the myth of my country
First seen on my Substack, A Brief Note
This note was primarily inspired by the intersection of taking a course on American Government hosted on edX and reading Early Greece by Oswyn Murray. Although I doubt it was the intention, the textbook and readings for the course (particularly a few key Federalist Papers) never ceased to fill me with rage, angst, and a sense that we need massive reform. In my quest to understand my own government more I walked away worrying about her future. Not long after I managed to parse my way through the Murray’s chapter on Sparta and the Hoplite State, which had fascinating parallels with the past and present of my mother country.
This was rewritten and reorganized in full at least 5 times and remains a shallow analysis, but these are my initial thoughts formatted as concisely as possible.
Whether it’s the Golden Dawn in Greece, or Trump and the Oath Keepers in the United States the myth of Sparta holds sway not only over our collective cinematic imagination, but our political ideology as well. While it’s becoming a sort of brotherhood for perpetually online far-right trolls, the great “ideal of society” as seen by Aristotle and Plato has influenced most European, and subsequently European-influenced, governments. In a watered down and thoughtfully integrated form this may not spell disaster, but what of those governments that seem doomed to repeat history because they refuse to properly honor it?
What we view so simplistically as a structured and brave nation (or as code for ‘“white civilization”) is a constant reconstruction and reinterpration that should be met with skepticism and perhaps caution. Sparta, even in it’s own time, was a myth. A mere idealization of traditions that maintained a strict hierchacial structure while challenges to aristocratic rule rocked the world around them. The “myth” is typical of a “society which overvalues its past, and seeks to use it to justify the present” and is the best tool of control. Eunomia, that blessed “good order” and self-sacrifice to the state, has been praised by oligarchs, aristocrats, and reactionaries grasping for examples to justify their notions of proper social order to maintain their power since the days of the flourishing polis.
While many nations have been influenced by this early powerhouse, none seem to reflect it quite as well as the United States. There is an almost one-for-one match in an obsession with an unchanged constitution, extreme social stratification, and a privileged class relying on adherence to tradition to advance their agendas. This is particularly obvious in rabid modern Conservative movements, which rarely attempt to hide the fact that they want to role back the clock to better align with their desired social structure. However, the blunt tool of tradition is used liberally throughout the oligarchic political class. Regardless of affiliation there is an underlying assertion that we are the best, the greatest, the most advanced country in the world and it is all because of our foundational ideals. It is a myth of superiority that requires the belief that A.) We are currently superior and B.) We were suprior at our founding and that A is a direct result of relying on the traditions of B. Buying in to this belief system requires present and future movements fall in line with the past.
Of course the best, most enduring myths stem from sticky heroic figures. Their origins lie in oracles, gods, godlike men, or men who become gods. The ruling deities of the United States, the Founding Fathers, are no different. We worship them by memorializing them via statues, museums, musicals, and printing their likeness on our holiest of artifacts- money. They are our gods, and willingly or not, they are the roadblocks to progress. The Constitution is our crown jewel, but no matter which traditionalist cap you wear — originalist or idealist — all discussions inevitably devolve into an argument over exactly what the authors meant, or how they would feel about it today.
The power of the Constitution thus lies not in any modern interpretation, but in our deification of the men who first drafted it.
Communing with the dead to divine their sentiment and intent, or to get their approval on present political action or reform has been a strategy used by everyone from Andrew Jackson, to FDR, and the flailing Supreme Court. This is to say that our modern struggles are not new, but are indicative of a constitution that has never been taken as a living entity embodying a changing society, but one dependent on our interpretations of the sentiments of the founders. It is unable to adapt and transform on its own.
At face value it’s sufficiently, profoundly horrendous that we are using such a static document to govern what is in effect an entirely different world. When considering the inextricable relationship it has with the opinions of our Lords and Saviors it becomes quite nauseating. Of course we often do not consider this, and if we do it is generally through the lense of government propaganda about exactly who these men were. The general public has existed, or still exists, in a perpetual state of cognitive dissonance in which we worship caricatures of the framers such that we summon them to carry the torch of tradition while killing the authors as individuals when interpreting their work.
Take a moment to consider any of the famous founders and you likely picture the embodiment of rugged individualism, an undying unity, unmatched brilliance, and a deep benevolence capable of transcending humanity to build a nation “of the people”. Our monolithic characterization imbues each man with a strong spirit — one bent on liberty and freedom, a true enemy to the tyranny of England, while also aligning them with the average citizenry. I suppose if you consider sweating it out in wigs and overcoats while pontificating on exactly which rights would proect their interests without causing a riot, this could be true. Historical fact says otherwise, of course. We know from primary sources that they were not of one mind politically, or philosophically, and while they may not have shied away from ridiculous duels they were far from being colonists ruffing it in the vast North American landscape.
