One year ago many of us Americans suddenly awoke with an enlightened patriotic fervor, a sense of duty and dedication that would surpass our fear and a feeling of fraternal love for our fellow countrymen.
We bought flags made in China, and we waved them. We reaffirmed the important etiquette of how to place them on our cars and in our homes, and in this way we paid homage to the uncountable casualties of our many wars for liberty and justice for all.
Our blood boiled at the sight of airplanes crashing into buildings, of familiar faces with tears of grief, and of gatherings of Palestinians cheering on CNN. We saw our president in a new light, a light that transformed his strange Texas accent into a voice of reason and resolve. It was a voice of paternal security, one that spoke valiantly of revenge in such a comforting way that his dubious election the previous November was erased from history. He became "our leader," a phrase that can also be translated into German.
We realized that the forces of evil were everywhere, that they could penetrate our benign homeland and that they have only grown stronger since the end of the Cold War. We understood then that we have to stand up and protect ourselves, because others' jealousy, irrational hate, and religious fanaticism nullified all of our earnest efforts to make friends.
We were jolted back into the reality that we were unique, that we were better, smarter, kinder, and more rational than the rest. The rest either wanted to be us, or they were so bitter from the failure of that dream that they wanted to blow us up.
Most importantly, we remembered that "we" and "us" meant that we were Americans, and "they" and "them" were different.
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In his book, Psychoanalysis of Contemporary Society, Erich Fromm writes, "Nationalism is our form of incest, it is our idolatry, it is our insanity. Its cult is patriotism." Patriotism, he explains, puts one's county above humanity, and above the principles of truth and justice. "My country, right or wrong," is case in point.
Fromm's criticism is that our flamboyant displays of patriotism do not reflect a true love for our country, but rather a deep insecurity and lack of individuality that creates in us a need to identify with a greater entity. In a world where we are frightened by the unknown, especially in our own selves, we tend to run to a protector figure, a role originally played by our mothers. As it is impossible (legally and physiologically) to return to the womb of our mothers, we instead turn to the nation, a protector entity, an abstract notion that defines the terms "us" and "them."
By creating an "us", we damage both our individuality and our power of reason that accompanies it. Our opinions conform to those of the group, and the group follows the leader. The leader's friends and enemies become ours, as do his whimsical and self-interested perceptions. In short, we abdicate our right to think for ourselves.
Here, we consider ourselves Americans. It was never an easy term to define, but defining it didn't matter in the absence of exaggerated nationalism. Now we feel a need to define it, and the question becomes "how?"
This is quickly answered for us: We wave the flag, we wear the colors, we shout the slogans and denounce the enemies. Our American-ness becomes the highest virtue, and we compete with each other to determine who is the most virtuous and true.
Likewise, we distrust those who don't involve themselves in the competition. It is well known that we have enemies on the inside. Could it be that Mr. I-got-no-flag-in-my-yard is up to something? Ultimately, we may become paranoid, for not only are we surrounded by questionable patriots, but we are also constantly being watched, not by the government, rather by our neighbors.
One year ago our lives changed. An unspeakable atrocity stripped us of our innocence, and threw us out into a cold cruel world. We responded to our fears and disbelief by coming together, by turning millions of loose grains of sand into a solid block of concrete. We raised the flag, and went to war.
In the end, we may win the war, and the flag may still be there. But the question remains, "who am I?" Will you ever be you?
Mike Wolff
Daily Lobo Columnist
Questions and comments can be sent to Rat¢n Miguelito at mudrat@unm.edu
