Washington’s summer of silence: How discipline, not drama, won American independence An analysis of Eliot Cohen’s essay

In his essay for The Atlantic, Eliot A. Cohen—professor emeritus at Johns Hopkins University and seasoned commentator on war and strategy—delivers a compelling corrective to how we remember the American Revolution and, more pointedly, its central figure: George Washington. His piece focuses on the months of apparent calm in the summer and fall of 1775 during the siege of Boston—a period often overlooked in favour of more dramatic episodes. Yet, as Cohen argues, this interlude was pivotal in transforming a loose collection of colonial militias into a coherent Continental Army, and in shaping Washington into a national leader.

The brilliance of Cohen’s piece lies not in unearthing new facts, but in recontextualising familiar ones with quiet urgency. His central thesis is simple yet potent: American independence was not merely won through acts of battlefield heroism, but through the mundane, difficult, and unromantic work of nation-building. Washington, newly appointed and largely unknown to the New England troops he would command, faced a challenge that was as cultural as it was military. He was a Southern gentleman tasked with commanding a motley crew of psalm-singing Puritans, freethinkers, and even armed Black soldiers—people as alien to him as he was to them.

Cohen details how Washington overcame his biases, adapting to a deeply unfamiliar environment while gradually earning the loyalty of his soldiers. His leadership was defined not by tactical genius—Cohen acknowledges Washington's frequent blunders in strategy—but by a disciplined self-command and moral authority. In this sense, Washington's greatness was forged in moments not of glory, but of humility, logistical diligence, and emotional restraint.

The article is also a subtle critique of modern historical discourse. Cohen condemns the contemporary tendency—especially in academia and cultural institutions—to either dismiss foundational figures like Washington for their moral failings, or to sanitise them into kitsch icons devoid of complexity. He positions himself against both the erasure of historical nuance by projects like the 1619 Project, and the propagandistic oversimplification favoured by politically motivated efforts to whitewash America’s past. In doing so, Cohen makes a case for a balanced and morally mature historical memory—one that acknowledges Washington’s slaveholding and elite background, but also honours the transformational leadership that enabled American independence.

Cohen’s essay is particularly resonant as the United States approaches its semiquincentennial. He urges readers to look beyond anniversaries and fireworks to remember the substance of what built the country: discipline, adaptation, and leadership under duress. He restores dignity to the concept of individual greatness, reminding us that character can shape the course of history.

By Vugar Khalilov