The Sons of Confederate Veterans respond to Virginia governor Bob McDonnell apologizing for, and effectively abolishing, Confederate History Month:
Brag Bowling, the commander of the Virginia division, is not pleased with McDonnell's decision.
"Our organization is terribly disappointed by this action," Bowling told TPMmuckraker. "He succumbed to his critics, people who don't support him anyway. And the vast majority of citizens of Virginia support Confederate History Month."
He said he had spoken with the governor's office and told them the same thing. He said "Civil War In Virginia Month" is a poor substitute.
"Nobody's ever been able to reason with me and tell me why we're honoring Yankees in Virginia," Bowling said. "The only northerners in Virginia were the ones that came to Virginia and killed thousands of Virginia citizens when they invaded."
He also defended against the charges of racism.
"There was nothing racist about Confederate History Month. It was honoring Confederate soldiers who fought and died for their state," he said, adding that the Sons will continue celebrating the month privately.
The racism in this statement is fairly obvious. In terms of armed forces, some six thousand black Virginians fought for their freedom in the Civil War. I don't have the numbers handy, but I believe by the time the War began to wound down at the Siege of Petersburg, something like one out of every eight Union soldiers were black. Most of them were either escaped slaves, or freedmen with roots in the South. My point is these black soldiers were not Yankee invaders. They were Southerners. As was Winfield Scott. As was George Henry Thomas, who capped a marvelous military career fighting Confederates reconstituted under the banner of the Ku Klux Klan. But none of these people mesh with Bowling's comfortable rendition of history. And so, in the interest of that comfort, he erases them.
This is not new. I have spent the last year visiting battlefields around the country--Shiloh, Fort Pillow, and Petersburg among others. It must be said that Southerners are doing better in terms of detailing a more complete story of the Civil War. Sometimes it verges on the bizarre. At Nathan Bedford Forrest State Park, I was shocked to see a film that--all at once--effusively praised Forrest, as well as the colored soldiers who fought against him. A group of black reenactors played the role of colored soldiers explicitely and directly stating that they had taken up arms against slavery.
At Shiloh, a Park ranger beautifully narrated the biography of Andrew Jackson Smith (pictured above.) Smith, born a slave, fled, when told that his "master" would be taking him with him into the Confederate Army. Instead, Smith fled 25 miles through the rain and presented himself to Union forces. As a servant to Major John Warner, he was shot in the head at Shiloh, but survived. He went on to fight for the Massachusetts 55th, holding aloft the regimental colors, after the flag-bearer was cut down.
Smith lived to be 88, selling and buying land, according to Wikipedia. In 1997--some sixty years after Smith's death--he was given the Medal of Honor by President Bill Clinton. There were no monuments for Smith, or any other black people, at Shiloh, much as there are no monuments for any of the USCT at The Crater.
Through a concerted effort Lost Causers have left many of the battlefields of the South awash with neo-Confederate sentiment. Petersburg should be a Mecca for black people, but if you watch the film that's shown in the visitor center, the sadness with which it regards the demise of a republic founded on White Supremacy, you understand why it isn't. You can not talk about African-American history without talking about the Civil War, and yet the battlefields where that War raged are decidedly alien places for people like me.
In making March, Civil War History Month, Bob McDonnell has, in the main, opened up the possibility of more informed public discussion. But he has also taken a step to give a share of the Civil War back to the people for whom it was fought. Honesty compels me to credit him for this. Ignoring this step because McDonnell hasn't reconstructed himself as Mike Bloomberg, or because it might be vaguely "in his interest" strikes me as cynical and dishonest. Were he to stand on Confederate History Month I would rightfully condemn him. Condemning him for doing the exact opposite would betray a lack of fidelity in my own words, and reveal me as someone who only cares about the Civil War insofar as it allows me to club away at people I may not like.
I can not do that. The broad reclamation of a Civil War equally shared by all Americans is, at this moment, the work of my life. It is not a means for something else. It is not a tool, or a wedge. It is not a component of a broader vision. This does not mean McDonnell shouldn't be criticized on other issues. I am speaking, at this moment, only to this one, and in that business, I want to endorse clarity, honesty and the work of broadening out the vistas of history.
