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Celebrate America's Birthday on a Battlefield

Celebrate America's Birthday on a Battlefield

Prof. Allen Guelzo notes that, prior to the 18th-century Enlightenment, power and authority flowed down and obligation upward ('Have You Noticed It's America's 250th Birthday?' op-ed, April 19). Yet long before the Enlightenment, an important speedbump emerged in that power highway. In 1215 noblemen of England petitioned King John to limit the downward flow of power as ratified in the Magna Carta. Thus London and other cities, boroughs, towns and ports were to retain all 'ancient liberties and . . . free customs, as well by land as by water.' Free men wouldn't be 'amerced for a small offence, but only according to the degree of the offence.'
Our freedoms are preceded by a long and arduous evolution. Part of Mr. Guelzo's middle way to avoid wallowing in self-flagellation for humanity's hypocrisy should be the ability to appreciate this ancient journey. We aren't worse for having sinned; we're better for our continued history in aspiring to avoid doing so again.
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Why American Revolutionaries Fought to Protect Habeas Corpus
Why American Revolutionaries Fought to Protect Habeas Corpus

Time​ Magazine

time09-07-2025

  • Time​ Magazine

Why American Revolutionaries Fought to Protect Habeas Corpus

The United States has recently witnessed challenges to the right to due process and a fair trial, including a recent explicit threat to habeas corpus by White House official Stephen Miller, and the actual deportation and imprisonment of people like Kilmar Abrego Garcia far from home. American revolutionaries feared such threats. Among the grievances they laid at the feet of British King George III in the Declaration of Independence was that he was 'transporting' American colonists 'beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences.' The founders believed that government suspension of habeas corpus was antithetical to the basic rights long enshrined in cherished documents like the Magna Carta. In 1776, these fears came to fruition in the case of American Patriot Ebenezer Smith Platt, a man who was a transatlantic celebrity in his own time but who is little remembered today. Transported across the seas and imprisoned far from home, Platt had his right to habeas corpus—and his freedom—curtailed by what many viewed as the actions of a tyrannical king. His story became a political lightning rod. Today, Platt is a reminder of the fact that habeas corpus has long been seen as the bedrock of rights to due process under the law. Even British government officials who opposed American independence warned that suspending Platt's right to habeas corpus posed a danger to everyone. When Platt eventually gained his freedom, it was due in no small part to public pressure from such elected officials combined with the efforts of well-connected friends and constant press coverage. Read More: What Is Habeas Corpus and How Is It Under Threat By the Trump Administration? About a year before the Declaration of Independence, Platt relocated from New York to Georgia where he became active in Patriot politics. In 1775, Platt was among a group of Georgia and South Carolina Patriots who used an armed American privateer ship to seize the cargo of a British merchant ship—mostly gunpowder, arms, and bullets—on behalf of the Patriot-run Provincial Congress of Georgia. A few months later, Platt was on another mission for Georgia. This time, he sailed for the French island colony of Saint-Domingue (present day Haiti) to trade for arms and ammunition for Patriot military forces. But his ship was seized by the British and taken to Jamaica. There, Platt encountered Richard Maitland, captain of the British merchant ship whose cargo he had helped seize off the coast of Georgia. When Maitland identified Platt, British Vice Admiral Clark Gayton seized Platt's ship, its crew, and Platt, placing him in chains to await trial. The Jamaican court set Platt free, finding that he could not be tried there when the alleged crime occurred in Georgia, but suggested that Gayton might send Platt on a naval ship for trial in England. Gayton seized Platt again and set sail from Jamaica, keeping him in shackles for months aboard his ship before transferring him to another Royal Navy frigate, which transferred him to a third naval ship headed to England. After months at sea, Platt reached Portsmouth, England, around the time Britons learned the news of the Declaration of Independence. Instead of being sent ashore, Platt was transferred three times from royal naval ship to royal naval ship in the harbor. The transfers were deliberate attempts to avoid due process. If Platt could not be located, attorneys could not serve his imprisoners a writ of habeas corpus on his behalf, and he could be imprisoned indefinitely. After eight months imprisoned