A century and a half of Independence Day celebrations have done little to reconcile America's troubled past. The upcoming Semiquincentennial commemorations will undoubtedly be filled with platitudes about unity, pride, and national identity. But beneath the pomp and circumstance lies a more complex reality – one that acknowledges the flag has long been a symbol of starkly opposing ideals.
The American flag was not always taken seriously as a national symbol until 1814, when Congress finally settled on its modern template. Yet, during and after the Civil War, it was seen as a source of division rather than unity. Southerners burned the flag, ripped it down, and spat on it – a stark contrast to the reverence with which it's now regarded.
The notion that America has always had a singular unifying narrative is a myth. The country's birth in 1776 was contested, its 100th birthday was marked by a conciliatory narrative that painted veterans as noble brothers, while the "emancipationist vision of Civil War memory" faded, replaced by the romance of Reconstruction.
The 1976 U.S. Bicentennial, which took place during a time of racial tensions and social upheaval, also privileged heritage over history. Native Americans were asked to commemorate what was for many a day of mourning, and American democracy is still grappling with deep structural inequalities that threaten its fabric.
Today's Republican and Democratic patriotism are worlds apart, and the sense of pride that once bound them together has worn thin. Pundits have openly despaired of America's "identity crisis" and called for a fresh national story to rally people to a new trajectory.
But there is no single unifying narrative that can serve an inclusive, patriotic identity. The country's history is complex and multifaceted, and attempting to forge a new heritage only risks perpetuating the same old myths and biases.
Instead of reaching for a new half-truth, it's time to acknowledge the flag's troubled past and support a ruling coalition that acknowledges its complexities while fighting for what it should be – a symbol of freedom, justice, and equality for all. History offers motley warnings, reality-checks, and sober inspirations – not a master narrative.
The grand narrative of America as a "shining city on a hill" has lost its use. It's time to take the broken participation trophy of American exceptionalism off the mantle and recognize that there is more than enough curiosity in this country to acknowledge all American histories, in all their differences.
The American flag was not always taken seriously as a national symbol until 1814, when Congress finally settled on its modern template. Yet, during and after the Civil War, it was seen as a source of division rather than unity. Southerners burned the flag, ripped it down, and spat on it – a stark contrast to the reverence with which it's now regarded.
The notion that America has always had a singular unifying narrative is a myth. The country's birth in 1776 was contested, its 100th birthday was marked by a conciliatory narrative that painted veterans as noble brothers, while the "emancipationist vision of Civil War memory" faded, replaced by the romance of Reconstruction.
The 1976 U.S. Bicentennial, which took place during a time of racial tensions and social upheaval, also privileged heritage over history. Native Americans were asked to commemorate what was for many a day of mourning, and American democracy is still grappling with deep structural inequalities that threaten its fabric.
Today's Republican and Democratic patriotism are worlds apart, and the sense of pride that once bound them together has worn thin. Pundits have openly despaired of America's "identity crisis" and called for a fresh national story to rally people to a new trajectory.
But there is no single unifying narrative that can serve an inclusive, patriotic identity. The country's history is complex and multifaceted, and attempting to forge a new heritage only risks perpetuating the same old myths and biases.
Instead of reaching for a new half-truth, it's time to acknowledge the flag's troubled past and support a ruling coalition that acknowledges its complexities while fighting for what it should be – a symbol of freedom, justice, and equality for all. History offers motley warnings, reality-checks, and sober inspirations – not a master narrative.
The grand narrative of America as a "shining city on a hill" has lost its use. It's time to take the broken participation trophy of American exceptionalism off the mantle and recognize that there is more than enough curiosity in this country to acknowledge all American histories, in all their differences.