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Despite Donald Trumps seeming lack of interest in the project, a number of his followers around the US have been flirting with the idea of forming a breakaway party of the right to challenge the Republican establishment. Most of these have names which use the word patriot.

In Florida, former Republican voters registered the American Patriot Party of the United States or TAPPUS, for short while at the end of January a spokesman for the former president denied reports he was planning to fundraise in cooperation with a group calling itself the MAGA Patriot Party National Committee.

Patriot was a word that surfaced repeatedly during the assault on the US Capitol in January, being repeatedly invoked to define the identities and motivations of those who invaded the nations legislative heart. Ivanka Trump herself praised the participants on Twitter as American Patriots though she deleted her tweet after being challenged by other Twitter users for her use of this word.

Patriot is a common enough word, but its modern use is often nebulous. A simple dictionary definition of a patriot is one who loves and supports his or her country. So you could call anyone who expressed their love for their country a patriot no matter where or when they lived. In the US context, though, until relatively recently the word has been used most frequently in relation to New England and especially Boston in the era of the American revolution.

Patriot has long been a convenient shorthand for those American colonists who supported or participated in the revolution, as distinct from the loyalists who hoped that the North American colonies would remain part of the British empire. New Englanders, particularly those who live in or around Boston, like to think that their city and region holds a special place in the history of the revolution, and thus of the United States. It was the home of leaders such as Paul Revere, Samuel Adams and John Hancock. It was also the site of the Stamp Act riots, the Boston Tea Party and the Battle of Bunker Hill.

The regions sole National Football League franchise is the New England Patriots, who are based in Bostons southern suburbs. The teams mascot, Pat Patriot, is depicted as a revolutionary-era soldier, wearing a Continental Army uniform and a tricorne hat. On the third Monday of April, Massachusetts, Maine and Connecticut celebrate the state holiday known as Patriots Day, in commemoration of the opening battles of the American revolution, which took place at Lexington, Concord, and Menotomy (now Arlington), Massachusetts.

The holiday is marked by re-enactments of these battles, and, more prominently, by the Boston Marathon. The 2016 film Patriots Day was so titled because its subject was the 2013 terrorist attack on the marathon.

What, then, is the connection between a regional tradition of remembrance of the revolution and the crowds of Trump supporters who stormed the Capitol Building? In 2016 a small but assertive group which called itself Patriot Prayer emerged, holding pro-Trump rallies in liberal west coast enclaves such as Portland, Oregon. But the term did not gain wide usage among white nationalists and other members of the alt-right until 2020, when it became a popular way for Trump supporters to describe themselves.

Kyle Rittenhouse, the Illinois teenager who shot three people at a Black Lives Matter protest in Kenosha, Wisconsin, was hailed by Trump supporters as a patriot. Since Novembers presidential election, the word has been employed repeatedly among those who believe that the Democrats stole Trumps victory.

Trump supporters travelling from Louisville, Kentucky for the rally on January 6 referred to their group as a patriot caravan. Meanwhile the husband of Ashli Babbit the air force veteran who was shot and killed by Capitol police during the invasion praised her as a great patriot to all who knew her.

On the far-right Breitbart website, someone commenting on a story quoting Donald Trump calling for a peaceful transfer of power attracted a large number of approvals when they left the following comment:

There will NEVER be reconciliation. We have irreconcilable differences, and the fight has just begun. We need to disown the RNC until they support the Patriot Party.

The word patriot has an obvious appeal. Its difficult to argue against a person or groups love of their country and their willingness to take action to defend it. Thats particularly significant when, in the case of the alt-right, it believes that its nations core values are threatened.

But we might view white nationalists embrace of the term as inspired less by American history than by the 2000 Hollywood film The Patriot, starring Mel Gibson himself one of Hollywoods most ardent conservatives. Gibsons character enters the War of Independence only reluctantly to protect one son and avenge the death of another. In other words, for unimpeachable motives.

But is it a stretch to apply this conception of the patriot to those who, like Babbit or the QAnon Shaman, stormed the Capitol because they believed that the Democrats had stolen the election? From the point of view of someone who believes the QAnon conspiracy theory that the Democratic Party elite were behind a vast paedophile ring threatening innocent children, perhaps this really did seem to be an act of patriotism.

Samuel Johnson famously claimed that patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel, but as is so often true the reality is undoubtedly far more complex.

