The words echo through time — “Remember Goliad!” Less known than its counterpart “Remember the Alamo!” but just as powerful in its impact on the Texas Revolution and our collective identity as Texans. As we mark another anniversary of the Goliad Massacre on March 27, we are reminded of one of the harshest lessons in Texas history: surrender often comes with a terrible cost.
In that spring of 1836, Colonel James Fannin and nearly 350 Texian soldiers found themselves surrounded by Mexican General José Urrea’s forces at Coleto Creek. After a valiant fight and believing they could secure favorable treatment as prisoners of war, Fannin negotiated what he thought was an honorable surrender. The Mexican forces, however, had other plans.
On Palm Sunday, March 27, 1836, on direct orders from General Santa Anna, the Mexican soldiers marched the Texian prisoners out of Goliad in three columns. In the fields around Presidio La Bahía, without warning, they opened fire at point-blank range. Those who survived the initial volley were clubbed or stabbed to death. Over 340 Texians were executed that day in cold blood, their bodies left unburied.
The contrast between Goliad and the Alamo remains stark in our history. While the defenders of the Alamo chose to fight to the last man, Fannin believed that surrender would spare his men. In both cases, the end was tragic, but Fannin’s decision haunts us most because it reminds us of something fundamental about liberty that our forebears understood all too well.
To be clear — I don’t fault Fannin for his choice. War forces impossible decisions on honorable men. But history demands we learn from these moments, especially as we stand at our own crossroads in Texas today.
The Goliad Massacre stands as a stark reminder that sometimes trusting those who have demonstrated no reason to be trusted comes at the ultimate price. This isn’t about lingering bitterness over historical wounds. Rather, it’s about understanding that when a political entity demonstrates, through repeated actions, that it has no regard for your rights or wellbeing, there comes a time when surrender to that entity becomes more dangerous than resistance.
Today, as Texans, we face our own Goliad moment. No, there are no troops surrounding us demanding our capitulation. The siege today is more subtle — it comes in the form of innumberable Federal laws, administered by millions of unelected bureaucrats. It manifests as politicians we didn’t elect forcing policies on us that we don’t want. This is our modern-day siege.
Some well-meaning voices tell us we should “surrender” to this reality. They say we should accept that this is simply how things are, that we should continue attempting reform from within a broken system. “Don’t rock the boat,” they urge. “The costs of independence are too great.”
But Goliad teaches us that surrender also has its costs. When we surrender our right of self-government, we surrender the very liberty that Texians died for at both the Alamo and Goliad. The path of least resistance often leads to the heaviest burden. The point is that capitulation to a system that no longer serves Texas comes with its own set of consequences that grow more severe with each passing year.
Even stone gives way to water given enough time and pressure. The Federal superstate grows more bloated, more inefficient, and more removed from the will of the people with each election cycle. Our window for peaceful, legal self-determination narrows as the debt grows, regulations multiply, and the centralization of power continues unabated.
The men at Goliad didn’t know that Sam Houston would defeat Santa Anna at San Jacinto just a month later. They couldn’t see that their sacrifice would fuel the rage and determination that would win Texas its independence. Today, we have the luxury of historical perspective. We know that Texas stood as a nation among nations for nine years. We know our ancestors proved that Texans can govern themselves.
The modern TEXIT movement isn’t born from hatred or narrow provincialism. It’s born from the same spirit that drove those early Texians — a belief that government governs only by consent of the governed, and that when that consent is withdrawn, the people have the right to chart a new course.
As we remember those who fell at Goliad, let us also remember what they fought for — not just against Mexican tyranny, but for Texas liberty. They didn’t die simply to exchange one distant master for another. They died believing in a free and independent Texas.
The question before us is not whether surrender is easier than resistance. History has already answered that question for us. The question is whether we are willing to surrender the future of our children and grandchildren to a system that has demonstrated, time and again, its contempt for Texas values and Texas prosperity.
Remember Goliad. Remember that the path of surrender is not always the path of safety. Sometimes, as our ancestors knew, liberty demands that we stand our ground and say to those who would rule us from afar: Texas must be defended and liberty maintained.
The time has come for Texas to once again lift its head and stand among the nations.
