Summary: Americans love to dicker and dispute over everything imaginable, including the meaning of Independence Day and the Declaration of Independence. As we come together to celebrate the 236th anniversary of the signing of the historic document, we should also rededicate ourselves to bending the arc of our moral universe toward justice.
By: Paul S. Marchand
We Americans are a disputatious bunch.
We differ on just about anything people are capable of differing on. Whether it’s Dodgers and Angels, Yankees or Red Sox, New York or Los Angeles, kielbasa or chorizo, PC or Mac, we Americans love to debate just about anything and everything.
Independence Day is certainly no different. Since practically before the ink dried on the Declaration of Independence we have been debating the meaning, intention, and promise of our American Union, that “new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal” of which Abraham Lincoln spoke so movingly at Gettysburg.
To some, Independence Day and the Declaration of Independence take on a kind of sacred, quasi-religious aspect. To such people, Independence Day ranks with the descent of Moses from Sinai carrying the Tablets of the Law. At the other extreme are those who hold Independence Day to be a shameful commemoration of a hypocritical past, who, like the late Edward Said, cleave to a narrative of America as a disturber of the peace “to be resisted at every turn.”
As much as true believers at either end of the political spectrum engage in often acrimonious dispute over what Independence Day (and, by extension, the Declaration of Independence itself) should mean, American society also finds itself caught up in an equally heated conversation about who “owns” Independence Day.
Forty-plus years ago, when Richard Nixon was in the White House and I was just becoming politically conscious, the 37th President’s administration, perhaps the most politically manipulative administration until that of George W. Bush, wasted no effort in seeking to appropriate to the exclusive use of Mr. Nixon and his Party all of our national symbols, the flag, Independence Day, the Declaration of Independence, mom and apple pie -- indeed, the whole kit and American caboodle.
Not surprisingly, many on the progressive side felt deeply uncomfortable at the way in which the Nixon White House sought, by wrapping themselves in the flag, to monopolize the very concept of patriotism, turning “patriotism” into a vulgar adjunct of political ideology. And because many thoughtful progressives regarded Nixon’s efforts as vulgar, their reaction was the predictable one of shrinking from a fight over custodianship of our national symbols. Even today, some of my oldest old-line old-school progressive acquaintances refuse to own, possess, or display the national colors, let alone celebrate Independence Day, regarding such things even now as unspeakably tacky.
Fortunately, however, the vast majority of progressives understood what the Nixon administration and its ideological fellow travelers were trying to accomplish. Enough of us refused to allow Richard Nixon and the GOP to monopolize those common national symbols that are the joint patrimony of every American, living, dead, or yet to be born. We refused then and refuse now to allow the American right to define patriotism as the exclusive possession of any particular political ideology or outlook, bomb throwers like Ann Coulter and Glenn Beck notwithstanding.
Yet, if, as John Adams so famously urged, today should be a day of celebration, it should also be a day for reflection. It should be a day when we think carefully and critically about where we have come from, where we are, and where we hope to go.
For at our best, we have been a progressive people. At our best we have dared to look in the mirror and acknowledge ourselves, warts and all, as a people whose work is not complete. As Americans, most of us share the views of 19th century abolitionist Theodore Parker and of Martin Luther King, Jr., that “the arc of our moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
Of course, because we Americans are as impatient as we are disputatious, the length of that arc of our moral universe sometimes frustrates us; it seems too long, and the time we have to accomplish justice, to build what 17th-century Massachusetts Gov. John Winthrop famously called “a city on a hill,” seems so very short by comparison. And so some on the progressive side of our ongoing national debate become disappointed and step away from the work of forming a more perfect union, even as some on the conservative side (perhaps remembering William Buckley’s famous definition of a conservative as someone “standing athwart history, yelling ‘stop!’”) come to a grimly reductionist conclusion that a just society is unattainable, and thus not worth seeking at all.
Yet, over and over again we have refused to heed those counsels of despair which have urged us to turn away from the difficult task of “securing the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity” no matter how we or our posterity may look, live, love, work, or worship. Indeed, we have steadily enlarged our metaphorical American table, inserting new leaves to create places for women, for people of color, for those with disabilities, for queerfolk, for immigrants, and for all those who were not originally considered fit to form part of the body politic.
So, today, let us enjoy the festivities John Adams called us to indulge in, whether it’s burgers, dogs, chicken, or something veggie on the grill, or taking in a fireworks display, or gathering with family, friends, and neighbors to celebrate what we have been, what we are, and what we can become. But let us also reflect upon the great work in which we are all perforce still engaged, of making good on the promises made on our behalf on a steaming summer day in Philadelphia 236 years ago. The arc of our moral universe is still long, and it is still in our trust to keep bending it toward justice.
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Paul S. Marchand is an attorney who lives and works in Cathedral City, California. The views expressed herein are his own, and not necessarily those of any entity, agency, or organization with which he is associated or of which he may be a member. They are not intended to constitute legal advice, and should not be so construed, but if you intend on putting a lot of ketchup on your burger or hot dog this afternoon, avoid wearing a white shirt.
