I'm an American. I was born here. I live here, I work here, I sleep here. But that's not what makes me American. To be American, you must buy into the Dream. Not to be confused with 'The American Dream' (copyright, trademark, patented, etc), the Dream is believing that America is, was, and will be a slice of greatness. The Dream is believing that America is a good place, at times a righteous place, at times a powerful place. You can root for England, or you can root for Russia, or you can root for Iran, but your heart is in America.
I’m not going to lie; I’m proud of my history, of my parents’ history, of their parents’ histories, and of my ancestors. I don’t think it’s silly to believe in America. I don’t think America is evil. I don’t hate Americans. I embrace them. I love them. I look up to them. I admire, even adore them.
But let’s get something straight – and if you don’t already know this by now, then this is something you should know – America is an Empire, just like the rest of them. We are a great nation; a beautiful nation; a unique nation. Nonetheless, let us not couch our terms of endearment, or our jingoism, or our desires, into a propagandist’s terms of “greatness” or “righteousness” or “wholesomeness” or “powerfulness”. Let us observe America for what it is – an Empire.
As an Empire, our job is to hold those heads of our friends and enemies under water until they suck for wind. Our job is to maintain the long game – the intelligence game, the wait-it-out game, the 36 inning quadruple-header game. We can’t just run in and blow shit up, although we may do that, too, sometimes. No, we must play on a different field.
As an Empire, our future relies on other empires to weaken, to fall. When Greece declared bankruptcy, and Spain began to slide, and France started spinning out; when the entire European Union found itself in a bucket of hot shit, we didn’t smirk – we moved the next piece on the board. When we send Black Ops out to Libya to assassinate Gaddafi, or when we poison Hugo Chavez, or when we become embroiled in Syria with Assad, it’s not simply because we have blood lust. Say what you will about why we’re there – claim that Iraq was about oil, claim that Afghanistan was for better global reach, but understand that we are fighting to cut the throats of our strongest allies, and our weakest opponents. We are the Judge and the Hangman now; the Omnipotent King.
But also remember one more thing – we don’t have to be the Vampire skulking among the shadows of night, resting among our musty boxes of Transylvanian earth, luring our victims to suckle from our own breast. We can be good, and generous, to some limited extent. Although this does not necessarily come naturally, it can work. We can be a good Empire.
Yet…as you know, and as you can see clearly, the White Man hath come, hath seen, hath conquered. Nearby, his apprentice looks off to the northwest, imagining the peoples he will “discover”, rape and murder – in the name of territorial expansion. At their feet, the prostrate Native looks away, an accomplice by necessity, a pitiful attempt to survive, humbled at foreign hands. The Native has watched his Empire fall; has watched his women dragged from their homes by their hair while men took turns raping them in the mud, sticking them with bayonets and leaving them to bleed out. His young have been garroted, or shackled into slavery. His animals cut down and cooked. His home burnt into a pile of smoldering ash. He has watched his once-great peoples tear one another apart in a bid to survive. He has watched his sacred land trounced upon, built upon, fenced over, burnt, and scarred without his consent; stolen from his hands, stolen from his heart. While the white man gloat nearby, the Native kneels, his gaze averted, his tears silent, mourning his great and terrible loss, and doing the only thing a human can do – survive.
Don’t forget how we built this place. Don’t forget the native. Don’t forget the immigrant. Don’t forget the murder, the rape, the theft, the atrocity. Don’t forget that your forefathers were dragged through the mud to get you here, and that once they gained a foot up, they started dragging others through the mud, too. Don’t forget that life feeds on life, and that an Empire feeds on blood. If we forsake this lust, we forsake our empire, and perhaps we gain some humanity. But for godsake, don’t pretend we’re righteous – America pulls the noose tight around the throats of Her friends, and enemies, so that She can control Her future.
America is an Empire.