To Kukathas
State power to do harm must be diminished, certainly. But though the state does a great deal of harm when it is powerful and self-confident, the state as such is a necessity. Call it the lesser and necessary evil: without it there would be an extent and depth of insecurity that would make life terrible and brief. The hope is that moderation of spirit can recurrently chasten the power and self-confidence of the state so that the state does not feel that a reservoir of patriotism will always support its adventures, and either drown out criticism of its deeds or lead that criticism to go just so far and then draw back out of fear of being thought unpatriotic. Patriotism does not encourage moderation; even moderate patriotism does not encourage the will to seek peace, when armed strength is gigantic. Yes, the state is evil, but it is not only evil; it does, shall we say, the amount of good it feels it must do lest it forfeit allegiance. One hope is that the state does not do more evil abroad than it prevents at home.
To Berns
I ask the Kantian question: what would the world be like if no one in it were a patriot? If there hadn’t been German patriots, American patriots would not have had to exist. War isn’t like baseball: if there weren’t fans who rooted for, say, the Yankees and the Red Sox, there would be no baseball – at least, baseball would lack excitement. You need partisanship and partiality to turn the great wheel of the world; but we don’t need patriotism and what patriotism makes possible: bloody wars.
To Galston
I don’t want purity; I said I’m not a pacifist. I argue for the moral permissibility of self-defense. Self-defense, however, is rarely the issue in international politics. When it is, patriotism is unnecessary: you don’t need a false incentive to fight for palpable goods. Deterrence against future attacks on American soil by religious radicals was damaged, not improved, by the aggressive war against Iraq. In any case, easy discourse about good or just wars tends to overlook or make small the immense costs of armed struggle. The cost of things – that is my theme, the burden of my argument against patriotism (and other enthusiasms).
Read: Parting Shots
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Discussions of this sort are more likely to end in clarification of differences than in agreement. In his latest post, for example, Kateb says that “Love of country that expresses itself in killing and dying is not love at all, but some fantastic delusion.” I cannot believe that Kateb really means the full sweep of this declaration. Suppose one’s country is attacked and thousands of fellow-citizens die. Is everything done in response an expression of delusion? Not at all: some reactions are necessary and justified; others are excessive and illegitimate. I favored retaliation against the Taliban, which asked some Americans to kill and die for their country, and vociferously opposed our invasion of Iraq. My distinction between moderate and extreme patriotism tracks this difference. I can only conclude that Kateb rejects this distinction. For him, patriotism is the night in which all cows are black.
Or consider this statement: “In the United States, patriotism and the Constitution are engaged in a permanent civil war against each other.” Here Kateb elides the paradox that he urges us to “live with” in his longer essay on patriotism. Yes, patriotism can lead, has led, to serious breaches of the Constitution. The internment of Japanese-American during World War Two is an enduring blot on our legal order. But it is equally true that without patriotism we would have no Constitution; the nation it imperfectly constituted would have died a century and a half ago.
Lurking behind Kateb’s critique of patriotism is the longing for an almost Kantian moral purity in politics. I take my stand with Max Weber, with the ethic of responsibility that embraces the necessary moral costs of maintaining our collective existence. For as Kateb knows full well, it is only within political community that citizens can hope to practice the ordinary morality we both cherish.
Read: Final Thoughts on Patriotism
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Would the world be better off if no one were a patriot — as Professor Kateb suggests? Even in the United States in 1941-45? On one reading of Kateb’s analysis, the answer must be yes. If no one in the world were a patriot, there would, presumably, be no one wanting to fight for his country and so no one for anyone in the United States 1941-45 to fight against. We only need patriots to fight other patriots.
Unhappily, if patriots did not exist, the state would be forced to invent them. And then, even more unhappily, we might just need them after all.
And that, I believe, is why whiskey was invented.
Read: Last Post from a Whiskey Patriot
* * *
I think that I can now declare victory and, so to speak, go home. Professor Kateb now rests his case by making my argument. He says, as if I had said, patriotism’s “most important meaning is that unreserved loyalty to one’s country in a time of war — whatever one’s country is — is to be expected and praised.”
But this is not, and was not, my point. Instead, I said in my essay — and repeated in my first response — that patriotism deserves to be “praised or fostered only in the case of a country that deserves to be loved.” And I added that not all countries deserve to be loved. Thus, I faulted him for not making that distinction, which he now insists has to be made.
