By Kevin D. Williamson
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
Is patriotism possible?
Is it possible for, say, Robert Francis O’Rourke? The
Dave Matthews Band of Democratic presidential candidates put this into writing:
“This country was founded on racism, has persisted through racism, and is
racist today.” If by patriotism we mean simply to indicate love of
country, would it be unfair to ask: How could a man of conscience love
such a country? O’Rourke here is neither writing about the state nor any
particular administration nor any of our nation’s many episodic failures to
live up to its own ideals, but about the nation per se.
One cannot love a hateful country the way one might love
a racist uncle in spite of his shortcomings, because the love of country cannot
survive the contempt and condescension one unavoidably feels toward doddering
old men who should have learned better by now but are too old to be taught. You
might cut your dotty uncle some slack, but love of country assumes a certain
minimum of respect for it and confidence in it that are precluded by the kind
of eye-rolling indulgence that in the South is accompanied by the exclamation
“Bless your heart!”
If you believed, as Representatives Ilhan Omar and
Rashida Tlaib believe, that the United States is fundamentally wicked, a force
for injustice and oppression at home and abroad, and that this was not the
result of ordinary human failure but by design, how could you in good
conscience love such a country? If you believed, as Bernie Sanders and
Patrick J. Buchanan do, that the United States is an oppressive empire, and
that this empire must be disbanded, that it is a cultivator of “undemocratic,
repressive regimes, which torture, jail and deny basic rights to their
citizens,” as Senator Sanders put it, how could you love it? Not aspects
of it — not the Grand Canyon, or the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches
— but the whole thing itself?
If you believed that white supremacy is the uniquely
defining feature of American life, as Ta-Nehisi Coates believes, how could you bear
to feel patriotism? Yet Coates does admit a qualified pride in his country,
occasioned — this part is difficult for me to understand — by a visit to
Washington, of all cities:
Out there, on the Mall, among the
monuments, in this state, it all came at me—the recent readings of American
history, my own movements through life—and it congealed into the oddest thing:
an intense pride in country. I spend much of this blog discussing race and
teasing at the problems of American history. I think that it would be easy to
see in that a scornful, pessimistic and cynical view of the country. . . . I’ve
found it increasingly harder to do when measuring the country against the
breadth of human history. . . .
I don’t know if “American
Exceptionalism” means much in this age, but it did, once. In The Feminist
Promise, Christine Stansell notes that in 1850, America was the last
standing democracy in the Atlantic world. That claim must be qualified by the
broad swath of Americans—blacks, immigrants, women—who were disenfranchised. At
the end of the 19th century, Stansell notes that Utah and Colorado were two of
the only places in the entire world where women could vote. The hackneyed
notion that “America is a beacon for democracy” is usually deployed in
arrogance. But in the time of Abraham Lincoln, it was a demonstrable fact.
I think of my parents born into a
socially engineered poverty, and I think of their children enjoying the fruits
(social mobility) garnered by the nonviolent, democratic assault on that social
engineering. And then I consider that for centuries, over the entire world, if
your parents were peasants, you were a peasant, as were your children.
I think it is proper to be proud of
that change. I would not argue for a pride that insists America has worked out
all of its problems, and evidences that work by exporting its institutions via
tank and bomber. I would argue for a studied pride, a gratitude, that understands
all that was sacrificed, that we could have easily tilted the other way, that
the experiment is still, even now, fragile, and remains in constant need of the
lost 19th century concept of improvement.
Question: Is there anyone who actually advocates “a pride
that insists America has worked out all of its problems”? I can think of no one
of any consequence. That notwithstanding, Coates here sounds more than a little
like National Review editor Rich Lowry, down to noting the
“improvements” that figured so large in Lincoln’s thinking, and he implicitly
asks the most important question in politics and economics: Compared to
what?
* *
*
Let us consider, for perspective, China.
China and the United States have some big things in
common, including bigness: China and India are the world’s most populous
countries, but Americans often forget that theirs is third on the list. Like
the United States, China has a modern nationalist sentiment with its roots in
the 20th century and a racial identity that is complicated and at least to some
extent synthetic. As Professor David Yen-ho Wu put it in his “The
Construction of Chinese and Non-Chinese Identities,” Chinese people
experience both zhongguoren, “which carries the connotation of modern
patriotism or nationalism . . . a connectedness with the fate of China as a
nation,” and membership in zhonghua minzu, for which “a close but
inadequate English translation would be ‘the Chinese race’ or ‘the Chinese
people.’” Professor Wu goes on to note a kind of Chinese Exceptionalism: “Since
ancient times, the Chinese have viewed themselves as being at the center,
surrounded by culturally inferior barbarians at the peripheries.”
Both zhongguoren and zhongua
minzu represent an identity based on concepts of cultural and historical
fulfillment rather than the more conventional modern notions of nationality or
citizenship. Since most Chinese have believed that the Han people were the
race of China, one that had absorbed people of all languages, customs, and
racial and ethnic origins; the meanings of being Chinese in the sense of
ethnicity, culture, citizenship, or residence were almost never addressed. . .
. By the early twentieth century this concept of a “Chinese people” included
four major non-Chinese races, descendants of what were formerly referred to as
barbarians: The Man (Manchus), the Meng (Mongolians) the Hui (ethnic groups of
Islamic faith in northwestern China) and the Zang (Tibetans). It was also
believed that these minority groups, like hundreds of others in the past, had
been assimilated into the Chinese culture because of the irresistibly superior
Han civilization that had carried on unchanged for thousands of years. . . . It
was not until the 1960s, under a Marxist ideology and a Russian model of
policy, that the People’s Republic established a new concept of being Chinese,
which clearly demarcated the Han (ethnic and racially Chinese) and the non-Han
(a number of exclusive groups of people representing different cultures,
languages, races, and territorial boundaries).
