On this day in 1805, an American commodore parked a fleet outside a North African harbor and ended a war without firing a single shot.
Most Americans have never heard his name. He is the reason the United States Navy exists in the form it does today.
The First Barbary War had been grinding on for four years. The Pasha of Tripoli, Yusuf Karamanli, had been seizing American merchant ships and enslaving their crews for over a decade, demanding tribute from a young republic that could barely pay its own army. Thomas Jefferson, who hated standing militaries on principle, had finally decided enough was enough. He sent a squadron.
It went badly. The USS Philadelphia ran aground off Tripoli in 1803 and her entire crew was captured. Stephen Decatur famously snuck in and burned her at anchor to keep the Pasha from refloating her, which Lord Nelson called "the most bold and daring act of the age." But the war dragged on.
By spring 1805, the squadron commander Samuel Barron was sick, exhausted, and ready to quit. On May 22, 1805, he handed command to John Rodgers.
Rodgers did not waste time.
He had inherited four frigates, three brigs, a sloop-of-war, three schooners, two bomb vessels, and nine gunboats. The largest American fleet ever assembled to that date. Four days after taking command, he sailed the entire force directly into the harbor at Tripoli and dropped anchor in plain view of the Pasha's palace.
No bombardment. No threats. He just sat there.
The Pasha looked at his harbor, looked at twenty-two American warships pointed at his city, looked at his options, and sued for peace within the week.
The treaty was signed June 4, 1805. The American hostages came home. The Barbary states never seriously challenged American shipping again. And the United States Navy, four years old, had just forced a hostile foreign power to surrender by showing up.
Every great power moment since traces back to that anchor drop in Tripoli harbor.
221 years ago today. Almost nobody teaches this.
We are saddened and heartbroken to share the news of the passing of Kyle Busch, a two-time Cup champion and one of our sport's greatest and fiercest drivers. He was 41 years old.
We extend our deepest condolences to the Busch family, Richard Childress Racing and the entire motorsports community.
These two giant turtles have been fighting each other for more than 120 years.
According to the zoo, one turtle stole the other’s food 120 years ago, and since that day they became enemies.
There hasn’t been a single day where they don’t fight for 2–3 minutes😂
Most people think of philosophy as an abstraction that doesn't touch the real world, but they're wrong.
Most real world problems are philosophy problems, and most philosophy problems are "giving things the wrong names".
For example, if you call feral drug addicts "homeless people", then you can't solve the problem. You can only buy more houses for feral drug addicts to destroy.
In this case, we called the police and courts the "justice system".
But they're not. They can't be the justice system.
The function of a justice system would be to give everyone what they deserve.
Now, I deserve a hundred million dollars, a private Caribbean island, and a foot massage from Lauren Bacall in her prime, but I don't see the "justice" system lifting a finger to correct any of this, do you?
No, what we are supposed to have is a public safety system.
The function of a public safety system is to keep the public and their property safe.
If we understood that, we wouldn't care about what criminals deserve. We would care how likely they are to do it again. Or something worse.
In a public safety system, retardation and mental illness are not migrating factors. They are the opposite.
Because they mean that the criminal is more likely to pose a future threat.
We all understand this.
We all understand that the feral retard who stabs strangers on the train for being White and beautiful is a worse person than the man who murders his wife and her lover when he catches them in the act.
Not because of some abstract calculus of moral agency, of who is disadvantaged and who isn't, but because one is certainly going to murder more people if he can, while the other is a lot less likely to.
We've known for centuries, if not millennia, that it's the same small percentage of people doing all the robbing, raping, and murdering, over and over and over again.
And we've known for centuries that if you physically remove them from society, that's 100% effective in stopping them from doing it again.
The only hurdle is philosophical. Call it a "justice" system, and you have to argue endlessly about morality and redemption, and then some leftie thug-hugger weaponizes your own Christianity against you.
Call it public safety, and you confine the argument to likelihood of reoffense. Then you are in the realm of statistics. Which you can compute.
