Patriotism is when love of your own people comes first; nationalism, when hate for people other than your own comes first. —Charles de Gaulle
Patriotism does not mean being a jerk about being an American
The photos I’ve chosen for this topic are intentionally cheesy. I didn’t have any pictures of a bikini-clad model waving a flag or any similar nonsense, but I do have pictures of fireworks and models in bikinis so I put them together with sufficient results. I could easily slap a red, white, and blue “USA” over the top and pass them off as something patriotic, but to do so would be wrong and devalues the concept of patriotism. Instead, this cheese plays more to the concept of nationalism and an attitude that, long term, is rather problematic.
My stomach turned a little yesterday when I saw that the leading “domestic” beer brand, Budweiser (which isn’t American owned, by the way), had changed its name to America through the presidential elections this fall. You can now drink America, become inebriated on America, piss America, puke America, and be arrested for driving under the influence of America. That creates a lovely mental picture, doesn’t it? While Budweiser execs claim that they’re being patriotic, what they’re doing is pandering to a level of nationalism, the same nationalistic ideals that have a leading presidential candidate claiming he can bring America back to greatness. I have some bad news for you: both are full of male bovine excrement.
Many people hold the mistaken belief that nationalism and patriotism are the same, but that would be far from the truth. Nationalistic fervor is rooted in power and exclusion. Patriotism is rooted in emotion and responsibility. While the two can look similar, they are, at their core, quite different. Furthermore, Americans are among the few who don’t already have a good grasp on the concepts. European and Asian countries see nationalism as a power play, often a political stance appealing to pride in national domination. Patriotism, on the other hand, is seen as an act of service, a responsibility one has for living in the country.
One of the best distinctions between nationalism and patriotism comes from the pen of George Orwell some 70-plus years ago. What he said then still holds just as true today, so let’s look at what he had to say:
Nationalism is not to be confused with patriotism. Both words are normally used in so vague a way that any definition is liable to be challenged, but one must draw a distinction between them, since two different and even opposing ideas are involved. By ‘patriotism’ I mean devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world but has no wish to force on other people. Patriotism is of its nature defensive, both militarily and culturally. Nationalism, on the other hand, is inseparable from the desire for power. The abiding purpose of every nationalist is to secure more power and more prestige, not for himself but for the nation or other unit in which he has chosen to sink his own individuality.
Interestingly enough, nationalism wasn’t even much of an issue until the rise of the Romantic period in the early 19th century. Prior to that point, patriotism ruled even in power struggles; people took the dominant perspective that it was their responsibility to defend their country against external attack, but were polite and accommodating toward others. With the Romantic period, though, nationalism, that concept that one country was great to the exclusion of all others, became dominant. We not only see in it the political struggles of the time, but literature, art, and music. Once it took hold, nationalism never left. Unchecked and taken to its extreme, nationalism was a primary factor in the rise of Nazi Germany in the 1930s.
Seeing the United States being pushed toward, and embracing a nationalism bordering on extremism is frightening. Actions are being taken in the name of patriotism that are not patriotic at all. Those who support such nationalistic ideals are using that sentiment to establish a dominating power that, left unchecked, cannot help but lead to horrible crimes against humanity. We need to understand the difference between nationalism and patriotism and realize how dangerous the wrong attitude can be. Consider:
- Patriotism celebrates diversity; nationalism finds strength in a single race and single religious belief, to the forced exclusion of all others.
- Patriotism honors those who help others; nationalism preserves all resources for their own use.
- Patriotism recognizes the responsibility of serving; nationalism exploits the strengths of a strong military.
- Patriotism learns from criticism and looks for ways to improve; nationalism is insulted by criticism and attempts to dominate those who are critical of the nation’s behavior.
- Patriotism admits that we make mistakes and learns from them; nationalism attempts to justify one’s actions and admits no wrong.
- Patriotism values peace and is willing to compromise to avoid conflict; nationalism prefers military domination over everyone.
I love the United States as much as anyone, but as a patriot, I have to see our shortcomings, I have to recognize that we are not perfect, and I have to take responsibility for my participation in that imperfection. While I have no problem defending this country, I have no need or desire to see her dominate the world or outer space in order to be great. As a patriot, I see the greatness that has always existed in this country and I know that greatness comes in part from our diversity and our ability to, since the moment the Mayflower landed on these shores, accept those who are not wanted anywhere else.
There is always room for greater patriotism, but this current nationalistic bullshit needs to stop. And change the name of the fucking beer back to Budweiser. America is better than some two-bit, watered-down, weak-ass excuse for a lager. Please.
A Mother’s Beauty
Mother’s love is peace. It need not be acquired, it need not be deserved. —Erich Fromm
Mother’s Day brings plenty of memories, but we forget the beauty sacrifices mothers make for us.
