In May of 1775, fifty-six men gathered in a small, dimly lit room—not to declare independence, but to seek peace. They wanted a way to preserve their rights while remaining loyal to the Crown. Yet over the next thirteen and a half months, as their appeals were met with silence and contempt, something became undeniably clear: there was no path forward. They’d reached an impasse. And so, in June of 1776, with no other option, they chose to act. They dared to defy the world’s greatest empire, and in doing so, they penned words that they would later make their official declaration and which would and will resonate through history:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”
Today, let those words sink in. Let them remind us of what’s at stake. They weren’t just protesting a tax on tea; they were defending something far bigger: the belief that government should serve the people, not rule over them. And now, centuries later, that same question of freedom and self-determination stands before us.
Donald Trump has been reelected. And his followers talk openly of placing him above the law, of loyalty not to a set of principles, but to him personally—as though we’ve traded in the title of “President” for “King.” And it’s clear we’re not just at a crossroads; we’re teetering on the edge of something darker, something that threatens the freedoms that people before us fought, bled, and died to protect. Our grievances grow. The values of life, liberty, and happiness, the very foundations of our democracy, are being tested. And, like those fifty-six men, we find ourselves faced with a choice: to accept the erosion of those rights or to stand up and defend them.
History has shown us, time and again, that when a government no longer serves the people, it’s not only our right to challenge it; it’s our duty. Those fifty-six men who signed that declaration weren’t heroes looking for glory. They were ordinary people, representing a divided populace—a third who wanted independence, a third who stayed loyal to the Crown, and a third who didn’t care either way. And yet, they knew that principles, not popularity, had to guide their actions. They didn’t choose to act because it was easy or because they knew they would win. They acted because it was right.
Donald Trump needs to hear this: power without principles isn’t leadership. It’s tyranny. And if he insists on leading with the intent to reshape America into an authoritarian state, he may find there is no country left to rule.
Margaret Mead said it well: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” We’re not talking about dissolution. We’re talking about defending what’s essential, what we inherited from those who came before us, those who took the risk of challenging a king.
So, we watch. And we wait. But know this: if it comes to it, we will choose those founding ideals over submission. And we’ll remember that freedom wasn’t handed to us; it was fought for. And if we must, we’ll fight for it again—whether under the flag we now salute or under a new one, forged in the lessons of our past and a vision for a future that serves the values we hold dear.
