Happy 250th!
I’m at the New Jersey shore with family and friends, where we’ve spent this Fourth of July eating hot dogs, playing miniature golf, and wading into the ocean that my great-grandparents crossed to escape calamities they knew about and much greater calamities that they didn’t. Tonight we’ll see the fireworks, weather permitting.
And yes, on the crowded beach today you can find people sporting MAGA and “45-47” hats, and even a giant “Trump 2028” flag—a stark reminder of the millions who would redefine the meaning of our 250-year-old experiment to something dark and authoritarian, the opposite of what its founders intended. Of course, those forces find mirror images on the left end of the political spectrum, where one can find millions more who fully agree with MAGA about the failures of liberalism and the Enlightenment, differing only on the secondary question of which racist thugs should rule instead.
Despite everything, I don’t believe that both factions together constitute a majority. Even on the beach, the MAGA hats are vastly outnumbered by “250” banners and girls in stars-and-stripes bikinis, American who just want to celebrate.
Despite everything, I remain thoroughly American if I’ve ever been anything, and invested in the country’s future if I’ve ever been invested in anything.
JD Vance and his friends, who might rule the country after the predictable failure of “Trump 2028,” make a huge deal about “Heritage Americans.” Of course the point of such phrases is to exclude those like me, and recent immigrants, and even (incredibly) JD’s own wife. On reflection, though: could I, too, count as a Heritage American at this point? After all, my family has now been here for half the country’s history. My grandfather, who grew up in poverty, became a professional boxer in Philadelphia and Atlantic City during the Great Depression. He then joined the Army and ended up clearing German mines in North Africa and Italy in WWII. He was assigned to a company of Southerners, who had never met a Jew and were shocked that my grandfather didn’t have horns—but by the war’s end, my grandfather and the relatively few others in his company who remained alive had become best friends. My grandfather told me that he could understand the German POWs who they captured tolerably well, since German was similar enough to Yiddish, but who he could never understand was the British.
As for me, I grew up in the town of Washington Crossing, PA, maybe a mile’s walk from where this happened (and where it’s still reenacted every Christmas):
My earliest childhood hero (that I can remember) was Ben Franklin, whose institute in Philadelphia I visited often. I didn’t even recognize as usual at the time how the founding of the country didn’t seem like a remote abstraction to me, but was all around me, the air I breathed.
That the founders of the United States created the model for all time, of how to bend the arc of human history a little bit away from its usual horribleness, of how to overthrow a despotism without instituting an even worse despotism in its place, of how to found a new civilization on ideas and principles rather than raw power … is one of those things that seemed true to me as a child and that still seems true to me today.
May this greatest experiment continue for another 250 years. May it triumph against all those within and without who would see it destroyed.
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