As a child, I covered my heart each day at school and recited the Pledge of Allegiance. (After so many repetitions, it can still spill from my lips without thought.) Like classes all over the country, we faced the flag and repeated words that became more meaningful to me with every adult year: ” … and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
One thing I didn’t understand at the time was that my freedom to repeat the Pledge or refuse to say it had been guaranteed by “the Republic for which it stands.” In the 1930s. the Supreme Court found that the Constitution’s First Amendment supported members of the Jehovah’s Witnesses who challenged the public school requirement to recite the Pledge and salute the flag, which they saw as a form of worship that should be reserved for God. The court declared that silence in the face of the group flag-salute was protected free speech. The same amendment prohibits “an establishment of religion” and continues to spark debates about the 1954 inclusion of the words “under God,” pushed by President Eisenhower to distinguish the U.S. from communist countries.
As I’ve often said, free speech means that everyone is entitled to their own stupid opinion, including me, and I’ve voiced many that some consider eminently qualified for the adjective. But I’ve never been arrested by the government directly because of them (although one preemptive arrest to keep peace on a college campus was borderline).
The privilege of being able to express unpopular opinions without legal consequences was hammered home by the last midterm election. Many candidates throughout the country (and an ex-president) chose divisive, hateful messages they either believed in or thought were a way to win votes. I had to constantly remind myself that they had a right to express those opinions, as long as they weren’t false statements of fact (very common today), incitements to immediate violence or crimes, or a few other categories of speech (https://bit.ly/2MvI4e8).
But the American people generally rejected the extremists who supported a continued attack on “the Republic” and their constant chorus of grievance. As a Globe opinion writer suggested, winning in America’s 2022 election required showing at least some belief in the “pinions [basic systems] of democracy.”
Another privilege of democracy appeared on ballots in 37 states: petitions and initiatives that voters could decide on directly, rather than through an elected representative. The Massachusetts Legislature has a sketchy history on following these mandates (they refused to fund a public financing requirement for campaigns passed in 1998), but voters voiced their opinions on such varied subjects as a millionaire’s tax, requirements for dental insurance companies, and noncitizen driver’s licenses.
On Veterans Day, we honored soldiers of all colors, races, and religions who fought and died for the privileges afforded by the American dream of a strong, diverse, and free country. Painfully, we accept the right of others to speak views we strongly oppose, and try to find a uniquely American way forward.
But the joy of democracy doesn’t come from one election cycle or a sudden turn to the right or left. Instead, it is kindled by the realization that our system of government is one of hope and possibility, even as imperfect as it has been for almost 250 years.
Our founding documents are filled with inspirational words. The Preamble to the Constitution states that as a united group we seek “a more perfect union” that establishes “justice” and “the blessings of liberty.” The Declaration of Independence suggests that we are attempting to form a government in which “all men are created equal” and the Pledge describes our goal as “liberty and justice for all.”
In today’s business world, these aspirations might be termed a “mission statement:” symbolic rather than specific, recommendations rather than regulations, hopeful dreams rather than descriptions of reality. We have so far to go, dreaming of steps forward, mourning and fighting against reversals. But after the last election, I am hopeful that we can advance towards one nation, indivisible, seeking liberty and justice for all.
If we can set our worst fears aside (for at least a couple of years), we may be able to engage with others to once again build bridges instead of walls, open our arms instead of closing doors, embrace our magnificent country rather than attack its foundations.
Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com.