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November, 2004
Pride
Nick Curry
It is said (naïvely) that Oedipus's downfall was his overwhelming pride-hybris, not hubris, in Ancient Greek. In American culture, pride is valued highly for it leads to the sexy trait of confidence, and since sex sells, the marketing culture has become downright prurient.
American culture has permeated nearly the entire world, and Westernism is valued to the extent of causing the extinction of languages, customs, and rituals that were (until the West's invasion) practiced for centuries. We have literally exported our television shows and the resultant eating disorders to the far reaches of the globe.
But now, as I sit here in London, bastion of the West and capital of the civilized world, I wonder how much of British culture is influenced by America. Everyone who's anyone back in the States knows that Europeans are not afraid of sex or their bodies. It is us who are descendent from the Puritans, after all, and the values imposed by our government extend even to Janet Jackson.
My view of my own country has shifted greatly in my lifetime. When I was about 7, I was given an American flag for Christmas, and, naturally, I led my family in the Pledge of Allegiance. I exhibited the kind of juvenile patriotism, fuelled by mis-understanding (or un-understanding), that prompts otherwise reasonable people to attach plastic flags (made in Taiwan) to their SUV. This is the same kind that politicians exhibit and encourage in order to win elections.
More recently, I have learned about the philosophy guiding the creation of the Constitution and about the history of American politics, and I am frightened. I am now a citizen of the world's only superpower and, because a few men with money and therefore power have decided (without asking me) the exercise that power, the world's only bully. And I am not in the sanctuary of my own country.
Never once have I feared even the slightest mistreatment because of my nationality, and never once have I experienced it. I am, after all, in the civilized place I've ever been to. But I am not proud.
Whereas, in my small community in the States, I am known to be in opposition to actions undertaken in my name, I am faceless here, and somehow or another, everybody can tell that I'm American. And that is in spite of my greatest efforts to blend in, including wardrobe changes, hiding of maps and other "giveaways", and even mumbling so my thick Midwestern accent is less noticeable.
But why should I hide? I hope that I can (in the next few months) bring myself to exhibit my pride in humanity, but for now, I am always a representative of my country. And like Colin Powell, I feel as though I've had the legs cut out from under me.
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