in shackles aboard six different ships, Platt managed to connect with a sympathetic attorney who asserted his right to habeas corpus and forced his release for trial. Platt finally made it ashore in England. But his timing could not have been worse. Platt happened to set foot on English soil just before Parliament passed the Habeas Corpus Act, or Treason Act, of 1777. This legislation empowered British authorities to arrest and imprison people 'charged with, or Suspected of, the Crime of Treason, committed in any of His Majesty's Colonies or Plantations in America,' or 'Acts of Treason or Piracy' on the high seas. Platt fit these criteria. He became one of the first, and best publicized, of what would eventually be hundreds of American prisoners in Britain who would be denied both the rights of habeas corpus and the legal status of prisoners of war. Allowed neither a fair trial nor military prisoner exchange, they would be imprisoned 'at the king's pleasure.' For most of these prisoners, this meant remaining imprisoned until a 1782 Act of Parliament changed their official status. It is hard to overstate how treasured the right to habeas corpus was in British law by the revolutionary era. It predated the Magna Carta, though it was also enshrined within it. It was the cornerstone of the due process that entitled every person to have their arrest proven lawful; the process that protected people from unjust and indefinite imprisonment. Numerous treason acts had been passed over hundreds of years of English history, but in previous acts, those accused of treason had the right to habeas corpus. The Treason Act of 1777 not only suspended habeas corpus for those accused under the act, it upended hundreds of years of British legal precedence. On both sides of the Atlantic, people worried about the new precedent for tyranny set by the Act and Platt's imprisonment. British Member of Parliament Edmund Burke declared that the Act 'has this distinguished evil in it, that it is the first partial suspension of the Habeas Corpus which has been made.' British MP John Wilkes, who did not share Burke's politics, agreed. Like Burke, Wilkes asked whether a government 'capable of thus trampling on our most sacred laws' can 'be too narrowly watched, too deeply suspected, too strongly guarded against?' Suspending habeas corpus for one group of people threatened tyranny for all. Read More: Read Conservative Judge's Full Opinion Rebuking Trump Administration Over Abrego Garcia Case Platt went on to spend 14 months imprisoned in London's infamous Newgate Prison, living in a state of destitution, depending on charity for food and basic necessities. Chief among his benefactors was American wax sculptor and undercover spy, Patience Wright who lived and worked in London. Wright launched a campaign on Platt's behalf urging influential people like Benjamin Franklin to help him. Even with all his diplomatic ties, Franklin was powerless to assist Platt because of the Treason Act's suspension of habeas corpus. Newspaper editors and pamphleteers circulated stories about the horrible conditions in the British prisons holding thousands of Americans. They detailed how starving prisoners resorted to eating anything from snails to grass to the marrow in old bones. British as well as American voices raised against mistreatment of American prisoners grew louder throughout 1777. The media storm and outraged public response played an important role in securing Platt's release from Newgate in March of 1778. Upon gaining his freedom, he married Patience Wright's daughter and traveled to France, where Franklin helped arrange passage for the couple to cross the Atlantic to the United States. Once there, Ebenezer enlisted to fight for the Patriots, taking up arms against the king that he and many of his contemporaries viewed as tyrannical, not least for transporting Americans to overseas prisons and suspending habeas corpus. Although he was a Patriot, Platt was no hero. He was an enslaver, a bigamist (he later married a second wife without divorcing his first), and a bit of a grifter (he died owing Daniel Boone a great deal of money). But the right to habeas corpus did not depend upon good behavior or an admirable character then, nor should it now. The once-famous case of Ebenezer Smith Platt reminds us that widespread attention to acts of tyranny that violate foundational rights is critical to maintaining those rights. Such attention, among the press, among concerned private citizens, and among elected representatives of the people, helped free Pratt. Careful attention to questions of habeas corpus today may inspire similar outrage and action in defense of our most cherished rights. Zara Anishanslin is a historian at the University of Delaware. Her latest book The Painter's Fire: A Forgotten History of the Artists Who Championed the American Revolution comes out July 1, 2025. Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors.

