A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a column in which I took exception—humorously, I thought—to the popular American conceit of describing ours as the “greatest nation on Earth” (I proposed Bhutan as a worthier claimant to that title, though I had also toyed with arguing the case for Norway, New Zealand, or Fiji). It may seem strange to object to a phrase that on most occasions probably has only the force of affectionate hyperbole. And, it seems, a few readers were displeased that I had done so. One fellow named Mr. Tuberculosis (or so I deduce from his suggestive online sobriquet “TB”) even suggested I was an ingrate, and implied that I was lacking in a proper appreciation of my country’s enormous contributions to the world at large (which I may well be, come to think of it).
But, in my defense, I think anyone who honestly considers the matter would have to acknowledge that many Americans often use the phrase with a degree of deep conviction that allows little room for irony, less room for the appreciation of the ways in which other cultures are sometimes vastly superior to our own, and almost no room for a proper grasp of the severe limitations of our way of life. Or such is my impression, at any rate. I have to admit, though, I wrote in a state of annoyance, having a few days earlier witnessed a conservative commentator on television using the phrase as a kind of bludgeon with which to abuse a guest on his program.
Whatever the case, I suppose I shouldn’t think it particularly odd that a great many Americans earnestly believe their country to be not only a very fine place indeed, but the very epitome of what any rightly ordered society should be. The United States was, after all, the first nation born out of an ideology (which is not to say it was not born also out of practical economic and political impulses). From the first, even before the Articles of Confederation or the US Constitution had been drafted, even before the War of Independence had been won, we had already issued a Declaration proclaiming to the world what the proper relation should be between any people and its government, and what liberties had been conferred upon all persons by nature and nature’s God; and it is with the date of the Declaration—not the date of the first constitutional convention—that we mark the beginning of our country.
Combine the heady idealism of the age of the “Rights of Man” with the North American Puritan conviction that a new spiritual dispensation had begun with the establishment of the protestant colonies, filter the mixture through the odd sensibility of our indigenous religion (Christian Gnosticism), and naturally what results is a kind of evangelical utopianism, an invincible sense of America’s special providential importance, a pure-hearted desire to convert the world to our unique vision of a humanity set free from sin by the twin bounties of limitless divine grace and inexhaustible consumer choices. If nothing else, no other people on earth seems so buoyantly free of any morbid fixation on its failures, historical or cultural, or so irrepressibly certain that the past is only prologue to a glorious future (if we will but keep the faith).
If it seems that I am being sarcastic here, I assure you that is not my intention. I love my country quite sincerely, as it happens. And while I cannot buy into the doctrine of “American exceptionalism,” I am more than willing to acknowledge everything I think truly exceptional about the United States. In fact, I flatter myself that in many cases I feel a deep adoration towards aspects of America that far too many Americans fail to appreciate with anything like the devotion they deserve.
Not that I want to overlook the obvious advantages to being an American citizen. I quite like the Bill of Rights, for instance; I like being able to speak my mind freely—whether I have anything worth saying or not—without fear of harassment from the authorities, as one cannot do in, for instance, modern Britain or Canada (which, if you have not heard of it, is a country lying just beyond our northern border). And both the idea and the reality of a kind of “trans-national nationality”—of a civil and legal order whose identity has never been a matter of blood and soil, of racial purity or mythical autochthony—inspire a deep admiration in me.
But love of country is most ennobling, I think, when it is most concrete, and when it rises up out local loyalties, particular experiences, and natural customs. Otherwise, it has only the quality of appreciation, or even of reverence, but not of the profoundest emotional attachment. So, well before my gratitude for the rule of law and the constitutional limit on government powers, come a number of more personal fidelities: my love of baseball, Ella Fitzgerald (especially the recordings done for Verve), and the voice of Renée Fleming, for instance. Also Maryland crab cakes (which are impossible to find anywhere but in Maryland), Maryland soft-shell crabs, Maryland crab bisque, Maryland oyster stew, Maryland oyster pie, Chesapeake oysters on the shell, and Chesapeake rockfish (very good when stuffed with crab or served with fresh oysters).
The great American composers of the twentieth century, too: Walter Piston, William Schuman, Aaron Copland, Samuel Barber, Roy Harris, David Diamond, Samuel Barber, Ned Rorem, and so on (especially, just at present, Piston). And the horses of Maryland and Kentucky (particularly Maryland). Louis Armstrong. Baseball again, and Ella, and Renée Fleming. Sinatra’s Capitol years. Jousting (the state sport of Maryland).
Of course, I should not neglect to mention Duke Ellington, Dave Brubeck, and Miles Davis (up to a point). Or the songs of Harold Arlen (America’s greatest songwriter), Cole Porter, and the Gershwins; also the lyrics of Johnny Mercer. And Ella Fitzgerald. Jimmy Rushing also. Renée Fleming and baseball. The films of John Ford (above all) and of Howard Hawks, John Huston, and Preston Sturges. The Marx Brothers, W.C. Fields, Bogart, Ginger Rogers, and Ava Gardner (let me pause on that last one for a moment, in order to heave a deep sigh).
