Liberty Delayed is Liberty Denied

Many people refer to Juneteenth as America’s second Independence Day. It occurred when two thousand federal soldiers arrived in Galveston, Texas, to enforce the Emancipation Proclamation—the presidential order that declared the freedom of enslaved African Americans.

Freedom declared is not freedom until it is delivered. Juneteenth occurred more than two years after President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. And the work to deliver freedom continues to this day. We can see that in today’s widening rich-poor gaps that largely cut across racial lines. Every American deserves a fair shot at financial well-being.

Juneteenth reminds us that our American ideals are not self-executing. For America to deliver on its promise, our union must do more than survive—it must thrive. Each of us must do more than simply believe in equality and liberty; we must deliver them, over and again, to our neighbors, to ourselves, and to everyone.

The Statue of Liberty was a gift from the French people to commemorate America’s centennial. Broken chains surround her ankles to represent emancipation. These chains remain beneath her feet, so she always feels the pain of our violent history. The broken shackles show us how much farther we have yet to go; they do not mark how far we've come.

The same force it took to break free from slavery is what propels Liberty forward today. That is why Lady Liberty is depicted in mid-stride: she is still moving, still reaching. Lady Liberty embodies an America that is continuously in a state of becoming. We can see and feel America’s inherent greatness in how we heal from our struggles and in how we hope for a brighter tomorrow. America suffers when we avoid facing the hard truths. America weakens when we repackage our history to fit today’s political expediency.

President Lincoln delivered his Second Inaugural Address in the waning days of the Civil War when victory was certain. Lincoln could have used fiery rhetoric to drag the confederate states into compliance. He could have threatened them with greater suffering if they did not do what he ordered. Instead, the President offered his profound sadness for the war that tore the American fabric and destroyed families on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line. In a mark of humility rarely seen in today’s leaders, Lincoln asked all Americans to begin the work of binding up the nation’s wounds—with malice toward none, with charity for all—so that freedom might truly be delivered.

“With malice toward none; with charity for all . . . let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds. . . to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.”– Abraham Lincoln

The work Lincoln asks us to do has been excruciatingly slow. Nearly a century passed before America began desegregating our schools. In 1896, the Supreme Court established the “separate but equal” doctrine upholding racial segregation. Almost 60 years later, in 1954, the Court declared school segregation unconstitutional in Brown v. Board of Education. And yet it took another year for the Court to direct public schools to desegregate. In that ruling, the Court declared that schools must act ‘with all deliberate speed.’ The ambiguity of this phrase allowed states to resist integration for years. The federal government again intervened following passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 which conditioned federal funding on desegregation. And still, the work continues.

Freedom delayed is freedom denied.

Consider Lady Justice. Blindfolded to ensure impartiality, she holds a scale to symbolize that the rule of law must be fair to everyone. The scale of Justice, however, does not simply weigh out cold, symmetrical balance. This scale balances all the interests at stake – including those of fairness, and equanimity, and compassion. That is why Justice requires integrity.

When we act with integrity we align our actions with our values. Today, the gap between the rich and the poor stretches wider than ever. Financial well-being remains a promise fulfilled only for the few, not the many. Lady Justice would ask: Does America serve all, or just the fortunate few?

We must see American independence as an embrace of collective responsibility. After all, our founding was not only about individuals coming together to wrest liberty from the grip of a tyrant king—it was about unity. America is built on the humility that our first states showed by limiting their sovereignty in exchange for sharing the benefits of their collective and collaborative association. America is built on a common cause that creates dignity for all people and all families to worship and love whomever they choose. It is about our shared pursuit of happiness. American independence is nothing without our interdependence. We rise together—or not at all.

Because freedom isn't simply proclaimed. It must be practiced—and delivered. Together. So let us keep striving toward that more perfect union. Let us acknowledge our scars not as shame, but as signs that we are able to heal.