The Third Punic War (149–146 BC): The Total Destruction of Carthage

Carthage was thoroughly defeated and humiliated by the Romans during the Second Punic War. However, many in Rome feared Carthage’s rise and the potential dangers it could pose to the Romans. The Third Punic War was Rome’s final decisive strike to erase Carthage from the map. The war was simple, straightforward, and one-sided. It ended with the complete annihilation of one of the ancient world’s greatest cities: Carthage.

Part 1 in this series on the Punic Wars is here and part 2 is here.

The Catapult (1868) by Edward Poynter. This depicts the Roman siege of Carthage.

The Harsh Aftermath of the Second Punic War

Rome ensured that Carthage could never challenge them ever again. The terms offered to Carthage after its defeat in 201 BC at the end of the Second Punic War were deliberately severe.

Ÿ  Carthage lost all of its overseas territories, including Spain, and much of its influence in the western Mediterranean.

Ÿ  It was forced to pay a massive indemnity of 10,000 silver talents over 50 years, surrender hostages, and drastically reduce its military capacity.

Ÿ  Its once mighty navy was reduced to just ten ships.

Ÿ  Carthage was forbidden from waging war without Roman approval. They would exploit this clause to instigate the Third Punic War.

Carthage was humiliated by these conditions and reduced to a mere client state of Rome. The Carthaginians were unable to even defend themselves from their hostile neighbors. King Masinissa of Numidia repeatedly raided Carthaginian territory and seized their land. Masinissa was an ally of Rome, and so even when Carthage repeatedly appealed to Rome for mediation or permission to respond, Rome consistently sided with its ally.

Carthage’s Economic Revival

Despite the growing threat of the Numidians and the crippling restrictions imposed by Rome, Carthage demonstrated remarkable resilience. By the mid-2nd century BC, Carthage had recovered economically. It had rebuilt its trade networks, and agriculture flourished. Carthage successfully paid off its massive indemnity to Rome and reestablished itself as a thriving commercial hub.

Both ancient and modern sources emphasize this revival. The mighty city of Carthage was once again prosperous, wealthy, and growing in confidence. Rome observed the economic revival of Carthage cautiously. Carthage was still not a military threat; however, its economic growth alarmed Rome. With their newfound wealth and stability, Carthage could, in time, rebuild its power. They could also seek revenge for the humiliation they faced at the hands of the Romans. To the Romans, this possibility was unacceptable.

Why Rome Wanted to Destroy Carthage

Rome’s decision to destroy Carthage was based on a sequence of events and not a sudden decision. The need to destroy Carthage emerged from a combination of fear, ambition, revenge, and political pressure.

Rome was shaken by Hannibal’s unexpected invasion of the Italian mainland. The major defeats that they faced continued to haunt them for ages. Hannibal Barca had brought Rome to the brink of destruction, only to be saved by enforcing a humiliating Fabian strategy of avoiding battle. Rome did not want to risk facing such a threat again.

Economic and Strategic Motives

Carthage’s economic boom was due to its fertile lands and natural wealth. This was an attractive objective for the Romans planning to expand their territory. Control of North Africa would also allow the Romans to dominate naval trade in the Mediterranean. Some historians suggest that access to Carthaginian resources, such as mines and agricultural wealth, was a motivating factor.

Political Pressure and Cato the Elder

There were many people in the Roman Senate who wanted to destroy Carthage. The most famous driver of anti-Carthaginian sentiment was the Roman statesman Cato the Elder.

After visiting Carthage, Cato was alarmed by its sudden prosperity. He believed that Carthage would rise to be a potential enemy, and Rome’s survival required the total destruction of its rival. From then on, he ended every speech in the Senate with a variation of the phrase:

“Carthage must be destroyed.”

This slowly shifted Rome’s stance on how to deal with Carthage. Over time, Rome would take on a more aggressive stance.

Deliberate Provocation

The Numidians were constantly harassing Carthaginian territories. The situation grew worse by the day until they could no longer sustain the loss of territories. By the mid-2nd century BC, many Roman leaders were actively looking for a justification for war. The casus belli soon presented itself.

After decades of harassment, Carthage finally could not bear it any longer. The senate decided to raise an army and start a campaign against Masinissa during 151-150 BC. This act of war against the Numidians was done without acquiring permission from Rome, which violated the treaty signed at the end of the Second Punic War.

The war went horribly wrong for Carthage. Their army was defeated, and lost a large number of soldiers. This, however, was not the end of their misfortune. Rome was waiting for a legal justification to crush Carthage once and for all. The breach of the treaty gave them the cause to start the Third Punic War. In 149 BC, Rome declared war and landed a massive army in North Africa, near the city of Utica.

Rome’s Conditions for Surrender

Carthage was not prepared or willing to fight another war with Rome. They did not have a strong navy or a veteran army to deal with Roman aggression. Carthage was willing to make sacrifices to ensure its survival. But Rome’s true intentions soon became clear. Rome made a series of increasing demands on Carthage.

First, the Carthaginians were required to surrender hostages from noble families, all weapons, and military equipment. The Carthaginians complied and surrendered all their equipment, including:

Ÿ  300 hostages

Ÿ  200,000 sets of armor

Ÿ  2,000 catapults

Ÿ  Their remaining warships

At this stage, Carthage was effectively defenseless, having surrendered all its weapons and equipment. Then came the final demand. Rome ordered the entire population of Carthage to abandon the city and relocate at least 16 kilometers inland. The city itself would be destroyed. This was fundamentally unacceptable for the Carthaginians. Being a maritime trading power, relocating inland would spell doom for their livelihood. Faced with this ultimatum, Carthage chose resistance.

Major Events of the War

The Siege Begins (149 BC)

Unlike the other Punic Wars that saw two evenly matched rivals battle it out, the Third Punic War saw Rome finish off a weak Carthage. The Roman forces that landed in North Africa quickly surrounded Carthage and laid siege to the city.

Despite expecting a quick and easy victory, the Romans encountered fierce resistance. Despite surrendering all their weapons, the Carthaginians mobilized their entire population for war. Weapons were produced in record numbers, slaves were freed to fight, and their defenses were strengthened. For two agonizing years, Roman efforts failed to break the city.

Carthaginian Resistance

Despite their bleak situation, Carthage demonstrated remarkable resilience:

Ÿ  Weapons were produced daily in large quantities to arm the defenders.

Ÿ  The population was fully mobilized, and they were motivated to fight to the death.

Ÿ  The city’s defensive walls were strong and held against repeated assaults.

Roman overconfidence had cost the army dearly, as even the mighty Roman army suffered setbacks during the early phases of the siege.

Rise of Scipio Aemilianus (147 BC)

The Romans were getting impatient and desperate. Breaking with their traditions, they appointed Scipio Aemilianus as Roman commander despite not meeting the usual age requirements, indicating Rome’s desperation for victory. Scipio quickly made changes by reorganizing the army, restoring discipline, and implementing a more effective strategy.

Tightening the Siege

Scipio’s key strategy was to completely isolate Carthage and force it into a chokehold. He wanted to prevent the arrival of supplies through the harbor and starve the city into submission. To achieve this, he ordered the construction of a massive mole, or breakwater, across the harbor. This was to enforce a naval blockade of the city by preventing any ships from entering or leaving through the harbor. At the same time, Roman forces also cut off supply routes on land and tightened their grip on the surrounding land. No food, reinforcements, or resources could reach Carthage anymore. The battle quickly turned into a prolonged war of attrition. With resources dwindling, the defenders were gradually weakened by hunger, disease, and Roman harassment.

Naval Engagements

In a surprising move, Carthage rebuilt a fleet of 50 triremes and smaller ships and launched a naval attack on the Roman blockade. This took the Romans completely by surprise, who were not expecting the Carthaginians to have any naval warships. They were initially successful utilizing their smaller size and maneuverability against the heavy Roman ships. Things soon changed as the Carthaginian ships got caught in the congested harbor entrance, leading to heavy losses. Rome had effectively neutralized the threat to their blockade.

The Fall of Carthage (146 BC)

Sensing that the defenders were weak and near collapse, Scipio ordered a final assault on the city in 146 BC. The Carthaginian walls were finally breached and devolved into brutal urban warfare for six days. The Roman forces had to fight house-to-house to capture each and every inch of the city. Despite their brave and desperate resistance, the defenders were overwhelmed, and the city eventually fell.

The consequences of the siege were catastrophic for the Carthaginians. The battle lasted six days and devolved into brutal urban warfare. Roman forces fought house-to-house through the city, encountering desperate resistance from the Carthaginian defenders. Eventually, Carthage fell. Along with the city, 450,000 to 750,000 Carthaginians perished during the three-year conflict, according to ancient sources. 50,000 survivors were enslaved. The city was systematically destroyed brick by brick. The city of Carthage ceased to exist on that day.

Roman Dominance

Carthage was Rome’s main rival in the western Mediterranean. With Carthage gone, Rome became the undisputed power in the region. Its control over North Africa provided resources, wealth, and a strategic advantage. The former Carthaginian territories were then reorganized into the Roman province of Africa, with Utica as its capital.

A Symbol of Total War

The Third Punic War is one of the earliest instances of total war - a conflict aimed not just at victory, but at the total destruction of an enemy. Rome’s actions were driven by a combination of fear, ambition, and ideology. The elimination of Carthage ensured that no rival could challenge Roman supremacy again.

Conclusion

The Third Punic War was a one-sided conflict. Unlike the previous Punic Wars, Carthage was no longer a military power. However, their economic revival was noticed by Rome, which still feared another debacle like the Second Punic War. The war became unavoidable due to decades of tension, mistrust, and strategic calculation. Carthage was forced to violate the terms of the previous treaty and given no option but to fight to the death. Its destruction stands as one of history’s starkest reminders of how fear and ambition can lead to annihilation.

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References and Links

Ÿ  Appian of Alexandria. The Punic Wars.
Available at: https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Appian%2C+The+Punic+Wars

Ÿ  Polybius. Histories (Book 36, fragments).
Available at: https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Polybius+Histories

Ÿ  Livy. Periochae (Summary of Book 49).
Available at: https://www.perseus.tufts.edu

Ÿ  Plutarch. Life of Cato the Elder.
Available at: https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Plutarch+Cato

Ÿ  Adrian Goldsworthy. The Fall of Carthage: The Punic Wars 265–146 BC. London: Cassell, 2000.

Ÿ  Richard Miles. Carthage Must Be Destroyed. London: Penguin, 2011.

Ÿ  Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Third Punic War.”
https://www.britannica.com/event/Third-Punic-War

Ÿ  World History Encyclopedia. “Third Punic War.”
https://www.worldhistory.org/Third_Punic_War/

The Origins of the War of the Breton Succession: What Happened in France?

The War of the Breton Succession or the Breton War of Succession (1341–1365) was a war over the succession of the Duchy of Brittany, northern France. The war was a major conflict within the wider Hundred Years’ War, which drove both France and England into a struggle for dominance.

Marriage of Charles IV and Marie of Luxembourg, by Jean Fouquet.

