I have vivid memories of mornings at junior high hoping no one would notice my closed mouth during the recitation of the Lord's Prayer. At eight years old, I wasn't trying to make a stand against organized religion -- I probably couldn't even spell it. I just didn't want to say something that meant nothing to me. The Pledge of Allegiance faces similar accusations after its entrance into the Supreme Court on Wednesday on the grounds of being unconstitutional for mentioning God.
I can never claim to understand what the Pledge of Allegiance means to Americans; as a British citizen I simply do not have the right. Yet, bogging down the proceedings with questions of constitutional legitimacy overrides the base argument that I can see: not all Americans share the value of its words. Forget constitutional loopholes and First Amendment clauses, the Pledge needs to be meaningful for everybody before it can be anything else.
The Bush administration argues that the Pledge celebrates "the nation's religious history" and not the almighty presence of our Father. The "nation" President Bush harks on about implies its people have a shared history, language, ethnicity and goal. America doesn't, and its "history" derives from a conglomeration of experiences from Native Americans and immigrants the world over. Pledging allegiance to a visible reminder of how many states there are and the "republic for which it stands" will mean different things to an African-American, than to someone whose great greats sailed over with a Bible under their arms. Calling America a nation in 1892, when the Pledge was penned, served as an ideological plea to obtain unity for a country riddled with separation. But the people living on these shores today have histories above and beyond that commemorated in the Pledge, and a new sense of what unity means. This demands linguistic recognition in the 21st century.
During a time of religious, political and social division, people need to feel a part of this country without caveats. Unite the people in a different rhetoric and maybe the problems hounding America can be fought from a stronger front -- a front which enjoys the diversity of its people, their history and language and looks to find a future for 300 million individual people living in one country.
Take my ridiculous national anthem as a worst-case scenario. Being the only anthem in the world to forget to mention 'we' the people, only ardent Royalists who live in old-folks' homes and eat meals-on-wheels know the lyrics. The rest of us don't give a flying fig. You don't have to be like us, America. The Supreme Court has the opportunity to open up debate concerning the meaning of the Pledge as a whole, not simply its religious repercussions. Just accept that you are no longer the nation you strived to be in the 19th century, and whether you like it or not, we aren't all theists.
You are more diverse and liberal than the Pledge makes you out to be, so find a brand new way of expressing it. Unless I can start a revolution, I'll still be singing about the Royals 'til kingdom come.
Katie McCrory is a history junior. Reach her at kathleen-ellen.mccrory@asu.edu.