His paranoid style paved the road for Trumpism. Now he fears what’s been unleashed.
Glenn Beck looks like the dad in a Disney movie. He’s earnest, geeky, pink, and slightly bulbous. His idea of salty language is bullcrap.
The atmosphere at Beck’s Mercury Studios, outside Dallas, is similarly soothing, provided you ignore the references to genocide and civilizational collapse. In October, when most commentators considered a Donald Trump presidency a remote possibility, I followed audience members onto the set of The Glenn Beck Program, which airs on Beck’s website, theblaze.com. On the way, we passed through a life-size replica of the Oval Office as it might look if inhabited by a President Beck, complete with a portrait of Ronald Reagan and a large Norman Rockwell print of a Boy Scout.
Why the ingrained expectation that women should desire to become parents is unhealthy
In 2008, Nebraska decriminalized child abandonment. The move was part of a "safe haven" law designed to address increased rates of infanticide in the state. Like other safe-haven laws, parents in Nebraska who felt unprepared to care for their babies could drop them off in a designated location without fear of arrest and prosecution. But legislators made a major logistical error: They failed to implement an age limitation for dropped-off children.
Within just weeks of the law passing, parents started dropping off their kids. But here's the rub: None of them were infants. A couple of months in, 36 children had been left in state hospitals and police stations. Twenty-two of the children were over 13 years old. A 51-year-old grandmother dropped off a 12-year-old boy. One father dropped off his entire family -- nine children from ages one to 17. Others drove from neighboring states to drop off their children once they heard that they could abandon them without repercussion.
A professor of cognitive science argues that the world is nothing like the one we experience through our senses.
As we go about our daily lives, we tend to assume that our perceptions—sights, sounds, textures, tastes—are an accurate portrayal of the real world. Sure, when we stop and think about it—or when we find ourselves fooled by a perceptual illusion—we realize with a jolt that what we perceive is never the world directly, but rather our brain’s best guess at what that world is like, a kind of internal simulation of an external reality. Still, we bank on the fact that our simulation is a reasonably decent one. If it wasn’t, wouldn’t evolution have weeded us out by now? The true reality might be forever beyond our reach, but surely our senses give us at least an inkling of what it’s really like.
“All the world has failed us,” a resident of the Syrian city of Aleppo told the BBC this week, via a WhatsApp audio message. “The city is dying. Rapidly by bombardment, and slowly by hunger and fear of the advance of the Assad regime.”
In recent weeks, the Syrian military, backed by Russian air power and Iran-affiliated militias, has swiftly retaken most of eastern Aleppo, the last major urban stronghold of rebel forces in Syria. Tens of thousands of besieged civilians are struggling to survive and escape the fighting, amid talk of a rebel retreat. One of the oldest continuously inhabited cities on earth, the city of the Silk Road and the Great Mosque, of muwashshah and kibbeh with quince, of the White Helmets and Omran Daqneesh, is poised to fall to Bashar al-Assad and his benefactors in Moscow and Tehran, after a savage four-year stalemate. Syria’s president, who has overseen a war that has left hundreds of thousands of his compatriots dead, will inherit a city robbed of its human potential and reduced to rubble.
The same part of the brain that allows us to step into the shoes of others also helps us restrain ourselves.
You’ve likely seen the video before: a stream of kids, confronted with a single, alluring marshmallow. If they can resist eating it for 15 minutes, they’ll get two. Some do. Others cave almost immediately.
This “Marshmallow Test,” first conducted in the 1960s, perfectly illustrates the ongoing war between impulsivity and self-control. The kids have to tamp down their immediate desires and focus on long-term goals—an ability that correlates with their later health, wealth, and academic success, and that is supposedly controlled by the front part of the brain. But a new study by Alexander Soutschek at the University of Zurich suggests that self-control is also influenced by another brain region—and one that casts this ability in a different light.
Trinidad has the highest rate of Islamic State recruitment in the Western hemisphere. How did this happen?
