Lose Walt Whitman, and we lose America

Militia groups are busy these days handing out copies of the Constitution. They call themselves “Patriots” — with a capital “P.’” They believe the Constitution — or at least their peculiar understanding of what the Constitution means — is the heart of American patriotism.

I do admire the Constitution of the United States of America. I think its principles of fairness, checks-and-balances and rule of law are worth preserving, debating and appreciating. So in that sense, passing around the Constitution is a good thing. But after reading the Constitution, they should also read that other statement of American meaning: Walt Whitman’s poem “Leaves of Grass.”

I think it’s odd in a way that people want to place the soul of America in a legal document. To me, the soul of America is in its poetry — Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Langston Hughes, Haydon Carruth, Robert Frost, Joy Harjo — the list goes on. But especially Walt Whitman. That’s the kind of Patriot group I could join — the kind that has people standing at street corners passing out copies of Walt Whitman’s poetry.

Imagine how different the American conversation would be if we understood that our national DNA contains the words:

“I celebrate myself, and sing myself

“And what I assume you shall assume,

“for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”

Everything that is good and pure about the United States of America is in those lines. The first line embraces individuality, the beauty, dynamism and uniqueness of the self; the next two lines embrace community. Together, the three lines embrace a sense of self that identifies with all of humanity.

And then there’s that word that seems so foreign to tea-party politics: “celebrate.”

Walt Whitman is writing before, during and after the darkest period of our history — the Civil War — but he finds it in himself to celebrate all of life.

“Clear and sweet is my soul,” he writes, “and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.”

But the life he celebrates is not just his own. He embraces the life of the runaway slave, the Native American, the farmer, the opium eater and the whole catalog of classes, ethnicities and characters that fold together to form a national identity.

It might seem strange that I would want to place the foundation of American patriotism in a poem published 79 years after the Declaration of Independence. But there are two reasons for this:

1. American ideals did not gel until after the Civil War. The America that we celebrate today is the America that banned slavery, setting the stage for equal rights and full personhood for all.

2. It took some time for immigrant Americans to distinguish themselves from the culture of their homeland — for a uniquely American poetry to emerge. “Leaves of Grass” is our cultural declaration of independence.

The Constitution represents an abstraction. It’s easy for political manipulators like Glenn Beck to use it for their purposes precisely because it is abstract, easy to turn into a symbol that embodies their frustrations, pathology and rage. But a poem like “Leaves of Grass” emerges out of the muliti-faceted details of life — the land, the people, the joys and struggles of human beings. The poem represents a patriotism that is just as alive with or without a scapegoat. It’s a poem that celebrates our differences and our similarities — the highest form of patriotism. Our nation would be healthier, our dialog more civil, if we all took the time to read it.

David Cheezem owns Fireside Books in downtown Palmer.