Downfall

Before the turmoil of the Hundred Years’ War, France had experienced a period of prosperity. However, the last Capetian king of France, Charles IV, passed away in 1328, ending a dynasty that had ruled since the 10th century and passing the crown to the House of Valois. His death raised a pressing question: what would happen next? Before Charles’ death, his father, Philip IV—known for various campaigns, including wars with England, the Flemish, and the papacy—had held the upper hand. Philip transformed France and challenged the powerful English, but the years following his death did not go well for the French. His three sons—Louis X, Philip V, and Charles IV—left no male heirs to the throne and faced constant threats on all sides from the Flemish and the English. Even before Philip took the throne, Louis IX of France had expanded royal power from the early 13th century, seizing English-held lands in France from the weakened King John and his son Henry III.

 Phillip saw it as his chance to keep the power, but quickly drove France into more debt and begged the church for more money. With his death on the line, some of the feudal powers that France controlled started to rebel. One main issue when Phillips' sons took power was the constant threat from the Flemish, and the areas of Modern-day Belgium, which saw their chance to rebel, and France had to stop them. Face forward after the death of Charles in 1328, France was a powerful kingdom, slowly dying internally.  The morale of the people fell as France's leadership in military power and threats on all ends, including the start of a major war in 1337, where Edward III claimed himself king of France.  Philip saw this as his chance to retain power, but he quickly drove France into deeper debt and was forced to beg the church for more money. As his death approached, some of the feudal powers that France controlled began to rebel. One main issue when Philip’s sons took power was the constant threat from the Flemish in the areas of modern-day Belgium, who saw their chance to rebel and whom France had to suppress. By the time of Charles’s death in 1328, France was a powerful kingdom that was slowly dying from within. The morale of the people fell as France’s military leadership weakened and threats mounted on every side, culminating in the start of a major war in 1337, when Edward III claimed himself king of France.

The start of the war proved a challenge for France as the battles were like a tennis match for both sides.  However, in 1341, the death of John III of Brittany impacted French soil. Brittany was in the northern part of France and was a key figure in French politics, with a goal of trying to remain balanced for the French throne.  His death didn't just drive France further down, but also brought the whole war together over one land.  The start of the war proved a challenge for France, as the battles went back and forth like a tennis match between the two sides. However, in 1341, John III of Brittany died in France. Brittany was in the northern part of France and was a key region in French politics, striving to remain balanced in its loyalty to the French throne. His death did not only drive France further down; it also drew the entire war to bear on France.

A Change in the Tide

John III, Duke of Brittany ( 1289-1341) was the son of Arthur, Duke of Brittany, and Marie, Viscountess of Limoges. Not much is known about his childhood, but he married Isabella of Valois, which gave him a connection to the future house of Valois through Isabella’s father, Charles of Valois.  John married three times throughout his life, which had an impact on power and trade from all over the Duchy. John, just like the French kings, did not have an heir and was possibly thinking of giving the duchy to France if he died, for a new way of gaining power. However, his half-brother, John, Duke of Montfort, who plays a much bigger role later, wanted the duchy after his death. This, in fact, did not work out as Montfort, soon after his death, claimed power for the Duchy itself. John III, Duke of Brittany (1289–1341), was the son of Arthur, Duke of Brittany, and Marie, Viscountess of Limoges. Not much is known about his childhood, but he married Isabella of Valois, a union that gave him a connection to the future House of Valois through Isabella’s father, Charles of Valois. John married three times throughout his life, with consequences for power and trade across the region. Like the French kings, John had no heir and may have considered ceding the duchy to France upon his death as a means of gaining power. However, his half-brother, John, Duke of Montfort—who would play a much bigger role later—wanted the duchy after John III’s death. This did not come to pass, as Montfort, soon after John III’s death, claimed the duchy for himself.

Montfort indeed came and took his place for power and control, with the English side facing the high ground. Arthur indeed had another heir when John died, who was in fact Guy, Count of Penthièvere, who passed away in 1331, but his daughter Joan of Penthièvere married Charles of Blois, in which both he and Montfort fought over the duchy.  Now, with the issue of the heirs coming into play, why does France need to get involved? At the start of the Hundred Years War, Gascony played a key role in the region of the war, as the forces of Edward III came crashing down into France. Montfort moved quickly to claim power and control, with the English at his back. Arthur had in fact had another heir, Guy, Count of Penthièvre, who had passed away in 1331; Guy’s daughter, Joan of Penthièvre, married Charles of Blois, and both Charles and Montfort fought over the duchy. Now, with the question of the heirs in play, why did France need to get involved? At the start of the Hundred Years’ War, Gascony played a key role in the conflict, as the forces of Edward III came crashing into France.

 The Hundred Years War saw a chance for England to claim France after the succession crisis in 1328. France did not allow women to rule due to the Salic Law, and was panicking as to who could be the new heir for the French throne, which was the house of Valois.  Edward can trace his claims as the cousin to the late king, as her mother, Isabella of France, also known as the “She Wolf”. This can be traced as much to the start of the war as Gascony was key, but also a succession crisis that brought panic to French soil. France needed all the help it could get, as Brittany was a territory that built stability within the region for France. Without a perfect ally, how would France survive, especially in the need of defeating a larger force and soon a force of France's enemies that comes together to face France? If John had heirs, the war wouldn’t be an issue, especially for a conflict that became a large problem of the French debt. On April 30, 1341, John III, Duke of Brittany, passed away, initially starting a succession that lasted until 1365, deciding who would be the next Duke of Brittany. Both Charles of Blois and John, the Duke of Montfort, joined forces to claim Brittany. It didn't just stop as both France and England fought on both sides, widening the war. The Breton War of Succession is one war forgotten to many, but a conflict for who wants France and how.The Hundred Years’ War gave England a chance to claim France after the succession crisis of 1328. France did not allow women to rule under the Salic Law, and the kingdom was panicking over who could be the new heir to the French throne—a question ultimately answered by the House of Valois. Edward could trace his claim through his mother, Isabella of France, also known as the “She-Wolf,” who was sister to the late king. This claim, alongside Gascony, was a key factor at the start of the war, and the succession crisis brought panic to French soil. France needed all the help it could get, as Brittany was a territory that brought stability to the region. Without a strong ally, how could France survive—especially when it needed to defeat a larger force soon to be joined by other enemies? Had John left heirs, the war might have been avoided, sparing France a conflict that contributed greatly to its debt. On April 30, 1341, John III, Duke of Brittany, passed away, beginning a succession dispute that would last until 1365 and decide the next Duke of Brittany. Both Charles of Blois and John, Duke of Montfort, vied to claim Brittany. The conflict did not stop there, as both France and England backed opposing sides, widening the war.

The War of the Breton Succession is forgotten by many, yet it remained a critical struggle over who would control France- and how.

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Bibliography:

GRAHAM-GOERING, E. (2021). Princely power in late medieval France: Jeanne de Penthievre and the war for Brittany. CAMBRIDGE UNIV PRESS.

Sumption, J. (1991). The Hundred Years War. University of Pennsylvania Press.

The Story of King Henry VIII – Part 1

The story of King Henry VIII is often told through the dramatic rise and fall of his six wives, yet to understand those stories fully one must begin with the king himself—a ruler whose personal ambitions, insecurities, and convictions reshaped England politically, socially, and religiously. He was not born to be king, nor initially raised for the role, but circumstance and dynastic fragility propelled him onto the throne and into history as one of the most consequential monarchs in European history.

Terry Bailey explains.

King Henry VIII by Joos van Cleve .

Henry was born in 1491, the second son of Henry VII, the founder of the Tudor Dynasty. His father's reign had brought an end to the Wars of the Roses, a prolonged period of dynastic conflict that had devastated the English nobility and left the monarchy precariously balanced. As a younger son, Henry was not initially burdened with the expectations of kingship. Instead, he received the education of a Renaissance prince, immersed in theology, classical languages, music, and philosophy. He became an accomplished musician and a skilled linguist, embodying the ideals of a cultivated ruler. His upbringing instilled not only intellectual confidence but also a deep awareness of the fragility of dynastic power, a lesson that would later shape his reign in profound ways.

The sudden death of his elder brother, Arthur Tudor, altered Henry's destiny overnight. No longer a spare heir, he became the focal point of Tudor continuity. When he ascended the throne in 1509, he did so as a young man of eighteen, admired for his physical prowess and charm. Contemporary observers described him as the embodiment of kingship—tall, athletic, and charismatic, with a commanding presence that inspired loyalty and admiration. He excelled in jousting tournaments, hunting expeditions, and courtly entertainments, projecting an image of vitality and strength that reinforced his authority.

Yet beneath this image lay a more complex personality. Henry possessed a strong sense of his own importance and an expectation of obedience that would deepen over time. In the early years of his reign, he governed in collaboration with capable advisers, most notably Thomas Wolsey, whose administrative skill and diplomatic acumen helped shape England's foreign and domestic policies. Under Wolsey's guidance, Henry pursued military campaigns in France and sought to position England as a significant player in European politics. The Tudor court flourished as a center of culture and influence, attracting scholars, artists, and diplomats who contributed to its reputation as one of the most sophisticated courts in Europe.

However, Henry's desire for glory and recognition often placed a strain on the kingdom's resources. His ambitions extended beyond mere stability; he sought to rival the great monarchs of Europe, engaging in costly wars and elaborate displays of power. Court life, while dazzling, was also intensely political. Favour could be won through loyalty and service but lost just as quickly through miscalculation or perceived betrayal. This environment fostered a culture in which personal relationships were inseparable from political advancement, setting the stage for the central role that marriage would play in Henry's reign.

The defining transformation of Henry's kingship emerged from what began as a deeply personal crisis. His marriage to his first wife failed to produce a surviving male heir, a situation that threatened the stability of the Tudor line. Haunted by the memory of civil war and driven by the belief that a secure succession was essential to national stability, Henry became increasingly determined to resolve what he saw as both a personal and dynastic failure. When his request for an annulment was denied by Pope Clement VII, Henry's response set in motion one of the most significant religious upheavals in English history.

The English Reformation marked a decisive break with the authority of the Roman Catholic Church. By asserting his supremacy over the Church in England, Henry redefined the relationship between religion and the state. This was not initially a move driven by theological conviction but by political necessity and personal determination. Nevertheless, the consequences were far-reaching. The dissolution of monasteries redistributed vast amounts of wealth and land, altering the social and economic landscape of the kingdom. Religious practices and identities shifted, often causing tension and resistance among the population. Henry's actions demonstrated how deeply intertwined religion and politics had become, each shaping and reinforcing the other.

At the center of these developments was Henry's relentless pursuit of a male heir. His obsession with succession was not simply a matter of personal preference but a reflection of the precarious nature of Tudor legitimacy. Without a clear line of succession, the kingdom risked descending once again into conflict. This urgency drove Henry to make decisions that would have profound consequences for himself and those around him. His marriages became instruments of policy, alliances, and ambition, each one reflecting the intersection of personal desire and political necessity.