Unfortunately, in his closing statement, he reverts to his faulty ways. He suggests that the world would be better off “if no one were a patriot.” Really? No one in the northern states in 1861-65? And no one in the United States in 1941-45?
Read: Declaring Victory
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Professor Kateb and I seem to be caught up in a game of chicken, each trying to outdo the other in his disdain for patriotism. As an Australian, all I can say is, I think Australians are better anti-patriots than Americans.
The more serious question, however, is what comes first: patriotism or the (warring) state? The egg or the chicken? In evolutionary biology, the chicken comes from the egg, which came from an earlier kind of chicken: the two evolved together. In political theory, the conclusion surely must be that patriotism and the state also evolved together, their being, if not impossible without one another, at least mutually reinforcing. George Kateb is worried about the patriot egg; I think he should be at least as worried about the chicken.
Like Professor Kateb, I am not an enthusiast for the group. But some groups are more troubling than others and need to be diminished. The state is such a group and I reserve my sternest criticisms for it. I dare Professor Kateb to join me.
Read: Patriot Games
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To Professor Galston
(1) & (2) I’m certainly not going to quarrel with Galston about his love of his son. I emphasized that love of one’s own, when it takes a political form, is “a peculiarly virulent expansion of self-love.” We don’t have to feel guilty about the extended narcissism that Freud saw in all relations of love. There would be no adherence to persons without it. The terrible thing is to adhere to figments of the imagination, to abstract entities, to masses of tens of millions of people whom one doesn’t know, with the same single-heartedness that one feels towards the identifiable persons one loves. Love for a child or partner or friend is essential to a human life. But love of country that expresses itself in killing and dying is not love at all, but some fantastic delusion; or more moderately, an unexamined ideological commitment. In both cases, terrible results must ensue, and do.
(3) If one cares about the doing the right thing, one cares about doing the right thing for its own sake and not because the right thing happens to coincide with devotion to one’s country. To try to correct one’s country “when it goes astray” is an impossible task for any one person. It can be done only by a massive and lengthy cooperative effort, if it can be done at all. But to consider the American war in Vietnam or Iraq as merely going “astray” is to speak an unacceptable euphemism. These wars are not blemishes, but purposive imperialistic policies that grow out of the very nature of the political-economic system, and in defiance of the high moral principles embodied in the US Constitution. Great rules and procedures can, unfortunately, accommodate political policies that vitiate the spirit of the laws. Patriotic support of these policies helped make them possible. In the United States, patriotism and the Constitution are engaged in a permanent civil war against each other.
(4) Yes, Nazism was purely evil. But the millions who fought for evil, killed and died for it, were not themselves evil. These millions weren’t Nazis. Most of them were only good German patriots.
Read: A Peculiarly Virulent Expression of Self-Love
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To Professor Berns
I have been trying to suggest that patriotism is a feeling that is at the disposal of all countries, no matter what cause they pursue by means of war. Patriotism cannot be a principle of conduct because it is without any inherent moral commitment. Its most important meaning is that unreserved loyalty to one’s country in time of war — whatever one’s country is — is to be expected and praised. In U.S. history, it took the Northern states four years to defeat the Confederacy because, in part, Southern patriotism for the Confederacy was, if anything, stronger than that of the North for the Union. How we can defend patriotism just for the side we’re on or even the side that we think is morally superior? It’s not in our power to distribute patriotism as we please. I’m as happy as Berns that the U.S. and its allies defeated Germany and Japan in World War II. But we mustn’t forget the enormous strength that patriotism gave these two enemies.
If we imagine the inwardness of patriots on all sides, what’s the difference between them? They’re all patriots who want to be patriotic; they’re inwardly all on the same level. It’s luck that happens to put a person on the morally right side. On the other hand, devotion to the right, not to one’s side just because it is one’s side, shows fidelity to a higher standard. The world is full of patriots, but wouldn’t it be better off if no one were a patriot?
