the Deadline Club and others during a decades-long career that's included stops at the New York Daily News, The Star-Ledger of Newark and The Record of Hackensack. He can be reached at tzambito@ This article originally appeared on Rockland/Westchester Journal News: Protesters counter Trump's message to West Point's graduating cadets
BBC News
18-05-2025
- BBC News
The New York region that changed history 250 years ago
A surprise dead-of-night attack helped lead to US independence from the British. Now, a series of events are commemorating the region's pivotal role in shaping the nascent nation. In the violet-grey twilight before dawn in May 1775, a skeleton crew of soldiers were asleep inside Fort Ticonderoga, a British-held garrison on the banks of Lake Champlain in New York's Adirondack region, when a series of shouts rang out. Rushing to their posts, the men were stunned by the sight of six dozen American soldiers streaming over the fort's walls, flintlock rifles in hand, demanding surrender. With the British outnumbered and taken off guard, American victory was swift and bloodless. The fort's commander, sergeants, gunners and artillerymen were imprisoned and the invading forces captured 100 cannons and valuable weapons for the Continental Army. The surprise attack was a pivotal moment in the lead-up to the American War of Independence and marked the Continental forces' first offensive victory of the war that led to the United States' founding in 1776. This year, to commemorate the 250th anniversary of the conflict that shaped the nation, Fort Ticonderoga is hosting a series of new museum exhibits alongside its regular lineup of historical reenactments, guided tours and boat cruises – all of which provides travellers with a great jumping-off point to explore a region replete in Revolutionary War history. Lake Champlain is a vast expanse that extends for roughly 435 square miles, straddling the borders of western Vermont and eastern New York and spilling into the Richelieu and St Lawrence rivers, which stretch north to Montreal and Quebec City in Canada. As Fort Ticonderoga curator Matthew Keagle told me, this made the waterway and its most prominent garrisons – Fort Ticonderoga and Crown Point, located 10 miles south – key locations for the movement of British troops, supplies and intelligence during the colonial period (roughly 1600 through 1776). Emboldened by the Massachusetts militiamen who defended the towns of Lexington and Concord against British forces and initiated the war a month earlier in April 1775, two of the US's more colourful Revolutionary War figures turned north-west towards Lake Champlain. Ethan Allen, leader of the scrappy Green Mountain Boys militia, and Benedict Arnold, an ambitious, impetuous merchant whose name would later become synonymous with treachery, reluctantly agreed to share command of a dead-of-night attack on Ticonderoga."What was effectively a defensive war against the British… now turns into something very different," said Keagle, smartly dressed in a royal blue coat and knee-high boots, not unlike those depicted in the famous painting Capture of Fort Ticonderoga, which the historian stood in front of. "It dramatically changes the scope of the conflict." The weapons captured at the fort were hauled 300 miles by oxen and ice sledge to Boston, where Patriots used them to batter, and ultimately expel, British troops in March 1776. Today, some of those cannons, mortars and Howitzers are among 200,000 objects displayed at Fort Ticonderoga's museum, which houses the western hemisphere's largest collection of 18th- and early 19th-Century munitions, and the US's largest assemblage of 18th-Century military uniforms. Weaponry and cultural artefacts can also be found at the newly expanded museum at Crown Point, which was also captured by the Americans in May 1775. The experiences at the two sites diverge from there. Ticonderoga, or "Fort Ti" as locals call it, was restored to its original glory with squat, thick walls, pointed corners and a three-storey barracks building. Each year, staff launch new programming highlighting different periods of the bastion's history. This year's includes a new exhibit showcasing the US's nascent national identity, reenactments exploring everything from Arnold's surprising command to the science of defence and a demonstration showing how soldiers would have rowed fleet ships to and from Fort Ticonderoga. More like this:• The quiet Massachusetts towns that sparked a revolution• The birthplace of the US vacation• The manmade waterway that transformed the US "We constantly have to reevaluate how we understand the past," said Keagle, of the fort's frequently changing educational events. "We want to