The memory of Brooks Robinson lunging madly at a fair ball veering out of reach into foul territory, gloving it, and somehow throwing across the diamond in time; or of Paul Blair, playing so shallow he could almost turn a double play at second, still running down a deep line drive over his head and catching it on the warning track; and of Frank Robinson hitting a home run with a violence that made one wonder whether the ball had once insulted his mother.
Our marvelous landscapes, of course: the deep deciduous forests of the Appalachians, the forever changing colors of the Chesapeake Bay, the Western mountains and plains and deserts, and all the rest. And there are few sights in nature as glorious as Autumn in North America, especially the Northeast. The keening of coyotes at night, the sweet terse trill of the Baltimore Oriole, the belling of Eastern tree frogs, that uncanny noise the black bear who lives in the culvert behind my house makes. And the greatest of our cities: New Orleans, Charleston, and Manhattan. The sight of the Chrysler Building bathed in crepuscular scarlet. And all the Civil War battlefields.
Our greatest nineteenth century writers, too, of course: Melville, Hawthorne, William James (and occasionally Henry), Thoreau, Emerson, Henry Adams, Crane, Bierce, Twain, and Jones Very (though I confess I am a heretic when it comes to Dickinson, Whitman, and Poe). Our best modern poets: Stevens, Frost, and Wilbur, and sometimes Pound and Lowell. The Adventures of Augie March, the prose of John Updike (though, strangely enough, not the actual novels in which it is found, and certainly none of those god-awful, dismally anerotic sex scenes). Most of Fitzgerald, a little of the very early Hemingway, Raymond Chandler, and all of Nabokov’s American books before Ada.
“Sophisticated Lady” (the greatest popular song ever written), “Who’ll Stop the Rain?”, and “I Shall Be Released” (I would include “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” but it was actually written by a Canadian). The recordings of Yo-Yo Ma and Renée Fleming. Southern courtesy, Northeastern candor, Western independence, and Texans (whatever the hell they are). And so on.
Obviously, the list could continue indefinitely. (I hope I remembered to mention baseball and Ella, however. And Renée Fleming, of course.)
Whether, though, everyone would find this adequate or not, I cannot say. Some might still complain that even the most comprehensive and adoring enumeration of the particularities of America still does not amount to a confession of faith in America as a cause, or America as the great historical exception or new human beginning, or America as the ideal destiny of humankind. And indeed it does not. But it is a genuine expression of great love, nonetheless.
And, I would argue, it has the true shape of all love that is rightly ordered. All true charity—love, that is, purged of selfishness and egoism—begins in attachment to what is most intimate and familiar. This is where the soul acquires its first and indispensable tutelage in love, and from which it then ventures out to embrace ever more of reality without forsaking its first loyalty, extending the circle of its sympathy by analogy to its own primordial affections. It is the mirror image, so to speak, of the bonum diffusivum sui, the divine eros (to use the phrase of Dionysius the Areopagite) that proceeds out from itself to give all things freely, and to draw all things back to itself.
The proper love of country, it seems to me, should have the form of this egressus and regressus: a deep attachment to what is near at hand that is still free from any presumptuous belief in the lesser value of things that are far away, and that is therefore able to grow beyond the local towards the universal, beyond the nation to a larger culture, beyond that to other cultures, and ideally towards the embrace of all humanity and all of creation. That is, at any rate, the only kind of patriotism that I fully understand, and that I find it possible to see as a spiritual virtue. And, I may be wrong, but it seems to me also to be a patriotism that, of its nature, should express itself with a certain seemly humility, and an effortless generosity.
David B. Hart is a contributing writer of First Things. His most recent book is Atheist Delusions: The Christian Revolution and Its Fashionable Enemies (Yale University Press).
Comments:
Same with America. Love of America that depends on America being #1 in the world (in military might or in economic power) is not true love. America was not #1 in the world for most of its existence, and there is no guarantee it will always be #1 in the world.
So what? There is much to love about America -- its freedom, its wilderness, its willingness to be a refuge to those who are prosecuted -- that was, and will be worth fighting for it to remain, just as true whether on not America is #1 or #100 if the world in GDP.
The behavior I am thinking of was a remnant of the sense of courtesy and grace that one finds, for instance, in Abraham's reception of the three travelers. One finds instances of it in histories of Byzantium culture and in the deep roots of high Christian culture. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote of its Germanic expression in the cultured home of his parents. A friend has told me of its expression in mid-20th century Guatemalan cultural life which offered echoes of the glory of old Spain. (I an not unaware that evil cultural elements were present at the same time.)
