“America.” How redolent a name, laden with import and meaning. Being part of America meant so very much to me, at the core of my soul. Because of all it represented for me — a great triumph of the human spirit, uplifting my own.
America. I almost want to henceforth eschew writing the name. Applying that hallowed, sacred name to the country here now would feel like a profanation. A travesty of its once noble self. Nor will it seem right to say “we” or “us,” because I no longer feel part of it. Many times I’ve discussed “us-against-them” psychology. Now I am a them.
A stranger in a strange land.
I once reviewed a book with a similar title (a nod to Robert Heinlein) by Arlie Hochschild, trying to understand Louisianans’ politics of disaffection. The whole MAGA phenomenon reflecting that — people thirsting to “take back” a country they felt had become alien.
Their concept of what that country did or should represent being very different from mine — steeped in my immersion in all of human history, in politics and government, in philosophy; embodying deeply felt humanist values. Those others are entitled to their differing feelings and values; but even so, I believe they’re making themselves doubly victims, their feelings and values exploited and manipulated for bad ends. Well, that’s what happens when there aren’t sound principles behind them.
So they will be disappointed. Far from taking their country back, they’ve handed it to a very bad gang. When will they see it? Throughout this whole saga, I kept writing, “it will get worse.” So it has, and I doubt it’s done yet. The bad results are more apt to mean a further doubling down.
I will stop here. I’ve got some Rational Optimist books to burn.