The unwinnable war America's Founding Fathers fought and won changed human history forever
The unwinnable war America's Founding Fathers fought and won changed human history forever

Fox News

time06-07-2025

  • Fox News

The unwinnable war America's Founding Fathers fought and won changed human history forever

Two hundred and forty-nine years ago, 56 men met in the Pennsylvania State House in Philadelphia to commit treason against the most powerful empire on Earth. Representing 13 colonies of that empire, these men – a mix of landowners, entrepreneurs, politicians and others – had become enamored with a new set of ideas flowing from enlightenment thinkers and Christian teaching. Those convictions led them to start a war no sane person believed they could win. Remember what government looked like back then. We now live in the world those 56 men created – a world in which even dictatorships like North Korea cloak themselves in the language of "republic." But in 1776, freedom, equality and self-governance were nascent concepts espoused by philosophers and adopted only incompletely in a few small enclaves. The vast majority of countries in the world were hereditary monarchies and empires under which equal rights and individual liberty were not contemplated. The Founders' fight seemed incomprehensible. In launching it, the Second Continental Congress largely tasked one man – Thomas Jefferson – with drafting the document that would articulate their vision for humanity and this new country and reshape history. Imagine how he must have felt. Jefferson secluded himself from June 11 to June 28 in a rented home on Market Street to draft the document. He was 33 years old at the time. In isolation in that rented townhome he drafted what I think is one of the most beautiful passages in 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. Read it again. Read it as if you were living under a Spanish colony in South America or under the iron fist of the Qing dynasty in China. Read it as if you were a poor tenant farmer under the oppressive rule of King George in Virginia or an enslaved person in Georgia (whose freedom under the principles of the Declaration was still decades away). Read it as if you grew up in a system that assumed you were worth less than your neighbor by virtue of your social station, and under which your future was limited by the circumstances of your birth. The Declaration was, in fact, a "revolutionary" statement articulating the ideological and factual basis for a coup against empire. But spiritually, it was more important than that. It was a revolution against history. It was a revolution against the idea that some men (and women) are worth more than others. It was a revolution for the idea of dignity, human rights, and equality before law. And when Jefferson submitted his document to the Congress, and those 56 men signed it and shipped it off to King George and to others rulers around the world, they ignited a war in the America colonies that would become a centuries-long war to transform the globe from tyranny to liberty. War they got. Five of the signers were captured, tortured and killed. Nine died from wounds or hardships fighting in the war. All were impacted – raked by violence, their homes and property ravaged, their children thrust into the violence they created. They starved. They lost battles. They must have wondered if it was worth it – these ideals that had caused them to plunge a nation into violence. And then, unexpectedly, they won. In creating America, those Founding Fathers reshaped history. We now live in a world in which nearly half of countries are democracies. The combination of political freedom, free markets and the technological innovation unleashed by those systems has lifted billions of people out of poverty – creating a world more than 100 times richer than the one that existed at the time of the Declaration of Independence. The dominant ideology now globally is the one articulated in the Declaration. And the revolution in America has become a revolution in human history. This weekend in the United States we celebrate Independence Day. We celebrate 56 men who risked everything. But we also solemnly reflect on the charge of the Declaration and its authors. All people are created equal. We are all endowed by our Creator with inalienable rights. Each of us deserves life, liberty, and the ability to pursue our own unique paths to flourishing. But those inalienable rights are not guaranteed. As our forebears, we are called to embrace and fight for them. Abraham Lincoln once noted that great men "thirst and burn for distinction" and will have it, "whether at the expense of emancipating slaves, or enslaving free men." And around the world the powers that oppose liberty, dignity and opportunity fight ceaselessly to dominate others. May we, on this Independence Day, fight back. May we have the audacity and conviction to oppose the enemies of liberty and to continue to fight for the promise of the Declaration and America's spiritual foundation. May we do so out of love – for our neighbors and for the blessings of the Creator. And may we gain courage from the example of those 56 men, their hundreds of thousands of compatriots, and the unwinnable war they won. Happy Independence Day.

