Now that the discussion of patriotism and flag pins and hands over hearts while saluting has again taken the national stage, and the Rev. Wright has been excoriated in the press for suggesting that God might not care for the actions of our government, and Hillary and Bill Clinton seem to be linking themselves in the patriot contest to a man who can jokingly sing "Bomb Bomb Iran", I’d like to remind Kossaks of the plight of the original Americans, who are overlooked in our contentious discussions of "race", and share some thoughts about the "so-called patriotism" of John McCain and Hillary Clinton.
One of the of the most powerful songs I ever heard as a young person, which still sends chills up my spine was a different take on "America: My country tis of thee".
My County Tis of Thy People You're Dying, written and sung by Buffy Sainte-Marie
Now that your big eyes are finally opened.
Now that you're wondering, "How must they feel?"
Meaning them that you've chased cross America's movie screens;
Now that you're wondering, "How can it be real?"
That the ones you've called colorful, noble and proud
In your school propaganda,
They starve in their splendour.
You asked for our comment, I simply will render:
My country 'tis of thy people you're dying.
Now that the long houses "breed superstition"
You force us to send our children away
To your schools where they're taught to despise their traditions
Forbid them their languages;
Then further say that American history really began
When Columbus set sail out of Europe and stress
That the nations of leeches who conquered this land
Were the biggest, and bravest, and boldest, and best.
And yet where in your history books is the tale
Of the genocide basic to this country's birth?
Of the preachers who lied?
How the Bill of Rights failed?
How a nation of patriots returned to their earth?
And where will it tell of the Liberty Bell
As it rang with a thud over Kinzua mud?
Or of brave Unlce Sam in Alaska this year?
My country 'tis of thy people you're dying.
Hear how the bargain was made for West,
With her shivering children in zero degrees.
" Blankets for your land" - so the treaties attest.
Oh well, blankets for land, that's a bargain indeed.
And the blankets were those Uncle Sam had collected
From smallpox diseased dying soldiers that day.
And the tribes were wiped out
And the history books censored
A hundred years of your statesmen
say, "It's better this way".
But a few of the conquered have somehow survived
And their blood runs the redder
Though genes have been paled.
From the Grand Canyon's caverns
To Craven's sad hills
The wounded, the losers, the robbed sing their tale.
From Los Angeles County to upstate New York,
The white nation fattens while other grow lean.
Oh the tricked and evicted they know what I mean:
My country 'tis of thy people you're dying.
The past it just crumbled; the future just threatens
Our life blood is shut up in your chemical tanks,
And now here you come, bill of sale in your hand
And surprise in your eyes, that we're lacking in thanks
For the blessings of civilisation you brought us
The lessons you've taught us;
The ruin you've wrought us;
Oh see what our trust in America got us.
My country 'tis of thy people you're dying.
Now that the pride of the sires receives charity.
Now that we're harmless and safe behind laws.
Now that my life's to be known as your heritage.
Now that even the graves have been robbed.
Now that our own chosen way is your novelty.
Hands on our hearts
We salute you your victory:
Choke on your blue white and scarlet hypocrisy.
Pitying your blindness; How you never see -
that the eagles of war whose wings lent you glory,
Were never no more than buzzards & crows:
Pushed some wrens from their nest;
Stole their eggs; changed their story.
The mockingbird sings it;
It's all that she knows.
" Oh what can I do?", say a powerless few.
With a lump in your throat and a tear in your eye:
Can't you see how their poverty's profiting you?
My country 'tis of thy people you're dying.
My Country 'Tis of thy People You're Dying
I use this song each semester to introduce my university students to the concept of ethnocentrism, and have them deconstruct the symbolism, and then fact check Buffy’s assertions.
After hearing the song for the first time my student’s usually sit in shocked silence. They have been raised on the mythology of happy pilgrims breaking bread peacefully with Indians as part of annual Thanksgiving pagents, and somehow have never, or rarely heard tell of much the other side of our nation’s history.
They are familiar with Pete Seeger(shown in the video)only as an advocate for cleaning up the Hudson River here in NY on the sloop Clearwater and none have ever heard of Buffy St. Marie, nor do they know of the schools where Native American children were taken to be acculturated and rescued from "savagery."
