Flags, Fetishes, and the Folly of Forced Fidelity
Patriotism is a fine thing, in theory. Especially when it is viewed critically, but when it is mixed with blind faith, it becomes not only dangerous but profoundly unpatriotic. Lately, observing the peculiar gymnastics performed under the broad banner of American fealty, one can’t help but notice it’s gotten a bit… religious. More of an evangelical pulpit with the preacher’s chosen straight from the alt-right central casting of white, publicly straight males who pass the litmus test of anti-women, anti-immigrant, and anti-queer guised in American values.
Blind patriotism replaces the quiet devotion to the messy, glorious, occasionally infuriating business of democratic self-governance with an applauded fetish to devotion. What we see from the current sermon, penned by what we quaintly call “the Right,” seems to be demanding an awful lot of unironic standing ovations and hallelujahs.
Perhaps as a pinko-commie atheist, I just don’t appreciate a good sermon on fidelity to the flag, especially when it’s preached by jingoists whose only bars they know are from ‘America the Beautiful’. What we face is a new brand (or not so new: remember the Sedition Act?) of “patriotism” morphing into a loyalty test where dissenting voices are treated like a bad case of moral and political instability – something to be ruthlessly suppressed, villainized, and then locked away in padded re-education rooms.
Today’s ever-increasingly dangerous environment needs a healthy dose of informed skepticism – not just as an act of civic duty, but an ethical necessity to question how we have moved so far from the promise of America. The sort of nationalism currently strutting about, with its pale, hairy, and flabby, middle-aged chest puffed out, is daring anyone to question its choices so that they can prove their love of country by demanding everyone else love their version of America. The problem is, of course, that their version of ‘Merica looks suspiciously like a funhouse mirror reflection of their own biases and prejudices.
The problem, you see, with this brand of flag-waving, “my country right or wrong” fervor is that it’s inherently lazy. It’s the intellectual equivalent of letting your spouse burn dinner night after night because, by golly, they’re your spouse and criticizing them would be “un-marital.” Any fool with a pulse and an 8th-grade education can stand up and shout “USA! USA!” while wearing a novelty foam Statue of Liberty hat. It takes considerably more character, and dare I say, more genuine affection, to point out that the Statue of Liberty is starting to lean a bit and that maybe those foam hats are causing a global warming issue.
True patriotism, the gritty, unsentimental kind that actually keeps a republic from spinning off its axis, involves a fair bit of grumbling. It’s the sacred right, indeed the obligation, of any free citizen to look at the apparatus of power, whether it’s run by an elephant or donkey, and say, “Wait a god damn minute… This feels anti-American? Aren’t we supposed to stand for liberty and justice for ALL? Or am I just an overly sensitive liberal with critical thinking skills and a liberal arts degree?”
Our Founders, bless their gender-bending, drag-inspiring sartorial choices, didn’t create this nation by quietly nodding their heads at King George in disapproval. They did it by issuing a long, detailed, and rather impolite list of complaints. That, my friends, is patriotic. That’s how you love a country: by demanding it be better, by holding its feet to the fire, by making sure the bastards running it remember who they work for.
Remember, while we may not be a true or functioning democracy, we do have the right to vote, at least for now. And part of that civic function to choose our leaders is the freedom to question their morals, their vision, and their vision for America. Yet, from the ‘Merica-loving constituents of MAGA, any critique of the current administration, any questioning of nationalistic dogma, is deemed an act of betrayal. It’s a peculiar twist, this notion that to love America means to be uncritically enamored with every policy, every pronouncement, every questionable Truth Social (it pains my heart to even mention that name) feed emanating from the halls of power. It suggests a deep insecurity, a fear that the grand edifice might just be held together with duct tape, chewing gum, and wishful thinking. A truly strong nation, like a truly strong individual, can take a punch, absorb a bit of constructive criticism, and even admit when it’s fucked things up (remember Afghanistan? Iraq? Vietnam? How about Chile?).
So, when I hear the clamor for a “purer” form of patriotism, one that brooks no dissent, I can’t help but get pissed. It’s not just un-American; it’s un-American in the purest sense of the word: we are a nation of professional complainers, founded by people who couldn’t get along with their own countries, and rebelled because they didn’t want to pay taxes. At its finest, America is a land built on the exquisite art of the grievance. To abandon that noble tradition of criticism in favor of some kind of forced, saccharine allegiance is to abandon the very spirit that made this whole improbable(and apparently fading) experiment work in the first place.
Bitch. Loudly, and often. It’s not just healthy, it is damn-straight American.