To Professor Kukathas
I of course don’t think that patriotism is the only cause of war and international coercion. I say, rather, that elites know from the start that once a country is involved in war, no matter for what reason, the great majority will rally behind the government. Elites are emboldened to do what they otherwise would not imagine doing. The historical record gives many examples. Think of the how the German labor movement fought so bravely for the German government in World War I, and how, at the start, the parliamentary representatives of that movement, against their better instincts, voted to grant the government war credits. Think of how the strong isolationist movement in the U.S. in the 1930’s became instantly patriotic after Pearl Harbor, even though some citizens knew beforehand that FDR was making economic life untenable for the Japanese and that he meant to involve the U.S. in a global conflict eventually and was waiting for his opportunity. Whether people are successfully duped or fully attentive to what is going on, they will patriotically support a government in time of war. That fact is known to elites; their knowledge of basic human behavior makes their wars inevitable. Patriotism is inculcated from an early age and can remain mostly tacit (except on holidays and ceremonial occasions) for a long time. It is a latent and pervasive ideology. But certain issues and crises can bring it to the surface and make its presence and force blatant.
My critique of patriotism is part of a more extended critique of group identity, which I know is impossible to get rid of. I only ask that those who spend time thinking about political theory shouldn’t become enthusiasts for the group. People shouldn’t be given elaborate theoretical justification for loving their group so much that the divisions between societies become like absolute differences in nature. Patriotism reinforces this tendency by entwining group identity with the unexamined masculine idea of team, team spirit, and team sports between us and them. Ethnocentrism, racist pride, and religious arrogance all do their part in supporting group identity and help to provide the spark and the fuel for war. If elites often get the major benefits of a successful war, patriotism helps to dim awareness of the motives behind war, and thus to minimize popular resentment.
Randolph Bourne, an exemplary thinker, said that war is the health of the state. I just say that patriotism keeps the war-spirit in good health.
Read: The Patriotism of Enemies and the Health of the War-Spirit
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Kateb’s response to me raises a number of questions. Let me comment on a few.
(1) Kateb notes that constitutional patriotism involves devotion to a particular political order because it is one’s own and “not only” because it is legitimate. That’s true, but what’s wrong with it? My son happens to be a fine young man; I cherish him for his warm, caring heart, among many other virtues. I also cherish him above other children because he is my own. Am I committing a moral mistake? I would be if my love for my son led me to regard other children with indifference — for example, if I voted against local property taxes because he is no longer of school age. But it is perfectly possible to love one’s own without becoming morally narrow.
(2) Kateb observes, rightly, that people “often” sacrifice themselves for illusions, not for high constitutional principles. Agreed; but that formulation points to a larger truth-namely, that patriots don’t always act that way. That is all that my position requires.
(3) Kateb merely affirms what I deny, that patriotism entails “my country, right or wrong.” Patriotism means, rather, caring enough about your country to try to correct it when it goes astray. When that is not possible, one must make a difficult choice. A number of non-Jewish German patriots left their country in the 1930s because they could not stand what Hitler was doing to their Jewish fellow-citizens.
(4) “Whatever is worth killing for is worth dying for.” Again, agreed. Does it follow that a political community must be morally unblemished to be worth killing or dying for? The United States was a deeply flawed nation when it went to war, not only against the country that had attacked it, but also against Nazi Germany. I suppose we could have stayed out of that fight if Hitler had let us (he didn’t). The servicemen at Normandy harbored no dulce et decorum est illusions; they fought against pure evil in the name of a partial good. They were neither wrong nor deceived to do so, or so I believe.
Read: Moderation in Pursuit of Patriotism is No Vice
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Professor Kateb begins his response to me by agreeing with me concerning the close link between patriotism and popular government. I can return the favor by agreeing with him that popular government is not intended to serve the majority (of the people) “at the expense of the minority.” He continues by saying that he believes in “the right of self defense,” but he also declares, as if it were a self-evident truth, that most democratic wars are fought not to preserve the “lives, liberties, and goods of the people,” but, instead, for “grandiose and often insincere ideals and for limitless augmentation.”
I can speak with some authority on this subject. I spent four long years fighting World War II, and it never occurred to me, nor does it do so now, that I was fighting for some grandiose and insincere ideal. Rather, I fought – as I suggested when I referred to Lincoln’s eulogy on Henry Clay – for the “idea” of my country. In his Gettysburg Address, Lincoln referred to this idea as a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. By fighting and winning that war, Lincoln went far toward making that “idea” a reality for this country’s longest lasting minority. Call me naive, but I firmly believe that by fighting and winning World War II, we made it more likely that the day would come when a member of that minority – specifically Barack Obama – could say that he would “never forget that in no other country on Earth is [his] story even possible.”
