Notes:

The variance in reported numbers (verified declarations) is due to some candidates making more questionable statements than others but, to be fair, some have had the opportunity to present a larger number of claims as a result of having remained in the primary longer and/or have had a greater number of questions put to them at the debates due to possessing higher poll figures, i.e. Romney and Perry’s triple digits.  (Of the latter, candidates with high poll numbers are granted more questions during the debates.)  Any statement made by a candidate that has not been given a designation by Politifact can either be considered to be factual and/or of little overall consequence or, in Politifact’s terms.

In deciding which statements to check, we ask ourselves these questions:

• Is the statement rooted in a fact that is verifiable? We don’t check opinions, and we recognize that in the world of speechmaking and political rhetoric, there is license for hyperbole.
• Is the statement leaving a particular impression that may be misleading?
• Is the statement significant? We avoid minor “gotchas”’ on claims that obviously represent a slip of the tongue.
• Is the statement likely to be passed on and repeated by others?
• Would a typical person hear or read the statement and wonder: Is that true?¹

How accuracy was calculated

The accuracy rate was calculated by adding the number of “True,” “Mostly True” and “Half True” (thus issuing benefit of the doubt since it is not listed as “Half False”) statements in contrast to the sum of those deemed to be “Mostly False,” “False,” and “Pants on Fire.”  The two grosses were then separately divided by the total number of statements, thereby deriving  the representative percentage of true and false claims.  I did not round up; i.e., the reason why some percentages total 99%.

Of the major candidates; i.e., ones who remained in the primary race for more than three debates (Bachmann, Cain, Gingrich, Huntsman, Paul, Perry, Romney, and Santorum), Bachmann has the lowest degree of accuracy (who also has the largest percentage of blatantly false statements) while Romney and Paul have the highest (Huntsman having made the lowest percentage of blatantly false statements).*

• “Blatantly false” equating to Politifact’s “Pants on Fire” designation or, in website’s terms, “[A] statement [which] is not accurate and [my emphasis] makes a ridiculous claim.”  More on how Politifact gauges veracity can be found here.

An explanation (and supporting research) by Politifact as to the motive/decision for every rating (or “ruling”) can be found via a hyperlink under each “Truth-o-Meter” gauge.  For example:

The Findings

1. Bill Adair, “Principles of PolitiFact and the Truth-O-Meter”, Tampa Bay Times, February 21, 2011

Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe depicts this anthropological causation. Defoe presents a character that is divested of civilization and summarily benefits—physically, psychologically, emotionally, and morally—as he is forced to live a primitive existence. Sadly, the titular figure makes the decision to replicate his lost culture and begins to suffer from many of the same ailments which he experienced prior to his separation from modern society.

Understandably, when Robinson Crusoe is first cast ashore, he worries whether he can survive. His fear is justified because, due to specialization, he does not possess the requisite skills to be self-sustaining. He knows nothing of how to construct a shelter or identify wild edibles. Only with the aide of a firearm and a naïve attitude toward the dangers of tropical water, does he progress through his first year.

By the commencement of his second year on the island, Crusoe has not only built a “castle,” but one replete with rafters, a thatched roof, shelving, two entrances, and a cellar. He fashions a table and chair along with various tools, such as a shovel and makeshift wheelbarrow. Through trial-and-error, he renders tallow from goat fat and crafts candles as well as a lamp. He learns to process food (dried grapes). Within the ensuing decade, he masters pottery, discovers the secrets to baking, engineers two boats, constructs a Dutch oven, teaches himself the art of basket weaving, and successfully tans hides and tailors his own clothing.

Crusoe is pleasantly surprised that his needs are not only met but surpassed by the island’s resources, “I possessed infinitely more than I knew what to do with.” He does become seriously ill shortly after his arrival but acute sickness is never mentioned again during his remaining 27 years on the island. This can be attributed to his heightened constitution, due not only to the nutritional diversity which the island affords—turtle, goat, fowl, hare, fish, eggs, and fruit, the latter in the form of grapes, melons, lemons, limes, and oranges—but his increased physical activity and improved mental health: He hosts an almost perpetual sense of accomplishment atop (which he makes explicit note) being relieved of social and familial pressures, expectations, and demands. Once he establishes a routine by which to sustain his daily needs, he finds that he is in possession of ample leisure time, whereby he takes up the “hobbies” (by definition, enterprises which are not vital to survival) of woodworking (as opposed to carpentry), tailoring, pottery, baking, and basket weaving.

