The Unsettled Foundation: Re-examining the American Origin Story at 250

As the United States approaches the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the nation finds itself locked in a fierce battle over the architecture of its own memory. The upcoming "Freedom 250" initiative, spearheaded by the Trump administration, aims to frame the nation’s founding through a lens of unalloyed patriotism. The agenda includes the creation of a "National Garden of American Heroes" and populist spectacles, such as a planned UFC match on the White House lawn.

However, beneath the veneer of celebratory pageantry lies a profound cultural fracture. Critics of the administration argue that this iteration of "patriotism" is a calculated effort to whitewash the historical record, framing it as an essential component of an authoritarian political playbook. Yet, for many Indigenous observers, both sides of this polarized debate suffer from a common, structural blindness: the persistent exclusion of Native history. As the nation grapples with the question of which story to tell, it becomes increasingly clear that the "Native part" of the American story is not merely a footnote—it is the lens through which our current political crisis becomes legible.

The Grievance Against the "Merciless Indian Savages"

When students study the Declaration of Independence, they are almost exclusively directed to the soaring rhetoric of the preamble—the "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" passage. But to understand the true motivations of the Founding Fathers, one must look at the document’s functional purpose: it was a propaganda piece, a list of grievances designed to foment rebellion against the British Crown.

While many historians categorize these grievances as a list of escalating affronts, the final and most inflammatory charge against King George III is frequently downplayed in modern civic education. The Declaration explicitly accuses the King of having "excited… the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions."

By enshrining this characterization in the foundational text of the United States, the founders did more than express a political difference of opinion; they codified a deep-seated existential animosity toward Indigenous people. This prompts a necessary, if uncomfortable, inquiry: Why was the primary catalyst for the Revolution, in the eyes of the founders, the presence and agency of Native nations?

Chronology of a Land-Hungry Rebellion

The conventional narrative suggests that the American Revolution was a noble struggle for taxation and representation. However, a closer examination of the timeline reveals that the conflict was driven as much by the struggle for territory as it was by legal philosophy.

• 1763: The Proclamation Line: Following the conclusion of the Seven Years’ War and the Indigenous uprising known as Pontiac’s Rebellion, the British Crown faced a depleted treasury and the prospect of endless frontier warfare. In an effort to stabilize the colonies, King George III issued the Proclamation of 1763, which strictly forbade colonial settlement west of the Appalachian Mountains, reserving those lands for Indigenous nations.
• 1763–1775: The Prelude to War: For the colonial elite, this restriction was an economic death sentence. Men like George Washington, who had built their fortunes on land speculation, found their ambitions tethered by British policy. This frustration trickled down to the lower classes, who relied on squatting on Indigenous land to survive.
• The Pre-Boston Massacre Clashes: History books often focus on the Boston Massacre of 1770 as the spark of the Revolution. However, in the backcountry, colonists were already engaged in active combat against British troops who were attempting to facilitate peaceful trade with Indigenous leaders. These early skirmishes over Native land were, in many ways, the true opening salvos of the Revolutionary War.

The Myth of the "Empire of Liberty"

The most enduring paradox of the American founding is the simultaneous birth of democratic ideals and imperial ambition. The founders were not merely building a republic; they were constructing an "empire of liberty"—a phrase that captures the inherent contradiction of a nation that governed through constitutional norms at home while practicing tyrannical expansionism abroad.

This dual governance structure—democratic for the settler, imperial for the Indigenous—did not vanish with the frontier. It evolved. The legal precedents established during the colonial era to justify the seizure of Native land provided a blueprint for the modern expansion of executive power.

Implications for Contemporary Governance

The legacy of this "empire of liberty" is visible in the contemporary American state, particularly in how the presidency interacts with the rule of law. When modern political figures contemplate the use of the National Guard against domestic populations, the detention of migrants, or the deployment of military force without congressional authorization, they are operating within a legal tradition that was first tested on Native bodies and territories.

Furthermore, the legal debates surrounding birthright citizenship under the 14th Amendment often ignore the fact that the Amendment was originally interpreted to exclude Native people. By using this historical exclusion to argue for a restricted definition of citizenship today, modern legal strategists are effectively reaching back to the 18th-century "savage" narrative to justify the erosion of democratic inclusion.

Official Responses and the Burden of History

The "Freedom 250" platform represents a strategic attempt to reclaim a singular, cohesive national narrative. Proponents argue that a nation requires a shared mythology to maintain social cohesion. By focusing on "heroism" and "national pride," the administration aims to insulate the American story from the critiques of systemic inequality.

However, historians like Ned Blackhawk (Western Shoshone) argue that this strategy is self-defeating. "If we don’t understand the full context in which our nation was founded, we won’t understand the full context in which our nation now finds itself," Blackhawk notes. The exclusion of Indigenous history is not just a moral oversight; it is an analytical one. It renders the modern American political landscape—characterized by extreme partisanship, debates over the scope of executive authority, and questions of who truly belongs—incomprehensible.

Conclusion: Reclaiming the Full Story

The American origin story is not just a story of democracy; it is a story of conquest. As we approach the 250th anniversary, the challenge is not to choose between these two stories, but to recognize that they are inextricably linked.

For many Native people, this anniversary is not a celebration of the founding, but a moment to bear witness to the unfinished nature of the American experiment. By failing to integrate Indigenous history into the broader national narrative, the United States remains trapped in a cycle of its own making. To move forward, the nation must confront the fact that its greatest ideals—liberty and equality—were forged in a crucible of land-based conflict and racialized exclusion. Only by acknowledging the full scope of our origin story can we begin to address the tensions that continue to pull at the fabric of the country today. The history of the United States is incomplete, and as long as the Indigenous experience is treated as a distant, tragic chapter rather than the foundational element it is, the nation will remain, in many ways, an unsettled land.