Read: Fighting for the Idea of a Country
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George Kateb wishes me to be more serious — or at least to take the state more seriously. Well, the most serious thing a philosopher can do is make distinctions, so let me begin with one. It is one thing to take the state seriously as a force in the world, and quite another to take it seriously as an ethical entity.
I find it hard not to take the state seriously as an agent that is capable of exercising great power. When it goes to war, there is no alternative but to take the state very seriously indeed. I take North Korea very seriously as a nuclear-armed power, and Equatorial Guinea no less seriously as a state that exercises its power through the machete. To take the state seriously here means to be wary of its presence in the world. Taking it seriously in this sense will not lead to patriotism, only prudence.
I find it impossible, however, to take the state seriously as an ethical construct, and cannot take seriously those who see in it something to be celebrated or who view membership in it as something to be treasured. The state is a form of social organization that reflects the human desire to have power over others. It has its origins in war. Camps are the mothers of cities, as Hume so neatly put it. Because rule by force alone is difficult, most states try to rule by gaining approval — enough at least to make it difficult for the state to be overturned — but the use of force remains a vital resource. There is little to be gained by decrying this fact, for it remains true that we haven’t come up with alternative forms of social organization that will better keep those who love power in check. To be sure, there are better and worse states; and I’m all for doing what it takes to stop our own states from becoming worse — more ambitious, more tyrannical, and more warlike. But it’s not a form of human association for which I hold out great hopes. Happily, however, I am rarely disappointed by the state, for my expectations are not high.
None of this is inconsistent with taking seriously the erosion of civil liberties, or with working to prevent or to end destructive military adventures. It is not inconsistent with taking politics seriously, if limiting harm and suffering are best served by political efforts. But it is inconsistent with seeing the state as an important moral good. States matter; but really, states just don’t matter.
That said, I will invoke a third sense of the word when I admit that I find it very hard to take George Kateb’s analysis of the causes of war seriously. It is his thesis that patriotic sentiment, along with weapons, is one of the principal underlying causes of war. Unless it is sustained by patriotic sentiment at home, the state cannot act abroad. I can’t take this proposition seriously because I think it’s simply false. It’s not that I can’t see what Professor Kateb is driving at. It’s true that the state cannot act unless it enjoys some minimal level of support. But states go to war all the time without the approval of their subjects or citizens, who are all-too-frequently duped into granting that approval after the fact.
The causes of war, I submit, lie not in the explosive power of untapped reserves of patriotism but in the fact that political and economic elites with political and economic interests compete for political and economic power. No less importantly, the origins of war lie in the fact that when states grow they develop interests of their own, and will pursue them regardless of the interests of their members, or of human beings more generally. That interest is, above all, an interest in an expansion of the state’s power. We are, to that extent, the plaything of alien powers — to coin a phrase — for it is difficult to control great institutions.
So I’m all for criticizing patriotism and chiding patriots. But I remain unconvinced that patriotism, unlike the state, is a serious force in the world.
Read: Taking Seriousness Seriously
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The three responses provoked me to further thought, and I appreciate their incisiveness.
Answer to Professor Berns
I agree with Berns that there is a close link between popular government and patriotism. Popular government is the promise that government will serve the people — all the people and not just a few. Popular government supposedly undoes the immemorial pattern in which government has been the instrument and weapon of a few to hold down and use the rest of the population. Oligarchy is systematic unfairness and oppression, but popular government stands for fairness and some significant reduction of oppression.
Popular government is not meant, however, to serve the majority at the expense of the minority; its foundation is the premise that when all people perceive that their government exists to serve them, they should feel obliged to support it. Popular government is the one kind of government that seems to be owed devotion. Its beneficence is rare in the history of governments, and citizens should reciprocate such beneficence and do what they must in order to preserve the source — or, a principal source — of their blessings. Patriotism is the name of the most general disposition to do what is necessary to sustain one’s government for the sake of the society’s well-being. Correspondingly, we can well understand that subjects of oligarchies might not feel that they had a stake in the survival of their government and do as little as possible to preserve it. Their support is compelled. But to consider popular government as if it were merely an oligarchy in reality and a democracy only in empty form would seem to indicate an unearned cynicism.