This combination of intelligence and grace was once [not consistently but sometimes] found embedded in articles appearing in First Things. It was an element, I suppose, of discipline and refinement that has yielded to a certain common coarseness. In the past, carefully reasoned, logical arguments were offered - sometimes with a certain edge. But I do not remember encountering the use of personal insults and sarcasm in the service of an argument until fairly recently. Is it the new "manly"?
It was an element I suppose of discipline and refinement that has yielded to a certain common coarseness.
Ah, yes, irony, the sine qua non of Progressive, Liberal thinkers.
I have honestly considered the matter, and I have concluded that you are wrong.
And finally a question: What does it mean exactly to "embrace of all humanity and all of creation"? Only God can do that!
I am also thankful to God for our country, and for my great good fortune to live in such a place. This means I am also thankful for the men who, doing what they perceived to be God's will, made this country. I suppose one doesn't have to think of the historical circumstances which made our small and local loves possible every day, but there is nothing wrong with being mindful of them, and something ungrateful about forgetting about them entirely.
I think the consciousness of this is at least part of the reason for the great rebellion that is taking place among the people -- people who are accustomed to thanking God and who resent being told that what they consider a gift -- our nation -- is nothing special and nothing to be thankful for. They want to know more about this gift and how it came to be, and it is not a denial of their particular loves, or making an idol of the nation, to have this desire.
At the risk of stating the obvious, choosing which country is the "best" is a very inexact exercise; not unlike choosing the greatest third baseman of all time. You and I know it's Brooks Robinson, but other fans will argue just as passionately that Mike Schmidt or Scott Rolen are more deserving of that accolade.
But when it comes to which country is the "best" for the greatest number of people it seems obvious that America wins. Why? If America is not the best country in which to reside then why do we have the worst immigration problem on the planet? That simple metric explains much about the human condition and America's place in the world.
Sure we share a border with Mexico, but people are besting a gut to get here from all over the globe. America's immense popularity in this regard has no analogue anywhere else on the globe.
We should be offended that finally someone on the right is standing up and making people on the left look like insecure little fools instead of it always being the other way around?
(I would also add that Bhutan, Norway and Fiji would not be near so nice without the United States while we would be not a lot different without them..just stating fact.)
Not sure I follow..I would rather we be respectful of each other to, but it seems strange to go up to a guy who's getting his eye gouged out and demoralize him for even thinking about not fighting fair.
Would God rather you laid there and got your eye gouged out or would he want you to lower yourself to the behavior of your enemy?
I assume you don't know how to read very well. So let me help you with three points.
1) The reference obviously wasn't to Bill O'Reilly (consider the hair).
2) This column argues that you should love your country, not hate it. You seem to have got that part a bit mixed up. You might have noticed--if reading were one of your things, that is--that the whole middle section of this piece is a hymn of praise to things American.
3) Who would disagree with your observation on Norway, Fiji, and Kiwiland? That was not the point.
I don't see how what you're saying is at odds with what this column is saying. Love, gratitude, all of that seems to be there. Who said your country is nothing special and nothing to be grateful for? Certainly not the author of this piece.
The phrase Dr. Hart used was "towards the embrace of all humanity...". Just as Christians should strive to be perfect, even as God is perfect (so Jesus said), charitable souls should strive TOWARDS universal love. Simple enough, isn't it?
As for suggesting that the use of the word "irony" marks out Dr. Hart as some wicked "Liberal, Progressive" thinker, I am amused by the irony. You clearly don't know much about the man.
And he's right about the way certain Americans speak of the greatness of America.
I have known many French Catholics who regarded the French Revolution as an unutterable calamity, who every 21st January attend a Mass of Reparation for the murder of Louis XVI, who detest the Republic and its secular values, would like to see its slogan of “liberty, equality, fraternity” replaced with the true French values of “work, family, fatherland” and refer to its symbol, Marianne, as la gueuse (The beggar-woman)
They were, without exception, passionately proud of, and deeply attached to, the French nation, its culture and its achievements. Not a few of them had defended their country under arms.
Where is the contradiction?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_g78VXusH4
Who has suggested there is a contradiction? I'm confused by your remark. You seem to be saying what this column is saying, but I can't tell if you think you're criticizing the column.
I think you have to put this in the context of the American history of believing that America is a kind of universal paradigm, and the unwillingness of many American opinion-makers to allow for the sort of patriotism you describe. I too have seen people like Sean Hannity being viciously rude to their guests, even guests who are quite defenseless against his rhetorical violence, and then dismissing all their arguments (whether good or bad) with "America is the greatest nation on earth" as though it were a fact about the cosmos that only a cretin or a monster would argue with.
I also suspect that behind this article and the previous one, Hart is really objecting to the way those sorts of slogans have been used to justify the bombing of Belgrade or the invasion of Iraq, but I may be wrong.
You are correct. I do not know Dr. Hart and know nothing about him, other than what he writes. Must one know an author personally before commenting on what he or she writes?
