Alexander Mackenzie: The Forgotten Pioneer of the American West
I wrote this article to illustrate how the same silly talking points have been used throughout many generations, whether the premise of the argument is good or not. It got thinking about Lewis and Clark though, because they were basically just another government contractor and I wanted to help put their voyage into historical context. People often talk highly of Lewis and Clark as great adventurers who conquered the unknown, but government agency is rarely first to market.
Enter Alexander Mackenzie, a Scotsman and fur trader, who is a figure that should resonate much louder in the history of North American exploration. In 1793, a full decade before the famed Lewis and Clark expedition, Mackenzie became the first European to cross the North American continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. While many recognize Lewis and Clark as the intrepid explorers of the western frontier, they were, in reality, following in the well-trodden footsteps of Mackenzie, a man driven not by government sponsorship but by his own entrepreneurial spirit.
The contrast between Mackenzie’s journey and that of Lewis and Clark highlights an often overlooked truth: individual initiative frequently outpaces bureaucratic achievement. Mackenzie, motivated by the commercial interests of the fur trade, set out on a grueling expedition that took him through uncharted wilderness, relying on his wit, resourcefulness, and partnerships with Indigenous peoples. He made it to the Pacific Ocean, inscribing on a rock, "Alex Mackenzie, from Canada, by land, the twenty-second of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three."
Yet, despite Mackenzie’s groundbreaking achievement, it was the Lewis and Clark expedition—funded and directed by the U.S. government—that became immortalized in American history. There’s a lesson here: government propaganda is effective. The reason Lewis and Clark are household names while Mackenzie is relatively obscure has less to do with their accomplishments and more to do with how those accomplishments were framed by government institutions.
Lewis and Clark’s expedition was part of Thomas Jefferson’s vision for American expansion. Their mission was well-funded, well-documented, and later glorified by government institutions. Schools, cities, roads, and even rivers were named in their honor. They are portrayed as the brave adventurers who opened the West to the American people. But here’s the catch: by the time Lewis and Clark embarked on their journey in 1804, not only had Mackenzie already completed a transcontinental trek, but the lands they "discovered" were already inhabited by thriving Indigenous civilizations. These people had been living in, navigating, and mastering the land long before any European set foot on it.
So, what did Lewis and Clark really achieve? If we strip away the romanticized veneer of state-sponsored storytelling, we find that their journey was more akin to a bureaucratic assignment than a heroic odyssey. They were tasked by the government to map out territories, establish trade routes, and make political inroads with Native tribes, all in the service of national expansion. It's as if we’re expected to applaud them for doing what was essentially their job—a job that, let’s not forget, Mackenzie had already done a decade earlier.
The irony is clear. Celebrating Lewis and Clark for their western exploration is a bit like tipping attendants at the DMV for processing your paperwork. Sure, they got it done, but the system was already in place, and, in this case, others had already done the work. Mackenzie, driven by the free market's demands for efficiency and opportunity, ventured west not because of government mandate but because of his own volition. The delay between Mackenzie’s journey and Lewis and Clark’s points to the inefficiency of government bureaucracy—Mackenzie had already unlocked the trade potential of the west, yet it took a decade for U.S. bureaucrats to catch up.
Lewis and Clark’s enduring fame is an example of how government-backed narratives can overshadow the achievements of private individuals. The American public has been taught to view Lewis and Clark as the ultimate pioneers, while Mackenzie’s story has been relegated to the footnotes of history. This selective glorification shows how government-sponsored expeditions, backed by taxpayer dollars and wrapped in nationalistic rhetoric, can distort the way we remember the past.
Mackenzie’s legacy is a reminder that the market had already facilitated the exploration of the West. Private traders, settlers, and Indigenous nations were engaging in commerce and cultural exchanges long before any government-sanctioned expedition was deemed necessary. The mythos surrounding Lewis and Clark serves as a stark example of how government likes to place itself at the center of progress when, in reality, it often lags behind the independent actions of the market and individuals.
In a western American light, Mackenzie represents the rugged individualist, the self-made explorer who thrived without the need for government handouts or accolades. His journey was driven by real-world incentives—profit, survival, and discovery—rather than the pomp and circumstance of state-sanctioned glory. Mackenzie proves that, when left to their own devices, individuals can—and often do—outperform the slow machinery of government.
So, the next time you hear about the bravery and brilliance of Lewis and Clark, remember Alexander Mackenzie, the man who did it first, and consider the untold stories of those whose innovations are too often overshadowed by government-backed legends. Mackenzie’s tale is not just one of adventure but of the free market’s inherent ability to foster exploration, innovation, and achievement long before the bureaucrats even get out the door.
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