This is a lovely picture. But it remains lovely only when we sever devotion from patriotism, or if we keep patriotism, only when we sever it from war. Even if we grant that, say, the U.S. government is a democracy and not an oligarchy — and such an assumption merits and has received serious criticism from the very start of its existence — the fact remains that some citizens die for other citizens, a minority for the majority. I still fail to see how a popular government that is founded in an agreement of the people can extort sacrifice unto death — and on a conscripted basis — from some citizens so that others can prosper. If such altruism were part of the original agreement, then that agreement was a muddle. What muddled it was patriotism and what continues to muddle it is patriotism.
I am not writing from a pacifist basis. I believe in the right of self-defense, by violence if need be. The trouble is that most democratic wars are not fought to preserve the lives, liberties, and goods of the people, but are fought, instead, for grandiose and often insincere ideals and for limitless augmentation. If patriotism — devotion to the country and obedience to its state for the wrong reasons — has to exist, it should be defensive in temperament and parsimonious in the expenditure of life, including the lives of its enemies, and not mobilize the energies of self-defense and transmute them into the energies of expansion and imperialism. In truth, if strict self-defense were ever at stake, patriotism would be unnecessary: people would not require any inflated passion to defend what was not an inflated purpose.
Answer to Professor Kukathas
In the past, I have said that patriotism is a mistake. Now Kukathas says that it is a mistake to take the state too seriously. He must mean that the state does not matter very much. Such a belief can’t be correct; rather, it expresses a utopian ideal. It’s an ideal that I have sympathy for. The ties that people tend to value most are close up, face to face, whether personal or institutional. A life made up entirely of relationships of love, friendship, neighborliness, and collegiality in the workplace is a good life. The moral trouble is that this good life is enclosed within a country, even if the country often seems invisible and lacking in reality. The country matters because it has a government, and a functioning government in a self-confident and powerful country is always ready to involve the country in war. A government not only possesses a preponderance of the means of violence and coercion in a country, it can, as Kukathas says, get the country to support the projection of these means into the world beyond its borders. In answer to him, I say that it cannot act abroad unless it is sustained by patriotic sentiment. Indeed, it cannot act for right or wrong unless it knows, to begin with, that there is a standing reserve of patriotic sentiment on which it can draw. This sentiment is a cause of war, not merely a symptom of a temporarily aroused and manipulated public. If it is a symptom, it is a symptom of an inescapable human pathology, which is self-love — what Kant calls “radical evil.” Patriotism is one of the principal underlying causes of war, just as weapons are. Patriotism is a weapon. The means of war help to create wars. In the age of mobilized masses, patriotism is the sine qua non of war, whether waged by democracies or not. Wars are inevitable because patriotism is incurable.
We must take the state with the utmost seriousness, if only when it involves a country in war and when war typically has profound effects, many of them ruinous, on the lives, liberties, and goods of people at home, but also abroad — in the case of the United States and its allies, especially abroad.
Kukathas says that “it is not possible to take the state seriously and not be at least something of a patriot.” Am I a patriot — say, a disappointed patriot? I certainly wish no harm to the United States. But I want us all to have a much keener sense of the harm its wars and policies have done to other people — Koreans, Vietnamese, Palestinians, Iraqis, and others. How could I not therefore take the American state seriously? How could any person who hopes to be halfway decent not take seriously a source of so much harm? I wish to be guided by what Thoreau said in his great lecture, “Slavery in Massachusetts,” after a runaway slave, Anthony Burns, was returned to slavery by the government of Massachusetts in 1854: “I am surprised to see men going about their business as if nothing had happened.”
I am a disappointed citizen. It’s not my patriotism, however, that is affronted by American policies of aggression and coercion, but my conviction that the high moral principles embodied in the U.S. Constitution as written and amended are violated by successive governments that have sworn to uphold those principles. Saying that a person has to be a patriot to care about what the government does or fails to do is somewhat like saying that a scientist has to have cancer in order to want to understand it. Doesn’t Kukathas take seriously the UK government’s steady erosion of certain British civil liberties and its steadfast support of the aggressive war against Iraq, and do so, not as a patriot, but as one who cares about human rights and human suffering?
