How “1776” Feels Different in 2025

by Chris Peterson

Every year around this time, I watch 1776, and I’m reminded how messy it all was. Independence didn’t happen with a single speech or a clean vote. It happened after arguments, delays, and exhaustion. People changed their minds. People gave in. Some were proud of what they signed, others just wanted to get it over with.

Watching it again this week, I didn’t feel patriotic in the traditional sense. I felt unsettled. Because what struck me most this time was how close everything came to falling apart.

1776 is a musical about people dragging their feet. They wait to vote. They stall on writing the Declaration. They argue over who should write it. And when it finally gets written, they argue over every single word. That kind of dysfunction isn’t a dramatic invention. It’s a reminder of how fragile the whole idea of America was to begin with.

John Adams says at one point, “One useless man is a disgrace. Two become a law firm. And three or more become a Congress.” It’s funny, but not really. It’s frustration. It’s a line you can hear in your head while watching the news today.

Then there’s Franklin, dry as ever. “Plato called democracy a charming form of government full of variety and disorder. I never knew he had been to Philadelphia.” He says it with a smirk, but he’s not wrong. Democracy is disorder. It has always been disorder.

We talk about the Founding Fathers like they were visionaries. But 1776 shows them as men in a room who could barely agree on anything. Some were idealists. Some were pragmatists. Some were just trying to protect their own interests. Many were exhausted. And still, somehow, they moved forward.

That’s what makes the show so effective. It reminds us that what we now celebrate as history was, at the time, uncertainty. It was fear. It was compromise and silence and people wondering if they were making a mistake.

That feels especially timely this year. We are once again watching people in power stall and posture while the country feels increasingly uncertain. Just this week, the Senate narrowly passed a $5 trillion bill that includes deep cuts to Medicaid and huge tax breaks for the wealthy. The vote came down to a handful of votes. Some lawmakers admitted they didn’t fully understand what they were voting on. It still passed.

That same day, a new poll showed that 73% of Americans believe democracy is at risk. That includes voters from both parties. People point to political violence, to threats against judges, to efforts by the Trump administration to consolidate executive power. We are not just divided. We are scared. And that fear is growing.

Across the country, thousands marched on what they called “No Kings Day” to protest against the erosion of checks and balances. More than 2,000 cities participated. Their message was simple. This country is not supposed to be about one man deciding everything. It is supposed to be about the people. And people are paying attention.

Legal scholars are using phrases like “constitutional crisis” with more urgency than ever. There are real concerns that judicial independence is being chipped away. There are proposals moving forward that would allow the president to bring federal agencies under direct control. That is not democracy functioning as designed. That is something else.

And yet, people are still showing up. They are still protesting. Still voting. Still speaking out. That’s what 1776 reminds us. That progress was never guaranteed. It never came easy. Even the Declaration itself was nearly derailed over disagreements. Even the people who believed in independence had to be convinced to act on it.

The musical doesn’t end with a huge celebration. It ends with the slow toll of a bell. One by one, the delegates sign their names. Some look proud. Others look resigned. It is not a moment of victory. It is a moment of weight. They are doing something they hope will matter. They are not sure that it will.

That’s what democracy looks like. Not certainty, but choice. Not confidence, but commitment. We were never promised this country would work. We were only promised the opportunity to try. And we are still trying.