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'Patriots' in America: how fighting for your country has taken on new meaning for Trump supporters - The Conversation UK

Patricia Lockwood created a Twitter account in 2011. Right away, she knew what to do with it. Free in the knowledge that no one was listening, I mostly used it to tweet absurdities like Touch it, Mr. Quiddity moaned. Touch Mr. Quidditys thing, she writes, in her memoir Priestdaddy (2017). Back in those days, people tended either to dismiss Twitter as one of the stupider things to have happened in human historythe whole world should care what you had for lunch?or to celebrate it as a revolution that would usher in a golden age of democracy and peace. Tuna-fish sandwiches versus the Arab Spring: that was the crux of the debate. Fewer saw that the form could be a kind of fiction, an exercise in pure persona sprung from the manacles of story, or even sense. All you needed was style, and Lockwood had it. (It helped that she was a poet, a fondler and compressor of language.) Her best tweets were tonally filthy but textually clean, like a clothed flasher, their voice so intrinsic to the new medium, so obviously online, that if you tried to explain to a parent or an offline friend what you were laughing at you ended up sounding like a fool. Tweeting is an art form, Lockwood tells her skeptical mother, in Priestdaddy. Like sculpture, or honking the national anthem under your armpit. She made it seem like it was.

A decade has passed since those happy days. Twitter did not usher in a definitive dawn of democracy abroad. Democracy in America has barely survived it. Meanwhile, much of the mediums fun has gone sour and sharp. Twitter is still a comedy club and a speakers corner, the cozy back booth at an all-night diner. Its also a stoning square, a rave on bad acid, an eternal Wednesday in a high-school cafeteria, an upside-down Tower of Babel pointing straight to human hell. What began as one of the biggest literary experiments since the birth of the world, everyone invited to shoot out words from their fingers at any time, has calcified into a genre clogged with clichs, one of which Lockwood has taken as the title of her first novel, No One Is Talking About This (Riverhead). To translate for the offline: this is what someone says in a clutch of outrage upon discovering a topic or bit of newsone which, it is safe to assume, many people are already talking about.

Why are we still On Here? Twitter users often ask with the desperation of the damned, and the answer that Lockwoods book immediately gives is that we are addicts. What opium did to the minds of the nineteenth century is no different than what the Internetthe portal, as Lockwood calls itis doing to the minds of the twenty-first. We know this from science, some of us from experience, but Lockwood is out to describe that sensation of dependency, the feeling of possessing a screen-suckled brainor of being possessed by it. Thomas De Quincey, plugged full of poppy, reported sitting at a window from sunset to sunrise, motionless, and without wishing to move, and something similar happens to Lockwoods unnamed protagonist when she sits in front of her computer screen:

Her husband would sometimes come up behind her while she was repeatingthe words no, no, no or help, help, help under her breath, and laya hand on the back of her neck like a Victorian nursemaid. Are youlocked in? he would ask, and she would nod and then do the thing thatalways broke her out somehow, which was to google beautiful brownpictures of roast chickensmaybe because thats what women used to dowith their days.

A digital ailment demands a digital cure: this is funny, sad, and right, as is the telling grammatical slip at the end of the paragraph, which implies that women used to Google chickens rather than cook them. Lockwood is sending a bulletin from the future, when, horrifyingly, such things will be said of her generation, and be true.

That historical anxiety, directed both at the past and the future, is acutely felt by Lockwoods protagonist, who, like Lockwood herself, is a married woman in her late thirties who has found real-world eminence by being very online. She is a kind of diplomat from the digital world, paid to travel around the globe to give lectures and appear on panels, at which she tries to explain things like why it was objectively funnier to spell it sneazing. Her public is not always receptive to such meditations. At an appearance in Bristol, an audience member brandishes a printout of the post that shot her to fameCan a dog be twins?and tears it in two. This is your contribution to society? he asks, stomping out.

Here is a reply guy in the flesh, a sneering man who reminds the protagonist that she is silly, unserious, a womana fact that Lockwoods protagonist, in spite of professing no particular attachment to what the portal has taught her to call her pronoun, knows all too well. Digital optimists like to say that social media is just a supercharged update of Enlightenment caf culture, with tweets passed around instead of pamphlets. But Lockwoods protagonist knows that she is excluded from that vision of the past. While the men, class permitting, read and debated, she would have been doing the washing and birthing the children; as recently as the fifties, a friend reminds her, the two of them would likely have been housewives. So what does it mean that she, a woman in the historically anomalous position of determining the course of her own life (notably, she is childless), is choosing to spend her days and nights glued to the portal, looking at a tarantulas compound eyes, a storm like canned peaches on the surface of Jupiter, Van Goghs The Potato Eaters, a chihuahua perched on a mans erection? What is her contribution to society?

