by David Jones
“What, to Us, Is the Fourth of July?”
We are in the midst of national celebrations marking the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States of America. It seems ironic to even speak of us as a united entity. Such language forces us to unpack the original necessity of whatever unity the thirteen colonies managed to subscribe to in order to become the nation we inhabit a quarter of a millennia later. They were certainly united in their desire to throw off the economic shackles that being a colony of Great Britain placed upon them. But economic bondage is often symptomatic of a deeper, more organic bondage; namely, the lack of self-determination and identity.
America in the mid-eighteenth century was a nation of farmers, plantation owners, peasants, and slaves. Consider this observation from Peter Kalm, a Swedish traveler in New Jersey in 1748: “It does not seem difficult to find out the reasons why the people multiply faster here than in Europe. As soon as a person is old enough, he may marry in these provinces without any fear of poverty. There is such an amount of good land yet uncultivated that a newly married man can, without difficulty, get a spot of ground where he may comfortably subsist with his wife and children. The taxes are very low, and he need not be under any concern on their account. The liberties he enjoys are so great that he considers himself as a prince in his possessions.”
It should be noted that this analysis fails to consider the reality of life as experienced by enslaved Africans. Indeed, to acknowledge their plight would be a violation of the very social fabric of America. The existential dilemma of the sons and daughters of Africa was of no consequence, especially in light of the observed freedom from poverty that was available to even the lowest white colonist.
The American colonies were also home to some of the most brilliant sons of the Enlightenment. Jefferson, Madison, and Franklin, for all their flaws, were able architects and ambassadors for this new democratic experiment. Their words and concepts still echo across the centuries, still powerful even as history has revealed their inconsistencies of character, traits that we all share.
It is fitting to note that regarding the British Atlantic colonies from 1690 to 1763 the theme was GROWTH. From 260,000 settlers in 1700, the colonial population grew eight times to 2,150,000 in 1770. In fact, the English colonial population doubled almost every 25 years in the 1700s. If the U.S. population had doubled since 1983, it would have been 468 million (not 300 million) in 2007. By way of comparison, at the time of independence, enslaved people were considered property and counted for political representation under the Three-Fifths Compromise, giving southern states disproportionate influence in the new federal government. The total U.S. slave population in 1776 is estimated at around 500,000–600,000, with the majority living in the South. This distribution set the stage for the regional economic and political divisions that would later intensify debates over slavery in the early United States.
The irony of our name – the United States – deepens when one considers the present lack of unity. At the heart of our dysfunctionality are those same themes of self-determination and identity. Matters of choice over our own bodies. Issues over who is an American. Violent policy decisions about who has a right to be here. Regressive views over who, how, and when we may participate in the democratic process, which is the most fundamental demarcation of identity and self-determination in a democratic republic.
Many have suggested that we are now at our most divided point since the Civil War. Many have suggested that they would actually favor a second Civil War. Such a war would prove far more destructive than the first one, since a Mason-Dixon line does not cleanly mark the geographic distribution of polarized perspectives. These ideologically stratified and politically polarized states would not survive such a conflagration. And as I’ve stated on previous occasions, I believe the extreme right’s obsession with the Second Amendment is precisely tied to their determination not to lose again.
With all that being said, perhaps it is appropriate to reconsider the words of Frederick Douglass. Douglass, a licensed AME Zion preacher, delivered his famous address, “What, to the Slave, Is the Fourth of July?” on July 5, 1852, just nine short years before the outbreak of civil war. Hear again his words:
“This, for the purpose of this celebration, is the Fourth of July. It is the birthday of your National Independence, and of your political freedom. This, to you, is what the Passover was to the emancipated people of God. It carries your minds back to the day, and to the act of your great deliverance; and to the signs, and to the wonders, associated with that act, and that day. This celebration also marks the beginning of another year of your national life; and reminds you that the republic of America is now seventy-six years old. I am glad, fellow-citizens, that your nation is so young. Seventy-six years, though a good old age for a man is but a mere speck in the life of a nation. Three score years and ten is the allotted time for individual men; but nations number their years by thousands.”
I find it revealing that Douglass addresses his audience as “fellow-citizens,” thus laying claim to his birthright as an American. But he also refers to America as “your nation.” It is as if Douglass is declaring that the present state of the republic is not yet such that he can embrace it as his own. It is as if he is reminding them that the current state of affairs is their fault and not his. And just as surely, the threat of the coming conflict loomed over them all.
