They say history repeats. But sometimes, it just whispers.
In an age where speech is filtered, flagged, and fact-checked into oblivion, it’s tempting to believe that coded language and satire are inventions of the digital era - tools for cheeky rebels with clever usernames. But those tools are old. Very old.
So old, in fact, that George Washington used them.
Before America had a constitution, it had a codebook. And when words were dangerous, the wise didn’t shout - they signaled.
Let’s set the scene: 1778. New York is crawling with British troops, spies, and snitches. The city is a redcoat stronghold, and every letter, tavern whisper, and knock at the door could bring trouble.
In steps George Washington, not just general, but the architect of America’s first covert intelligence network, the Culper Ring.
He entrusted its creation to Major Benjamin Tallmadge (code name: Samuel Culper), who then recruited a team of ordinary citizens with extraordinary discretion.
They didn’t wear uniforms. They wore aprons. They ran ferries. They hung laundry.
They whispered freedom through invisible ink, alias-laced letters, and carefully coded signals.
When You Can’t Scream, Hang the Washing
Enter Anna Strong, Long Island housewife and tactical laundress.
Her job? Sending signals to fellow spy Caleb Brewster, a seaman who rowed messages across Long Island Sound to Connecticut.
Her method?
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One black petticoat on the line = “A message is ready.”
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Handkerchiefs placed in a specific order = “Here’s where to find it.”
Anna didn’t rant. She didn’t protest. She let the fabric do the talking.
She turned a household chore into espionage. Ladies, take notes.
Write Nothing. Mean Everything.
The Culper Ring mastered the art of saying absolutely nothing, and meaning quite a lot.
Using “sympathetic stain” (invisible ink), they concealed intelligence between the lines of mundane letters. Messages were activated by heat, or by chemical treatment (often with gallotannic acid or iron sulfate).
What looked like a letter about Aunt Susan’s sore foot might actually contain troop numbers, warship locations, or the identity of a double agent.
"Concealment is as much the art of war as surprise."
— G.W., probably after reading one of Tallmadge’s chemically-altered grocery lists.
Benedict Arnold: The Spy Who Would Be King (of Nothing)
Every good revolution needs a villain. And this one was dressed in blue and gold, embittered by slights, and seduced by British gold.
Benedict Arnold (1741-1801) was an early American hero of the Revolutionary War (1775-83) who later became one of the most infamous traitors in U.S. history after he switched sides and fought for the British. At the outbreak of the war, Arnold participated in the capture of the British garrison of Fort Ticonderoga in 1775. In 1776, he hindered a British invasion of New York at the Battle of Lake Champlain.
The following year, he played a crucial role in bringing about the surrender of British General John Burgoyne’s (1722-92) army at Saratoga. Yet Arnold never received the recognition he thought he deserved.
Benedict Arnold, once a hero at Saratoga, grew resentful. He believed he deserved more - more praise, more money, more power. So he struck a deal with the enemy.
Arnold offered to surrender West Point to the British for £20,000 and a commission in the British army.
His handler? Major John André, charming, literate, doomed.
Their messages were carefully coded and smuggled - but the Ring's constant vigilance made the waters treacherous.
Though not directly credited with the capture, the Culper Ring’s intelligence helped Washington realise that British espionage was active and aggressive inside American ranks. Suspicion swelled around Arnold.
Then fate struck: André was captured while disguised in civilian clothes, carrying treasonous plans in his boot.
Arnold fled. André was hanged. Washington was devastated - but determined.
'If Benedict Arnold had died of the injuries he sustained in the Battle of Saratoga, he would one the most celebrated, and fondly remembered military leaders in American History.'
Revolutionary Field Manual (Now With Real History!)
Then | Now |
---|---|
Anna Strong’s laundry code | Visual memes with double meanings |
George Washington’s alias: 711 | @FreedomFarmer1776 |
Invisible ink in personal letters | Sarcasm on social media |
Major André’s boot papers | Leaked emails with a PDF attachment |
Culper spy routes on horseback | Encrypted chat threads with a VPN |
The price on Arnold’s head | The cost of telling the truth online |
When Tyranny Tightens, Truth Finds New Shoes
George Washington knew that open rebellion is messy, but subtlety is a scalpel. He wielded it well.
The Founders were not naïve. They were not safe. And they certainly weren’t “uncontroversial.”
They hung truth on washing lines. They inked it between the lines of boring letters. They coded it in names, numbers, and nods. They whispered truth, because shouting it would have seen them hanged.
Conclusion: Code Is Not Cowardice - It’s Craft
Satire, innuendo, and irony are not just tools of cheeky writers. They are shields for free speech, especially when that freedom grows thin.
To speak in symbols is not weakness. It is resistance refined.
Let the serious miss the joke. Let the censors chase shadows. Because as Anna Strong knew: Sometimes the revolution hangs on the line. Literally. And some of us are hanging by a thread.
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