I have nothing against irony, except when it is made into some sort of virtue. Dr. Hart suggests that irony is a virtue, or he implies that the lack of it is . . . well . . . not a sin . . . just stupid. He may or may not be a Progressive Liberal — I don't know. Still, Progressive Liberal "thinkers" have elevated the ironical view of life to a virtue.
The simple faith and patriotism of a good Christian and Catholic has nothing to do with irony.
Again, I agree in so many ways with what Hart says, but…two points.
1) Patriotism refers to love of country, which is not quite the same thing as culture, although they obviously overlap. And by country, of course, we don’t mean simply the land. Man is naturally social but man also has to construct his own government on this fallen earth. And western philosophy practically begins with the observation that the form of a regime, the shape of that government and its laws, forms the souls of its citizens in some way. All this makes culture possible in some fundamental ways, and even helps to shape it. Thus, any love of all these particulars must strengthen your love for the form of your regime, for its government and laws, at least in some way. This is why founders are revered, because they are responsible to some degree for a great amount of good that radiates through time and countless particulars that affect us, the living. And here you do indeed refer to “the idea and the reality….of a civil and legal order whose identity has never been a matter of blood and soil…” as well as the Bill of Rights. Amen.
The problem is, a lot of people these days in conservativish religious land sit on the front porch and talk of how they love local things and deny the idea and reality of what makes those things possible. And some of us take umbrage. As Judy says, love of country is much like the way in which we love God in the sense that, although we do indeed love Him through loving Him in people and places and things, acting rightly these lead us to love Him directly all the more. But we don’t know him directly in a very full way. As St. Thomas Aquinas says, however, we can love in greater proportion than we know. This applies in spades here. The regime is held together in a formal way by the constitution (written and unwritten), and loving that ought to be part of patriotism.
Now, according to the internets, you seem to say in public that you are an “anarchist-monarchist”, etc. Even if this is facetious and a way of getting people to think about the fact that our form of government and “modernity” has increasing flaws, etc., I suppose you could see how this fact and your dire pronouncements on modernity (even if often true) might lead one to think that if you don’t despise our form of our government, you might sometimes be tempted to ignore the connection between the form of our regime and some good stuff as well as bad. But like others here, I’m probably just sick and tired of right and left denigrating the basic principles and laws and ideas that enlivened (and to some extent still do) this nation’s birth and history in the midst of all the good they give us.
That is true. Or almost true: loving one's countries Great Deeds is a legitimate part of healthy patriotism, as long as one remembers that other countries have Great Deeds too.
However one thing Chesterton left out, perhaps because it was not as relevant in his time, was that the sort of patriotism that is dependent on who rules whom is just as common among the less powerful as the greater. Nationalist envy is as pernicious as nationalist arrogance; in the most grotesque nationalist movements it was expressed at the same time. But Chesterton's point is taken. Patriotism should not depend on "ruling the Hindus" or being ruled by them for that matter.
The finest example of a healthy sort of patriotism I have seen in cinema was Chariots of Fire. There athletes of different countries were saluting each others flags and respecting each others loyalties, wielding it into a fellowship of nations dedicated to camaraderie and a healthy youthful ardor that could be competitive without being prideful or hateful. In that movie, for a second you could see patriotism and cosmopolitinism as allies rather then foes.
Um, for over the last century in the academic, intellectual world…(and among the populace many angry movements have come and gone as well)..all of which have slowly had its effect on the cultural and political world, the right and left in this country could almost be said to have fixated on little else but our failures. Howard Zinn’s history books are reprinted for all the kiddos in every Barnes & Noble, and the narrative about our national sins is cut into the stone parts of every mind that comes out of public school. We criticize ourselves endlessly (and often for good reason). This country is set up so that public opinion rules, and opining never ceases. And a good part of it has been criticism. You think they do that in Bhutan? Or any small republic? What about empire…did the ancient Roman school teachers teach their pupils how horrible and corrupt they were to the extent we do? (Okay, so maybe some of those hired greek philosopher types may have…heh). People living their lives out in the midst of this nation do get ticked at all this, because they think, all in all, that it’s a pretty good system at its core, even if it is increasingly corrupted and even if it has made mistakes. They don't blame the system, on the whole. There might be good arguments against the system, but they would have to take into account the very real and non-abstract goods that the folks I'm talking about would point to in their daily lives, and be careful of blaming the American government needlessly for all the sins of our age.
This is why most people who smile at Hannity instead of throwing stuff at the TV may like somethings that he says even knowing he is not the sharpest tool in the shed. They are sick of smarty pants making abstract-y arguments about how horrible their country is. If I have to hear another lonely, disaffected grad student from the right or left wail about "alienation in the modern world" I think I'll vomit. Are there truths to be explored in such sentiments. Surely there are, and deep problems to uncover and confront. But there is also a lot of good out there in daily life, made possible by the US of A in some serious ways.
