When Aleksandr Isaevich Solzhenitsyn delivered a brief address to a town hall meeting in Cavendish, Vermont, where he had lived for eighteen years with his family, in exile from Communist Russia, he paid poignant homage to “the sensible and sure process of grassroots democracy, in which the local population solves most of its problems on its own, not waiting for the decisions of higher authorities.” He declared also that, while “exile is always difficult,” he “could not imagine a better place to live, and wait, and wait for my return home,” than that little town. He expressed his gratitude for its respect for his privacy, and spoke warmly of its neighborliness. For his children, “Vermont is home,” for they have grown up “alongside your children.”
With a “God bless you all,” the great Russian finished — to a hearty ovation from those snowbound New Englanders.
That “sensible and sure democracy” is the American political tradition in summary. Solzhenitsyn, like Tocqueville before him, readily perceived the importance of this self-government of the township in American history. But the most striking thing about it, which stands in defiance of so much else in America, is its essential smallness. It is not grandiose but rather modest; it does boast of its expansiveness, but takes pride in its limitation, from which it takes its form.
There is much in America that is big and bulky and boisterous; and the paradox is that the foundation of our political tradition is indelibly small and unobtrusive: self-government on the scale of an organic community of freemen. In The Federalist the very smallness of our system, by a feat of theoretical genius, is conceived as the ground upon which to construct what Jefferson later would call an empire of liberty. Thousands of sensible but sure democracies, organized together into larger communities of the several States, would together unite into a vast Republic, and stand free and brave among the nations of the earth.
It is a very fine ideal. But even as an ideal it was always tightly tethered to the continual hubbub and practice of self-government. More than that the Republic was consecrated by sensible and sure statesmen in many of her formative years. Few were pure “idea men.” They were mostly well-educated, thoroughly introduced to the classics of human thought; but at base men of action. And of virtue.
Nor should we deceive ourselves that such men were really the norm in that age — or any age. In truth the early Republic was crawling with adventurers and charlatans, with opportunities and energumens. Duels were a common sight. The “wild unknown country” beckoned the ambitious, the delinquent, the nefarious. Finance was erratic and ungoverned. Burr and Wilkinson, the latter in the pay of the Spanish, conspired at insurrection in Louisiana. Burr conspired with British and Spanish agents to carve out an autocracy in Mexico. They had accomplices, stoolies, mountebanks, swindlers, bankrupt capitalists, mercenaries and the like all swirling around them like flies. The Republic fought a war against pirates.
The fact that Burr was Vice President and not Autocrat; and the fact that Wilkinson’s prudence impelled him to betray the former to Jefferson; and a dozen other such facts with which I am not familiar — only demonstrates what a miracle the United States of America has been.
So even in this bare sketch we see that the “idea” of America is bound down or anchored in (1) sensible and sure small democracies, that is, a lived tradition of self government, (2) wise and prudent statesmen, (3) the virtue of her rulers, and (4) good fortune. By my count that is one abstraction set against four real facts or practicalities.
What then should we make of the school of thought which would construct in our minds an America that is made up of abstractions only, or ideas foremost? What should we make of the theory that what is best, most memorial, admirable, great, unique, etc., about America is the idea alone; a theory often advanced so fervently, not to say feverishly, that not rarely does in tend toward derision or haughty dismissal of the facts or practicalities?
I think we should make of it that it is false and pernicious.
To me, though the ideas forming our abstractions, our “abbreviations of traditions,” in Michael Oakeshott’s phrase, are certainly admirable and interesting, what is really more interesting are these facts or practicalities, and the Providence which brought them together here on our shores. What great good fortune it is that our high and noble ideals — ideals which with some variation became monstrous in the hands of the French — were infused by the grit and experience of all those sensible and sure democracies! How the hand of Providence blessed us by our leaders! And so on.
Moreover, the ideals are rather easy to replicate — as abstractions. Any merely competent wordsmith with a bit of learning may write up a constitution for a republic. Any fool may declare his love of democracy.
What is rather more difficult to replicate, however, is a lived tradition of self-government. There is indeed still some puzzle and consternation over the most reliable way to raise up virtuous leaders. There is no abstraction by which we may discover the secret to grasping and holding capricious Fortuna. And only by terrible pride or crippling flippancy would we dare to force the hand of Providence.
This is my challenge to all the Propositionalists, the Creedal Nationalists, the Ideological Patriots, the Abstractors of America:
Now and then, fellas, set aside the abstractions and ideals; or if you must discuss them in earnest, make sure your discussions are grounded emphatically in the American tradition and not in some alien accretion brought in by the Liberalism that has dominated our academics for 60 years.
Instead, focus your attention now and then on the practicalities, the facts, the Providence or Fortuna which grounded the American Republic. Discover how and why Abraham Lincoln developed his rhetorical genius — that “Lincoln music,” as Shelby Foote calls it — not from the abstractions of theorists but the rough realism of the backcountry, and the King James Bible. Study The Federalist carefully, read it as a unity, as you would a great work of statesmanship and philosophy, which it is, and report on what you learn. Purchase this magnificent volume, offered at a remarkably low price, and immerse yourself in political tradition of America, unfiltered by the machinations of academia. Try to recover for yourself something of our tradition at the art of Rhetoric, that quintessential political art which alone can appeal to the dual nature of man: as a creature who reasons and who feels. We were once a nation of great orators, you know. H. L. Mencken, who was not a man given to inordinate praise, wrote that “The American, from the beginning, has been the most ardent of recorded rhetoricians.” Investigate the fundamental smallness of American self-government, which caught the eye of penetrating observers like Tocqueville and Solzhenitsyn. Realize the important of limitation and self-discipline in this way of life. Come on, boys: I dare ya.
