Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, an appropriate time to take stock of one’s blessings. But were I to say grace at the Thanksgiving table, one shout-out I would not issue would be a big hosanna to the Lord God, thanking Him for making the United States the greatest country on Earth, and praying to Him that other countries might recognize and accept our moral superiority, and emulate us in everything they do.
OK, first, I’ll concede that it’s difficult for me to envision any scenario in which I’d be leading a group of diners in prayer, unless the invocation were to be something vague, light and rhyming—like, say, “Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub!” I’m an agnostic at best who thinks the Creator of the Universe, if there is one, likely isn’t so closely engaged in our lives that He/She/It is monitoring our dinnertime patter (let alone willing our various sports teams to victory). I might as well note, too, that Lynn and I will be joining friends tomorrow for a meatless, dairy-free Tofurky Day feast, and that your typical lefty-vegan gathering isn’t, frankly, a big Jesus fest.
But be all that as it may, what I mean to say here is something I touched on in my November 5 post about Lynn’s and my recent vacation trip to Toronto and what makes Canada, to my mind, a very different country from the United States—despite many Americans’ tendency to view it, if they think of it at all, as little more than a colder, sparser variation on America. I cited then a number of differences between the two countries, ranging from the substantive to the silly. My wide net pulled in everything from Canada’s national health care system and strict gun laws to the fact that I’d never heard so many Guess Who and Rush B-sides on “classic rock” radio. My focus today, however, is this passage from my earlier post about what makes Canada “foreign”: “the self-denigration and national inferiority complex that turns America’s belief in its own exceptionalism on its head.”
Now, I’m not here to psychoanalyze Canada and determine why I returned there after many years absence to find that national defensiveness and insecurity still seem to reign supreme. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that when you share thousands of miles of border with a swaggering world power that’s constantly waving its cajones in your face, you’re either going to unzip your national pants and try to fight balls with balls or, noting that America’s about a zillion times more populous and brash and relentless, shrink back and meekly protest that you never wanted to play in the stupid bully’s league, anyway.
Let’s stop here for a second and define “exceptionalism.” TheFreeDictionary.com calls it “an attitude toward other countries, cultures, etc, based on the idea [that one’s own country is] quite distinct from, and often superior to, them in vital ways.” More than an attitude, it has become a political philosophy for a certain subset of Americans who hold that America, as only they define and envision it, is the Way, the Truth and Light. That philosophy consigns fault-finding with this vision to that despicable group that the most Exceptional of politicians, Sarah Palin, would call the “haters.”
There was a great op-ed piece on this subject recently in the Washington Post, written by Matt Miller, a senior fellow at the (hater-funded and -backed) Center for American Progress. Headlined “Ohhh America, You’re So Strong,” it led by asking, “Does anyone else think there’s something a little insecure about a country that requires its politicians to constantly declare how exceptional it is?” He added, “A populace in need of this much reassurance may be the surest sign of looming national decline.”
“American exceptionalism,” Miller observed, “is now the central theme of Sarah Palin’s speeches. The supposedly insufficient Democratic commitment to this idea will be a core Republican complaint in 2012. Conservatives assail Barack Obama for his alleged indifference to it. It’s part of their broader indictment of Obama's fishy cosmopolitanism, his overseas ‘apology tours,’ his didn’t-wear-the-flag-lapel-pin-until-he-had-to peevishness. Not to mention the whole anti-colonial Kenyan resentment thing the president’s got going.”
While emphasizing that he loves his country and the ideals on which it was founded, Miller noted, quite reasonably, it seems to me, that the United States is hardly without faults, and that it is, rather, continually and endlessly evolving toward that “more perfect union” described in the Preamble to the US Constitution.
“You can tell a lot about a country by what it requires its politicians to do to win,” Miller pointed out. “In Switzerland, do candidates have to proclaim that ‘Switzerland is the greatest nation ever created in human history’? In Brazil, do ambitious pols insist that 'Brazil is the most special country ever to grace the world’? Isn't ‘great’ or ‘really, really great’ enough?”