You do read a lot into the single use of the word "irony." What if I reacted to your talk of "simple faith and patriotism" by saying, "Ah, yes, the virtues always touted by the populist demagogue who wants to make unreflective passivity into a virtue!" You would rightly rebuke me, I assume, for overburdening your words with a meaning that they do not imply. Similarly, all Dr. Hart was saying, it seems to me, was that there are ways of proclaiming American greatness that don't even leave enough ironic distance to allow us to appreciate that our love of country is a matter of personal allegiance and affection, not a license to believe that all the world should want to be like us, or that other nations have not surpassed us in certain realms of accomplishment.
Anyway, to be honest, your willingness to talk about the "simple faith and patriotism of a good Christian and Catholic" as though that were all one thing disturbs me.
Get off the Bhutan kick, will you. Did you really not get that that was a joke? A Playful bit of 'irony' (sorry to use that dangerous word, but I mean it in a benign way). I also think there was nothing at all ironic in his praise of Americans' lack of morbid fixation, given things he's written in the past about the way the British and other Europeans have been converted to a cult of perpetual self-flagellation over the past.
Look, I'm a Brit, but I love America so much that, after 17 years over here, I'm in the process of becoming a citizen. But I also know what Hart is talking about. It is a phenomenon that is oddly American, both a kind of strength and a kind of weakness. It's obvious to anyone who grew up abroad. Back during the lead-up to the Iraq war, all sorts of neoconservative commentators heaped derision and contempt on the French for not wanting to participate, accusing them of a penchant for surrender and a kind of slimy moral laziness. We Brits love taking shots at the French, but I had never seen anything so pointlessly vicious and unfair. It was evidence of indignation that any people would dare to doubt the moral rightness of the American cause, and refuse to send their soldiers to die and kill in that cause. And that is not the only example.
Anyway, I thought this column was very moving as an expression of genuine patriotism, the sort of love that values what is unique and irreplaceable about America. I'm not sure why some of the readers above don't get that. But maybe it's because Hart is essentially right in his argument.
I don't think anyone (or at least not many) confuses love of America with love of the state. God knows I love America a helluva lot more than I love Obama. Having said that, though, as Mr. Hart pointed out, America is founded on ideas, not blood and soil. One of the most important of those ideas is how a government should work. Therefore, pride in our form of government probably forms a more integral part of our love of country than it would in France, which is much older than any existing form of government.
Dear Mr McConnell,
I regret to inform you that I am considerably younger than you are, though not nearly as young as I used to be. The Orioles memories of which I speak are so important to me because they come from the very dawn of consciousness. But, that aside, I certainly don't think anything I wrote calls into question the desirability of life in America for the poor and the oppressed around the world, or the nobility of the United States in making a home for so many of them.
Dear Mr Gibbons,
The Athens of Solon and Pericles became an empire, but was never a nation. As for whether it was driven by "ideology" in the modern sense--well, that's a matter of debate.
Dear Ms Klutz,
I know all of the "divine Sarah's" recordings, and she should have been on the list. But my choice for best recorded song would be different.
Matt,
Sure, no doubt that's true.
Michael,
I did too mention Cole Porter. Forsooth! I don't like basketball, unfortunately, so a list of what I love about America would never include any reference to the game or its players. Call it a failing of sensibility.
Mr Alleyn,
I recognize no connection between your remarks and mine, so I'm afraid I can't answer your objections.
Mr Artium,
You may be right, though satire has--as far as I recall--been part of FT from the beginning. Apparently you object to something I wrote, or that someone wrote, so I apologize. My tendency towards satire is a vice, and leads to all sorts of misunderstandings of my intentions (vide infra). If it was the "Tuberculosis" line that bothered you, I didn't mean it to sound harsh. But mea culpa, nonetheless.
All,
To clear things up, my ill humor regarding "greatest nation" language does come from my reaction to an incredibly brutal and discourteous television interview I witnessed, in which a woman who was saying something quite reasonable and not even terribly "progressive" was interrupted, berated, and abused by a host who used the phrase in a way that, I hope, no one here would approve of. Perhaps I ought not to let personal reactions of that sort prompt me to write things like the column above. So I won't revisit the issue in future. But, just for those who don't appreciate irony in any form, or even the invocation of irony, let me be absolutely clear: I don't really believe that Bhutan (or Fiji, or whatever) is the greatest nation on earth.
Who knew that capital "P" Progressivism was the arbiter by which truth is judged? No doubt Hart himself will now apply for admission to ranks of the Enlightened, while the rest of the knuckle-dragging crowd and mortgage-foreclosing types await their own epiphany.
And people wonder why so many Americans find Hannity and Beck attractive. Consider the equally nausea-inducing alternatives.
Maybe you are right to chasten me a bit re Bhutan, and maybe not, but thank for pointing out that in context Hart is probably saying that comparatively we criticize ourselves less than some other western democracies. Fair enough. Still, we aren't exactly skipping through history whistling the Star Spangled Banner for cripes sake.
