Those who read me know I never miss an opportunity to celebrate. I don’t need a grand excuse. If my favorite team wins, it’s time to celebrate. If they lose, it’s time to celebrate so I can forget. If my girlfriend loves me, it’s a celebration of love. If she doesn’t, it’s a celebration to find another one. If I land a job, let the rum flow. If I lose it, I’ll need even more rum, please. And then there’s summer, which I spend from June 30 through September 15 hopping from one celebration to the next because, I can’t help it, it’s in my Spanish DNA.
In my own pantheon of obsessions, this Fourth of July I will celebrate John Wayne, The Blues Brothers, long, heavy American cars, and six-story hamburgers.
Even so, every year I celebrate two national holidays with particular affection: Spain’s, because it’s mine, and the Fourth of July, because in some small way it feels like mine too, because it’s my friends’ holiday, and because, after all, in these dark days of history, the United States still stands as the beacon of the West — of liberty, goodness, and the traditional values that once allowed all of us to flourish, and which corrupt institutions like the EU and globalist elites have spent decades trying to undermine. The United States has been under siege to follow the same path, but unlike Europe, it has not fallen. Honor — and smoky barbecues.
Of all the things I admire about the American people, besides the loud cars and the giant ice cubes in their whiskey, what fascinates me most is their sense of nationhood, the healthy pride of belonging to the same country. In difficult times, we understand the importance of symbols more clearly. For a nation, it’s the flag. On the street, it’s the sign that reads, “High Voltage. Danger of Death.” It’s wise to understand them before it’s too late.
Patriotism is not a prison that makes everyone the same. We are not all the same. Nor do those of us who belong to the same nation think alike. Thank God for that. How boring life would be otherwise. Who would we argue with over trivialities? What excitement would an election campaign hold? How could I compile my annual list of fools for The American Spectator? Patriotism unites us in something deeper, just as brothers and sisters remain family because they share the same parents.
Much has been written about the polarization brought about by Trumpism. My sense is that, at this point in Trump’s presidency, the national celebration he is promoting is far more universal and welcoming than any we experienced under Democratic presidents in recent years. Here, differences are not exalted, minorities are not elevated above majorities, and the message is not one of grievance, social injustice, and division. This Fourth of July is about celebrating the nation and everything that unites the children of the same country. Today is not the day to dwell on what separates them.
Nor is this just any Independence Day. This year marks the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States. Christians throughout the West turn their eyes to the Good Lord today and give thanks for the many blessings the most important nation in the contemporary West has given us. In January, Trump proclaimed July 4 National Patriotic Devotion Day, “to strengthen our bonds to one another and to our country, and to renew the duties of government to the people.” That is the key to everything. Government has duties to the people before the people have duties to the government.
Meanwhile, the left-wing press is filling its pages with claims that America is more divided than ever because of Trump’s polarization. That is false, but they believe they can win the narrative simply by repeating the same nonsense often enough. And perhaps they can. But any victory built on falsehood is a Pyrrhic one: “One more victory over the Romans and we are completely done for!.” I would be ashamed to win the battle for public opinion that way.
In my own pantheon of obsessions, this Fourth of July I will celebrate John Wayne, The Blues Brothers, long, heavy American cars, and six-story hamburgers. I will celebrate individual liberty, private property, and the disciple and the master: P. J. O’Rourke and H. L. Mencken. I will celebrate the beauty of Ava Gardner, Sydney Sweeney, and Scarlett Johansson. I will celebrate Coca-Cola, the internet, and low taxes. I will celebrate Trumpism, Ronald Reagan, Russell Kirk, and William F. Buckley Jr. I will celebrate The Big Lebowski, the entire filmography of James Stewart, and the Rolling Stones. I will celebrate Billy Wilder, Walter Matthau, Pierce Brosnan, and The A-Team. I will celebrate Cormac McCarthy, the films of John Ford and Frank Capra, and the humor of Dave Barry. I will celebrate the Statue of Liberty, movie-style car chases through Chicago, and the American people united after the attacks of September 11. I will celebrate the American Dream, the welcoming nation where anyone with talent can succeed, and that brilliant, satirical way Americans have of understanding politics. And I will celebrate, of course, The American Spectator, which, in part, is what I have become: a Spanish spectator granted the privilege of observing and closely examining the glory, the life, the tensions, and the controversies of the great American stage.
And now, if you would be so kind, throw a giant hamburger on the grill, crack open the coldest bottle of beer, and don’t forget to raise a toast for me.
Dear friends and readers: Happy Fourth of July! And God bless the land of the free.
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