It’s been roughly five years since the phrase Make America Great Again started to monopolize our nation’s attention. Whether you are a supporter of the MAGA agenda or an obstinate opponent, the slogan has been inescapable from the day it cascaded down a gilded escalator and into every American home. The phrase led thoughtful observers, both pro and con, to wrestle with the idea.
Personally, I never got it. Was it a mantra based in historical reflection or nostalgic remembrance? What time and place were we trying to go back to? What date was our DeLorean set to return? Whose actions from the past are we supposed to emulate in order to get there? These were all questions that for me, remained unanswered.
I could also never pinpoint what phase in the process we were actively in. After four years, had we made America great again? Had we entered the keep America great phase? Was America made great again and then COVID came and we weren’t great, but then we were back on track after a certain point?
The parameters for our greatness always seemed to be vague and subjective, moving on the whims of whoever was defining it. The ambiguity made the last five years feel like a collective, national, existential crisis, where both sides struggled to remember who we are and what makes us great. The only thing that became clear during this civil soul-search was that American greatness could be difficult to define, and justifiably so. It is a concept that is complex and dynamic, as much we want to make it binary, and cannot be arbitrated with a simple four-word phrase, or by a singular personality.
Ronald Reagan used the same four-word phrase, but also used a metaphor to help us understand it. He described our country as a shining city on a hill, with the eyes of all people upon us. To Reagan, our nation was a beacon of hope, not for ourselves, but for the rest of the world. I like this metaphor. Within it, the abstract idea of greatness becomes concrete. The idea is less malleable by those that wish to exploit it and more instructive, coercing us towards a way of life that, in theory, could lead us back to greatness. The metaphor, as opposed to a simple phrase, could be used to help chart our path, to find our route, and potentially tell Christopher Lloyd exactly what date to set the DeLorean to return… if there even is one.
The shining city on the hill compels us to not only think of ourselves, but the onlookers. The point of the image invoked by our 40th president isn’t that we all stand on the hill, look up and say, “Wow, look how bright we are shining, isn’t that great!” Those outside of our borders can be participants, if not the final arbitrators, of the brilliance of our outward reflection. Which makes sense because if you were in a room and someone entered and spontaneously proclaims that he is great, your first reaction would not be, “He must be great,” it would be, “This guy is a jerk.” But if someone walked into a room and the other people in that room started whispering or even proclaiming that this person was great, based on the actions and example they set, you would be inclined to believe them.
If we view ourselves in Reagan’s terms, maybe American greatness is defined less by the people in the city and more by the people outside, looking on. After all, those furthest away have the best opportunity to evaluate how bright the city is shining or how loud our example and voice echoes throughout the world, at any given time and place.
If that’s true then the act of traveling can provide an opportunity for more than just trying new foods or seeing new places. Travelers abroad can be like detectives searching for this light and listening for this echo, looking for a time and place where America’s example is imprinted in the hearts of the world. Those that look hard enough and listen closely enough can see the city for themselves and hear the echo still resonating. If our city really exists and its voice can really be heard, we should be able to find evidence of that echo abroad.
One of the best stories that illustrates this idea comes from the Russian writer Leo Tolstoy. He was traveling in the early 1900s through a remote area of the Caucus Mountains and came across a tribe of people who were incredibly isolated from the outside world. The tribesman, aware of their isolation, wanted Tolstoy to regale them with stories of the great warriors of the world and gathered the whole community to congregate and listen to him speak.
Tolstoy began by talking about the Russian Czars, detailing their battles, conquests and acts of heroism. He then described the great western conquerors like Napoleon and told them how they dominated continents. After he exhausted his knowledge of the heroes of our world, Tolstoy, like a stand-up comedian, thanked the crowd and motioned himself off stage. Before he could leave, an old man said he couldn’t go until he told them a story about what he called the greatest ruler of the world. Tolstoy racked his brain, most likely thinking, “I got Napoleon, Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar…”
While Tolstoy contemplated, the old man continued, saying, “He was a hero. He spoke with a voice of thunder; he laughed like the sunrise and his deeds were as strong as the rock and as sweet as the fragrances of roses. He was so great that he even forgave the crimes of his greatest enemies and shook brotherly hands with those who plotted against his life. His name was Lincoln and the country he lived in is called America. Tell us of this man.” Tolstoy was caught completely off guard. He said, “Their faces were aglow and their eyes burning,” when Lincoln was mentioned.
He commenced to tell them about Lincoln’s life and the attributes that made him great. His wisdom, his empathy, his thoughtfulness and resolve. Tolstoy said their eyes welled up with tears when he told them of his death. These tribesmen, far away in the Caucus Mountains, were captivated by our 16th President. For the history buffs out there, 1908, when Tolstoy originally told this story, was pre-twitter. The fact that Lincoln’s example made it to their ears, before Tolstoy visited, was astounding. The echo had to be loud to find a home in their hearts. The light from the city… our city… had to be bright for them to see it. Maybe Lincoln is the champion of our greatest moment and his example is what we need to follow in order to find that again. After his journey, Tolstoy, through the gleaming eyes of this far-away tribe, was convinced.
There is another name that thundered through the far corners of the world. His experience, wed to the experience of his country at a time and place that needed him most, seems to substantiate the idea that the nation is uniquely ordained. He was born into wealth, with a famous name into a famous family. He was smart, attractive, ambitious, and ascendant. Almost overnight, in the prime of his life, he was paralyzed. He lost the ability to walk, his promising career, and with it – his hope.
