The title of this inspirational reflection is not a word I
particularly like or use very often.
Basically, I like words and I understand the word, citizenship. Not particularly liking the word does not
make me anti-American. In fact, I am
very cognizant and appreciative of what it means to be an American. I think anyone who lives abroad, as I have on
multiple occasions, comes to appreciate this country and what it does for
us.
I gladly participate in all the things expected of being an
American. I always vote, always pay
taxes, support school levies in order to help the young ones in the way I feel
like I was privileged. I support fire
and police levies and more money for the library. In this age of the internet, I don’t go to
libraries like I used to, but I watch my grandkids make immense use of the
library. They love to go there, to find
age-appropriate opportunities for learning and to have librarians care about
their growth. How much money is that
worth? Quite a bit, I say.
I had not thought much about citizenship, except
occasionally when my colleague at my university mentions it when she talks
about the course she is teaching. She
actually teaches a course on citizenship.
I certainly don’t oppose that, but I am glad she is the one teaching it.
My benign neglect of citizenship was brought up short by a
recent article by David Brooks, whom I often use because of his insight. Brooks wrote an incisive essay on paying
taxes and citizenship. In a rather
artful way he uses these two ideas to portray two approaches to being an
American. Brooks says, “You can be a
taxpayer or you can be a citizen.”
Brooks goes on to define how he sees the taxpayer. He claims, “If you’re a taxpayer your role in
the country is defined by your economic and legal status. Your primary identity is individual. You’re perfectly within your rights to do
everything you legally can to look after your self-interest.” I know many Americans who look at it exactly
this way. No doubt, I have taken this
approach in the past. It is difficult
not to operate first from self-interest.
If Brooks had not introduced the other model, it would be tempting to
say, “Yep, that’s the way it is.”
Brooks contrasts the taxpayer model with the citizenship
model. I was fascinated how he characterized
it. “The older citizenship mentality is
a different mentality. It starts with
the warm glow of love of country. It
continues with a sense of sweet gratitude that the founders of the country, for
all their flaws, were able to craft a structure of government that is suppler
and more lasting than anything we seem to be able to craft today.”
I think Brooks is on to something. In a sense he is positing what I would call a
“community model” to contrast the “individual model” of the taxpayer. I suddenly realize I actually prefer the
language of “community” to citizenship.
But maybe it is merely semantics.
The community model actually puts the community ahead of the individual. We trump me.
In this community model self-interest is surely present. To deny it would be illusory. But self-interest starts with community and
then works back to what’s best for me.
When we put it this way, it is easy to understand why the
taxpayer models appeals to so many of us.
In routine ways we generally are not ready to start with
self-sacrifice. Instead, we tacitly
proclaim: let’s start with me! The
individual model begins with “me” and works toward the “we.” It’s not illegal and, in that sense,
wrong. But it tends not to build up the
community. Brooks is blunt when he says
operating with the individual model “shuts down a piece of your heart, and most
of your moral sentiments.”
I know that I prefer the community model. I know it asks me not to put myself first and
I know that is not easy. If I put it in
old theological language, to put the community first goes against my sinful
nature. Psychologically, we often are
fearful if we proceed with the community model, I won’t get what is mine---or
I’ll pay a bigger price than others. If
we are driven by fear, community won’t work.
I have seen the community model work well in three
instances: churches, teams and in a crisis.
Whether we can take it to the national and global level remains to be
seen. I hope so. And finally, I don’t care whether we call it
citizenship or community. Labeling it is
easy; living it is hard. And we will do
it together or we won’t do it at all.
In the end I do believe it is a spiritual issue. It is an issue of faith, justice and
love. Again those are easy words to use,
but difficult virtues from which to live and act. But if we don’t, it is a sadder and poorer
world.
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