The novel itself is one answer. Stream-of consciousness was long ago conquered by a man who wanted his wife to fart all over him, the protagonist tells the audience at one of her events. But what about the stream-of-consciousness that is not entirely your own? One that you participate in, but that also acts upon you? The comparison to Joyce, the man who wanted his wife to fart all over him, is bold, and telling. Lockwood has set out to portray not merely a mind through language, as Joyce did, but what she calls the mind, the molting collective consciousness that has melded with her protagonists singular one. And, as Joyce did, she sets about doing it through form. No One Is Talking About This is structured as a kind of riff on the tweet scroll, discrete paragraphs (many two hundred and eighty characters or less) arranged one after another to simulate, on the fixed page, the rhythm of a digital feed. This methoddense bulletins of text framed by clean white spaceis not revolutionary, or even innovative. It was used in the seventies to great effect by novelists like Renata Adler and Elizabeth Hardwick, and it has become newly popular over the past decade as a way to mimic a fragmented, flitting modern consciousnessoften that of a woman who is harried by competing demands on her attention. It is a permissive form, tempting to use and easy to abuse, since, paradoxically, the arrangement of disconnected beats implies a unity of meaning that the text itself may not do enough to earn.

The critic Lauren Oyler, a skeptic of the fragmented method, parodies it in a long section of her own novel, Fake Accounts, another recent dbut about life lived in the shadow of the Internet. Why would I want to make my book like Twitter? Oylers narrator asks. If I wanted a book that resembled Twitter, I wouldnt write a book; I would just spend even more time on Twitter. The question of how to represent the digital world in language has become only more interesting, and more urgent, as it has become clearer that the Internet is not just a device but an atmosphere, a state of being. Were always online, even when were off, our profiles standing sentry for us at all hours, our minds helplessly tuned to the ironic, mocking register of well-defended Internet speak. That is exactly the voice of Oylers narrator, who, like Lockwoods protagonist, is a young white millennial woman who resembles her author in sundry particulars, as a digital avatar might. Oylers narrator is entertainingly critical of digital life even as she is formed by it; it is her milieu, and the novel confronts its artifice, in part, by confessing its own. Sections of the book are labelled with the equivalent of highway signage (MIDDLE (Something Happens)); its title, which is seemingly descriptivethe novels nominal plot is launched by the narrators discovery that her boyfriend has an alt-right persona on Instagramdoubles, usefully, as a definition of fiction itself. When she is feeling cheeky, the narrator addresses her presumed readers, a silent gaggle of ex-boyfriends: the same audience that she might imagine checking out her social media accounts, keeping tabs.

Lockwood is up to something more sincere. She embraces the fragment because she has set herself the challenge of depiction; the medium becomes the message, the very point. Thoughts about fatbergs, videos of police brutality (the protagonist is trying to hate the policenot easy, given that her father is a retired cop), baby Hitler, the word normalize, and on and on and on, all of it sluiced together and left to lodge in the hive mind: that is what Lockwood wants to show us, and wants to see more clearly for herself. Someone could write it, Lockwoods protagonist tells a fellow panellist, a man who has earned fame by posting increasing amounts of his balls online. It would have to be done, she thinks, as a social novel, a documentation of the mores and habits of the portal collective. Already when people are writing about it, theyre getting it all wrong, she says. But Lockwood gets it right, mimicking the medium while shrewdly parodying its ethos:

P-p-p-perfect p-p-p-politics! She hooted into a hot microphone at apublic library. She had been lightly criticized for her incompleteunderstanding of the Spanish Civil War that week, and the memory of itstill smarted. P-p-p-perfect p-p-p-politics will manifest on earth asa racoon with a scab for a face!

Every day we were seeing new evidence that suggested it was the portal that had allowed the dictator to rise to power. This was humiliating. It would be like discovering that the Vietnam War was secretly caused by ham radios, or that Napoleon was operating exclusively on the advice of a parrot named Brian.

Some people were very excited to care about Russia again. Others were not going to do it no matter what. Because above all else, the Cold War had been embarrassing.