The evolution of Henry's character over the course of his reign is one of the most striking aspects of his story. The vibrant and charismatic young king gradually gave way to a more authoritarian and, at times, ruthless ruler. Physical injuries, including those sustained in jousting accidents, contributed to a decline in his health and temperament. As he aged, he became increasingly suspicious and less tolerant of dissent. Trusted advisers could fall from favor with alarming speed, and those who failed to meet his expectations often faced severe consequences. This transformation not only affected his governance but also had a direct impact on his wives, whose fortunes were closely tied to his changing moods and priorities.

The experiences of Henry's queens highlight the complex dynamics of power and gender in Tudor England. While queens could exert influence and play significant roles in court politics, their primary function was to secure the succession. Their value was often measured by their ability to produce a male heir, and their positions were inherently precarious. In this context, marriage was both a personal relationship and a political contract, one that could elevate a woman to the highest position in the land or lead to her downfall. The fates of Henry's wives—ranging from coronation to execution—underscore the risks inherent in a system where personal and political interests were so closely intertwined.

Henry's reign also had a lasting impact on the structure and identity of the English monarchy. By establishing the monarch as the head of the Church of England, he expanded the scope of royal authority in unprecedented ways. This shift not only strengthened the power of the crown but also set the stage for future monarchies and political developments. The legacy of his decisions would be felt in the reigns of his children, particularly Elizabeth I, whose rule would solidify many of the changes initiated during her father's time.

As the opening scene in this series, Henry's story provides the foundation for understanding the lives and experiences of his six wives. Each marriage was shaped by the king's evolving character, his political ambitions, and the broader forces at play in Tudor England. Together, these stories reveal a world in which power, religion, and personal relationships were deeply interconnected, and where the actions of a single individual could alter the course of a nation's history.

In examining Henry VIII, one encounters a figure of profound contradictions: a patron of learning and culture who could also be merciless, a defender of faith who ultimately broke from the Church, a king driven by both genuine concern for his realm and an unyielding desire for control. His reign stands as a testament to the complexity of leadership and the enduring impact of personal decisions on the broader sweep of history.

In conclusion, the reign of Henry VIII cannot be reduced to the familiar sequence of six marriages, however dramatic their outcomes. Rather, those marriages were the outward expression of deeper forces rooted in the king's character and the fragile political landscape he inherited. His life illustrates how the private anxieties of a monarch, fear of dynastic collapse, desire for legacy, and need for authority can reverberate outward, reshaping institutions, beliefs, and the lives of an entire nation. The Tudor court, for all its splendor and intellectual vitality, was ultimately an extension of Henry himself: ambitious, brilliant, unpredictable, and at times dangerously volatile.

The transformation of England during his reign was neither accidental nor inevitable, but the result of deliberate choices made under pressure. The break with Rome, the redefinition of royal supremacy, and the sweeping redistribution of wealth through the dissolution of the monasteries were all tied to Henry's determination to secure what he believed was England's future. Yet these actions came at significant cost, social upheaval, religious division, and a climate of uncertainty that would persist long after his death. In this sense, Henry's legacy is not one of simple progress or decline, but of profound and often turbulent change, driven by the intersection of personal will and political necessity.

Equally significant is the way in which his reign exposes the precarious position of those closest to power. The stories of his queens are not merely personal tragedies or triumphs; they are reflections of a system in which influence was conditional and security fleeting. Each marriage reveals a different facet of Henry's evolving priorities and temperament, as well as the broader expectations placed upon queenship in Tudor England. Through them, we see how power operated not only through institutions, but through relationships, fragile, strategic, and often perilous.

Ultimately, the enduring significance of Henry VIII lies in the scale of his impact. He did not simply rule England; he redefined what it meant to be its king. By concentrating both political and religious authority in the crown, he altered the trajectory of the English monarchy and laid the groundwork for the transformations that would follow under his children, particularly Elizabeth I. His reign stands as a pivotal moment in the transition from medieval to early modern England, where questions of authority, faith, and governance were contested and reshaped.

As this series unfolds, the lives of his six wives will bring these themes into sharper focus, each narrative illuminating the human consequences of Henry's rule. Their experiences, set against the backdrop of a changing kingdom, offer insight not only into the man himself but into the nature of power in an age of transformation. To understand them is to understand Henry and to understand Henry is to grasp how a single ruler's ambitions and fears could alter the course of history in ways that still resonate today.

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From Soviet Subsidies to Chronic Blackouts: Cuba’s Economy from the 1980s to 2026

In the 1980s, Cuba’s economy operated as a heavily subsidized outpost of the Soviet bloc, with massive external support masking deep structural weaknesses. Decades later, after the loss of its primary benefactor and repeated shifts in external alliances, the island faces one of its most prolonged economic crises, marked by widespread energy blackouts, food shortages, hyperinflation, and large-scale emigration. This comparison reveals both continuity in central planning and the recurring consequences of heavy dependence on external aid.

Lilian George explains.

Horse transport in Cuba in the 1990s. Source/Attribution: Nick, available here.

The 1980s: An Economy Built on Soviet Generosity

During the 1980s, Cuba’s economy was deeply integrated into the socialist bloc. The Soviet Union provided substantial subsidies through preferential trade terms — buying Cuban sugar at prices well above the world market and selling oil at discounted rates. These inflows averaged nearly 23 percent of Cuba’s GDP between 1985 and 1988, reaching as high as $4.3 billion annually in some estimates.

The arrangement allowed Cuba to re-export much of the subsidized Soviet oil for hard currency, which often accounted for more than 40 percent of the country’s total export revenues. Sugar remained the dominant export, but the economy was highly centralized, with the state controlling nearly all production and distribution. Official statistics showed average daily caloric availability around 2,900–3,050 kcal per person. However, this national average masked significant daily struggles for ordinary families. The rationing system provided a monotonous diet heavy in starches, with limited protein and fresh produce, and many households experienced ongoing scarcity despite the Soviet subsidies.

The Shrinking Safety Net: Rationing from the 1980s to 2026

Rationing through the libreta de abastecimiento (ration book) has been a cornerstone of Cuban daily life since 1962. In the 1980s, the system provided relatively stable and more generous quotas of basic goods — rice, beans, sugar, oil, eggs, and occasional meat or coffee — supported by Soviet subsidies. While variety was limited and everything was tightly controlled, the rationing system functioned as a predictable safety net for most families.

By 2026, the libreta has become far less effective. Quotas have been repeatedly reduced, deliveries are often late or incomplete, and the quality of goods has declined. Starting in April 2026, the government began phasing out universal subsidies on most rationed items, shifting instead toward targeted assistance only for the most vulnerable households. Many staples now arrive in quantities that last only 10–15 days per month rather than the full month. Fuel shortages and frequent blackouts further complicate distribution and storage.

As a result, the ration book no longer offers the same level of protection against hunger that it did in the 1980s. Most families must supplement the libreta with purchases on the open or informal market, where prices are significantly higher due to inflation and dollarization.

The Shock of the 1990s: The Special Period and Total Collapse

The sudden dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991 triggered a catastrophic economic contraction known as the “Special Period in Time of Peace.” The loss of Soviet subsidies — estimated at $4–6 billion per year — caused Cuba’s GDP to fall by approximately 33–40 percent between 1990 and 1993. Average daily caloric intake dropped sharply from around 2,900–3,050 kcal in the late 1980s to roughly 1,863–2,099 kcal in 1993 (with some reports and vulnerable groups experiencing even lower levels). This translated into widespread hunger, significant weight loss across the population, and severe nutritional deficiencies.

Power blackouts became routine, sometimes lasting up to 20 hours a day. Agricultural production plummeted due to lack of fuel, fertilizers, and machinery. The government responded with emergency measures, including limited openings to foreign investment and tourism, but the decade was defined by h

ardship, scarcity, and improvisation.

Partial Recovery and Shifting Dependencies (2000–2020)

In the early 2000s, Cuba found a new external partner in Venezuela under Hugo Chávez. The two countries signed agreements under which Venezuela supplied subsidized oil in exchange for Cuban medical personnel and other services. This provided a temporary lifeline, though it never matched the scale or stability of Soviet support.

Under Raúl Castro (who assumed power in 2008), limited reforms were introduced, including greater space for small private businesses, some foreign investment in tourism, and efforts to unify the dual-currency system. Tourism became an important source of hard currency. However, the underlying model of central planning remained largely intact.

The Current Crisis (2021–2026): Deeper and More Prolonged?

Since the early 2020s, Cuba’s economy has struggled with multiple shocks, including the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on tourism, sharply reduced Venezuelan oil deliveries, and long-standing structural problems. Official data show negative or near-zero growth in several recent years, with independent estimates suggesting a cumulative contraction of around 10–15 percent.

Chronic fuel shortages have led to frequent nationwide blackouts, sometimes lasting days. Agricultural output has reached historic lows in key products. Inflation has remained high, and the Cuban peso has depreciated significantly against the US dollar on the informal market.

Growing Dependence on Remittances and Dollarization

A defining feature of the current economic landscape is the increasing reliance on remittances sent by Cuban emigrants, primarily in US dollars. Estimates place annual remittances at around $3 billion, accounting for roughly 8.3 percent of Cuba’s GDP. Nearly 70 percent of the population receives some form of remittance support.

This inflow has accelerated the dollarization of the economy. Many goods and services — especially in the informal and emerging private sectors — are now priced or only available in US dollars or other hard currencies. Those with access to remittances have significantly higher purchasing power, while those relying solely on state salaries face deepening hardship. The surge in emigration since 2020 has paradoxically strengthened this channel, but it has also exacerbated inequality.

Medicine and Healthcare: From Partial Coverage to Systemic Strain

Cuba’s healthcare system, long presented as one of the revolution’s major achievements, has faced recurring challenges with medical supplies. In the 1980s, there were already periods when hospitals struggled to meet basic needs due to inefficiencies in the centralized system, even with Soviet support providing some stability in pharmaceuticals and equipment.

By 2026, the situation has deteriorated significantly. Hospitals and clinics report severe shortages of essential medicines, antibiotics, surgical gloves, and basic supplies. Power outages lasting 20 hours or more disrupt critical services such as dialysis, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, neonatal care, and refrigeration for vaccines and medications. Pharmaceutical production inside Cuba has slowed sharply due to fuel shortages affecting factories.

As of early 2026, more than 96,000 patients were waiting for surgeries (including thousands of children), with many procedures postponed or canceled. Independent reports indicate that only about 3 percent of citizens can consistently find needed medicines in state pharmacies, while black-market prices make them unaffordable for most. The recent cutoff of Venezuelan oil supplies in 2026 has further worsened the crisis by intensifying blackouts and limiting the transport of medical staff and supplies.

Impact of Developments in Venezuela (2026)

The situation deteriorated sharply in early 2026 following the US intervention in Venezuela and the capture of President Nicolás Maduro. Venezuela had been supplying Cuba with approximately 26,000–35,000 barrels of oil per day in 2025 (down from much higher volumes in previous years). After the intervention, shipments effectively stopped as the United States exerted control over Venezuelan oil exports and imposed restrictions on flows to Cuba.

