The Deep Dive, Benjamin Franklin's Join or Die
and America's first viral meme. In this deep
dive, we explore the surprising history behind
Benjamin Franklin's iconic Join or Die political
cartoon. Originally published in 1754 during
the French and Indian War, this simple woodcut
of a severed snake transformed into the ultimate
symbol of American unity and the American Revolution.
We unpack the original colonial superstition
behind the image, its surprising French origins,
and how Franklin actually lost control of his
own messaging during the Stamp Act Congress.
Whether you're a history buff fascinated by the
13 colonies or just curious about how political
propaganda evolves, join us as we decode the
legacy of JOIN or die, from Paul Revere's printing
press to modern -day pop culture. Welcome to
the Deep Dive. Grab a seat, because today's journey
is perfect for you if you love a really good
aha moment. Oh, totally. We've got a great one
today. Yeah. I want you to picture an 18th century
colonial newspaper. Usually a pretty dry read.
Exactly. You open it up. You're expecting the
usual polite mercantile news, maybe some shipping
schedules. Or those really dry reports from the
local assembly. Right. But instead, right there
on the page is the stark It's violently chopped
into pieces, and hovering right beside it is
this chilling, almost threatening ultimatum.
It honestly sounds like the promotional poster
for a modern horror movie, doesn't it? It really
does. But it's actually the earliest known pictorial
representation of colonial union by an American
colonist. Which is wild. And today our source
is a comprehensive Wikipedia article on Benjamin
Franklin's 1754 political cartoon, Join or Die.
That's right. And our mission for this deep dive
is to trace how this really simple doodle in
the Pennsylvania Gazette basically became a viral
sensation. The first American meme, really. Exactly.
We're going to see how it morphed through multiple
wars and how it literally continues to be inked
onto people's bodies centuries later. And if
you can visualize an 18th century colonial printing
press in your mind right now, that's where we
need to be. Because to understand why this matters
to you today, we have to look at the power of
visual propaganda. Oh, for sure. We need to see
how a single image can completely shape public
opinion. And ultimately, outgrow its creator's
original intent. Okay, let's unpack this, because
I was looking at the original woodcut in our
source material, and what strikes me right away
is the anatomy of this famous snake. It's not
what people think. No, it's entirely different.
When you and I think the early United States,
we immediately default to the 13 colonies. Right,
the original 13. So, logically, you'd think this
chopped -up snake is cut into 13 pieces. But
it isn't. No. There are only eight segments.
And that is a really crucial detail that often
gets overlooked. Franklin wasn't trying to draw
a comprehensive geographical map. He was making
a very specific point. A highly targeted political
statement, yeah. If you look closely at those
eight segments, they're labeled with the initials
of specific colonies or regions. But there are
some glaring omissions. Right, like for instance,
New England. It isn't broken down into Massachusetts,
Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island.
No, they are all lumped together. Yeah. Into
one single segment right at the head of the snake.
Exactly. And Delaware doesn't get its own piece
either. Because it was tied to Pennsylvania.
Right administratively. So it's completely hidden
inside the Pennsylvania segment. And then there's
Georgia. Completely ignored. Left out of the
drawing entirely. Which is so interesting. It
is. Because at that specific moment in time,
Franklin was focusing solely on the colonies
that shared a very specific strategic interest.
An emerging American identity. Exactly. He was
only aiming his message at the people he actually
needed to persuade. Which brings up honestly
the weirdest part of this whole thing for me.
The snake itself. Yeah. Why a severed snake?
I mean, was Franklin just trying to pick the
scariest, most intimidating animal he could think
of to grab people's attention? Not quite. And
this is where Franklin's absolute genius for
mass communication shines. OK. He wasn't just
trying to be edgy. He was tapping directly into
this bizarre, widely believed folk superstition
of the era. A superstition about snakes. Right.
On the 18th century frontier, there was this
prevailing myth that if a snake was cut into
pieces, it wasn't necessarily dead for good.
Wait, really? Yes. The folklore claimed that
if you managed to gather all those severed pieces
and put them back together before the sunset...
No way. ...the snake would literally resurrect.
It would come back to life. People actually believed
a chopped up snake could magically fuse back
together. Many did. Or, at the very least, they
intimately understood the cultural reference.
