By Mara Donaldson
I grew up on army posts where the days began and ended with the raising and lowering of the flag. In the mornings we could hear reveille as the flag was raised; at 5 p.m., we heard taps played as the flag was lowered. Around the dinner table, I listened to my father and mother and grandmothers tell war stories and tales of different places they had been assigned. When my brother decided to go to Annapolis instead of West Point, like our father, grandfathers and uncles had done, he broke with family tradition; he's now an admiral. So, it's safe to say that I learned about patriotism at a very early age. It meant "duty, honor, country." Duty meant "service;" honor meant "standing up for that in which you believed," and country meant "love of."
After Sept. 11, flags appeared everywhere, and patriotism became a household word throughout the country, not just on military bases. The Protestant theologian, Paul Tillich, said that symbols cannot be created; they are born and they die, and, unlike signs, they participate in the reality to which they point. Symbols, such as the flag, after Sept. 11 took on a new meaning. The flag still symbolized "patriotism," solidarity, being an American, but duty became synonymous with "spending money" to help the economy.
When I think of the greatest challenge facing us in this new century, I think of this new "patriotic duty"--to spend. However, this presents us with a conundrum. As former President Carter recently wrote in National Geographic, "Perhaps the most important challenge for the new century is to share wealth, opportunities, and responsibilities between the rich and the poor--for a world where the chasm between rich and poor grows wider will be neither stable nor secure. So far we have not made enough of a commitment to this goal."
For our country to prosper and thrive, however, others must work to produce what we must buy (e.g., Mexican auto workers, Nike laborers in Asia, illegal immigrant labor sponsored by companies here). We are being consumed by our consumption, spent by our spending. The problem, however, is easier to identify than to solve. Without being reductionistic, we gain some insight into possible understandings of "patriotism as consumption" if we pay attention to cultural clues. To paraphrase C. S. Lewis, "sometimes [fantasy] may say best what needs to be said."
Film versions of two popular books, both fantasies, released just a couple of months after the Sept. 11 attacks, provide examples that allow us to think about the meaning of patriotism as consumption. Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings teach us about empathy, thinking outside the box and reimagining power as opposed to self-serving greed or power plays. The former values suggest ways we may address the widening gap between the rich and the poor. How do we respect the less fortunate rather than exploit them for our economic benefit?
It is hard not to empathize with Harry Potter, outcast in the Dursley family. Orphaned as a baby, Harry bears a symbolic scar that physically alienates him from his aunt, uncle and nephew. He sleeps in the closet under the stairs, more a servant than a member of a family. He is clearly not at home in the Muggle world of the Dursleys, which differs greatly from the wizard world into which he was born.
Most of our students here at Dickinson are born into worlds far removed from those they experience during overseas study, especially at our centers in India, Cameroon and Mexico. Many of them learn to feel empathy for people in these less-advantaged cultures. On a daily basis they see fear, poverty and suffering among their new friends and families, illuminating the differences between the way the students live in the United States and the way of life for people in their host countries. Students return to Dickinson changed, wanting to help, whether by participating in groups such as Amnesty International or developing a continuing interest in social issues.
Love of country does not mean we should exclude people who are not of our world. Love of country is enhanced by connecting, by envisioning a global world without borders, by overcoming the confinement of fixed patterns of thinking and acting and by celebrating difference. This is truly thinking outside the box. The Muggle world depicted in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is not a bad world; it is just stagnant and idolizes its stale mores and values. It rejects that which is different; it wants more of the same.
In the Harry Potter film, the person who thinks outside the box is Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. He saves Harry's life and destroys the Sorcerer's Stone, a symbol of infinite money and life, "... the two things most human beings would choose above all." When Harry wonders how he reached the stone, Dumbledore says, "You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone--find it, but not use it--would be able to get it." Here the value of the quest is highlighted, not the goal of achieving personal enrichment.
Another example, this one drawn from Lord of the Rings, further exemplifies the contrasting values of the old versus the new patriotism. The "One Ring to rule them all" is the symbol of absolute power over everything. Frodo, the Hobbit, agrees to take the ring to the Mountains of Fire in Mordor so it can be destroyed. He doesn't consider that possessing the ring will bring him power and riches. He doesn't even fully understand the power of the ring; he just knows he has to find it and destroy it. For his selfless, dutiful actions he is appointed Ring-bearer.
In contrast, another character, Gollum, has already wasted away in protecting his "precious"--the ring. The ring gives its wearer power over everything, at the same time consuming he who wears it. Gollum's greedy behavior delineates the link between the thirst for power and consumption.
In our real world, the flag remains the symbol of our patriotism, but that symbol has become a two-edged sword. Being patriotic means putting up the flag and pulling out the credit cards. We are becoming consumed by these twin images, as even the recent Enron scandal shows. What do these "patriotic" gestures disguise? How will we learn empathy, something that cannot be bought? Or learn to think outside the box, to envision a global neighborhood, or use power for action and compassion? Who will be our Ring-bearer now?