Civilization demands that humans gain and retain absolute control. This is achieved by the immediate environment being domesticated so it no longer poses a threat before it is exploited in order to better serve a populace. Once this is completed, any (perceived) dangers posited by fellow humans are addressed in a like manner. This totalitarian approach to existence is in stanch contrast to organic integration into a previously or currently existing schematic. Anthropocentrism quickly transforms into ethnocentrism so as to further provide for a specific group, i.e. a particular society. Sadly, Crusoe begins emulating and replicating the civilization and society from which he has been cast.

His “civilized” tendencies first affect only him. He observes that the climate does not require one to be clothed and, as we see with the aborigines of the region, is actually prohibitive. His decision to remain almost fully dressed heightens the risk of dehydration (which perhaps contributed to his aforementioned ailment given he had yet to acclimate to the tropical weather¹ ). Also, despite admitting that money has no intrinsic value outside a society which acknowledges currency, “Alas! there the sorry, useless stuff lay [in a cave where it proceeded to mold]; I had no more manner of business for it,” he nonetheless puts himself at repeated risk while attempting to procure coinage. Though he states he does so for aesthetic reasons, he erects a second shelter, his “bower,” and—though one could argue this is a preventative measure should something happen to his “castle” (as witnessed when an earthquake occurred and a hurricane struck the island during the first year)—Crusoe’s capricious want foreshadows his ensuing, and otherwise avoidable, grief.

During a week-long furlong to his “bower,” Crusoe leaves a kid tethered at his “castle.” The goat nearly dies of dehydration. Though the animal was not kept as food, this incident nevertheless presages the trials of animal husbandry, which he will later devote himself. When he realizes that his gunpowder supply is diminishing, he begins utilizing traps and snares. However, shortly thereafter and believing such to be more economic, he builds a corral and proceeds to tame and breed goats. Likewise, he “accidentally” (after disposing of what he thought were mere husks) sows barley (before adding rice to his crop). He then dedicates his energies to horticulture. Granted, agriculture avails him to the possibilities of butter, bread, and cheese but it isn’t necessary for survival and results in a master-slave relationship that, inevitably, will be conveyed to people.

Crusoe was contented—and survived—upon the island’s resources yet, when he gains access to commodities which he prefers (as opposed to requires), he arbitrarily obligates himself: Not only must he plant, cultivate, and render seed, he has to feed, water, and supervise the goats and maintain their pen, atop crafting storage units (so as to keep his goods in ready supply). In a survival situation, any unnecessary expenditure, especially ones which run the risk of injury (such as carpentry), is undeniably foolish. (Which is why trapping and snaring are the best hunting methods for they are safer than using a firearm and more economic in respect to time and energy.) Though we could defend his decision to build a second shelter, few will argue that food storage isn’t a luxury, especially when produce is available year-round, and—more importantly—rearing livestock is dangerous. These stresses are compounded by the possibility of crop failure (the probability of which is abruptly increased by the cultivation of potentially invasive flora) and livestock losses as leisure time summarily diminishes due to agricultural responsibilities. As such, the “bower” becomes useless, the energy involved in its construction wasted, as the risks incurred in building it vain. Moreover, these “conveniences” capriciously restrict Crusoe’s naturally diversified diet.

Crusoe’s mental and emotional strain is further exacerbated when he discovers a foreign footprint in the sand. After 15 years of having “nothing to covet,” he fears that “[ . . . ] they [natives] [will] find my enclosure, destroy all my corn, and carry away all my flock of tame goats, and I should perish at last for mere want.” It is worthy to note that Crusoe refuses to acknowledge that, prior to his agricultural endeavors, a hunter-gatherer existence had sustained him and, thus, if said destruction were to occur, it would not result in his inevitable starvation. Upon finding the mysterious print, he spends three days in hiding and only reappears when he can no longer afford to neglect his goats. Had a threat been present, his arbitrary dependency upon livestock might have cost Crusoe his life. He devotes the next two years to reinforcing his “castle” and, to better veil his herd, builds another corral further into the island, all while abstaining from fire craft or engaging in any leisure activities for fear of being discovered. (It could also be conjectured that the illness he suffered during his first year on the island was due to unpurified water, which he now makes himself susceptible once again.² ) At the heart of Crusoe’s paranoia lies in his residual culturally-induced imperialism: Aware that other individuals might manifest themselves, i.e. a potential society, he claims private ownership of everything around him (note the frequency of possessives within the previous quotation) because he believes a hierarchy must necessarily exist—of which, he presumes he naturally resides at its apex—and, ergo, that others will desire what he “owns” as a consequence, so much so that he lives in crippling fear for approximately a decade. Whereas he once rejoiced that, “I was removed from all the wickedness of the world here; I had neither the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, nor the pride of life,” when (the mere thought of) a society presents itself, Crusoe’s hubris returns.