Wow. You have to remember... life on the colonial
frontier was deeply intertwined with nature and
local legends. So it was a metaphor everyone
just got. Exactly. By using this specific superstition,
Franklin bypassed all that high -minded political
rhetoric. He spoke directly to the rural, everyday
colonists in a visual language they instantly
recognized. That is so smart. The message was
clear. Right now, we are severed and dead. But
if we put ourselves together before it's too
late. Before the sun sets. We can become a powerful
living force again. That is brilliant. But I
think we need to clarify what that setting sun
actually represented in 1754. Because it's heavily
misunderstood. It is. When I first saw join or
die, my brain immediately went to the American
Revolution. Naturally. I assumed it was a battle
cry against the British crown. But in 1754, the
revolution was still decades away. Decades. When
Franklin published this in May of 1754, it had
absolutely nothing to do with fighting the British.
It was the exact opposite. Yes. The cartoon was
published against the backdrop of the French
and Indian War, which was the North American
theater of the massive global conflict known
as the Seven Years War. Right, so in this fight,
the British Empire, the 13 colonies, and their
Native American allies were facing off against
the French and their Native American allies.
So the colonists weren't looking east across
the Atlantic toward London. No, they were looking
west toward the frontier. Because American colonists
were deeply invested in gaining control of the
lands west of the Appalachian Mountains. There
was a lot of money to be made in land speculation.
And a huge desire for new settlements. But the
colonies were completely fractured. And utterly
divided. They couldn't agree on whether to actually
risk a full scale war with the French to secure
that territory. And that fracture is the exact
disunity the snake represents. Yes. You had different
colonial governments, different priorities, and
a lot of reluctance to fund mutual defense. And
our source points out, through the writer Philip
Davidson, that Franklin was this master propagandist.
He really saw the profound potential of political
cartoons to stir public opinion. He recognized
a looming existential threat. If the French colonies
weren't checked, they would permanently encircle
and threaten the security of the British colonies.
Which is why Franklin proposed the Albany Plan
of Union. Right. And that was his attempt to
create a unified colonial government just for
mutual defense. Precisely. It was not about seeking
independence. It was about administrative survival.
He just wanted them to pool their resources.
Form a unified council. Organize a coordinated
military response. The cartoon was his visual
argument that this union was absolutely necessary
to avoid being picked off one by one by the French.
And you can actually hear how exasperated Franklin
was getting with his fellow colonists. Oh, his
writing from that time is so frustrating. Right.
In the editorial that he printed right alongside
the snake, he basically vents about the enemy's
advantage. He wrote that the French were highly
confident because the British colonies were in
a disunited state. He complained about the extreme
difficulty of getting so many different colonial
governments to agree on any speedy defense. Well,
the French had the massive advantage of being
under, as he put it, one direction with one council
in one purse. He is practically begging the colonies
to get it together before they were destroyed.
Yeah. What's fascinating here is that in trying
to make that desperate plea, Franklin might have
borrowed from a really surprising source. Oh.
This quintessential American symbol might actually
have French origins. Wait, really? The ultimate
symbol of American unity came from France. It's
highly probable. The source notes that Franklin
may have been inspired by an engraving from a
French emblem designer named Nicolas Varian.
Nicolas Varian. Okay. Decades earlier, in 1685,
Varian published a book meant for scientists
and artists. And inside that book, is an engraving
of a snake cut in two. You're kidding. And the
legend beneath it reads, un serpent coupé en
deux se rejoindre au mourir, which translates
to, a snake cut in two, join or die. Exactly.
That is almost verbatim. It is. And Varian snake
was part of a broader collection of Latin, Spanish
and Italian mottos, which suggests the imagery
of a severed snake needing to rejoin might have
even more ancient classical origins. That just
goes to show that IDs rarely exist in a vacuum.
Never. The greatest communicators borrow, adapt,
and repurpose existing cultural symbols to fit
their immediate needs. So Franklin took a European
emblem, crossed it with an American frontier
superstition, and created something entirely
new. He did. Here's where it gets really interesting,
though, because the story of how this image was
used doesn't stop in 1754. Not at all. Let's
fast forward a bit to the 1760s, specifically
around 1765 during the Stamp Act Congress. This
is a huge turning point. Right. The trajectory
of this cartoon takes a massive turn. The British
Parliament passed the Stamp Act, which was a
direct tax on all printed materials in the colonies.
