As America prepares to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, we have an opportunity to reflect not only on how far we’ve come, but on how we got here. The anniversary should be more than a celebration of our founding. It should be a reminder that America’s greatest achievements have come from our willingness to learn–from history, from science, and from one another.

We cannot sustain democracy without history. We cannot address climate change without science.

Both democracy and science depend on the same thing: knowledge accumulated over generations. They are built on observation, experience, trial and error, research, and the willingness to learn from mistakes instead of repeating them.

Too often, we discard hard-earned lessons. Ideas that history has repeatedly shown to be destructive — the spoils system giving political jobs to cronies, fascism, antisemitism, racial segregation under Jim Crow, and protectionist policies that have often done more harm than good — reappear because each generation forgets why earlier generations rejected them. Likewise, we ignore decades of scientific evidence about climate change and then act surprised when communities face stronger storms, floods, droughts, wildfires, and rising costs. Forgetting history and ignoring science are two versions of the same mistake.

The central promise of American democracy is that all people are created equal and that political authority ultimately resides with the people. But equality requires something difficult of us. As historian Timothy Snyder has written, democracy asks us to live in a constant state of inconvenience. It requires us to recognize that our own experiences are not universal.

Human beings naturally assume that what we have lived is what everyone else lives. Our own experiences shape us most deeply. Learning from the experiences of others takes more effort–but it is essential.

That challenge has become greater as the generations that experienced World War II pass away. Today, no major world leader has personal memories of fighting fascism or witnessing the devastation of global war. Without the combined protection of education and lived experience, societies become vulnerable to forgetting — and repeating — the mistakes of the past.

The same is true for climate change. Most of us experience only the weather where we live. A flood, drought, hurricane, or heat wave can seem like an isolated event. Science allows us to learn from millions of observations collected across the globe over decades. It expands our perspective beyond our own backyard, just as history expands our understanding beyond our own lifetime. Climate science is, in many ways, history written in ice cores, tree rings, ocean temperatures, and atmospheric measurements. It tells us what has happened so we can make wiser decisions about what comes next.

We are experts in our own experiences, but we are also limited by them. The genius of democracy is that it creates institutions where many different life experiences contribute to better decisions. That is why representative government matters. Leaders with identical backgrounds cannot govern as effectively as a body that includes veterans, people with disabilities, parents raising children alone, religious minorities, immigrants, rural and urban residents, scientists, teachers, business owners, and workers from every walk of life. Each sees challenges and opportunities that others might miss.

Sometimes democracy asks us to accept small inconveniences for a greater good. Accessible parking spaces may be less convenient for those who do not need them, but they create opportunity for neighbors whose daily lives differ from our own. We retire school mascots after learning they demean Native peoples. We stop using language or jokes that diminish women or minorities. We provide children with breakfast and lunch so they can learn. We carry reusable shopping bags, reduce single-use plastics, and conserve energy because we understand the damage pollution causes to wildlife, waterways, and future generations.

These are not burdens. They are examples of allowing new knowledge to change our behavior.

America has led the world not because we have been perfect, but because we have been willing to improve. The Constitution itself is a record of learning from experience. Under the Articles of Confederation, the national government lacked the authority to solve many of the nation’s problems. When farmers in western Massachusetts rose up in Shays’ Rebellion, the inability of the government to respond effectively convinced many Americans that the young republic needed a stronger framework. The Constitution was born from that lesson.

Even then, the founders recognized that they had not gotten everything right. Many Americans refused to support the new Constitution unless it included explicit protections for individual liberty. Their concerns led to the adoption of the United States Bill of Rights, guaranteeing freedoms of speech, religion, the press, assembly, and due process. The Constitution became stronger because Americans listened to criticism instead of dismissing it.

Experience continued to improve the system. After the election of 1796, John Adams became president while Thomas Jefferson, his fiercest political rival, became vice president because the original Constitution made no distinction between votes for the two offices. The dysfunction that followed led to the adoption of the Twelfth Amendment to the United States Constitution, requiring separate electoral votes for president and vice president. Years later, Adams and Jefferson reconciled, and both died on July 4, 1826 — the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

Our history also includes darker lessons. Ending slavery did not end inequality. Nearly a century of Jim Crow laws denied millions of Americans rights the Declaration had promised. The Civil Rights Movement did not erase that history; it confronted it, helping the nation move closer to its founding ideals. We study those failures not to assign blame, but to recognize warning signs and avoid repeating them.

The same pattern applies to science. Every major environmental protection we take for granted today — cleaner air, safer drinking water, healthier rivers, the recovery of endangered species–came from studying evidence, acknowledging mistakes, and changing course. Climate change asks us to do what Americans have always done at our best: face facts honestly, adapt, and improve.

As we celebrate America’s 250th birthday, our greatest challenge is not choosing between the past and the future. It is using the past to build a better future.

History teaches us how to preserve freedom. Science teaches us how to preserve a livable planet. Both ask us to look beyond our own experience, to learn from those who came before us, and to leave the next generation wiser than we were.

If the United States is to thrive for another 250 years, our patriotism cannot rest solely on pride in what earlier generations achieved. It must also be measured by our willingness to preserve what they entrusted to us, to correct what they left unfinished, and to pass on a nation that is freer, fairer, and more resilient than the one we inherited. That has always been the American experiment. It should remain our promise to the generations yet to come.

Jean Ambrose is a student of history and a founding member of Mid-Ohio Valley Climate Action.