We are approaching the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, but I am not in a celebratory mood. It is getting more and more difficult for me to engage in regular interactions with people who don’t seem to care about the violence and destruction this administration is perpetrating, and to celebrate our country as we are witnessing such atrocities feels disingenuous. 

It is impossible for me to ignore that the authoritarian tactics of the Trump administration are opposed to the values expressed in our founding documents—except, of course, the racism and misogyny that taints them. A nation founded on the self-evident truths of equality and unalienable rights is a lofty aspiration, but for too long that equality has been something enjoyed only by white men. Women and people who do not identify as white have had to fight for their own participation in our democracy for the past 250 years, aspiring to move this nation closer to the vision of equality upon which it was founded. Now much of that progress is being rescinded.

The next few months will still bring opportunities to come together and celebrate our national democratic project. I am both optimistic and nostalgic by nature, and I remain hopeful that a nation founded on such principles will ultimately meet them. I would love to join in the celebrations—Lord knows we could use something to unite around, if only briefly—but this moment calls for something deeper. To put it another way, resistance to whitewashed history and authoritarian violence is necessary to foster authentic unity.

Two events from earlier this year offer interesting case studies. 

In February, President Trump delivered his State of the Union Address, and some congressional Democrats boycotted the event, offering an alternative “People’s State of the Union.” They claimed that because the Trump administration has undermined the rule of law and democratic norms, a show of unity was not earned or appropriate. Chris Murphy, the Democratic senator from Connecticut, said, “Democrats have no obligation to reward him with an audience as he lies and attacks people who disagree with him.”

The State of the Union speech came soon after the controversy over the halftime show at the Super Bowl on Feb. 8, when the Grammy-winning artist Bad Bunny offered viewers a glimpse into Puerto Rican culture and invited us to reflect on themes of love, family and community, as well as an inclusive and expansive definition of America. Conservative commentators decried Bad Bunny’s performance, which was almost entirely in Spanish, lamenting that it wasn’t “white enough” (as the far-right activist and Trump advisor Laura Loomer wrote on X) and as such, could not foster unity among Americans in the United States. Referring to the selection of Bad Bunny as main performer, Mr. Trump said, “All it does is sow hatred.” 

So millions of people turned away from a show featuring Puerto Rican culture because it wasn’t “American” enough, and millions turned away from the president’s State of the Union Address because they viewed it as divisive and illegitimate. Clearly a halftime show and the State of the Union address serve different functions and hold different weights, so this is not a perfect comparison. However, because Mr. Trump himself and many of his supporters, in effect, invested the halftime performance with a responsibility to bring Americans together, it is helpful to observe the distinctions between these boycotts. How can we determine whether the refusal to participate in such events constitutes a legitimate effort to foster authentic unity, as opposed to reinforcing the divisions that plague us?

Augustine on superficial unity

St. Augustine’s experience with the Donatist sect in the late fourth and early fifth centuries sheds some light on this question. When a sect of Catholics began imposing purity standards on the church, often violently, Augustine led charges against them to compel them to stop. While he desperately desired unity, he recognized that the use of the Gospel to foment violence or prevent people from being accepted into full communion was itself a violation of unity. Thus, standing up to Donatists was not an act of disunity at all, but instead a response to what was already disunified.

Unity based on the exclusion or oppression of others is inherently divisive—it is a contradiction. Those who hold such contradictions, Augustine tells us, “shatter the confines of human society and impudently delight in their own little cliques and feuds…. [I]n a fragmented manner and out of a private pride, they value false oneness” (The Confessions of St. Augustine, 3.16). 

A false oneness is precisely what emerges when diversity is rejected in favor of white supremacy, or when the Trump administration promulgates lies to generate cohesion among supporters—lies that foment fear and resentment; lies that cover up the harms committed by wealthy men; lies that undermine the rule of law and scapegoat women, immigrants and others. It is what emerges when whiteness is cast as the epitome of culture, evidenced when unity is viewed as impossible unless whiteness is centered. 

Indeed, members of this administration have suggested that assimilation into white European culture is what maintains unity. Recently, we can think of Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s statement to European allies that mass migration “is an urgent threat to the fabric of our societies and the survival of our civilization itself.” There was also Jeremy Carl, the president’s nominee for a senior State Department position, arguing that “a loss of a dominant white culture is weakening the country.” And Vice President JD Vance claimed that “even though the ideas and the principles are great, [America] is a homeland…. People will not fight for abstractions, but they will fight for their home,” raising the specter of the “blood and soil” rhetoric of the Nazi regime.

Those seeking to build cohesion through the promotion of their own “white” culture are forgetting Augustine’s warning that a “greater love for what belongs to us personally” than for the common good of all fosters nothing but a “fictional liberty” (See The Confessions of Saint Augustine, 3.16). 

Here are some questions I find helpful in discerning between false and authentic efforts to promote unity: Will this action expand the horizons of my moral vision? Am I hopeful this effort will foster abundant life for all? Am I acknowledging harm and injustice when appropriate? Who is celebrating with me, and who is dismayed by this action? Am I putting my own comfort over justice, or using my privilege to justify domination? Will this motivate me to go forth and encounter all of my neighbors with humility and acts of care?

We should be particularly wary of giving our attention or support to national celebrations organized to obscure the complexity of our history and culture. The White House Freedom 250 Task Force, for example, is planning events “to inspire a renewed love for American history, encourage citizens to experience the beauty of our country, ignite a spirit of adventure and innovation to help our nation succeed for the next 250 years, and invite Americans to pray for our country and our people and rededicate ourselves as One Nation Under God.”

But we know that this administration has already distorted our history with public school curricula and rewritten materials in national parks meant to obscure anything that could paint the United States in a negative light, and its ties to Christian nationalism reflect a white patriarchal conception of “God.” (It is also upsetting that Bishop Robert Barron and Cardinal Timothy Dolan chose to participate in the recent Rededicate America 250 prayer event without challenging this framework, which has been promoted by several speakers at the event. We need leaders who will “maintain a critical sense in the face of these tendencies,” as Pope Francis exhorts in “Fratelli Tutti.”)

Rather than affirming these distortions, I plan to mark the 250th anniversary by participating in the People’s Action Organizing Revival, which recognizes that “to achieve a multiracial, pluralistic democracy and move toward an inclusive economy, we must ground ourselves in the best and most effective practices of relational, power-based community organizing.”

But if you plan to attend any of the official anniversary events, consider showing up with protest signs. In communal celebrations as well, look for opportunities to invite conversations about how to foster more inclusivity and democratic engagement. In homilies and church materials, avoid nationalist rhetoric and symbolism, and emphasize our call to unity-in-diversity and justice. We can celebrate the possibilities of our democratic experiment while acknowledging that we still have to put in a lot of work to realize them.

Our God, in whose image we are made, is the dynamism of unity-in-diversity, the reality of love that extends beyond itself in embodied care. To live into this truth means refusing to legitimize performative platitudes of unity. This refusal is a moral responsibility. It is the work of compassion and liberation, and the unity-in-diversity that is the heart of our faith.