‘That’s not who we are’. You sometimes hear this from liberal Americans who disapprove of policies or actions taken by their country, or by its people or Presidents. But of course it’s not entirely true.
Going back over US history – if that is meant to indicate ‘who they are’ – we encounter numerous examples of crimes committed in the name of the country that could quite legitimately be taken as characteristic, and are reflected in its present situation and identity. Genocide (of native Americans) is one; slavery is another; Jim Crow a third; the whole ‘Western’ (cowboy) experience a fourth; unrestrained capitalism and the corruption associated with it a fifth; murder and the gun culture a sixth and seventh; imperialism – however you want to define it – an eighth; – and there are several other features of historical American culture that critics, especially foreign ones, might take to be more typical and defining of the present USA, than the right to ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness’ that figures so large in its original Declaration of Independence. This is not to single out America in particular for its national hypocrisy; most countries, including my own, are guilty of not living up to their stated ideals. As a British imperial historian I’m only too aware of this. And of course the US also has its admirable sides. The point is, however, that America places more emphasis on its founding ideals than do the rest of us, and so should surely be held to those ideals more strictly than we are to ours.
In any case ‘who we are’ is a difficult thing to establish, and may be a silly one to try. Most ‘national identities’ are over-simplified and confused. I’m not even sure of my own personal identity; or which one of my several identities – British, English, Essex, European, lately Swedish, male, middle-class, MA Cantab, academic, cricket lover, West Ham supporter – I would want to prioritise. In my case they’ve changed over time, with my ‘identity’ now being different from what it was fifty years ago; having been affected – for the better, I like to think – by my contact with other ‘identities’, especially when I was a graduate student of British imperial history, thrust into the company of the products of many other cultures, bits of all of which have clung to me. Because my ‘academicism’ remained constant during all these experiences, that is probably the identity that I would choose above the others; but that has little to do with where I come from, or with what we, as a nation, ‘are’. There are things I like about being English (and Swedish), and things I don’t. So far as I’m concerned it’s a mixed and ever-changing bag. And the same applies, on a broader scale, to the rather un-United States of America at the present time; to its eternal credit and benefit, for nothing is more sterile than uniformity and rigidity.
What I think American liberals mean by ‘that’s not who we are’, is that it’s not what they want their country to be. That’s fair enough; so long as they don’t assume that the America of the Declaration of Independence is a kind of natural or fall-back position. The story of the past 250 years has shown that it’s not that at all, but at best simply an ideal that needs to be struggled towards, against some of the other tendencies that have dominated America’s history for all that time; and especially today, when the countervailing forces are arguably stronger and more malevolent than they have been since the American Civil War. They’re also stronger throughout the West, of course, even in social-democratic Sweden, encouraged by the American example, and by American money; which means that we European liberals must be on our guard too. We’ve got dark precedents in our countries also. Very little in any of our histories is an infallible guide to ‘who we are’ today; and still less to ‘who we might be’. The same applies to the USA.