Patriotism

Patriotism

 It’s the Fourth of July in the first year of President Trump. With all of the distress and disgust, with all of the “hate” among us; it still is the Fourth of July. It is the celebration of the 241^st year of the Republic.

 If there is a day for patriotism, for love of country despite its flaws, the Fourth of July is the day.

 Over twenty years ago I was teaching high school kids government, and faced the question: “what is patriotism?” I tried to come up with an answer for those students. And while it was in a very different era (those students are almost forty now), on this Independence Day in particular, it is a good time to re-visit Patriotism.

I spent the day reading student essays on patriotism. Some students confused it with right wing ideas, some students thought it had to do with politicians, a lot of students just had no idea what patriotism was. Many, many blamed a lack of patriotism on a lack of knowledge. “We were never taught about it!” they cried, “we should have known it at an early age — then we would have ‘patriotism.’”

Is that true? Did we miss an opportunity to teach these young people? Have we created the cynicism they are so well known for; are they too aware of the world without having the background to see through the flaws; are they too jaded by the post-Vietnam “everybody is screwed up” world we have created?

What comes to mind is this: teacher, teach. Explain to them what is right with America, why this is a good place, and what makes it a country that demands loyalty despite its flaws. Explain to them what is “patriotism”, and why you are a patriot.

Do you know? How long has it been since you have asked yourself that question? A teacher of history and government, and lover of the events that made America what it is, why are you a patriot? Explain: that’s what you do for a living, isn’t it? Teacher, teach.

It seems awkward, even trite, to write down why you love something. It exposes your soul to the world, it leaves you open for attack. But how can you ask it of someone else when you are unable to do it yourself? What is patriotism, and why are you a patriot? Answer the question, in 300 words or less (right!).

Patriotism is a love of your country, a love for what America means and what it stands for. Patriotism is not fanaticism, it allows for criticism and fault. Patriotism accepts the fact that others may not be patriotic, but it requires that at the end of the day, there is a basic loyalty to one nation, our nation. It means a love of what America was and is; with flaws, with unfairness, with discrimination; but with an essential rightness that rises above the inequities.

Why love this country? Because it began with goals that even then far outstripped the reality. So what if Thomas Jefferson owned slaves, so what if George Washington needed his land in Ohio to be open to settlement? They looked beyond their own material gains, they tried to establish a nation with a purpose that far exceeded their own potential benefit. Did they mean to, or was it a subterfuge to cover their own material desires? It really doesn’t matter, they set the tone either intentionally or despite themselves. They established the dream.

I once went to a Fourth of July picnic at a friend of my family’s house. He was a federal judge, and he brought a fellow judge with him to the picnic, Judge George Edwards. Judge Edwards had been put in jail fighting discrimination long before it was the “right” thing to do, he had used his great mind not to benefit financially, as many lawyers do, but to further what he thought was right. Judge Edwards lost his most precious gift in the end, he had a stroke that took away his mind, and this was near that time.

But Judge Edwards got up at the Fourth of July picnic, and in a quavering voice read the beginning of the Declaration of Independence.

 

            …We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among those are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights governments are instituted among men deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…

They were not just words. They were his life. They are what he staked his whole being on. He was the government, a federal district judge. He believed in the dream of Jefferson and Washington, and knew that reality did not reach the dream. It did not matter, he believed.

I walked Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg, by myself, in the heat of the day in July as did the soldiers in Longstreet’s command. I looked at the low ridge, Cemetery Ridge, where Hancock and the Federal troops waited to dispatch them. I thought, how could they do this? How could they walk this long mile, climb the fence, cross the road, and run up the hill into what could only have been a flaming wall of musket fire?

They were a mixed bag, but mostly simple country boys. So were the Federals who just as bravely stood to meet them. Why go? It wasn’t a belief in slavery, or a hatred of it. It was simple: a man ought to have the right to determine what will happen to him. Both sides believed it, just one side thought they had to be on their own, and the other side thought they had to be together. It was a simple belief; and it wasn’t pressure, the officers in the rear with pistols, or the penalties for desertion that drove men to fight that day. Men ought to fight for what they believe, and in the Civil War both sides believed. A cold wind blew through my soul that day, even more that night as I stood on Cemetery Ridge and watched the sun go down behind the sad statue of Robert E. Lee on the far side of the field. They gave more than anyone could have asked; they were all patriots, they died for us all, both sides.

I have a friend, a man now, who once was a student of mine. He was born in the worst of situations, abandoned by both parents, raised by relations, lived in tough financial circumstances. But he had a mind that could reach beyond it all, and a heart of gold. He used his abilities, both mental and physical, to move himself to the top of America’s academic world. He earned scholarships, he met all of the challenges, and he never let the circumstances of his birth dictate what his life would be. He has stayed himself, but he has made himself, because he believed in the power of his dream.

Why love America? Because men like George Edwards made it their life’s work. Because the soldiers at Gettysburg were willing to die for their belief in it’s freedom. And because America allows those with the worst disadvantages to use their talents to rise to become its best.

Why love America? Because in your own way, you too are part of its story, its tradition, and its future. Because each person at Gettysburg, George Edwards, my student; all did not see themselves as a “great piece of history”, but only as doing what they thought was right. So should we all, and because we are in a country that allows it, we have reason to love America.