Last week I mentioned the peculiar form that patriotism can take in Germany. We Americans aren’t so different though, for we too have a peculiar relationship to the term “patriot.”
In America, to question someone’s patriotism is considered an insult, while to praise their patriotism is a compliment. Yet strangely, the only people who refer to themselves, completely without irony or qualification, as patriots are old veterans, old conservatives, and certain pro athletes in New England.
Of course, people who do not fit into those three categories sometimes self-identify with that label. But when they do it’s almost always accompanied by an asterisk, denoting—whether expressed or implied—that the use of the word comes with a qualifier:
*Sure, I love my country but I that doesn’t mean I support ________. (the President, the war, etc.)
*That doesn’t mean I think America is better than other countries.
*Of course I would never, ever serve (nor let my child enlist) in the military.
*But I’m nothing like those Bible-thumping, flag-fetishizing, NASCAR-loving, types of patriots.
However, some people are more straightforward their mixed feelings. A Japanese reporter once inquired of filmmaker Michael Moore, “You do not seem to like the U.S., do you?” Moore’s response sums up the sentiment behind the patriot’s asterisk: “I like America to some extent.”
Unfortunately, the asterisk isn’t completely without warrant. Just as the existence of NAMBLA has made it impossible to say one is a “lover of children” without the need to provide clarification, the co-opting of patriot by nativists, xenophobes, and domestic terrorists has caused some Americans to distance themselves from the label.
It is also true that the term patriot has to compete with other terms that we might rightfully believe take precedence. Christians, for example, not only owe allegiance to the state but also, and more importantly, to the Kingdom of God. Even when we consider ourselves loyal citizens of the U.S., we also embrace a form of universal cosmopolitanism in cleaving to the invisible, catholic Church.
Whatever unique and individual allegiances we might have, though, we corporately share a divided loyalty between America as our birthplace (or adopted home) and America as an ideal, a set of principles embodied in such documents as the Constitution and Declaration of Independence. While our bifurcated loyalty can make patriotic sentiments complex and dissonant, it can also prevent a love of America from devolving into blind nationalism.
This tension sets America—and our identity as a nation—apart in a peculiar way. As historian Walter Berns notes,
The late Martin Diamond had this in mind when, in an American government textbook, he points out that the terms “Americanism,” “Americanization,” and “un-American” have no counterparts in any other country or language. This is not by chance, or a matter of phonetics—Swissism? Englishization?—or mere habit. (What would a Frenchman have to do or believe in order to justify being labeled un-French?) The fact is, and it was first noted by the Englishman, G.K. Chesterton, the term “Americanism” reflects a unique phenomenon; as Diamond puts it, “It expresses the conviction that American life is uniquely founded on a set of political principles.”
Most Americans have so internalized this concept of America as both a geographic place and an abstract ideal that we sometime forget how radical it must appear to the rest of the world.
Consider, for example, the tiny minority of Mexicans and Mexican-Americans who support reconquista, the “reconquering” and return of California, New Mexico, and other parts of the United States to Mexico. If their dream were realized it would simply make Mexico a much larger, third-world nation. You can move the border northward but without the culture, ideals, laws, and principles of America, San Diego is just another Tijuana. Presumably, though, the re-conquistadors would still want to take the land even though it would mean having to immigrate further eastward to find work.
The beauty and genius of our principles, though, is that there is nothing that makes them exclusively American. They are ideals that are not only available to all people but also, as political philosophers from Thomas Jefferson to Francis Fukuyama have contentiously argued, likely to eventually be adopted by all nations. To be a patriot then it to align oneself with all generations of Americans—past, present, and future—who claim that all men are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights.
In his eulogy for the Kentucky politician Henry Clay, Abraham Lincoln gave expression to what should be an applicable description of all American patriots:
He loved his country partly because it was his own country, but mostly because it was a free country; and he burned with a zeal for its advancement, prosperity and glory, because he saw in such, the advancement, prosperity and glory, of human liberty, human right and human nature. He desired the prosperity of his countrymen partly because they were his countrymen, but chiefly to show to the world that freemen could be prosperous.
Berns says that for Clay (and Lincoln), “country and principle were one and the same.” Perhaps in Clay we can find a useful model for ourselves; a way to be a patriot without an asterisk.
July 5th, 2010 | 11:13 am
“The beauty and genius of our principles, though, is that there is nothing that makes them exclusively American.”
They may not be exclusively American, but they are exclusively Judaeo-Christian. Thus the likelihood of these principles being embraced by devout Muslims or convinced pagans is exactly nil.
