“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
This is on anyone’s short list of the most important sentences in human history. It summarizes the founding concept of a new republic. But it also implies, hidden between its lines, the country’s original sin, a restrictive definition of “all men.” In one sentence, the promise of a new “city on a hill” built using divine blueprints, and the curse that it must be constructed from the crooked timber of humanity.
For most of my life, the majority of the country revered the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence. We celebrated the good works of the United States, including wars against tyranny and innovations that raised the world out of poverty and disease. We acknowledged that there were ways the founding (and the Founders) fell short, especially the acceptance of slavery as a legal institution. But despite that, we saw a country where, year on year, opportunity improved, racial animus lessened, and we slowly (admittedly too slowly) approached a time where we could see those ideals fully realized. We idolized the heroes who moved us closer to that day: President Lincoln, Martin Luthor King, Jr, and Rosa Parks among many others.
We also agreed upon and expected certain norms about how our civics played out. There was a right to protest and assembly, but there was also a process for change. We accepted elections and their results, and we allowed a healthy space for “agree to disagree.” Even if it wasn’t really a quote, we treated Voltaire’s “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it” as if it was a postscript on the Bill of Rights.
But that’s not our current moment, is it? We have a number of forces that explicitly reject the idea that a pluralistic society can exist.
Some tie this to race, believing there is something uniquely evil about the racism of the European who migrated to North America. Because of this poison present at the planting of Jefferson’s “Tree of Liberty,” any fruit that issues from it must be rejected. At the same time, this movement sees something understandable and at times even laudable about prejudice against the original migrants’ descendants. By definition, only certain populations can be racist.
And racism is just one critical lens through which one can obtain a distorted vision of the United States. One can view the country as sustained through numerous forces that perpetuate injustice, including race, gender, sexual identity, and wealth. It’s possible to create a view of these intersecting forces that removes agency from an individual. If the country is really nothing more than many layers of institutional repression, it isn’t much of a leap to decide it should be ripped out, root and branch.
I admit, I didn’t always take this view seriously. I used to see it as youthful pushing against boundaries. Hadn’t universities, where this theory originated, always been a place for questioning authority? Surely, when these ideas “met the real world” they’d be seen for what they were, antithetical to the freedoms of society. In a country that was, by any measure, less racist, sexist, and classist than at any point in history, wouldn’t the energy for reform be best spent continuing the progress?
But that’s not what’s happening. Institutions are under siege from within. The values of pluralism and human equality have been challenged. There is a new doctrine that seeks to replace racism with what it calls “anti-racism” but which really only seeks to see the owners of Orwell’s infamous human face and stomping boot trade places. The new movement is explicit in its desire to take the reins of power, but makes no apologies in its goal to move to the stage of Animal Farm where the new boss is the same as the old.
Still. You can’t tear something in half without pulling in two directions, and we are seeing that now.
Part of that civics I grew up with was less about laws and more about norms. There were things you simply didn't do. Those running for office recognized that preserving the overall process of peaceful transition was more important than a single victory. You understood that the whole of the United States was more than the parts of temporary political triumph. You didn’t talk about tearing things down and rebuilding them with just those who agree with you in charge. And you sure as Hell didn’t storm the Capitol when you lost an election.
This matters. Not because there was a realistic chance of overturning the Presidential election, but because norms matter. Civility matters. Each time we reject a practice because we find past custom too constraining, we pull one more thread out of the fabric of our culture. It is a big and glorious tapestry stretching back centuries, but it can only take so much. If you pull one thread too many, you reach a point where it is very hard to ever stitch it back together.
We have two major political parties, and they are dominated by their extreme wings. Despite majority support for a middle ground on a host of contentious issues, compromise and collaboration are vanishingly rare. We have two sides that have a vision for a future that does not include the other, and they don’t seem to care who or what gets destroyed along the way to achieving it.
If you are ignorant of history, tearing down the current system and rebuilding it in your image may have some appeal. “Surely I’ll be a better ruler than those who came before? If people like me are the ones in charge, the country will be better off.” (the post-script “Or least, I’ll be better off” is left unsaid).
It is such a common sentiment, “burn it all down,” that I’d like to make a small detour to a place where that sentiment was fully realized. Like Scrooge’s third ghost, I extend my hand to you for a trip to Independence Day Yet to Come.
My detour is to my deployment with the US Army in Iraq. I was there in 2010, during the second round of elections. It was a heady time, full of optimism. I attended a joint US/Iraq medical conference, joined by Iraqi expatriates returning from abroad. Iraq had always had one of the highest rates of per capita doctoral degrees in the Arab world, and the removal of Saddam Hussein had brought them home. They had such optimism about a pluralistic society re-emerging. Our pride at helping them was dwarfed by theirs in planning to rebuild their country.
It didn’t happen. Sadly, Iraq’s old divisions reasserted. It descended into sectarian fighting. That’s where we’re headed, too.
You can consider this a forecast, but I don’t see what’s coming from this as a predicted outcome. I see it as a replay of what’s already happened, so often through history. I have been to our future, and I know how it ends.
Badly.
It doesn’t end with a stable new order, built on pure principles of either the Left or the Right. It ends with a new definition of morality that comes, not from inalienable rights, but by the proclamations of those in control. Political power in that world comes, not from Jefferson’s “consent of the governed,” but from Stalin’s “barrel of a gun.”
This path leads to the Great Experiment of the United States being ripped apart. It results in division and ultimately violence. It ends, not with the triumph of any noble ideal, but with massive bloodshed and horrific violation of human rights. It ends with a weakened and partitioned America and a world orchestrated to the values of the leaders of China.
I have come to realize those in charge of the movements and parties sowing this division are either unaware of history or, more likely, cynical in their opportunism. There is money and prestige in the moment, created by the anger and resentment they sow. Outraged is engaged, after all, and hatred and fear motivate donations more than optimism. Neither side has a clear vision of the future beyond the conflict. This is not an intellectual movement at all. It is a revolution.
And as such, it must be opposed.
“Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction.” - Ronald Reagan
It’s now the turn of my generation to answer Reagan’s call, to stand up and defend. The time for being silent, for hoping the ruckus will die down, that the kids (and the adults) will embrace the founding principles of America is over. The time to say “not on my watch” has arrived.
So, as we approach Independence Day, I ask everyone who still is stirred by that great sentence I started with to stand. Join me in celebrating the values of freedom and equality. I think you will find that there is a quiet majority who share a love and a passion for America, but who need to hear others speak it out loud. Commit to making our country live up to, not abandon, its mission.
It’s our turn now.
It falls to us to “nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best hope of Earth.”
Cheers, y’all
And Happy Independence Day.
This piece was beautifully articulated. You voiced the very same concerns that i have had with the movement in our culture and institutions that calls the very foundations of our wonderful heritage and unprecedented freedoms into question by re-framing everything good as bad, inverting reality and ignoring how amazing our system truly is. Thank you.
We need a renewal from the center, built from the ground up; not motivated by a particular policy or a particular person, but simply the restoration of the foundational principles that have made the American experiment the best thing in the(political) history of the world. And we must start in the place where real citizens have a competitive advantage: Actual conversations, in person, face to face, with other human beings. Slow, yes. Annoying, yes. But also effective, also humane, and also totally beyond the reach of the powerful.