Answer to Professor Galston
Some scholars have in recent times tried to develop the idea of “constitutional patriotism.” This idea, though not literally Galston’s, is sufficiently close as an analogy. Nothing so far said in defense of it has persuaded me of its tenability. The phrase is an oxymoron. The idea holds that we have patriotic feelings towards the constitution of a legitimate government — that is, a constitutional democracy. What does that mean? What could it mean but that citizens should be devoted to a constitution because it is their own, not only because it is a constitution for a legitimate government. The very phrase indicates that we should have partial or particularist feelings towards a constitution, which if it is a constitution for a legitimate government, must stand for principles that, despite some institutional differences when they are realized, are shared by legitimate governments everywhere. Patriotism is a form of love of one’s own — if we suspend our skepticism and grant that patriotism is really love and not, instead, an abstract or hallucinated love that we call love only because it may involve self-sacrifice. We impute love because a person has given up so much. But people often sacrifice themselves for illusions, for what is unworthy of their sacrifice. They sacrifice themselves not for the high principles embodied in a constitution but to sustain a government that frequently acts in violation of the constitution’s principles. One’s team just has to win. It is a regrettable fact that patriotism can be useful for a good cause, but when people have to be deceived into usefulness by an appeal to their patriotism rather than to the goodness of the cause (as with the abolition of slavery), the good they do is unintentional, almost accidental, though they suffer greatly.
Patriotism is an emotion that colors every effort that it is enlisted to achieve. Its core is not moral duty. It doesn’t calculate and it’s not given to deliberation about rights and wrongs, costs and benefits. Patriotism declaims, despite Galston’s wish that it were otherwise, my country right or wrong (in the words of Stephen Decatur’s toast in Norfolk, 1816). Although it may be mixed with other elements in the mind and heart of people, patriotism is an emotion in itself, and its advocates defend it purely, by itself, and for its own sake. Love of one’s own, when it takes a political form, is a peculiarly virulent expansion of self-love.
Galston thinks there can be a moderate patriotism, just as others think that there can be a constitutional patriotism. Yes, of course: people can be only moderately patriotic. But that fact shows that an obedient person who has only mild or moderate feelings can perform extreme acts. In a war, a moderate patriot can die as willingly as a fanatic, and kill, if not as easily, nonetheless as efficiently. Moderate patriotism doesn’t lead inevitably to moderate policies or the moderate pursuit of them.
Is nothing worth dying for? The answer is that whatever is worth killing for is worth dying for. What allows killing? To preserve oneself. Then there is an obligation to protect those one loves from death and radical dispossession, but this is an obligation that is not often felt as an obligation, but as an act that one must do if one is to continue to believe that one has a life worth living. Indeed, loved ones sometimes lead us to overlook or cover up wrongs that they have done others and to forgive the wrongs they have done us. The indulgences of personal love do not quite seem immoral, but are appalling when extended to a state. To kill and die for a moral principle — say, for a constitution that genuinely protected everyone’s fundamental rights when it was threatened by domestic usurpation or foreign tyranny — that would be admirable; it would be heroic, if not obligatory. But to kill and die at the behest of the notion that it is sweet to die for one’s country, and honorable to kill, when the country is immersed in wrong or embarked on it, that is the curse of patriotism.
Read: Patriotism Still A Mistake
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Like Walter Berns, the Brookings Institution’s William Galston faults George Kateb for failing to distinguish between virtuous and vicious forms of patriotism. He then observes that one may love one’s country without loving it in the way one loves a parent. Moreover, Galston argues, if we need the state, as Kateb admits, then it seems we may need patriotism. “It would seem to follow that the beliefs and traits of character that conduce to government’s security-providing function are ipso facto instrumentally justified, as civic virtues. That is the basis on which a reasonable patriotism may be defined and defended.”
Read: In Defense of a Reasonable Patriotism
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The London School of Economics political theorist Chandran Kukathas argues that George Kateb “takes the state far too seriously, and fails to realize that it is the state, and not patriotism itself, that is the source of the problem.” Patriotism, Kukathas claims, is a symptom “of the place the state has in the life of a person or of a people.” When people come to think there is a problem that only the state can solve, patriotism tends to surge, but “they will come to think this because the state and its acolytes have persuaded — tricked, cajoled, manipulated, deceived, conned, frightened, bullied, sweet-talked — them into believing so.” However, the state is not going anywhere and therefore neither is patriotism. So “we should just get used to patriotism, patriots, and their discontents,” Kukathas concludes.
Read: Patriotism: A Hair from the Tail of the Dog
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