View this post on the web at [link removed]

It began quietly, as acts of forgetting often do. In the Dutch province of Limburg, visitors to the American War Cemetery at Margraten—rows of white crosses stretching toward the trees—noticed something missing. Two panels, once depicting Black American soldiers who had helped liberate the Netherlands, had vanished. No vandalism, no announcement, only absence—and, soon, an official explanation that made the silence heavier than loss.
It was November 2025, eighty years after George H. Pruitt Jr.—a twenty-three-year-old communications specialist from Georgia—drowned in a Dutch river just weeks after Germany’s surrender. His portrait, and the story of the 172 African American troops buried or memorialized there—about one in eight of the liberating force—had disappeared.
The American Battle Monuments Commission confirmed the removal, calling it a “review.”
Dutch outlets traced the timeline of the decision to the period when Washington was intensifying its campaign against diversity, equity, and inclusion programs. A gesture meant to make memory “neutral” had instead revived the very discrimination those men had died fighting.
“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read.” — James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time (1963)
Within weeks, eleven of Limburg’s fifteen provincial parties called for the panels to be restored. Theo Bovens, a Dutch senator and former governor of Limburg, called their removal a dishonor. Historian Kees Ribbens, of the Netherlands Institute for War, Holocaust, and Genocide Studies, said remembrance “must show who truly liberated us.”
Their tone was calm, but their meaning was unmistakable: this was not bureaucracy; it was betrayal.
The descendants of the enslaved—men who freed a population of mostly white Europeans who, had they been suddenly transplanted to the United States, would have enjoyed rights those liberators themselves were denied—were being erased from the record of liberation itself. To understand that obscenity, one must look backward across four centuries of broken promises and recognize them as one continuous insult.
The Long Shadow
For nearly two-and-a-half centuries after 1619, enslaved Africans and their descendants built the economy of a nation that called itself free.
When the Civil War ended slavery, freedom remained rationed. Reconstruction—the twelve-year effort to rebuild the South and extend rights to formerly enslaved people—faltered and then collapsed.
By 1877, federal troops had withdrawn, leaving the South to “redemption,” a word that disguised a violent white-supremacist restoration. For almost thirteen generations afterward, racial inequality was not an accident of democracy but its daily practice. In 1896, the Supreme Court’s decision in Plessy v. Ferguson declared segregation constitutional under the phrase “separate but equal.”
Only in 1954 did Brown v. Board of Education begin to undo that lie, and another decade passed before the Voting Rights Act guaranteed the ballot Reconstruction had promised a century earlier. Freedom, even then, remained rationed.
When the Second World War began, the young Black men who enlisted were only three or four generations removed from bondage and barely one from the absolute height of Jim Crow—the system of legally enforced segregation that governed the American South from 1877 to 1965. They were born unequal, taught the creed of equality, and punished for believing it.
“America is woven of many strands; I would recognize them and let it so remain. Our fate is to become one, and yet many.” — Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (1952), Epilogue
Yet they went anyway.
In 1944, the all-Black 761st Tank Battalion broke through German defenses; the Tuskegee Airmen—America’s first Black military aviators—escorted bombers over Europe; logistics and engineering units built roads and delivered supplies under fire. When they reached the Netherlands, ordinary Dutch citizens saw only liberators.
A Black American soldier could walk into a pub in Maastricht, be offered a drink, or receive tulips from a child in gratitude. In Dutch towns, people could sit anywhere on a bus, marry whom they loved, speak without fear—rights the liberators themselves did not yet have at home. To their own Army they remained segregated servicemen, entitled to risk but not to respect.
The paradox was unmistakable: in Europe they delivered civil freedom; in America they returned to a nation that denied it.
Photographs from 1945 show their smiles beside Dutch children; a year later, American headlines showed those same veterans beaten for trying to vote.After victory, a new American middle class began to take shape.
The G.I. Bill—officially the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944—offered returning veterans college tuition, home loans, and small-business credit. It turned wartime service into middle-class prosperity.