I’ll be right there with you — for this is the true work of conservatism that our country needs.
Comments (43)
Study The Federalist carefully, read it as a unity, as you would a great work of statesmanship and philosophy, which it is, and report on what you learn.
I think Kevin Gutzman (of The Politically Incorrect Guide to the Constitution) might dispute this.
Subsequent chapters examine the roots of American constitutionalism, Federalist and Anti-Federalist arguments concerning the need to protect common law rights, and the debates over whether the states or the federal government held final authority in determining the course of public policy in America.
I wonder if the book gives sufficient attention to the Southern political tradition.
Posted by T. Chan | February 8, 2008 1:21 AM
. . . make sure your discussions are grounded emphatically in the American tradition and not in some alien accretion brought in by the Liberalism that has dominated our academics for 60 years.
Surely this "alien accretion" was present at the creation of the republic. It was one of the principles upon which the nation was founded. This is what the liberals would argue, and they are right. Of course, the republic was founded on other principles too. But these were static and passive in relation to the liberal principle, which was active and formative.
Posted by George R. | February 8, 2008 9:08 AM
"Realize the important of limitation and self-discipline in this way of life."
Not likely Paul. Didn't Voegelin once say to the effect; "Liberalism lives only if it moves." It's very essence requires larger projections of itself into more remote regions of a world grown weary with the ubiquitious, omnipotent beast. The local and the particular are boring for those endowed with a messianic fervor to "share" their creed of perpetual progress.
Posted by Kevin | February 8, 2008 10:31 AM
I don't think so, George R. The older, healthier, "classical" liberal tradition certainly has much in common with the modern Liberalism of academia, with which we have the pleasure of such familiarity; but they are not an identity. Jacques Barzun writes in his book From Dawn to Decadence of the "Great Switch" of Liberalism, when Socialism took hold.
Now I am the last person to deny that even the more healthy classical liberalism of the 18th and 19th centuries was still Liberalism, and ever vulnerable to the very decay that led it to align itself with Socialists and radicals and energumens. I regularly argue against the binary view of classical liberalism=good, modern liberalism=bad.
Nevertheless, I do insist that the academics who inherited their prejudices from the Progressives and made their mark on American political science and American history and American jurisprudence, did indeed attach to our tradition an alien accretion.
T. Chan:
I don't know anything about Kevin Gutzman, but I can say with confidence that (1) anyone who denies the greatness of The Federalist is a fool and (2) The American Republic does give serious attention to Southern statesmen. John Calhoun's speech on the Compromise of 1850, for example, is reproduced in full, as is another Calhoun address. Jefferson and Madison's laying out of the Nullification doctrine is given its due. Etc.
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 8, 2008 10:34 AM
Now I am the last person to deny that even the more healthy classical liberalism of the 18th and 19th centuries was still Liberalism, and ever vulnerable to the very decay that led it to align itself with Socialists and radicals and energumens. I regularly argue against the binary view of classical liberalism=good, modern liberalism=bad.
Since what is evil has no essence and, therefore, can not be subject to decay, by saying that liberalism was vulnerable to decay, you are saying that liberalism has essence and is, therefore, good in itself.
I don't think you meant this.
Now if what you meant was, not liberalism, but the healthy part of 18th century society was subject to decay and that liberalism was the evil that made it vulnerable to greater evils, this is almost my position.
I would only add that liberalism is a principle of motion that works toward an end.
Posted by George R. | February 8, 2008 2:33 PM
Paul,
You say the following about Solzhenitsyn praise for grassroots democracy:
"But the most striking thing about it, which stands in defiance of so much else in America, is its essential smallness. It is not grandiose but rather modest; it does boast of its expansiveness, but takes pride in its limitation, from which it takes its form."
You go on to note that Lincoln's rhetoric was shaped "not from the abstractions of theorists but the rough realism of the backcountry, and the King James Bible".
Finally, you encourage me (I LIKE being called an "ideological patriot") to:
"focus your attention now and then on the practicalities, the facts, the Providence or Fortuna which grounded the American Republic."
Fair enough. But how about the facts and rhetoric (shaped by ideas) that inspired thousands of Americans to follow Lincoln's call to preserve the Union and march with Grant and Sherman to inflict devastation on the South (and got many of them killed...which is another form of "rough realism"), or Wilson's or FDR's arguments that sent thousands across the Atlantic and Pacific to wreak more devastation? I happen to support all three of these wars and I'm happy Lincoln, Wilson and FDR were able to convince the American people to fight them. But ideas do matter and it would be hard to convince me otherwise surveying these conflicts which many said at the time were NOT in America's self-interest and yet which were fought with American blood and which brought freedom and prosperity to millions, most of whom were not Americans. Add in the growth of the American economy in the 20th Century and suddenly I'm struck not by America's smallness, but by our awesome size.
I may not agree with everything he says, but I still maintain Gelernter is on to something:
http://www.amazon.com/Americanism-Fourth-Great-Western-Religion/dp/0385513127
Posted by Jeff Singer | February 8, 2008 9:57 PM
ideas do matter and it would be hard to convince me otherwise
Good thing I'm not trying to convince you otherwise. I have never argued that ideas are not important. In this post here I have only tried to demonstrate that facts and practicalities as also important, in some ways much more important. And I have also asked, "What should we make of the theory that what is best, most memorial, admirable, great, unique, etc., about America is the idea alone; a theory often advanced so fervently, not to say feverishly, that not rarely does in tend toward derision or haughty dismissal of the facts or practicalities?"