bring visitors into the discussion, whether that's through our more specialised programmes like seminars and lectures, or by walking our trails and visiting our garden to see how people lived in this period of history." By contrast, Crown Point is an elegiac ruin, the remnants of its 18th-Century military architecture reaching skyward from the fields. A series of well-marked trails loop around the historical site and ring the shoreline, including one that connects to the North Country Scenic Trail, which crosses eight northern US states. Because the site lies along the Atlantic Flyway, depending on the time of year, you might hear the effervescent chatter of bobolinks (which arrive in late April) , see raptors winging overhead and waterfowl gliding across the lake. Since 1976, Crown Point's bird-banding station has recorded more than 126,000 birds across 110 species. The Crown Point site is also a photographer favourite, both for its bird sightings and frozen-in-time features like a pair of abandoned limestone barracks and historical graffiti carved into the stones. "We're preserving the ruins of structures and the archaeological record beneath the surface," explained site manager Sam Huntington. Around the region, a number of hikes offer panoramic views of both the inimitable Adirondack landscape and its Revolutionary landmarks. At Coot Hill Trail, a hike known mainly to locals located about 10 miles away from Crown Point in the town of Moriah, New York, I met Arin Burdo, executive director of Champlain Area Trails (CAT). Our boots crunched through a late crust of snow along the moderately challenging 1.1-mile path to the 1,100-ft summit of Bulwagga Mountain. "The 46 High Peaks [the highest peaks in the region] get all the attention in the Adirondacks," Burdo told me. "Many of these lower-elevation hikes have big payoffs, and features like historic cemeteries or great birding, without the crowds." As the trees parted around the summit, a blanket of farms and meadows spread out below. Peregrine falcons rode air currents arcing over the cliffs, set against the distant backdrop of the Green Mountains of Vermont. To the north, the ghostly barracks of Crown Point stood out along Lake Champlain's shore. The region holds plenty of interest beyond its Revolutionary past. Fishing and boating are popular in this part of the 400,000-acre Champlain-Adirondack Unesco Biosphere Reserve, but outdoor guide Elizabeth Lee encourages terrestrial exploration, especially on CAT's 100 miles of trails. Here you may find bobcats and white-tail deer, and fancifully named plants such as scaly shagbark hickory and Dutchman's breeches, their flowers like tiny white pantaloons suspended upside-down on a clothesline. "The CAT trails definitely give a slice of life over time," Lee said, pointing to features that date from the colonial through the Revolutionary period and beyond. "Some have remnants of quarries, mining, farming, forestry, which takes you through the early 1900s. And there's a lot of really fun architecture [that shows] the changes in American society in those towns." Case in point: Defiance Hall by War Cannon Spirits, a distillery opened in 2022. In its cavernous, circa-1820 sawmill building, five miles from the Crown Point Historic Site, a stone alcove behind the long wooden bar was lined with whiskey, rye and vodka. I sipped a Cannonball Old Fashioned, made with whiskey, bitters, maple syrup and ginger, and wondered who used the centuries-old forest behind me to slip between strategic locations. On any given day in the hamlet of Elizabethtown, New York, originally settled by Revolutionary War veterans, you'll find a few dozen of the town's 1,000 residents, plus visitors like me, gathered at the Deer's Head Inn. Opened 1808 and used as a hospital during the War of 1812, it's now a hotel and restaurant featuring local, sustainably produced foods that nod to the cuisine of the Revolutionary past: potted lamb served with toast and curry sauce, dry-cured meats, pickled vegetables and a pear and apple crumble atop a rustic pie crust. Night had fallen by the time I stopped in the town of Schroon, New York, founded just after the Revolution on a 141-sq-mile lake of the same name. Moonlight glimmered on the glassy water, diffusing pinpricks of yellow light from the hilltop cabins of the Lodge at Schroon Lake, which opened in 2023 on the grounds of a former religious compound. Like many places within the Adirondacks, the reminders of the US's founding here are both visible and elusive – preserved in ruins, reimagined in modern-day interpretations and reconstructions, and alive in our collective memory. -- For more Travel stories from the BBC, follow us on Facebook, X and Instagram.
