Good people replace the toilet paper roll … and that doesn’t mean simply putting a new roll on top of the old one’s cardboard tube, Butters. Good people settle their electric bill before moving to a new place. Good people stop whining about how superficial sorority rush is and freaking do something about it. Seriously. Good people will neither see Meet the Spartans , nor watch Fox’s “The Moment of Truth” because we, as a society, really need to stop encouraging this kind of thing. And lately, as I see us gearing up for 10 more months of election coverage, a good person understands that “nationalism” and “patriotism” don’t have to be bad words.
I’ll explain.
In mid-November, I traveled to Cambridge and Hanover to watch the men’s hockey team with three good friends. Driving home from New Hampshire at 2 a.m., through the uncharted and serpentine wilderness that is Vermont, our conversation turned political. As we argued over “The War” and “The Election,” my friend, who knows that I’m half an American Studies major, asked me a question that I imagine must haunt many idealistic students: “Has studying American history made you more or less patriotic?”
It was a difficult question to answer. It still is, and no matter how I approach it, I think I’m lying to myself. “Less patriotic!” I sometimes want to scream. “This country has done horrible things!” But answering like that makes me wonder why I still live here, and that’s a really tough debate to internalize … especially around midterms.
That night, though, I remember I stammered some response about being patriotic for things that I “no longer see in this country.” I made some canned excuse about growing apathy among youth, disinterested adults, corruption in politics and the dilution of true ideals. I’m still not sure what any of that means.
Why do I like living in the U.S.? Someone from the Cornell American once handed me a quarter-card that read, “Can America survive?” I remember saying, “Gosh, I hope so! All my stuff’s here.”
Recently, though, I had a profoundly patriotic experience while sitting in a jam-packed Jerusalem convention center. The experience reminded me of just what it is that makes being an American enjoyable: we, as a nation, refuse to agree on things, and that’s pretty cool (to a point).
I was in the Middle East on a Birthright trip. Anyone who’s been on a Birthright trip can tell you that the so-called “Mega Event” is pretty “Mega Awkward,” but ours was especially unique because, with the exception of 80 Cornellians and 40 or so Wesleyan students, nearly everyone there was representing their country, their homeland, not some university they chose to attend. Oh my! Were they loud!
The Brazilians and the Argentines had their ceaseless Olés, the Aussies had their deafening Oys, and even the Poles, who couldn’t find a Polish flag to wave, had a grand time holding giant red and white felt rectangles next to each other.
But as Americans we had nothing. No cheers. At least, nothing that wasn’t too elitist, or too religious. The kids from Wesleyan tried to raise a few “USA! USA!” shouts, but nothing came of it. The Cornellians mustered their brainpower and were able to organize a few bars of the Gary Glitter song from Lynah, but the Australians didn’t know what a ‘sieve’ was, so we gave up. Go, go gadget Jingoism!
Hey, Argentina! The Falkland Islands called, and they said, ‘You suck!’
Right about the time our attempt to sing Team America’s “America: Fuck Yeah!” failed, it dawned on me that observing how vocally patriotic other countries are made me feel good about being an outsider — an American who knows that everyone in his country can celebrate their patriotism (like their favorite religion or their favorite sports team) in a private way.
While the other countries had to show their unity and nationalism by screaming louder than their neighbors, the Americans were able to show theirs by sitting in the rear, calmly observing. We all had different ideas of how we wished the rest of the world (the filled convention center) to see us, and rather than represent the USA en masse, we each, all 120 or so of us, became his or her own pep rally. Regardless of party alignment, age, sex, statehood, we all thought of our own things to wish we were shouting:
Hey Australia! Our nations committed similar acts of genocide against defenseless native peoples! (Clap-clap, clap-clap-clap!)
So now as we sit glued to our televisions for 10 more months of election coverage before someone saves us from whatever perdition both parties swear the other will provide, I have to say that I’m pretty darn patriotic. I like living in a country where we feel awkward singing “God Bless America” just because we have nothing else to say. I like living in a country where we don’t have a rehearsed call-and-response cheer that often seems too orderly to be genuine. I like living in a country where I get to complain about my country, and if I’m nostalgic for a perfect United States that never actually existed (it never actually existed), that’s okay too, so long as we fight tooth and nail to bring that strange dream closer to fruition.