by Jill Lepore
In These Truths, historian Jill Lepore frames the entire span of American history around a single question raised at the founding: "Is there any arrangement of government—any constitution—by which it's possible for a people to rule themselves, justly and fairly, and as equals?" The book organizes its sprawling narrative around what Thomas Jefferson called "these truths"—three political ideas at the heart of the American experiment:
Lepore tests how faithfully the nation has lived up to these professed ideals across centuries. She begins not in 1776 but in 1492, following the convention of early historians like George Bancroft who "stitched 1776 to 1492" to give a young state a sense of nationhood. But she pushes deeper, arguing that the country's founding truths were "forged in a crucible of violence"—conquest, slaughter, and slavery.
The highlights emphasize how slavery and dispossession were woven into the nation's legal and intellectual foundations from the start: the Massachusetts Body of Liberties drawing on Roman law to justify enslaving captured Pequots and Africans, conquistadors reading the Requerimiento aloud to those they intended to conquer, and Aristotle's claim that some are "by nature slaves." A telling distinction runs throughout: Franklin's edit changing Jefferson's "sacred and undeniable" to "self-evident" shifted the nation's truths from divine to empirical—a divide Lepore says "has nearly rent the Republic apart."
Lepore also distinguishes a nation (a people of shared ancestry) from a state (a political community governed by laws), noting how absurd the fiction of common American ancestry was. History, she writes, is "a near chaos of contingencies and accidents," and to study it is "to unlock the prison of the present."
The origins of the United States can be found in those seams. When the United States declared its independence in 1776, plainly, it was a state, but what made it a nation? The fiction that its people shared a common ancestry was absurd on its face; they came from all over, and, having waged a war against England, the very last thing they wanted to celebrate was their Englishness. In an attempt to solve this problem, the earliest historians of the United States decided to begin their accounts with Columbus’s voyage, stitching 1776 to 1492. George Bancroft published his History of the United States from the Discovery of the American Continent to the Present in 1834, when the nation was barely more than a half-century old, a fledgling, just hatched.
Yet the origins of the United States date to 1492 for another, more troubling reason: the nation’s founding truths were forged in a crucible of violence, the products of staggering cruelty, conquest and slaughter, the assassination
Under Roman law, government exists to manage relations of property, the king’s ministers argued, and since, according to Columbus, the natives had no government, they had no property, and therefore no dominion. Regarding sovereignty, the king’s ministers turned to Aristotle’s Politics. “That some should rule and others be ruled is a thing not only necessary, but expedient,” Aristotle had written. “From the hour of their birth, some are marked out for subjection, others for rule.”
Slavery, for Aristotle, was not a matter of law but a matter of nature: “he who is by nature not his own but another’s man, is by nature a slave; and he may be said to be another’s man who, being a human being, is also a possession.” Those who are by nature possessions are those who have a lesser capacity for reason; these people “are by nature slaves,” Aristotle wrote, “and it is better for them as for all inferiors that they should be under the rule of a master.”40
Out of this protest came a disquieting decision, in 1513: the conquistadors would be required to read aloud to anyone they proposed to conquer and enslave
a document called the Requerimiento. It is, in brief, a history of the world, from creation to conquest, a story of origins as justification for violence.
In 1636, New England Puritans founded a school in Cambridge for educating “English and Indian youth”: Harvard College.
In 1638, the first African slaves in New England arrived in Salem, on board a ship called the Desire that had carried captured Pequots to the West
European slave traders inspecting people for purchase sometimes licked their skin, believing it possible to determine whether they were healthy or sick by the taste of their sweat.
The Body of Liberties includes this prohibition: “There shall never be any bond slaverie, villinage or Captivitie amongst us unles it be lawfull Captives taken in just warres, and such strangers as willingly selle themselves or are sold to us.” Drawing on Roman law, the provision about slavery offered specific legal cover for selling into slavery Pequot and other Algonquians captured by the colonists during the Pequot War in 1637 and for the sale and purchase of Africans—described under the language of “strangers,” that is, foreigners who “are sold to us”—so that there would be no legal question to debate.49
Based on Glasp reader highlights, These Truths resonates most for its sharp framing of America's founding ideals against its founding violence, though the limited highlighter sample tempers the consensus signal.
Glasp AI analysis based on highlights from 3 readers.
Readers seeking a literate, single-volume history of the United States that takes both founding ideals and founding violence seriously. Ideal for students of American history and politics, educators, and general readers who want a narrative anchored in primary sources rather than mythology. Those interested in the origins of slavery, the distinction between nation and state, and how Enlightenment ideas of equality and natural rights collided with conquest will find the most value. No specialist background required.
“An eye-opening history of the United States.”










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