Epoch Times
17-05-2025
- Politics
- Epoch Times
Betrayal, Treason, and the Fall of an American Founder
Alexander Hamilton was dead and buried, killed by a gun fired by Aaron Burr. At the height of his political power, Burr had killed Hamilton, and, much like Hamilton on the day he was shot, July 11, 1804, Burr's political life would enter its death throes on July 12—the day Hamilton died. Burr had witnessed a steady rise politically, from joining the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War to becoming attorney general for New York, then serving as a senator from 1791 to 1797. He was one vote shy of winning the 1800 presidential election and, therefore, had to settle for the vice presidency under Thomas Jefferson. Burr, however, had spurned too many political foes and allies alike, and, after the duel with Hamilton, his rise had come to an end. Anonymous 1902 illustration depicting the duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, which occurred on July 11, 1804. Public Domain After Hamilton's death, both New York and New Jersey indicted him for murder, though he never stood trial. Burr returned to Washington to finish out his term as vice president and president of the Senate. The latter proved monumental, as he oversaw the impeachment trial of Supreme Court Justice Samuel Chase, which had been instigated by Jefferson. The Senate acquitted Chase on March 1, 1805. The following day, Burr stood before the Senate and announced his resignation to the Senate. He had been replaced by George Clinton, of New York, for vice president during the 1804 election. His party, the Democratic-Republicans, had seen the writing on the wall. Burr's resignation came two days before Jefferson began his second term. Burr proclaimed that the Senate 'is a sanctuary; a citadel of law, of order, and of liberty; and it is here—it is here, in this exalted refuge; here, if anywhere, will resistance be made to the storms of political phrenzy and the silent arts of corruption; and if the Constitution be destined ever to perish by the sacrilegious hands of the demagogue or the usurper, which God avert, its expiring agonies will be witnessed on this floor.' It appears Burr was referencing Jefferson (and even perhaps his long-time and now-dead political rival, Hamilton, who had held immense sway over the Federalist Party). His words, however, would soon deal specifically with himself, and he would be standing in court accused of being 'the usurper.' But the Constitution, with its definition of treason, ensured he did not prematurely join Hamilton in the grave. Go West Burr's political life in the East was over, and he now looked to the new lands in the West. On April 30, 1803, the Louisiana Purchase was signed, practically doubling the size of the United States. This new territory seemed ripe for political leaders, and Burr, known for his ambition, pursued the opportunity. Related Stories 7/15/2024 3/19/2025 Before the Louisiana Purchase, the territory had switched hands between the Spanish and French. Even after the Franco-Spanish James Wilkinson, a morally ambiguous American figure, had served in the Continental Army, been part of the Conway Cabal against Gen. George Washington, and by 1784 had moved to Kentucky and began negotiations with the Spanish regarding independence for Kentucky. The threat of settlers turning territories into new nations was a constant worry for the American government. In 1787, Wilkinson had secretly sworn allegiance to the Spanish governor (a fact not officially uncovered until the 20th century), and his penchant for split loyalties became pronounced in his dealings with Burr. Putting a Plan in Place After his time in the nation's capital ended, Burr was confronted with the dichotomy between opportunity and loyalty. He chose the former—a seemingly natural inclination for Burr. During the same month as his resignation, he met with Anthony Merry, the British minister to the United States. A plan, however, was being formed. He had suggested to Merry that he would require several frigates at the mouth of the Mississippi River to prevent an American blockade, as well as a loan of about 100,000 pounds. Burr then left Philadelphia to inspect the western lands. He arrived in Pittsburgh at the end