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Patricia Lockwood, Lauren Oyler, and the Voices That Get Lost Online - The New Yorker

Wrapping yourself in an American flag does not make you a patriot any more than going to church makes you a Christian.

The people who stormed the Capitol Jan. 6 were not patriots, despite their chants of USA! USA!, weaponized American flags, and the blessings of a man who would be their king.

The true patriots at the Capitol Jan. 6, 2021, were the Capitol Police and the D.C. Metro Police. They defended the members of Congress against the murderous mob who, unchecked, might have lynched (they had a gallows) sitting members of the U.S. government, including the vice president.

The flag-waving mob consisted of revolutionaries, insurrectionists, seditionists, rebels, thugs, racists, extremists, criminals, sovereign citizens, rogue cops, war-trained veterans, domestic terrorists, conspirators. Not a patriot among them.

To be fair, many of the people in the riot just got caught up in the moment, mob mentality, mass hysteria. They probably thought they were in the right because they truly believed Donald Trump won the election.

After all, since last summer Trump had been telling his supporters the only way he could lose the election was if it were rigged. And when he actually did lose the election, he refused to accept the results and whipped his supporters into a seditious frenzy by claiming without any evidence whatsoever that the election was stolen from him.

Aided and abetted by journalistically bankrupt right-wing media and self-serving politicians, Trump still sustains The Big Lie that he won despite overwhelming evidence that he lost.

The Big Lie is a tactic chillingly articulated by one of the architects of the Holocaust, Josef Goebbels, who said: If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it.

I used to believe it could never happen here. I was wrong. It is happening here.

By grandiosely and mendaciously repeating the Big Lie that he won the election, Trump and his media sycophants have fooled and made fools of millions of credulous Americans.

Two hundred-and-still-counting rioters are facing federal charges ranging from misdemeanors to felonies to sedition. Fooled by Trump and the alt-right media. Foolish for taking selfies.

REALITY CHECK

Not only does Trump continue to promulgate the Big Lie, he has mesmerized millions of Americans into thinking theyre patriots. And these zombie patriots have appropriated the American flag as if only they were entitled to it.

Theres nothing patriotic about overthrowing our government.

And it is oxymoronic to use the American flag in support of insurrection.

All together now: I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands .

Theres a whole lot of cognitive dissonance going on here, some very pretzeled logic, alternate reality.

It is a fundamental law of the universe: The more you ignore reality, the more it will work against you. Just ask the folks in jail.

I like to think some Trump supporters were shocked back into the real world, ashamed of what happened Jan. 6 and beginning to realize what Trump and his echo chamber have played them.

U.S. democracy marched forward and certified the election of Biden and Harris despite the riot and Trumps histrionics.

They saw Trump impeached, again. This time for the high crime of inciting insurrection. They witnessed a lopsided trial where the House impeachment managers proved beyond doubt Trump was guilty, guilty, guilty.

Depressingly but not surprisingly, 43 Republican senators ignored the evidence Feb. 13 and voted to acquit. Perhaps they just want to ride Trumps insurrectionary gravy train to its dead end. Or maybe those faithless pols are afraid of their Trump-loving and some clearly violent constituents?

What was encouraging and surprising Feb. 13 was that seven Republican senators Burr, Cassidy, Collins, Murkowski, Romney, Sasse and Toomey broke ranks and voted to convict Trump. They risked political suicide by rejecting partisan politics and upholding their oaths to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

As Sen. Mitch McConnell so eloquently and hypocritically put it after he voted to acquit on an inane technicality, there was no question Trump was practically and morally responsible for inciting the Jan. 6 insurrection riot.

Real patriots vote their conscience. Real Republicans accept the results of elections. They suck it up if they dont like who got elected, just as the Democrats did in 2000, 2004 and 2016.

Real patriots dont betray their oath of office and vote even after the riot not to certify the free and fair election of Biden and Harris.

Eighteenth-century British pundit Samuel Johnson noted, Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel.

Former President Donald Trump is a lying, power-hungry scoundrel, and the people who blindly follow him are not patriots.

By their actions and rejection of reality, they have forfeited their right to call themselves patriots or to display the flag of the country they betrayed.

The election wasnt stolen, but the U.S. flag was.

Its our flag, and we want it back.

Tom Durkin is a freelance writer and photographer in Nevada City.