Yet local banks and colleges often excluded Black veterans through redlining—the practice of denying loans or access to Black neighborhoods. Whites-only unions and restrictive real-estate covenants completed the barrier. The social revolution was real but racially fenced. Its legacy still runs through family wealth: some could build and pass it on; others were stopped at the threshold.
The moral injury was unmistakable—the state had deemed their blood necessary but their humanity negotiable.
For Black Americans, the so-called golden age of the American middle class—from 1947 to 1973, when prosperity was more broadly shared—shone like a city they had helped build but could not enter. Still, they believed. They raised families, sent children to newly integrated schools, served again in Korea and Vietnam, and kept faith that the nation might yet honor its word.
What began in 1619 did not end in 1965.
Barriers to voting crept back through court rulings; housing segregation returned under polite new names—“creditworthiness” and “school-district quality.” Federal data show that Black defendants still receive longer sentences than whites for the same crimes; Black family wealth remains one-sixth that of whites; Black maternal mortality is triple; and police kill unarmed Black civilians more than twice as often.
These are not scattered statistics but coordinates on a moral map that begins with a missing plaque in Limburg. Each number is a remnant of policy, and each policy an echo of ownership. Systems built to rank human worth rarely dismantle themselves—they adapt, surviving in new bureaucratic forms.
The Reckoning
By 2025, the same systems that once enforced segregation and economic exclusion had found new patrons in government. Policies that had long divided Americans by race and class were now repackaged as battles over “fairness” and “merit.” The old hierarchies had returned in modern form—no longer enforced by law, but by rhetoric, bureaucracy, and spectacle. Since returning to office, President Donald Trump has turned state power into performance, reviving the moral grammar of Jim Crow under the language of order.
On June 8 he declared that “a once-great American city, Los Angeles, has been invaded and occupied by Illegal Aliens and Criminals,” ordering officials to “take all such action necessary to liberate Los Angeles.” A month later he granted immigration agents “total authorization” to use “whatever means necessary” and called protesters “slimeballs.” In November, he told 60 Minutes that immigration raids “haven’t gone far enough.” Earlier that spring, the immigration agency posted online that it was stopping illegal “ideas” at the border—then deleted the message after public outrage.
Each line carried an echo of older language: the slaveholder’s fear of “invasion,” the segregationist’s cry for “order,” the demagogue’s faith that cruelty cleanses. These were not slips of the tongue but statements of conviction—a worldview in which hierarchy is not a flaw but a foundation. Cruelty was presented as clarity; mercy recast as weakness.
The performance soon extended beyond words. During an October shutdown that halted food assistance for millions, the President unveiled a “Lincoln Bathroom” remodeled in black-and-white marble and gold fixtures.
That same week, part of the White House East Wing was demolished to make way for a ninety-thousand-square-foot ballroom. At his Florida resort, he attended a Great Gatsby–themed party while millions faced the lapse of food aid. Luxury above, hunger below—the image said everything policy did not. Courts strained to keep nutrition benefits flowing while social media toured the marble taps. The point was never plumbing; it was pedagogy—an instruction in who matters and who does not.
This context explains, but does not excuse, what happened in Limburg. The plaques were not toppled by mobs. They were removed by committee—through emails and memoranda written in the bureaucratic language of “neutrality.” The commission called it a routine review; critics called it revision. In that dialect, neutrality means forgetting, and forgetting is the oldest road back to injustice.
The Dutch response offered a counterexample.
Local parties demanded reinstatement; historians and lawmakers called the erasure a moral failure. They understood that truthful remembrance is not “identity politics” but civic conscience.
Across the ocean, that conscience was receding. Diversity programs were abolished by executive order and denounced as discrimination; a dormant rule returned, allowing political appointees to purge career civil servants. Treaties with the World Health Organization and the Paris Climate Accord were abandoned in the name of sovereignty—a word that, for the poor, meant isolation.
Each decision narrowed belonging and called the narrowing virtue. It was the oldest American pattern, reanimated: extend the language of freedom, then weaponize its loopholes.
Moral decline seldom announces itself in headlines.
