As fireworks ignite the July sky, we celebrate more than a date on a calendar—we commemorate a daring act of rebellion, a radical idea that turned the world on its head: that the governed—not kings, not tyrants—have the right to govern themselves.
The American Revolution was no mere tax revolt. It was a political, moral and philosophical uprising against the divine right of monarchs. A people declared they were no longer subjects of a crown, but citizens of a republic. They were guided by Enlightenment thinkers like John Locke, who taught that government must derive from the consent of the governed, and that liberty was a natural right—not a royal favor.
It was a revolution of the mind as much as the battlefield. When the Founders signed the Declaration of Independence, they issued a list of grievances against King George III, accusing him of obstructing laws, dissolving representative houses, and erecting “an absolute Tyranny over these States.” Sound familiar?
At the close of the Constitutional Convention, Benjamin Franklin was asked what form of government the delegates had created. His reply: “A republic—if you can keep it.” Two and a half centuries later, the question remains more urgent than ever: Can we keep it?
Today, the nation is in turmoil. Our divisions echo the tumultuous years before the Civil War—when the nation was torn by slavery, sectionalism and the moral rot of compromise. From Bleeding Kansas to Dred Scott, we learned what happens when the machinery of law is used to deny humanity rather than protect it.
Now we face a different but no less perilous test. There is a rising thirst for strongmen—leaders who preach domination over dialogue, grievance over grace. Some dream of governing not with the consent of the people, but with the certainty of divine right. They call themselves patriots, but worship power, not liberty.
Thomas Jefferson warned, “The tyranny of the legislature is really the danger most to be feared.” James Madison cautioned in Federalist 10 that “factions” driven by passion and resentment could undo the very foundations of the republic. And George Washington, in his farewell address, begged future generations to beware the rise of demagogues and the “spirit of party” that would blind citizens to truth.
We ignored those warnings at our peril.
Today, truth is distorted with abandon. Lies are no longer whispered—they’re shouted, broadcast and cheered. Public servants who once swore loyalty to the Constitution now bow to the mob or to money. And many Americans, weary and disillusioned, wonder if the republic is already lost.
But resistance is not futile. It is essential.
To keep this republic, We the People must do more than wave flags—we must wave off apathy. We must demand liberty and justice for all—not just for those who vote like us, look like us, or pray like us. We must remember that courage built this nation—not cowardice. That compromise sustained it—not cruelty. That truth is not relative. And that freedom is not guaranteed.
Lincoln reminded us that “a house divided against itself cannot stand.” So let us resolve to rise above division—not with naiveté, but with principle.
This Independence Day, let us not ask what freedoms we still enjoy—but what freedoms we are willing to defend. The time for choosing is now.
Will we remain free citizens of a republic? Or will we become subjects of fear, seduced by the promise of order but stripped of liberty?
The answer will not come from Washington. It must come from us.