Just last week, over at Redstate, I had several commenters flat-out declare that without the ideas there would be nothing worth preserving in America. That's a despicable opinion which I intend to fight to my last breath.
As for what drives men to fight wars ... well, it seems to me it is a mixed bag. Some, indeed, are inspired by lofty ideas -- Unionism, abolitionism, etc. -- but some are driven by a desire for adventure, some by the call of duty, some, frankly, by the necessity of conscription. My view is that most men fight because they feel that their home, which they love, is threatened. Few cared about the troubles of the world until Pearl Harbor demonstrated the threat to home.
There is no question about the awesome size of America. My point about the smallness which is the fundament of our political tradition, is its very contrast with bigness in so many other things.
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 9, 2008 9:27 AM
"I had several commenters flat-out declare that without the ideas there would be nothing worth preserving in America."
Take pity on my laziness (which I freely admit) in not trying to go over and find the threads on Red State and figure out what these commentators meant. Trying to set up an "all else being equal" scenario in which somehow "everything else remains the same" but we are "without the ideas" that have shaped America is something I find very hard. What sort of country were they picturing? I guess I can see saying that if we had the spacious skies and purple mountains majesty but were governed by sharia or communism, perhaps even wholeheartedly embraced by the populace, it wouldn't be the country we know and love. I hope that isn't a despicable thing to say. But my feeling is that even that little town in Vermont was worth preserving because of various "ideas" put into practice at various levels, even the idea of neighborliness, for example. And the _country_ could, I suppose, go totally to pot and have a complete change of government even while the grassroots remained committed to such "ideas" as religious freedom, freedom of the press, and so forth. At that point I guess it would be a question of which thing one counted as "America" and how one would go about trying to preserve it.
Posted by Lydia | February 9, 2008 9:46 AM
Lydia: It looks to me like the same old dualisms[*] that we seem encounter everywhere: the notion that because it is logically possible to postulate an "all other things equal" scenario it follows that this logical possibility represents an actual possibility. This rhetorical 'disconnection' of incarnate reality from the realm of thought is pervasive in both modernity and postmodernity, it seems to me. The Christian Faith properly understood stands in stark contrast to this anti-incarnationalism.
[*]By dualism I don't mean simply distinguishing the realm of ideas from the realm of concrete particular reality as a matter of conversation, as I might discuss Sarah's ideas versus her hands, but rather treating them as if they were completely distinct: as if one could be arbitrarily varied to take on any state whatsoever without affecting the other. The notion of America under Sharia is as unreal as the notion of China as America -- the thing we are talking about in each case has ceased to be "America". It isn't as if a living man remains that man when deprived of his soul, and at least in this world it isn't as if a man remains that man deprived of his body.
So there are really three potentially distinct errors in play: the materialist error which posits nothing but matter, the idealist error which posits nothing but ideas, and a kind of Manicheaism which acknowledges both but sees them as utterly orthogonal in fact simply because it is logically possible to think about them as if they were utterly orthogonal. Some commentators on the paleo Right at least tend toward materialism; Steve Sailor comes to mind. The much more pervasive "proposition nation" types on the other hand are either idealists or manichean with respect to countries and peoples. It isn't their embrace of the spiritual/ideal aspect of the country as that country which is problemmatic, it is their rejection of the incarnate reality of the country as that country which is problemmatic. Furthermore, while one cannot utterly sever the ideal from the incarnate it is simply wrong to identify the person or nation with that person's or nation's ideas. Lawrence Auster's characterization of this as "suicide" is particularly telling: it represents an attempt to slay the body in order to free the spirit.
Posted by Zippy | February 9, 2008 10:54 AM
I would resist a separation either way. I would resist on the one hand an implication that a Middle Eastern country that embraced the various freedoms embodied in the U.S. Constitution and even Declaration of Independence really _is_ America. I doubt that it would ever happen that such a country really would _meaningfully_ embrace the American-style vision or idea of representative, constitutional democracy. But even supposing it truly did, that sharia were gone forever, Christians free to worship God, dhimmitude a thing of the past, etc. (all consummations devoutly to be wished, however improbable) it would still have a different "flavor" there than here.
On the other hand, I would also resist an identification of "America" with our soil and neighbors if it's being insisted that these would remain "America" even were our neighbors all to become hearty Nazis or converts to Islam.
Posted by Lydia | February 9, 2008 11:26 AM
I would resist a separation either way.
Exactly. Me too.
Posted by Zippy | February 9, 2008 12:08 PM
What sort of country were they picturing?
I think they are conducting some of Zippy's dualist operations, or just using another formulation for the statement that what is really valuable in America is her ideals. Several made comparable statements in the context of dismissing my point about how virtually all out patriotic songs very clearly emphasize the natural beauty of America.
One commenter, IIRC, used Canada and India as examples of countries with less, or maybe just less admirable ideological content, which were presented as on that account inferior countries.
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 9, 2008 6:13 PM
I do think that if a country was founded on less admirable ideas than ours and has failed to develop them along the way, it is on that account and in that respect (which is not a respect to sneeze at) less great. A country with no tradition of freedom of religion, for example, is missing something highly important.
Posted by Lydia | February 9, 2008 6:57 PM
A country with no tradition of freedom of religion, for example, is missing something highly important.
Like what?