His propriety over objects and animals quickly metamorphoses into domestication and ownership of people. Once more, this is merely an extension of one of civilization’s creeds: A person must control one’s surroundings. He rescues a Caribbean native from being cannibalized—not on moral grounds—but because Crusoe is in need of additional labor. Unnecessary augmenting the island’s population puts both parties at risk of contracting disease and is a mortal liability for Crusoe given that the autochthon is a cannibal. Crusoe’s apprehension is evident in his forcing the aborigine to sleep outside the “castle’s” fortifications. In hopes of subduing the threat, he neutralizes the native by eradicating his identity: Crusoe issues him an English title, “Friday” (thus depriving him of his given name), Christianizing him (negating his religion), and—perhaps paradoxically—assimilating him to European customs (dispossessing him of his culture). A further irony is that Crusoe was once enslaved yet regards and treats Friday as ethnically subservient, as epitomized by Crusoe’s insistence that Friday refer to him as “Master.” Crusoe proceeds to rescue others and tyrannize them, i.e. a Spanish refugee is described as “my [Crusoe’s] Spaniard.”

Crusoe sends out a rescue mission and, in preparation for greater numbers returning, he expands crops, domesticates more goats, dries additional grapes, and weaves extra baskets in order to transport a greater amount of goods. Before the mission’s return, mutineers dock and are quelled. After subverting them, since they too are products of specialization, he teaches five of the insurgents agriculture before leaving them the island. Years later, he returns to find the island’s population so great (children are now present after women were brought from the mainland) that he designates private plots for each of its residents. (The irony is that he postpones his return to the island, in part, due to owning a Brazilian plantation which he cannot personally oversee atop fretting about the security of his money while abroad.) Not only does he compound the dilemma by adding two workmen to the colony (growing numbers necessitates the arrival of technology in the form of a blacksmith) but he sends for more supplies and women from Brazil and England. Of these goods, cows and hogs are included, which implies that he believes (and perhaps rightfully so by this time), that the island cannot—or will not in the near future—naturally sustain its human occupants. Also, as with his request for Brazilian women, bringing foreign fauna to the island runs the risk of importing disease which could result in the demise of the island’s indigenous livestock and, conversely, introduce the new fauna to native illness. Thus, if—for whatever reason—the island’s populace had to resort to a hunter-gatherer existence, Crusoe’s induction of civilization, especially in the guise of agriculture, might inhibit survival because the islanders’ unregulated numbers are now dependent upon set yields (war, the consequence of class division and/or hubris, ruined a previous year’s crops), the native habitat may be unable to support present numbers, and/or the island’s ecosystem might be compromised.

When Robinson Crusoe first arrives on the island, he adopts anarcho-primitivist principles and soon finds himself happier than he had ever been.³ Unfortunately, he decides to abide by the dictums of civilization and, as a result, his newfound contentment promptly vanishes. Though for many years his ensuing discomfort is singular and self-inflicted, he departs from the island after instilling its remaining members with the ideals which deprived him of a rewarding existence. The inevitable consequence is that the island’s inhabitants will not be afforded the life which Crusoe once enjoyed nor will the island be able to sustain its populace as it once had.

1. We cannot issue Crusoe benefit of the doubt because Defoe shifts the location of the island where his source material was lost—Alexander Selkirk was stranded 400 miles west of central Chile—to Tobago, which is found off the northeast shore of Venezuela. Thus, it is appropriate that Selkirk was clad in fur when he appeared to his rescuers because Más a Tierra’s temperate rarely rises above 80°F yet the average low is slightly above freezing. This is contrast to Crusoe’s locale—which is only 11 latitudinal degrees from the Equator—where the average daily high is 90° and the low almost never dips below 75°. Nevertheless, and perhaps due to the social implications of wearing such, Crusoe does not strip his pelts of fur.
2. Though he could be utilizing the sterile acquisition methods of solar stills, rain catchment, dew collection, water vines, and condensation bags during this time, given the region’s climate, it is doubtful that he could avoid dehydration without boiling water.
3. As outlined in John Howell’s 1844 The Life and Adventures of Alexander Selkirk, http://dissidentvoice.org/wp-admin/post.php?action=edit&post=16714&message=1R.L. Megroz’s 1939 The Real Robinson Crusoe, and Richard Steele’s 1713 article from The Englishman titled “Alexander Selkirk” (in which the author interviews the castaway), after his rescue, Selkirk longed to return to the life he had on Más a Tierra. In In Search of Robinson Crusoe, Daisuke Takahashi even conjectures that, prior to his death by yellow fever, Selkirk set to sea once more with the intention of returning, perhaps permanently, to the island.