I typically avoid the topic of mothers on Mother’s Day, partly because that’s what everyone is talking about and I’m not sure I can, or should, compete for your attention. Mother’s Day is also a little sad now that my own mother is gone. Some days it is better to let others do all the talking.
We romanticize our mothers in a sense, not that such a perspective is inappropriate, but our love for our mothers sometimes keeps us from seeing the depth of a mother’s sacrifice for her children.  She wouldn’t bring it up, of course, mothers rarely do. But what we remember of our mothers is seen through the perspective of a child. We don’t see what all went on in a mother’s life before she had children and everything she willingly gave up for us.
There aren’t many pictures still around of my mother when she was young. Her family was dirt poor and didn’t have a camera so the only pictures are those someone else took and gave her. What I see in those few pictures, though, is someone with a quick smile, sparkling eyes, and curly jet-black hair. I can understand why Poppa found her attractive. She was petite, like her other mother, with her father’s slim build; enough curve to be feminine, but not so much as to appear inappropriately sexual, which was apparently a thing back in the 1950s. She wore bobby socks with loafers and heels and gloves as was common at the time. Poppa said she was very prim and proper, very strict in her etiquette, but more than anything, he said she was beautiful.
Sure, everyone thinks their mother is beautiful, but we don’t see the same beauty that our fathers did. We see someone who is loving and caring and made sacrifices for us so that we could have everything we needed. Remember, though, that our fathers knew our mothers before we did and they saw her beauty in a different light. Â They saw a side of a mother’s beauty that we’re not all that comfortable discussing. Despite everything that might have happened later, all the arguments and divorces, the illnesses and emotional issues, before we were born our fathers thought our mothers were sexy. They wouldn’t likely use that word in front of us, but that’s what they were thinking.
I occasionally come across someone who has nude photographs of their mother taken before they were born. We don’t often think of artistic nude photography having existed much before Helmut Newton, but it most certainly did, and was secretly very popular. Â The difference was that they kept those photos to themselves. There was no Internet or social media on which to share them, so rarely did anyone else ever know they had been taken and it certainly wasn’t something they would just show to the kids. Typically, the photos are found by the adult child while helping their mother go through things later in her life. They elicit all knew stories about a side of our mothers we never considered: they were sexy.
Then, we came along and spoiled it all. The effect might not have happened immediately. Some women’s bodies handle childbirth better than others. Others, though, never lose the weight they put on carrying you. Hips that widened to facilitate your delivery didn’t snap back in place. If you kicked the wrong thing while you were swimming around in all that amniotic fluid, you likely created a physical problem your mother had to endure the rest of her life. She was thrilled to nurse you and cuddle you close, but because of that her breasts sag and she never looked the same in a swimsuit again.
You gave her stretch marks and those dark circles under her eyes from 18-plus years of never getting enough sleep and worrying about the trouble she knew you were getting into, even if she didn’t know exactly what it was. You killed her arches as she ran after you in shoes that were not meant for running. Her joints eventually became stiff and arthritic from all the times she put herself in unnatural positions to find that toy you had just dropped, or teaching you how to play leap frog, or picking you up and carrying you from the playground after you fell from the swing, again.
Before you were born, that lady you now call your mom paid more attention to how she looked when she went out. Her ensemble was carefully put together, even if it was more bohemian and less Chanel. She might have even worn makeup and had her nails done. After you came along, though, she was happy if what she was wearing didn’t have any fresh stains and if everything matched it was more by coincidence than design. Your mother’s stylist thought you were cute, but secretly hated you because your mother went from trying out different cuts and colors to short and easy-to-manage.
After  you came along, your mother didn’t go out with friends as often, didn’t travel as much, gave up on trying to fit into Gloria Vanderbilt jeans and damn sure wanted to make sure there was sufficient coverage between her and her Calvin’s. Almost everything that had gone into making her so physically desirable to your father either you ruined or she had to give up to care for you, except for one thing: Love.
And that’s what we remember on Mother’s Day: her love. After all, that’s what is important, right? Nothing else matters, at least, not now. A mother’s beauty isn’t defined by how “hot” she looks, how many heads she once turned, or how many hearts she once broke. A mother’s beauty is defined by how she could kiss a boo-boo and make the pain go away, or how she knew exactly when you needed her to make those special pancakes, or how she could mend a broken heart then help you plot revenge. She likes that definition.
Mothers don’t care about what they’ve given up for you. The love you and, in the vast majority of situations, would do everything all over again (with the benefit of a little wisdom from the experience). She loves you, you love her, and that makes everything beautiful enough for her. But don’t you ever forget that she did make those sacrifices. I’ll tell you what she might not: you owe her. Big.
A poet, whose name escapes me at the moment, once said that a mother’s beauty is defined is defined by the grace and compassion of her children. Your mother gave up a lot for you. Make her beautiful, damnit.
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