Posted by George R. | February 9, 2008 7:27 PM
You can ask? Freedom of religion. And a tradition thereof. You are, however, free to move to Saudi Arabia, China, or Eritrea, if you prefer.
Posted by Lydia | February 9, 2008 8:06 PM
Why does it seem that every time I ask a question somebody suggests that I move to another country?
Posted by George R. | February 9, 2008 8:46 PM
And why should I move to Saudi Arabia when freedom of religion is going to bring Saudi Arabia here?
But that is not my primary objection against freedom of religion.
I will expand upon this later.
Stay tuned.
Posted by George R. | February 9, 2008 8:58 PM
I have to admit, George R., that some of your comments give a particular style of conservatism a bit of a bad name. Whether it's defending arranged dynastic marriages or deploring freedom of religion, a particular type of conservative seems to revel in defending the indefensible and opposing the obviously laudable in the name of tradition. If being on the other side of that divide makes me a propositionalist, a neo-, or some other sort of conservative, then I guess you'll have to write me down as one of those.
Posted by Lydia | February 9, 2008 9:21 PM
I'm not sanguine about 'freedom of religion' either way. A great deal of mischief has been done in the name of it; but on the other hand, a great deal of mischief has also been done, by Christians of all sorts (forget about Islam), in the name of religion. I'm interested in avoiding both Scylla and Charybdis.
I have to say that I'm not terrifically sympathetic to "if you don't like it, move" as an argument here. If the discussion is about how we ought to think about and do things, "if you don't like it then move" is not all that different from "shut up." (Mind you, "shut up" is sometimes a perfectly reasonable response, but I'm not sure that is the case here).
Posted by Zippy | February 10, 2008 8:01 AM
My intent was to get us to think about what an absence of freedom of religion truly means. (Eritrea, I gather, is not a Muslim example of no freedom of religion. Neither is China.) Frankly, I find it absolutely outrageous to hear, "Oh, like what would we be missing here in the U.S. if we didn't have a tradition of freedom of religion?" That sort of disdain for the freedoms we enjoy bespeaks to me a lack of gratitude, which is just not something I can excuse simply because it comes from the ostensibly "conservative, traditionalist" side. I wonder if people truly mean such things. "You are welcome to go to Eritrea" is a way, on my part, of saying, "Let's not just speak in generalities about the evils of individualism or secularism or whatever in modern America; let's think about what our forefathers have secured to us in this incarnate United States, which we still have, something without which many now living in this world suffer horribly."
Posted by Lydia | February 10, 2008 8:25 AM
In other words, I find it astounding that this comment of mine should be considered in any way controversial from the conservative side:
I have implied that I'm not at all sure we know what we're talking about if we try to imagine a country that is not America, has an entirely different history, etc., but has "all the same ideas as America." For one thing, depending on the details of that history, such a country might well mean something quite different by the same _phrases_ as is meant in America, so it might not actually embody the same ideas. And we're in danger of fooling ourselves about that by talking blithely about "a different country founded on the same ideas." I seem to recall that Communist Russia ostensibly had freedom of religion in its constitution! But in point of fact, it was a good example of a country that "had no tradition of freedom of religion."
So I'm distancing myself there from what I would regard as an extreme and even rather naive version of what might be called "propositionalism."
But OTOH I was also trying to say that there is something true in the rather different claim that a country with less admirable ideas than ours is in those respects inferior. Acknowledging that is part of what I mean by "patriotism" and lends warmth and heartiness to my singing of purple mountains majesty above the fruited plains. I believe all that stuff about "Why are you grateful to be an American?" "I'm thankful that here in America we can worship God freely," and so forth. I'm glad that I don't have to secretly run a Chinese house church. I'm glad that my extreme low-Protestant friends who "do home church" with just their own family--though I disagree with them--or who preach without a license from the state, are not fined and jailed for such preaching and for refusal to "attend divine service" as was the Baptist John Bunyan even at the end of the 17th century--for its time a relatively mild attack on religious freedom, but still outrageous. That sort of gratitude seems to me right, proper, and just.
We conservatives disdain all of that at our peril.
And it is, by the way, woven into the warp and woof of American identity. So if it's the incarnate reality of America we are concerned with, then may I suggest that (to say nothing else) we are being as "propositionalist" as anyone if we dream of an America with an Established Church.
Posted by Lydia | February 10, 2008 8:46 AM
...is a way, on my part, of saying, "Let's not just speak in generalities about the evils of individualism or secularism or whatever in modern America; let's think about what our forefathers have secured to us in this incarnate United States, which we still have, something without which many now living in this world suffer horribly."
I knew if I needled you I could get you to say what you meant more clearly :-). (In truth though the "if you don't like it you can leave" trope is something of a pet peeve of mine).
I probably do find "freedom of religion" more of a problemmatic than you seem to: that is, it isn't the kind of thing I would sign on to as an unmitigated good without going into much greater detail about what I was and wasn't signing on to. And it is certainly 'entangled' with the identity of America, though that ontic 'entanglement' is probably distinct from the question of whether or not it is good. Tequila and its abuse may well be ontically 'entangled' with my (fictional) alcoholic uncle, as may be his (say) lifelong devotion to serving the poor or whatever. In general value judgments and ontic entanglement are separate issues.
Posted by Zippy | February 10, 2008 1:14 PM
Fair enough, Lydia.
