The patriotism dilemma

 

Yesterday, President Biden presented the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian honor our country bestows, to seventeen people, people he said “demonstrate the power of possibilities and embody the soul of the nation—hard work, perseverance, and faith. They have overcome significant obstacles to achieve impressive accomplishments in the arts and sciences, dedicated their lives to advocating for the most vulnerable among us, and acted with bravery to drive change in their communities—and across the world—while blazing trails for generations to come.”

There were names I did not recognize but many I did—Gabby Giffords, the representative from Arizona who, a gun violence survivor, crusades for gun control; gymnast Simone Biles; creative genius Steve Jobs (posthumous); Khizr Khan, the Gold Star father who advocates for religious freedom; gymnast Megan Rapinoe, an advocate of equal pay, racial justice, and LBGTQ rights; the late Senator John McCain; actor Denzel Washington. You may recognize more than I did, but my first thought on reading the list was how proud it makes me to be an American, to be represented by these people who have accomplished so much not just for themselves but for our country and out people. It made me feel patriotic.

But there’s the rub. I don’t feel patriotic much these days, and the uncertainty is a feeling I remember from the days of George W. Bush’s presidency. I am not always proud of my country. Don’t get me wrong: I love the United States. Despite my jokes about Canada and Scotland, there’s no place else I’d rather live. Shoot! I don’t even want to move from Texas, and it takes a mighty effort to be a proud Texan these days with our out-of-control extremist governor and high-ranking officials. But I am not at all of the “America, love it or leave it” mentality. I think that’s a cop-out.

In an online group I belong to a few days ago, I saw a blog about the dilemma of patriotism (I can’t quite remember the exact title). At first, I thought, “Aha! Someone shares my dilemma, and I read it eagerly. The writer is a psychologist and tackled the subject by addressing groups and their importance. Being patriotic, she wrote, gives us a sense of belonging to a group. It makes us feel safe and valued. But the trouble with groups is their tendency to ostracize those who are “different” in some ways. And there, she came close to the reason I cannot feel a hundred percent patriotic.

I cannot be proud of a country that openly and covertly practices racism, isolates LGBTQ citizens, discriminates against women, devalues the elderly, and has the highest rate of deaths by gunfire of any civilized nation, topped only by Brazil. I cannot be proud of a country where an extreme religion is gaining more and more control over our lives. I cannot be proud of a country where much of the population remains blind to the threats of climate change and the desperate need to save our environment for the sake of the entire world. I cannot be proud of a country where recently at least a third of the population swore fealty to a con man, a demagogue known to be a liar, cheat, sexual predator, politically ignorant, blustery—you come up with the rest of the adjectives.

What am I proud of? A country with a history, sometimes glorious, sometimes despicable but a country that until recent times tried to be honest about its past, tried to learn and grow. A country that values the individual, values truth, does not hide from its glaring mistakes but tackles them, a country of kindness and caring people. I want the day back where teachers could teach what they as educated experts deemed important and not what bullying parents want; I want the day back when women’s medical care was a private thing between her and her doctor; I want the day back when librarians, using their education, could shelves books they thought important without government interference; I want the day back of social networks and government services that provided for the least among us.

Right now I’m doing some research into the 1950s, mostly culinary. It was the decade that saw the introduction of preserved and convenience foods, of weird foods such as all those gelatin salads, a time when women may have worked outside the home, but they were primarily housewives. That decade in many ways teaches us to be grateful for all the progress we enjoy today. But in 1950 we had just won a huge war, the men were home (most of them), our international reputation was high, our economy booming (where do you think the term Boomers came from?), and our country optimistic. Nobody quibbled, as they did this year, over whether or not to fly a flag on the Fourth of July. We were all Americans, and we were all patriotic. (No I’m not blind to the Korean War, McCarthyism, the nuclear threat which was then new—but I’m talking in generalities).

Someone posted the other day that in these trouble times we must all love each other, to which I retorted that was great but would do little to tame a rogue Supreme Court which is rapidly destroying democracy. But maybe I was hasty—maybe that’s where change begins. But time’s a-wasting, and we better hurry. The future looms, and I’m not always sure I can be optimistic—or patriotic.