From Florida Phoenix, a timely column by magnificent truth-teller, satirist and English Professor, Diane Roberts::
Postcard shows Aviles Street in St. Augustine; undated. (Via State Library of Florida)
Our democratic republic has survived (more or less) for 250 years. Despite the best efforts of the existing regime, we still (mostly) cherish the rule of law, free speech (pretty much), and the right to vote.
So, two cheers for us as the nation hurls itself into a frenzy of self-congratulation, parades, parties, patriotic spectacles, and pious — often historically dubious — invocations of American Exceptionalism.
Florida will be right there with everybody else, wrapping ourselves in the flag so tightly oxygen may struggle to reach our brains.
But perhaps you are wondering what was going on in Florida back in 1776.
What valiant battles did we fight? Did the Forces of Freedom take on the Redcoats and teach them a lesson? Were the Founding Fathers proud of us?
Actually, Florida in 1776 was a British colony and remained a British colony, loyal to the British Crown throughout the War of Independence.
Not that we like to admit this.
The state’s official commemorations include:
- Ron DeSantis unveiling a statue of Benjamin Franklin in Franklin County.
- Ron DeSantis unveiling a statue of Thomas Jefferson in Jefferson County.
- Ron DeSantis unveiling a statue of James Monroe in Monroe County.
- Ron DeSantis unveiling a statue of Alexander Hamilton in Hamilton County
- Ron DeSantis unveiling a statue of George Washington in Tallahassee.
Tough luck, Chipley.
But let’s talk history.
Wars galore
In the mid-18th century, the British found themselves fighting more wars than you can shake a stick at, including the Carnatic Wars against the French for control of India, the Jacobite Uprising to replace a Hanoverian king with a French-backed Stuart one, a European campaign to stop the Spanish (and the French) from eating up Portugal, and the biggest and most important one, the French and Indian War.
It was a hydra-headed monster in which the British and the French, along with Native American allies on both sides, duked it out over who controlled trade, who controlled the Ohio River, and who owned those vast lands north of the St. Lawrence River.
Finally, in the 1763 Treaty of Paris, the British got Canada. The French settled for a couple of Caribbean islands, while their ally Spain got Havana, Cuba, back from the British, who had captured it. The Spanish, who had colonized Florida 250 years before, ceded our swampy territory to Britain.
(Still with me? I won’t judge if you run off and pour yourself a stiff drink).
To resume: Here’s British West Florida, with Pensacola as its capital, and British East Florida, with St. Augustine as its capital. The population (not counting Native people) was around 20,000 souls, 65% of whom were black.
A lot of white people made a lot of money as merchants, planters, slave traders, and smugglers traversing the Atlantic to West Indies and back again.
Richard Oswald, a Scot who owned thousands of acres of old Timucua land along the Tomoka River, grew indigo, rice, sugar cane, and cotton — or rather, his enslaved people did.
Loyalist haven
In 1774, the First Continental Congress urged Florida to send delegates who could help draft petitions to George III and fume over the various injustices visited on the colonies, including quartering soldiers in private property, blocking Boston Harbor, and the Crown’s demand that American colonists stop grabbing Native American land west of the Appalachians.
Unimpressed, Florida declined the invitation.
News of the Declaration of Independence two years later didn’t reach St. Augustine for more than a month. When they heard, mightily pissed off residents hanged effigies of John Hancock and Samuel Adams in the town plaza.
The Florida colonists weren’t looking to become part of some raggedy new country to the north; they were doing fine, thank you very much.
George Washington, on the other hand, really wanted to capture Florida. It had forts, ports, and connections to Britain’s strategic Caribbean possessions.
In late summer 1776, 2,500 Continental Army soldiers marched south from Savannah to take St. Augustine. It didn’t work; there weren’t enough supplies. Half the men deserted.
Washington tried again the next year, but the American troops were vanquished at the Battle of Thomas Creek. Same thing in 1778 when rebel forces tried to cross the St. Mary’s River and swoop down into what is now Nassau County.
Florida remained stubbornly British, becoming a haven for fleeing Loyalists.
Scholars estimate about 20% of the white population of the 13 colonies wanted to remain part of the British Empire, 50% wanted independence, and the rest just tried to keep their heads down until one side or the other won the war.
Florida traded
The point is, history is more complicated than we’d like, certainly more complicated and more uncomfortable than the Trump White House and the DeSantis administration would prefer.
Trump famously complained the Museum of African American History and Culture focused too much on “how bad slavery was,” while Ron DeSantis insists enslaved people acquired skills they could apply “for their personal benefit.”
But history, like science, doesn’t care what those two or any of the rest of us think.
Florida wasn’t British for that long — just 20 years. The Spanish got it back in the 1783 Treaty of Paris.
The Spanish gave the British the Bahamas in return. You can decide for yourself who ended up with better beaches.
Historical aside: Don’t confuse that treaty with the 1763 Treaty of Paris or the 1784 Treaty of Paris of any the 30 other Treaties of Paris, from 1229, ending the Albigensian Crusade, to 1951, establishing the European Coal and Steel Community.
The main thing about the 1783 treaty was that it established the United States as an independent nation.
Thought experiment: What would have happened if Florida, like Canada, had remained part of Britain, first as a dominion, then eventually becoming an independent nation and member of the Commonwealth?
Upside: We might be praised for our politeness, speak French as well as English, and have universal healthcare.
Downside: Poutine. Dumping cheese curds on fries and smothering the whole thing in beef and chicken gravy is a crime against gastronomy.
But that’s not, of course, how the geopolitical cookie crumbled.
Once again, Spain had to figure out what to do with Florida.
Headache
They’d owned the place for the better part of the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries and never made money off it. The Spanish weren’t big on plantations; they were more into extractive industries.
Their Latin American colonies provided them with a lot of gold, silver, emeralds, and other blingy stuff.
Florida? Mosquitoes, alligators, and trees.
To boost the population as a defense against the Americans to the north, the French to the west and the British in the Caribbean, King Charles IV started giving land away for free.
My first Florida ancestor, a Frenchman named François Brouard, moved to Spanish East Florida in 1799.
Ol’ François had fought for the Americans in the War of Independence and Anglicized his name to Francis Broward, but he soon abandoned his new country to get his hands on a big chunk of property.
An exemplary Floridian.
But for Spain, Florida was a headache.
Andrew Jackson, soldier, slave trader, plantation owner, and all-around jerk had taken to violating their territory, burning Seminole villages, and hunting down enslaved people who’d escaped from the Carolinas and Georgia to relative freedom in Florida.
In 1819, the exhausted Spanish gave up and ceded Florida to the United States.
The bellicose and deeply racist Jackson became Florida’s first territorial governor.
And here we are: A state run by frightened white folks who want to play down anything critical instead of dealing with our sometimes uplifting, sometimes embarrassing, often maddening history.
Everyone wants to believe they’re good people who have always been good people, especially if they want to celebrate a national milestone and perhaps ignore the unraveling of what had been a society struggling for inclusion, decency, equal justice, and genuine liberty.
While you’re grilling your hot dogs, waving your flags, and hollering “USA! USA!” remember our story is morally messy, tangled, and often contradictory.
We can be proud of our accomplishments; we must also acknowledge that empires decline (ask the Romans, the Spanish, and the British) and nations do not stay on top forever.
Celebrate, but cast a cold eye on our rulers, those who would ignore or deny history, those who would trash our constitutional rights.
Celebrate, but reflect: Is America in 2026 the country you want it to be?
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