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 riting
in the San
Francisco Chronicle, Barbara Kingsolver joins the chorus
of pseudo-literati who just can't stomach America's response to
the September Massacre. "Patriotism," she complains, "seems
to be falling to whoever claims it loudest, and we're left struggling
to find a definition in a clamor of reaction. This is what I'm hearing...
Patriotism threatens free speech with death. It is infuriated by
thoughtful hesitation, constructive criticism of our leaders and
pleas for peace. It despises people of foreign birth who've spent
years learning our culture and contributing their talents to our
economy. It has specifically blamed homosexuals, feminists and the
American Civil Liberties Union. In other words, the American flag
stands for intimidation, censorship, violence, bigotry, sexism,
homophobia, and shoving the Constitution through a paper shredder?
Who are we calling terrorists here?"
There seems
little point in rebutting such a stream of poisonous nonsense. Ms.
Kingsolver — who has made a career writing novels about the
perfidy and cruelty of the U.S. government, (male) Christian missionaries
in Africa, and men in general — never bothers to tell us who,
exactly, has "threatened free speech with death" (even
Kumbaya Watch doesn't go that far), or attacked "people
of foreign birth," or advocated "shoving the Constitution
through a paper shredder." Nor does she explain why the unfortunate,
hastily retracted, and widely condemned comments of Messrs. Falwell
and Robertson, in which they blamed the tragedy on gays, feminists,
and the ACLU, should be taken to accurately represent the national
mood. "This is what I'm hearing," she insists. No doubt.
But it's easy to hear incipient fascism — if it's the only
thing you're listening for.
Her despicable
distortions aside, however, we should spare a moment's pity for
Barbara Kingsolver. This is a woman so preconditioned to fear, and
so paranoid, that when her daughter announces that her schoolmates
will all be wearing red, white, and blue to commemorate the victims,
she hears "the sound of saber-rattling" and feels "dread
that not just my taxes but even my children are being dragged to
the cause of death in the wake of death." (Her daughter, one
might add, is in kindergarten.) This is a woman for whom
every argument for patriotism prompts the automatic rejoinder: "That
kind of thinking let fascism grow out of the international depression
of the 1930s." Her America is a dark and brutal place, a country
one step away from authoritarianism, inhabited solely by xenophobes
and bigots, proto-Nazis, and aspiring storm troopers. And however
healthy and wealthy and successful she may become, she can never
truly enjoy it — because the jackboots are always sounding
on the street, and the Gestapo is always at the door. Frankly, it's
amazing the poor woman can summon up the courage to leave her own
home.
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