of April, planning to meet his old friend, Wilkinson. The meeting had to wait as Wilkinson, currently serving as the territorial governor of Louisiana, was delayed. Burr, therefore, boarded a 60-foot houseboat and made his way down the Ohio River. On May 5, 1805, he stopped at the four-mile long Blennerhassett Island, where he dined with the wealthy Irish immigrant, Harman Blennerhassett, and his family. He remained at the island mansion until 11 p.m., discussing his plans. These plans involved Blennerhassett turning his mansion into Burr's military headquarters. Blennerhassett Blennerhassett Island from the north, as seen today. Burr continued down the Ohio River, stopping in Cincinnati and Nashville before arriving at Fort Massac, located on the river at the southern tip of Illinois today. Here, he met Wilkinson, whom he had been communicating with via coded letters based on a cipher system Wilkinson had created. Along with a barge, Wilkinson provided Burr a letter of introduction for his arrival in New Orleans. Upon entering in the port city, Burr made the acquaintance of a wealthy merchant, Daniel Clark, who, on Burr's behalf, began inquiring about the strength of local Spanish forts and the public sentiment toward a Mexican irruption from Spain. He also promised $50,000 towards Burr's imperial expedition with the hopes of becoming 'a duke' in the new Burr empire. For the rest of 1805, Burr continued his survey of the western lands, furthering discussions with Wilkinson, making more contacts, even returning to Washington to dine with Jefferson. He wrote his first letter to Blennerhassett, ordering him to turn his island into a military encampment. As 1805 turned into 1806, and the winter months gave way to spring, Burr continued the pursuit of his ambitious expedition, even taking the major step of contracting more than 20 boats to be built to accommodate 500 men, along with supplies. He also purchased 400,000 acres near the Washita River in today's northern Texas. The Unraveling In August 1806, however, his idea began to unravel when he discussed his goals with Col. George Morgan. Morgan, completely shocked by Burr's comments, sent a letter to Jefferson, informing him of Burr's plans—it was the first Jefferson had heard of the plan. When Wilkinson received Burr's latest correspondence about his impending arrival with armed men, he suddenly soured on Burr's plans and sent a letter of warning to Jefferson. He informed the president that an expedition planned to sail from New Orleans in February and land at Vera Cruz. The federal government had worked long and hard to resume peaceful relations with Spain. Jefferson, concerned that would be undone by this seemingly imminent invasion, Most of the boats built for the invasion were confiscated shortly before their departure. Many of the armed men who planned to be involved now either dispersed or were too disappointed in the recent outcomes to continue. Burr, arriving with Blennerhassett and a remnant of his confederates in Bayou Pierre, just north of New Orleans, discovered Wilkinson's betrayal. Burr immediately issued a statement of innocence, but that hardly mattered. While camping along the Natchez River, Burr received a letter from the governor of the Mississippi Territory requiring he surrender and stand before a grand jury. He arrived in Washington, a town in the Mississippi Territory, and stood before a grand jury, which quickly acquitted him. Burr was subsequently released. A Case of Treason As more rumors and facts about Burr's actions circulated, another warrant for his arrest was issued. Burr planned to take refuge in Florida, but while in Alabama, he was arrested and taken by a nine-man military escort to Richmond. On March 26, he stood before Chief Justice John Marshall, now known as the Father of the Supreme Court. A photo from 1904 shows the place Burr was captured near Wakefield, Ala. Burr's bail was set for $10,000, which was paid by several locals, thus freeing Burr from custody. It was during this week in history, on May 22, 1807, that Burr was brought before the grand jury for the charge of treason. The trial itself, however, did not begin until Aug. 3, primarily due to waiting for one of the trial's primary witnesses: James Wilkinson. When