Here in Colorado, we’ve been having the same sort of rancorous Pledge of Allegiance fight in the statehouse and courts and schools that many states have.
Never mind that most school districts already voluntarily include the Pledge in their daily routine; the debate seems to have been taken over by Proud Defenders of Civil Liberties on one side, and Proud Defenders of Patriotic Duty on the other side (or, as their opponents might characterize them, Godless Humanist Anti-American Liburrals vs. Tyrannical Jingoistic Wingnut Consurrrvatives), with one side insisting that the Pledge is a cruel and evil imposition of political and religious speech on traumatized and trembling kidlings, while the other side insists that it’s the only thing standing between us and the utter breakdown of civil society.
I can certainly understand the Constitutional arguments on both sides, once one peels back the grandstanding and demagoguery. I can understand concerns about forced speech, the social issues that complicate opt-out systems, and the dangers of imposing statements like “under God” on kids.
What I don’t understand — or, more accurately, what I think is misguided — is the stand that “The Pledge, as require, rote speech, has no educational purpose.”
First off, if that were true, then those occasions when I was growing up and had to memorize poems and other bits of speech (let alone songs) must have been simple time-wasters. Memorizing the multiplication tables? Learning the ABC song? All of them, utterly useless as educational items.
But, second, that argument tends to segue into an attack on the purported purpose of imposing the Pledge, i.e., to instill civil (patriotic) values on the younguns. “Kids don’t become patriots because of the Flag Salute,” the argument goes. “They’re just going through the motions.”
Perhaps I have a different perspective, coming from a highly liturgical Christian denominations, but regularly “going through the motions” can, in fact, be a powerful thing. The role of ritual, and repetition, and, if you will, mottoes and common language, is pooh-poohed by thinking people these days (who, it seems, would prefer that folks start from tabula rasa to full-blown political theory solely through the rigors of intellectual discourse — with the assumption that it would validate their way of thinking), but they remain powerful, powerful things.
With liberty and justice for all.
How many Americans know that phrase? How many Americans use that phrase, either in speech, or as a touchstone for what they feel the “mission statement” for the US is? Heck, even so reliable a lefty as former Rep. Pat Schroeder (D-Colo.) is perhaps best known for her quote, “The Pledge of Allegiance says ‘..with liberty and justice for all’. What part of ‘all’ don’t you understand?”
Those words didn’t just magically appear out of the sky, of fire and lightning. They are known to as many as they are known by because of the daily recital of the Pledge of Allegiance.
Is that a bad thing?
From a teacher standpoint, I know I always liked the Pledge. It was the starting ritual, the “Entrance Hymn,” if you will, for the day. It was a way to get the kids settled, focused, broken out of their pre-school conversations and hi-jinks, and zeroed in on something.
Now, granted, it could have been standard song, or some other class activity. But — giggling and goofing off aside — there was a certain gravitas about the Pledge that made it ideal for that purpose.
(It also let you rotate around the class, having someone lead the thing — “Please stand. Ready, begin …” That had its uses, too.)
Beyond gravitas, though, or classroom organization, there’s still that civic aspect. And, again, I’ll say that rote repetition can be a useful thing. It zeroes in on certain turns of phrase, certain concepts, and makes them part of the internal and public vernacular. (In less pleasant terms, you can consider it sketchy indoctrination.) When those kids grow up, they’ll know the Pledge. Maybe they won’t use it daily, or even annually, but they’ll know the language, and they’ll be able to recognize the concepts it discusses — pledging allegiance, the flag, republic, one nation, indivisible, liberty and justice for all.
Oh, yeah, and that “under God” phrase. That’s the kicker, to my mind, and the primary basis for dispute. Is it an imposition of religion, or a “ceremonial Deism”? I can swing either way on that, and I can also recognize that the value of commonality and conformity sometimes, sometimes, is worth the discomfort that it causes.
Oh, and by the way, I don’t buy the argument about traumatized kids, either. We can argue, philosophically, over whether it is good for kids to have to say the Pledge, and what the Constitutional aspects of it are. But I would be utterly flabbergasted to find any kid, until at least the higher grades (5th, 6th, or beyond), who gave the whole thing more than a passing thought. Kids aren’t cognitively capable of that sort of philosophical distinction — “They’re making me say, ‘under God,’ but I’m a confirmed atheist!” Kids, until they are adolescents, are what their parents are (once they hit adolescence, they change sides and become what their parents aren’t; hopefully, in college, they sort things out and become what they decide to be, which is why going off to college is generally a Good Thing. But I digress.)
