Independence is a brilliant but complicated partner. She’s gorgeous, inspiring, talented and free beyond measure. She’s highly desirable, and can choose any lover she wants—yet she remains unattainable past a point, and true marriage with her remains elusive.
I’m in love with independence too, no matter my conflicted emotions about her complexities; and my own complex feelings came forth on the Fourth of July. As we watched spectacular fireworks, I felt tranquil but separate from the day’s original meanings. Yes, our ancestors courageously declared independence from an apparently tyrannical empire. I deeply celebrate the resulting constitutional principles. The results of that independence have been magical, yet weird and incomplete. Are we really independent from Britain now? Is it even possible in a global culture? True, King George doesn’t rule us anymore, and that’s excellent. Still we’re inextricably tied to the English through culture, economy, international law. Independent from the creative works of Sir Paul McCartney and friends? No thanks. Is Queen Elizabeth the enemy? Hardly. What about Tony Heyward and company? I know BP long ago changed its name from British Petroleum, instead becoming Brutal Polluters and suffering Bad Publicity from the Big Problem in the gulf due to Bonehead Policies—most of which stem from our own personal gasoline habits, which rule us more than any government does. The enemy is primarily within. And independence? Not from oil, Britain, consumerism or the onrushing beauty of integrated global society. All of our independence fades before our reintegration into something greater. I celebrate that, right alongside the continued vitality of this country’s constitutional principles. I’m glad we’re not independent from Britain.
I also believe independence is often mistaken for the individual right to inconsiderately do whatever the hell we please, and can too easily turn into isolation. I revisit the words of Nobel Peace Prize winner Betty Williams, on the public radio program New Dimensions: “The great fallacy of the United States is that it was built on individuality. That’s the greatest lie ever was told, because it was not. It was built on community politics. People got out in the communities and helped each other; farmers lent each other horses and tractors, and built barns. America was a much better place when she was a family, not an individual.” Same goes for the wider world. Tranquility is in interdependence, not independence, and certainly not in isolation.
I pondered this while staring at our minor league baseball program before the fireworks began—a game ostensibly between the Redcoats and Patriots, according to the playful scoreboard. (Two teams in opposition, but like the early states and Britain, actually partners in a larger shared game.) Our little battles, our illusions of difference and independence, showed themselves even in the program. In upcoming weeks, two sides as opposed as the colonial Americans and vintage British will celebrate pre-game events at the stadium: first will be a “Green Day,” a health and sustainability fair, bound to be attended by the ecologically minded, and bound to be avoided by those who will instead go to the following week’s “Logging Night,” featuring a performance by chainsaw juggler Mad Chad. But loggers are dependent upon a sustainable eco-system, and wood products made possible by the loggers have a cherished place in the homes of most of the ecologically focused. Independence? She’s an exquisite illusion again; an unattainable siren of the screen.
The Buddhist truth inevitably returns: interconnectedness is the ultimate reality. Independence, as beautiful and desirable as she may be, is as fleeting as the fireworks, and as bound to burn you close up. Best to watch and celebrate a lack of tyranny, and then walk home hand in hand, not independent, but respectfully and equally intertwined, man and woman, United States and Britain, friend and supposed opponent. Happy Interdependence Days. Might as well keep celebrating them, because they’ll never be over.
