Citizens, Not Patriots

I am not a patriot.

Yes, I’ll be celebrating July 4^th with family and friends.

And yes, I respect and support those I know in the armed forces.

And yes, I have a deep love of this amazing country: the beautiful land of mountains, rivers, lakes, plains. The vibrant, energizing, multidimensional cities. The troubling, inspiring history. The complex, carefully crafted institutions.

But I am not a patriot.

I winced as a kid at the “love it or leave it” slogan that confronted critics of war in Vietnam and shouted down civil rights advocates.

And I cringe at the suggestion that “making America great again” involves building walls, gathering guns, and shutting out anyone not like me.

"Patriot"'s Greek root, “patris,” points to love of the fatherland, yet patriotism too often moves far beyond love of the place where one was born. By definition, a patriot is “a person who vigorously supports their country and is prepared to defend it against enemies or detractors.”

Historically, patriots have been easily led into violence at real or supposed threats to their nation.

Leo Tolstoy, alarmed at the patriotic fervor of his own fatherland, Russia, wrote: 

The feeling of patriotism . . .is an immoral feeling because, instead of confessing himself a son of God . . . or even a free man guided by his own reason, each man under the influence of patriotism confesses himself the son of his fatherland and the slave of his government, and commits actions contrary to his reason and conscience. 

Tolstoy died before seeing the wreckage in Europe caused by misguided patriots. Hitler prided himself on his patriotic fervor; Mussolini was called “the high priest of patriotism.” Their  followers,  patriots all, went far past reason or conscience in their tragic attempts to uphold national pride and purity.

Here in my own beloved country, patriots led the American Revolution, grabbing guns to assert their rights rather than look for political methods to achieve the same desired goals. Anyone who questions the wisdom of that approach is by definition unpatriotic, yet it’s hard not to notice that dozens of countries found independence from the British Empire through less aggressive means.

Our history lessons celebrate the daring patriots, ignoring completely the voices of Quakers, Mennonites, Moravians and others who cried out for wisdom, patience, prayer and an end to the promotion of war.

I live near Valley Forge, drive through it often. I sometimes pause to look again at the miserable log huts where so many died in the winter of 1777-8. Too often we glorify war and forget the horrible loss of life. We imagine war was inevitable, without sifting back to see what alternatives were missed.

Google “American patriot” images and you’ll see lots of pictures of flags and guns.

The second Amendment is the part of the Constitution of most interest to modern patriots.

But we’ve always had patriots.

In the Revolution, patriots conscripted pacifists, fined and imprisoned them, condemned them as traitors. Scrubbed them from the historical record.

Later, patriots burned Catholic churches and Irish homes in Philadelphia in the nativist riots of the 1840s.

Patriots lynched Italian immigrants in the 1890s, put Japanese, German and Italian Americans in internment camps during World War II.

Today, patriots, many of them grandchildren of immigrants themselves, cheer at the idea of deporting millions of refugees back to the hazards that drove them from their loved but fractured fatherlands.

Einstein lamented “heroism on command, senseless violence and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism.”

Alduous Huxley, writing in the shadow of two world wars, warned: 

One of the great attractions of patriotism—it fulfils our worst wishes. In the person of our nation we are able, vicariously, to bully and cheat. Bully and cheat, what’s more, with a feeling that we are profoundly virtuous. 

I don’t like bullies, whatever their cause, whatever their seeming virtue.

I don’t believe in simple solutions.

And although I sometimes dream of shooting the deer and groundhogs eating my backyard shrubs, I think we’re in danger if our answer to every problem is a gun.

As I said, I’m not a patriot.

Instead, I’m a citizen.

The idea, though not the word, dates back to the Greeks.

In Athens, I spent time in the forums where citizens gathered to talk, share concerns and solutions, create polity for the common good.

The Greek philosophers talked and wrote much about citizens: free men able to both rule and be ruled, willing to sacrifice for the common good, moderate, generous, committed to justice.

Looking back, we can see their justice fell short: women and slaves had no place in their arrangement.

But the idea of citizen has been carried forward and strengthened, not least by the Christian heritage that set aside nationalist identity and invited all, men, women, slave, free, to be citizens of a new kingdom distinctive in its insistence on justice, freedom, and provision for all.

Jesus initiated that kingdom with his first public words: 

The Spirit of the Lord is on Me, because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom to the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. 

Paul, himself a citizen of Rome and visitor throughout the Greek cities where democracy was formed, spoke of a new identity shaped not by country or class and of a new form of citizenship, not in a nation, but in the kingdom announced by Jesus himself.

In Philippians 3:20, he wrote “But our citizenship is in heaven.”

The word he used, translated for us as “citizenship,” is a rich one: politeuma.

