Hate Americanism has blossomed frantically in recent years. Nearly the whole world seems to be pock-marked with lesions of hate. Some of this hatred focuses on George W. Bush, but much of it goes beyond the President to encompass the supposed evils of America and Americanism in general. In its passionate and unreasoning intensity, anti-Americanism resembles a religion?—or a caricature of a religion. And this fact tells us something important about Americanism itself.
By Americanism I do not mean American tastes or style, or American culture?—that convenient target of America-haters everywhere. Nor do I mean mere patriotic devotion; many nations command patriotic devotion from their citizens (or used to). By Americanism I mean the set of beliefs that are thought to constitute America?’s essence and to set it apart; the beliefs that make Americans positive that their nation is superior to all others?—morally superior, closer to God.
Frenchmen used to think France superior on account of its culture and civilisation; many still do. Germans once thought they were smarter, deeper and (possibly) racially superior. Englishmen once considered themselves natural rulers and believed that their governmental structures set Britain on a higher plane. And so on. Not all nations have ?“isms,?” and not all those who do (or did) have been equally serious about their particular ?“ism.?” America has one and is dead serious about it.
Most national ?“isms?” have seemed fearsome or hateful only insofar as they were militarily threatening. Communism was feared because of its power to foment internal subversion. In the late-18th and 19th centuries, America stood for radical republicanism and the breaking-down of inherited rank?—grounds for hatred among much of the European elite. But over the last century or so, America has remained an object of hatred within nations that have themselves gone over to American-style democracy; has been hated by people who had nothing whatsoever to fear from American power. America, Winston Churchill said during World War II, was the great republic ?“whose power arouses no fear and whose pre-eminence excites no jealousy.?” Evidently this is no longer true.
Americanism is notable, of course, not merely for its spectacular ability to arouse hate. Over the roughly four centuries of American and proto-American existence, it has also inspired remarkable feats of devotion. You would need some sort of fierce determination to set forth in a puny, broad-beamed, high-pooped, painfully slow, nearly undefended 17th-century ship to cross the uncharted ocean to an unknown, unmapped new world. You would need remarkable determination to push westward into the heartland away from settlement and safety. You would need ferocious bravado to provoke the dominant great power of the day on the basis of rather flimsy excuses, and ultimately to declare war and proclaim your independence. The Union side in the Civil War would have needed practically incandescent determination to keep fighting after the South had won decisive battles, slaughtered vast numbers of Union soldiers, and gained the sympathy of the two leading West European powers.
In the 20th century, you would have needed enormous determination to turn your back on the isolationism and anti-militarism that comes naturally to Americans and butt into World War I?—and then, after World War II, to reject isolationism once again when you accepted the Soviet empire?’s challenge. Freedom and independence for Greece and Turkey?—not exactly pressing American interests?—occasioned America?’s entry into the cold war. And what on earth would make an Idaho or Nebraska farmer?—that man about whom Tony Blair spoke so feelingly in his eloquent 2003 address to Congress?—believe that it was his responsibility to protect the Iraqi people and the world from Saddam Hussein? What did all that have to do with him?
By Sam Adams of Braintree
By Americanism I do not mean American tastes or style, or American culture?—that convenient target of America-haters everywhere. Nor do I mean mere patriotic devotion; many nations command patriotic devotion from their citizens (or used to). By Americanism I mean the set of beliefs that are thought to constitute America?’s essence and to set it apart; the beliefs that make Americans positive that their nation is superior to all others?—morally superior, closer to God.
Frenchmen used to think France superior on account of its culture and civilisation; many still do. Germans once thought they were smarter, deeper and (possibly) racially superior. Englishmen once considered themselves natural rulers and believed that their governmental structures set Britain on a higher plane. And so on. Not all nations have ?“isms,?” and not all those who do (or did) have been equally serious about their particular ?“ism.?” America has one and is dead serious about it.
Most national ?“isms?” have seemed fearsome or hateful only insofar as they were militarily threatening. Communism was feared because of its power to foment internal subversion. In the late-18th and 19th centuries, America stood for radical republicanism and the breaking-down of inherited rank?—grounds for hatred among much of the European elite. But over the last century or so, America has remained an object of hatred within nations that have themselves gone over to American-style democracy; has been hated by people who had nothing whatsoever to fear from American power. America, Winston Churchill said during World War II, was the great republic ?“whose power arouses no fear and whose pre-eminence excites no jealousy.?” Evidently this is no longer true.
Americanism is notable, of course, not merely for its spectacular ability to arouse hate. Over the roughly four centuries of American and proto-American existence, it has also inspired remarkable feats of devotion. You would need some sort of fierce determination to set forth in a puny, broad-beamed, high-pooped, painfully slow, nearly undefended 17th-century ship to cross the uncharted ocean to an unknown, unmapped new world. You would need remarkable determination to push westward into the heartland away from settlement and safety. You would need ferocious bravado to provoke the dominant great power of the day on the basis of rather flimsy excuses, and ultimately to declare war and proclaim your independence. The Union side in the Civil War would have needed practically incandescent determination to keep fighting after the South had won decisive battles, slaughtered vast numbers of Union soldiers, and gained the sympathy of the two leading West European powers.
In the 20th century, you would have needed enormous determination to turn your back on the isolationism and anti-militarism that comes naturally to Americans and butt into World War I?—and then, after World War II, to reject isolationism once again when you accepted the Soviet empire?’s challenge. Freedom and independence for Greece and Turkey?—not exactly pressing American interests?—occasioned America?’s entry into the cold war. And what on earth would make an Idaho or Nebraska farmer?—that man about whom Tony Blair spoke so feelingly in his eloquent 2003 address to Congress?—believe that it was his responsibility to protect the Iraqi people and the world from Saddam Hussein? What did all that have to do with him?
By Sam Adams of Braintree