I also agree about the unseemly "patriotism" you mention above. I think you and Hart and anyone else are right to criticize unthinking, offensive "patriotism" and find the reasons you cite for why America may do this in a peculiar fashion fascinating. This arises in large part due to what Hart says above about our origins. I think Americans do have to partially hang their hat on their form of government. We don't have a long tradition of being a homogeneous people like other nations. And that can lead to nuttiness and indecency and the opposite of humility and generosity.
But the greatest nation claim is often made on account of a love for what Americans are attached to, and the fact that they see this is made possible by a system of government and laws based on various lived and shared principles concerning human nature. Really. And they see it as successful, which is why likely their ancestors and so many others seem to want to come here. The claim is not usually made historically, as in "this is the best country ever to exist", but taking all things considered at present. I don't think it is wholly irrational, but of course it depends on the criteria one uses to judge governments and ways of life, etc. Serious questions and discussions we all should think about. In any event, it is more than simply a love of one's own. Patriotism ought to be informed with reason too, after all. A love of one's own, left to itself, can take the nasty turn you rightfully complain about.
Sorry to disturb you, but I don't speak of faith and patriotism as one "thing." And I'm not at all sure that a lack of irony translates to "unreflective passivity."
There are plenty of active, reflective people who lack a sense of irony. And remember what Christ Himself said: "Suffer the little children, and forbid them not to come to me: for the kingdom of heaven is for such."
Children lack irony; there is no irony in the kingdom of Heaven.
Thanks for crediting me with a "nuanced approach," but I hope you won't be offended if I decline the gift in part. (Actually, I made only three references to the 60's that I recall; I made far more to the nineteenth century and to the 20's-50's.)
I do agree that the decline of American culture, both popular and high, over the past several decades is disturbing. I do not, however, believe that it has anything to do with tax policy.
I love all the great American sopranos, but I disagree regarding Renee Fleming. Her voice really is the loveliest of the recorded age, whether she's in her fullest Straussian mode or singing bel canto or traipsing through all the meadows of coloratura. I even elevate her above Jessye Norman, which makes me feel a bit sacrilegious.
Anyway, you're being militantly boring and humorless, so why bother arguing?
I would ask those who think as Hannity does: Do you think patriotism a virtue or not? Is it a virtue for everyone? Should everyone be patriotic? I imagine you would say, yes, obviously patriotism is a virtue and only "Liberal, Progressive" people would deny it. OK. So what if you were so unlucky as to be a native of some country other than the U.S., in other words, a country that was not the greatest that ever existed: would be patriotic then? Would you love your country if you were Italian, Japanese, or Polish? If not, then you don't know the meaning of patriotism. If so, then patriotism does not have anything to do with how great one's country is.
I love my late mother and father. I happen to believe they were great people. Were they the greatest people that ever lived? No. John the Baptist, the Blessed Virgin Mary (and, I suspect, one or two others) were better. Does it make me a bad son to say that? Is proper love of parents equivalent to affirming that there have never been any other parents in history as good? How absurd! One should love one's parents (children, brothers, sisters, etc.) even if they are not truly the "greatest ever". If you only love your parents (or children) to the extent that they are "great" or the "greatest", then you are not a good child (or parent), but a scoundrel.
The absurd, bombastic self-congratulation in which Hannity indulges, which is jingoism, not patriotism, is one of many reasons I have never been able to take more than a few minutes of Hannity. Another reason is his near blasphemous adoption of the phrase "let not your hearts be troubled", as though he were Our Lord Jesus Christ.
I am reminded of that wonderful line from the movie "The Flight of the Phoenix", when the German airplane designer says to Jimmy Stewart, who has been acting like a complete jackass for the entire movie, "Mr. Towns, you behave as if stupidity were a virtue. Why is that?" Often, when I watch to Hannity I want to scream that at him.
And if anybody ever tells you anything of the sort, feel free to be offended. Bt since that is not what the column above says or implies, even remotely, it seems like an odd comment to add to the string.
@ HT
Really? You think taxation explains things? So, should Hart have included the IRS on his list? If you look, you'll notice that a lot of his cultural references, especially the literary references, come from a time when there was no income tax at all, and all other taxes were extremely low, and the rich were almost entirely untaxed. So maybe the real lesson is the opposite of the one you derive from it.
I will trust, in charity, that this was merely an oversight.
Not one mention from the lot of ya, of Nascar, bull-riding, OR dirt-bikes! Ya know an Americun by his smell and the vale - the aurora if you will - of dust covering him. It's plain as sunshine that it's a long lonely trail, from your east to greatest America, west of ya!
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture fills,
Like that above.