Legal documents, magazines, playing cards. And
crucially, newspapers. And if you want to understand
why this meme exploded, you have to look at who
that tax angered the most. The printers. The
printers. By taxing paper, the British Crown
directly infuriated the exact people who controlled
the flow of information. They owned the printing
presses. Right. So when the colonies decided
to push back against the Stamp Act, the media
was already primed and motivated to lead the
charge. And that's when the join or die snake
goes viral all over again. But the meaning is
completely hijacked. Yes. American colonists
pull out Franklin's old woodcut and reprint it
in a publication called The Constitutional Current.
But this time they aren't using it to persuade
the colonies to unite with Great Britain against
the French. No, they're using it to persuade
the colonies to unite against the British crown.
It is a stunning reversal of intent. The exact
same image. But an entirely flipped political
target. And this hijacking highlights a really
important dynamic about how we interpret media.
A symbol only means what the audience collectively
decides it means. Right. If you look at the diverse
viewpoints of the era, the image acted almost
like a political inkblot test. How so? Well,
The Patriots, the ones protesting the Crown,
looked at this snake and associated it with classical
ideals. Okay. To them, the snake represented
eternity, vigilance, and prudence. It was a noble
creature demanding unity for the survival of
liberty. But what about the other side? The Loyalists,
the colonists who supported the British government,
looked at the exact same image and saw something
completely sinister. They hated it. They viewed
it through the lens of biblical tradition, where
the serpent is the ultimate symbol of guile,
deceit, and treachery. Wow. Two opposing sides
looking at the exact same arrangement of ink
on paper seeing their own distinct realities.
That inkblot test analogy is perfect. And the
irony here is that Benjamin Franklin himself
was caught right in the middle of it. He was.
He actually hated. this new radical use of his
cartoon. You really did. During the protests
against the Stamp Act, Franklin was actually
over in London and he was advocating for a much
more moderate political policy. He believed in
diplomacy and reconciliation. He didn't want
radical uprising, but his own drawing was out
there fueling the fires of rebellion. Because
of that initial cartoon, the British government
viewed the constitutional current as a highly
treasonous publication. So Franklin is panicking.
He was alarmed. He lost control over his own
narrative, so he tried to put the genie back
in the bottle. Right. In 1766, he designed and
published a completely new counter -cartoon.
Titled, Magangne Britannia, Her Colonies Reduced.
And what did that one look like? Tell them about
this one. He shifted away from the snake entirely.
He drew a female figure representing Britannia,
leaning against a globe, but with all of her
limbs violently cut off. And the severed limbs
were labeled with the names of the American colonies.
So he was trying to pivot the visual metaphor.
Yes, to warn Parliament. He was saying, if you
keep pushing these harsh policies, you will literally
dismember your own empire. He was urging caution
on both sides. But it didn't work, did it? No.
Because once a meme goes viral, you can't just
unpublish it. The colonial printers had essentially
open -sourced his original design. That's a great
way to put it. Yeah. The printing presses of
the 13 colonies functioned very much like early
social media networks. Because there was no strict
copyright preventing it. Exactly. And because
carving a woodblock was relatively straightforward
for a skilled printer, the image was easily reproduced.
It was the 18th century equivalent of retweeting
and remixing. It really was. And it mutated as
it spread. Our sources show that shortly after
it resurfaced during the Stamp Act Congress,
variations popped up all over in New York, Massachusetts,
Virginia, and South Carolina. And the text didn't
even stay the same. Right. In places like New
York and Pennsylvania, the phrase join or die
was altered to say unite or die. The spread was
just relentless. In New York and Pennsylvania,
printers ran the cartoon continuously, week after
week, for over a year. It just became this ubiquitous
part of the colonial visual landscape. Burned
into the public consciousness. And as the actual
Revolutionary War approached, it was adopted
by some of the most famous figures in American
history. Like Paul Revere. Yes. In July of 1774,
Paul Revere, who was a highly skilled engraver
in addition to his midnight writing. Right, obviously.
He took the cartoon and altered it to fit the
masthead of his newspaper, The Massachusetts
Spy. Putting it on the masthead, that's prime
real estate. It's the front door of the paper.
That means it was the official logo, staring
you in the face every single time you picked
up a copy. The severed snake had been fully absorbed
into the DNA of the American Resistance. So what
does this all mean? Why should you listen and
care about an old cartoon? Because symbols are
powerful, shape -shifting tools. And their usefulness
rarely ends when a specific war is over. True.