If anything, kids are more than happy to go along with the crowd. If they are traumatized, it’s because, frankly, the parents have made a big deal out of it, either painting the school as Doing Something Terrible To You by forcing you to do this, or by insisting that the kid not be able to join in with everyone else. There may be good, defensible reasons for doing so, but let’s remember, in this debate, that it’s really the parents who care, not the kids.
They just want it to be over so they can keep talking with their friends.
Dave…
I remember a time, before I moved on to the blissful experience of the hippie school, of a couple of Jehovah’s Witness kids in my class. This was first through forth grade. I remember them being shuffled out of the class each morning while we said the pledge. I have no idea if this brought long term damage to there little psyche’s or not, but, at the time it seem like a real good reason for something to tease them about. The whole “your not one of us” thing don’tcha know.
You know, we see eye-to-eye more than either of us realizes. I’m all for rote recitation, as it does, indeed, present an outlet for ritual. Your post was pretty much dead-on.
I also doubt any kids have been traumatized by having to recite it, but so many arguments I’ve seen have been solely based on, “Well, I said it that way, so they should too!” That makes no sense to me.
I do, though, believe the Pledge should be restored to its original wording; for one thing, it’s prettier. For another, it does not invoke any deism, which I feel has no place anywhere outside of a home, place of worship, or meeting of like-minded people. Coming as I am at this from a very fringe spiritual path, I prefer to leave such things where they belong and not shoved down my throat.
This explains where I stand on the Alabama 10 Commandments issue, too, of course, and on the idea of ditching The Star-Spangled Banner for God Bless America (and any other hot-button issue of this nature). We could spend days talking about the Founding Fathers and their intentions when it came to Church and State, as well as their non-specific Deism. I suspect we’d be in agreement on a lot of that.
Scott, we are indeed pretty close on a number of things (aside from your lunatic pigheadedness about the whole Iraq thing — but I won’t bring that up right now).
I would feel much better about the Pledge thang if we went back to the pre-“Under God” days. That folks are unwilling to do that denotes that the deism involved may not be just ceremonial.
By the same token, I do understand the “Well, I said it that way, so they should too” argument. That’s part of the point of ritual — its relatively unchanging nature. You’d be surprised how many Catholics still mourn the liturgical changes that came from Vatican II (particularly, but not exclusively, the change from Latin to the vernacular).
I don’t know. Part of it may be that, as a member of the “majority religion” makes me less sensitive to this sort of thing than others (though certainly my Catholic background, among others, makes me aware of how the definition of what the “majority” is can be a very slippery thing).
More of the evolving history of the Pledge here and here.
Stan, one question might be, to what degree, as a society, to we strive for 100% inclusiveness, seeking the least common denominator of inoffensiveness as the interface between Balkanized subgroups.
I recall, when teaching, that the Seventh Day Adventist parent of one child in my class objected to any Halloween-oriented art projects. I found something else for the kid to do, while we did pumpkins, or something of that sort, even though there was the possibility of the kid being teased (though I find that kids are often able to fob such stuff off as “something stupid my parents make me do”).
The alternative was to eschew an entire month’s worth of mainstream cultural art and related activities.
It’s a difficult balancing act, to be sure, because I feel both that the majority should, out of politeness (if for no other reason), respect the minority and their feelings. The reverse ought also to be true, of course. Blandizing everything down is no more satisfying, practical, or productive than forcing everyone to submit to the State Religious Diktats.
When I was attending junior high, I knew a girl who refused to say the pledge of allegiance because it was “worshipping an object.” I still can’t grok that.
I can understand it, while not agreeing with it. To “pledge alliegiance to the flag” could be taken by some as “worshipping an object” (though I think that overlooks the concept of veneration vs worship, and the metaphor that the flag itself does actually “stand” “for the republic”).
I was an atheist well before high school. I’d say the thing, but I’d go silent for “under God”; one could argue that this helped teach me hypocrisy and cynicism. Muttering, “yeah, right” over the “liberty and justice for all” phrase came next. The civil rights era was the background of my childhood. You’re right, ritual is powerful but you’d better be damned sure of what you’re really invoking with your daily rituals. Stan’s experience of the daily casting out of the religious minority, an embarassing and physical thing, probably had at least as much impact as the short chant.
And, c’mon, the thing is too damned short to count as memory work beyond the very earliest grades.