I will revise my view to say that while it is valid to judge countries according to how nearly they approximate justice and ordered liberty, it is presumptuous and uncharitable to judge the patriotism which has these countries as its object. I do not think it right to say to Solzhenitsyn, say, that his love of his country is a lesser love because Russia lacks republican liberty. This, it seems to me, would be analogous to saying that man's love for his troubled and unsightly wife is a lesser love than another man's for a virtuous and beautiful wife.
Love is too mysterious and profound a thing to admit of easy judgments of this character.
In the extreme cases you have presented -- America under Sharia, for instance -- I think there is still something to be said for the patriots of a subjugated nation, men who love what their countries truly is, not what it has become under the despotism of alien systems. Some of the greatest of patriotisms have flourished in broken, impoverished and occupied nations. The wild patriotism of the Irish comes immediately to mind.
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 10, 2008 1:16 PM
I've no doubt, Zippy, that I'd qualify "religious freedom" less than you before endorsing it. Most of the things I can think of that shouldn't be included are things that I've made it pretty clear I think should be outlawed whether done under the auspices of religion or not--pornography, human sacrifice, advocacy of terrorism, etc. The "extreme" and secularly prohibitable nature of those qualifications are part of the reason I don't stop and qualify it explicitly when endorsing it. Another reason is that I've made it clear elsewhere that I endorse Paul's jihad sedition law and also "discrimination" in issuing immigration permits on the basis of religion, especially where that is relevant for security reasons (which is amply evident in the case of Islam).
My point about entanglement was simply a tu quoque concerning the whole notion of "propositionalism." Ostensibly we are supposed to be looking into what America is and loving it as it is, not trying to make it over in some idealistic fashion of our own. Yet religious liberty is indeed entangled with American identity, and it would be a very odd thing for someone who considered that a blot on the American landscape and yearned for an Established Church to condemn "propositionalism" as a failure to embrace the incarnate reality of America. It would make a good deal more sense for such a person to say, "The liberals have their ideals for America and their ideas of what things need to be changed and rooted out to make America what it should be, the neocons have theirs, and I have mine. We will have to fight it out as to whose ideals prevail."
Paul, I find what you say about patriotism a bit of a puzzle to know how best to respond to. N-no, I say hesitantly, I wouldn't judge someone to have bad character per se if he had patriotic feelings for a bad country. Nor would I assume that his patriotism was less strong than mine because his country was bad. (Indeed, my suspicion that his patriotism was of the white-hot variety, very strong indeed, would be part of my worry about him.) But if that were my only piece of information about him, I would likely be hesitant about becoming close friends with him. I would suspect, with good reason, that he and I would have much to disagree about. The "per se" above is a pretty tenuous thing. If you tell me that someone is passionately patriotic towards, say, Iran, and that's all you tell me about him, I'm going to have plenty of reason to think that he's got some very messed up ideas. That's just a rational judgement of the evidence at hand. In fact, in the case of Iran, I would have reason to worry about some even worse things about him.
In fact, this whole business of patriots for bad countries seems to me to be rather an exercise in abstraction itself! Think about it: Consider all we actually know about Iran (just to stick with that example). Are we supposed to pretend we don't know all those things when we hear that someone is a passionate Iranian patriot? What Iran is really like is part of the _incarnate reality_ of things in the world. If you tell me that someone loves Iran but hates the Ayatollah, President Johnny (to give him Lawrence Auster's name), is not anti-American or anti-Israel, and thinks the nuclear program in his own country is a very scary and dangerous thing, I'm going to tell you that's a pretty unusual Iranian patriot! I'm not saying it's impossible, but I'm certainly not going to expect it right off.
I will go even farther: I think that people who live in bad countries have more reason to leave, and to leave even with relief and joy, to plan never to return, than people who live in the United States. I have heard it said that our immigration policy encourages people to be "unfilial" towards their own countries. I have many criticisms of our immigration policy, but that certainly isn't one of them! Not by a long shot. I fully understand people who live under repressive regimes, in horrific physical conditions, without freedom to worship God, and the like, who want to come to America. I admire their good taste, if I can put it that way. I don't think of them as "poor patriots" because they yearn towards America and away from the places where they had the ill fortune to be born. If they do come to the U.S., will they feel like exiles, at least for a time? Will the new country be difficult to get used to? Will they carry part of their original culture with them all their lives? Very probably, yes, to all those things, but that needn't mean that they will wait with enthusiasm for a chance to return! It might in fact be foolish and unreasonable for them to do so. And this has to do with the type of country they came from and come to.
Our idea of patriotism should not require us to pretend that all countries are created equal, nor that people are required to have the same feelings towards any country that is their own.
As for our love of an America that had embraced full-scale sharia or communism, well...we've been over that before. At the risk of being called unpatriotic, I will say this: My love of my country in that case would be muted and less strong than it can be today, when my country is so much better than that, and what remained would be in no small measure a love of what the country was _meant to be_ and _used to be_. A love of something more ideal and less real than what I love today. Just, in fact, the opposite of blood and soil patriotism.
Posted by Lydia | February 10, 2008 2:35 PM
In fact, here's a radical corollary of that last paragraph: People who love their country but hate the regime are, in proportion as their patriotism is "wild" (your word, Paul) and truly passionate, the more likely to engage in or sympathize with violence in the cause of aiding the country they love by overthrowing the regime that they believe is defiling it. Nor am I saying that this is necessarily a bad thing. Whether it is a bad thing or not depends in large part on the nature of the regime. A German patriot who spied for the allies against the Nazis in an attempt to cleanse his beloved country of that stain would, in my view, be a hero. An IRA member is not.