I have them read a moving narrative called The Cutting of My Long Hair
from The School Days of an Indian Girl, Zitkala-Sa published in Atlantic Monthly,New York 1900
here is an excerpt:
The first day in the land of apples was a bitter-cold one; for the snow still covered the ground, and the trees were bare. A large bell rang for breakfast, its loud metallic voice crashing through the belfry overhead and into our sensitive ears. The annoying clatter of shoes on bare floors gave us no peace. The constant clash of harsh noises, with an undercurrent of many voices murmuring an unknown tongue, made a bedlam within which I was securely tied. And though my spirit tore itself in struggling for its lost freedom, all was useless.
A paleface woman, with white hair, came up after us. We were placed in a line of girls who were marching into the dining room. These were Indian girls, in stiff shoes and closely clinging dresses. The small girls wore sleeved aprons and shingled hair. As I walked noiselessly in my soft moccasins, I felt like sinking to the floor, for my blanket had been stripped from my shoulders. I looked hard at the Indian girls, who seemed not to care that they were even more immodestly dressed than I, in their tightly fitting clothes. While we marched in, the boys entered at an opposite door. I watched for the three young braves who came in our party. I spied them in the rear ranks, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.
...(snip)
But this eating by formula was not the hardest trial in that first day. Late in the morning, my friend Judewin gave me a terrible warning. Judewin knew a few words of English, and she had overheard the paleface woman talk about cutting our long, heavy hair. Our mothers had taught us that only unskilled warriors who were captured had their hair shingled by the enemy. Among our people, short hair was worn by mourners, and shingled hair by cowards!
We discussed our fate some moments, and when Judewin said, "We have to submit, because they are strong," I rebelled.
"No, I will not submit! I will struggle first!" I answered.
I watched my chance, and when no one noticed I disappeared. I crept up the stairs as quietly as I could in my squeaking shoes,- -my moccasins had been exchanged for shoes. Along the hall I passed, without knowing whither I was going. Turning aside to an open door, I found a large room with three white beds in it. The windows were covered with dark green curtains, which made the room very dim. Thankful that no one was there, I directed my steps toward the corner farthest from the door. On my hands and knees I crawled under the bed, and cuddled myself in the dark corner.
From my hiding place I peered out, shuddering with fear whenever I heard footsteps near by. Though in the hall loud voices were calling my name, and I knew that even Judewin was searching for me, I did not open my mouth to answer. Then the steps were quickened and the voices became excited. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Women and girls entered the room. I held my breath, and watched them open closet doors and peep behind large trunks. Some one threw up the curtains, and the room was filled with sudden light. What caused them to stoop and look under the bed I do not know. I remember being dragged out, though I resisted by kicking and scratching wildly. In spite of myself, I was carried downstairs and tied fast in a chair.
I cried aloud, shaking my head all the while until I felt the cold blades of the scissors against my neck, and heard them gnaw off one of my thick braids. Then I lost my spirit. Since the day I was taken from my mother I had suffered extreme indignities. People had stared at me. I had been tossed about in the air like a wooden puppet. And now my long hair was shingled like a coward's! In my anguish I moaned for my mother, but no one came to comfort me. Not a soul reasoned quietly with me, as my own mother used to do; for now I was only one of many little animals driven by a herder.
I have them read the history of schools like the Carlisle Indian School
, which are not just a stain but a black mark on our history.
I thought I would write about patriotism here today because while reading remarks here on DailyKos over the last few weeks, I was surprised how few of the diarists and commentators did not immediately understand the context of Rev. Wright’s remarks, but have since then begun to realize that most American’s have no idea about black churches and black preachers, and were simply reacting to the snippets on those endless televised loops without waiting, or even questioning this part of the kitchen sink strategy. Though that has changed here, now that more people have begun to dig deeper and look at his words in context, I was surprised at the number of commentor’s who shook their heads and said "well, Barack has distanced himself, but I still can’t agree with his (Wright’s )un-patriotic remarks."
My assumption is that many of the most recent negative comments are the work of golems and trolls, but am not familiar enough with DKos regulars to tell the difference, yet.
