to be a patriot

Maybe it is a consequence of me being a product of two cultures, while never really finding home in either one, but I have never really understood patriotism.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the celebration of a country and it’s achievements, however, the fervour and love for a land and figureheads like monarchs, simply on the basis that you reside in a certain land baffles me.

Also, especially in the US, patriotism often feels underpinned by the idea that there was once a golden age of a nation. A time when things were great, an elite generation that is now gone with the wind. A time where wars were being one, empires were taking over the world and the beloved dominated. What people are quick to forget is the pain and destruction that were left in her wake, both abroad and at home.

Would I say that I love Nigeria and the UK? Yes. But are they by any means perfect? No. And more importantly, no country has, is or ever will be.

There seems to be a blindness in patriotism. It is a love that tends to be unwilling to see the flaws in the beloved. It gets defensive when any sort of critique is made of her and views the past with rose tinted goggles, shouting of her triumph and sweeping any missteps or faults under the rug; dooming history to repeat itself in a more insidious fashion. To love your country becomes synonymous with refusing to criticise it, as if the flag itself is the thing to be protected, rather than the people who live under it.

Surely, to truly be a patriot you have to seek growth and betterment for the land in which you live, not simply blindly adore a flag?