It all starts with naming things correctly, according to their actual nature.
I’m noticing a lot of foreigners who seem to not understand why we’d risk hundreds of lives, spend millions of dollars, and sacrifice several aircraft to rescue one guy. And the reason they don’t understand is also the reason people can’t be made American by a piece of paper.
As an Iranian watching this rescue mission unfold, I was praying the American pilot would make it out alive, not just for him, but so the Islamic Republic could not use him as a bargaining chip or claim some twisted “victory.”
At the same time, I felt a deep envy.
Your government sent elite special forces, million-dollar aircraft, and moved heaven and earth to bring one American home. No hesitation. No excuses.
In Iran, the regime uses human shields and recruited child soldiers to clear minefields during the Iran-Iraq war. They treat their own people like disposable tools. They are now recruiting child soldiers as we speak.
The Islamic Republic has zero regard for human life. That’s the brutal difference.
One side risks everything to save their own.
The other sacrifices their own to stay in power.
This hits hard when you have lived under both realities.
This is why Americans are the deadliest fighters on earth.
I met a priest yesterday who just got accepted to chaplain school in Newport. I asked him the obvious question: Marines or Navy?
Navy, he said. His face fell a little. He told me he could never be a Marine because every Marine is a rifleman, and as a priest he can’t carry a weapon.
He’s hoping to get assigned to a Marine unit anyway. All chaplains are Navy officers, so that’s the only door in.
I laughed. I feel a little bad about that.
Then I explained to him what “Devil Doc” means. The Marine Corps doesn’t have medics. They use Navy Corpsmen.
I told him: when you get out to the fleet, find a Marine sergeant with a couple of Purple Hearts and tell him Devil Docs “aren’t real Marines.”
Be prepared to duck.
Marines are violently particular about who gets to wear their uniform. Navy Corpsmen and Navy chaplains who have eaten dirt alongside them in combat qualify. Full stop.
My dad was Air Force. Not even Navy. I remember going to VFW halls with him as a kid. Someone would ask him what service, he’d say Air Force, and the room would chuckle a little. Then they’d find out he was a medic, and the air in the room changed. Something close to reverence.
Dad hated being honored. He had one line he used to deflect it:
“I didn’t do much. Save your praise for my cousin the PJ.”
That always broke the ice.
PJs are the Air Force special operators who go into hell to pull downed pilots out.
They will take casualties and are prepared to die to rescue a single pilot or crewman.
The math doesn’t math out. Why would any combat force take multiple casualties to rescue one air force jet jockey?
What the padre is about to learn is that the military has a hierarchy that has nothing to do with rank, and nothing to do with the service stitched on your chest.
Have you deployed?
Have you seen combat?
In every firefight there are men who move toward the guns and men who hang back. And when the guy at the tip of the spear is pinned down, bleeding, with rounds cracking past his head, there is exactly one word he screams into the radio.
“Medic.”
Here is the catch, and it is the whole reason America fights the way America fights.
That Marine is willing to push forward into fire BECAUSE he knows the Corpsman is coming. He knows the medevac birds will land in the hot LZ.
He knows the Devil Doc will drag him out by his plate carrier if it comes to that.
And, if the medic can’t help, if he has what Dad called “injuries incompatible with life,” he knows that chaplain will crawl on his belly to administer last rights and deliver him to heaven.
The F-15 pilot punching out over enemy territory knows the same thing. He knows the PJs will move heaven and earth to reach him, and turn whatever is shooting at him into a smoking crater of hell on earth on the way in.
This is the quiet math underneath American violence.
Our warriors are the fiercest on earth not because they are more aggressive, not just because they are better trained, or better equipped, though they are all of those things. They are the fiercest because they know, in their bones, that when they key the mic and call for help, help is coming in hot.
Take that away, and you don’t have the U.S. military anymore. You have a security force.
I don't think I had fully appreciated how this works, but it's obvious now. NASA is aiming for a point in space where they know the moon will be. Like throwing to a receiver, but on a somewhat larger and faster scale.