Native Americans, and their particular history are ignored for the most part, since they are not a significant voting block for any party to court. The Democratic Party is caught in a quandary about how to resolve the nomination without losing a significant power – the African-American vote, and how to enhance standing with Latinos/Hispanics, and nowhere will there be anyone advocating for our Real Americans; their numbers are too few, their voices have been silenced. Senator Obama does include them briefly in his remarks concerning bettering education. I wish that he would include them in his discussions of the Constitution, since
the Haudenosaunee Iroquois contributed to both the Constitution and the Bill of Rights.
In the days ahead, we need to be careful not to attempt to "out patriot "the right wing, but to have a discussion of how to discuss the stains on our history in the context of moving beyond the past and forging a more perfect union.
We can make the attempt to redefine patriotism. John McCain, the survivor of another unjust war, is somehow magically vested in the flag and all it symbolizes. And anyone who calls it into question is somehow anti-American. Excuse my strong words but this is bullshit with a capital B.
We need to begin to prepare for the battle ahead in the general election, because even if by some slim chance HRC steals the nomination (god forbid) the discourse will be geared toward his "patriotism" versus the Dem’s and we are going to get rerun’s of the same invective spewed or instigated by both campaigns – McCain’s and Hillary’s.
Though the recent remarks by General Tony McPeak’s re McCarthyism have been "disavowed", let us be very clear, that he is actually on target. Young people are far more aware these days of "Rovian" tactics, and "swiftboating" and what these strategies are. But they are rooted in the oppressive, vindictive period of witch-hunting in America and unfortunately few of us who remember those times are able to discuss them without raising the hue and cry about "commie-pinko-leftist-liberals" again.
There is no coincidence that Keith Olbermann uses as a coda to his nightly program "Good Night and Good Luck", evoking Edgar R Murrow, but how many folks actually remember Murrow’s shining hour on America’s stage, rejecting the vile "patriots" who were silencing the press, costing people their jobs, and ultimately costing some souls their lives.
Just as J. Edgar Hoover used COINTELPRO
to neutralize dissent, McCarthy went after those who dared to question what America should be.
Paul Robeson, appearing before HUAC made the remarks "You Are the Un-Americans, and You Ought to be Ashamed of Yourselves"
As a child I remember hearing Paul Robson sing the Ballad for Americans.
The style is probably quite foreign in today’s world of hip-hop and techno unless you are a devotee of American show tunes (which I am), but the content is still valid today.
Here are the original lyrics, and I found also on the web a set of "revised lyrics", which are quite compelling.
BALLAD FOR AMERICANS
Original Version)
(Music: Earl Robinson / Words: John LaTouche)
In seventy-six the sky was red
thunder rumbling overhead
Bad King George couldn't sleep in his bed
And on that stormy morn, Ol' Uncle Sam was born.
Some birthday!
Ol' Sam put on a three cornered hat
And in a Richmond church he sat
And Patrick Henry told him that while America drew breath
It was "Liberty or death."
What kind of hat is a three-cornered hat?
Did they all believe in liberty in those days?
Nobody who was anybody believed it.
Ev'rybody who was anybody they doubted it.
Nobody had faith.
Nobody but Washington, Tom Paine, Benjamin Franklin,
Chaim Solomon, Crispus Attucks, Lafayette. Nobodies.
The nobodies ran a tea party at Boston. Betsy Ross
organized a sewing circle. Paul Revere had a horse race.
And a little ragged group believed it.
And some gentlemen and ladies believed it.
And some wise men and some fools, and I believed it too.
And you know who I am.
No. Who are you mister? Yeah, how come all this?
Well, I'll tell you. It's like this... No let us tell you.
Mister Tom Jefferson, a mighty fine man.
He wrote it down in a mighty fine plan.
And the rest all signed it with a mighty fine hand
As they crossed their T's and dotted their I's
A bran' new country did arise.
And a mighty fine idea. "Adopted unanimously in Congress July 4, 1776,
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created
equal.
That they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable
rights.
That among these rights are Life, Yes sir!, Liberty, That's right!
And the pursuit of happiness."
Is that what they said? The very words.
That does sound mighty fine.
Building a nation is awful tough.
The people found the going rough.
Still nobody who was anybody believed it.
Everybody who anybody they stayed at home.
