The Lee Resolution

It was June 7, 1776, a heavy summer day in Philadelphia. The streets simmered with tension, and inside the State House, the Second Continental Congress sat on the edge of history. The men in that room had argued, pleaded, and petitioned for peace, but now the moment had come to talk about war. Not just war with muskets, but a war of ideas, a war of separation. That morning, a tall Virginian named Richard Henry Lee rose to speak. What he offered wasn’t diplomacy. It was a clean and final break from Britain.

Lee got right to the point. “That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States,” he said. There it was. No more monarch. No more Parliament. No more hedging. The colonies, Lee argued, were already free. They just needed to say it out loud and mean it.

He wasn’t improvising. The resolution came straight from the Virginia Convention, which had given Lee full instructions to carry their message to Congress. What he delivered were not the words of a lone radical. They were the voice of one of the oldest and proudest colonies declaring that enough was enough. The resolution didn’t stop with independence. It also called for seeking foreign alliances and drafting a plan of confederation to hold the colonies together. Lee was setting the stage not just for a break, but for a nation.

Now Richard Henry Lee was no backbench agitator. He came from one of Virginia’s great families, educated in England, polished, articulate, and fearless. Long before the shots fired at Lexington, Lee had opposed the Stamp Act and the Townshend duties. He helped organize the Committees of Correspondence, a vital communication web for patriots across the colonies. His politics were grounded in principle, but his timing was pure strategy. When the moment came, he seized it.

But Congress wasn’t ready. At least not all of them. Some delegations, like New York and New Jersey, were under orders not to vote for independence. Others, like Pennsylvania and South Carolina, were still trying to reconcile with the Crown. The vote was postponed. It was the political version of taking a deep breath.

In the meantime, Congress did something smart. They formed three committees. One would draft a declaration explaining Lee’s resolution. That job went to a team of five: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston. The second committee would lay out plans for foreign alliances. The third would begin work on a confederation agreement to bind the colonies together. Congress hadn’t voted on Lee’s resolution yet, but they were acting like it was inevitable.

Jefferson, known for his careful prose and quiet intellect, was chosen to write the draft declaration. While he wrote, the political groundwork continued. Supporters of independence worked behind the scenes to shift votes, ease fears, and prepare for the moment of truth. It was less revolutionary than it was surgical. They knew they couldn’t afford a fractured front.

On July 1, Congress returned to the issue. The vote was close. South Carolina wasn’t convinced. Pennsylvania was still divided. Delaware had two delegates locked in a tie, and New York still hadn’t received new instructions. That night, while most of Philadelphia slept, Caesar Rodney of Delaware was riding through the night, pushing through miles of stormy countryside to cast the vote that would break Delaware’s deadlock. Two Pennsylvania delegates simply stayed home the next day, allowing the independence vote to pass by majority. Edward Rutledge helped shift South Carolina to a yes vote.

On July 2, 1776, Congress voted. Twelve colonies approved Richard Henry Lee’s resolution. New York abstained, waiting on word from their provincial congress, which would come a few days later. The United Colonies were now free and independent states.

John Adams, always good for a dramatic prediction, wrote to his wife Abigail that July 2 would be remembered as the great anniversary festival of America. He described a future filled with fireworks, bells, and parades. He wasn’t wrong about the celebration, but the date that stuck in American memory was July 4, when the Congress formally adopted Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence.

The reason is simple. The Declaration was written beautifully. It captured the spirit and ideals of the revolution. But the legal break, the actual motion to separate, came on July 2. That was Lee’s doing. His resolution was the moment of decision. The Declaration was the explanation.

The rest of the Lee Resolution moved forward in stages. The second part, the call to seek foreign alliances, was answered that fall when Congress approved the Model Treaty, a framework for dealing with European powers. By 1778, thanks to diplomacy and shared hatred for Britain, France had joined the fight on America’s side. The third part of the resolution, a plan for confederation, took longer. The Articles of Confederation were finally adopted by Congress in 1777 and fully ratified in 1781.

Lee’s impact didn’t end there. He continued to serve in Congress, even becoming its president under the Articles of Confederation. He remained wary of centralized power. When the new Constitution was proposed in 1787, Lee opposed it. He feared it lacked sufficient protections for individual rights. He wanted a Bill of Rights and feared a distant federal government would become just as oppressive as the one they had cast off.

Some called him a pessimist. Others saw him as a prophet. In the end, the Bill of Rights was added, and Lee’s concerns helped shape the conversation that followed. He went on to serve as a U.S. Senator from Virginia, though his health eventually forced him into retirement.

Richard Henry Lee isn’t as famous as Jefferson or Franklin or Washington. You won’t see fireworks on June 7. But maybe you should. That was the day he stood up and demanded liberty. He didn’t ask politely. He didn’t hedge his words. He said the colonies were free and dared Congress to catch up. And they did.

We remember the Fourth of July because of a signature and a parchment. But the truth is, July 2 was the day America made up its mind. And June 7 was the day Richard Henry Lee gave it the courage to do so.

Let’s not forget the man who gave us the words that changed the world. Let’s not forget the resolution that made us free before a single signature made it official. America didn’t become a nation with ink and calligraphy. It became a nation when one man stood up, spoke plain truth, and refused to be silenced.

June 7, 1776. That was the day liberty was declared out loud. And it’s time we gave it its due.