Black Founders: The Four-Part Series

In honor of Black History Month, Glenn featured a four-part series on America’s black founders. America has a rich tradition of strong men and women playing prominent roles in the founding of our country — including patriotic black Americans. But you won’t hear about them in school. It simply doesn’t fit with the progressive narrative. Political correctness has watered down and left out the stories of these patriots with strong moral character and courage. It’s past time to set the record straight.

You want to heal our land? It starts with telling the truth. This four-part series puts a laser focus on Americans that might otherwise be lost to history, highlighting how they stood shoulder to shoulder with fellow patriots. Join Glenn as he cracks open the history books to give these great founders their due and helps preserve the amazing stories of America’s black founders.

The four-part series is compiled below for your convenience.

Part I: Crispus Attucks

In the mid-1700’s, people living in the American Colonies were British subjects, still loyal to the crown. However, as the one million people spread across 13 colonies became more and more industrious, they also became more and more frustrated with the lack of input they had over taxation and the laws that came down from Great Britain.

These were the things that governed their lives, and they didn't like it.  In fact, it seemed every time they started to gain an economic foothold in the new world, the British Parliament or the king would pull it out from under them. The Sugar Act, the Currency Act, the Stamp Act, and the Townsend Act all added to a growing disenfranchisement from 1750-1770, and also built a sense of American patriotism.

One such patriot was a young runaway slave from Boston, Massachusetts --- Crispus Attucks.

Forgotten over the centuries is that the British institution of slavery, while much more prevalent in the southern colonies was also practiced in 18th century Massachusetts. In 1750, an ad taken out in the Boston Gazette described the escape of a ‘mulatto’ slave named Crispus Attucks, and offered a 10 pound reward for his return, about $2,000 in today’s currency.

Crispus was never captured and lived the next 27 years loving life as a sailor and a free man in the American Colonies.

Tensions were growing among British soldiers and colonists during this time. In addition to taxation without representation, the British Parliament issued writs of assistance that gave British officers the power to search any residence or building without warning or supervision and to confiscate whatever they deemed to be smuggled or otherwise improperly obtained goods. They cracked down on any protest or dissent and gave immunity to corrupt or abusive British officials. There was no right to trial by jury. And the colonials were forced to house British soldiers.  

The tensions between British soldiers and colonists did not go unnoticed by Crispus Attucks, and one day Attucks and his sailor friends had finally had enough. They engaged some British soldiers in an altercation. A few days later, a soldier looking for work entered a Boston pub and came across Attucks. Recognizing him from the previous altercation, things escalated quickly. A scuffle ensued, and Attucks was shot and killed. In what became known as the ‘Boston Massacre’, Crispus Attucks died a martyr and became an American Hero.

Not only was Attucks the first black man to die during the American Revolution, he was also the first American to die for his country.

Part II: Peter Salem

Patriotism was on the rise and the sentiment was no respecter of station or color, just ask Peter Salem. Born into slavery in 1750 in Framingham, Massachusetts to Jeremiah Belknap, Salem was later sold to Lawson Bruckminster --- a man who would become a major in the Continental Army.

Taxation without representation took its toll on everyone, causing a shift in loyalties --- and sometimes the act of a few can inspire the masses. One such event for Peter Salem was the Boston Tea Party. So moved by what he had witnessed, Salem pleaded with Bruckminster to let him to fight alongside his fellow patriots. Touched by Salem's devotion, Bruckminster granted the slave his freedom, immediately allowing him to join the Massachusetts Minutemen.

Salem had proven himself a capable spy and learned weeks in advance that the British were planning to attack and take rebel supplies. Because of this intelligence, the rebels moved their supplies and were ready and waiting when the British showed up. The ensuing battle in Lexington marked the beginning of the revolution where the ‘shot heard round the world’ was fired.

Salem later fought at Bunker Hill and the battle of Saratoga Springs, becoming a revolutionary war hero. He lived out his days in Framingham as a free man and cane weaver. Peter Salem was so revered that his final resting place was among white people at the Framingham cemetery, an unheard of honor for a one-time slave.

The town also placed a memorial stone over Salem's gravesite, calling him "a soldier of the Revolution."

At a time when we are so divided, how much of a difference would it make in places like Baltimore, Ferguson and Chicago to know the truth of our Black Founders? To know we have stood shoulder to shoulder as brothers and sisters before, even back to the founding of this great nation?

The story of Peter Salem adds further evidence that the founding of America was truly revolutionary.

Part III: Prince Whipple

Prince Whipple is a name that virtually no American has ever heard. But ask nearly all of those Americans if they know the name of Mr. Whipple from the 1980s Charmin toilet paper commercials, and the answer will most certainly be yes.

Who is Prince Whipple? Tragically, he is one of America's great patriots, erased from recorded history. His last name came from William Whipple, the man who purchased him as a slave, and his first name came from his royal title in Ghana, Africa. Prince Whipple was a man of royal birth sold into slavery.