But it's worth thinking about the fact that this sort of radical patriotism is, so far from being a love of the soil of one's country regardless of its politics, a passionate commitment to one sort of rule on that soil rather than another, a commitment so passionate that one is willing to be regarded by many as a the opposite of a patriot--a traitor, a spy, or a terrorist--in living out one's patriotism.
Posted by Lydia | February 10, 2008 3:21 PM
Our idea of patriotism should not require us to pretend that all countries are created equal, nor that people are required to have the same feelings towards any country that is their own.
That is true of filial love in general, one suspects. The fourth commandment isn't "love thy father and mother" or "everyone should be identically disposed to his father and mother independent of what kinds of persons they are," but rather "honor thy father and mother".
Posted by Zippy | February 10, 2008 3:33 PM
I think we're pretty much on the same page here, Lydia. I agree with this:
Our idea of patriotism should not require us to pretend that all countries are created equal, nor that people are required to have the same feelings towards any country that is their own.
And I think I'm on-board with this:
My love of my country in that case [Sharia in America] would be muted and less strong than it can be today, when my country is so much better than that, and what remained would be in no small measure a love of what the country was _meant to be_ and _used to be_. A love of something more ideal and less real than what I love today.
But I must admit some frustration with the ready recourse to rather extreme examples. The example I have used throughout is Solzhenitsyn; and I would be interested in your judgment of the great man's patriotism, considering your low opinion of his country (if I recall your debates with Jeff over Russia correctly).
Is Solzhenitsyn an inferior patriot because the object of his love is "in collapse," to use the title of one of his books on his homeland? because it is ruled by a very popular autocrat? because its traditions include very little liberty, religious, civil or otherwise?
This seems a good test case to me. Should Solzhenitsyn (in retrospect) simply have remained in Vermont, in light of the decay he would bear witness to his his homeland?
As it happens, Lydia, I have a friend who is a Iranian Jew. His family fled at some point, probably when the ayatollahs took over. I haven't really talked with him about patriotism per se, but there can be no doubt that he retains a delightful pride in his Persian ancestry. (He was full of amusing grumbling a year or so ago, when that popular movie about Thermopylae was out.) He detests the ayatollahs, and regards them as alien usurpers. But I think he would still regard himself as an Iranian patriot.
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 10, 2008 3:33 PM
But it's worth thinking about the fact that this sort of radical patriotism is, so far from being a love of the soil of one's country regardless of its politics, a passionate commitment to one sort of rule on that soil rather than another, a commitment so passionate that one is willing to be regarded by many as a the opposite of a patriot--a traitor, a spy, or a terrorist--in living out one's patriotism.
Again, fair enough. I have never sought to throw ideas out completely. My whole point about self-government, and the American tradition thereof, specifically references a "commitment to one sort of rule on that soil" -- but it is a sort of rule which, though hardly alien to theory, has thrived best when it is as much (or more) a way or life, an organic thing of habit and tradition, than a primarily theoretical matter.
I mentioned the art of rhetoric in the OP. I want to underline it again. Rhetoric appeals to the whole man, to his reasoning nature and to his passionate nature; it appeals to creatures who both think and feel. So does patriotism.
So I'm trying to steer a moderate course here, between a patriotism of sheer abstraction, on the one hand, which I regard as the more pressing threat, because of the machinations of the propositionaists; and, on the other, a patriotism of mere passion.
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 10, 2008 3:45 PM
About your Iranian friend, Paul, part of the situation there is that you have plenty of information, esp. on his opinions about the present Iranian regime. My point was just about what I would be likely, reasonably, to think if *all I knew* about someone was that he was an Iranian and a committed Iranian patriot. Look--people who passionately love their countries yet regard the whole kit and kaboodle of the present government of their countries as fundamentally wrong, would love to see it radically changed in favor of something far other which they think of as the "true" way their country "really is," aren't exactly thick on the ground!
As for my using "extreme examples," well, countries like Iran exist. Always have, always will. I'd venture in fact to say that nasty countries have far outnumbered good and great countries in the history of mankind. If we are going to make generalizations about the importance and inherent nature of love of country, we need not to overstate. If our generalizations don't cover the case of really bad countries, they are going to have to be qualified to admit that fact, and if they are not so qualified, we shouldn't be surprised if people react negatively to our statements about patriotism.
Re. Solzhenitsyn, I find your one question difficult to get a handle on: "Is Solzhenitsyn an inferior patriot because..."
What is an inferior patriot? Is it one whose patriotism is less sincere than another's? Of course Solzhenitsyn needn't be an inferior patriot in that sense for those reasons. Is it one who is less truly noble, admirable, and self-sacrificing than another in what he is willing to do and to suffer for his country? Of course none of the facts you cite about Russia need make Solzhenitsyn's patriotism inferior in that sense to an American's, and it is doubtless far superior to most Americans' patriotism in that sense. Is it one whose patriotism has a less worthy object than another's? Well, I suppose yes, in that sense Solzhenitsyn's patriotism is in my opinion less well-founded than that of an American. Is an inferior patriot one whose patriotism is itself perverted by the nature of that which he admires, who admires evil and therefore promotes evil? In Solzhenitsyn's case, his own steadfast opposition to the communist regime, his exposure of it, and his great suffering at its hands has to a great extent meant that his patriotism cannot be criticized in this way. If I were to learn (I do not know enough about this to have any opinion) that Solzhenitsyn, in his love of Russia, is an apologist for Vladimir Putin, then there might be some legitimate concerns--though possibly stated in less strong terms than "evil"--along these lines. In fact (I want to be careful in how I say this), I do worry that slavophilia can cause people to have far less respect and concern for certain very important values, like religious freedom for example (!), than they should have. If love of Russia means that your ideas are seriously confused on a very important issue, then to that extent and in that area Russian patriotism has been harmful to you. That's the best answer I can give to that question.