Robinson Crusoe’s ethics are rooted in his inherent imperialism. Being the only representative of his race and culture for 27 of his 28 years upon the island, and considering both superior to all others, he not only endeavors—regardless if it is applicable, necessary, or even viable—to replicate the society from which he came but, through these means, to reign supreme over his environment. Crusoe is culpable because he acknowledges that he has been freed from socially-defined standards and, more importantly, that such standards might, in themselves, be questionable yet, after rationalizing the ethically justifiable course of action, he frequently opts for a more self-aggrandizing, convenient, or profitable avenue.

For example, he criticizes the Spanish Inquisition as being unjust yet forces a Caribbean native whom he has liberated from being cannibalized—not on moral grounds but in order to obtain a servant—to assimilate to his Anglo-Saxon lifestyle. Crusoe never bothers to ask the native’s given name. Instead, to commemorate the day upon which Crusoe acted so gallantly, “the creature” is nonchalantly dubbed “Friday.” Crusoe then demands that the native be clothed despite Friday being uncomfortable in such adornments and, moreover, the climate not requiring such. Furthermore, Crusoe rarely inquires into Friday’s perspectives, customs, or culture (the latter has to offer them), thus implying that Crusoe believes his ways to be implicitly superior as he proceeds to teach Friday to speak English and convert him to Christianity. It is worthy of note that, when Friday is rescued, he grovels at his liberator’s feet. Crusoe does not lift Friday up but permits him to remain in his subservient position so as to establish the desired hierarchy (he has Friday refer to him as “Master”) as well as to satiate his narcissism. Astoundingly, Crusoe allows this to occur not once but twice. (Similarly, prior to Crusoe’s discovery of humans upon the island, he revels in his “sovereignty” over the island’s fauna, as he observes that he has capricious control over whether it lives or dies.) The epitome of Crusoe’s moral myopia toward Friday resides in Crusoe’s lack of empathy after having once been enslaved himself. Most pointedly, being free of societal customs and beliefs, there is no alibi for why he continues to uphold the institution of slavery, especially considering that, for several years, Crusoe and Friday are the island’s only inhabitants. Granted, he does not literally bind Friday in shackles and chains, however, he treats him as an inferior and in a manner which, if back in Europe, he would by no means apply to a fellow Briton.

It is with such happenstance convenience that Crusoe reinforces his religious views before summarily dismissing them. For instance, after several languid gestures toward reverence, once Crusoe is born-again, he maintains a calendar and observes the Sabbath. Yet, when he loses track of the date, his devotion subsequently subsides. Additionally, when he notices that barley has sprouted near his “castle” (shelter), being unable to reconcile how it arrived there, he attributes its presence to God’s will. He then recalls that he’d discarded several husks which might have contained seeds and dismisses divine intervention as being the culprit. Obviously, Crusoe’s level of devotion is dependent upon need (such as illness or desperation) or occurrences which he cannot readily rationalize and his theological fervor abruptly diminishes once he no longer requires assistance or deduces a non-supernatural cause for previously inexplicable events. Not surprisingly, he considers abandoning his faith in favor of another once he is rescued because doing so would be more lucrative (Catholicism is the reigning religion in Brazil, which is where his tobacco plantation resides).

Even in the wake of society, Crusoe is unable to sever himself from his entrepreneurial tendencies and, however futile, desire for material and monetary possessions. Despite his conjectures that, like Jonah, he might have been cast out for his sins (Crusoe would have never found himself stranded had he not set out to sea to procure more slaves), he produces more food than he can consume only to watch it rot. He practices animal husbandry and agriculture after conceding that the island aptly provides for his needs without having to resort to such labor-intensive activities. He even goes so far as to craft a table and chair. As noted, he has a “castle,” but he also possesses another shelter-cum-estate as well, which he refers to as his “bower.” Even after admitting that money has no intrinsic value in a tender-free existence, Crusoe hordes every coin he finds. Lastly, toward the end of his “reign” upon the island, the self-described “king” begins cataloguing people as possessions: He refers to the island’s inhabitants as his “subjects,” prisoners as “my people,” and even perceives specific (and in his mind, civilized) individuals as being his own, i.e. “the Spaniard” quickly metamorphoses into “my Spaniard.”