The sudden cutoff removed a critical portion of Cuba’s fuel supply, triggering more frequent and prolonged nationwide blackouts, further disruptions to food distribution, and additional pressure on an already strained economy. While Mexico had briefly become the top supplier in 2025, overall imports remain far below what is needed to meet demand. The loss of the Venezuelan lifeline has compounded existing vulnerabilities.

Why Recovery Has Proved Elusive

Cuba’s economic difficulties stem from a combination of internal factors — decades of central planning, low productivity, underinvestment in infrastructure, and policy inconsistency — and external shocks, including the loss of major benefactors and shifting geopolitical pressures. While tourism, limited private enterprise, and remittances have provided some relief, they have not offset the structural weaknesses. As of 2026, the economy continues to face significant challenges in restoring reliable energy supply, boosting agricultural and pharmaceutical production, and reversing emigration trends.

Lilian’s book, The Cuban Manuscript is available here: Amazon US | Amazon UK

References

• Hernández-Catá, Ernesto (2013). “Cuba, the Soviet Union, and Venezuela: A Tale of Dependence and Shock.” ASCE Proceedings

• BTI Project (2026). Cuba Country Report

• Orozco, Manuel (2024). Remittances studies, Inter-American Dialogue

• Reports from Havana Times, Reuters, and Lancet Oncology on medicine shortages and healthcare conditions (2025–2026)

• Various ASCE and independent economic analyses (2025–2026)

George Eastman: The Man Who Put Photography in the Hands of the World

George Eastman (1854-1932) stands as one of the most consequential figures in the history of photography—not because he invented the medium, but because he changed who it belonged to. Through technical innovation, shrewd business strategy, and a stubborn belief in simplicity, he helped move photography from a demanding scientific craft into a shared social habit. In doing so, he reshaped how modern life is documented and remembered, building Kodak into one of the most influential companies of the industrial age.

Brian D’Ambrosio explains.

George Eastman.

Born on July 12, 1854, in Waterville, New York, Eastman grew up in modest circumstances. His father, George Washington Eastman, died in 1862, forcing him to leave school early and help support the family. He found steady work as a bank clerk in Rochester—a job that sharpened his methodical habits but offered little outlet for invention. Photography entered his life in the late 1870s, when he bought equipment for a planned vacation. What he encountered—glass plates, bulky cameras, portable darkrooms, and finicky chemistry—was so cumbersome that it pointed to a different problem. Photography’s greatest obstacle was not artistic skill. It was, perhaps, access.

By then, photography had already evolved through several distinct phases. Since the unveiling of the daguerreotype and calotype in 1839, the medium had advanced in fits and starts. The wet-plate collodion process of the 1850s produced sharper images but required photographers to coat, expose, and develop plates while still wet, often on location. It was exacting work—expensive, technical, and largely confined to professionals. Eastman, working at first with limited support, began to focus less on image quality than on ease of use—a quiet shift that would, indeed, alter the medium’s future.

Success

His first major success came in 1880 with a machine for coating dry photographic plates. Unlike wet plates, these could be prepared in advance, stored, and used when needed. In 1881, he incorporated the Eastman Dry Plate Company in Rochester, laying the groundwork for what would become the Eastman Kodak Company.

The real breakthrough followed quickly. In 1884, Eastman introduced roll film, initially backed with paper, replacing fragile glass plates and making smaller, more practical cameras possible. Four years later, Kodak released its first camera, preloaded with enough film for 100 exposures and marketed with the now-famous slogan, “You press the button, we do the rest.” Customers mailed the camera back for developing, printing, and reloading. With that, nearly every technical barrier fell away.

The effect was immediate. Photography slipped its tripod and chemistry kit and went out into the world—portable, affordable, and within reach of people who had never considered using a camera. In 1889, Kodak introduced transparent flexible film, a development essential not only to still photography but to the emerging motion-picture industry. Early pioneers, including Thomas Edison and his collaborators, relied on such film stock, extending Eastman’s influence into cinema. Photography, once slow and deliberate, began to move—into narrative, into motion, and into mass circulation, perhaps the most far-reaching consequence of his work.

Under Eastman’s leadership, Kodak expanded aggressively in the early twentieth century. The introduction of the Brownie camera in 1900—priced at one dollar—helped fix photography as a mass activity, especially among families and children. Over time, Kodak refined film quality, camera design, and processing systems, dominating the global photographic market. Eastman remained closely involved, insisting on research, vertical integration, and—perhaps most importantly—consumer trust.

He was also ahead of his time in his treatment of workers. Eastman introduced employee benefits that were rare for the era, including pensions, disability coverage, and profit-sharing. A successful company, he believed, owed its workforce more than wages; it owed stability.

Philanthropy

His philanthropy became one of his most enduring legacies. Over his lifetime, he donated more than $100 million—much of it quietly. He was a major benefactor of the University of Rochester, helping elevate it into a leading research institution, and a crucial supporter of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, whose future he helped secure during uncertain years. He also funded dental clinics for children across the United States and Europe, reflecting a practical belief that preventive care could change lives.

In 1921, he established the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, which quickly became one of the world’s leading conservatories. His giving was direct and purposeful, aimed at education, science, and health rather than personal memorial. Eastman believed wealth carried an obligation: to widen opportunity. That belief was, indeed, borne out in the institutions he helped sustain.

In his later years, the old photography baron suffered from a painful degenerative spinal condition that restricted his mobility. In 1932, at seventy-seven, he took his own life, leaving behind a brief note: “My work is done. Why wait?” By then, his impact on photography—and on American industry—was secure.

Conclusion

George Eastman did not invent photography, but as a proverbial innate captain of industry he permanently altered its course. By simplifying its tools, reorganizing its economics, and placing it in the hands of ordinary people, he helped make photography a common language of modern life. Long after cameras changed shape and film gave way to pixels, his central idea endured: that memory should not belong to the few. It should, indeed, belong to everyone.

Brian D'Ambrosio is the author of Montana Eccentrics, New Mexico Eccentrics, and Italian-Americana: Explorers, Entertainers, and Eccentrics. Available here: Amazon US | Amazon UK

References

George Eastman Museum/Online Collections

PBS/American Experience/George Eastman

Miscellaneous obituaries: Daily Sentinel, March 15, 1932; Passaic Daily Herald, March 15, 1932.

The 1857 Dred Scott Decision

The Dred Scott decision (1857) was critically important in precipitating the Civil War because it invalidated the Missouri Compromise, declared African Americans were not U.S. citizens, and asserted Congress couldn't ban slavery in territories, infuriating the North, galvanizing the Republican Party, and intensifying the national debate, proving to many Northerners the South's "Slave Power" dominance and making compromise impossible. This ruling destroyed the delicate balance between free and slave states, pushing the nation further towards secession and war.

Lloyd W Klein explains.

Dred Scott.

Who Was Dred Scott?

Dred Scott was an escaped slave who sued for his freedom and that of his wife, Harriet, and their two daughters. Scott and his wife claimed their freedom because they had lived in Illinois and the Wisconsin Territory for four years as free blacks; in these states, slavery was illegal and the state laws said that slaveholders gave up their rights if they (escaped slaves) stayed for an extended period. When his owners brought him back to Missouri, Scott sued for his freedom: first in Missouri state court, which ruled that he was still a slave under its law, and then in US federal court, which ruled against him, deciding that it must apply Missouri law. He ultimately appealed these rulings to the US Supreme Court. The legal case that forms the basis of Dred Scott v. Sandford (1857) is, in fact, a collection of lawsuits initiated in Missouri courts that ultimately reached the U.S. Supreme Court.

The main plaintiff was Dred Scott, a previously enslaved individual who had been living as a freed man. The defendant was Irene Emerson and subsequently John F. A. Sandford (the widow of Scott’s owner and her brother). Scott filed a lawsuit for his freedom in the Missouri state court, asserting that he had been taken by his owner into free jurisdictions where slavery was prohibited. Scott had lived for extended periods in areas where slavery was prohibited by law: Illinois (1833–1836) was a free state under Illinois law and Wisconsin Territory (1836–1838) which was governed by the Northwest Ordinance and later the Missouri Compromise, both of which prohibited slavery. Scott contended that his residence in these free regions rendered him legally free, as Missouri had previously acknowledged the principle that residing in a free jurisdiction emancipated an enslaved person.

His full background was crucial to the case. He was born a slave around 1799. In 1818, Scott was taken by Peter Blow and his family to Alabama. In 1830, the family abandoned farming and relocated to St. Louis. Scott was sold to Dr. John Emerson, a surgeon in the U.S. Army. One unresolved controversy is whether Blow passed away before or after the sale was completed. Scott was dissatisfied with Dr. Emerson and attempted to escape, but was eventually recaptured. In 1833, Emerson moved to Illinois, a free state, and in 1837 to the Wisconsin Territory, which was also free. There, he met his wife, Harriet, who was also enslaved, and they married, a union that was not legally recognized among slaves; this fact became another point of contention. Harriet was subsequently sold to Emerson. They had two sons. In 1840, Emerson returned to Missouri, a slave state, and he died in 1842, with the Scotts being inherited by Emerson’s wife, Irene. In 1846, Scott offered Irene $300 to buy their freedom, but she declined; this is another noteworthy aspect, as it demonstrated he possessed his own funds from his labor. In 1846, Mr. Scott sued for his freedom, arguing that living in free states and territories for prolonged periods of time had made him and his wife free.

Scott first sued for freedom in St. Louis Circuit Court. Initially, Scott won his freedom at trial in 1847. On appeal, the Missouri Supreme Court reversed the decision in 1852, ruling that residing in a free territory did not automatically emancipate him (Scott v. Emerson (15 Mo. 576). Scott remained enslaved under Missouri law. Meanwhile, Dred, Harriet and their family lived in Wisconsin. The question was raised whether or not the cases should be heard there, not Missouri, which made it unclear which, if either, state jurisdiction had standing in the case.

The cases then moved to Federal Court In 1853, Dred Scott sued John F. A. Sandford, who had inherited him, in federal court in St. Louis. The Blow family supported Scott’s case financially. Scott argued he was a U.S. citizen and thus could invoke diversity jurisdiction under Article III of the Constitution (allowing a citizen of one state to sue a citizen of another state in federal court). In lower federal courts, he continued to lose but remained living freely in Wisconsin. The federal courts initially split on jurisdiction. Scott appealed to the US Supreme Court in 1856, 10 years after his initial suit. He had been living on his own all of that time. 

The Dred Scott Decision

Legal scholars have traditionally considered the Dred Scott Decision the worst SCOTUS decision in history. Several reasons exist for its poor status in antebellum legal jurisprudence, including the merits of the legal case, its overreaching opinion beyond the case itself (obiter dicta), its inhibition of further legislative compromise on the slavery issue, and its direct influence in precipitating the Civil War. A full comprehension of the legal issues it raised and the catastrophe of its dreadful racial pronouncements are necessary to appreciate its appalling and shocking conclusions. In this regard, it may actually be far worse than the infamous Cornerstone Speech because it supposedly reflected the rule of law.

