Flora Roy is a former intern at Made By Us and the Smithsonian and Emerson Collective’s Leadership for Change program. Originally from Berlin, she is a rising junior at the George Washington University majoring in Geography and Political Science.
As a French German, national days were never a prominent part of my cultural upbringing. Back home, the only time you’ll see a German flag on someone’s house is during a World Cup summer. Celebrating our national heritage, particularly with the vibrancy Americans do, is simply not part of our cultural fabric. Germany’s historical association with the Nazi regime has shaped a more reserved approach to expressing national identity compared to the overt displays of patriotism often seen in the United States. During my first week in the U.S., I went to a hockey game and my hat was snatched off my head by my neighbor when I didn’t have the cognizance to do so during the national anthem. While seemingly ever-present in the American psyche, displays of American patriotism explode around July 4th, very much like the dazzling fireworks that accompany these displays. It took me a while to understand why.
Of course, I understood the connection between July 4th and America’s founding. Everyone knows the textbook story in which the thirteen colonies removed themselves from British control:
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.
We fast forward, annual barbecues and pool parties all around. But, in reading Frederick Douglass’ “What, To the Slave, Is Fourth Of July”, I found a deeper significance behind the importance of the day that strays deeply from current themes of celebration. In an almost unnerving way, this to me encapsulated every reason to mute the superficial July 4th celebrations I often see in search of more reflective considerations. While the spectacle of fireworks or the joy of backyard grilling might evoke a sense of nostalgia or tradition, I couldn’t help but cast judgment through my own unlearned eyes on whether such festivities truly encouraged the necessary introspection and critical examination of America’s complex history.
May he not hope that high lessons of wisdom, of justice and of truth, will yet give direction to her destiny? Were the nation older, the patriot’s heart might be sadder, and the reformer’s brow heavier…There is consolation in the thought that America is young…Cling to this day—cling to it, and to its principles, with the grasp of a storm-tossed mariner to a spar at midnight.
On one hand, Frederick Douglass’ perspective is stained with angst and frustration, citing the shortcomings of America’s independence. And on the other hand, said angst is largely secondary to the jovial celebration in the modern American conscience. The historical enigma in this case cannot be ignored. Nor should it be. The 4th is a jointly celebratory and somber historical reference point.
While the 4th is overtly historical, other countries celebrate national holidays in a way that aligns with their contemporary narratives. Germany celebrates its unity to remember the strength of its diverse communities and emphasize the inequalities that remain. France’s national holiday commemorates the beginning of the French Revolution, which continues to shape the country’s societal discourse. Other nations commemorate their hard-won independence from colonial rule, a testament to their ongoing struggles against neocolonialism and the enduring challenges posed by external influences in a way that emphasizes the arduous historical path to present strengths, which paves the way for continued success in the future.
I failed to see how the U.S., a hegemon of such strength, needed to publicly bathe itself in toasts to its invincibility. With new data showing record low levels of patriotism and national pride among young Americans, maybe the fourth has lost its luster; becoming more akin to a generic, celebratory summer day.
Contemplating an alternative national holiday for the United States, such as Constitution Day or the day of the signing of the Civil Rights Act, raises the question of whether it would genuinely promote the kind of reflection raised by Frederick Douglass’ book on the fourth. Adjustments such as these would allow the continuance of genuine celebration balanced by a greater sense of meaningful appreciation. However, I began to imagine that Americans would most likely celebrate those days in the same way they celebrate July 4th. If we celebrated July 2nd as a national holiday to remember the signing of the Civil Rights Act for example, there would still be fireworks, hotdogs, and pool parties. Recently recognized as a federal holiday, even long-standing Juneteenth traditions have become more diluted through mainstream commemoration. Even Thanksgiving, built on a myth, is another excuse to enjoy a meal together with listless afterthoughts to the origin of said celebration. The significance of July 4th thus lies not in the specific historical event it commemorates, but in the broader themes of resilience, and the pursuit of the rights that it represents.
What makes July 4th remarkable is the collective spirit of joy and celebration that permeates American society on this day like no other. Americans seemingly relish being in a good mood, which is something they clearly do so well on July 4th. This day may now be about leisure and celebration but it’s also about remembering that rights, freedoms, or even present joy are hard-won and worth delighting in. The U.S.'s identity is not rooted in land, ethnicity, or religion but in ideals, making it crucial to have a day dedicated to exalting these ideals.
However, when Americans become aware that some of these ideals clash with reality, confronting the discrepancies becomes vital. How might a national holiday do that?
Although German and French holidays may not be celebrated with the same intensity as July 4th, a sense of national pride still exists. Surprisingly, studies have shown that both Germans and French exhibit a higher level of pride in their country compared to Americans, who are more likely to experience feelings of shame. On the other hand, France’s general inclination towards color-blindness and Laïcité allows it to conveniently evade discussions on neocolonialism or racial injustice. Until recently, Germany even prohibited dual citizenship for certain immigrants, painting German nationality as an exclusive identifier. Both German and French national pride remain conciliatory, hindering even the acknowledgment of wrongdoings.
