Benjamin Franklin

Benjamin Franklin – Celebrating America’s 250th Birthday

In this special year-long series, we’re “interviewing” the men and women who risked everything to create our nation. We begin with Benjamin Franklin – printer, inventor, diplomat, and at 70, the eldest signer of the Declaration of Independence.

Benjamin Franklin, imagined in conversation with ILoveOV during America’s 250th year.

Dr. Franklin, thank you for joining us. What motivated you to risk everything for independence?

Risk? My dear friend, at my age, what did I truly risk? I’d already lived a full life – built a successful printing business, retired comfortably, conducted my electrical experiments, and enjoyed fame in Europe. The real risk was to my reputation, my comfort, my relationships with English friends I’d cultivated over decades in London.

But I watched Parliament treat us not as fellow Britons but as mere sources of revenue. When they rejected every reasonable petition, every olive branch, I realized reconciliation was a fantasy. I had grandchildren who would inherit either liberty or subjugation. The choice became clear: use whatever years remained to me in service of their future, or die a comfortable hypocrite.

Besides, I’ve always believed that stagnation is death. A new nation? That’s the grandest experiment of all.

What was your greatest fear during the Revolution?

That we’d fracture before we’d even begun. Thirteen colonies – different economies, different religions, different interests. Getting them to agree on anything was like herding cats, if you’ll pardon the expression.

I feared we’d squabble ourselves into defeat, that regional jealousies would hand the British victory. That’s why I put so much energy into preaching unity in Philadelphia. “We must all hang together,” I told them after signing the Declaration, “or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.” I meant it as humor, but the gallows were quite real.

My other fear? That France wouldn’t help us. Without French money, French ships, French soldiers – well, courage alone doesn’t win wars against the world’s greatest navy.

What compromises did you make that still trouble you?

Slavery. The great stain, the terrible compromise.

I owned slaves in my younger years – may God forgive me. As I aged, I came to see it as a monstrous injustice, fundamentally incompatible with the liberty we claimed to cherish. I became president of the Pennsylvania Abolition Society and wrote petitions to Congress.

But at the Constitutional Convention, I watched us embed slavery’s protection into our founding document. The Southern delegations wouldn’t budge – no compromise on slavery, no Constitution. No Constitution, no union. No union, we’d be picked off one by one.

So I held my tongue when I should have roared. I told myself we were building a framework that future generations could perfect. But I knew – we all knew – we were passing our moral failure to our children and grandchildren. Some nights I wonder if our great experiment will ultimately collapse under the weight of that original sin.

What would surprise us most about daily life in your era?

The darkness! You modern folk have electric lights everywhere – something I helped discover – but never imagined you’d use so thoroughly. We went to bed when the sun set because candlelight was expensive. A book read by firelight was a luxury.

And the silence. No mechanical hum, no traffic, no radios or whatever devices you carry now. Just horses, wagon wheels, church bells, and human voices.

Also, everything took so long. A letter from Philadelphia to Paris? Two months if you were lucky and the ship didn’t sink. You young people with your instant communications – you can’t fathom the patience required for diplomacy when every exchange takes half a year.

Oh, and we smelled. Terribly. Don’t let the portraits fool you – bathing was infrequent, dental care was crude, and powdered wigs covered all manner of hygiene sins.

If you could witness one moment 250 years in the future – 2026 – what would you want to see?

I’d want to stand in Congress and watch them debate. Not the topic – the fact that they’re debating at all. That our constitutional republic has survived for 250 years, despite most predicting it would collapse within decades.

I’d want to see if we’re still arguing, still disagreeing, still somehow holding together. A nation of argument and compromise is far preferable to a nation of silent obedience.

And I confess, I’d love to peek at your scientific progress. You’ve mastered electricity, I assume? Conquered diseases? Perhaps even traveled to other worlds? A philosopher-scientist never loses his curiosity.

You’re told that Oro Valley, Arizona – desert land you never knew existed – is now home to 50,000 people. What questions do you have?

Arizona? Desert? Good Lord, we barely knew what lay beyond the Appalachians!

My first question: How did they get water? Fifty thousand souls in a desert seems either miraculous or foolhardy. Did they discover vast underground reserves? Divert rivers? Some invention I cannot imagine?

Second: Why settle there? Was the coastal land all claimed? Did they discover gold or silver? Or did Americans simply develop such a hunger for space and new horizons that even deserts became desirable?

Third: Are they free? Do they govern themselves? Or did creating a continental empire require sacrificing the local liberty we fought so hard to establish?

Tell me – is Oro Valley part of our United States, or did the nation fragment as I feared?

What advice would you give Americans celebrating the 250th birthday?

First: Remember that your republic is an experiment, not a finished product. Each generation must renew it, reform it, perfect it. We gave you tools – a Constitution, a framework for change – but you must do the work.

Second: Preserve your capacity for compromise. I guarantee you’ll disagree about everything – you probably already do. But if you abandon the art of finding middle ground, if you make disagreement an excuse for disunion, you’ll lose what we built.

Third: Stay curious. Read widely. Question authority – even the founding fathers! We were fallible men, not prophets. Learn from our wisdom, but don’t be enslaved by our mistakes.

Fourth: Invest in the rising generation. I established libraries, schools, and institutions because democracy requires educated citizens. Whatever your modern challenges, an ignorant people cannot remain free.