It's a tough question ... or a stupid one.
Not in any especially-distinctive way. I try to enjoy the fact that I am a human being, and since I must be a human being I try to enjoy the fact that I am an American.
But love? Well, what does that really mean? Does that mean I want to fuck America every night? Does that mean I want to hold its hand and nod and say, "Uh-huh. Isn't that interesting?"
Perhaps more effective than jokes would be the basis of the counterpoint:
WHAT is patriotism? Is it love of one's birthplace, the place of childhood's recollections and hopes, dreams and aspirations? Is it the place where, in childlike naivety, we would watch the fleeting clouds, and wonder why we, too, could not run so swiftly? The place where we would count the milliard glittering stars, terror-stricken lest each one "an eye should be," piercing the very depths of our little souls? Is it the place where we would listen to the music of the birds, and long to have wings to fly, even as they, to distant lands? Or the place where we would sit at mother's knee, enraptured by wonderful tales of great deeds and conquests? In short, is it love for the spot, every inch representing dear and precious recollections of a happy, joyous, and playful childhood?
If that were patriotism, few American men of today could be called upon to be patriotic, since the place of play has been turned into factory, mill, and mine, while deafening sounds of machinery have replaced the music of the birds. Nor can we longer hear the tales of great deeds, for the stories our mothers tell today are but those of sorrow, tears, and grief ....
.... Gustave Hervé, another great anti-patriot, justly calls patriotism a superstition--one far more injurious, brutal, and inhumane than religion. The superstition of religion originated in man's inability to explain natural phenomena. That is, when primitive man heard thunder or saw the lightning, he could not account for either, and therefore concluded that back of them must be a force greater than himself. Similarly he saw a supernatural force in the rain, and in the various other changes in nature. Patriotism, on the other hand, is a superstition artificially created and maintained through a network of lies and falsehoods; a superstition that robs man of his self-respect and dignity, and increases his arrogance and conceit.
Indeed, conceit, arrogance, and egotism are the essentials of patriotism. Let me illustrate. Patriotism assumes that our globe is divided into little spots, each one surrounded by an iron gate. Those who have had the fortune of being born on some particular spot, consider themselves better, nobler, grander, more intelligent than the living beings inhabiting any other spot. It is, therefore, the duty of everyone living on that chosen spot to fight, kill, and die in the attempt to impose his superiority upon all the others.
The inhabitants of the other spots reason in like manner, of course, with the result that, from early infancy, the mind of the child is poisoned with bloodcurdling stories about the Germans, the French, the Italians, Russians, etc. When the child has reached manhood, he is thoroughly saturated with the belief that he is chosen by the Lord himself to defend his country against the attack or invasion of any foreigner. It is for that purpose that we are clamoring for a greater army and navy, more battleships and ammunition. It is for that purpose that America has within a short time spent four hundred million dollars. Just think of it--four hundred million dollars taken from the produce of the people. For surely it is not the rich who contribute to patriotism. They are cosmopolitans, perfectly at home in every land. We in America know well the truth of this. Are not our rich Americans Frenchmen in France, Germans in Germany, or Englishmen in England? And do they not squandor with cosmopolitan grace fortunes coined by American factory children and cotton slaves? Yes, theirs is the patriotism that will make it possible to send messages of condolence to a despot like the Russian Tsar, when any mishap befalls him, as President Roosevelt did in the name of his people, when Sergius was punished by the Russian revolutionists.
It is a patriotism that will assist the arch-murderer, Diaz, in destroying thousands of lives in Mexico, or that will even aid in arresting Mexican revolutionists on American soil and keep them incarcerated in American prisons, without the slightest cause or reason. (
Goldman)
• • •
It's all the same; only the names will change.
Every day it seems were wasting away.
(Bon Jovi)
• • •
Emma Goldman's 1908 indictment of patriotism questions the concept's foundations, asserts its effects, and considers its cost in both economic and human value. And while we certainly cannot limit the notion of loving a country to various definitions of patriotism, it seems worthwhile to inquire as to what other basis for "love" there is. Sycophantic devotion? Skepticism and cynical opposition? What about violence on the basis that "This hurts me more than it will hurt you", and, "This is only because I love you"?
When I was a child, parents, teachers, and community at large sought to indoctrinate my generation into a patriotic love that was unquestioning. Unfortunately, there were about the foundation of that love conflicting values, and the only acceptable resolution to the conflict seemed to be that we should decide there is no conflict. If we consider the idea that the motto, "In God We Trust", stamped on our currency at the very least was a Cold War development intended to posit the United States' noble Christianity against the godless, evil Communists, we can highlight one of these conflicts. For I recall one of my father's arguments against Communism was to ask whether I wanted to be able to take care of myself or be obliged to take care of lazy people who just wanted to take advantage of me. The question aimed after the famous tenet, "From each according to his ability, to each according to his need." The evil Communists, it was explained, would make me pay money to take care of everybody else, no matter how unworthy.
At the same time, though, many of my generation were being taken to church or pressed through "confirmation" indoctrination and rituals intended to seal our devotion to Christendom. We were encouraged to look at the U.S. as a Christian nation. Reagan loved God; the First Amendment vs. Heavy Metal fight that dominated so many developing consciences was cast in Christian terms (free speech ends when it offends someone else; read, "free speech ends when it offends Christian sensibilities", since the reverse--fulsome Christianity--was rewarded with supremacist presupposition); into the 1990s and the new century, the objection to the existence of homosexuals, on the one hand, and the objection to scientific education to the other
both find their strongest roots in the American Christian experience. And yet, what was it about Communism that the argument found so repugnant? To each, from each. In the Communist context, this principle is hardly original. It does, in fact, have credible roots, especially if we are to accept the Christianity of the American cultural experience.
And when they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness. Now the company of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things which he possessed was his own, but they had everything in common. And with great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles' feet; and distribution was made to each as any had need. Thus Joseph who was surnamed by the apostles Barnabas (which means, Son of encouragement), a Levite, a native of Cyprus, sold a field which belonged to him, and brought the money and laid it at the apostles' feet. (
Acts 4.31-ff, RSV)
What's really funny is that, as a young Lutheran student, we studied the Book of Acts in our confirmation curriculum, and just happened to skip this portion of the story.
It is hard to love something when you don't know what it is. It is hard to know what something is when the only consistency about its identity is that the components of identity conflict so greatly with the intended composite. When we look at our love for human beings, are we really expected to accept of each other massive inconsistency? Was Bill Clinton actually "faithful" to his wife? Does my former partner, the mother of my child, really never lie? I mean, when my friends and I say that I'm sober when I'm stoned, it's intended as a
joke. But somehow I don't think people are joking when beating their wives or children and calling it love. I don't think people are joking when they argue a state of war is peace. I don't think people are joking when they argue that equality is best defined as supremacy. I don't think people are joking when they argue that freedom means you must be silent.
Maybe if we purported to be a Buddhist nation, such contradictions could be reconciled. But we don't, and they can't.
I absolutely adore the pitch I was given as a child. I'm still waiting, of course, to meet that America and say, "Hello. I love you."
Maybe someday.
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Notes: