On American unexceptionalism. Here’s a Washington Post article this week making the similar-but-different comparison I make about Obama’s and Romney’s views on American exceptionalism. Both men sound more like Douglas than Lincoln. I hope we get past this self-congratulatory rhetoric one day soon.
Tomorrow Bethany flies to Tokyo. We’ll next see her in August.
This evening, to celebrate her junior year abroad, we ate at a local Thai place (above).
Tonight she started a blog. She may be a fitful blogger. If so, she will have come by it naturally.
What do you think of the notion that America has a world mission? Does it sound too religious, too much like the language of crusade? Mr. Romney, a former missionary, speaks of America’s world mission with an almost religious zeal. Here’s an account of one of Mr. Romney’s recent speeches:
Addressing a Veterans of Foreign Wars convention Tuesday, GOP presidential candidate Mitt Romney made it clear he is “an unapologetic believer in the greatness of this country.”
“I am not ashamed of American power,” he said. “I take pride that throughout history our power has brought justice where there was tyranny, peace where there was conflict, and hope where there was affliction and despair.” . . .
Romney told the VFW he . . . would be “guided by one overwhelming conviction and passion: This century must be an American Century.”
Mr. Obama also speaks of America in superlative terms in almost every stump speech: we have the world’s best workers, entrepreneurs, researchers, scientists, colleges, and universities. We still offer the American Dream to people willing to move here and to work hard, he says.
Is our world mission linked to our military power, as Mr. Romney suggests, or to our economic opportunity, as Mr. Obama suggests? Whether our mission is to spread liberty beyond our boarders or to offer economic opportunity to those willing to relocate inside them, the candidates agree that we have a mission. Do we?
The sun is hesitating behind the shoulder of Mt Hood, patting her hair and checking her makeup, I suppose. Half the sky is watered rose. As I watch, yellows begin to infiltrate the intricacies of the clouds, exploiting tiny weaknesses, and pale blues begin to gather behind it all. And then, suddenly – though the sun is still not up – it all collapses into plain morning, ordinary day.