As we approach America’s semi-quincentennial, I have to admit that I am ambivalent about what should be an event that we, as fellow-citizens, could all share in. But I’m just not feeling it. The “warm and fuzzies” have thus far eluded me. And don’t get me wrong. I love my country. It is the only country I have ever known. Everything I know and love and have experienced is here. If it came to that, I would die defending it. But like James Baldwin, my love for America compels me to constantly criticize it. Contrary to the protestations of those on the right, my criticism does not come from a hatred for America. My critiques and criticisms are based in a deep commitment to our national professions of justice and equality. I want to believe – I have to believe – that America really can be that shining city on a hill, that Beloved Community, that last, best hope for freedom and democracy. As Dr. Martin Luther King observed, there can be no disappointment where there is not also great love.
I do not believe Donald Trump is a Hitler, but the German people in the 1930s did not believe that Hitler would be the icon of evil that he became. I believe the potential for enormous harm is there. I believe that tremendous harm has already been done. I personally think that being elected president was the worst thing that could have happened to the man, Donald Trump. His previous life reveals a tremendously flawed, immoral, exploitative, and hedonistic individual. Becoming president allowed him to magnify his very worst tendencies to the nth degree. His life had taught him that he was never responsible, nor accountable for his actions. This fact was only magnified by the Supreme Court decision on July 1, 2024, in the Trump v. United States ruling that gave virtual immunity for anything the President does in his official capacity. With this decision, the Supreme Court codified criminality in the executive branch.
And let us make no mistake; Trump is not fully responsible for everything that has happened that unravels the fabric of democracy and decency in this country. His enablers who refuse to correct or check him are guilty. Mitch McConnell is guilty. Newt Gingrich is guilty. Congress is guilty. And unelected figures, like the architects of Project 2025 in the Heritage Foundation are guilty. And, though it pains me to say it, the church is guilty. Conservative white American Christianity that has morphed into the Christian Nationalist movement that values white identity and white cultural hegemony above the teachings of Jesus Christ is guilty. And this pains me even more, but the Black church is guilty. Too often we have abdicated our responsibility to advocate for justice. Too often we have allowed our own misogyny to fail to encourage our people to vote for the candidate who will best represent us, regardless of gender.
But there is hope. Frederick Douglass believed this when he said in that famous address, “There is hope in the thought, and hope is much needed, under the dark clouds which lower above the horizon.” Like Douglass, I do not ignore the reality of the clouds, but I cling to hope. Like Martin Luther King in his Letter From Birmingham City Jail, who, after expressing his bitter disappointment in white moderate Christianity’s failure to address the intractable issue of racism, wrote, “I hope the church will meet the challenge of this decisive hour. But even if the church does not come to the aid of justice, I have no despair about the future. I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are presently misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom.”
I am not as optimistic as Dr. King regarding the goal of America, but neither am I given over to utter despair. My faith in God and my belief in Christ as a Liberator will not let me acquiesce to the prevailing distress. I may not be able to celebrate with flags, fireworks, and overtly patriotic displays. I refuse to reduce my patriotism or my faith to silk-screened slogans or bumper stickers or redacted history. Like that Hebrew tender of Sycamore trees whom God called to speak on his behalf, I offer these words:
“I hate, I despise your religious festivals;
your assemblies are a stench to me.
Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them.
Though you bring choice fellowship offerings,
I will have no regard for them.
Away with the noise of your songs!
I will not listen to the music of your harps.
But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (Amos 5:21-24)
It was not the assemblies or the celebrations that God despised; it was the hypocrisy with which they were celebrated. If we can finally live up to our lofty pronouncements, perhaps next year I will be able to eat my barbecue ribs with a clear conscience. But until then, the Fourth of July will remain a reminder that we have fallen far short of our ideals. We have coopted God and religion in the service of avarice and greed. Yes, we have done much good in the world, but we cannot continue to let doing right serve only to soothe our collective conscience regarding our great wrongs, especially as they apply to our own citizens. Maybe then, when we have liberated ourselves from the bonds of our racial, cultural, and religious silos, we will have a different answer to the question, “What, to us, is the Fourth of July?”
