The Unfinished American Story — 5

Grievances, Protest, and the Responsibilities of Free Citizens

As my grandmother and I continued reading the Declaration, we eventually reached its longest section.

Many readers hurry through it. It is, after all, a long list of grievances against King George III.

As a boy, I remember wondering why Jefferson devoted so much space to what seemed like a catalog of complaints.

My grandmother smiled.

“Do you think he’s simply complaining?” she asked. I wasn’t sure. She encouraged me to read more carefully.

The more we read, the more I began to understand that Jefferson was doing something much larger. He was building a case.

The Declaration is not an emotional outburst. It is a carefully reasoned argument.

Jefferson wanted the world to understand that the colonies had not rushed toward independence. They had endured. They had petitioned. They had appealed to justice. Only after repeated grievances had gone unanswered did they conclude that independence had become necessary.

My grandmother pointed out something I had overlooked. “Notice,” she said, “that Jefferson isn’t asking us to admire complaints. “He is asking us to examine them.”

That observation has stayed with me ever since.

Democracy has always depended upon citizens who are willing to examine grievances honestly. Some grievances are well founded. Some are not.

The responsibility of free citizens is not simply to choose sides. It is to think carefully enough to know the difference.

As I have reflected on those conversations over the years, I have come to believe that every generation develops its own list of grievances. The circumstances change. The people change. The issues change. Yet citizens continue to ask many of the same questions.

Is government protecting the rights it exists to secure?

Is it acting for the common good?

Is it remaining accountable to the people from whom it derives its authority?

Those are not eighteenth-century questions. They belong to every generation.

My grandmother also taught me something equally important.

Expressing grievances is only the beginning of citizenship. It is never enough simply to object.

A healthy democracy is more than a catalog of complaints. It is a continuing contest of ideas. If we believe a policy is unjust, we should also ask what a more just policy would look like.

If we believe government has chosen the wrong path, we should be prepared to propose a better one.

Constructive citizenship requires both criticism and creativity. Our Republic depends upon both.

That is one reason peaceful civic engagement matters so deeply.

Throughout our history, Americans have gathered in town meetings, churches, union halls, schools, parks, public squares, and on courthouse steps to express concerns, advocate reforms, and persuade their fellow citizens. Those conversations have not always been comfortable, but they have been essential to the health of a free society.

Our responsibility is not merely to speak. It is to persuade. Not merely to protest. It is to help build a better path forward.

Near the end of the Declaration, my grandmother asked me to slow down once again. “Listen carefully,” she said.

Together we read:

“We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled... do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare...”

She asked another question. “Who is declaring independence?”

At first, the answer seemed obvious.

“The representatives,” I replied.

She nodded. “But whose authority are they exercising?”

We read the sentence again.

“In the Name, and by Authority of the good People...”

Once again, the Declaration returned to the same foundational principle. Legitimate authority begins with the people.

Representatives exercise that authority. They do not own it.

Finally, we reached the closing words of the Declaration.

“And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

My grandmother closed the document. “What are they really pledging?” she asked.

As a boy, I thought they were pledging loyalty to one another.

She smiled. “Yes,” she said, “but even more than that.” “They’re pledging themselves to an idea.” An unfinished idea. The idea that free people could govern themselves. The idea that rights belong to people before governments. The idea that government exists to secure those rights. The idea that citizenship carries responsibilities as well as privileges.

Then she became quiet. After a long moment, she asked one final question.

“Do you think we are as united in protecting those ideas today as they were in pledging themselves to them?”

She never answered that question for me. She wanted me to keep thinking about it. I have.

Now I leave that same question with you.

Not so that we may judge one another.

But so that we may ask ourselves what each of us can do to strengthen the civic bonds that allow a free people—with many different backgrounds, beliefs, and opinions—to remain one people, committed to the unfinished work of forming a more perfect Union.

We have more of our founding documents to examine together. Before we move on, however, I invite you to pause and think carefully about the first lesson we have discovered by reading the Declaration of Independence slowly and closely.

The Declaration did more than announce a separation from Great Britain. It expressed an idea about where rights come from, why governments exist, and where legitimate political authority ultimately rests. It also demonstrated that grievances must be examined, explained, and supported by reason—and that those seeking change must be prepared not merely to object, but to offer a better path.

So let me leave you with one final question before we open the Constitution together:

What does the Declaration of Independence ask of a people who claim the right to govern themselves?

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