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Why America at 250 Matters

by Ethan Na

My father arrived in the United States from China with little more than a suitcase and an electrical engineering degree that the local bureaucracy did not yet recognize. In his early years in China, life was defined by the “unit.” Every professional ambition was filtered through a state-mandated plan, and the concept of a “startup” was non-existent. When he finally attempted to launch his own electronics firm in our American suburb, he did not just see a business venture. He saw a sanctuary of self-determination. He often tells me that in his youth, one worked to satisfy a committee, but here, he could work to satisfy a market and his own technical standards. To him, the American Dream is not a white picket fence; it is the absence of a government official standing between his soldering iron and his circuit boards.

As we approach the 250th anniversary of the United States in 2026, I have found myself reflecting on his journey. This milestone is more than just a massive birthday party or a historical reenactment. It is a moment to look at the messy, silicon-dusted reality of our founding ideals: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. While these words are often treated like dusty relics in a civics textbook, they are actually the “operating system” that allows a person to build something from nothing without asking the state for a permission slip to innovate.

The core of the American experiment is the shift from “may I?” to “I will.” For most of human history, the path of an individual was dictated by the person sitting on a throne or a central committee. The American Revolution flipped that script. When the Founders spoke of the “pursuit of happiness” they were not talking about a vague feeling of joy. They were talking about the right to own property, to trade freely, and to direct one’s own labor. This matters to me because I see how easily that spirit can be smothered.

When we look at the modern landscape, we see a growing “permission culture.” Whether it is burdensome occupational licensing that prevents a person from starting a simple service business or complex regulations that favor giant corporations over the immigrant starting a firm in his home office, we have strayed from the simplicity of 1776. In fact, nearly one in four American workers now requires a license from the government just to do their job, a massive increase from only five percent in the 1950s (Sandefur).

One example of this “straying” is the sheer size and weight of the modern federal government. The Founders envisioned a system of limited, enumerated powers. Today, the Federal Register of regulations spans over 80,000 pages (Gorsuch). When a country becomes a “nation of rules” rather than a “nation of laws” the individual gets lost in the shuffle. I have seen this in my own community, where small local businesses struggled to stay afloat during the pandemic not just because of the virus, but because of a labyrinth of conflicting mandates that changed by the hour. We have moved toward a system where the government is no longer just the referee of the game, but a player that keeps changing the score to suit the largest teams. John Stossel highlights this tension well, noting that the more the government attempts to manage our lives, the less freedom we have to actually live them (“Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness”).

However, despite these frustrations, I believe we have lived up to our ideals in ways that would have stunned the people of 1776. The definition of “We the People” has expanded to include everyone, regardless of race or gender, making the pursuit of happiness a universal promise rather than an exclusive club (Jefferson). We remain a primary destination for innovators like my father because we still, largely, reward risk. This cultural drive is evident in our national data. In January 2026 alone, the United States saw over 532,000 new business applications, including nearly 148,000 “high-propensity” applications from entrepreneurs who intend to hire employees and grow (U.S. Census Bureau). This suggests that the desire to build and create remains a fundamental part of the American identity. In many other countries, if you fail at a business, you are a social pariah. In America, a failed startup is often seen as a badge of honor, a necessary step on the road to success. That culture of resilience is a direct descendant of the liberty our Constitution was designed to protect.

To me, the 250th anniversary is a call to return to our “founding DNA.” What should our country stand for? It should stand for the underdog. It should stand for the student who wants to start an online business from their dorm room without being buried in red tape. It should stand for the family that wants to choose the best school for their child without being told their zip code is their destiny. It should be a place where the primary job of the government is to ensure a level playing field, then get out of the way.

Looking toward my own future, I want to live in an America that still feels like a land of possibilities. I do not want a life that is “managed” or “guaranteed” by a central authority. I want the freedom to make my own mistakes and reap my own rewards. When the fireworks go off in July 2026, I will not just be celebrating a date on a calendar. I will be celebrating the fact that, in this country, a person with a schematic, a dream, and a bit of grit can still change their destiny. We have not reached the finish line of the American experiment yet, but after 250 years, the engine of liberty is still worth tuning up.