A polis was the place where people lived, a Greek city-state held together by commitment to the common good, governed by the ideals of wisdom, courage, moderation and justice. 

Many English words come from that one root: police, politics, polite.

It carried an idea of order, commitment, proper behavior, interwoven benefit. The idea of commonwealth is also carried in that word: a political society that exists for the common good and mutual support of all.

As Paul made clear in letters to citizens and non-citizens throughout the Greek world, followers of Christ were to set aside allegiance to their particular place or polis and live instead as visible examples of the new kingdom or commonwealth to come. 

I’m hungry for that kingdom. That same hunger drove many of those who first traveled to what became the USA.

Committed to freedom of worship for all.

Insistent that all learn to read and think as an avenue to vibrant faith, fruitful work, reasoned involvement in political discourse.

Eager to provide equal opportunity, regardless of ancestry.

Passionate about the Biblical ideals of justice and shalom for all - not just freeborn landowning men.

Those goals have never been perfectly realized.

Our founders fell short, as do we.

As will our children.

But at their best, our founders envisioned a polis that made visible those ideals articulated by Christ and his followers.

Our constitution posits a “we the people” determined 

to establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity.

Those are the aspirations of citizens, not patriots.

And those aspirations will never be met by building walls or deporting refugees.

In many ways, being a patriot is easy: grab a gun, shout some slogans, find an enemy.

Being a citizen is far, far harder.  Understand the issues. Consider conflicting points of view. Balance priorities. Look for consensus. Put the well-being of others above your own rights or interests. Persevere in hope. Pray for wisdom.

The problems that confront us are complex, systemic, deeply embedded. Placing blame, scapegoating others, waving flags and guns will only make them worse.

Our democracy, our country, our world are in desperate need of citizens.

Citizens not just of our own nations, but of the kingdom whose compassionate ideals shaped the Constitution we honor.  

Freedom is Indivisible

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men and women are created equal...”

Reading through the Declaration of Sentiments, signed in Seneca Falls, New York, in 1848, by 68 women and 32 men, I find myself wondering why I never encountered that document in any history class, or heard it mentioned, even once, in connection to its obvious model, the Declaration of Independence.

Or why I never heard, until very recently, of the Justice Bell, funded a century ago by Katharine Wentworth Ruschenberger here in Chester County as a way to call attention to the battle for women's suffrage. She commissioned a duplicate of the Liberty Bell, with an inscription of "Establish Justice", and arranged for a three month tour around Pennsylvania in the summer of 1915..

I find myself wondering how the men of Philadelphia, living in the shadow of Independence Hall, challenged by the sight of that Justice Bell, could vote, by overwhelming majority, against the 1915 Pennsylvania Referendum on Women’s Suffrage.

And I marvel at those who, looking back, find suffragettes amusing, or wish, even now, that women would “know their place”.

Last week I posted an article "what do teenage girls need.” The weeks before I wrote about time spent with women who have encouraged and challenged me, or spurred me on in important ways.

Girl in well - Water Mission International

But in the back of my mind is a knowledge of other women, other girls: girls who will never learn to read. Women who will never enjoy a weekend away with friends. Millions who live on less than a dollar a day, who walk miles in search of water, who spend their days in fear of violence, disease,

starvation. What do those girls need? Who encourages those women to be all they were made to be?

For a century and a half, the men who fought for their own right to vote, the men who enjoyed that right and the attendant rights of employment, property, assembly, self-direction, gave little thought to the women around them who had no opportunity to share in those rights.I object, even now, to their blindness. And to the blindness of any group that will fight or advocate for rights for themselves they refuse to grant to others.

But what of my own blindness?

Nelson Mandela, hero of the South African anti-apartheid movement, wrote in his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom: 

“Freedom is indivisible . . .  To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” 

Freedom is indivisible. As Mandela explained, 

“the oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed. A man who takes away another man’s freedom is a prisoner of hatred, he is locked behind the bars of prejudice and narrow mindedness. I am not truly free if I am taking away someone else’s freedom, just as surely as I am not free when my freedom is taken from me.” 

But carry this a step further, as Martin Luther King did in his letter from Birmingham jail:

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” 

Kofi Annan, former Secretary-General of the United Nations, called violence against women, "perhaps the most shameful human rights violation. And it is perhaps the most pervasive. It knows no boundaries of geography, culture or wealth. As long as it continues, we cannot claim to be making real progress towards equality, development, and peace.” 

According to Amnesty International:

Gender-based violence stems from the failure of governments and societies to recognize the human rights of women. It is rooted in a global culture of discrimination which denies women equal rights with men and which legitimizes the appropriation of women's bodies for individual gratification or political ends. Everyday, all over the world, women face gender-specific persecution including genital mutilation, sexual slavery, forced prostitution, and domestic violence. At least one out of every three women worldwide has been beaten, coerced into sex, or otherwise abused in her lifetime.