“Not in America, dammit,” he answered his own question. Miller quoted from the recent victory speech of Republican US Senator-elect Marco Rubio of Florida, a Tea Party darling who some political handicappers already are adding to the short list for GOP presidential nominee in 2012. Savoring his big win, Rubio declared that “Americans believe with all their heart that United States of America is simply the single greatest nation in all of human history, a place without equal in the history of all of mankind.” He described his Senate race as “a referendum on our identity” that “forces us to answer a very simple question: Do we want our country to continue to be exceptional, or are we prepared for it to become just like everyone else?”
Wait a minute! According to my birth certificate, I’m an American. But, while I appreciate the American democracy’s pivotal place in world history and global thought, and while I do think we deserve some credit for having tried much harder than have many other countries to Do the Right Thing, domestically and internationally, throughout our existence as a nation, let’s face it, there’s a lot about America that is far less than exemplary. I doubt we’re even the greatest nation of the year 2010, let alone through the history of all of mankind, though I’m too ill-traveled and not well-read enough to assert with complete confidence which nation or nations I’d deem more deserving of the title.
I mean, c’mon! Just look at our unemployment levels, income gulf, crime rate, gun use and abuse, historically unjust health care system (no matter what Mitch McConnell says), environmental irresponsibility … you name it. Not to mention our vastly inconsistent and contradictory foreign policies that often result in everything from needless tragedy to well-meaning but poorly executed actions that contribute to our pariah standing in much of the world. Anybody who thinks America doesn’t have problems is refusing to pay attention.
Miller has a theory about what’s going on here. “The conservative use of American exceptionalism as a political sword today is perversely revealing,” he wrote in his recent op-ed piece. “There’s something off when the first generation of Americans that is less educated than its parents feels a deep need to be told how unique it is. Or when a generation that’s handing off epic debts and a chronically dysfunctional political process (among other woes) demands that its leaders keep toasting its fabulousness. Especially when other nations now offer more upward mobility, and a better blend of growth with equity, than we do—arguably the best measures of America's once-exceptional national performance.”
It’s Miller’s conviction that what America needs, rather than to have its ego constantly stroked by pandering, self-serving politicians who have no constructive blueprint for improving the national performance (hence the “Ohhh, America, You’re So Strong” headline), is some “real answers” from its lawmakers and self-styled Big Thinkers. “Wouldn’t we be better off striving to be exceptional at solving our common problems?” Miller asks.
I have to think we would. I have to think, furthermore, that if we’re to make any progress addressing, let alone solving, the many challenges we face as a nation, we’d do well to stop questioning the loyalty and patriotism of those who suggest we can do better, to avoid getting so wrapped up in the flag that we restrict our ability to respond to real problems, and to focus not on some exalted, static sense of greatness but, rather, to strive for the future that the "angels of our better nature" (per Lincoln) envision.
I’m as thankful as is any Tea Partier to live in a stable democracy with a high standard of living. But I guess I would hope that anyone who feels tempted to thank God for America’s exceptionalism at the Thanksgiving table instead would consider the many definitions of the word “grace.” They include “a disposition to be generous” and “a sense of fitness or propriety.” What could be more fitting for a global role model than to learn from its mistakes and share that wisdom with the world?
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A follow-up to my November 12 post, “She Done Him Wrong”: I was surprised that the DC jury found Ingmar Guandique guilty beyond a reasonable doubt of first-degree murder in the 2001 death of Chandra Levy, given the complete lack of direct evidence. I was not surprised, however, by the post-verdict comments of Bert Fields, ex-Congressman Gary Condit’s lawyer.
“At least Gary Condit can [now] find some measure of closure to this nightmare,” said Fields, whose boss was mum on the subject—presumably so as not to steal thunder from his forthcoming book about how Levy's disappearance in effect ruined his life. “[The verdict] is a complete vindication, but it comes a little late," Fields sighed. "Who gives [Condit] his career back?”
Not to rehash everything I’ve already written, but, again: Whose nightmare, exactly, was this horrific slaying? What caused the career implosion—the rush to judgment by the police and news media, or the immensely unsympathetic public persona Condit presented? Finally, does “vindication” mean Gary Condit never was, and isn’t now, a self-centered ass?
Yes, the career is gone. But the Passion of the Christ continues.
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