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Three days ago, the United States of America celebrated it’s two-hundred and thirty-third anniversary. It was celebrated in the conventional way; there were parades and fireworks, cookouts and family gatherings. Those who live close enough to their families joined together to honor liberties we possess here, the way of life we’ve forged. We remembered, to some extent anyway, our shared history, shared heritage, shared problems, and shared future. It was essentially day in which the United States, all fifty of them, renewed the bonds of community and union between themselves, waved the flag, and recalled that we’re all in this together.
I did not post that day.
It’s no secret that I have…difficulty with patriotism, at least patriotism here in the United States. I’m certainly not immune to it, inured to its effects, but it does warrant a great welling of skepticism and discomfort. It’s never been anything I’ve felt with particular force, but rather have brought a great deal of aplomb to the entire thing, enduring it where and when I must, but otherwise not giving it a great amount of thought. I am American, for whatever that’s worth; I always have been, and to spend much time reflecting on that never made much sense to me, at least until those years after September 11, 2001 brought patriotism to a strange and dangerous place.
As far as I could tell, patriotism assumed a decidedly virulent form, whereupon it became closely associated with political policies and support for the Administration. It assumed a robust military action, a belief in America’s natural supremacy, and a demand that we “support our troops,” the meaningless compromise that became the obligatory opening to any criticism of the war in Iraq. “Now, of course, I support the troops, but…” Patriotism became a set of particular political beliefs, a series of policy positions, a whole ethic, instead of what it is and truly should be: the love of country as the loyalty due family. This is, of course, nothing new, but it was strange to witness it, once I stepped back enough that I was even capable of witnessing it. This goes back right to the founding, to the very fact that the United States was formed to adhere to specific principles and ideals; from the very beginning, the love of the country has been caught up with the love of republicanism, if not democracy.
But if this is required, then it isn’t really freedom we’re letting ring, is it?
The basic rights of man are ancient; they were established by God and are found in our very nature, before the Constitution was written, before the United States even existed, and at the very pinnacle, the very crown of which is the freedom of conscience. That is, in the end, my freedom and your freedom to disagree about, well, anything, really. It’s my freedom to say “God Damn America” and “Screw the Troops” if I so please, although I’m probably not going to so. It’s my freedom and your freedom to love each other and ignore the government. See, that’s the thing; our natural rights weren’t superseded by our civil rights, like social contract theory asserts; instead, they’re supposed to form the foundation of civil rights, which should codify and limit the power of the state to exercise force over them by giving them concrete form and expression.
So. As John Adams put it, at least in the miniseries, “That is liberty, and liberty will reign in America.”
I’ve been trying to put together a coherent post regarding natural vs. civil rights, but so far, it’s turning into a long, incoherent, rambling monologue. I’m quite disappointed; I suppose my thoughts on the matter were not as clear as I’d hope. I will have to approach it again after a break. Till then, courage.