Should he have stayed in the U.S.? I'm certainly not going to say that. Every man has his own call, his own vocation, which calls him to make some things a priority over others. Had he stayed in the U.S. forever and made it his adopted country, I would not have even thought of blaming him, that's for sure! But it doesn't follow that he _should_ have. Here, I have a parallel question for you: Consider people who leave their native land to go and serve, even suffer and die, as missionaries to another country. Should they have stayed home? I can no more answer your question about Solzhenitsyn in those terms than you can answer my question about foreign missionaries in those terms. I wouldn't in the same place probably do _either_ thing. I'd stay in America either way. But for all I know, God called them. And him, too.
Posted by Lydia | February 10, 2008 4:18 PM
I hasten to add that my Iranian Jewish friend is an American -- born here I believe. I don't want to cause confusion there.
Lydia, I sympathize with your reluctance to answer my question about Solzhenitsyn. It just goes to demonstrate my point that patriotism, like other loves, is an enigmatic thing, resistant to easy judgment. Nor can it be reduced to a formula, as the propositionalists would have it.
For myself, I admire Solzhenitsyn's decision to return home. Russia needs men like him, desperately (America does too, for that matter).
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 10, 2008 6:36 PM
My point there is simply that I'm not in a position to know, and that my assumption would be that Solzhenitsyn knew what he was doing and made the right choice. But I would assume the same thing if he had stayed here. I can certainly see arguments for his staying in America, but they are by no means strong enough for me to say that he "should have" stayed here. In a word, it's none of my business but rather is a classic case of one of those major life choices where the person involved has the information, I don't, no absolute moral precept is being violated either way, so it's his call.
If your Iranian friend is an American, then he should be an American patriot. It's a very interesting question whether it's either possible or a good idea to be a truly committed patriot to two different countries at the same time. I would expect that anti-propositionalists would be highly resistant to the notion of dual citizenship, for example, though I could just be wrong in that prediction.
Posted by Lydia | February 10, 2008 7:33 PM
It's a very interesting question whether it's either possible or a good idea to be a truly committed patriot to two different countries at the same time.
Right. That's why I wanted to clarify.
I'm opposed to dual citizenship, myself. Our very citizenship oath logically forbids it: "I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen ..." Etc.
Posted by Paul J Cella | February 10, 2008 8:34 PM
I was thinking of the WWWTW gang, and this particular post (along with the comments, especially Zippy's and Paul's concern with "dualisms") when I came across this passage last night from The Brothers K:
"Remember, young man, unceasingly," Father Paissy began directly, without any preamble, "that the science of this world, having united itself into a great force, has, especially in the past century, examined everything heavenly that has been bequeathed to us in sacred books, and, after hard analysis, the learned ones of this world have absolutely nothing left of what was once holy. But they have examined parts and missed the whole, and their blindness is even worthy of wonder. Meanwhile the whole stands before their eyes as immovably as ever, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."
Given that the OP started out with Solzhenitsyn, it seemed particularly appropriate to throw out some Dostoevsky!
Posted by Jeff Singer | February 11, 2008 8:10 AM
Whether it's defending arranged dynastic marriages or deploring freedom of religion, a particular type of conservative seems to revel in defending the indefensible and opposing the obviously laudable in the name of tradition.
Lydia,
I guess you haven't seen my posts defending war, slavery, and torture.
I realize that freedom of religion is part of the fabric of this country. I also admit that it is one of the main reasons why America has been able to prosper and grow in relative peace for the last two centuries. And I would be an ingrate indeed if I was not grateful to have been born and raised in the USA and not in some theocratic hell hole.
Nevertheless, I have to stand against it. Why? Because it is an insidious policy whose evil effects have only gradually become evident. Look at your fellow Americans, Lydia. Their bodies have been preserved, but it seems their souls have been annihilated. Logically and metaphysically speaking, freedom of religion is a train wreck. It refuses to be conformed to any possible reality, except perhaps an atheistic one. It demotes the most important questions to the private sphere where they will become matters of private opinion. It tends to reduce God to a matter of taste.
True, freedom of religion has preserved us from religious wars. But I say that man exists not avoid war but to fight for truth and to defend the good and the innocent.
Posted by George R. | February 11, 2008 10:14 AM
"Freedom of religion" is associated with the Constitution and the Federal Government--the problem is that we have grown accustomed to thinking that this is the American way because of the nationalist/consolidationist transformation of the 19th century, and the resulting change in identity and political culture. The Constitution does not prohibit the establishment of churches by the states.
Posted by T. Chan | February 11, 2008 10:54 AM
George R., I could not disagree more strongly. But I have a feeling that perhaps you have a false dichotomy according to which we must either have an established church (I assume your preference would be for the Catholic Church, though this is just a guess) or else we must be ruled by the ACLU (and perhaps CAIR as well), banish creches from the public square, ban references to God in public schools, and pretend in our immigration policies that there is no Muslim threat.
Freedom of religion is not an insidious policy. It is a precious jewel.
By the way (and perhaps to open a can of worms) one of the most strongly "privatized" policy ideas I have heard lately is the idea that we can have freedom of religion while banning witnessing, aka "proselytizing"--for Protestant evangelicalism, for example. If telling people "You can believe what you like in your own mind and discuss what you like within the walls of your own house or church, but you can't advertise your most cherished beliefs in conversation with your co-workers" isn't privatizing religion, I don't know what is.
