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The Free Person's Pledge by Jason Kirk Exclusive to STR October 31, 2007 I
pledge allegiance to the flag of the
Pledging
allegiance to the flag always bothered me, as far back as grade school.
There's the obvious paranoia stuff, about young people being compelled by
law to attend and by routine to pledge to institution-established symbols;
that picture above is opportunistic and coincidental, but perfect. But
let's pretend we're in need of a daily collective pledge. Can't we come up
with a better one? Let's
edit it down a little bit, for starters.
The Constitution is what it is, but you'd like to hope that state
liturgy would at least conform to it, if only so we know what we're in
for. I mean, something about children being asked by the government to
declare their allegiance to a state personally ruled by God sounds
possibly a smidge borderline regarding the issue of "respecting an
establishment of religion," but, I don't know, it's iffy. Maybe we
ought to think about figuring out if maybe that phrase was pushing it a
little bit. Kind of a gray area when the government promises to never
infringe on the individual's religious freedom and then asks youth to
swear lifelong loyalty to God's country, but we'll keep pondering it. So
there's two words any idiot could snap off without blinking. Besides, it
was initially added, as a tribute to Pharaoh Lincoln's imperialism, by
international meddler Dwight Eisenhower, who also once used war prisoners
as slave labor. What's next? The
pledge was adopted in 1892. The contemporary state of the union: the War
of Southern Rebellion had recently ended, federal dominion over
segregation was blossoming, the addition of new dependent territory in the
“One
nation." Yep. This statement actually isn't obvious enough, and could
use more words. Where is this nation? Which continent, hemisphere, and
planet? Are you sure it shouldn't be, "one nation, and not two, but
more than zero, without any remainders, and it's not rounded down, it's
just one?" This one is really stupid. Five. And
the part where it clarifies which flag it is, “of the Here's
where we get down to business. "And to the Republic, for which it
stands." The thing about symbols is they only mean what people
understand them to mean. No human can declare that a rose stands for love
and impose that as a law of nature forever; over time, many humans in
cultures such as ours have just come to agree that roses are a good symbol
for love, due to the flower's beauty, fragility, and hidden danger. I'm
sure there's some part of the world where roses stand for something
extremely unlovely. The swastika was literally an almost eerily worldwide
and ancient symbol of eternal peace, until somebody got a little carried
away. So for a state to declare for its people what its symbol stands for
is pissing in the wind, at best. This is not just because a corporation
such as a nation can easily get a symbol wrong, as the "two snakes
coiling a winged rod" logo that medical organizations use attests to.
The two snakes, assumed to reference Moses' healing staff, actually
belonged to Hermes, Consider
the whole point of a symbol. It's an encapsulation, of an idea, that
exists as both itself The
quickest way to solve this redundancy is to eliminate the less effective
word. Flag or Republic? Which one goes? I, for one, would rather not
pledge everlasting fealty to a government, let alone one that, I mean,
good God, where do you start? So, strangely, I will not promise my undying
loyalty to any government composed of humans; the worst people of all time
were all, in fact, humans in charge of government. So, no Republic. Now
we've got it down to (1) the flag, and (2) liberty and justice for all,
which sounds like what the flag is intended to symbolize, so it at least
works, but it's wordy. We
all like to pledge to things. People get tattoos, marry each other, name
their dogs after dead relatives, write their names on walls in foreign
cities they'll only see once, trade gifts during rituals, and so on.
Whether due primarily to fears of mortality, insecurity about the
individual's small place in the world, or what have you, we like to attach
ourselves to things that will either outlast us or carry part of us beyond
ourselves, like a spider fixing its web to as many sturdy points as
possible, in hopes it holds. It's about ownership; people want to own
parts of and be owned by parts of things around them, making tiny, often
unspoken, contracts with certain chosen others. That impulsive need to
establish durable connections has often manifested in, among other things,
patriotism, or the placing of a nation's ideals above the individual's,
which gives the individual something to belong to and something to be
proud of. States fear abandonment too, and foster patriotism any way they
can, by doing things like adopting standard pledges so people don't even
have to come up with their own. But
a marriage only works if both sides understand that if they don't live up
to expectations, the other party can dissolve the union. Every contract
has stipulations; we don't just enter arrangements because we're desperate
to. I didn't just marry Emily, I married her love and creativity and
beauty and bizarre shoes and absurd humor and pretty singing. I don't love
"I pledge allegiance to liberty and justice for all." What better resolution to daily swear? Jason
Kirk blogs at Mutiny Baby and is working on his debut
collection of short fiction.
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