In defense of “America”
Orwell was a patriot, a patriot in the sense that he was able to identify things as characteristically “English” which he admired and felt a sense, however intangible, of personal pride in being associated with them. At the same time, he was very open in public and in private about his fierce opposition to British imperialism, and, in fact, to the entire notion of an empire, the driving force of his country’s foreign policy for much of his life. In short, he found a way to stand for “God Save the King” while he sought to destabilize India’s role as the “jewel in the crown,” and perhaps even to destabilize the crown itself.
Critics of Orwell would perhaps say that this disparity is another demonstration of his eagerness to accommodate existing authority, of his lack of commitment to real socialist revolution, or, at best, of his naivete. As usual, I direct a certain hand gesture in the general direction of Orwell’s detractors, but that isn’t my point, at least not this time.
Orwell was able to rag on nearly every point of his country’s policy and popular culture, and much of its art and symbols of ‘progress’, because he problematized and reappropriated what it meant to be patriotic, to be proud to be English. For any point and place in history, this is pretty nuanced, pretty sophisticated stuff, and there are two kinds of rhetoric in my own country and my own time that make me think of him and hold his example especially tightly. The first is that kind of rhetoric you get from the FOX news-watching, SUV-loving, flag-draped crowd, which is that America is #1 because, well, because we just kick ass and everyone knows it, including (perhaps especially) God. As a late-20s, well educated liberal who has always lived in blue states, it’s easy for me to dismiss this kind of talk as simply moronic.
The other kind of rhetoric is not so easy for me to set aside, since the people I hear it from tend to be my friends, and (in truth) I feel it so often in my own throat. I’m talking about the kind of talk which, in the sprit of rejecting the morons, rejects wholesale that anything about America might be well-intentioned or worthy of extolling. The most extreme example of this kind of talk I have personally witnessed happened, not surprisingly, soon after 9/11 when an acquaintance declared that because of our hubris, we deserved to be attacked. (It goes without saying, perhaps, that said acquaintance isn’t from New York and didn’t know anyone hurt or killed.) Most of the time, people know enough not to say they side with bin Laden (or whoever we should blame for 9/11) in polite conversation, but the sentiment–that America is a big, dumb bully that has whatever happens to it coming–has been the official party line of disaffected liberals (as if there’s another kind!) for the whole of the decade so far.
The disaffected liberals are my people, and the Bush years were hard. American foreign and domestic policy has involved no small amount of lunch money-stealing, and especially if you’re talking to someone from another country, it’s often easier just to say that the whole thing sucks then try to defend or explain the indefensible and inexplicable. I admit readily that I’ve towed that line to speed up conversations I didn’t want to have. It’s an efficient way to communicate, “I’m not a flag-waving asshole, but I don’t really want to get into it.”
But let’s get into it.
My problem with the “we suck” rhetoric is that it is, really, just as much of an oversimplification as the “we rule” rhetoric. Perhaps it is even worse, in a way, because “we suck” is a reaction to “we rule,” it doesn’t stand on its own. We end up on the side that’s against things because we let the other guys define what the sides were and then pick the better one for themselves. In bowing out and saying that there is nothing about being Americans that we are proud of, we are owning the swagger and simple answers of Bush’s Washington.
The history and texture of a nation is too massive and complicated to say just that we kick ass. We owe it to ourselves, and to the world, not to ignore slavery, Manifest Destiny, McCarthyism, etc. But it is also true that the American Revolution is perhaps the only revolution ever to lead to a stable government, and a relatively democratic one at that. We can depend on elections running legally and power being transferred peacefully. It’s silly to suggest that there is no class system here, but it is not immovable. We maintain more racial, ethnic, religious, and ideological diversity than anyone else ever has, and that still blows my mind, even if we fail to maintain it entirely without hiccups. It’s easy to conjure up the image of Ellis Island as a giant holding cell guarded by TSA on steroids where you had to change your name and forgo the kerchief, but it actually boasted a number of accommodations, like a kosher kitchen, aimed at welcoming variable peoples. And that’s more than a century ago! We’ve never been perfect, but I think history shows that we are essentially committed to progress in the good way, in the way that triumphs over old prejudices and seeks solutions.
As Orwell dismayed his country’s place in the world while nursing a nice cup of tea, we can sip Dunkin’ Donuts coffee and seek the same third way. Not allowing dangerous simplemindedness to define the American brand just may be the ultimate patriotic duty.
I’ve come back to this and read it through at least three times. It sounds smarter and more carefully nuanced every time through. Nice piece of work!
Which is only to say, I agree completely!