Violence against women feeds off discrimination and serves to reinforce it. When women are abused in custody, raped by armed forces as "spoils of war," or terrorized by violence in the home, unequal power relations between men and women are both manifested and enforced.  

What a staggering statistic - according to many observers, a conservative estimate: At least one in three women worldwide has been beaten, coerced into sex, or otherwise abused. 30 percent have experienced physical violence or sexual abuse by a partner. And more than 600 million women live in countries where domestic violence is not considered a crime.

The tragic pattern of violence against women is part of a larger story of dependence and poverty that deprives women of freedom and limits healthy choices:

Of all the primary-school age girls globally, 20 percent are not in school.

One in every six adults still cannot read or write; two thirds of those are women.

End Child Marriage

One in seven girls in the developing world is married before turning 15; in low and middle-income countries, complications from pregnancy and childbirth are the leading cause of death for girls 15 to 19.

Of the 1.5 billion people worldwide who live on less than 1 dollar a day, 70 percent are female.

Women are 80% of all refugees and displaced persons.

Women and children constitute 80% of trafficking victims globally. 98% of those trafficked for sexual purposes are female.

The list could go on: low wages, lack of representation in governing bodies, inequitable property rights and inheritance laws.

So much of what I take for granted is unavailable, even unimaginable, to millions of women around the world.

So what can I do about any of this?

Why even think about it?

Friends tell me I think too much. Which may be true.

But if freedom is indivisible, if it’s true that injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere, if I'm called to love my neighbor as myself, even the neighbor I can’t see, can’t hear – what then?

I know lots of people who choose to sponsor a child through an organization like World Vision  or Compassion. $35 or $38 dollars a month, and one child will receive school fees and supplies, clothes, minimal health care, supplemental food. So sponsor a girl and make a difference. Done! 

But some might say that model is cumbersome and expensive, designed more to massage the conscience of the donor than provide real change where change is needed. According to Sri Lankan Vinoth Ramachandra,  

“It has little to do with real costs on the ground. It’s also a very expensive process to manage, which means a large fraction of the money raised is swallowed up in the bureaucracy of the organization.” 

Some large international ministries are turning attention to education and training for women and girls. World Vison now invites gift donations for girls and women. Tearfund  and Oxfam don’t promote targeted donations, but are actively involved in empowering and educating women and working toward the welfare and rights of women and girls.

Class in India, Compassion Beyond Borders

I’m intrigued by the model of Compassion Beyond Borders, a small organization with very low overhead. The board raises its own administrative costs  and works with grass-roots organizations to educate girls in regions where few girls go to school, including parts of Guatemala, Mexico, Uganda, Kenya, and India.

So, yes, there are ways to directly impact and help educate and encourage women and girls.

But beyond that: is it possible to advocate for change in places where change is needed?

There are organizations at work in human trafficking: International Justice Mission works around the world to find and rescue women held against their will, and to strengthen legal supports for women’s rights.

But on a larger level?

Maybe a start is to look around.

To give thanks for the freedoms I enjoy, to give thanks for the women and men who believed women were created equal and were willing to advocate for women’s rights.

And to become more informed about those who are still living under the weight of oppressive inequality, and more informed about avenues to speak on their behalf.

The prophet Isaiah challenged God's people:

Learn to do right; seek justice.
    Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
    plead the case of the widow.
                (Isaiah 1:17)

I don’t know how to do any of that, but as Isaiah said, I can “learn to do right.” I welcome your insights, assistance, and friendship along the way.

Silent Sentinels

If I had lived a hundred years ago, would I have been one of the silent sentinels, the women who stood outside the White House, day and night, from January 1917 to June 1919, advocating for the right to vote?

Would I have risked public humiliation to march with the suffragettes? Or would I have stayed home, even more silent, waiting for others to win the freedom I wanted?

Rotate the question just a little: if I lived in Damascus, now, would I be actively protesting Assad’s tyranny, or quietly waiting for things to blow over?

If I lived in Cairo, would I be finding my way to Tehrir Square?

We look back with rosy glasses to our own Declaration of Independence without much thought about the crisis of conscience faced by those called on to sign it. Robert Livingston, member of the five-man committee that met to craft its wording, never signed. Other delegates took their time adding their names; at least three refused to sign.

We forget that there were Loyalists, or Tories, maybe as many as one in five colonists, who sided with the status quo. And we forget that there were many who were neutral – hoping the conflict would pass them by, not sure independence was worth the cost.

I approach Independence Day with a sense of uneasiness. In part, I wonder if the holiday celebrates war, and wonder: if Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India, other colonies gained independence without war, would the same have been possible if the American colonists had exercised greater restraint, greater patience, more creative means of persuasion?

