The Legacy of the American Revolution—A View from South of the Rio Grande

As Americans reach the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, the national mood appears festive on the surface, but beneath the celebrations lurks a dangerous flirtation with extremism. Disagreement is no longer just partisan; it has mutated into a fierce populism, tearing at both sides of the aisle. From both the left and the right, political adversaries are increasingly re-imagined as existential enemies, creating a toxic environment where condoning violence has become alarmingly common.

One need not look far to see the consequences of extremist positions taking hold and political institutions breaking down. Just south of the Rio Grande, Mexico offers a firsthand cautionary tale of how navigating this dangerous path ultimately leads to stagnation and decline.

The United States and Spanish America shared deeply intertwined historical roots before their breaks from Europe. Both were vital components of vast Atlantic empires, and both ultimately rebelled against what they perceived as despotic overreach from overseas crowns. Yet, after independence, their paths diverged dramatically.

It is easy to forget that in the mid-1600s, Mexico’s GDP per capita was about 1.3 times richer than that of the American colonies. In many ways, New Spain, which would later become Mexico, was one of the most important economic hubs in the world, with the Port of Acapulco handling trade with Asia and Veracruz managing trade with Europe. It was a land of immensely wealthy silver mines in Zacatecas and Guanajuato and fertile agricultural valleys. Today, the tide has turned completely, and the United States is roughly 3.6 times richer than Mexico.

What is the smoking gun behind this divergence? The undeniable fact is that the United States overwhelmingly resolved its internal disputes through political means, whereas Spanish America resorted to violence. The historical record is stark. Since 1776, the United States has experienced only one major internal war: the Civil War, which lasted four years. In comparison, if you add up all of Mexico’s internal conflicts, you get 46 years of warfare. Mexico has spent roughly one out of every four years of its independent history fighting itself.

As new republics, both countries faced nearly identical challenges, but they handled them differently.

Consider the role of religion. The U.S. Constitution, through the First Amendment ratified in 1791, established freedom of religion and barred the federal government from establishing a national church. Within 15 years of the Declaration of Independence, the framework for peaceful religious pluralism at the national level was largely settled.

In Mexico, however, civil wars between Conservatives and Liberals over religion dragged on from the nineteenth century until the conclusion of the Cristero War in 1929, with a second uprising lingering until 1940. Mexico swung violently back and forth between extremist positions, moving from the Conservative demand to maintain the Catholic Church as the sole official religion to the Liberal exaggerated reaction of expropriating church property and closing monasteries, convents, and religious schools.

Another important issue was the balance of power between central and local governments.

The United States navigated this through the fierce but peaceful public debates between Federalists and Anti-Federalists, which ultimately shaped and ratified the U.S. Constitution.

Spanish America, including Mexico, conversely bled over the question from its very inception. The Texas Revolution, for instance, was a violent reaction to Mexican President Santa Anna’s abolition of the federal Constitution of 1824 to concentrate power in the central government. Other regions, like Zacatecas and Yucatán, also rose in arms in a desperate bid to preserve their local autonomy.

In game theory, a prisoner’s dilemma game occurs when two parties would both be far better off choosing a cooperative strategy, but both have a strong incentive to “defect” and refuse to cooperate.

This is exactly what crippled Mexico and the rest of Spanish America. The short-term payoffs of uncooperative behavior, such as seizing the immense wealth of the Church or becoming a regional military caudillo, were incredibly high, and the early institutions were too weak to counterbalance these incentives. Neither the Conservatives nor the Liberals were willing to compromise and find a middle ground; both factions engaged in perpetual conflict. Spanish America paid a devastating price for this extremism and its effects still echo in its economies and fragile institutions today.

Conversely, the wisdom of the American founders relies on their ability to design a system robust enough that a cooperative strategy prevailed most of the time. They designed a framework where political rivals, whether Federalists and Democratic-Republicans then, or Democrats and Republicans today, could sit at the table and resolve their issues through the political process rather than the battlefield.

Moderation, compromise, and consent are what truly made America great. Flirting with extremists and condoning violence is not. Americans must remember that their hard-won political peace is a rare and remarkable achievement. One that is neither self-sustaining nor bulletproof. It must be safeguarded, nurtured, and never taken for granted.