On March 6, 1857, Chief Justice Roger B Taney read his opinion, speaking for the majority. The United States Supreme Court decided 7–2 against Scott, finding that neither he nor any other person of African ancestry could claim citizenship in the United States, and therefore Scott could not legally bring suit in federal court. On behalf of the majority, Taney ruled that because Scott was considered the private property of his owners, he was subject to the Fifth Amendment, prohibiting the taking of property from its owner "without due process". Hence, Scott's “temporary residence” outside Missouri did not bring about his emancipation, as it would "improperly deprive Scott's owner of his legal property".

This ruling appeared to be in conflict with the provisions of the Missouri Compromise, passed in 1820 that admitted Missouri as a slave state, in exchange for legislation which prohibited slavery north of the 36°30′ parallel except for Missouri. Taney noted that the Compromise's legal provisions was intended to free slaves who were living north of this borderline in the western territories. Taney decided that this requirement constituted the government depriving slaveowners of their property. Therefore, the Missouri Compromise, which had kept the peace for 37 years, was determined to be unconstitutional, even though this finding was unnecessary to the decision in the case. It was also actually moot, because the provisions of the Missouri Compromise forbidding slavery in the former Louisiana Territory north of the parallel 36°30′ north were effectively repealed in the Kansas–Nebraska Act of 1854.

The decisive elements of the verdict were the determination that slaves were legally designated as property, and that black people could never be US citizens, even if freed as recognized by state laws. Taney’s ruling meant that a man could be recognized as a citizen of a state but not a citizen of the country. But Taney continued: he ruled that slavery could not legally be excluded from U.S. territories or states because it is recognized in the Constitution. 

Minority Opinions

Justice McLean argued that by ruling that Scott was not a citizen, the Court had also ruled that it did not have jurisdiction to hear his case. Consequently, McLean contended that the Court should have simply dismissed the case without further judgment. He attacked much of the Court's decision as obiter dicta (literally: by the way) and thus an opinion that is not legally binding.

Justice Curtis objected to the accuracy of the majority’s historical data, noting that Black men were allowed to vote in five of the thirteen states of the Union at the time of the ratification of the Constitution. He viewed the right to vote as evidence that Black men were already citizens of both their states and of the United States. To argue that Scott was not an American citizen, Curtis wrote, was “more a matter of taste than of law.” 

Taney directly ruled that state citizenship did not accord African-Americans the rights of national citizenship. This seemed to directly contradict Article IV, section 2: "The citizens of each State shall be entitled to all privileges and immunities of citizens in the several States." 

Free Blacks were given full citizenship and voted in some states - but not allowed on juries.  There was no precedent to be a state citizen and not a US citizen. Such a conclusion leads to highly questionable justice. A Black person could, in theory, sue in their own state (for example, Pennsylvania) if an illegal seizure occurred within that state’s borders. Once the person was taken across state lines, state courts lost jurisdiction, and it became a federal case. But that raised a problem if the plaintiff was a black person who wasn’t a citizen of the country.  No one had any idea what to make of this but it appeared as if the free black person had no recourse, and hence there was no remedy for kidnapping across state lines.

Dred Scott and his family lost the case but remained free. The Scott’s were purchased by the owner’s sons, who sold them to Taylor Blow, who manumitted them in May 1857.  A year later, Scott died of tuberculosis. Harriet lived for another 19 years as a free woman in St Louis, dying in 1876. Many people, both then and now, believe that both Scott, who could have just escaped, and the owner, Sandman, saw this as a test case and there was never really any plan to re-enslave them.

Binding Rulings (Ratio Decidendi) versus Obiter Dicta (Not Necessary to the Decision)

The only binding legal ruling in Dred Scott was that Black people are not citizens of the United States, which meant that Blacks, whether free or enslaved, had no standing to sue in federal court. This conclusion was necessary to decide the case — the Supreme Court dismissed Scott’s federal lawsuit on this basis. Dred Scott had no right to sue in federal court because he was not a citizen. Scott could not invoke diversity jurisdiction under Article III of the Constitution.

A central legal principle is that a ruling should be based on legal principles and not give opinions about extraneous questions. Taney went out of his way to give opinions that had nothing to do with Mr. Scott’s suit. These statements were not required to resolve Scott’s claim but became infamous for their political and legal implications:

1.     Congress cannot prohibit slavery in federal territories.

2.     The Missouri Compromise of 1820 was unconstitutional, because Congress had no authority to ban slavery in the territories. Reason: Slaveholders’ property rights are protected by the Fifth Amendment.

3.     Slaves are property under the Constitution.

4.     The Constitution protects slave owners’ property rights across state lines.

5.     Assertions that Blacks were “beings of an inferior order… so far inferior that they had no rights which the white man was bound to respect.”

Despite its immense controversy and broad rejection throughout the North, the Dred Scott decision stood as the prevailing law of the land. Those portions of the decision that were central to the decision, like any SCOTUS ruling, are binding law. The question raised was, were the obiter dicta opinions enforceable? Several states passed laws contradicting the ruling, a form of nullification. Central to the ruling was the Court’s declaration that Congress lacked the power to ban slavery in federal territories. This point, which was not strictly necessary to resolve Dred Scott’s specific case (and thus, technically, "obiter dictum"), had immense political consequences. Although such commentary was not legally binding, Taney and his allies intended it as an authoritative reading of the Constitution. Southern leaders and Democrats quickly treated this territorial claim as settled constitutional doctrine, insisting that slavery was lawful in all federal territories.

Taney’s Flawed Legal Reasoning

The Constitution does not explicitly exclude free Black individuals from citizenship. In fact, at the time of its drafting, several states recognized free Blacks as citizens, granting them rights such as voting and property ownership. Moreover, Black individuals contributed to the nation’s founding; for instance, Crispus Attucks, a Black man, was a casualty of the Boston Massacre, and many others served in the Continental Army. These historical realities directly undermine Chief Justice Taney’s claim that the framers unanimously viewed Black people as outside the political community.

Likewise, Taney’s assertion that Congress lacked authority to restrict slavery in federal territories disregarded both historical precedent and established law. The Northwest Ordinance of 1787—subsequently reaffirmed by the First Congress—prohibited slavery in the Northwest Territory. The Missouri Compromise of 1820 similarly regulated the expansion of slavery and had long been accepted as a valid exercise of congressional power.

Taney’s opinion, therefore, was not compelled by the Constitution—it was a partisan, pro-slavery interpretation that projected into the document values which were never explicitly present. The dissenting justices underscored this point, arguing that both citizenship and the regulation of territories were matters traditionally left to congressional and state authority. Many scholars consequently regard Dred Scott as a paradigmatic instance of judicial activism—a case in which the Court inserted itself into a contentious political debate, expanding the reach of slavery instead of addressing only the case at hand. Thus, while Taney’s decision may have reflected the prevailing political influence of slaveholders, it was neither required by law nor morally defensible, even within the context of the antebellum Constitution.

Legal Consequence for Black Americans

The excerpts presented in table 2 demonstrate the harsh language employed by Taney and the majority. Upon examining these statements, the ramifications of Taney’s decision are appalling. This ruling signified that Black individuals were denied acknowledgment as citizens of the United States and would indefinitely remain in that condition. Dred Scott, along with all subsequent Black plaintiffs, was prohibited from filing lawsuits in federal court, nor could they pursue legal actions if the issue crossed state lines, leaving them completely powerless due to their race and status as former slaves. Additionally, slaves are categorized as property protected under the Fifth Amendment, meaning they cannot be taken from their owners without permission. The Constitution was interpreted as institutionalizing the denial of rights based on skin color, a circumstance that cannot be undone. The ruling expressed that the natural or inherent rights of individuals to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness were never intended to apply to Black individuals. As a result, Black people are not considered fully human and lack legal equality with white individuals. Simply living in free territory or being independent for a prolonged period would not provide sufficient grounds for their emancipation.

The legal consequences were disastrous. Blacks would have no rights that whites are required to honor. This ruling denies Blacks, whether free or enslaved, the ability to stand in federal court. If no Black individual can ever file a federal lawsuit, they are left utterly powerless. Black individuals would be susceptible to federal crimes committed against them, as they cannot seek justice in a federal court.

The Fifth Amendment

Taney's majority opinion highlighted that enslaved individuals were regarded as property, which meant that the federal government could not intervene in a slave owner's right to transport their property into any territory. The 5th Amendment states that no individual can be deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law, nor can private property be taken for public use without just compensation. Taney’s opinion was based on the 5th Amendment's protection of property, explicitly referencing the Due Process Clause. This legal reasoning necessitated two conditions: 1) that slaves possessed none of the natural rights of men, and 2) that the US Constitution legally classified them as property.

Taney contended that enslaved individuals were legally recognized as property under both state and federal law (as safeguarded by the Constitution’s acknowledgment of slavery in provisions such as the Fugitive Slave Clause and the Three-Fifths Clause). Consequently, if Congress enacted a law—such as the Missouri Compromise—that prohibited slavery in federal territories, it would be unconstitutional as it deprived slaveholders of their property (enslaved individuals) without due process of law. He stated: “An act of Congress which deprives a citizen of his property merely because he brought his property into a particular Territory of the United States … could hardly be dignified with the name of due process of law.”

Taney reasoned that enslaved individuals were a type of property recognized by law. Slaveholders were “citizens” entitled to protections under the Fifth Amendment. Thus, any federal law prohibiting slavery in a territory infringed upon property rights without due process. If slaves were considered persons, they could not be deprived of their liberty without due process of law. However, if slaves were deemed “property,” then masters could not be deprived of their property without due process. From the viewpoint of 1789, the only reasonable interpretation of the 5th Amendment was to conclude that slaves were legally not persons.

There was legal precedent for this interpretation.  Justice Story said (in the majority opinion of Prigg vs Pennsylvania 1842), ”We have said that the clause (article 4 section 2) contains a positive and unqualified recognition of the right of the owner in the slave, unaffected by any state law or legislation whatsoever, because there is no qualification or restriction of it to be found therein, and we have no right to insert any which is not expressed and cannot be fairly implied … The owner must, therefore, have the right to seize and repossess the slave., which the local laws of his own state confer upon him as property ….”

The Tenth Amendment

The Tenth Amendment to the United States Constitution had implications for slavery that were profound but are often misunderstood. It provides that powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited to the states, are reserved to the states respectively, or to the people. Before 1857, this language reinforced a widely accepted constitutional arrangement: slavery was regulated by state law. Because the Constitution granted Congress no general authority over slavery within existing states, regulation of the institution inside state borders was understood to belong to each state. Massachusetts could abolish slavery; South Carolina could entrench and expand it. Congress, as a rule, did not interfere with slavery where it already existed under state authority.

But the Tenth Amendment did not protect slavery everywhere. It reserved undelegated powers to the states; it did not retract powers that were expressly delegated to Congress. Among those enumerated powers was authority over federal territories under Article IV, Section 3—the Territorial Clause. Under that authority Congress had governed slavery’s status outside the states, most notably through the Northwest Ordinance, which prohibited slavery in the Northwest Territory, and later through the Missouri Compromise. Congress also exercised its commerce power to end the international slave trade in 1808. None of these measures were thought, prior to 1857, to violate the Tenth Amendment, because they operated in areas where federal authority was textually grounded.