But Lewis and Clarke and the pioneers,
Driven by hunger, haunted by fears,
The Klondike miners and the forty-niners,
Some wanted freedom and some wanted riches,
Some liked to loaf while others dug ditches.
But they believed it. And I believed it too,
And you know who I am.
No, who are you anyway, Mister?
Well, you see it's like this. I started to tell you.
I represent the whole... Why that's it!
Let my people go. That's the idea!
Old Abe Lincoln was thin and long,
His heart was high and his faith was strong.
But he hated oppression, he hated wrong,
And he went down to his grave to free the slave.
A man in white skin can never be free while his black brother is in
slavery,
"And we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in
vain.
And this government of the people, by the people and for the people
Shall not perish from the Earth."
Abraham Lincoln said that on November 19, 1863 at Gettysburg,
Pennsylvania.
And he was right. I believe that too.
Say, we still don't know who you are, mister.
Well, I started to tell you...
The machine age came with a great big roar,
As America grew in peace and war.
And a million wheels went around and 'round.
The cities reached into the sky,
And dug down deep into the ground.
And some got rich and some got poor.
But the people carried through,
So our country grew.
Still nobody who was anybody believed it.
Everybody who was anybody they doubted it.
And they are doubting still,
And I guess they always will,
But who cares what they say when I am on my way
Say, will you please tell us who you are?
What's your name, Buddy? Where you goin'? Who are you?
Well, I'm the everybody who's nobody,
I'm the nobody who's everybody.
What's your racket? What do you do for a living?
Well, I'm an
Engineer, musician, street cleaner, carpenter, teacher,
How about a farmer? Also. Office clerk? Yes sir!
That's right. Certainly!
Factory worker? You said it. Yes ma'am.
Absotively! Posolutely!
Truck driver? Definitely!
Miner, seamstress, ditchdigger, all of them.
I am the "etceteras" and the "and so forths" that do the work.
Now hold on here, what are you trying to give us?
Are you an American?
Am I an American?
I'm just an Irish, Jewish, Italian,
French and English, Spanish, Russian, Chinese, Polish,
Scotch, Hungarian, Swedish, Finnish, Greek and Turk and Czech
And that ain't all.
I was baptized Baptist, Methodist, Congregationalist, Lutheran,
Atheist, Roman Catholic, Jewish, Presbyterian, Seventh Day Adventist,
Mormon, Quaker, Christian Scientist and lots more.
You sure are something.
Our country's strong, our country's young,
And her greatest songs are still unsung.
From her plains and mountains we have sprung,
To keep the faith with those who went before.
We nobodies who are anybody believe it.
We anybodies who are everybody have no doubts.
Out of the cheating, out of the shouting.
Deep as our valleys,
High as our mountains,
Strong as the people who made it.
For I have always believed it, and I believe it now,
And now you know who I am.
Who are you?
America! America!
and the revised and updated version found on the same page:
BALLAD FOR AMERICANS
(Music : Earl Robinson / Words : John LaTouche)
Traditional (Revised by NYC Labor Chorus)
(lyric revisions are indicated by parentheses)
In seventy-six the sky was red
thunder rumbling overhead
Bad King George couldn't sleep in his bed
And on that stormy morn, Ol' Uncle Sam was born.
Some birthday!
Ol' Sam put on a three cornered hat
And in a Richmond church he sat
And Patrick Henry told him that while America drew breath
It was "Liberty or death."
What kind of hat is a three-cornered hat?
Did they all believe in liberty in those days?
Nobody who was anybody believed it.
Ev'rybody who was anybody they doubted it.
Nobody had faith.
Nobody but Washington, Tom Paine, Benjamin Franklin,
Chaim Solomon, Crispus Attucks, Lafayette. Nobodies.
The nobodies ran a trea party at Boston. Betsy Ross
organized a sewing circle. Paul Revere had a horse race.
And a little ragged group believed it.
And some gentlemen and ladies believed it.
And some wise men and some fools, and I believed it too.
And you know who I am.
No. Who are you mister? Yeah, how come all this?
Well, I'll tell you. It's like this... No let us tell you.
Mister Tom Jefferson, a mighty fine man.
He wrote it down in a mighty fine plan.
And the rest all signed it with a mighty fine hand
As they crossed their T's and dotted their I's
A bran' new country did arise.
