On Patriotism

To honor one’s ancestors and homeland belongs to the perennial wisdom of humanity and, accordingly, is found enshrined in the sacred laws of all tribes, peoples, and tongues. It seems to me both a natural and reasonable sentiment. Feelings of kinship and attachment to home are basic drives that promote social stability, which, though far from the absolute value is nevertheless a valuable thing, as anyone who has ever driven on an unstable road will appreciate.

The Decalogue that Jahveh Sabaoth imparted to the Children of Israel makes this precept — “Honor thy father and mother” — the pivot point at which focus turns from religious duties to the civil duties owed towards one's neighbors — “Honor thy father and thy mother; that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” The commandment contains a promise of civil stability. The connection between the two seems clear: familial affection forms the basis for learning to widen the circumference of affection. In other words, loving families tend to make reliable, generous neighbors. Without these natural affections, what is there to hold communities together except the unmoving mathematics of rarefied reason or fear of the cold, naked force of the state? And without the healthy love of those near us, what hope is there that affection may be extended to strangers and aliens?

I know that many of my friends do not agree and find this a dangerous fault. Nevertheless, I confess that the feeling of patriotism arises naturally in my breast. The strains of some familiar patriotic song are, to me, as warm and comforting as a mother's embrace, stirring up hope and courage within me. Like any love, though, this natural impulse is liable to abuse and extremes. Indeed, it has been abused by the extreme. Yet the abuse of a thing is not necessarily an argument against the thing itself. Patriotism seems to me no more necessarily inclined towards jingoism or blind nationalism than pride in one's children, family, or home will make one unkind, disdainful, or violent to other families, whom, one expects, are also proud of their own unique characteristics, strengths, and accomplishments. Fear of the other motivates the injustice of jingoism as much if not more than does love for the familiar.

We must certainly refuse, as Ananias, Azarias, and Misael, to worship the Emperor. Idolizing one’s nation, government, or head-of-state makes an absolute good out of a relative, limited, and partial good, thereby raising it above the laws and values by which it out to be judged. Such worship not only blinds us to existing faults, it fosters more faults, by removing necessary checks on the exercise of arbitrary power. We must reject idolatry. 

But, granting priority to the first and second commandments, we can and should still obey the fifth. Rightly honoring parents and whatever other authorities providence has established requires recognizing them as relative, limited, and partial goods that promote further good — recalling the promise attached the fifth commandment: “that your days may be long in the land which the Lord your God gives you.” 

Even in such an ungodly empire as Rome, Saints Peter and Paul enjoined giving honor to the emperor as the minister of the Omnipotent for our common good (that is, as a relative power, subject to superior authority). It is fitting to express gratitude for whatever degree of peace and stability the civil realm and its constitution has afforded us to make our homes, to lead quiet and peaceable lives in all godliness, and to enjoy the kindly fruits of the earth. This seems all the more so the case if, by the inventory of our blessings, we find the realm we call home (with its laws, institutions, and government) has proven reliable through generations in maintaining enough safety, liberty, and civic-mindedness to promote the flourishing of the people and their interests.

It seems to me that a people that cannot join together in expressions of gratitude for shared blessings (however partial) will also find it difficult to come together for other necessary causes like the maintenance and repair of their institutions and deliberation over public concerns. We must draw enough conscientious and scrupulous people to civil service as an anchor against the power-hungry and narcissistic in high office, of which there will never be a shortage. If there is no shared love for the house, who will surrender any private interests to its much needed improvement?

Patriotism should not make one blind to faults and failures. Many of my friends feel strongly that in the face of so many faults, moral people should not celebrate their nations. Such feelings are understandable. But would we refuse to celebrate the birthdays of children or parents because we are aware of their faults and failures? I hope not, because the love expressed in such celebrations can help to motive them to fulfill their potential, reform faults, and seek the good. Patriotic feeling does sometimes involve wearing rose-colored glasses, as all affection does, but it can also drive us to improve, to aspire to arête, to build on our strengths, work on our weaknesses, and strive to embody our ideals. Patriotism, rather than a license for injustice, should motive reform, which is as much necessary for the maintenance of stability and preservation of peace as any defensive bulwark, boat, or bullet.

Like the old Hebrew Prophets, it is sometimes the part of duty to lament and to criticize relentlessly. Oftentimes those who call for repentance — turning away from what misses the mark — in the midst of general complacency or ignorance will themselves be called unpatriotic, as was the prophet Jeremy. But none loved Jerusalem more than Jeremiah. He wept for her, pleaded with her, condemned her failure, and foretold her fall not because he sought her destruction, but because he longed for her peace and prosperity — a just, moral prosperity (the only kind that truly honors father and mother). To many of his countrymen, Paul of Tarsus was a traitor and trouble-maker, a disturber of the peace, and yet his heart ached with such love for his people that he wrote, “I wish that I myself were accursed for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh!”

If terrible lack of justice makes some unwilling to celebrate national festivals, I hope those who do observe such festivals respect the integrity that prompts such abstention and protest. May such righteous indignation rise as prayers that bring regenerative rain to produce fruit worthy of repentance. I also hope those who do not celebrate appreciate that not all those who do are either blind towards or — worse still — proud of injustice. Rather, they celebrate the ideals, aspirations, and fortitude that led to whatever their ancestors have imperfectly accomplished in hopes that many more of their noble ideals may be realized more perfectly in years to come. May such public displays of patriotism promote generosity, motivate neighborliness, and make us mindful of our duties.