As the U.S. prepares to mark its 250th anniversary, a growing chorus is calling for a fresh national narrative that can rally Americans around a shared sense of purpose and identity. But this may not be a story worth telling.
For nearly two and a half centuries, the American flag has served as a symbol of comfort in times of grief, unity in uncertain times, and pride during moments of great national joy. Yet, its meaning has never been fixed or settled upon. Until 1814, the flag was seen as little more than a piece of cloth, while Congress didn't even begin to standardize its design until four years later.
During the Civil War, the flag became a symbol of tyranny to many Southerners, who saw it as a representation of the federal government's attempts to impose its will on the states. Even today, the flag has been used in ways that are both patriotic and repugnant. In the 1960s, it was raised on the moon alongside those of soldiers killed in Vietnam, while also being draped over caskets of Chinese immigrants who had been separated from their children on Angel Island.
The problem with the current celebration of American independence is that it's built upon a fragile foundation. The country's founding was an achievement for white men, and many Republicans seem content to celebrate this heritage. Meanwhile, liberals have begun to feel uneasy about the traditional narrative of American exceptionalism, which has been used to justify everything from segregation to neoliberal economic policies.
The solution, as some argue, lies in creating a new "heritage" that can rally Americans around a shared sense of purpose and identity. However, this approach is misguided. The country's national identity has always been filtered and negotiated, useful and relatively honest – not something that can be simply rebranded or reimagined.
What we need instead are many stories, each one reflecting the complexities and contradictions of American history. This might include the struggles of Native Americans, the experiences of African Americans, the challenges faced by immigrant communities, and the ongoing fight for social justice and equality.
History has the power to warn us about the dangers of nostalgia and sentimentality, while also inspiring us to work towards a better future. By acknowledging the broken participation trophy of American exceptionalism, we can begin to build a new narrative that is more inclusive, nuanced, and just.
For nearly two and a half centuries, the American flag has served as a symbol of comfort in times of grief, unity in uncertain times, and pride during moments of great national joy. Yet, its meaning has never been fixed or settled upon. Until 1814, the flag was seen as little more than a piece of cloth, while Congress didn't even begin to standardize its design until four years later.
During the Civil War, the flag became a symbol of tyranny to many Southerners, who saw it as a representation of the federal government's attempts to impose its will on the states. Even today, the flag has been used in ways that are both patriotic and repugnant. In the 1960s, it was raised on the moon alongside those of soldiers killed in Vietnam, while also being draped over caskets of Chinese immigrants who had been separated from their children on Angel Island.
The problem with the current celebration of American independence is that it's built upon a fragile foundation. The country's founding was an achievement for white men, and many Republicans seem content to celebrate this heritage. Meanwhile, liberals have begun to feel uneasy about the traditional narrative of American exceptionalism, which has been used to justify everything from segregation to neoliberal economic policies.
The solution, as some argue, lies in creating a new "heritage" that can rally Americans around a shared sense of purpose and identity. However, this approach is misguided. The country's national identity has always been filtered and negotiated, useful and relatively honest – not something that can be simply rebranded or reimagined.
What we need instead are many stories, each one reflecting the complexities and contradictions of American history. This might include the struggles of Native Americans, the experiences of African Americans, the challenges faced by immigrant communities, and the ongoing fight for social justice and equality.
History has the power to warn us about the dangers of nostalgia and sentimentality, while also inspiring us to work towards a better future. By acknowledging the broken participation trophy of American exceptionalism, we can begin to build a new narrative that is more inclusive, nuanced, and just.