But my uneasiness also stems from a sense of unearned privilege: what have I ever done to deserve the freedoms denied to so many? And what have I done to use those freedoms wisely, or to see them extended to those without?

If freedom is a gift, it’s a gift with a cost, and a weight of responsibility.

What happens when too many of us take our freedoms for granted, or exercise our rights without adequate attention?

The Supreme Court decision last week on the Affordable Care Act threw the question into high relief.

Some people I know and respect listened to the news, then turned quickly to others things. “I’m not interested.” “Politics bores me.” These are people who care deeply about the needs of the world, who give time, money, prayer for those in trouble. These friends quickly dismiss the idea that a piece of legislation could be part of caring for human need, or that concern for others should prompt attention to political process. To them, the actions of government are irrelevant.

Others I know saw the court’s decision as a victory in the war on women. I understand why they use the term, but it seems to me that once we start thinking in terms of “war,” we are all losers. War breeds violence, hatred, inevitable loss. Are there better ways to carry on the discussion?

Yet others in my circle of friends consider the Affordable Care Act a dangerous move toward socialism, think President Obama is destroying the country, and are focusing great energy on seeing him defeated in November. People who have never invested much time in the political process are energized and angry. The more I listen, the more I wonder: What’s fueling the anger?

From what I can see, the Affordable Care Act is an imperfect attempt to resolve a wide mix of troubling problems: insurance companies that pocket too much profit and drive our health expenses ever higher; individuals with no primary care who use emergency rooms as their sole source of medical attention; a growing list of “existing conditions” that make adequate coverage impossible; families bankrupted when a parent loses both job and insurance and health expenses swallow a lifetime of savings. And yes, a system that costs women more in premiums, and sometimes denies women the legitimate care they need.

M Turner Obamacare

From what I can tell, the ACA is already benefitting many young adults, caught in part-time jobs while they look for full-time work that will offer health benefits and a salary adequate to pay back college loans. It’s benefitting friends who have struggled with existing conditions, and will eventually make preventive care possible for friends who currently postpone appointments and stop taking medications because they can’t afford them.

The issue for me, though, isn’t so much this particular legislation, it’s the conversation surrounding it. Are those who disagree with me on specific points evil monsters, or well-intentioned people who see things differently? Is Barack Obama an evil man? Is he trying to destroy America?

When a leader – on any side – advocates a policy or position I disagree with, am I free to speak of him as the enemy? Am I free to respond with anger? Am I justified in listening to public diatribes that ridicule, disrespect, misrepresent?

I understand those who run from any political dialogue because they’re tired of the angry rhetoric, or bored by the unstoppable harangues.

And I understand those who grab the party platform, endorse the party favorites, and dismiss all opposition.

But as a Christian, a follower of Christ, steward of gifts I’ve been given, including the right to vote, to speak, to investigate, I find myself caught in a troubling conundrum:

I believe I’m to honor and respect those in authority, even when I disagree with them.

I’m also to look for the best in others, to want their good, to rejoice in the truth.

I’m to listen more than I speak, to seek and model wisdom. I’m to advocate for the poor, earnestly desire justice, demonstrate humility.

And I’m called, as all followers of Christ are called, to be a peacemaker. Do I interpret that globally, advocating for an end to war? Nationally, advocating for peace between parties? Personally, looking for points of agreement with individuals whose opinions challenge mine? All three? Is that possible?

Here are a few questions I take seriously, and will be puzzling and praying about as we near the next election:

What is God for? I hear, maybe too often, about what He's against. But spread our priorities out in front of His word: which ones are worth pursuing? Which aren’t?

Should government be concerned with private morality (sexual expression, family composition), or with public morality (issues of equality, just policy, equitable economy)? Both? Neither? Is it possible to separate the two?

Is the best government the smallest? What are the proper roles of government? What happens when those roles are abandoned?

What is my own responsibility? Is it enough to be a good parent, wife, neighbor, here, in my own small part of the world, or am I called to use the privileges I’ve been given to advocate for others less able to advocate for themselves?

Who stands for the common good? Is it okay to pursue policies that benefit me, my own group, my own demographic, or am I called to affirm policies that benefit all of us – not just Americans, not just Christians, but all nations, all creation?

A Chinese proverb warns: "Unless we change direction, we are likely to end up where we are headed."

Or, as a wise friend of mine recently said "Unless something changes, nothing changes."

Are we headed in the right direction? As a country? As individual followers of Christ?

And if not, what do I need to change in my own life, in my own conversations, actions, expectations?

And what will that change cost?

lines for first Tunisian democratic election, October 201

This is the first in a series about faith and politics: What's Your Platform?

Please join the conversation. Your thoughts and experiences in this are welcome. Look for the "__ comments" link below to leave your comments.