Trump administration returns traitor's portrait to West Point

As reported by  Greg Jaffe in the New York Times, the Pentagon's has decided to reinstall a portrait of Confederate General Robert E. Lee to West Point. This dramatically reverses recent, needed efforts to root out Confederate symbols from ourmilitary institutions. This represents the administration's commitment to what it calls "honoring history" rather than "erasing it."

As we've documented previously here, this isn't about preserving history—it's about perpetuating the Lost Cause mythology that has poisoned American understanding of the Civil War for over a century. The West Point portrait's reinstallation fits a troubling pattern that includes restoring the Arlington Confederate Monument and reinstalling the Albert Pike statue in Washington, D.C.

This is the most recognizable move in this direction thus far though.

The portrait's troubled history

The massive 20-foot painting depicts General Lee in Confederate gray with an enslaved person guiding his horse in the background. It hung prominently in West Point's library for seven decades before its 2022 removal. Its removal came as part of a congressionally mandated effort following the 2020 protests after George Floyd's murder. Lawmakers passed legislation requiring the removal of Confederate names and symbols from military installations.

A federal naming commission specifically ordered West Point to eliminate all displays that "commemorate or memorialize the Confederacy," leading to the portrait's placement in storage alongside the renaming of various campus locations bearing Lee's name, including Lee Barracks, Lee Road, and Lee Gate.

One of the most forceful voices on this commission was fellow alumnus, General Ty Seidule. He is a renowned scholar on this symbolism and its use. Read his book

Administrative workarounds versus legality

The restoration raises significant legal questions. IT appears to directly contradict the 2020 federal law. Army Communications Director Rebecca Hodson defended the decision, stating that West Point is "prepared to restore historical names, artifacts, and assets to their original form and place" under the current administration's philosophy of honoring rather than erasing history. She is jus toeing the line from above and everyone knows it.

With the legality stark, the administration has employed creative workarounds elsewhere. Renaming military bases after obscure soldiers who shared surnames with Confederate generals provides an obvious example.

For instance, rather than simply restoring Fort Lee's original name, they honored Private Fitz Lee, a Black Spanish-American War veteran, while Fort Bragg was renamed after Private Roland L. Bragg, who served in World War II.

This pattern of linguistic gymnastics mirrors what we've seen with other Confederate memorials. As we noted regarding Pete Hegseth's restoration of the Arlington Confederate Monument, officials carefully avoid mentioning the Confederacy directly—instead using euphemisms like "reconciliation monument" to circumvent congressional prohibitions against Confederate commemoration while still serving their base.

This restoration does not even pretend to have the fig leaf of reconciliation or Masonic history. The man led a traitorous rebellion and waged war on the United States Army (calling it the Union is also disingenuous).

Historical context

The portrait's original installation in 1952 reflected the mid-20th century's effort to rehabilitate Lee's image as a revered military figure. General Maxwell Taylor spoke at its unveiling, arguing that Civil War divisions had "no real meaning to our present generation" —a statement made during the early days of military desegregation while Jim Crow laws still governed much of the South.

This historical context underscores the legacy surrounding Confederate symbols in military settings. The timing wasn't coincidental—as we've explored regarding Stone Mountain and other Confederate monuments. These installations typically occurred during periods of white supremacist resurgence, designed to intimidate and remind Black Americans of their "place" in society.

While Lee did serve as West Point's superintendent and graduated near the top of his class, his decision to lead Confederate forces against the United States remains an act of treason. Venerating him for that sole bit seems like naming a college him where served for less than five years.

What's next and how far will it go?

The reinstatement reflects the ongoing national debate over how America should commemorate its past, particularly regarding figures who fought to preserve slavery. It pits those who want to falsely glorify the country and mask any wrongdoing agains actual historians.

Chattel slavery was an evil institution. Native American genocide was an evil act. Full stop.

Despite all known facts, Trump has consistently praised Lee as "the greatest strategist of them all" and criticized efforts to remove Confederate monuments as attacks on American heritage. Pickett's charge was one great bit of strategy, no?

This decision will reignite debates about the appropriate place of Confederate symbols in federal institutions, especially military academies that train future American officers. The move represents a significant shift from the previous administration's efforts to confront the military's relationship with Confederate legacy.

The white-supremacists now want to openly embrace that legscy.

Restoring the painting also relates to a broader cultural campaign. As we've documented regarding the Trump administration's review of Smithsonian museums, there's a systematic effort to reshape how America's premier cultural institutions present history. Will they remove what officials call "divisive or partisan narratives" while promoting a vision of American exceptionalism that glosses over uncomfortable truths about slavery and racial oppression.

From place names that glorify the racist past to federal monuments, this represents more than policy reversal—it's a deliberate embrace of Lost Cause mythology that has been used for over a century to minimize slavery's horrors and maintain white supremacist narratives.

As this story continues to develop, it highlights the persistent tensions between preserving historical memory and reckoning with the painful aspects of America's past—tensions that remain as relevant today as they were when the portrait was first hung over 70 years ago.

We must hold their feet to the fire on this. It's our raison d' etre.

Non in cautus futuri.