When the 13 American colonies separated from British rule to become sovereign states free from allegiance to the British Crown, they did so by asserting that all people are created equal and endowed with fundamental rights, including “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
Those colonies argued that the primary purpose of government is to protect those unalienable rights and that legitimate political power is derived only from the consent of the governed. The Declaration of Independence outlined the idea that if a government becomes destructive to those ends, the people have the right to alter or abolish it and institute a new government.
That is why the observances of Memorial Day, Juneteenth and Independence Day are so significant. Independence Day celebrates the aspirational part of the American story, while Memorial Day serves as a reminder of the blood that was shed to preserve and expand that freedom in the generations that followed.
Today, Americans no longer receive information solely through 24-hour television news cycles. We live amid a constant stream of information delivered through phones, computers and social media, whether accurate, misleading or false.
Last week, the nation watched as former President Barack Obama opened his presidential library during the same news cycle that included reports of a 1-year-old child killed following a shoplifting call involving the alleged theft of diapers from a Walmart. The incident was one of several recent examples that renewed debate over how Black children are treated within the justice system.
Meanwhile, reports continued of American citizens confronting federal authorities in defense of immigrant neighbors in communities from Minneapolis to St. Paul, Minnesota. Federal prosecutors recently unsealed indictments against 15 Minnesota activists connected to anti-ICE protests that are evolving into active, nonviolent resistance in the face of increasing violence by the federal government.
Before Memorial Day, the Supreme Court’s decision in Louisiana v. Callais significantly weakened one of the Voting Rights Act’s most important protections against racial vote dilution, opening the floodgates for Southern states seeking to eliminate similar majority-minority districts to maximize Republican political power at the expense of Black voting strength.
As the nation approaches its 250th anniversary, Obama reminded audiences how radical the concept of self-government was in 1776.
He noted that much of human history had been defined by conquest, rigid social hierarchies and inherited privilege — a world in which power, wealth and status flowed through lineage and the many were ruled by the few.
Obama highlighted the Declaration of Independence’s assertion that all people are created equal and possess unalienable rights, rejecting monarchy and inherited privilege in favor of citizenship and self-government. While acknowledging the founders’ profound failures, including slavery and restrictions on voting rights, he argued that the Constitution and Bill of Rights established a framework through which future generations could expand freedom and inclusion.
Through centuries of activism, protest, civic engagement and moral advocacy, Americans from diverse backgrounds worked to make the nation’s democratic ideals more inclusive, extending the promise of “We the People” to all citizens.
Last month, Princeton University professor and historian Eddie Glaude Jr. released America, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries. In recent weeks, he has discussed the book in several media appearances, including an interview with PBS NewsHour anchor Geoff Bennett.
Glaude opens the book with the statement, “I do not love America,” a deliberate challenge to conventional notions of patriotism. He argues that the phrase rejects the tendency to treat the nation as an object of unquestioned devotion, distinguishes his perspective from that of writer James Baldwin and reflects the personal wounds caused by racism.
Glaude recounts a childhood experience in Mississippi in which a neighbor’s father used a racial slur against him, an event that revealed how society viewed him while his family simultaneously affirmed his dignity and worth. Given such experiences, he questions why Black Americans should be expected to express unconditional love for the country.
When asked whether criticism can be an act of patriotism, Glaude said he seeks to move beyond idealized narratives and focus instead on loving people rather than abstract national symbols. He contends that appeals to patriotism often obscure difficult truths about the nation’s history.
A central theme of the book is what Glaude calls America’s “double consciousness.” Drawing on W.E.B. Du Bois’ concept describing the divided experience of Black Americans, Glaude argues that the deeper contradiction lies within the nation itself. America simultaneously imagines itself as a champion of freedom and as a society historically shaped by white supremacy. According to Glaude, this unresolved conflict has existed since the nation’s founding and continues to drive recurring political and social struggles.
He points to parallels between the 1920s and the present day, noting that the era often celebrated as the Roaring Twenties was also marked by the political influence of the Ku Klux Klan and restrictive immigration policies. Glaude argues that contemporary debates over immigration, voting rights and national identity echo many of those earlier tensions.
“So Du Bois, in 1903, wrote ‘The Souls of Black Folk,’ and he says that Black people see themselves through the eyes of those who despise them. We are American and African, and it is in this doubleness that we experience the world,” Glaude said. “I think the double consciousness Du Bois describes is actually a consequence of the double consciousness of the nation. America imagines itself as a beacon of freedom and as a white republic, and you can’t hold those two commitments together without contradiction. That contradiction has existed since the founding, and it continues to shape the cycles we navigate today.”
Discussing immigration and voting rights, Glaude pointed to two transformative laws of the mid-20th century: the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.
“The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 overturned the Immigration Act of 1924, which established national quotas and reflected the influence of nativist politics of the era,” Glaude said. “In 1926, during the nation’s 150th anniversary celebration, the Ku Klux Klan held its annual convention in conjunction with festivities marking the anniversary.”
When asked what Americans should do to address these challenges, Glaude resisted offering a simple policy prescription. He argued that the nation often follows a predictable cycle in which expressions of sympathy after racial injustice are followed by symbolic gestures rather than structural change and demands for justice are eventually met with backlash.
Invoking Frederick Douglass’ distinction between charity and justice, Glaude maintains that meaningful progress requires confronting a fundamental choice. The nation, he argues, cannot simultaneously claim to be both a beacon of freedom and a racially exclusive republic. Americans must decide which vision will define the country’s future.