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Tom Durkin: Stop the steal of our flag - The Union of Grass Valley

Seemingly innocent images twisted into symbols of hate

Updated: 1:08 PM EST Feb 12, 2021

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MEREDITH: NEW TONIGHT, THEY MIGHT SEEM INNOCENT -- MEMES WITH CARTOON FROGS OR TATTOOS WITH ANCIENT SYMBOLS, BUT SOME OF THEM HAVE BEEN TAKEN OVER BY EXTREMISTS. JIM: AND THESE ARENT YOUR TYPICAL SYMBOLS OF HATE. WHEN YOU THINK OF HATEFUL EMBLEMS, YOU MIGHT THINK OF A SWASTIKA OR THE CONFEDERATE FLAG. BUT THE IMAGES WERE SHOWING YOU SEEM HARMLESS. WESH 2S MATT LUPOLI REVEALS THE MEANINGS BEHIND THESE DESIGNS. MATT: TATTOOS ARE SOMETIMES SEEN AS INVITATIONS FOR CONVERSATIONS ABOUT MEANING, GOING DEEPER THAN THE SURFACE. >> I DONT DO ANYTHING THAT I THINK WILL PUT ANYTHING MORE NEGATIVE IN THE WORLD. MATT: ARTIST SCOTT WHITE OWNS THE SHOP RISE ABOV HE AND THE OTHER ARTISTS HERE, LIKE MANY YOULL MEET ELSEWHERE, GIVE CAREFUL CONSIDERATION TO EACH DESIGN. HERE, INK ISNT WASTED ON ANYTHING CARRYING A HATEFUL CONNOTATIO THE LAST TIME IT HAPPENED, IT WAS GERMANIC SYMBOLS. >> YOU KNOW, GERMANIC SYMBOLS DONT NECESSARILY MEAN SOMEBODY IS A NAZI. THEY COULD BE GERMAN. BUT IT IS A TOUCHY SITUATION. >> THE THING ABOUT SYMBOLS IS, THEYRE MALLEABLE. MATT: MARK PITCAVAGE IS A SENIOR RESEARCH FELLOW AT THE ANTI-DEFAMATION LEAGUES CENTER ON EXTREMISM. ADL KEEPS TRACK OF SYMBOLS USED BY EXTREMISTS WITH A DATABASE OF OVER 200 SYMBOLS. SOME OF WHATS ON THE ADL LIST WAS SEEN AT THE DEADLY CAPITOL RIOT. THE LIST DETAILS PHRASES, ACRONYMS, NUMBERS, AND HAND SIGNALS, LIKE THE ONE LEADING TO A LAWSUIT AND A UNIVERSAL ORLANDO EMPLOYEES FIRING LAST YEAR. THE OK SYMBOL NOW REFERS TO WHITE POWER IN SOME CONTEXTS. LIKE MANY MIS-APPROPRIATED SYMBOLS, ITS DOUBLE MEANING STARTED AS A HOAX OR A JOKE ONLINE, THEN TOOK HOLD IN REALITY. MEANWHILE, NEW CODED DOUBLE-MEANINGS EMERGE ALL THE TIME. >> THE BOOGALOO MOVEMENT, WHICH IS AN ANTI-GOVERNMENT EXTREMIST MOVEMENT THAT HAS DEVELOPED WITHIN THE PAST YEAR OR TWO, IT VERY QUICKLY DEVELOPED ITS OWN SYMBOLS, IGLOOS, TROPICAL SHIRTS. MATT: BIG IGLOOS AND HAWAIIAN SHIRTS APPARENTLY STEM FROM AN INSIDE JOKE HARKENING TO AN ' 80S MOVIE SEQUEL WITH BOOGALOO IN ITS TITLE. SOMETIMES, NEW MEANINGS HARKEN BACK MUCH FURTHER. >> THE REALITY IS WHITE SUPREMACISTS AND FAR RIGHT MOVEMENTS GENERALLY HAVE PULLED FROM HISTORICAL PRECEDENT FOR A LONG TIME. MATT: MATTHEW GABRIELE CHAIRS THE RELIGION AND CULTURE DEPARTMENT AT VIRGINIA TECH. HE BELIEVES HISTORIC REFERENCES ARE SOMETIMES USED AS AN ATTEMPT TO LEGITIMIZE BIGOTED BELIEFS. WHETHER THEY REPRESENT CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS, OR ANCIENT VIKINGS. >> ITS DEFINITELY NOT A COINCIDENCE THAT THE B HISTORICAL PRECEDENCE THAT THESE GUYS DRAW ON ARE MILITARISTIC. MATT: SOME IN THE FAR-RIGHT USE THE PRE-ROMAN ALPHABET, KNOWN AS RUNES, LARGELY BECAUSE NAZ GERMANY OFTEN USED THE SYMBOLISM. >> I WATCHED 200 OR MAYBE 300 HOURS OF YOUTUBE VIDEOS AND COLLECTED THEM. MATT: DOUG CHARLES IS AN ADJUNCT PROFESSOR AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CENTRAL FLORIDA, PUTTING TOGETHER POST-DOCTORAL RESEARCH ON EXTREMISM. HE FINDS POPULAR CULTURE IS COMMANDEERED BY THE FRINGE, WITH MEMES TWISTED AWAY FROM THEIR ORIGINAL MEANINGS, TO SERVE AS RECRUITING TOOLS AND DOG WHISTLES. >> POST A PICTURE OF A PEPE FROG WEARING A NAZI UNIFORM, AND THEY CAN ALWAYS HAVE THAT ESCAPE HATCH OF SAYING, WELL, I WAS JUST JOKING. MATT: THE CARTOON PEPE THE FROG WASNT INTENDED TO BE RACIST, AND MOST THE POPULAR MEMES USING IT ARENT. BUT THROUGH UNREGULATED WEBSITES, THE FROG HAS BEEN OFTEN MISAPPROPRIATED BY THE ALT-RIGHT TO SEND RACIST AND ANTI-SEMITIC MESSAGES. SO MUCH SO, NOW THE FROG IS THE ADL LIST, JUST LIKE SO MANY OTHER SYMBOLS, WHETHER OBVIOUSLY OFFENSIVE OR INNOCUOUS ON THE SURFACE. MATT LUPOLI, WESH 2 NEWS