And a mighty fine idea. "Adopted unanimously in Congress July 4, 1776,
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.
That they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights.
That among these rights are Life, Yes sir!, Liberty, That's right!
And the pursuit of happiness."
Is that what they said? The very words.
That does sound mighty fine.
Building a nation is awful tough.
The people found the going rough.
(Some lived in cities, some worked the land,
And united they did stand, to make our country grand.)
Still nobody who was anybody believed it.
Everybody who anybody they stayed at home.
But Lewis and Clarke and the pioneers,
Driven by hunger, haunted by fears,
The Klondike miners and the forty-niners,
Some wanted freedom and some wanted riches,
Some liked to loaf while others dug ditches.
But they believed it. And I believed it too,
And you know who I am.
No, who are you anyway, Mister?
Well, you see it's like this. I started to tell you.
I represent the whole... Why that's it!
Let my people go. That's the idea!
Old Abe Lincoln was thin and long,
His heart was high and his faith was strong.
But he hated oppression, he hated wrong,
And he went down to his grave to free the slave.
A man in white skin can never be free while his black brother is in slavery,
"And we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.
And this government of the people, by the people and for the people
Shall not perish from the Earth."
Abraham Lincoln said that on November 19, 1863 at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
And he was right. I believe that too.
Say, we still don't know who you are, mister.
Well, I started to tell you...
The machine age came with a great big roar,
As America grew in peace and war.
And a million wheels went around and 'round.
The cities reached into the sky,
And dug down deep into the ground.
And some got rich and some got poor.
But the people carried through,
So our country grew.
(With Susan B. Anthony and the Suffragettes,
We women fought with all our might
And we made voting our right.
Our struggle continues to this day.
And the people carried through,
So our country grew.)
Still nobody who was anybody believed it.
Everybody who was anybody they doubted it.
And they are doubting still,
And I guess they always will,
But who cares what they say when I am on my way
Say, will you please tell us who you are?
What's your name, Buddy? Where you goin'? Who are you?
Well, I'm the everybody who's nobody,
I'm the nobody who's everybody.
What's your racket? What do you do for a living?
Well, I'm an
Engineer, musician, street cleaner, carpenter, teacher,
How about a farmer? Also. Office clerk? Yes sir!
That's right. (Homemaker?) Certainly!
Factory worker? You said it. (Mail carrier?) Yes ma'am.
(Hospital worker?) Absotively! (Social worker?) Posolutely!
Truck driver? Definitely!
Miner, seamstress, ditchdigger, all of them.
I am the "etceteras" and the "and so forths" that do the work.
Now hold on here, what are you trying to give us?
Are you an American?
Am I an American?
I'm just an Irish, (African), Jewish, Italian,
French and English, Spanish, Russian, Chinese, Polish,
Scotch, Hungarian, (Jamaican), Swedish, Finnish, (Dominican), Greek and Turk and Czech
and (Native American).
And that ain't all.
I was baptized Baptist, Methodist, Congregationalist, Lutheran,
Atheist, Roman Catholic, (Moslem) Jewish, Presbyterian, Seventh Day Adventist,
Mormon, Quaker, Christian Scientist and lots more.
You sure are something.
Our country's strong, our country's young,
And her greatest songs are still unsung.
>From her plains and mountains we have sprung,
To keep the faith with those who went before.
We nobodies who are anybody believe it.
We anybodies who are everybody have no doubts.
Out of the cheating, out of the shouting,
(Out of the greed and polluting,
Out of the massacre at Wounded Knee,
Out of the lies of McCarthy,
Out of the murders of Martin and John,
It will come again,
Our song of hope is here again.)
(Precious as our planet),
Deep as our valleys,
High as our mountains,
Strong as the people who made it.
For I have always believed it, and I believe it now,
And now you know who I am.
Who are you?
America! America!
So let us now come together to prepare a manifesto for the days ahead, and construct for ourselves a methodology, strategy and tactics which clarifies that love for our country does not mean we are blind to its flaws, but does reflect a deep abiding commitment to make it better.
My ancestors built this country, my ancestors fought and died in every war, my ancestors came from Africa, Europe, and were Kanien’Kahake (Mohawk). I defy anyone to say I am not American.
I am red, white and blue, black, brown and yellow too