It arrives disguised as humor, as efficiency, as a memo about formatting or a decision to “simplify” a wall text. Each jest at compassion’s expense dulls the civic nerve; each quiet erasure prepares the next.
That is why two missing panels in a cemetery matter, why a marble bathroom unveiled during hunger matters, why the phrase “invaded and occupied” broadcast to millions matters. Words build worlds. They define who counts and who does not.
In Limburg, amid the white crosses and Stars of David, the graves of Black soldiers still bear their names even if the panels above them are gone.
Their silence is its own indictment. Each stone asks what freedom is worth if it forgets who paid for it. Answering requires more than reinstalling plaques. It demands the restoration of character—the resolve to honor what is honorable, to reject the politics of spite, to remember that greatness was never gilded in gold but earned in sacrifice.
America once proved that character could redeem its history.
It can do so again, but only if it acknowledges the unbroken chain of injustice stretching from 1619 to 2025 and resolves to end it. More than two thousand years ago, Heraclitus of Ephesus—the pre-Socratic philosopher who taught that all things flow and that moral order is the measure of fate—wrote that character is destiny.
He meant that the future of any people is inscribed in the habits of its heart. If he was right, his fragment was not philosophy but prophecy. America has begun to praise what it once condemned.
The descent—quiet, unmarked, and without shame—has already begun, and if character is destiny, then our future is only the past returning, stripped of remorse.
Brian Daitzman is the Editor of The Intellectualist [ [link removed] ]. Read the original article here. [ [link removed] ]
References
DutchNews | Nov 10, 2025 | “Calls for permanent memorial in Limburg to black US liberators.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
DutchReview | Nov 2025 | “Limburg protests removal of information panels highlighting black soldiers at American Cemetery.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
Yahoo News | Nov 2025 | “‘Unacceptable’: Leaders demand permanent memorial for Black WWII soldiers after plaques removed.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
Executive orders / federal actions
Federal Register | Jan 29, 2025 | “Executive Order 14151 — Ending Radical and Wasteful Government DEI Programs and Preferencing.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
GovInfo (White House DCPD) | Jan 20, 2025 | “Executive Order 14151 — Ending Radical and Wasteful Government DEI Programs and Preferencing (PDF).” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
CRS (Congressional Research Service) | 2025 | “Recent Executive Actions on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI).” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ] Congress.gov [ [link removed] ]
ICE “illegal ideas” post
POLITICO | Apr 10, 2025 | “ICE says its job is to stop illegal ‘ideas’ crossing the border in since-deleted X post.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ] Politico [ [link removed] ]
Newsweek | Apr 11, 2025 | “ICE deletes post about stopping the flow of illegal ‘ideas’ at the border.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
Trump rhetoric, posts, and interviews
Al Jazeera | Jun 11, 2025 | “Is Trump right about a ‘migrant invasion’ in Los Angeles? What the facts say.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
Newsweek | Jun 9, 2025 | “Donald Trump authorizes officials to take ‘action necessary’ to liberate LA.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
CBS News | Nov 2, 2025 | “Trump says ICE raids ‘haven’t gone far enough’ — 60 Minutes.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
CBS (60 Minutes Overtime video) | Nov 2, 2025 | “Trump says ICE raids ‘haven’t gone far enough’.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ] CBS
White House renovations and shutdown optics
Reuters | Oct 31, 2025 | “Trump unveils renovated Lincoln bathroom after East Wing demolition.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
The Washington Post | Oct 31, 2025 | “Trump touts Lincoln Bathroom overhaul featuring marble, gold fixtures.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
People | Oct 31, 2025 | “Donald Trump hosts Great Gatsby–themed Halloween party as Americans brace for SNAP benefits to expire.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
Snopes | Nov 3, 2025 | “Investigating rumor Trump spent $3.4M in taxpayer money on ‘Great Gatsby’ Halloween party.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
The Independent | Nov 10, 2025 | “Trump attends another extravagant party at Mar-a-Lago during shutdown.” | [link removed] [ [link removed] ]
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Unsubscribe [link removed]?