Pro-slavery constitutional theorists frequently blurred this distinction. They argued that because slavery was a “state right,” it carried a kind of constitutional immunity wherever Americans went. That reading converted a rule about reserved powers into a claim of national protection for slavery, something the Constitution nowhere explicitly declared. Properly understood, the Tenth Amendment meant that slavery inside a state depended on that state’s law. It did not mean that Congress was powerless in the territories, nor that slavery enjoyed automatic constitutional shelter beyond state borders. The constitutional struggle before the Civil War centered precisely on where state authority ended and federal authority began. Slavery stood at that fault line.

The Supreme Court’s decision in Dred Scott transformed that equilibrium. Taney held that enslaved persons were property protected by the Fifth Amendment’s Due Process Clause and that Congress therefore lacked authority to prohibit slavery in the territories. In practical effect, this reasoning nationalized slavery. What had previously been treated as a matter of state law within states and federal discretion in territories became, under Taney’s logic, a constitutionally protected property right that Congress could not exclude from federal soil. The earlier balance: state control locally, congressional control territorially, was overturned. The Tenth Amendment’s reservation of powers to the states remained textually intact, but its practical significance for containing slavery was gutted.

The Political Rise of Abraham Lincoln

It was at this moment that Abraham Lincoln made his decisive political move. Before Dred Scott, most Americans accepted that states controlled slavery within their borders while Congress governed it in the territories. The Court’s decision shattered that arrangement by declaring that neither Congress nor territorial voters could bar slavery’s expansion. Lincoln grasped immediately that this logic placed slavery on a trajectory toward nationalization. In his “House Divided” speech, he warned that the country could not endure permanently half slave and half free because the constitutional barriers to slavery’s spread were being dismantled.

Lincoln’s brilliance lay not merely in opposing slavery but in explaining how the Court’s reasoning reordered the Constitution itself. By locating slavery’s protection in the Fifth Amendment and denying Congress authority in the territories, the Court rendered the earlier federal-state balance effectively meaningless. Lincoln translated that constitutional disruption into a moral and democratic argument ordinary voters could understand: self-government was being made powerless. If majorities in the territories could not decide the status of slavery, then “popular sovereignty” was a façade. By exposing that contradiction, Lincoln built a coalition that understood the crisis not simply as a sectional dispute but as a threat to constitutional democracy. His capacity to connect technical constitutional reasoning with a compelling public narrative is central to his enduring stature in American political history.

Conclusion

The consequences of Dred Scott were devastating. By denying Black Americans citizenship, the Court stripped them of access to federal courts, leaving free Blacks defenseless against kidnapping across state lines. By constitutionalizing slave property, it placed slavery beyond democratic control. If Congress could not regulate slavery in the territories, then neither could settlers. The institution was no longer local—it was being made national.

In trying to settle the slavery question, the Court destroyed the constitutional middle ground. The nation was now forced to choose: slavery would either expand everywhere or be stopped by political resistance. Abraham Lincoln saw the crisis and articulated its impact before anyone else: a political opening he grasped.

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Part VI – The Legacy of the Wars of the Roses: Myth, Memory, and Modern Interpretation

The closing chapter of the Wars of the Roses is not written solely in the blood-soaked fields of the Battle of Bosworth Field, but in the quieter, more enduring transformations that followed. When Henry VII of England emerged victorious and claimed the English throne, he inherited a realm deeply scarred by decades of intermittent civil war. The conflict had not been a continuous, unbroken struggle, but rather a series of violent convulsions that periodically destabilized the kingdom. By 1485, however, the cumulative effect was unmistakable: the old feudal order had been shaken to its foundations, and England stood at the threshold of a new political age. The Tudor dynasty, forged in the crucible of war and compromise, would reshape the monarchy into a more centralized and disciplined institution, laying important groundwork for the emergence of the early modern English state.

Terry Bailey explains.

King Henry VII of England.

The destruction and weakening of the great noble houses was perhaps the most immediate and visible consequence of the wars. For generations, powerful magnates had exercised semi-autonomous authority in their regions, commanding private armies and maintaining vast networks of retainers. Yet the bitter rivalry between the House of York and the House of Lancaster led to a cycle of battles, executions, and attainders that steadily eroded the strength of these families. Prominent lineages were extinguished or reduced to shadows of their former selves, and the political landscape they had dominated was irrevocably altered. This was not merely a by-product of conflict; it became an opportunity seized upon by the new Tudor regime.   

Henry VII understood, perhaps more clearly than any of his predecessors, that the unchecked power of the nobility posed an existential threat to royal authority. His response was not to abolish the aristocracy, but to bind it more tightly to the Crown. Through financial instruments such as, he ensured that noble loyalty was not only expected but enforceable. The regulation of retaining—long a source of private military power—further curtailed the ability of nobles to act independently. Over time, this produced a more compliant aristocratic class, one whose influence was increasingly derived from royal favor rather than hereditary might. The transformation was subtle but profound: the nobility remained central to governance, yet it no longer stood as a rival power base.

This reconfiguration of noble power fed directly into the broader strengthening of central authority. Under Henry VII and his son, Henry VIII of England, the machinery of government became more efficient, more intrusive, and more firmly controlled from the center. The Crown expanded its administrative reach, relying on a growing cadre of administrators rather than feudal intermediaries. Institutions such as the Council Learned in the Law and the Court of Star Chamber were employed to enforce royal policy and discipline those who might challenge it. Justice, once unevenly administered through a patchwork of local jurisdictions, became more standardized as the authority of the monarchy extended into the provinces. In these developments, one can discern the early contours of a state that was no longer merely the personal domain of a king, but an increasingly structured entity.

The constitutional implications of the Wars of the Roses, while less immediately visible, were equally significant. The repeated deposition and replacement of monarchs during the conflict—most notably Henry VI of England and the death of Richard III of England—challenged traditional notions of divine and hereditary right. Although the ideology of kingship remained formally intact, the reality had been exposed: a king who could not command loyalty or maintain order might be removed. Legitimacy, therefore, became a more complex and negotiated concept, dependent not only on lineage but on political support and effective governance. Parliament played an increasingly important role in this process, ratifying changes of regime and providing a veneer of legality to acts of dispossession and succession. While it would be anachronistic to describe this as the birth of a constitutional monarchy, it nonetheless marked a step toward a more participatory political framework.

Beyond the structures of governance, the Wars of the Roses also left a lasting imprint on English culture and historical memory. The Tudor dynasty, keenly aware of its relatively tenuous claim to the throne, invested considerable effort in shaping the narrative of the conflict. By portraying the preceding era as one of chaos, disorder, and moral justified their own rule as a restoration of stability and justice. This interpretation found its most enduring expression in literature, particularly in the works of William Shakespeare. His play Richard III presents the last Yorkist king as a deformed and malevolent tyrant, a characterization that has profoundly influenced popular perceptions for centuries. Yet this portrayal is as much a product of Tudor propaganda as it is of historical fact.

Modern historians have increasingly sought to disentangle myth from reality, reassessing the Wars of the Roses through the careful analysis of contemporary sources. Far from depicting a nation in constant turmoil, recent scholarship suggests that much of England experienced periods of relative stability between outbreaks of conflict. Local governance often continued with remarkable continuity, and the impact of the wars on the general population may have been less severe than traditionally imagined. The conflict, in this light, appears less as a total collapse and more as a series of elite struggles, fought by and for a relatively small segment of society.

The reassessment of figures such as Richard III exemplifies this shift in perspective. Archaeological discoveries, including the identification of his remains in 2012, have provided new insight into his physical condition and reign, challenging long-held assumptions shaped by literary tradition. While he remains a controversial figure, he is now often viewed in a more nuanced light, as a capable, if ultimately unsuccessful, ruler operating within a deeply unstable environment. This willingness to revisit and revise historical narratives reflects broader trends within the discipline of history, where the emphasis has shifted toward complexity, context, and the critical evaluation of sources.

In considering the long-term legacy of the Wars of the Roses, it becomes clear that their significance extends far beyond the question of who wore the crown. They accelerated the decline of feudal structures, facilitated the rise of a more centralized monarchy, and contributed to the gradual evolution of England's institutions. At the same time, they demonstrate the power of narrative in shaping the understanding of the past. The wars have been remembered not only through chronicles and records, but through plays, legends, and national mythology, each layer adding to their enduring fascination.

As the final instalment in this series, the story of the Wars of the Roses resolves not with a simple conclusion, but with an invitation to reflection. The conflict did not merely end in 1485; it continued to shape the trajectory of English history for generations. In the hands of the Tudors, the lessons of civil war were transformed into a blueprint for stability, control, and consolidation. Yet the memory of those turbulent years, refracted through centuries of interpretation, is a reminder that history is never static. It is a dialogue between past and present, in which each generation seeks to understand not only what happened, but what it means.

In drawing this long and turbulent narrative to a close, the Wars of the Roses emerge not simply as a dynastic struggle resolved by the victory of Henry VII of England, but as a transformative period in which the very nature of English kingship and governance was redefined. The triumph at the Battle of Bosworth Field did not erase the divisions that had scarred the realm; rather, it marked the moment at which those divisions were brought under tighter control, harnessed, and gradually reshaped into a more durable political order. What followed was not the simple restoration of peace, but the careful construction of stability—an achievement as deliberate as it was fragile.

The collapse of overmighty noble power, the strengthening of central authority, and the increasing reliance on administrative governance together signaled the end of the medieval political landscape that had allowed such conflicts to flourish. Under the Tudors, the Crown ceased to be merely the apex of a feudal hierarchy and instead became part of a more integrated state. This shift did not occur overnight, nor was it free of resistance, but it fundamentally altered the balance between monarch and nobility, reducing the likelihood that private rivalries could again erupt into national conflict. In this sense, the wars achieved, through their destruction, the conditions necessary for a more stable future.

Equally significant was the subtle transformation in the concept of legitimacy. The repeated upheavals of the fifteenth century had demonstrated that kingship could no longer rely solely on hereditary right or divine sanction. The reigns of Henry VI of England and Richard III of England illustrated that authority depended increasingly on the ability to command loyalty, maintain order, and secure recognition from the populace, including Parliament. This evolving understanding did not yet constitute a constitutional monarchy in the modern sense, but it marked a significant step towards a system in which power was more contingent, negotiated, and institutionalized.

Yet if the structural consequences of the wars were profound, their legacy in memory and myth has proven equally enduring. The narratives shaped by Tudor chroniclers and immortalized by William Shakespeare ensured that the conflict would be remembered not merely as history, but as drama—populated by heroes, villains, and moral lessons. The enduring image of Richard III of England as a tyrant owes as much to this tradition as to the historical record, reminding us that the past is often filtered through the needs and perspectives of those who recount it. Modern scholarship, with its emphasis on evidence and context, has begun to peel back these layers, revealing a more complex and less sensational reality, yet the power of these older narratives remains deeply embedded in cultural consciousness.

Ultimately, the significance of the Wars of the Roses lies in their dual character as both destructive and creative forces. They brought immense suffering and instability, yet they also accelerated changes that might otherwise have taken generations to unfold. From the power of feudal magnate dominance to the rise of a more centralized monarchy with legitimacy to the gradual strengthening of institutional governance, the wars reshaped England in ways that extended far beyond the battlefield.

