Why the Political Left Should Love America

“You depart on a ship
from a country like this.
Why on earth would you want to
be leaving?”

– Tateh (Brandon Uranowitz), “Journey On,” from the revival of the musical Ragtime.

Jerusalem Demsas, in a recent piece for The Argument, “You have to love America to save it,” makes a case for progressive patriotism. Her argument is behind a paywall, but you can listen to her talk about it with Jon Favreau on Offline.

I agree with Demsas’s argument, that the political left should love America, though it was made much earlier by Martha Nussbaum in her elegantly written book Political Emotions: Why Love Matters for Justice, published in 2013.

Nussbaum points out that “sometimes people suppose that only fascist or aggressive societies” are full of big political emotions. She observes that one reason Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Gandhi were such effective political leaders was that “they understood the need to touch citizens’ hearts and to inspire, deliberately, strong emotions directed at the common work before them” (2).

Political values of whatever kind “need emotional support” (2). Nussbaum further contends that a liberal society committed to “justice and equal opportunity for all” must dedicate itself to fostering the right kinds of political emotions, emotions that strengthen and stabilize our commitment to the core political principles just mentioned.

That entails two tasks:

The first task “is to engender and sustain strong commitment to worthy projects that require effort and sacrifice—such as social redistribution, the full inclusion of previously excluded groups, the protection of the environment, foreign aid, and the national defense” (3).

The second task is “to keep at bay forces that lurk in all societies, and, ultimately, in all of us: tendencies to protect the fragile self by denigrating and subordinating others” (3). This task pertains to what Nussbaum, borrowing from Kant, calls “radical evil.”

Radical evil, as Nussbaum develops it, is original narcissism (161–203). We come into the world primarily concerned with controlling others to ensure our survival. If we are lucky, we learn to extend our sphere of concern to include love of others, especially those outside of our families and intimate friendships.

Unfortunately, narcissism is more fashionable than love politically. Just ask Hillary Clinton about love and kindness as politics.

Love, however, should organize our politics. Or so Nussbaum argues: “I shall argue that all of the core emotions that sustain a decent society have their roots in, or are forms of, love—by which I mean intense attachment to things outside the control of our will . . . . Love, I shall argue, is what gives respect for humanity its life, making it more than a shell” (15).

On the Left, it is undoubtedly true that love of country, or patriotism, is an especially fraught political emotion. In this respect, Trumpian and progressive politics are in alignment: America is a hellscape. The only difference between the two political views is how each defines what constitutes America’s hellishness. To be clear, the difference is not symmetrical—but the response is: negative sentiment that undercuts loving concern for (the future of) one’s country and fellow citizens.

Demsas points out that patriotism calls forth intense emotions in people. For some, love of country means approving a(n ongoing) history of racism. To them, patriotism is immoral. Yes, Nussbaum argues, affection for one’s country can go horribly wrong.

Love of country can behave like Scylla, the mythical monster that snatches sailors who pass too close to one side of a narrow channel, tearing them apart with her many heads and terrible teeth.

Scylla represents, for Nussbaum, three dangers. First, the danger of “misplaced and exclusionary values.” Second, the danger of “burdening minority conscience by the imposition of ritual performances” (e.g., saying the Pledge of Allegiance). Third, the danger of “an excessive emphasis on solidarity and homogeneity that threatens to eclipse the critical spirit” (207).

There is a second monstrous form that lives on the other side of the channel, one that undercuts the development of critical patriotic feeling. It is figured by Charybdis, a whirlpool or “‘watery’ motivation, the problem,” Nussbaum observes, “that Aristotle thought would beset any society that tried to run its business without particularized love” (207).

Navigating the narrow channel between Scylla and Charybdis, developing a critical patriotism, must be learned. Nussbaum proposes teaching patriotism in schools, with the following content:

1. “Begin with love“: Teaching a critical patriotism, one that takes the narrow path between the two monsters, requires teaching our children “to care about the nation and its history” (250).
2. “Introduce critical thinking early, and keep teaching it.” Children “can learn the skills of reasoning with joy, indeed, love, if they are presented cleverly and in an age-appropriate way” (251). “Rote learning” is the enemy of a critical patriotism.
3. “Use positional imagination in a way that includes difference.” Teachers “should connect the struggles over inclusion in their nation’s history to the ongoing efforts in the classroom to confront issues of stigma and bullying since every classroom has such issues” (252).
4. “Show the reasons for past wars without demonizing.” On the one hand, we don’t want children to think that war is always wrong, as there are (or may be) times in which the nation must be defended. On the other hand, we don’t want children “to learn to rush into wars as if they were occasions for glory rather than bitter struggle. So, learning about the horrors and pains of war is altogether appropriate” (252–253).
5. “Teach a love of historical truth, and of the nation as it really is.” Nussbaum argues that “the past is not self-evident, that it must be painstakingly put together from materials that are not self-interpreting. And yet, they must also learn that not all narratives are equal, that some are terrible distortions and evasions, that ideology is not the same thing as patient historical reconstruction” (254).

Demsas and Nussbaum point out that patriotism is not an unqualified good.

“Love of one’s own nation,” Nussbaum observes, “is not a good thing in itself. Very often it is a very bad thing” (256). And yet, if “people interested in relief of poverty, justice for minorities, political and religious liberties, democracy, and global justice eschew symbol and rhetoric, fearing all appeals to emotion and imagination as inherently dangerous and irrational, people with less appetizing aims will monopolize these forces, to the detriment of democracy, and of people” (256).

Today, Trump will preside over our country’s 250th birthday. That more than proves Nussbaum’s point. We can’t afford to cede patriotic feeling and imagination to “people with less appetizing aims.” To do so means giving up on a worthy project, one that requires intense patriotic feeling: ensuring justice and mercy for all.