Other instances of Crusoe’s moral hypocrisy and logistic incongruity include his consenting that cannibals might well be acting upon political or cultural principles and, as a result, it may not his place to pass judgment upon them. (Friday confirms this when he informs Crusoe that cannibalism is the consequence of warfare and is not a standard practice, as evidenced by 17 stranded Britons currently residing peacefully amongst Friday’s people.) Nevertheless, and despite his newfound religiosity, Crusoe—against his better judgment and moral conscious—proceeds to slaughter cannibals in the name of God. He never reconciles the paradox in his condemnation of the cannibals’ capital punishment and his own country’s like sentence for mutiny.

Not surprisingly, Crusoe hasn’t any friends. Rather, his associations are strictly limited to accomplices, acquaintances, or business partners. (After he is rescued, he does go on to marry but never cites his wife by name.) Every individual’s worth is based upon the person’s utilitarian value as Crusoe refuses to permit sentimentality to intervene in his decision-making. This is best evidenced in his selling of Xury, a Moorish youth who aided Crusoe in escaping enslavement, which Crusoe later regrets—not because he misses the boy (though he does)—but because he is in need of additional labor on his Brazilian plantation. Dauntingly, when he is rescued, Crusoe leaves the island to British criminals without attempting to notify those who have set off to sea in search for help—the aforementioned Spaniard and Friday’s father—that there are new, dangerous inhabitants awaiting them upon their return. These individuals are not even an afterthought in that, in lieu of the maritime risks involved atop the political tension between Spain and Britain, Crusoe never bothers to inform us of the rescue mission’s fate, even after returning to the island years later. This omission is all the more insulting given that the seafarers aided Crusoe in retaining control of the island after mutineers came ashore.

What perhaps best outlines the Crusoe’s Machiavellian nature is his reaction to a single footprint which mysteriously appears on the beach one day. Though, upon his initial appearance upon the island, he longed to be rescued, Crusoe gradually becomes apprehensive of any sign of human life, as seen in him automatically assuming the enigmatic mark to be the sign of a hostile presence. Crusoe’s paranoia stems from fear that his comfortable state of existence and omnipotence might be compromised whereas before, when he was unsure of his ability to survive, he longed for salvation. He fears, not only cannibalistic natives, but also Spaniards. Yet ironically, fellow Britons prove to be his greatest threat (thereby negating Crusoe’s ethnocentricity). His megalomania is exemplified by his inability and unwillingness to admit fault even after he has returned to Europe. Various dates in his calendar are blaringly incorrect and, though a simple pen stroke would eradicate the errors and the reader would be none the wiser (while saying nothing of the intellectual integrity that most authors would insist upon in acknowledging the mistakes so as to better represent the conditions under which they were operating), Crusoe chooses to ignore them.

Though he does possess a few redeeming qualities, such as resourcefulness and determination, Daniel Defoe’s character of Robinson Crusoe is by no means a hero or even an admirable human being. He is an unapologetic racist, imperialist, fickle theist, and megalomaniac par excellence. He continually shirks moral obligation in favor of activities wherein he will profit, be it financially or socially, or which will appease his narcissism. His lethargy is only superseded by potential harm or ennui. He displays little moral development in that he rewards those who were faithful to his financial interests while he was stranded—not out of respect or gratitude—but anxiety and vanity respectively: Fearing that the Inquisition may result in martyrdom, he sells his plantation and donates the proceeds, of which “The world will seldom be able to show the like of.” During his valediction, Crusoe declares that he has since cast off once again, thereby implying that—to our knowledge—he might have committed many of the same moral atrocities on his “new adventure.” And why not? What evidence do we have to the contrary that, after 28 years on a desert island, he is any the wiser since this ten-year voyage opens with his return to the island where (in true capitalistic spirit) he divides “his colony[’s]” land into plots before announcing to its populace that it is not permitted to leave?

We are only likely to be more tolerant of other identities if we also learn to love our own a little less. Breaking down stereotypical images of others is only likely to work if we also break down the fantastic elements in our own self-regard.

– Michael Ignatieff

In his 1945 essay “Notes on Nationalism,” British essayist George Orwell likens Nationalism¹ to schizophrenia. Is the famed writer perhaps overextending and overtaxing his association and, in turn, being a bit too flippant for his own good? Is his analysis dated, given that it was published during World War II? Sadly, no. The various motivations for nationalistic support, atop the logistic inconstancy with the theory proper, finds that the author of 1984 and Animal Farm is not only poignant, but unwaveringly faithful in the assessment of his theme.