July 5th, 2010 | 11:15 am
Contrary to Walter Berns, I can think of at least one analog to “Americanism” in another country: Japan.
“What would a (Japanese boy) have to do or believe in order to justify being labeled un-(Japanese)?”
According to my Japanese history teacher, from his own experience:
He could be part of a Christian family.
He could kick a can down the gutter of a street past an old person’s house.
He could, after becoming a scholar, dissent from a colleague’s assertion that the Japanese digestive system is very different from everyone else’s.
And these are for someone who is ethnically Japanese. Gaijin might as well not even try.
Now granted, the concept of “Japaneseness” seems to be more culturally and ethnically bound than the more purely political “Americanism”, but it is a similar concept. And before World War II, it was definitely political.
July 5th, 2010 | 11:44 am
Yes, but…
I still don’t see the point of particularly desiring the prosperity of someone from Arkansas (which I have never visited) than the prosperity of some from from Armenia (which I have never visited).
July 5th, 2010 | 2:05 pm
To preclude all such asterisks is to make the meaning of patriotism monstrous. To love in an adult manner is to desire for one’s subject that which is good. If we accept, as we must, that the term “goodness” has moral connotations, then our love must have as many asterisks as our nation has wrongs. And of course, it has many. The right to abortion is enshrined in our common interpretation of the Constitution, and we are fighting a war (Iraq) that any honest application of Just War Theory would have forbidden.
GK Chesterton said other, more interesting things about Patriotism, about how saying “country, right or wrong” is tantamount to saying “my mother, drunk or sober,” and about negative patriots and positive patriots, and how they both roles are necessary. It’s just a shame that the author’s neoconservatism leads him in the direction it does.
July 5th, 2010 | 2:37 pm
The term “Patriot” is a lot like the term “humble.” It is wonderful if other people describe you as such, but it is arrogant to proclaim the title on yourself. Personally, I feel that I have not done enough for my country to earn the title of Patriot. I am of age to serve in the military, but I have not served in any of the branches of the military during this time of conflict. This does not make me unpatriotic. We have a volunteer military for a reason, but it would feel presumptious for me to call myself a patriot while young men my age are serving this country in 120 degree weather in foreign lands where they are in constant danger. There are other ways of giving back, namely through charity or public service. I hope that one day I have given enough back to this country I love to earn that title. Until then, I only hope to make the cut sometime in the future.
July 5th, 2010 | 6:14 pm
One may love one’s country but patriotism is the last refuge of the used car dealer.
July 5th, 2010 | 8:23 pm
Speaking as an Australian, I am sometimes bemused to hear American friends declare that they live in the greatest country, or what not. But is that so different from hearing a friend describe his fiancee as the “most beautiful girl in the room”? It’s an expression of familial love, and that’s a good thing. Indeed, there are few things more off-putting than to suffer at a dinner party while a bore describes why Australia is the worst of all places, why (pick your tyrrany of choice) is not such a bad place, even commendable, and our robust democratic society is really facism in disguise…
The idea of America is certainly very appealing, and I fell in love with the people while serving with them in the Middle East (pace, Matt) – but we love our own because they are our own. My second cousin, whom I have never met, would be welcome in my home in a way in which other strangers would not; the suffering, or well-being, of my fellow countrymen affects me more than that of foreigners. This does not make me a bigot or demonstrate that I have disordered priorities; indeed, if I did not love my own, I doubt that I could love anyone.
This would be true even for someone living under a despicable tyrrany; our love is not contingent on an acceptable political order, and we would continue to love our nation, even if we were working to change the government or its laws.
Of course, a nation may or may not be encompassed by the borders of a given state; patriotism for a Kurd must be a conflicted thing: but the general rule holds, I think.
July 5th, 2010 | 9:42 pm
“Now granted, the concept of “Japaneseness” seems to be more culturally and ethnically bound…”
That’s an understatement! Perhaps you do not appreciate that your example only underscores how different Japan and America are: Unashamed racism vs. an expansive and welcoming idealism.
July 5th, 2010 | 10:43 pm
Thus the likelihood of these principles being embraced by devout Muslims or convinced pagans is exactly nil.
Emphasis on devout. A very good friend of mine is the son of an Indian Muslim from Bombay — his father has U.S. citizenship and is probably more American than some native born people are.
Of course, India is one of the those countries whose principles align very nicely with America’s so Indians — whether Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Jain, Buddhist, Christian or Jewish — who believe in the legacy of Nehru and Gandhi don’t have much trouble also embracing Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln.
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