the trial began, Marshall made it abundantly clear that the charge of treason must adhere strictly to the Constitution's Chief Justice John Marshall, oil on canvas painting by Rembrandt Peale, 1834. Public Domain The case became one of America's most famous, involving some of the nation's most famous, infamous, and important figures, including Burr; Marshall; Wilkinson; co-conspirator Jonathan Dayton, who was the youngest signer of the Constitution; Burr's defense council, which included Edmund Randolph, a former secretary of state and a delegate at the Constitutional Convention and Charles Lee, a former attorney general; the prosecution, which included the future attorney general, William Wirt; and, to an extent, Jefferson, who had unprecedentedly been sent a subpoena by Marshall for papers concerning the case. On Sept, 1, 1807, the jury concluded that 'Aaron Burr is not proved to be guilty under this indictment by any evidence submitted to us. We therefore find him not guilty.' Whether Burr committed treason by attempting to create another country on the continent, or if he solely planned an ill-conceived invasion of Mexican lands remains a topic of debate to this day. 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Yahoo
13-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
How Britain's Protectionist Trade Policies Created Valley Forge
When students of the Revolutionary War hear the words Valley Forge, they probably think of an iconic image: Gen. George Washington kneeling in the snow, surrounded by log cabins, praying for aid. The Continental Army endured the winter of 1777–78 at Valley Forge, while the British hibernated in nearby Philadelphia. It was that winter, so the semimythologized story goes, that the Americans were sharpened from a ragtag militia that had done little more than strategically retreat during the war's first two years into a force capable of challenging the redcoats. But before Valley Forge became the "Valley Forge" of American military history, it had already played a smaller, unofficial role in the fight for independence. This "forge" in its name was a small ironmaking operation established on the banks of the Valley Creek in 1742 as the Mount Joy Forge. It was just one of dozens of small ironworks that popped up across the hills of eastern Pennsylvania in the decades before the revolution. The densely wooded region provided ample fuel for furnaces that smelted iron ore into pig iron and other forms of workable metal, which could subsequently be forged into tools and household goods. The supply chains ran down the river to Philadelphia and from there to the rest of the colonies and the world. In 1750, however, the British government tried to intervene in that burgeoning market. With the passage of the Iron Act, the American colonies were allowed to produce only unfinished iron and were allowed to export it only to Britain. Finished products would have to be reimported from Britain—with a high tax applied, naturally. Existing forges, like the one where the Continental Army would later encamp, were allowed to continue operating but could not expand production without permission from the crown. The law was not always obeyed, as a small exhibit in the stables at Valley Forge National Historical Park explains. In some cases, it may have been openly flaunted. John Potts, who bought the Mount Joy Forge in 1757, founded another forge in the area in 1752, seemingly in defiance of the Iron Act (though historians at the site are unsure of its exact legality). In the long run, the Iron Act was an utter failure. The mercantilist law incentivized both American producers and colonial officials to ignore it and helped galvanize support for independence among Pennsylvania's commercial classes. The British army destroyed the Mount Joy Forge on its way to occupying Philadelphia in the fall of 1777. But neither brute military force nor protectionist trade policy could stamp out the market for Pennsylvania iron—without which there would never have been a Valley Forge to serve as the turning point for Washington's army. The post How Britain's Protectionist Trade Policies Created Valley Forge appeared first on
Yahoo
08-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Is Spying Un-American?