Nationalism is predicated upon two vacuous concepts: land ownership and citizenry. When land is divided via capricious delimitation, i.e., assigned boundaries aside from those which are naturally occurring, and a person is born into such a geography, it thereby makes the individual a “citizen” of the territory and, by deduction, not another. Interestingly, one will inevitably, due to a forum of tiered conditioning, gradually develop an allegiance to his or her associated region despite the fact that there is no valid geopolitical basis for such affinity.

The adherence to one’s citizenry is due to hubris atop existential ineluctability. As American philosopher Benedict Anderson observes and social psychologist Michael Billig seconds in Imagined Communities and Banal Nationalism respectively, an individual is not given to select one’s family anymore than he or she is permitted to choose one’s race, gender, or familial socioeconomic standing in that his or her lot could have easily been another. As such, the protective, oftentimes defensive, attachment one develops for his or her (inherited) heritage (verses earned, which justifies pride) is arbitrarily founded. Granted, one could argue — as sociobiologists often do — that a genetic devotion is inherent in every organism, but blood kinship — and especially the extension to local, state, and national affiliation — is devoid of logistic foundation. Why do people adamantly maintain and, moreover, delight in their happenstance associations? Simply put, ego. The drive for social identity eschews the demand for the legitimization of associative pride as the drive for self-worth (due largely to the fear of death) leads an individual to not only place implicit importance upon oneself, but to align him or herself with such, particularly in situations in which a person is unable to readily sever one’s corollary ties (such as family). This is why Orwell professes, “Nationalism [ ... ] is inseparable from the desire for power. The abiding purpose of every nationalist is to secure more power and more prestige, not [Orwell’s emphasis] for himself but for the nation or other unit in which he has chosen to sink his own individuality.”

It is with this that the foundation is paved for one to unjustly, and oftentimes rashly, (pre)judge others. Paradoxically, given that discrimination upon race or genderżdue to their existential considerationsżis untenable, the irony nonetheless exists that bias in respect to the equally coincidental relation to one’s nationality is readily humored. This is why Orwell outlines that Nationalism houses “[ ... ] the habit of assuming that human beings can be classified like insects and that whole blocks of millions or tens of millions of people can be confidently labeled ‘good’ or ‘bad.’” With this, Particularism is evoked, for one is allowed to freely favor one’s own under Nationalism. Thus, the all-inclusive sentiment that “Americans” are good becomes acceptable and, unfortunately, permits the counter to the uttered with little or no ramification, i.e., “The French are bad.” Irrefutably, a nation can act unjustly. However, unless a country has the unanimous support of its inhabitants, such comments — when directed at the nation as a whole — are generalized, but ultimately hollow. Regrettably, such stereotyped ideas become all-too-frequently absolute and forbid dissenting persons to disavow responsibility for acts committed in their name.²

Inimical disputes, from verbal to physical in both individual as well as collective form, arise due to associative allegiance in the guise of fanatical sports fans to nationalistic backing. Such loyalty is due to arbitrary affiliation and rarely because one agrees with the ideas expressed by one’s party. Hence, most baseball fans cheer for the home team, not because they have evaluated the team and decreed it is worthy of unwavering support, but because its athletes are regionally connected with them. Likewise, wars are often reinforced by a populace, not because it consents to the reasons for the conflict, but merely due to the fact that it is vicariously involved by way of citizenship, citizenship whose allegiance — given the motivations for partisanship — would be the converse if the mass of individuals were to have been born in the opposition’s country.

Perplexingly, while ardor for one’s country is frequently extolled as a virtue, ethical relativism supercedes universal morality once the same is expressed in the opposition, i.e., from an American perspective, the French cannot be proud of who they are because they are the opposition. Ironically, this provides a segue for the non sequitur of an American being outraged at the thought of a Frenchman killing an American in battle while the converse prompts applause. Thus, ethical inconsistency befalls the theory of Nationalism because the justification for the American’s grievance is that the French citizen should be infallibly supporting the United States. Of course, this again overlooks the basic concern for partisanship being established upon an analysis of the conflict, the motivations for such, and how each party is addressing the situation. As British philosopher William Godwin poses in Enquiry of Political Justice, “What magic is there in the pronoun ‘my’ that should justify us in overturning the decisions of impartial [author’s emphasis] truth?”