As this series concludes, what remains most striking is not simply how the conflict ended, but how it continued to resonate. The Tudors did not merely inherit a kingdom; they inherited the lessons of civil war, and from those lessons they forged and aided in prioritizing control, continuity, and caution. Yet the memory of those events preserved in chronicles, literature, and national myth—ensures that the Wars of the Roses remain more than a closed chapter. They endure as a reminder that history is not fixed, but continually reinterpreted, and that the meaning of the past is shaped as much by those who remember it as by those who lived it.

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What Was Nikita Khrushchev’s Mindset Before and During the Cuban Missile Crisis?

There have been many recounts and analyses of how then-U.S. President John F. Kennedy responded to the Cuban Missile Crisis – the name given to the 13 days in October 1962 that were rife with political and military tension between the United States and the Soviet Union regarding Soviet missiles in the Caribbean country, leaving many fearing nuclear war was imminent.

The true intent of Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev has not been given as much attention in the West. Janel Miller reviewed a handful of contemporary newspaper articles from the time of the crisis and later journal articles reflecting on the ordeal to provide readers with some insights – albeit a few of which conflict with the passage of time – into the lesser-known point of view.

John F. Kennedy and Nikita Khrushchev in 1961.

As the 1960s began, Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev was seemingly well aware of the United States increased nuclear weapons production and its positioning in places like England, Italy, and Turkey that placed these weapons increasingly closer to his country’s borders.

Even so, Khrushchev may not have wanted to commit the necessary funds to bring his country on par with the United States. At least one report from the 2000s indicates “the cost of U.S. defense programs exceeded the dollar equivalent of Soviet programs by roughly one-fifth” from 1951 to 1964. Another report claims that when the Soviets did put their missiles in Cuba, it only had about 75 intercontinental ballistic missiles, compared with the between 450 and 500 of these missiles the U.S. was said to have at the time.

However, contemporary reports differ. Roughly a month before the Cuban Missile Crisis reached its October tipping point, a newspaper article quoted sources in Washington, D.C. who claimed the Soviet Union not only had more nuclear weapons that could be “city-killers” than the United States at that time, but the country was increasing that lead.

The balance of the evidence reviewed before writing this essay suggests the contemporary report may have been an exaggeration or perhaps even a ploy to earn the United States’ support on an uncomfortable topic. According to at least two authors’ interpretations, decades later, of Robert McNamara, Kennedy’s Secretary of Defense, comments during a 1964 hearing suggested that the United States’ superiority in nuclear weapons was the sole reason Khrushchev backed down.

Impact

To interject a perspective that might help explain the fear the Cuban Missile Crisis instilled around the world, intercontinental ballistic missiles are said to have a range of more than 3,500 miles (roughly 700 more miles than a car trip from New York City to Los Angeles in the United States or nine round-trip car trips by car from London to Manchester in the United Kingdom).

Decades after the crisis was averted, an author noted that until Cuba, Khrushchev had not placed any nuclear missiles outside the Soviet Union’s extensive border. By doing so, Khrushchev may have felt that what he lacked in numbers, he made up for it in the amount of security the move provided Cuba’s residents and the amount of fear the missiles' closeness to the Caribbean country instilled in Americans. It should be noted that a different author, writing in the 1980s, felt that a “considerably smaller” number of missiles than those observed in the photographs that sparked the conflict would have achieved this result.

Returning to a contemporary news report, shortly after Khrushchev agreed to have the missiles removed from Cuba, said he did so because he felt confident Kennedy would not invade Cuba.  Khrushchev added that “the motive which prompted us to give aid of this nature to Cuba is no longer valid.”

Dangers

Speaking to a Kiwanis Club in the middle of the tense 13 days, Henry Shapiro, who was then well into his second decade of a three-decade career covering Moscow for United Press International and said to provide Khrushchev with informal feedback regarding how Americans would respond to Soviet actions, implied Khrushchev knew the dangers of nuclear war and thus never intended to start one.

Shapiro, besides alluding to some theories mentioned in this essay, also stated that Khrushchev may have – as other leaders before him such as George McClellan’s incorrect assumption regarding the number of Confederate troops during the Civil War’s Battle of Antietam or Mark Antony’s overreliance on the wind during his doomed attempt to win the Battle of Actium – underestimated the power of U.S. nuclear weapons but also knew that he had some pretty powerful weapons as well.

More recently

Khrushchev’s own son, in remarks made almost 40 years to the day of the event, said the Soviets’ actions in Cuba were merely to save face, and that simply trying to resolve differences between the United States and the Soviet Union verbally would make those within the Kremlin look weak.

At least one other author in more recent times has offered that if Kennedy had been the leader who backed down first, rather than Khrushchev, the Soviets’ decision to stockpile missiles in Cuba might also have provided Khrushchev with a few additional Latin American and South American allies.

Also in recent years, another author has suggested that the Soviet Union’s actions were to showcase its strength to China, a country that Fidel Castro was said to be keen on winning over. In stockpiling missiles so close to America, the Soviets hoped China would forgo building nuclear weapons and depend on the Soviets if ever threatened. 

In addition, recent authors have wrote that Kennedy backing down first may have also given Khrushchev the upper hand in a much closer rivalry than those in the Northern Hemisphere and in Asia – the German city of Berlin,  which the year before became divided in two by miles and miles of concrete walls of varying height up to 15 feet disfigured by barbed wire and under constant watch by guards, structures holding guns, and mines.

In Context

It has often been said that there are two sides to every story. I sometimes tell others that there are actually three sides to every story. There is one person’s account, the other person’s account, and then what truly happened (although I, by no means, believe I have coined the phrase).

More so than any other topic I have written about for History Is Now’s website, does the adage and my take on it ring true. Perhaps for that reason, the greatest takeaway from a situation as serious as the Cuban Missile Crisis was, is that every reason and scenario possible must always be explored before action is taken, especially when it is regarding something as consequential as nuclear war.  

Find our more on the Cold War in our book here.

References

History.com Editors. “Cuban Missile Crisis - Causes, Timeline & Significance.” https://www.history.com/articles/cuban-missile-crisis. History.com. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Kahan, Jerome H. and Long, Anne K. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: A Study of Its Strategic Context.”   https://www.jstor.org/stable/2148197. Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 87, No. 4 (December 1972), pp. 564-590. Accessed March 20, 2026.

Center for the Study of Intelligence.  “Analyzing Soviet Defense Programs, 1951-1990.”  https://nsarchive2.gwu.edu/NSAEBB/NSAEBB493/docs/intell_ebb_012.PDF. The National Security Archive, The George Washington University. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Pollard, Robert A. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: Legacies and Lessons.” https://www.jstor.org/stable/40256375. The Wilson Quarterly, Vol. 6, No. 4 (Autumn, 1982), pp. 148-158.

Accessed March 20, 2026.

Myler, Joseph L. “Russians Extend Lead in Testing N-Weapons.” https://www.newspapers.com/image/534344939. The Scranton Times (Pennsylvania). September 20, 1962, Page 2. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Kahan, Jerome H. and Long, Anne K. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: A Study of Its Strategic Context.”   https://www.jstor.org/stable/2148197. Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 87, No. 4 (December 1972), pp. 564-590. Accessed March 20, 2026.

Brittanica.com Editors. “ICBM.” https://www.britannica.com/technology/ICBM. Brittanica.com.  Accessed April 13, 2026.

MapQuest.com Editors. “Directions from New York, NY to Los Angeles, CA. https://www.mapquest.com/directions/from/us/new-york/new-york-ny-282040974/to/us/california/los-angeles-ca-282039899?scheduleType=leave-now. MapQuest.com. Accessed April 13, 2026.

UKCityMap.com Editors. “Distance from London, Greater London, to Manchester, Greater Manchester, England.” https://www.ukcitymap.com/distance-from-london-greater-london-england-to-manchester-greater-manchester-england.html. UKCityMap.com. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Kahan, Jerome H. and Long, Anne K. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: A Study of Its Strategic Context.”   https://www.jstor.org/stable/2148197. Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 87, No. 4 (December 1972), pp. 564-590. Accessed March 20, 2026.

Pollard, Robert A. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: Legacies and Lessons.” https://www.jstor.org/stable/40256375. The Wilson Quarterly, Vol. 6, No. 4 (Autumn, 1982), pp. 148-158.  Accessed March 20, 2026.

Syvertsen, George. “Nikita Quits Brink, Recalls Rockets.” https://www.newspapers.com/image/80332793/. The Oregon Statesman. October 29, 1962, Page 1.

Colwell, Mike. “Nikita Expected to Back Down.” https://www.newspapers.com/image/995245702/.

The Berkeley Daily Gazette (California). October 24, 1962, Page 1.

United Press International Editors.  “Veteran UPI Foreign Correspondent Henry Shapiro Dead at 84.” https://www.upi.com/Archives/1991/04/05/Veteran-UPI-foreign-correspondent-Henry-Shapiro-dead-at-84/2067670827600/.UPI.com. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Colwell, Mike. “Nikita Expected to Back Down.” https://www.newspapers.com/image/995245702/.

The Berkeley Daily Gazette (California). October 24, 1962, Page 1.

Sears, Stephen W. “McClellan at Antietam.” https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/mcclellan-antietam. American Battlefield Trust. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Mark, Joshua J. “Battle of Actium.”  https://www.worldhistory.org/Battle_of_Actium/.  Worldhistory.org. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Colwell, Mike. “Nikita Expected to Back Down.” https://www.newspapers.com/image/995245702/.

The Berkeley Daily Gazette (California). October 24, 1962, Page 1.

Transcript of October 20, 2002, discussion among James Blight, Chuck Daly, Kenneth Galbraith, Sergei Khrushchev, Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., Theodore Sorensen, and Josefina Vidal. “On the Brink: The Cuban Missile Crisis.” https://www.jfklibrary.org/events-and-awards/kennedy-library-forums/browse-all-forums/transcripts/on-the-brink-the-cuban-missile-crisis. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum. Accessed March 20, 2026.

Kahan, Jerome H. and Long, Anne K. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: A Study of Its Strategic Context.”   https://www.jstor.org/stable/2148197. Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 87, No. 4 (December 1972), pp. 564-590. Accessed March 20, 2026.

Pollard, Robert A. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: Legacies and Lessons.” https://www.jstor.org/stable/40256375. The Wilson Quarterly, Vol. 6, No. 4 (Autumn, 1982), pp. 148-158.

Accessed March 20, 2026.

Sears, Stephen W. “McClellan at Antietam.” https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/mcclellan-antietam. American Battlefield Trust. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Mark, Joshua J. “Battle of Actium.”  https://www.worldhistory.org/Battle_of_Actium/.  Worldhistory.org. Accessed April 13, 2026.

Slantchev Branislav L. “The National Security Strategy: The Cuban/Caribbean Missile Crisis, October 1962.” http://slantchev.ucsd.edu/courses/ps142j/lectures/cuban-crisis.pdf. University of California, San Diego. Accessed March 20, 2026.