This summer, the so-called Islamic State published issue 15 of its online magazine Dabiq. In what has become a standard feature, it ran an interview with an ISIS foreign fighter. “When I was around twenty years old I would come to accept the religion of truth, Islam,” said Abu Sa’d at-Trinidadi, recalling how he had turned away from the Christian faith he was born into.
At-Trinidadi, as his nom de guerre suggests, is from the Caribbean island of Trinidad and Tobago (T&T), a country more readily associated with calypso and carnival than the “caliphate.” Asked if he had a message for “the Muslims of Trinidad,” he condemned his co-religionists at home for remaining in “a place where you have no honor and are forced to live in humiliation, subjugated by the disbelievers.” More chillingly, he urged Muslims in T&T to wage jihad against their fellow citizens: “Terrify the disbelievers in their own homes and make their streets run with their blood.”
The ethanol in kombucha has some regulators concerned about the popular microbial drink.
If it’s not fermented, don’t eat it.
That’s a rule from a best-selling diet book that a health guru—maybe you, or Gwyneth Paltrow—could write. The cover could be you and Gwyneth surrounded by honey and dirt, applying probiotic ointments, eating kimchi and smile-laughing over a cauldron of home-brewed kombucha.
Kombucha is a smart choice, because the drink has the fastest-growing segment of the “functional beverage” market in the U.S.—a category vaguely defined by one industry publication as “drinks with added functionality, such as ingredients and associated health benefits and functional positioning.” As in, water isn’t functional. Or, used in a sentence: “Kombucha now occupies about one-third of our refrigerated functional-beverage shelf.”
As journalists push back against hoaxes and conspiracies, media skeptics are using charges of “fake news” against professionals.
For a term that is suddenly everywhere, “fake news” is fairly slippery.
Is “fake news” a reference to government propaganda designed to look like independent journalism? Or is it any old made-up bullshit that people share as real on the internet? Is “fake news” the appropriate label for a hoax meant to make a larger point? Does a falsehood only become “fake news” when it shows up on a platform like Facebook as legitimate news? What about conspiracy theorists who genuinely believe the outrageous lies they’re sharing? Or satire intended to entertain? And is it still “fake news” if we’re talking about a real news organization that unintentionally gets it wrong? (Also, what constitutes a real news organization anymore?)
Why has Trump shown such eagerness to select former military brass for his Cabinet? The reasons may be both pragmatic and political.
Donald Trump didn’t always speak highly of military brass. “I know more about ISIS than the generals do,” he said in fall 2016. “Believe me.” In September, he added, “I think under the leadership of Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, the generals have been reduced to rubble. They have been reduced to a point where it’s embarrassing for our country…. And I can just see the great—as an example—General George Patton spinning in his grave as ISIS we can’t beat.”
But Trump’s disdain had a caveat: “I have great faith in the military. I have great faith in certain of the commanders, certainly.”
These days, he’s leaning toward the second pole. Already, Trump has selected three retired generals for Cabinet-level jobs. On Tuesday, he formally announced that he’s nominating retired Marine General James Mattis as defense secretary. On Wednesday, multiple outlets reported that he has selected John Kelly, another retired Marine general, as secretary of homeland security. Former Lieutenant General Michael Flynn got the nod as national security adviser on November 17.
As Oklahoma attorney general, Scott Pruitt sued the federal government to prevent rules about air and water pollution from taking effect.
Throughout the long campaign, and in the long month that has followed, President-elect Donald Trump sounded some odd notes about the environment.
He rejected the scientific fact of climate change, calling it a hoax or a fraud. He repeatedly announced his intent to repeal all of the Obama administration’s environmental regulations. He lamented, wrongly, that you couldn’t use hairspray anymore because it damaged the ozone layer.
And then, out of nowhere, he met with Al Gore, who won a Nobel Peace Prize for educating the public about the dangers of climate change.
While the broad strokes of Trump’s policies were never in doubt, there was often enough bizarreness to wonder what he would do with the powers of the Environmental Protection Agency.