Prince came to America to study and learn but was instead kidnapped and forced into slavery. He resisted the hate and anger that most would have harbored, and distinguished himself with exceptional manners and hard work. Prince gained the trust and favor of William Whipple. In fact, he was at the side of William Whipple when, as a member of the Continental Congress, he signed the Declaration of Independence.

In 1777, William was made a general in the Continental Army, and he once again took his trusted slave, asking Prince to fight if called upon. In exchange for his freedom, Prince agreed to fight until his last drop of blood. Prince fought valiantly at Saratoga for the American forces. While he honored his word, it wasn’t until 1784 that William Whipple finally fulfilled his promise and freed Prince, who lived out the rest of his days as a free man.

In 1851, a German-born painter who had grown up in the United States, but went back to Germany as an adult, was in despair over his homeland's revolutions of 1848. So he painted the scene of George Washington crossing the Delaware to inspire his fellow countrymen to remember the principles of the American Revolution.

In the painting, at the front of the boat with Washington as he crossed the Delaware, is a young black man. At the the time, many thought that black man was Prince Whipple. Historians have since discovered that Prince Whipple did not participate in the Battle of Trenton, but was instead with William Whipple back in Baltimore, Maryland. It is now believed that the painting is no more than a composite of all the blacks who helped America gain her independence, including Prince Whipple.

The fact that historians now say the man in the boat is not specifically Prince Whipple in no way diminishes his role in American history. Prince Whipple certainly believed in, stood for, fought for and eventually experienced those rights. He is indelibly etched into the fabric of this great nation and its history.

Part IV: James Armistead

Long before there was a CIA, NSA, MI5 or KGB, a long time before there was James Bond or even movies at all, there was a 33-year-old slave named James Armistead. Despite having lived his entire life in slavery, James Armistead wanted to help his country. In 1781, James asked for permission to join the revolutionary cause, and it was granted.

James joined the army and landed in the service of the Marquis de Lafayette. What Lafayette needed most was information --- and a spy. James Armistead was more than willing to oblige, becoming what well may be the first double agent in our nation's history.

Posing as an escaped slave, James entered Benedict Arnold's camp as a waiter and a guide, sending information back to Lafayette. He later returned north with Arnold, earning the British commander's confidence, traveling freely between both sides. In addition to gaining knowledge about the British, he also fed them inaccurate data. It was incredibly dangerous work that would surely bring the death penalty should he be discovered.

One day, there was a huge breakthrough when Armistead discovered that the British naval fleet was moving 10,000 troops to Yorktown, Virginia, making it a central post for their operation. Lafayette and General George Washington were stunned by the news, recognizing this could be a big break for the Continental Army.

Using the intricate and detailed data Armistead provided, Washington lay siege to the town. A massive and devastating American victory at Yorktown resulted in the surrender of Great Britain on October 19th, 1781, essentially ending the war. The colonies had won, thanks to Armistead's intelligence, defeating the greatest military might on the planet.

In 1783, as a reward to the slaves who fought for American independence, Congress passed the Emancipation Act. Unfortunately, the act applied only to soldiers, not spies. Thus, James was considered ineligible for emancipation. It was a tough ruling under the circumstances, but Virginia law dictated that slaves could not be freed from their owners --- even upon the death of that owner. And the Emancipation Act did nothing to change that for James. That same Virginia law is the reason Thomas Jefferson was never able to free his slaves.

Given the heroic service James Armistead had devoted to his country, Lafayette found the ruling unacceptable. The marquess wrote a testimonial for James' freedom. On November 30th, 1786, James with his owner's support, used Lafayette's testimonial to support his petition to the Virginia Assembly that he be granted freedom. On January 9th, 1787, the Virginia General Assembly finally granted emancipation to James Armistead.

As a free man, James purchased 40 acres of land, became a farmer, married and raised a family. Many years later, the Virginia legislature granted him a pension of $40 a year for his heroic service.

Forty years after he had last seen Lafayette, James heard the news that his old friend and commander was returning to visit the United States. Lacking the funds to travel, the white townspeople took up a collection to help. In 1824, the Richmond Enquirer reported that James was recognized by the marquess who called him by name and embraced him. The years had done nothing to diminish their respect, admiration and friendship.

Six years later, on August 9th, 1830, at the age of 82, our first war spy, the revolutionary war spy and former slave, James Armistead Lafayette died a free man on his farm in New Kent County, Virginia.

Featured Image: The Frederick Douglass Statue in Emancipation Hall at the Capitol Visitors Center, at the U.S. Capitol. (Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images)

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

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The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

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Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

Joe Raedle / Staff | Getty Images

The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

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Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

The Crisis of Meaning: Searching for truth and purpose

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Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.