In short, it is not what is being done but who is conducting the action that governs the legitimacy of the Nationalistic act, whichżas a consequence of citizenshipżignores the cosmopolitan obligation to the human race in favor of regional fidelity. Thus, a consummate shortcoming of the Nationalist is the inability (or unwillingness) to identify parallel scenarios. For instance, if an American is taken into foreign custody and transported to an area in which the Geneva Convention doesn’t apply so that the captor will not be obligated to formally change the individual, thus allowing the hostage (to be a prisoner, one must be charged of a crime) to be held indefinitely, an enraged outcry of protest will more than likely be uttered on behalf of the American Nationalist. Conversely, upon the citation that America is conducting the same practices at Guantanamo Bay, the Nationalist will invariably retort that contingencies are present (while prohibiting the same to exist for the American hostage) — that what is being done is in the country’s best interest and that there indubitably exists just cause — despite the fact that there may be no evidence upon which to base such sentiments given that no charges have been filed. On this, Orwell notes, “Moreover, although endlessly brooding on power, victory, defeat, revenge, the nationalist is often somewhat uninterested in what happens in the real world. What he wants is to feel that his own unit is getting the better of some other unit, and he can more easily do this by scoring off an adversary than by examining the facts to see whether they support him.” As such, it can be reasonably conjectured that the fuel of Nationalism is, in part, an internal self-loathing experienced on behalf of the proponent, which is being projected onto an external entity.

When a nation is viewed, in British sociologist Anthony Giddens’s terms in The Nation-State and Violence, as a “power-container” — power being something which Nationalism must promote in order to garner and retain advocates (which is why when an individual recognizes his or her national identity and the nation is threatened, the person’s surrogate power is perceived as being subsequently endangered) — and it becomes obvious that one’s representative interests are in inevitable decline, the Nationalist will almost always refuse to acknowledge and accept guilt even when applicable. Should a Nationalist’s cause be unsuccessful, with dogmatic, chauvinistic rigor, the person will indubitably specify a scapegoat. For example, if America sets a mission in Iraq and the mission fails, it is not that the agenda may have been flawed or poorly executed, or that he or she didn’t enlist, make a donation, or volunteer in order to aide the effort, but that the mission did not have the unanimous support of its people. Ergo, the dissenters are to blame (for it is unthinkable that America would never meet its agenda in the face of a — by definition — lesser adversary).

Furthermore, under Nationalism, one’s innate sense of self-worth reinforces, not only regional stereotypes, but prompts and goads subjective evaluation in respect to information. As British journalist Sydney Harris observes in Pieces of Eight, “The pride of nationalism, however, trumpets its country’s virtues and denies its deficiencies, while it is contemptuous toward the virtues of other countries.” As such, Nationalists often unabashedly seek the proverbial Sartrean “Yes Man” for argumentative fortification. In reference to the opposition’s stance, retorts are oftentimes either issued rote and with little examination (largely due to the innate fear thatżby allowing the circumstance under consideration to be earnestly scrutinizedżsuch might permit the rival’s plight to gain sympathy or, worse yet, prove itself to be justifiable) or counterarguments are wholeheartedly ignored, thereby implying that such is not worthy of reflection or mention.

Returning to Orwell’s comment that an individual will literally merge his or her own identity into that of one’s nationality, it can be frequently witnessed that “[t]he smallest slur upon his own unit, or any implied praise of a rival organization, fills him [the Nationalist] with uneasiness which he can relieve only by making some sharp retort.” A not uncommon reaction by a Nationalist to even the most vague, insinuative support (or even neutrality) of the opposition from a compatriot is defamation of the speaker’s loyalties regardless of the content of his or her sentiments. Yet, in the case of an American Nationalist defending his or her country’s reputation, intents, and actions, such becomes historically problematical and ironic given that the United States was founded by a collective of questioning rebels. This is why Canadian politician Michael Ignatieff’s observation in “Nationalism and the Narcissism of Minor Differences” that “Nationalism is the transformation of identity into narcissism” is a very astute, psychopolitical assessment of the ideology, the consequence of which merely exacerbates the problem in that prejudice is easier to achieve and maintain when one’s focus is upon a group as opposed to an individual. Moreover, the assimilation of self into a collective also permits the Ad Populum fallacy free reign for, in the event of a Nationalist’s personal ethics conflicting with his or her nation’s itinerary, more often than not the individual will defer to the group, the Nationalist’s decision being based upon the presumption that the consent of numbers is assurance of correctness.

