Racism, Tribalism, Nationalism, Patriotism

The United States of America has often been characterized as a virulently racist country. In many cases this characterization exists because of our own depiction in our own popular media (which much of the world watches) of our shameful past. Certainly some of this hand-wringing is justified, but I posit that, at least for youngest generation—Generation Y, we have really moved past this and, while electing a black president doesn't heal all wrongs, I think most of the rest of the world does recognize that we have truly turned a corner in race relations.

With this said, I think it is fair to examine the issue of racism in other countries, more specifically the problem of nationalism. Granted, Americans are very patriotic, to the point that many Americans naively consider all other countries vastly inferior in most regards, but it is not the same kind of nationalism or even tribalism seen elsewhere in the world. For one thing, we are not really a nation! We are a country made up of various nationalities and ethnicities to the point that we consider the word “nationally” synonymous with “citizenship.” I have been surprised to learn that in many countries, ethnic minorities are never considered “(country)-ians” regardless of how long their forefathers have shared the same territory with the “true” citizens of said country. By definition, anyone born inside to borders of the United States is automatically granted citizenship and—certainly by the second generation—no one would not consider their children as full-fledged Americans.

Nearly every ethic/national group in the world says something to the effect of: “we are the proud (blank) people, the ancient and noble race that once ruled over this entire area (insert greatest extent of borders) in a large, prosperous, and peaceful kingdom/empire, but then at another time were brutally oppressed by our evil neighbors, yet managed maintain our special cultural practices and identity.” Then they go on to list all kinds discoveries and inventions regardless of how tangential their countrymen’s contributions were. I trust that I don't have to try to explain how ridiculous this concept is, since you have to agree there is no people group in the world that is not proud of its progenitors and therefore does not say something like this!

This “us vs. them” rivalry is seen between similarly sized and advanced people groups—each of them claiming a certain measure of superiority. It is often rooted in language; the endonym of many nations in their language are derived from a word meaning “the true/real people.” This is not only the case of small tribes in remote jungles, but even the word “German”—for example—suggests that the old Germans (soft G) considered themselves as descendants of the true seed or germ of humanity. Likewise, exonyms are often derogatory; for example, in most Slavic languages the German language and people are referred to as some variant of “Nemski,” suggestive of someone who is mute (unable to speak or use words) as opposed to “Slavo” meaning “word” (please note, this happened many centuries ago, I am not saying modern nationals believe or even know this.) My point is that these cultural mythologies are so deeply ingrained that all but the most cosmopolitan consider them as fact.

Vicious Cycle
The more harmful nationalism/racism is that which oppresses already downtrodden minorities. In the USA this generally means blacks (who, actually, often have a longer history in this country) and Hispanic; in Western Europe it is immigrants (especially non-European); and in Eastern Europe it is the Roma (Gypsy) population that has lived among their countrymen for centuries without assimilating. I was surprised to discover that—even in as homogeneous place such as Japan—there is a minority group called the Burakumin, members of which are still discriminated against to this day based solely on their family names (and the lowly occupations their ancestors held.)

For most of my life, I have been against affirmative action, or any other policies that favors any group over another. Growing up, I naively thought that since I was presented with the same opportunities in school that many of my black classmates (and in many cases, their parents as well) seemingly purposefully rejected, that—collectively as the majority—I was no longer responsible for the well-being of this population. Even today, I am surrounded be people who believe we should immediately end (or, at least, drastically cut) all welfare and affirmative action programs. While this attitude is understandable in the proverbial (Aesop's Fable) “ant and grasshopper” context, I remind people that I have lived in such a country—where minorities are simply ignored—and it is not pretty: Roma villages and ghettos across eastern Europe are third-world communities within developing countries that benefit no one as they spiral downward into ever-worsening conditions.

The problem with this “it’s not my fault” attitude is that, without external assistance, these communities are never going to pull themselves out of the mire…by virtue of the fact they are already in this desperate situation. Then, due to the inherit hopelessness of this kind of situation, the logic of some follows a most disturbing conclusion: genocide.

What we often forget is the advantages we have from the family and community we grew up in. These advantages came from our parents, who read to us from an early age, imbibed us with a strong work ethic, and insisted we do well in school, the peers who challenged us academically, the older siblings and cousins who showed us the ropes to succeeding in high school and college, the friends with whom we competed for success throughout our educational and professional careers, and—most importantly—an expectation of success from nearly everyone, based solely on our background. Certainly we do see highly successful individuals come out of the most neglected communities, but these are rare exceptions. Just as most of us come from an average, middle class background that led us to become middle to upper-middle class citizens; the average, lower-class minority has little hope of moving up in society—there is simply no expectation of this happening, so it doesn’t happen. While this is sometimes manifest in actual prejudice/discrimination, more often the problem is just lowered expectation, even from within this disenfranchised community.

Certainly the most effective solutions could come from within these communities, members of which know best the intricacies and thinking of their own community and therefore are more influential than an outsider. Unfortunately, this rarely happens; there are just not enough of these people, and they are often not esteemed in their own community—they are frequently seen as having abandoned their culture by virtue of their discipline and success.

Another option to address these inequities is through private and religious-based charities. These are generally effective, but are so small that they are only able to help a very few people in a few, select communities. Therefore—despite a general dislike of large and wasteful government programs—I must admit that the only solution for under-performing minority populations is the costly government and inter-governmental programs that just “keep their heads above water” with the hope of an eventual assimilation into the middle class.

Win-win
I don’t want sound like the proverbial naïve liberal who thinks we just need to hold hands and sing Kumbaya around the campfire to make everything better. No, I am the cold, calculating MBA that is simply looking for the most beneficial outcome for all parties involved, because if my neighbors (both near and far) are richer and more educated, it benefits me as well (more consumers for my employer’s/industry’s products and less crime due to desperate situations.) Certainly countries, nationalities, and regions have various competitive advantages (meaning some are indeed more educated, some better at manufacturing, some at agriculture…and, of course, these advantages change as a nation develops), and this is exactly what makes global trade so successful (the old zero-sum game thinking has long ago been discredited.) This is why I am in favor of any policy that encourages free trade, free movement of people, intercultural exchange, and effective international development/aid.

I do not purport to have all the answers; I only write this—dear reader—to ask you to consider the following: why do you find pride in the accomplishments of your ancestors and countrymen, and what does it really matter; aren’t others just as proud of their heritage? Are you just a pawn being played by the propaganda of your country or ethnicity? What benefit do you derive from the suffering of other people? Even in this self-examination, don’t get lulled into the trap of thinking “I’m not as bad as those people; they are really prejudiced!” I readily admit that I also pre-judge strangers based solely on outward appearance—this is human nature, so let’s at least be aware of it. Despite my German ethnicity and American citizenship, I will only boast that I am Joel Froese, human being; resident of planet Earth.

Mark Twain's War Prayer

I think it is appropriate, on this Sunday before Memorial Day, when—in churches all across the United States—living and fallen soldiers are venerated for their actions in "fighting for our freedom," that I republish this often overlooked short story by America's favorite author.

The War Prayer

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.

Sunday morning came—next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams—visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation: God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!

Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory...

An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"

The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside—which the startled minister did—and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:

"I come from the Throne—bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import—that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of—except he pause and think.

"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two—one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this—keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

"You have heard your servant's prayer—the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it—that part which the pastor...and also you in your hearts—fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. the whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory – must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle—be Thou near them! With them—in spirit—we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it—for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

(After a pause.) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!"

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.

-Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910)

Incidentally, this pervasive militaristic (and, quite frankly—heretical) patriotism is why I generally avoid church on Memorial Day, 4th of July, and Veteran's Day.