I don't think of Brooks, speedster for the first fifteen feet and then as slow as an ice truck, leaving the Reds in 1970 agape with wonder as he defined forever what it means to be a third baseman ... Me, I think of Lou Brock, with his good cheer and his Arkansas accent, standing well back in the box, front foot towards the plate, back foot straddling the corner diagonally opposite, flicking the bat to turn on an inside pitch and jerk it over the right field wall... Or Bob Gibson, flailing his arms and legs as if he were trying to fly, following through on a pitch ...
I'm proud of the ol' Declaration of Independence, and I do think that the Constitution can sort of be reconciled with Catholic social teaching on subsidiarity; but I'm too much of a conservative simply to cheer such things as the direct election of senators -- especially when I'm not sure about that odd mechanism called "voting". I love my country too much to want to see American-style democracy replicated all over the world, even if that could be done, which I rather doubt. I like Americans, their cheerfulness and generosity, and of course their incomparable games, the chess-like baseball and football...
Yet sometimes I wonder if I love an America that has long been fading. My family and I spend the summer in a fishing village in Nova Scotia, every year. Now, there is a lot about Canada that I find absurd. Their news is more homogeneous than ours, by far; talk radio is nearly nonexistent; the people meekly submit to whatever their arrogant Supreme Court dictates; their ministries of sport push that dullest of all the oblong games, soccer, over baseball and football; their schools imprison the poor kids from late August to July 1 of the following year. And yet -- I know far more of my neighbors in that little fishing village than I do in my neighborhood in America, where no one is home, and no one visits.
Look at European history - how can pre-eminence in economy, science, or even art, benefit a nation, if such achievements are ultimately in the service of its boastful pride? Aren't true leaders the servants of those they lead?
Again apologies to Mr Alleyn.
Thank you for your responses. America is, indeed unique, in that its civic institutions are precisely what constitutes it as a nation - as Mr Hart says, not founded on blood and soil, or a pre-existing culture, for that matter. The institutions came first and the culture followed.
My remarks were not intended as a crticism of American patriotism, simply an expression of a benighted European's puzzlement, which you have kindly helped to remove.
Sports fans routinely shout "we're number one," even when their team is clearly far from the best. They know that; they are not oblivious to the facts, but their team remains the best in their eyes -- and must be so for them to truly be fans. How many times has Mr. Hart seen anyone shouting "we're number two"?
I don't think Hart has missed that point at all. Rather, I think you miss the point he's making regarding militant expressions of American exceptionalism, and the quasi-religious fervor that often animates them. If you are unacquainted with American ideologues of that sort, you are blessed. But, in the weeks leading up to these columns, plenty of examples of such idiocy appeared in the chatterers' press and on TV, especially in debates over the "Ground Zero Mosque". There are plenty of Americans who don't just believe that America is the best ol' country in this big ol' world, but that it is genuinely the historical terminus of all sane societies. Watch Sean Hannity bluster and foam for a few hours some time about American greatness.
Dr Hart evidently does not believe in the doctrine of American exceptionalism, but nevertheless believes America is exceptional and deeply loves his country for any number of reasons, which he could list endlessly and which encompass countless familiar particularities. He then suggests that this is a healthy and charitable form of patriotism, which gives one the capacity at once to remain loyal to one's own country while also generously appreciating all the reasons why other peoples might love their countries equally well, and might believe that in some respects their countries have cultural or social riches that the US lacks.
Now, that seems like an eminently patriotic, eminently traditionalist point of view, and even seems like a plausible Christian account of patriotism. Why does this seem so obvious to me, and seem so silly to A Citizen or Mr Alleyne? Is it because, being British, I was drawn to America by its particularities, not by its civic religion of exceptionalism?
First, learn to spell "flippant."
That may be the silliest, most tone-deaf comment I've ever seen posted on an FT string. Maybe you think Ella Fitzgerald and baseball are esoteric tastes, that Maryland is a distant hidden kingdom known only to an elite inner circle, or that "Who'll Stop the Rain" is known only to the Illuminati; but, to me, it seemed like a lover enumerating the most obvious features of the beloved.
Anyway, if you think there were broadsides against "rubes" here, or that his remarks on American exceptionalism were flippant (sorry, I mean flipant), rather than statements of a serious point of view, then you clearly read very carelessly.
You're right! Esoteric stuff indeed. I had never heard of Raymond Chandler, John Ford, Charleston, or the Chrysler Building before reading this article. And baseball: no one but dilettantes knows anything about that recondite pastime. And who the hell are these Sinatra and Bogart blokes? That went WAY over my head too. In fact, the whole piece was over my head. I mean, why would anyone give voice to his patriotism by praising the actual things he loves about his native country? We all know that true patriotism lies in taking seriously claims about 'exceptionalism' while remaining proudly ignorant of or indifferent to such abstruse things as crab cakes and Ava Gardner (who?). You're right: a total show-off.
You wound me to the quick--to the very quick! Vain? I? My mirror and the radiantly gorgeous face that always peers at me out of its silvery depths tell me it is not so.
