As I think about the U.S. commemorating our 250th anniversary, I am consumed with substantially more questions than answers, from the philosophical, to the existential, to the practical: What does it mean to establish a nation based on an idea — or an ideal? Will America endure another 250 years? What is a patriot?
That last question is particularly vexing in part because nobody gets to decide the answer. Or, more specifically, literally everyone gets to decide the answer. The contours of patriotism are essential to understand, given that the fabric of our nation is rapidly fraying. That fact is rendered even more poignant given that our Declaration of Independence begins not with a statement about unity, but with a statement about division. Indeed, while the Declaration begins retrospectively, today it feels prescient:
“When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with one other…”
Precedent to the much better-known statement “We hold these truths to be self-evident…” is the notion that life can arise from death, at least when speaking politically. Thomas Jefferson, as the lead author of the “Committee of Five” (men) who wrote the Declaration, chose his words with a surgeon’s precision. He set out to communicate esoteric ideas as clearly as possible.
Of course, authors have only so much control over their words. Once they are written, uttered, or otherwise made public, the author cedes meaning to their audience. People often argue that words have two meanings, so let’s start there. One meaning of a word is denotative; the other is connotative. A “dictionary definition” is denotative; the way in which words are used is connotative.
Connotation is, essentially, an agreement among people regarding what words can mean in a given context — regardless of its dictionary definition. We call that agreement “social construction.” Since words are socially constructed, their meanings can change over time and/or in different places. Thus, as a practical matter, connotation is nearly always more important than denotation. But there’s the rub! Connotation and context can have catastrophic consequences.
For example, a patriot is usually considered to be someone who fights on behalf of his or her government. Thus, during the American Revolution, a patriot (or “loyalist”) was someone who fought for the British. However, today those people (e.g., Benedict Arnold) are considered traitors. And consider this: If the upstart “rebels” had lost the war, George Washington might have been hung — as a traitor.
I raise all this because of the breathtaking irony of what is happening in our nation today. As a key example, tens of millions of Americans believe that the people who attacked the U.S. Capitol on January 6th — at the behest of the President of the United States — are patriots. (Then again, millions of conspiracy theorists believe that the insurrection was “staged”.)
When words lose all logical meaning — when we value connation über alles — we enter the Theatre of the Absurd. Tragically, that is where our nation is today. Disinformation often prevails over truth. Ignorance is exalted while knowledge is debased. Fascism is in favor as democracy clings to life. Were he alive, Camus would smile knowingly, though in disgust, at America’s current reality. Washington and Jefferson would be befuddled, angry, and inconsolable.
It is unconscionable that America is drifting so closely to fascism as it is nearing its 250th birthday. As has always been the case historically, fascism gains a foothold by bastardizing patriotism. While that particular “f-word” has been applied willy-nilly in the recent past, it is absolutely applicable in our nation today. For example, engaging in unflinching loyalty to the head of state as he unmoors a nation from its legal, social and moral foundation is a predicate to fascism.
History teaches us that a nation’s march toward fascism is obvious in retrospect; it also teaches us that there are always people who risk their livelihood, and even their lives, in attempting to halt its march. (Bonhoeffer comes to mind.) The problem is that people who are convinced that they’re right can be difficult to convert. Why couldn’t Jesus change the Pharisees? They didn’t know that they were the problem.
This danger has always lurked in America. As he was leaving the Constitutional Convention in 1787, Benjamin Franklin was asked by Elizabeth Willing Powel whether the newly formed nation was a republic or a monarchy. Franklin immediately responded tersely, “A republic, if you can keep it.”
Just seven years ago, Nikole Hannah-Jones and her collaborators at The New York Times released “The 1619 Project.” Many academicians and pundits weighed in to argue about whether it was accurate, moral, logical or even patriotic to propose that America’s “real” founding was in 1619 (as opposed to 1776). They decided to pick apart every minute inaccuracy, real or perceived, and to challenge virtually every argument.
One wonders whether those critics of “The 1619 Project” have the same reaction to the people, (mis)led by the president, who are engaging in a full-frontal assault on our democracy as we near July 4th. Arguing vociferously about symbolism and rhetorical gesturing is so quaint in comparison to passively witnessing the destruction of our nation in real time.
I would give anything to be able to ask Crispus Attucks whether it was worth it.
Contact community leader Larry Smith at larry@leaf.llc.com. For more, visit indianapolisrecorder.com or indianaminoritybusinessmagazine.com.
