The Inauguration

Eight years ago this past November I was dismayed at the apparent lack of intuition Americans had for what was good for the country; four years ago this past November I awoke one morning thinking that I lived in a nation of idiots and they had elected one of their own as leader. Tomorrow we will inaugurate another in the long line of leaders elected to direct the course of my beloved country. However, in the days following the election this past November, I became aware that there was something different about my citizenship, indeed, about the whole system of beliefs I held about America.

I am a Scottish immigrant, having come here with my parents at, what Freud would call, the height of my psycho-sexual development. From the vantage point of a schoolroom in Galston, Ayrshire, the United States was truly "the mystical, magical land of America," if I might borrow a phrase from Paul Simon. To my boyhood sensibilities and childhood naivete, I was more than disappointed to discover, upon my landing at O'Hare Field, that there were no stagecoaches; no cowboys; no indians. I was wrenched from my romanticized world by the August heat, the velocity with which cars sped past pedestrians on the sidewalks, and the vastness of corn fields, stretching for mile upon mile as we travelled northward to Wisconsin and what would be my home for the next ten years or so and which would also remain the fond home of my childhood as I ventured out across America.

Yes, I knew I was different in grade school, junior high, and high school, but the difference was just that I was "the kid from Scotland." I had become a naturalized citizen at the same time my parents did and nothing seemed to set me apart from other citizens; at least that was the case until my freshman year in c0llege. There, during freshman speech class, I first became aware of the difference between me and my fellow Americans.

One of my classmates, a political science major, started off her speech with a piece of poetry and asked the class--and you can imagine the size of a required freshman speech class-- if anyone knew what that piece of poetry was. In the entire class, only one hand went up, and it was mine; just to be sure that I knew the answer, she asked me to identify it; I correctly identified it as the second verse of the Star Spangled Banner. Such was the love this Scottish immigrant bore his beloved America. From that day to this I have been aware of what, for lack of a better description, I call a qualitative difference in types of patriotism.

During the last two presidential campaigns much has been made of the patriotism issue, ranging from the "swiftboat" ads to the "war hero." The patriotism that soldiers have is qualitatively different from the type of patriotism that politicians have; the former sees what is good for the country in terms of the domination of a particular way of life; albeit, this way of life may not be spelled out in detail in the mind of the soldier. The latter sees patriotism as the triumph of a particular ideology, in spite of the fact that the ideology promoted may not have brought about the changes anticipated when last it was implemented. In addition to these types of patriotism there is that ilk of patriotism shared by immigrants of all stripes; in these cases, the love of America arises from the promises inherent in the image of America that is promulgated abroad--the love of America is the love of the particular type of freedom sought, i.e., economic, religious, political, etc. In my case, none of these apply because I was too young to be a soldier, politician, or to articulate a particular freedom I wish I had and saw that I could have in America--I was taken to America. In what, then, does my patriotism consist?

My patriotism consists in this, namely, that I want for America what is good, and right, and just because we are "One Nation Under God." "Ah," you say, "but isn't that what we all want?" Yes, it is what we all want; but we disagree as to what it is precisely that is the good, the right, and the just. This disagreement has caused every war, all poverty, all cruelty, hatred, and intolerance of every kind. The inability to come to agreement on this issue is a symptom of personal fragmentation; and, as a result, the intuition that would normally guide our decision making has been poisoned, crippled, and distorted; indeed, the ills of our society reflect the condition of our intuition in every respect. Every ill we see in the world is of our own creation; and can be remedied only by healing the guidance mechanism that our personal intuition affords us.

This healing amounts to nothing more than personally affirming the wholeness of each individuated consciousness; and we affirm it by finding, identifying with, and living in the self-consciousness of the "I" of "I Am."

I can almost hear the objections to this insight now; claiming that it smacks of religion and that we must maintain the separation of church and state; and that such statements have no business in politics. Well, consider this, I have been repeating the question posed by my classmate these many years and I have yet to find someone who knew the answer; why didn't you raise your hand? We can often benefit from the perspective of another on our problems; as Einstein has noted, we cannot solve a problem from within the same consciousness that created it. And, as the Scottish poet, Robert Burns, also noted, "I wish God would give us the power to see ourselves as other people see us." "I AM" giving you this power right now.

A few days after the recent presidential election the newswires were abuzz with talk of how historic this election was and how great a step America had made. But I have seen a kitten raised with puppies who thought that it was a puppy too until one day, when chasing a squirrel, it was the only one able to run up the tree after it. Should there be celebration? Is that a historic happening? I asked myself the following rhetorical question in the midst of all this news buzz "Am I the only person in America who is not racist?" The jubilation that was, and still is, expressed belies a deeper, although now dethroned, racism; in my America this was expected, and what is expected is no surprise. The deeper question now is: "What is the difference between my America and yours; what is it that I see that you do not; how was my vision of America formed?"

I used to think of myself as, more or less, "the man in the street" but no longer; apparently, I have a perspective and vantagepoint on America shared by few, but available to all. Perhaps tomorrow we should inaugurate a new self, the "I Am" of us; this is, after all, AMerica.

God bless you all and, especially, God bless America!!