Plunged into despair and depression, he struggled to climb out. He was ashamed to be seen in public. He was lost. But he found the courage to confront his problems head on. He tried, through excruciating pain, to walk again but was ultimately unsuccessful. He only started to feel like himself, when he was surrounded by people who were overcoming similar disabilities. Around them he became less ashamed and less depressed. They effectively led him to be able to lead us. He regained his confidence at a time his country needed him most. He came to power when his nation was paralyzed. A time when proud people were forced to shamefully stand in breadlines. In this dark period, he said, “The news is going to get worse and worse before it gets better and better, and the American people deserve to have it straight from the shoulder.”
He led his nation through this depression with the courage and confidence possessed only by someone who had overcome similar odds. His optimism was born out of obstacles, not wishful thinking. His nation would overcome their obstacles through this optimism. He would then compel his people out into the world, where they didn’t want to go, to fight, not for personal glory, but for their ideals and values. He urged them to fight for their allies, even at great cost to themselves. He leveled with his people and they trusted him. He viewed his role as a position of moral leadership. He was famous for his smile, not his scowl. The darkest stain on his legacy came when he reflexively gave in to the fear that he once instructed us to reject.
His example, the challenges he overcame, his success’ and failures, the forces he battled both foreign and domestic, has to mean something to us today. We universally anoint the generation that he led, as our greatest. He was Reagan’s political hero, and maybe 40 had his name in mind when he summoned our illuminating, instructive metaphor. If he is the embodiment of that idea, that outward reflective force, we should be able to see the reflection he left behind. If he was one of our greatest champions who led us to greatness, there should be evidence in the world to build our case.
The journalist Edward R. Murrow was one of the first to find some. Towards the end of the war, he reported from a recently liberated concentration camp. He saw the unique atrocity of this particular war in person. Hundreds of dead and what he called the “living dead” which is how he described the men, women and children, so tormented that they were unrecognizable from their image-bearing selves. What he saw was worse than he expected. Some things he didn’t… or couldn’t report.
As he passed through the barracks and the dirt paths of the camp, he heard something he wasn’t expecting. As he walked, he could hear these poor, tormented people saying his President’s name. To them, people who were brought there from all corners of Europe to work and to die, his name meant something. It was a source of hope. A lifeline to keep going. As Murrow walked through the incalculable darkness, brought on by cruelty and ignorance, he could hear through these broken voices, the quiet echo of his President’s example. The light produced by the shining city was not obstructed by the high walls of Buchenwald. There was proof that the beacon of hope that Reagan believed in, could be seen by the otherwise hopeless.
Today, if you go to London and visit Westminster Abbey, where England coronates their monarchs and commemorates their greatest heroes, the same president’s name is etched in the stone on the west facing wall. Across the channel in Northwest France, his name is as inescapable as the 4-word phrase we’ve come to know. It’s probably safe to say that the people living along this coast these past five years, didn’t experience a similar soul-search for American greatness. That idea, that journey, for them is a short trip through the hedgerows.
There is no need to debate with these people what makes America great. Their fields, their beaches, their monuments, and their cemeteries, proclaim it. To them, “America First” means first on the beaches to rescue their friends, not first in line at the expense of their friends. Two opposing views, with only one to aspire to. Their land is just as dedicated and just as consecrated as the land at Gettysburg and Lincoln’s words about that battle are just as relevant. If you want to see Reagan’s Shining City for yourself, go and look out over the cliffs of Pointe du Hoc. You can see it. It is impossible to miss. The people of Normandy don’t need to strain their eyes or cup their ears to see the shining city or hear the echo of its example. The evidence is overwhelming.
Paris is a different story. Traveling detectives will need to look deeper. After all, it is one of, if not the greatest city in the world. It has the world’s greatest cathedral, which is right across from the world’s greatest museum, which is home to the world’s greatest artworks, which is across from the home of the world’s most famous queen, which is in view of the world’s most iconic landmark. The entire city is dripping with greatness. Its streets have been sanctified by the world’s greatest heroes. There are wooden beams in Parisian basements that are older than the entire story of our country. It is hard to not be overwhelmed by it all.
When we visited Paris, we used the city’s underground light rail frequently because we wanted to see all of these things in a limited amount of time. One day, when we were riding on the train, I heard his name. The same name that Edward R. Murrow heard, whispered defiantly, as he walked through Buchenwald. I could hear it. In-between words I didn’t understand, over the intercom of the train, I could hear a French voice struggling to pronounce his name. I could hear it.
I looked up at the map on the train and I could see his name.
And I remember thinking wow, even in Paris, the city saturated in greatness, they found it important to honor our 32nd President. Obviously, we had to see what metro stop “Franklin D. Roosevelt” looked like above ground. What corner of Paris did the French deem apt to name after a foreign leader, and an American one at that?
I was hoping for at least a small statue, or maybe even a plaque. Also, secretly hoping for a boulangerie to get a coffee and something to eat to fuel our sightseeing adventure. We departed the train, half excited and partially bracing for the possibility of being insulted by where we emerged in honor of 32. But not too offended because after all, this was the city of Napoleon and Charlemagne. Men whose example and feats sanctified its streets on the world stage. We walked up the stairs to street level, not knowing what to expect. And we saw…
Greatness.
“We have learned that we cannot live alone, at peace; that our own well-being is dependent upon the well-being of other nations, far away. We have learned that we must live as Men and not as ostriches, not as dogs in a manger. We have learned to be citizens of the world, members of the human community. We have learned the simple truth, as Emerson said, that the only way to have a friend is to be one.”
Franklin Delano Roosevelt
