Clicking on banner ads enables JWR to constantly improve
Jewish World Review May 29, 2001 / 7 Sivan, 5761

George Will

George Will
JWR's Pundits
World Editorial
Cartoon Showcase

Mallard Fillmore

Michael Barone
Mona Charen
Linda Chavez
Ann Coulter
Greg Crosby
Larry Elder
Don Feder
Suzanne Fields
James Glassman
Paul Greenberg
Bob Greene
Betsy Hart
Nat Hentoff
David Horowitz
Marianne Jennings
Michael Kelly
Mort Kondracke
Ch. Krauthammer
Lawrence Kudlow
Dr. Laura
John Leo
David Limbaugh
Michelle Malkin
Jackie Mason
Chris Matthews
Michael Medved
Kathleen Parker
Wes Pruden
Sam Schulman
Amity Shlaes
Roger Simon
Tony Snow
Thomas Sowell
Cal Thomas
Jonathan S. Tobin
Ben Wattenberg
Bruce Williams
Walter Williams
Mort Zuckerman

Consumer Reports

Complexities of patriotism -- DECORATION DAY, as it was called when Americans still vividly remembered what it was they were supposed to be remembering, used to be May 30, no matter what, never mind the pleasures, commercial and recreational, of a three-day weekend. An upstate New York town with a militarily resonant name -- Waterloo -- began the tradition in 1866, and in 1868 May 30 was designated "for the purpose of strewing with flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion." Walter Berns, who is 82 and grew up in Chicago, remembers Memorial Day (as it was renamed after World War I) parades up Michigan Avenue still featuring a few Civil War veterans, national heirlooms as fragile as porcelains.

Berns, a former professor of political philosophy and still very much a philosopher, at the American Enterprise Institute, has just published a profound book, "Making Patriots," a timely mediation on a paradox: For Americans, patriotism is especially vigorous -- and peculiarly problematic.

For Spartans, patriotism was not problematic: Even the gods were the city's gods. But with the coming of Christianity, with its distinction between what should be rendered to Caesar and what to G-d, patriotism became complex, and especially so after the Reformation's multiplication of Christian denominations. When Martin Luther stood before the authorities and said "Ich kann nicht anders" -- "I cannot do otherwise" -- he asserted the primacy of individual judgment, which made the claims of patriotism conditional.

However, patriotism, although now conditioned by other loyalties, still was, as it had been for Spartans, parochial: It was entirely about a particular people and their traditions. Then came something new: America.

In a nation founded on "self-evident principles," principles purportedly of universal validity, patriotism involved more than looking inward and backward. Berns notes that in our creedal nation, the first nation not based on tradition, a word frequently heard in other nations' backward-looking patriotisms -- "fatherland" -- has no place. Our Founding Fathers are revered primarily for their creed, which was their greatest deed.

But the creed contains a problem for patriotism. The creed says we are endowed by our creator with rights, not duties, and that we grudgingly and conditionally surrender limited powers to government only to escape the "inconveniences" (John Locke's carefully chosen word) of the state of nature. So we become citizens out of self-interest. Of what kind of patriotism are such people capable?

The answer -- fierce patriotism -- is written in row upon row of stone markers in military cemeteries. Alexander Hamilton, one of General Washington's aides during the Revolutionary War, wrote (in Federalist No. 8) that "the industrious habits of the people of the present day, absorbed in the pursuits of gain and devoted to the improvements of agriculture and commerce," do not make for good soldiers. Hamilton was wrong.

What Lincoln called "the silent artillery of time" has done its work, reducing to mental rubble our understanding of the origin of Memorial Day in the decoration of the graves of a war that killed 620,000 Americans, about 1.8 percent of the population in 1865. Two of Lincoln's greatest speeches, his First Inaugural and his Gettysburg Address, invoke soldiers' graves. The former concluded by invoking "the mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone." The latter was delivered at the dedication of a military cemetery.

Human beings are biological facts, patriots are social artifacts, and much has changed since John Jay said (in Federalist No. 2) that Americans were "a people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion." Now we are more "diverse."

But we were even then more diverse than Jay's words suggested. Aside from 757,000 slaves (in a total American population of 3.9 million), there were, for example, enough Americans who spoke only German that Congress seriously considered printing laws in German as well as English.

And again, in our nation, patriotism is creedal, not ancestral. Many ardent patriots who have recently arrived here know, better than some people with many ancestors buried here, precisely why they are patriotic.

In 1991, Florida, in a fit of the modern spirit of "nonjudgmentalism" and "multiculturalism" and all that, enacted a statute requiring public schools to teach that no culture "is intrinsically superior or inferior to another." Well. As Berns says, this told Florida's immigrant communities something they knew to be preposterous -- that they might as well have stayed in Cuba or Haiti or wherever.

To them, especially: Happy Decoration Day.

Comment on JWR contributor George Will's column by clicking here.


George Will Archives

© 2001, Washington Post Writer's Group