Seemingly innocent images twisted into symbols of hate

Updated: 1:08 PM EST Feb 12, 2021

Many symbols in life might seem innocent, such as memes with cartoon frogs or tattoos of ancient symbols, but some of these things have been taken over by extremists.When people think of hateful emblems, things like the swastika come to mind, but many other symbols WESH 2 News found seem harmless, but actually have hidden meanings.WESH 2 News reporter Matt Lupoli researched symbols of hate, and this is what he found. View the video above to see the complete story.

Many symbols in life might seem innocent, such as memes with cartoon frogs or tattoos of ancient symbols, but some of these things have been taken over by extremists.

When people think of hateful emblems, things like the swastika come to mind, but many other symbols WESH 2 News found seem harmless, but actually have hidden meanings.

WESH 2 News reporter Matt Lupoli researched symbols of hate, and this is what he found. View the video above to see the complete story.

Read this article:
Seemingly innocent images twisted into symbols of hate - WESH 2 Orlando

ROBERT E. LEE AND ME A Southerners Reckoning With the Myth of the Lost Cause By Ty Seidule291 pp. St. Martins. $27.99.

Long before the alt-right circled the statue of the Confederate general Robert E. Lee in Charlottesville in 2017, Seidule, a retired brigadier general and professor emeritus of military history at West Point, set out to understand why his academy continued to display a portrait of Lee, a graduate of the school who resigned his Army commission to fight against his country.

This investigation required that Seidule, a native Virginian and graduate of Washington and Lee University, examine his own reverence for Lee and the myth of the Lost Cause. The resulting book part autobiography, part history is a powerful and introspective look into white Americans continuing romance with the Confederacy, and the lasting damage that has done.

The chapters follow Seidules life, from his upbringing in Alexandria (which he later learned was a major slave-trading hub) and Monroe, Ga. (where a grisly 1946 quadruple lynching remains unsolved), to his Army career and years teaching at West Point. Along the way he explores Lost Cause ideology, which denies that slavery was the wars central motive; describes the pro-Confederate propaganda served to children in Southern schools in the 1960s and 70s; and illuminates the tortuous relationship between the U.S. Army and its greatest traitor.

The history of the Armys relationship to the Confederacy and Lee is fascinating, especially in light of current controversies over military bases named after Confederate commanders. After the Civil War, Seidule explains, West Point banished the Confederates from memory. The academys postwar motto, Duty, Honor, Country, was a rebuke to secession. Over the next century, however, Lee memorials began to appear. Seidule saw a pattern. Again and again, he says, progress toward integration and equal rights in the military was accompanied by Confederate memorialization.

