Ask an average American to name five key events in their nation’s history, and it’s likely the Pilgrims will come up. A study conducted a few years ago revealed that many Americans rank the Pilgrims among the top moments in U.S. history, right alongside the Revolutionary War, the Declaration of Independence, and the Civil War. In fact, the Pilgrims came in at number seven, a surprising spot considering their relatively late arrival. Abram Van Engen, a co-author of the study and an English professor at Washington University in St. Louis, finds this curious. He notes that the Pilgrims, though famous, were not among the earliest to shape the country’s foundations.
Before the Pilgrims, Native Americans, Spanish settlers in St. Augustine, and early Europeans in Jamestown were already part of the narrative. However, the Pilgrims’ story — one of religious persecution, perseverance, and self-governance — resonates with many because it presents a simplified origin myth.
At the core of this myth is the famous Thanksgiving tale: Pilgrims and Native Americans sharing a peaceful meal in 1621. Cognitive psychologist Henry Roediger, another co-author of the study, explains that this story persists because it conveys an image of harmony, often captured as the two groups singing „Kumbaya” around a campfire. While historical evidence suggests that the Pilgrims and Native Americans did share a harvest celebration in the fall of 1621, the myth overlooks the tumultuous context surrounding their relationship, including the deadly diseases and violent conflicts that devastated Native populations before and after the event.
Despite the well-documented complexities of history, this simplistic narrative endures. Van Engen suggests this phenomenon is driven by the way human memory functions. Memory, as opposed to history, thrives on storytelling — a process that sacrifices facts in favor of unity and simplicity. National origin stories, in particular, stick because they support a sense of collective identity. Fixing these myths can risk disturbing national unity, making them deeply ingrained.
The Thanksgiving story is not unique to the United States. Sociologist Chana Teeger points out that most nations have their own founding myths. These “heroic” narratives, while often oversimplified, are central to how societies form their collective memory. However, as countries reckon with darker aspects of their pasts, scholars like Roediger are increasingly questioning how to balance national pride with the need to confront historical injustices.
The Role of Memory
Cognitive science offers insight into why certain myths endure. The human brain is wired for narrative. Psychologists argue that people are “cognitive misers,” relying on simple, clear stories to avoid being overwhelmed by complexity. When it comes to the Thanksgiving myth, this „kumbaya” version is much easier to recall than the complex, often uncomfortable historical realities.
The story of the 1621 Thanksgiving, for example, involves significant hardships. At the time, the Wampanoag people had suffered catastrophic losses due to an epidemic brought by earlier European explorers. Meanwhile, the Pilgrims struggled to survive in the harsh New England environment. Their alliance — which provided mutual benefits — was not an act of goodwill, but a pragmatic response to shared struggles. However, the peace was short-lived. Over the next few decades, the rapidly growing European settler population encroached on Native lands, leading to violence and displacement.
As social studies educator John Bickford points out, the simplified narrative casts the settlers as „the good guys,” which leaves little room for the ugly truths about colonial violence and displacement.
The Thanksgiving myth began to take shape nearly 200 years after the Pilgrims’ arrival. Initially, Thanksgiving was a loose, informal occasion, celebrated by various European settlers for different reasons. In 1789, George Washington declared a day of thanksgiving, but it wasn’t yet a national holiday. By the 1820s, when the United States was still young, calls for an official holiday gained traction. In 1827, Sarah Josepha Hale, an influential editor, advocated for a unified Thanksgiving holiday to bring families together, a sentiment that would grow during a period of industrialization.
In 1863, amid the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a national holiday, hoping to foster unity. Over time, the Pilgrims began to feature more prominently in Thanksgiving proclamations, particularly after World War II, when they were cemented as symbols of American resilience and idealism. The Pilgrims’ role in these proclamations, as political scientist Judd Birdsall observes, increasingly overshadowed the complex reality of Native American history.
The Thanksgiving narrative continued to evolve, and by the 1980s, references to Native Americans began to emerge in presidential speeches. Presidents such as Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan acknowledged Native contributions, but their mentions were often brief and did not confront the historical injustices that Native communities faced.
Rewriting America’s Story
The Thanksgiving myth, like many national origin stories, has deep roots, and challenging it is difficult. Yet, as cognitive scientist James Wertsch notes, there is growing recognition in the U.S. that it is time to question these narratives. The publication of The 1619 Project by The New York Times, for instance, redefined America’s origins by centering the arrival of enslaved Africans, rather than the Pilgrims, as the starting point of the nation’s history. This shift has sparked debates over how to teach history and whether the United States can reconcile its identity with its painful past.
The question of how to balance national unity with historical truth remains an ongoing challenge. As Wertsch puts it, the American story is still in the “messy middle” of its own narrative arc, with no clear resolution to issues like racism. The American story, he suggests, is still being written.