In 1973, William Colby, then the director of central intelligence, had a statue of the Revolutionary War spy Nathan Hale placed on the grounds of the CIA's headquarters in Virginia. Hale struck many as an odd choice of icon; after all, he had been captured and executed by the British. One of Colby's successors, William Casey, grumbled that Hale 'fouled up the only mission he was ever given.' Casey left Hale alone, but compensated by commissioning what he considered a more appropriate statue in the lobby—a likeness of William Donovan, nicknamed 'Wild Bill,' the man often credited as the father of the CIA. Casey wasn't wrong about Hale's incompetence. Hale hadn't bothered to use an alias, and he divulged his assignment to a British officer. Whether or not he actually uttered his famous last words about having only one life to give for his country, it appears that he was an idealist, if not an outright innocent. 'He was simply too forthright and trusting to be a good spy,' concludes Jeffrey P. Rogg in his forthcoming book, The Spy and the State, one of two new histories of American intelligence. This is an interesting assessment because of what Rogg declares just a few pages earlier: that the business of intelligence 'is inherently 'un-American,'' a practice ill-suited to a 'country that values honesty, transparency, and forthrightness.' A tantalizing inference can be drawn: If Hale had been a worse American, he might have been a better spy. The question of whether espionage is compatible with American ideals is an old one. At the founding, the prevailing answer was no. Spying was an appurtenance of monarchy, and therefore incompatible with republican government. In 1797, James Monroe, recently recalled from his position as the minister to France, accused Secretary of State Timothy Pickering of using spies in a bitter letter: 'The practice is of great antiquity, and is now in use in the despotic Governments of Europe,' he conceded, 'but I hoped never to see it transplanted to this side of the Atlantic.' One founding American who did not share his age's discomfort with espionage was George Washington. Rogg casts him as the nation's first great spymaster, and he is joined in this assessment by Mark M. Lowenthal, the author of Vigilance Is Not Enough. The mission that cost Hale his life was Washington's idea, and he authorized at least three kidnapping plots during the war. As the commander of the Continental Army, he was a sophisticated consumer of intelligence, cultivating a wide range of sources. Lowenthal, a former high-ranking CIA official, approvingly quotes the postwar protest of a British officer: 'Washington did not really outfight the British, he simply outspied us!' [Read: How the CIA hoodwinked Hollywood] Washington left his most significant intelligence legacy as the nation's first president. At his prodding, the first Congress created the Contingency Fund for the Conduct of Foreign Affairs, a presidential bank account for paying spies. Congress controlled the amount that went into the fund but otherwise had no say in how it was used. This arrangement was arguably sound as a matter of both policy and constitutional law. Endless public debate is no way to authorize time-sensitive covert activities, and the most natural way to read the Constitution on the subject (which it says nothing about) is by analogy to the president's powers as commander in chief and head of state. But in establishing the Contingency Fund, Congress surrendered not just its right to control intelligence operations but any right to know about them altogether. The president was required to tell lawmakers how much he'd spent, but not where the money had gone. The abdication was considerable, and the potential for abuse was great. The decision to involve the United States in espionage aroused little public opposition, both in Washington's day and for decades to come. Americans still considered spying on adversaries unsavory, but their government simply wasn't doing that much of it. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, it was largely an ad hoc business conducted by diplomats, military officers, and adventurers. The Army and Navy developed intelligence divisions after the Civil War, but these were marginal outfits that amassed little power or bureaucratic respect. Especially in peacetime, the United States had no permanent, centralized system for collecting intelligence. Accordingly, few Americans saw in the president's covert powers a threat to law or liberty. The pattern that defined this period—an uptick in spying during war, and then its ebbing in peacetime—poses a problem for Rogg and Lowenthal, whose accounts of the years between the Revolution and World War II are overstuffed with desultory detail. The reader who perseveres through hundreds of pages of bureaucratic infighting and military history in the hopes of fresh insight into later, more familiar chapters of American intelligence will be disappointed. There are suggestive episodes along the way—for instance, the Army's use of waterboarding during a brutal campaign in the Philippines at the turn of the 20th century, or the 1798 passage of the Alien Enemies Act, which President Donald Trump has recently dusted off in cruel fashion—but the inescapable conclusion is that little of what came before the start of the Cold War informed what came after. Growing out of Wild Bill Donovan's wartime Office of Strategic Services, the CIA was established in 1947 as part of the National Security Act, the law that also birthed the Department of Defense, the National Security Council, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Under the act, the CIA's primary responsibility was