To prepare for America's 250th, go back and read the Declaration of Independence
To prepare for America's 250th, go back and read the Declaration of Independence

The Hill

time04-07-2025

  • The Hill

To prepare for America's 250th, go back and read the Declaration of Independence

In April we celebrated the 250th anniversary of the 'shot heard round the world.' It served as a wake-up call, if a faint one, for preparations for our nation's 250th birthday on Jul. 4, 2026. Most of us surely sense that forgetfulness is not our main problem when it comes to celebrating this milestone. Rather there is a deep ambivalence about how to think about our country — and our obligations as we approach this landmark year. Where does this ambivalence come from? Historian Allen Guelzo chalks it up to 'the polarization and cynicism of these times' which is surely true. Both left and right play their part in this as Guelzo notes. But the anniversary presents a special challenge for the left. As historian Beverly Gage has noted, for progressives 'rejecting traditional patriotism has become de rigeur: By kneeling for the national anthem, dismissing the Founders as enslavers, and expressing unease at the prospect of flying an American flag.' Even for those on the left who are more comfortable with flag-flying, they prefer to think of American patriotism as a question—'a conversation about what, if anything, makes America great,' as Gage would put it. This contrasts sharply with President Trump's recent executive order on patriotic education. No ambivalence there — patriotic education includes 'the concept that celebration of America's greatness and history is proper.' A question mark is thus met with an exclamation point. And yet both perspectives on America are required if we are to foster greater unity and shared purpose among Americans across the political spectrum in the upcoming year. The path will not be an easy one. James Davison Hunter's recent book 'Democracy and Solidarity' helps us understand how deep our polarization goes. Whereas we used to be able to draw on what he calls 'America's hybrid Enlightenment,' which married principles of the secular Enlightenment with elements of traditional Protestant Christian faith, to provide boundaries within which we could work through our political disagreements, this framework no longer holds. The result is a power struggle between rival visions of the meaning of America that often leads to political and civic dysfunction. Even our nation's founding principles become controversial in this tug-of-war. 'Concepts such as justice, fairness, freedom, rights, equality, equity, tolerance, inclusion, hate, and the like,' Hunter writes, 'are themselves contested and manipulable, because they too are lifted out of the context of larger conceptual frameworks or traditions from which those concepts derive their significance.' Divorced from the text of the Declaration and our 250-year-long conversation about its meaning, 'life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness' becomes yet one more tool to be used against one's opponents. In such an environment teachers understandably feel uncomfortable teaching patriotism as a recent survey shows. When it comes to goals and values that U.S. history teachers rate as important or very important only 50 percent include 'instilling civic pride in the nation.' Only 39 percent rate as important 'cultivating an appreciation of the United States as an exceptional nation.' President of Monticello Jane Kamensky distilled the uneasiness well when she noted on a panel at Jack Miller Center's National Summit on Civic Education last year: 'That's why civics left the classroom in the 1960s, it was that patriotism seemed too close to religion, and as religion was evacuating the classroom, patriotism went with it.' Notions of civil religion and American exceptionalism make it easy for patriotism to seem right-coded. And yet many on the left are increasingly recognizing the importance of patriotic civic education, even if the particulars are somewhat different from Trump administration guidelines. There is Professor Gage's game provocation to progressives — 'why not wear the [tricorn] hat and fly the flag?' More concretely, a recent report by the Progressive Policy Institute urges schools to 'teach what is distinctive and exceptional about America' and supports community service programs that 'can instill in young people a sense of purpose and patriotism.' The Educating for American Democracy project, which is cross-partisan but includes many on the left, contends that 'a healthy constitutional democracy always demands reflective patriotism.' There is a will there, so what is the way? What can Americans of good will from left and right do for the coming anniversary? They can turn to the text of the Declaration. As Danielle Allen has written, 'There are no silver bullets for the problem of civility in our political life. There are no panaceas for educational reform. But if I were to pretend to offer either, it would be this: All adults should read the Declaration closely; all students should have read the Declaration from start to finish before they leave high school.' Or as Steven Smith, political scientist at Yale University, puts it: 'In our current environment, as always, the best teachers are old books. Patriotism can be taught only through a long and deep engagement with the founding texts of our political tradition.' As we prepare to celebrate 250 years of America next year, let's follow their advice. Let's let those words that changed the world change us. Let's read them slowly and carefully, discuss them with others, seek guidance from those who know and, having reflected on those words, see our reflection in our fellow Americans. Thomas Kelly is the vice president of academic programs at the Jack Miller Center for Teaching America's Founding Principles and History.

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