The books epilogue sets out the reason for Lees treason: the protection of slavery. The evidence is clearly on Seidules side. It is long past time to break Lees grip on American Civil War memory. Seidule provides a blueprint for doing just that.

A SHOT IN THE MOONLIGHT How a Freed Slave and a Confederate Soldier Fought for Justice in the Jim Crow SouthBy Ben MontgomeryIllustrated. 285 pp. Little, Brown/Spark. $28.

The breathless title tells it all. The shot in the moonlight was fired by George Dinning, an emancipated slave, in defense of his home and family in Simpson County, Ky., in 1897. Dinnings target was a mob that had congregated at his home and accused him of theft; his shot killed a white farmer, the scion of a wealthy local family. Dinning was spirited away by a civic-minded sheriff determined to prevent a lynching. Denied that satisfaction, the mob burned Dinnings house to the ground.

Although Kentucky remained in the United States during the Civil War, it was rived politically and plagued by guerrilla violence long past 1865. By the turn of the century, the states white elite had grown impatient with mob violence, which marred its reputation and deterred investment. Kentuckys legislature passed an anti-lynching bill one month before Dinning stood trial for murder. Dinning could have been hanged, either by the mob or by the state. Instead, he was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to seven years in prison.

This sentence was too extreme for Gov. William Bradley, who pardoned Dinning, declaring that the fair name of Kentucky had been disgraced by mobs for too long. Noting that Dinnings conviction had been procured almost entirely on the evidence of his assailants, Bradley also affirmed Dinnings defense: that he had fired into the mob only after it had fired on him, and that he acted solely to protect his family.

Dinning, aided by his lawyer, Bennett Young a former Confederate soldier and humanitarian went on to sue members of the mob for the destruction of his home. They won a noteworthy victory in the Kentucky courts.

Montgomerys claim that a Black man in the South had sued his would-be lynchers and won is overstated. Its not clear that the men who congregated at Dinnings home intended to lynch him, and the lawsuit centered on the burned house, not on personal assault. Even so, its a good story, one that reveals the complicated history of the post-bellum South, a world that included brave freedmen, occasionally sympathetic white men and genuine commitment to law and order.

ECONOMY HALL The Hidden History of a Free Black Brotherhood By Fatima ShaikIllustrated. 525 pp. The Historic New Orleans Collection. $34.95.

Economy Hall is so inviting that the true depth of its scholarship is revealed only in its bibliography, which lists dozens of archival and other sources. Shaiks monumental book is anchored in 24 handwritten ledgers rescued from the trash by her father years ago. Her painstaking translation of the ledgers, and re-creation of the world that produced them, transports you to the orbit of the Socit dEconomie et dAssistance Mutuelle, a benevolent association and social club begun in 1836 by 15 French-speaking freemen of African descent in New Orleans. The book is simultaneously a history of the mens iconic meeting place, Economy Hall, and of the city they called home.

Alexis de Tocqueville, commenting on Americans propensity to form associations, called this art of joining the fundamental science of democracy. Shaik emphasizes the political activism of the New Orleans group. Whether refuting the claims of scientific racism, risking their lives for the right to vote or nurturing jazz and other forms of African-American culture, members of the Economie fought to participate in democratic life. Not all of their ventures achieved the desired outcome, as a coalition of New Orleans Black men that included a president of the Economie discovered in 1896, when the Supreme Court upheld Louisianas separate train car law in Plessy v. Ferguson.

After 1900, the Economie evolved from an elite to an inclusive society, Shaik writes. As segregation tightened across the South, the society was led by the son of a Black mother and a Jewish father and began to focus less on politics and more on culture, particularly jazz. Economie musicians shaped the new musical form, and Economy Hall became famous for its dance parties.

The book is organized around the life of Ludger Boguille, the groups long-serving secretary and a local leader of New Orleanss prosperous Creole community. A fierce advocate of Black suffrage, Boguille was nearly killed in 1866 when an armed mob led by police burst into a reconvened Louisiana constitutional convention. Boguille was also a teacher, who prescribed radical kindness for students and parents alike. The city of New Orleans is Boguilles co-star, and Shaiks rendition of her hometown is lyrical and mysterious and always captivating.

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Puncturing the Allure of Robert E. Lee, and Other Civil War-Era Histories - The New York Times