America Should Love Itself Again

Happy Birthday to a very great nation

We started to hear the extraordinary booming noise of fighter planes overhead soon after breakfast. But nothing was visible. It was like hearing the thunder without seeing the lightning. We walked around a little, but the heat was unbearable, and nothing could be seen. All the while, the sky rolled with the deep echoes of the air force rehearsing the Independence Day fly-past. I went out to cool down the car so we could drive to a better vantage spot: the Netherlands Carillon or Arlington Cemetery. As we were getting into the car, a screeching noise came out of the sky and there it was, right above us, making a long, swift arc, the fire from its rear engine as bright in the sky as a strange new star. A fighter plane had dipped down above us and swooped off. It was like seeing a dinosaur.

So off we went on a chase to see these alien things, streaking and swirling across the sky above D.C. As we drove along the interstate to the Carillon, which stands next to the Marines Memorial, which takes the form of a large statue of Iwo Jima, they were right above us. Then one of them did a loop-the-loop. It was too late to park, so we changed course and headed to the Cemetery. But we couldn’t face the walk to the top in the heat (with children in tow).

As we drove out, another jet was holding itself vertical over the river before it dipped down and swung away. We followed it across the Memorial Bridge, full of the thrill of the display, and saw it whoosh over the Lincoln Memorial. There were people everywhere. Some of them were set-up under umbrellas on the bridge. Some sat up on the memorial, safe in the shade. Never have we enjoyed the D.C. traffic so much. Just as we crawled round the Lincoln Memorial Circle, the whole fly-past flew past: stealth bombers, fighter planes, and the terribly exciting Thunderbirds, who keep tight formations and make smoke patterns in the sky.

D.C. was jubilant. Sometimes, the first thing we knew about approaching planes was the whoops and skirls of people on the street. Roads were closed with army trucks parked across them, and soldiers stood baking in the sky, scratching their chin and yawning, waving kindly to children. They stopped and gaped too. Back in Arlington, we saw the Thunderbirds howling down Wilson Boulevard, pulling up steeply and making a circle back, before they flew right over us. The whole thing was truly extraordinary.

This is America at its best: confident, performative, high-tech, talented, patriotic, unafraid of its own character. Everywhere we went, we saw Americans full of the basic pride and happy energy that makes this country great. For the last few days, the hotel lobbies and streets have been full of that familiar American archetype: the traveller. They wear baseball caps inside, prefer sneakers and traveling slacks, and usually sport a polo shirt. When the traffic is stuck, they get out of the car, open the boot, stride off to see what can be seen. This is a land of magnificence and they are here to see it and enjoy it.

This is not the way everyone feels. When my wife walked down to see the planes, she ran into a journalist who asked her if she wasn’t upset by all this rampant militarism. This is not an uncommon attitude. Not in the particulars, but simply in the dislike of what is happening. So many people are just unable to enjoy the anniversary. The celebration feels decidedly muted. Where is all the jubilation? Where are the people dressed up as Ben Franklin? Where are the parades?

Perhaps it seems like this because I live in D.C. To me, this attitude is inexplicable. The world’s most successful revolution has worked and still works! We have democracy, liberty, and prosperity! It’s time to get out the flags! Let there be cakes and ale! (Or, indeed, hot dogs and beer.)

So often I hear and read laments about this Independence Day. Rather than celebrating that America has made it to a quarter millennium, so many Americans are worried that this is (almost) the low point for the whole history of the Republic. I find this attitude baffling. However bad things are right now (and yes, I find many aspects of American politics today truly lamentable; so much is so awful), they are simply not as bad as what has happened here in the past. Slavery. The failures of Reconstruction. The Trail of Tears. Japanese Internment. Lord knows, this country isn’t perfect. But if we cannot celebrate the progress we have made, we will make it all the more difficult to make any more. Justice and improvement are motivated by feelings of inadequacy, but the long work of betterment is done by people who believe in their country.

Some believe that America might not be America for much longer. They think the Constitution is under threat. Perhaps. But elections have been held. The court has not always decided in favour of the executive. The system may not be deciding everything as it ought to, but it is functioning much as it has always done.

All the Europeans who have fallen in love with America as they visited for the World Cup have been surprised to see beyond the headlines. The news is all about politics, injustice, incompetence, cruelty. No-one can deny the wickedness of the world. No-one can deny the tremendous failures: citizens have been shot by their government, wars have been started, a dismal rhetoric has become normal. But as the football fans drive around America, they see beyond the failures. They see that this country is more than its politics. Much more. They see the tremendous character of the nation. This is a country of hard work, high standards, and huge ambition. It is also a country that has to choose its own future. The choice might not be between two sides of a political argument, but between two cultures—one that believes in itself and its future, and one that increasingly struggles to see beyond the dismay.

As I look back to the UK—where we have political and economic failure too (and worse, God knows), but where we don’t have the same economic dynamism that might still save America yet—it makes me want to shake some Americans by the shoulders, and say, wake up! look around! this is God’s own country! and if you lose sight of that, you’ll only add to the problem!

However bad the problems are—and they are bad—the same spirit that animated the founding is still alive today. Get out your flags and cook some hot dogs. This country is still the world’s last best hope. If there is work to be done to rebuild America, to repair the damage and to renew the ideals of the Declaration and the Constitution in the coming years, that work will be done best in the spirit of belief in this vast country. Renewal starts with America loving itself again.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flag_of_the_United_States#/media/File:Flag_of_the_United_States_(DDD-F-416E_specifications).svg