Kahan, Jerome H. and Long, Anne K. “The Cuban Missile Crisis: A Study of Its Strategic Context.”   https://www.jstor.org/stable/2148197. Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 87, No. 4 (December 1972), pp. 564-590. Accessed March 20, 2026.

Brittanica.com Editors. “Berlin Wall.” https://www.britannica.com/topic/Berlin-Wall. Brittanica.com. Accessed April 13, 2026.

The Naked Truth: How the Marx Brothers Won Over a Hollywood Legend

When picturing Hollywood’s first comedic legends, it’s impossible not to include the Marx Brothers. Between the pantomiming, sticky-fingered, musical genius Harpo, piano-playing Italian conman Chico, motormouthed Groucho, or perpetual straight-man Zeppo, this quartet set a new standard for incredible creative talent. That influence lives on today throughout the world…namely in the infamous costume glasses based on Groucho’s signature bushy eyebrows and painted-on mustache.

Andrew Nickerson explains.

The Marx Brothers. Top to bottom: Chico, Harpo, Groucho and Zeppo.

Given how crazy they got on-screen, it shouldn’t be any surprise that their off-screen behavior could get just as insane. However, they hit a new zenith (even by their standards) with an infamous incident during their early days at MGM, one which many would think so over-the-top it’d be impossible. Instead, it’s the definition of truth being stranger than fiction, and it’s time more people knew about it. For the record, this is sourced from the famed documentary Remarks on Marx, as well as a famous 1961 interview with Groucho on The Hy Gardner Show, both of which are quite fascinating.

The Beginning

In the 1930s, the Marx Brothers worked at Paramount Pictures, where they’d had great success with their first four films. Sadly, their fifth, Duck Soup (ironically now called their best work by the American Film Institute), flopped. Worse, they lost their contract due to a money dispute, and many were convinced they were finished; moreover, Zeppo stopped performing, and Groucho even considered leaving too.

Thankfully, they were saved by an unlikely champion: Irving Thalberg at MGM Studios, which was Hollywood’s biggest movie maker at the time. Thalberg, in turn, was a legend himself: he’d become an executive producer at age 30, hence his nickname “The Boy Wonder of MGM”. Furthermore, as Groucho said, “Thalberg, like Sinatra…he was the most feared man of any producer at any Hollywood studio. And people weren’t afraid of Thalberg because he wasn’t a nice guy or anything. He was so powerful because he was so talented…even Mayer (MGM Executive Louis Mayer) was afraid of him.” Apparently, Thalberg knew the brothers through Chico because they played Bridge together, and they’d become very close. So, when the brothers lost their contract at Paramount, Thalberg convinced them to sign on at MGM. After agreeing, he told the brothers to come by his office the next morning at 11 o’clock, and they’d have an initial story conference.

Setting the scene

To understand what happened next requires a little background. Thalberg was working on three projects at that time. He had one director/producer in one room, another such in a second room, and finally the brothers, who were waiting outside his office. Basically, he spent the day running between these locations, having very important meetings each time. However, in the process, he also left the brothers dangling: 11:30 passed, then noon, then 1 p.m. (which is when the brothers left for an hour to eat lunch), and so on. Ultimately, Thalberg’s assistant contacted the brothers at 5 p.m., told them he was sorry he’d been so busy, and they should try to meet again at the same time tomorrow.

Naturally, this didn’t go over well, and it registered even harder the next day, when Thalberg made them wait again. However, around 2 p.m., they got into his office, which not only was enormous, plus had a massive fireplace on the side. At this point, Groucho said, “Look, Mr. Thalberg, we starred in two plays on Broadway, we’ve done five pictures at Paramount. We’re considered very good comedians. So, if you ask us to show up for a story conference at midnight, we’ll be here at midnight. But when you ask us to show up at 11, we want you to see us at 11 or there’s no deal with you at all.” He completely stunned Thalberg. No one ever spoke to him like that because they were all so afraid of him. Thankfully, he took it in stride and made a concession: from then on, when he scheduled a meeting, he’d see them right away. However, they’d start talking about a project, but then, after around twenty minutes, he’d say, “I’ve got to go talk to someone for a few minutes, I’ll be back”…and he’d be gone for three hours. Thus, now they were waiting inside his office. However, it backfired again: the third or fourth time Thalberg did this, the brothers took his file cabinets and stacked them against the two doors to his office so he couldn’t get in—and wouldn’t let him in until 5 p.m. Thankfully, he laughed about it because, as Groucho said, “Now he respected us.”

The Grand Finale

Yet, this was only the prelude to the brothers’ shining moment of glory. The next time he left them like that, they called the cafeteria and had them send up eight baked potatoes. They then lit a roaring fire in the office’s fireplace and took off all their clothes. Thus, when Thalberg came back, there the brothers were, sitting around the fireplace in the buff, toasting the potatoes on the fireplace spits; they even offered one to Thalberg, who ate it. After that, as Groucho said, “He loved us, because no one ever cracked a joke around him because they were all so afraid of him.”

Tragically, their partnership would only last two films (A Night at the Opera and A Day at the Races) before Thalberg died from pneumonia, but they’d go on down in history as the brothers’ highest grossing work. Moreover, it cemented the brothers’ legacy, gave Thalberg a truly novel experience…and Hollywood gained one of its greatest backstories.

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The Greatest WWI Story Never Told (Because It Never Happened): Deconstructing the Challenge Coin Myth

The military challenge coin is one of the most deeply entrenched artifacts in modern military culture. Today, you will find these custom-minted metallic medallions traded by four-star generals, deployed infantrymen, and even civilian corporate executives.

If you ask anyone in uniform where this tradition started, they will almost certainly tell you the legend of the "Wealthy Lieutenant of World War I"1. It is a narrative that perfectly encapsulates the heroism and fraternal bonds prized by the military.

There is just one problem: it is completely made up. Alexander Kidder explains.

World War One Victory Liberty Loan Medal Token Made From German Cannon. Available here.

The Perfect Legend

The story goes like this: In 1917, a wealthy American lieutenant, having dropped out of an Ivy League university to fly in the newly formed Army Air Service, wanted to forge a bond among his men. Utilizing his personal wealth, he commissioned solid bronze medallions for every member of his squadron.

Shortly after, a pilot in the squadron was shot down behind enemy lines. German soldiers captured him and stripped him of all his identification, but crucially overlooked a small leather pouch around his neck containing his bronze coin. The pilot eventually escaped and stumbled into a French outpost.

Because he was out of uniform and spoke with an odd accent, the French assumed he was a German saboteur and prepared to execute him. In his final moments, the pilot produced the bronze coin. A French soldier recognized the American squadron insignia, halting the execution. Instead of a firing squad, the pilot was given a bottle of wine. Upon his return, the squadron initiated the "coin check" to ensure everyone carried their lifesaver at all times (fail to produce it at the bar, and you buy the next round).

It is structurally flawless military folklore. Unfortunately, it withers under the spotlight of rigorous historical investigation.

 

Bureaucratic Silence and Bronze Realities

The United States military during WWI generated an almost unprecedented amount of paperwork. Yet, exhaustive searches by the Pentagon librarians, the Naval History and Heritage Command, and the U.S. Army Center of Military History have found absolutely zero records of this event2.

Furthermore, the National WWI Museum and Memorial in Kansas City holds nearly 500,000 physical objects. Under the stewardship of Senior Curator Doran Cart, they cataloged massive collections of personal mementos and identity tags. They do not possess a single privately minted, unit-specific bronze challenge coin from this era3.

Why? Because minting solid bronze coins in 1918 was practically impossible. The War Industries Board strictly regulated strategic metals like bronze, copper, and tin, directing them exclusively toward the mass production of artillery shells and munitions4. A lieutenant attempting to privately source a foundry and secure restricted bronze for non-essential decorative tokens would have faced insurmountable legal and logistical hurdles.

 

The Real 12th Aero Squadron

Online forums frequently attach this myth to the 12th Aero Squadron. The 12th was a highly active observation squadron, and its commander, Lewis Hyde Brereton, kept meticulous diaries detailing the daily realities of his unit. Glaringly absent from his records is any mention of a private commission of solid bronze medallions5.

The squadron did have wealthy Ivy League volunteers, such as Second Lieutenant William Key Bond Emerson, Jr., a Harvard student. But Emerson’s reality lacked a Hollywood ending. In May 1918, his aircraft was struck by anti-aircraft fire. He was not captured, he did not escape, and he was not saved by a coin; he was tragically killed in action6.

 

How the Myth was Forged

If the coins did not exist in 1918, where did the myth come from? It is a classic case of narrative conflation. Early aviators were awarded physical medals by the civilian Aero Club of America7. However, these were formal medals of honor suspended from ribbons for ceremonial wear, not pocket-carried challenge coins. Modern military members heard that WWI pilots received "medallions" and simply projected their modern drinking culture backward onto history.

The definitive historical consensus is that the physical challenge coin actually originated in the early 1960s with the 11th and 10th Special Forces Groups8.

The drinking game, however, comes from a much grittier place: the Vietnam War. Infantrymen in Southeast Asia initiated "bullet checks" in front-line bars to prove they had seen combat. This escalated dangerously as soldiers began slamming unexploded 105mm artillery shells onto bars in displays of machismo. Military command intervened for safety, directing that live ordnance be replaced by custom-stamped unit coins9.

In 1994, an article in Soldiers Magazine by Major Jeanne Fraser Brooks popularized the WWI myth to the wider military1. The collective military consciousness, perhaps seeking a more dignified origin than a dangerous Vietnam barroom game, successfully grafted their new tradition onto the romanticized framework of early combat aviation.

The "Wealthy Lieutenant" may not exist in the archival record, but his enduring legend proves that sometimes, a good story is just as powerful as the truth.

 

References

1) Brooks, Major Jeanne Fraser. "Coining a Tradition." Soldiers Magazine, August 1994.

2) Exhaustive archival reviews conducted by the U.S. Army Center of Military History, Air Force Historical Research Agency, and Naval History and Heritage Command.

3) Cart, Doran. Senior Curator artifact collections, National WWI Museum and Memorial.

4) United States War Industries Board. Strategic Metals and Civilian Conservation Mandates, 1918.

5) Brereton, Lewis Hyde. Diaries and Operational Records of the 12th Aero Squadron.

6) Combat records of Second Lieutenant William Key Bond Emerson, Jr., American Field Service and 12th Aero Squadron, May 1918.

7) Boyd, Gary. History and Museums Program for the Air Education and Training Command, regarding Aero Club of America Medals.

8) Merritt, Roxanne. Curator, John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Museum, Fort Bragg.

9) Spink, Barry. Archivist, Air Force Historical Research Agency, Maxwell Air Force Base.

Author Bio

Alexander Kidder

Alex Kidder is the CEO of KidderCorp, a veteran-owned business specializing in the design and manufacturing of custom challenge coins. He brings years of expertise to preserving military traditions and helping organizations tell their unique stories through physical craftsmanship. Editor's note: This is a partnership post, and we think the challenge coins are great products genuinely worth your time.