coordinating intelligence gathering across the government. But the statute also directed the agency 'to perform such other functions and duties related to intelligence affecting the national security as the National Security Council may from time to time direct.' This was a fatefully broad legislative grant. The CIA's first general counsel concluded that Congress did not mean by these words to authorize covert action—a view shared by Walter Bedell Smith, the agency's second director, who worried that 'the operational tail will wag the intelligence dog.' [Read: How fake spies ruin real intelligence] Yet for President Harry Truman, the need to counter Soviet aggression outweighed any niceties about legislative intent. In late 1947, he authorized the CIA to intervene in Italy's parliamentary elections, where the Communist Party was poised for a strong performance. The agency spent heavily in support of candidates from the centrist Christian Democratic Party, which won a clear majority at the polls in April 1948. For Truman and his successors, it was proof of concept: Covert operations seemed to offer a relatively cheap way to confront the Soviets without risking a wider war. President Dwight Eisenhower expanded the CIA's brief from influencing elections to toppling governments, leading to regime changes in Iran in 1953 and Guatemala in 1954. More chillingly, in 1960, he approved (whether expressly or tacitly is still disputed) the assassination of Patrice Lumumba, the charismatic leader of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Although the plot fizzled out, Lumumba was soon killed in the aftermath of a CIA-backed coup, and the Kennedy administration followed Eisenhower's example with its futile campaign against Fidel Castro. Rogg and Lowenthal acknowledge that the CIA's forays into regime change and assassination damaged the American government's reputation abroad and its standing at home. Yet their evaluations of CIA excesses are oddly muted, as if botched attempts to murder foreign leaders were just another form of intelligence failure. In fact, the Cold War coups and assassinations were not merely missteps. They were abuses, with shattering consequences still being felt today. For history that treats these shady events with the appropriate degree of outrage, one must look to such recent works as Stuart Reid's The Lumumba Plot and Hugh Wilford's The CIA: An Imperial History. In the mid-1970s, thanks to an inquisitive press and a newly assertive Congress, the public began to learn about the CIA's more outlandish undertakings: not just coups and killings but also mind-control experiments (the notorious MKUltra program) and the surveillance of American citizens. One result was reform; the president, for instance, is now required by law to inform Congress before launching a covert operation. Another consequence was a growing culture of suspicion. Revelations of a seemingly lawless intelligence state awakened Americans' long-standing wariness of spies, which, in the aftermath of Vietnam and Watergate, acquired a cynical, paranoid aspect, evident in films such as Three Days of the Condor that depict the agency as a sinister shadow government. Another name for shadow government is 'deep state.' At first blush, President Trump's conspiratorial view of intelligence appears not so different from that held by many other Baby Boomers; witness his obsession with the assassination of John F. Kennedy. But in raising the specter of unchecked spy agencies, Trump doesn't see a threat to the nation. He sees a threat to himself. He has been a relentless antagonist of the intelligence community since 2016, when it concluded that Russia meddled in that year's presidential election to aid his campaign. Newly emboldened in his second term, Trump appears determined to bend the spy agencies to his will, filling his administration's key intelligence jobs with the likes of Tulsi Gabbard and Kash Patel, unqualified outsiders chosen for their willingness to parrot his false claims of witch hunts and rigged elections. [Read: Inside the fiasco at the National Security Council] In saner times, under sounder leadership, changes to the intelligence community would perhaps be welcome. The CIA never fully regained the trust it lost in the 1970s; what progress it made was largely undone during the War on Terror, when its use of torture, rendition, and drone strikes of questionable legality—alongside the National Security Agency's mass-surveillance program—again underscored the danger that an unaccountable intelligence apparatus poses to the nation's constitutional order. These transgressions should have led Congress to consider fundamental reforms to America's spy agencies, including a long-overdue mandate that they forgo covert action and focus on the essential work of foreign-intelligence gathering and analysis. But no overhaul is forthcoming, leaving the CIA and its peers vulnerable to Trump's demagoguery, and Americans vulnerable to the whims of a surveillance state. Now, like much of the rest of the federal government, the intelligence community finds itself subject to thoughtless demolition. In April, the president fired the head of the NSA after the conspiracist Laura Loomer accused him of disloyalty; in early May, the administration announced plans to cut more than a thousand jobs at the CIA and other spy agencies. The timing could hardly be worse. As the United States enters a new era of great-power competition, it urgently needs information about its adversaries abroad. But for at least the next few years, America's spy agencies will have their hands full with the rogue government at home. Article originally published at The Atlantic