However, as we know, it is not enough to recognize that these men were not of the people. It’s too easy to state it as a given fact to be brushed aside that these men, predominantly, stemmed from or existed in a wealthy, classically educated, and traditionally patriarchal sphere. It is not enough to state that their world views were influenced and enhanced by membership to this exclusive club whose admission was allotted based not on virtue, or even skill, but rather sex, economic class (often inherited), and race. It will never be enough to consider their broader demographics and how this influenced our governing documents because we do not analyze them as individuals in any serious way.
The demand for the death of the authors(s), a mode of literary analysis that posits the personal intentions and biography should hold no sway over the interpretation, is particularly obscene. While this concept may work well for fictional literature, one cannot with reason say that the intent, race, religion, sex, or class of an author developing a political philoshopy, let alone an entire government, should not be given substantial weight when examining how those works are applied to the very people they are meant to govern. Politics are intrinsically personal and no one is exempt from their own biases or societal norms influencing their moral and philosophical identity. Perhaps in a properly diverse arena checks and balances are sufficient to create a semblance of fairness, but when a group is homogenous eyebrows should be raised. It’s far easier for individual self-interest to trump reason, when the individual self-interest of everyone in the room is inevitably linked by membership to the same shitty club.
So why then do we continue to decouple the individual founders from their collective work? Why do we ignore who they were as men, and how their surroundings or personal intent influenced our modern world?
George Washington inherited enslaved people at 10, and would go on to be a cruel man that went out of his way to ensure those he enslaved remained that way even as he became a symbol of American exceptionalism. Thomas Jefferson, a “man of the people” who was still hesitant to give them any real representation, became curator of enslaved children, and sexually abused a enslaved woman for years, with each child she was forced to carry becoming enslaved as well. Alexander Hamilton has been romanticized for his bootstrapping ways and complicated love affairs, but he was an elitist to his core who despised the unwashed masses. His disdain for the majority of the public meshed well with James Madison, both of them seemingly endlessly warning of the evils of the “tyranny of the majority”. Madison celebrated the sufficient differences (religion, ethnic origin, language, and race) that would keep the majority from effectively banding together to force change. Both men were coincidentally of the minority, those with majority social and economic power, making it no surprise that they present it as a moral precept to construct institutions in such a way as to maintain that minority protection. John Adams may have been a monarchist and classists, but at least he said the quiet part out loud — that the government was made to maintain the status quo.
Certainly the Continental Congress itself was comprised of men of varying political philosophies and interests. Some explored the question of women voting, some were morally opposed to enslavement, and some had a more egalitarian hope for the new country. Lovely ideas that went nowhere, but have provided enough plausable deniability for us to craft a benevolent image of the most famous of the founders.
It is of course clear as to why our patriotism, or American-ness is so wrapped up in this hero-worship, and why we are never taught to consider the men behind the curtain. There is a danger (to the oligarchs) in examining institutions through a lens of the intent and identity of the primary authors — it makes it far more difficult to wrap up the present, to justify any modern movement as following or honoring tradition. when tradition looks so sinister. We begin to ask questions that lead us to question the very foundation and viability of the nation.
Can a just society ever exist if the institutions and laws were built to protect the powerful at all costs? Can we move away from this farce of a representative republic when the idea that equal representation equates to mob rule is embedded in the fabric of our nation? What can become of a nation that is determined to claim their constitution and ideals bring freedom when they were constructed with disenfranchisement in mind by proud enslavers and their apologists? How can a country ever progress if it outright lies about the true nature of the founders?
Perhaps when we’ve successfully killed the gods by reminding everyone that they were merely men (questionable men at that), we can move forward. We can take what we have inherited, and begin to view everything in its own right. The Constitution, that golden ticket we so admire, may even become a living document capable of growing with us rather than slowly strangling us to death. If we do not we may end up repeating the history of that famed civilization so many admire.
Sparta became a spectacle, a fishbowl for tourists to marvel at a seemingly unchanged and harsh society. They existed so wholeheartedly in the myth that they perpetuated, the tradition (and Constitution!) they so heavily leaned on, that when it came time to change they were not capable of it.
They could not bend, so they snapped.
