Patriots and Perfection

I have never been one to go all out for the 4^th of July. Perhaps it was my childhood fear of fireworks that, let’s be frank, continues to this day. Perhaps it was that my family never placed much of an emphasis on this day, and it fell in with the rest of the summer cookouts that, while pleasant, failed to register as significant. Or perhaps it is that I have never felt extraordinarily patriotic. I am not one to accessorize with American flags or plaster my car with red, white, and blue bumper stickers, and that has always made me feel like less of an American than those who wear their admiration of America quite literally on their sleeve (or lapel, for the politicians among us).

This thought has been with me lately: what is patriotism? I have found it difficult to call myself a patriot because I don’t think this is the greatest nation on earth. My appreciation for this country has always been tempered by the realization that there are other wonderful places on this earth, and that we still have many problems to resolve. I don’t fit in with the group that have staked their claim on the title “patriot”. But just because I’m not wearing rose-colored glasses doesn’t mean I don’t love this country. My love is just more complex and subtle. Like all relationships, it has its ups and its downs, but there is something deep and abiding that keeps me loyal.

In the wake of two recent dedecisions by the Supreme Court, I have been both optimistic and anxious in turn about the potential we have as a nation to truly form a more perfect union.  There are a lot of opinions out there about what would make our nation a better place, and while I tend to lean to one side of the political spectrum, I have found citizens of all political colors with whom I can have intelligent and passionate conversation on the issues. I have even found myself agreeing with them and looking for ways to integrate our different ideas.

I truly believe that all Americans want our country to be the best it can be. Where we often go wrong is in our lack of effort to see outside of our own perspective.

American history is certainly not spotless, but one of the things we can say is that we have consistently been a nation of diversity. Before we were a nation, we were thirteen colonies, each with its own government. We were a place where people came to flee religious persecution, though granted that persecution was usually one Christian denomination against another. Our problematic relationship with race stated early, with the slave trade and our treatment of Native Americans, but most of our immigrants early on were white Western Europeans. As we grew, our influx of immigrants became more and more diverse, expanding into Northern and Eastern Europe and then into Latin America and Asia. We are a nation of ever-increasing diversity.

But we are also a nation that fights against that diversity as each new wave breaks on the shores of this country. Our firm and nostalgic hold on our own history often prevents us from realizing that we are living our future’s history right now. Those same ethnic groups who were discriminated against when they arrived in this country a hundred years ago are now bemoaning the damage that new immigrant groups will do to our culture.

I remember reading Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States in my high school AP US History class. At the time, I did not realize the value of that book, but it’s one I often return to when politics come up. The simplicity of telling the tale of our history from the perspective of the oppressed and not the oppressor is beautiful, and its value is in its power. It’s hard to remain entrenched in your own self-interest once you have seen through the eyes of another, and I truly believe that our ability to move forward as a nation and to improve the lives of each and every one of us lies in our ability to empathize.

This dichotomy is not unique to our own nation. It’s a legacy we share with other developed and developing countries. We have both led and followed in the search for democracy and the development of more perfect unions. The very action of perfecting implies that the goal has not yet been reached. So perhaps that is part of why I often feel like an outsider in this culture on days like today. I believe that exclamations that America is the perfect democracy – the ultimate and best in all things free and beautiful – is not equivalent to loving my country. There are many wonderful things about America, and I am grateful to have grown up here, but I believe it is doing a disservice to this country to not address the many problems we have today.

Patriotism for me, as I doubt you will be surprised to hear, is not blindly expressing admiration or claiming American exceptionalism. It’s being a citizen not just of America, but of the world. We become better people and better Americans when we embrace our kinship with other nations and see the bigger picture. It’s loving our country enough to be willing to criticize it. Constructive criticism means that you believe enough in the entity you are criticizing that you think your words and actions will impact it. Criticism implies hope. And if I want to call myself a patriot, I have to believe enough in this country’s ability to grow and mature to try to do something about it.

So while I will not be attending a cookout, dressing in the colors of our flag, or going to watch the fireworks tonight, I will still take the time today to be grateful for what this country has to offer. And I will not stop wishing and working for a better America, because I believe we have what it takes to get there one day.