The join... or die snake, proved so potent that
it transcended the revolutionary era entirely.
It became a permanent fixture in the American
visual vocabulary. Whenever a crisis of unity
arose, the snake reappeared. Like during the
American Civil War in the 19th century. Yes.
When the country tore itself apart, the image
was resurrected. And astoundingly, it was heavily
utilized by both the Union and the Confederacy.
Both sides. Both sides of a brutal, bloody civil
war looked at Franklin's snake and claimed it
as their own exclusive symbol of righteous unity.
They just altered the labels on the snake segments
to fit the states they were appealing to. It
really just proves the point about it being an
inkblot test. The image is a vessel. You just
pour whatever political cause you want into it.
Exactly. And that phenomenon hasn't stopped,
even today. This 270 -year -old doodle is literally
etched into modern culture. And into modern skin.
Yes. The transition from colonial woodcut to
modern tattoo is a massive testament to the image's
staying power. Our source material highlights
how join or die has become a popular tattoo today.
And it's fascinating because you see this image
cross completely different modern political and
cultural lines. And I think it's really important
to pause here and say directly to you listening,
we're just reporting the facts found in our source
material as examples of the image's legacy. Right,
absolutely. We are maintaining absolute neutrality
here. We aren't endorsing any political viewpoints,
right wing or left wing. We're merely highlighting
how this symbol persists today. on very different
public figures. Exactly. Because on one hand,
you have the comedian and late -night host Craig
Ferguson. Right. He got the snick tattooed on
his right forearm back in 2009, right after he
became a naturalized United States citizen. For
him, it seems to be a celebration of joining
the American experiment. And then on the other
hand, the source notes that current United States
Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth... also has
the cartoon tattooed on his right forearm. It's
a striking contrast in personal backgrounds and
public roles. It really is. And it perfectly
illustrates the dual nature of these historical
symbols we are talking about. People across the
entire political spectrum look at this colonial
doodle and find their own distinct personal meaning
in it. A comedian celebrating his naturalization.
And a military veteran turns Secretary of Defense.
Both can look at a chopped up snake and find
profound significance. We're observing a historical
inkblot test playing out in real time, completely
removed from the eight specific colonies Franklin
originally intended to persuade. If we connect
this to the bigger picture, it is astounding
to trace the lineage of this image. It really
is. We started with a localized, somewhat gruesome
frontier folk superstition about a snake resurrecting
before sunset. Right. Benjamin Franklin harnessed
that superstition, combined it perhaps with an
old French emblem, to support an administrative
defense plan during the French and Indian War.
And then the printers hijacked it. Flipping it
into a revolutionary icon against the British.
From there, it survived the centuries to become
a battle cry for both opposing sides of the American
Civil War. And today it lives on in pop culture
and modern tattoo parlors, fundamentally separated
from its original, highly specific political
context. It really was the first American meme
long before the Internet, long before algorithms
dictated what goes viral. A striking image paired
with a catchy, urgent slogan captured the public's
imagination. It was shared, altered, remixed,
and completely repurposed by different factions
to serve their own agendas. Franklin basically
released the open source code for American political
propaganda. He did. This raises an important
question, and one I hope you will mull over long
after you finish listening today. Let's hear
it. When you put an idea, a piece of art, or
a message out into the world, who really owns
its meaning? Wow. We just saw how Benjamin Franklin,
one of the greatest, most persuasive and strategic
minds of the American Enlightenment, was completely
powerless to control the narrative of his own
simple doodle. Totally powerless. Despite his
best efforts to pull it back and urge moderation,
the public took it and ran with it. They made
it theirs. If a genius like Franklin couldn't
stop his artwork from being hijacked by the viral
networks of the 18th century, how can any modern
creator, artist, or public figure expect to control
their own messaging in today's age of endless,
rapid -fire information sharing? They probably
can't. Once an idea leaves your mind and enters
the public square, it belongs to the public.
For better or for worse, they will decide what
it means. That is such a fascinating thought
to leave on. You might create the symbol, but
the audience creates the meaning. Thank you so
much for joining us on this deep dive today.
We hope you enjoyed tracing the incredible, shape
-shifting history of the join or die snake as
much as we did. Keep questioning the media you
see around you, keep looking for those surprising
historical connections, and above all, keep that
curiosity alive. Until next time.