Western Europeans often like to believe that systemic racism and related issues are exclusive to the United States, primarily attributing them to the country's history of slavery and segregation. They tend to overlook their own participation in this history of slavery and the fact that at a minimum the U.S. actively confronts these challenges. In fact, even its celebrations reflect this openness and dialogue. Culturally, July 4th serves as an opportunity for Americans to openly engage in conversations that might be avoided in other countries.
I personally admire that rather than imposing a single, uniform way of commemoration, this day encourages diverse conversations that contribute to the construction of a more inclusive and just society, both within the United States and beyond. It fosters a sense of ownership among Americans, suggesting that the celebration is not dictated by a predefined nationality, but rather a collective responsibility. These exchanges of ideas and discussions remain vibrant and relevant throughout the year, but the significance of the July 4th itself cannot be overstated.
When 4th of July rolls around yet again, my hope is that in between the splashes of poolside cannon balls, we all understand that celebratory relics such as this stem from an appreciation for America’s need to further set its sights on progress. American born or not, the case for the 4th is not in the celebration; it is in what it symbolizes.



















image of U.S. President Donald Trump is displayed on a digital billboard in Times Square in New York on April 8, 2026.
Trump is stuck between two realities. Neither serves the American people
Normally, I worry that events may overtake a column. But not so with the Iran war.
I don’t worry about running afoul of a headline or Truth Social post from the president because what is said about the situation is no longer very relevant to the reality.
On April 8, Nick Catoggio, my Dispatch colleague, dubbed an earlier stoppage with Iran “Schrödinger’s ceasefire.” This was a reference to the famous thought experiment by the physicist Erwin Schrödinger, who was trying to explain the weirdness of “superpositionality” in quantum physics. A cat in a box is both dead and alive at the same time until you open the box. Schrödinger meant to illustrate the absurdity of the idea that particles aren’t any one thing, but a “cloud of probabilities.”
The Trump administration is stuck in a word cloud of probabilities of his own making. The war is over. The war is on. The war isn’t a war. We have a deal, but we don’t have a deal, but we’re about to have a deal. We destroyed Iran’s military. No, we left it intact. We want regime change. No we don’t. We already accomplished it. We “obliterated” Iran’s nuclear program a year ago. We had to go to war in February to prevent nuclear war. The Strait of Hormuz is open, closed, or something in-between. No deal without “unconditional surrender.” Let’s make a deal!
This everything-all-at-once vibe can be disorienting, particularly since most Americans didn’t have a war with Iran on their bingo cards until the shooting had already started. President Trump didn’t prepare the country or consult with Congress beforehand because he thought it would all be a smashing success in a matter of weeks.
The miscalculation that started it all: killing Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and much of Iran’s senior leadership, on the first day of the war. To “the great proud people of Iran, I say tonight that the hour of your freedom is at hand,” Trump announced on Feb. 28. “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”
I support regime change in Iran and shed no tears for Khamenei or his goons. But when you start a war by killing the regime’s top leaders, it’s not unreasonable for the remaining ones to conclude that you really intend regime change.
Khamenei was a murderous fanatic, but he was a fairly cautious one. He liked to threaten closing the Strait of Hormuz or attacking our regional allies, but he was reluctant to actually do it, fearing it would invite a regime change war. The mullahs and IRGC goons believed, not unreasonably, that if they lost their grip on power, they’d be lynched by the Iranian people they’ve brutalized for decades.
By starting with a regime change war, Trump removed any reason for the regime not to go for broke. When you have nothing to lose — particularly when you are a millenarian religious fanatic — a Persian Alamo strategy makes a lot of sense.
So Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz and attacked its neighbors.
But it turns out this wasn’t the Alamo. In the contest of wills, Trump blinked. The Iranian regime’s tolerance for punishment proved — so far — to be greater than Trump’s and that of our gulf allies. Militarily we could finish the job, but that would require ground troops and much greater economic turmoil. In a conflict Trump launched unilaterally without the prior support of Congress, NATO or the American people, Trump doesn’t have the political capital for that.
But that’s only half the problem. Trump wants the war over, but he doesn’t want to pay — militarily, economically, politically — what that would cost. So he wants to make a deal that ends it. But there is no deal available that wouldn’t come at an equally undesirable cost. Any deal that looks like what President Obama struck with the Iranians would be too embarrassing to bear. But the Iranians are convinced that they can get just such a deal, and they’re willing to drag things out as long as it takes.
The result: Trump’s in a box of his own making. He thinks he can talk his way out by simply asserting a reality that doesn’t exist. When the financial markets get nervous, he announces a breakthrough that is, at best, a possibility. When the Iranians agree to a deal that looks similar to one Obama might negotiate, Trump goes back to his threats.
It can’t go on forever. But I’m sure it’ll last until long after this column is forgotten.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.