Of Memory and Our Democracy: Why Colin Powell’s Forgotten Essay Matters More Than Ever

Of Memory and Our Democracy: Why Colin Powell’s Forgotten Essay Matters More Than Ever

Ever feel like we’re losing our collective grip on what this country is actually about? Honestly, it’s a weird time. We argue over statues, we fight over textbooks, and sometimes it feels like "history" is just a weapon we throw at each other. But back in May 2004, a man who had seen the absolute best and worst of the American machine sat down to write something that feels like it was whispered from the future.

That man was Colin Powell. And the essay was titled Of Memory and Our Democracy.

Most people remember Powell for the uniforms, the "Powell Doctrine," or that incredibly complicated moment at the UN before the Iraq War. But if you want to understand the soul of the guy—the Bronx kid who became the first Black Secretary of State—you have to look at how he viewed memory. To Powell, memory wasn't just a dusty filing cabinet in the back of the brain. It was the literal fuel for a functioning democracy.

The Core Message: Why We Remember

"Of Memory and Our Democracy" wasn't some dry, academic paper. It originally appeared in USA Weekend just as the World War II Memorial was being dedicated in Washington, D.C. Powell was at the height of his fame and, let's be real, facing plenty of heat for the ongoing war in Iraq. Yet, he chose to write about the rituals of remembrance.

He starts with a story that’s kinda relatable to anyone who grew up with parents who insisted on "Sunday best." He’d go with his sister, Marilyn, and their parents to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. They’d visit family graves. As a kid, he didn't care about the "solemnity" of it all—he was just stoked to have a day off from school.

But as he grew up, those visits morphed into a realization. Democracy is fragile. It survives because we choose to remember the people who paid the bill for it.

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A Tour of the Soul

Powell used the essay to describe a fascinating moment when he took a Soviet General, Sergei Akhromeyev, on a tour of America’s monuments. Think about that for a second. The top American soldier taking his Cold War rival to see the sights.

He didn't take him to the Pentagon first. He took him to:

  • The Jefferson Memorial: To show him the "why"—those words about all men being created equal.
  • The Lincoln Memorial: To show him the cost—the "new birth of freedom" born from a bloody Civil War.
  • The Vietnam Veterans Memorial: To show him the names. The individuals.

Powell’s point was simple: Our democracy is etched into stone because if we forget the sacrifice, we lose the "why."

The "Pottery Barn Rule" and the Weight of History

You’ve probably heard the phrase "If you break it, you own it." That’s the famous Pottery Barn rule Powell supposedly told George W. Bush before invading Iraq. While the store itself says they don’t actually have that policy, the sentiment was pure Powell. It was rooted in his memory of Vietnam.

See, Powell was a Vietnam vet. He saw what happens when a country goes to war without a clear goal or the support of its people. He carried that memory like a heavy rucksack his entire career. In Of Memory and Our Democracy, he hints at this burden. He mentions how he thinks about the young men and women he sent into harm's way every single day.

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It wasn't just "history" to him. It was a lived, painful reality.

Democracy as a Living Organism

Powell argued that monuments aren't for the dead. They’re for us. He wrote about the 168 empty chairs in Oklahoma City and the piles of shoes at the Holocaust Museum. These aren't just "sad things to look at." They are warnings.

He believed that a democracy that forgets its mistakes—or its triumphs—is a democracy that’s basically walking blind. If we don’t remember the Civil War battlefields or the 54th Massachusetts Regiment (the Black soldiers who fought for a country that didn't even recognize their full humanity yet), then we don't understand the price of the "more perfect union" we're still trying to build.

The Nuance We Often Miss

Let’s be honest. Powell’s legacy is complicated. Some people see him as a hero; others see him as the guy who lent his credibility to a war based on faulty intelligence.

But here’s the thing: Powell himself acknowledged that the military—and the country—doesn't always get it right. He talked about the Army’s struggle with racism and the "horrible things" that happen in war, like My Lai. He didn't believe in a "perfect" history. He believed in an accountable history.

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In the essay, he writes that our monuments "tell us a great deal about America’s commitment to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all." Note the word commitment. It’s a verb. It’s an ongoing job.

Why This Matters in 2026

We’re living in an era of "memory wars." We’re fighting over what should be taught in schools and whose statues should stand in the town square. Powell’s perspective offers a middle path. He wasn't interested in "whitewashing" the past, but he also wasn't interested in tearing it all down without replacing it with something better.

He saw the ROTC—the program that gave a C-average geology major a shot at greatness—as a "meritocracy" that proved the American Dream was alive. He wanted us to remember the system works when we participate in it.

Actionable Takeaways from Powell’s Philosophy

If we actually take "Of Memory and Our Democracy" to heart, how do we live differently? It’s not just about visiting a cemetery once a year.

  1. Read the "Other" Side of the History: Powell was a huge fan of reading deeply. His personal reading list included everything from Bloods: Black Veterans of the Vietnam War to memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant. Don't settle for the sanitized version of history.
  2. Practice "Civic Rituals": Whether it's voting, volunteering, or just taking the time to explain to a kid why a certain monument exists, these small acts keep the "memory" alive.
  3. Check the Small Things: One of Powell’s famous "13 Rules" was to check the small things. In democracy, the small things are the local elections, the school board meetings, and the way we talk to our neighbors.
  4. Embrace Perpetual Optimism: Powell called optimism a "force multiplier." Even when the "memory" of our democracy is painful, he believed we have the tools to fix the reflection in the mirror if we don't like what we see.

Final Thoughts

Colin Powell passed away in 2021, but his obsession with the intersection of memory and democracy feels more relevant than ever. He knew that a nation is only as strong as the stories it tells itself. If we tell ourselves stories of hate and division, that's what we'll become. But if we remember the "unquenchable thirst for peace and freedom" that he saw in the eyes of veterans and citizens alike, we might just have a chance.

He didn't want us to just look at the past. He wanted us to use it as a map.


Your Next Steps:
To truly engage with Powell’s legacy of memory, start by visiting the Colin Powell School for Civic and Global Leadership website or picking up a copy of his autobiography, My American Journey. If you're in D.C., skip the flashy tourist spots for an hour and sit at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. Read the names. Think about the "why." That's exactly what the General would have wanted you to do.