There are important differences, of course, the relative
compactness of the American timeline prominent among them, but none of the
above is entirely alien to the American experience. Tom Friedman of the New
York Times has been energetically derided by conservatives for his “China
for a day” fantasy, but that is only the ordinary, eternal progressive dream of
unlimited government power in the hands of enlightened dictators. It is only a
fantasy about the state.
On the right, there is a different kind of grudging
admiration for the Beijing way. There is more than a little suggestion of envy
in the anti-China rhetoric of many American conservatives: The Chinese,
according to this view, know what they want — national greatness — and they are
prepared to pursue it as ruthlessly and unapologetically as conditions dictate.
They are, according to these rivals and admirers, unencumbered by such niceties
as liberalism, principle, a sense of fair play, honor in their international
relationships, etc. Friedman is not the only American looking east and saying,
wistfully, “We ought to get us some of that!” Even the sense of
minorities being assimilated into an “irresistibly superior civilization” has
its ugly American counterpart: How many times have you heard it declared, as
though it were a truth we can hold to be self-evident, that African Americans
should be grateful that their ancestors were brought to these shores as slaves,
in order to spare them life in the Congo or Nigeria? The unapologetic and
triumphalist Chinese belief in the superiority of the Chinese way has its
envying admirers in the United States, to be sure. Donald Trump is one of them,
and offers himself and his style of politics as an American nationalism to
match Chinese nationalism in its ambition and scope.
That sort of thing probably is easier to digest when it
comes to nations of diminished importance. For example, I often have written
that one of the things I most admire about the French is their refusal to
apologize for being French, their refusal to be embarrassed by preferring their
own language, their own food, their own literature, and their own way of life.
The Swiss are not embarrassed to say: Switzerland is for the Swiss. But that is
a relatively safe thing to feel about France, which is many years past its
ambition to be a global power, or about retiring Switzerland. Swiss pride is a
matter of concern to very few people outside of Switzerland. Chinese
nationalism and ethnonationalism are questions of worldwide importance.
As, indeed, is the question of American patriotism.
* *
*
I will note here that to the extent that the political
declarations of Robert Francis O’Rourke et al. describe a country it would not
be possible or honorable to love, I do not doubt the sincerity of their patriotism
— I doubt the sincerity of their politics. I do not believe that they
believe what they say they believe, any more than I believe that Donald Trump
believed the United States to be a pit of festering “carnage” prior to his
election, or that, e.g., Dennis Prager really thinks the United States is such
a contemptible and piteous thing that the republic is one election away from
falling, as he insisted earlier this week. I do not believe that the United
States is three tweets away from a holocaust or that it is, as so many on the
right seem to think and sometimes to hope, on the verge of a civil war. And I
do not believe that these people really believe those things, either.
Patriotism Inc., like Virtue Inc., turns out to be a camp
of moral relativism and situational ethics. Only a few years ago, conservatives
were practically unanimous in their criticism of left-wing talk of “economic
patriotism.” It was easy for conservatives to understand the illiberal and
indeed totalitarian notions in which that concept is bound up when it was
coming out of the mouths of Ted Strickland and Barack Obama. Now, conservatives
listen to talk shows sponsored by patriotism-branded mobile-phone and
coffee companies, and Republicans dream of sanctioning West Coast technology
firms for their lack of economic patriotism. “Patriotic” thus for many
conservatives effectively has come to mean “right-wing,” while for progressives
it has come to mean “operationally progressive,” or at least compliant.
And so we see patriotism as a marketing device wedded to patriotism as a
partisan political precondition. Republicans have followed Barack Obama in
their embrace of a “new New Nationalism,” which looks and smells a great deal
like self-interested Patriotism™-branded political marketing wedded to
opportunistic partisan anti-capitalism.
What about the real thing?
American patriotism is complicated by the fact that there
really is no American patria, no consanguinary nation. There is not much
anguish or uncertainty over what it means to be Icelandic. Like Chinese
patriotism, American patriotism has been based on a complex ethnic calculus and
the presumptive domination of a foundational origin culture (the delineations
of which are ever-changing, even — especially — in retrospect) that has
successfully and benevolently incorporated the best of that with which it has
come into contact. There is a vague awareness of Puritan idealism, an equally
vague and changeable conception of something called “white people,” the
concepts of Manifest Destiny and American Exceptionalism, and the philosophy of
the Founding. It is the last of these that really dominates our politics:
Conservatives, when they are being conservative, seek to conserve the principles
of the American Founding; progressives seek to supplant the Founding philosophy
with Wilsonian autocracy, the New Deal, the New New Deal, the Great New Deal,
or whatever it is that catches their fancy at any given moment.
Conservatives and progressives both are deeply
dissatisfied with the current iteration of the American republic. Conservatives
detest American institutions that are the envy of the world, from Silicon
Valley to Harvard. The Left understands the country as tainted, its only avenue
of possible redemption being the full embrace of every item on the left-wing
agenda, which expands hourly: So obsessed are our progressives with the
grammatical concept of gender that we now are expected to use the neuter
neologism “Latinx” to refer to people descended from speakers of a language
that is unintelligible without gender specificity.
And so perhaps the relevant question about patriotism is
not whether x or y loves this country but what kind of country x or y would
love — and love without the baroque qualifications and self-referential
preconditions contemplated by critics left and right. The problem — and this is
a great problem — is that neither the Red Tribe nor the Blue Tribe seems
capable of being content with an America in which the other tribe exists,
predominates in certain communities, and lives on free and equal terms.
It will be a neat trick if either of them figures out how
to love America without loving Americans.
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