T. Chan, legally and in terms of original meaning, you are quite right, and there were state established churches at the time of the founding. But uprooting the entire doctrine of incorporation from our constitutional jurisprudence would be not only a massive undertaking but also probably not an entirely prudent one. In any event, now many states have parallel constitutional statements to the establishment clause in their state constitutions. And the notion of freedom of religion and its corollary--no formal established church--is now and has been for a very long time firmly rooted in our states as well as at the federal level. Speaking for myself, I am glad to see the Established Church of, say, Massachusetts (Puritan) gone and would not want it reinstated.
Posted by Lydia | February 11, 2008 11:59 AM
I'm pretty leery of "established churches" since they tend to make religion a department of the State subject to its will, bent to its worldly purposes. They also tend to make the coercive State an arm of a certain kind of misdirected religious conviction which attempts to substitute material capability for spiritual, not merely protecting religion materially but forcing "conversion" by the sword. Yet the State should acknowledge the independent authority of the Church, and conform itself to natural and divine law without abdicating its own place, responsibility, and concomitant authority. Father and priest, king and bishop, are different but necessarily interconnected: neither one can be substituted for the other.
In general I think the term "freedom of religion" is multivocal enough that it has become a kind of slogan, where the adherent is in effect saying "I am against coercion of conscience through politics". Without doubt that is a good thing to be against, though that is probably a lengthier discussion than I can get into at the moment. But suffice to say that it isn't a subject matter which lends itself to short summary sentences in the context of modernity/postmodernity, which is only capable of understanding "freedom of religion" as the abolishment of religion by the State and its lack as the establishment of religion as a department of the State.
Posted by Zippy | February 11, 2008 12:38 PM
Yet the State should acknowledge the independent authority of the Church, and conform itself to natural and divine law without abdicating its own place, responsibility, and concomitant authority.
So what you're saying here is that the state should be subjuct to the Church in those things which pertain to natural and divine law. This, however, would require a special relationship and an intimate connection between the state and one religion.
Posted by George R. | February 11, 2008 1:46 PM
This, however, would require a special relationship and an intimate connection between the state and one religion.
And truth more generally. That does not however imply juridical authority of Church over State or vice versa (though again some 'entanglement' is doubtless unavoidable).
Posted by Zippy | February 11, 2008 4:44 PM
I do not know what this is worth to anyone, but it's my opinion that there are grey areas where religious liberty is in no way harmed but where a kind of non-negligible "statement" can be made. Example: I would support a move to have invocations at the opening of state Congresses and also the national Congress be only by Christians. This does not compromise anybody's religious freedom to do anything. It does not amount to establishing a particular church, once we concede that having such invocations in the first place doesn't amount to that (which it obviously doesn't). I would also support (actually, quite strongly support) having no Muslim chaplains in the military or in prisons. This is easily defensible on security grounds, and, again, it doesn't stop anyone from practicing and even loudly promoting his religion. I would support having our only national holidays (when the mail stops, etc.) with any religious aspect be Christian holidays.
Now, these moves are in one sense symbolic, with the possible exception of the limitation on chaplains. But I'm not at all convinced that symbolic means "unimportant." What it does mean is that nobody is being religiously persecuted nor is a national or state Established Church being founded, nor is the government being juridically ruled by a church or religion, etc.
I do, by the way, consider all manner of moral precepts--such as the wrongness of abortion, the male-female nature of marriage, and the like--to be fully available to non-believers and to be in no sense an "imposition of religion." The liberals could not be more wrong on that stuff, and the word "religion" is used in those contexts merely to shut down discussion.
Posted by Lydia | February 11, 2008 5:42 PM
T. Chan, legally and in terms of original meaning, you are quite right, and there were state established churches at the time of the founding. But uprooting the entire doctrine of incorporation from our constitutional jurisprudence would be not only a massive undertaking but also probably not an entirely prudent one. In any event, now many states have parallel constitutional statements to the establishment clause in their state constitutions. And the notion of freedom of religion and its corollary--no formal established church--is now and has been for a very long time firmly rooted in our states as well as at the federal level. Speaking for myself, I am glad to see the Established Church of, say, Massachusetts (Puritan) gone and would not want it reinstated.
"Uprooting" gradually is possible, if there is a desire among the people, and that is the problem.
Posted by T. Chan | February 11, 2008 5:45 PM
I do, by the way, consider all manner of moral precepts--such as the wrongness of abortion, the male-female nature of marriage, and the like--to be fully available to non-believers and to be in no sense an "imposition of religion." The liberals could not be more wrong on that stuff, and the word "religion" is used in those contexts merely to shut down discussion.
Amen to that.
Posted by Zippy | February 11, 2008 11:59 PM
This, however, would require a special relationship and an intimate connection between the state and one religion.
Not necessarily. Perhaps a special relationship between the state and one religious tradition. I called a long time ago (maybe on the old Enchiridion site) for a constitutional amendment declaring this a Christian nation, while at the same time explicitly condemning an established church. I based this on the fact that Protestantism and Catholicism had long been in concord (prior to, approximately, 1930) on those matters of natural and divine law. When Lydia mentions those "moral precepts--such as the wrongness of abortion, the male-female nature of marriage, and the like" (and she could have mentioned many others), she demonstrates the point.
Posted by William Luse | February 12, 2008 2:35 AM