You are quite wrong, incidentally, about my not being able to resist replying to comments. Until very recently, I never even looked at them. But then I scrolled down from an excellent column written by Dr Stephen Barr (who is a busier man than I am) and saw that he had taken the time to respond to several of his readers' questions and remarks, and it occurred to me that this might be a more polite way to behave. But I can stop doing it, if it seems intrusive.
I had not thought my list was all that esoteric, though. I'm glad I forgot to mention Johnny Unitas, as that might have been one arcane reference too many. Perhaps mention of Walter Piston and William Schuman, whose works aren't as widely known as they should be, was off-putting to you. (Sorry, but that's the sort of music I like best.) But W.C. Fields, Ginger Rogers, Brooks Robinson...?
Really, I'm not sure how one can express one's love for anything without listing some of the attributes one loves about it. And it does raise a question, if you are out there to answer it. What list would you produce? Because, if you think Ella Fitzgerald or John Ford is an esoteric taste, then I have to wonder what you know about America in the first place.
Oh, one last thing: I don't have a Facebook page. It always seemed to me that those who do might be just a little vain. You know?
The things you list as endearing are for the most part matters of taste, not principle. No doubt you could've said many fine words about freedom, opportunity, industry, generosity, hope, and you may argue that these things underly the refined aesthetic which is your American experience, but as such is it derivative, parrasitical, flabby and indulgent.
DBH a few years ago I read and reread your article Tsunami and Theodicy in these pages and I was in awe. It sent me back to Job and the first objection to the existence if God in Aquinas' five proofs. It grappled like Jacob. But now you are too clever for your own good. There is no probity, there is no holy modesty.
"Our cultural treasures are derivative, parasitical, flabby and indulgent....."
Do you intend to post the remainder of your fatwa?
I got this piece, and I didn't see anything smug in any of it. I've often wondered if Christians are really allowed to be patriotic at all, and this piece helps me. It describes patriotism as a natural love that's open to charity, but that doesn't require one to shout slogans and behave badly toward the French or others. It really moved me. I even thought it had a humble quality to it, morally serious without being preachy.
Frankly, I think Bissonnette is a bit absurd.
You know, you're really a pain in the old lower back, mate. You complain about a 'sycophantic echo chamber', but what really happened was that a number of people reacted to the load of nonsense you were peddling, and you got your little feelings hurt. Thanks for insulting us along with Dr Hart; it's good company, I say. I don't know where you get the right to question his probity or 'holy modesty', or to call us sycophants for disagreeing with your silly little tantrum; but you need to adjust your manner. You also should also learn to read with a bit more insight and a sense of humour.
Lord, what fools these mortals be. (That's Shakespeare, by the way...sorry to be pretentious and vain.)
No one loves anyone or anything for his/her/its principles. That's a dumb remark. One doesn't love on principle. You can admire principles, you can revere them, you can share them, but love grabs onto solid things. It comes earlier and goes deeper. I admire the principles of the Bill of Rights and the ideal of "trans-national nationality" too, just like Doctor Hart. But I *love* America for South Carolina barbecue, Leadbelly, Old Time Music, baseball, Johnny Cash, and (yes) Ella Fitzgerald. And for a whole lot of other reasons too. Do you understand what love is, big B.?
Lighten up. That hound won't hunt.
For Heaven's sake, Joseph, quit while you're behind.
Best,
Richard
Are you aware that your last name is the same as the last name of the protagonist in the W.C. Fields film It's A Gift? One of the most remarkably amusing films ever made?
That, I'm afraid, is the only thing I find interesting about your comments.
But, just to correct you, the things I mentioned were not merely matters of taste. They are objects of deep affection, which bind me to my country's native culture with an immediacy that is, for the most part, ineffable. They are the kind of shared loves that makes a community out of what otherwise would be merely a crowd. When one praises them, one enters into a kind of civic liturgy. If you failed to grasp what I was saying--which evidently you did--then the fault is partly mine, but only partly. As for probity or modesty, you haven't a clue what you're talking about; you're merely being a pompous and infantile nag.
Interesting that David Hart, a brilliant Orthodox Christian theologian, essentially lines up with the views of Solzhenitsyn, the greatest writer of prophetic stature in the twentieth-century, who, like Hart, sees the Orthodox faith as central, along with unpretentious, authentic local government and assorted cultural excellence.
How delightful it was to discover that we share an aesthetic sensibility! Autumn, Preston Sturges, Aaron Copland, Ava Gardner, Nabokov, and classic jazz -- wonderful, wonderful stuff.
Have you ever considered writing some arts criticism for First Things? I think it would be instructive and enjoyable.
I hope Dr. Hart doesn't become averse to the idea of interacting with his readers due to the bizarre and wildly inappropriate comments of this Bissionnette character.
And has it crossed anyone else's mind that Mr. Bissonnette might just be Mr. Hart in drag?



Perfect!