Interestingly, this defense tactic often results in logistic dilemmas, such as when a Nationalist’s country shifts alliances from renunciation of a long-hated rival to unflinching endorsement. As a consequence, in most cases the Nationalist will readily second his or her country’s decision without bothering to inquire as to the motives for its sudden polarity. On this, Orwell cites H. G. Wells’s Outline of History, which houses the exemplary instance of “the United States [having been] praised almost as extravagantly as Russia is praised by Communists today: yet within a few years this uncritical admiration had turned into hostility.” Moreover, American novelist Mark Twain succinctly satirizes the unassuming allegiance of association in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn when he has his titular character query Buck as to why the Grangerfords are harboring a thirty-plus-year feud with the Shepherdsons, to which the latter responds:

“[ ... ] [H]ow do I [Twain’s emphasis] know? It was so long ago.”

“Don’t anybody know?”

“Oh, yes, pa knows, I reckon, and some of the other old people; but they don’t know now what the row was about in the first place.”

Aside from eschewing the opportunity for solemn contemplation upon a topic, Nationalism’s polemical approach deprives its opposition of its humanity for, as Orwell states, “[When] [l]oyalty is involved, and so pity ceases to function,” before adding, “Nationalism is power-hunger (sic) tempered by self-deception. Every nationalist is capable of the most flagrant dishonesty, but he is alsożsince he is conscious of serving something bigger than himself — unshakeably (sic) certain of being in the right,” which is seconded by American philosopher Fredy Perlman’s citation in “The Continuing Appeal of Nationalism” that the ideology evokes a sense of superiority in its hosts by way of xenophobia. Like racism, Nationalism arbitrarily selects whom it deems valuable as Spanish cellist Pablo Casals makes clear in his rhetorical inquiry within Joys and Sorrows: Reflections, “The love of one’s country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?” Instead of a cosmopolitan, egalitarian outlook, Nationalism’s narrow, knowingly superficial emphasis permits it to discriminate at the cost of cultural understanding and, in the event of war, human lives. For example, before the ethical ills of outsourcing were brought to light, the slogan “Buy American” was trumpeted with the insinuation that, upon the hierarchy of importance, the American economy was — by default — above that of foreign markets. Granted, in so doing, the act of purchasing American goods would help to ensure lower unemployment rates, fewer taxes, and a sense of nationalistic pride, yet — given that the United States is one of the wealthiest countries in the world — at the expense of the inhabitants of other countries merely because they were not American.

A Nationalist’s steadfast provincial fervor frequently extends beyond any political concern and reaches disparaging, absolute proportions. Orwell observes, “[ ... ] he [the Nationalist] will generally claim superiority for it [his or her country] not only in military power and political virtue, but in art, literature, sport, structure of the language, the physical beauty of the inhabitants, and perhaps even in climate, scenery and cooking.” At first, such a person’s culpability seems doubled-sided for, from a psychological perspective, the thought of being wrong, even vicariously via association, is mentally unbearable, especially after an individual has invested one’s time and energy in defending a cause, which is why Orwell reports that “[p]eople of strongly nationalistic outlook [often] perform [this] sleight of hand without being conscious of dishonesty.” Yet, in lieu of one’s Particularism and regardless of whether one’s motives for mental defense are conscious or subconscious, few proponents of Nationalism can state they are cognizant of even a small minority of the facets which comprise the rival’s cultural-historic plight, thus have no litmus upon which to base such value judgments. Worse yet, such individuals consequently fail to exhibit concern for what is being forsaken in turn for what is being automatically assumed to be of greater value, all of which fashions a forum for hegemony wherein one nation presumptuously decrees that another country’s principles, culture, and customs are illegitimate, which thereby absolves its inhabitants of the obligation to attempt to gain insight and understanding in hopes of achieving tolerance — while saying nothing of acceptance — of other ideas. As such, a nation can authorize entering a foreign sovereignty and instilling its own precepts because, at the utterance that the converse would be equally jingoistic, the Nationalist will almost always state that validation for such action lies in his or her country’s innate “correctness,” thus intuitively supporting the concept of universal standardization on his or her country’s behalf.

Under Nationalism, the Dutch door of empathy is therefore forbidden to open, not just in one direction, but both. This is because Nationalism’s presumptuousness forms a homogenous exclusivity and self-satisfaction which blocks access inward as well as outward, that is, most every opportunity to understand the Nationalist’s perspective. This conveniently allows the Nationalist to state of any, not opponent, but — literally — foreigner that meaningful elucidation of his or her country’s ideals are futile because any external attempt to comprehend them is, by ideological protocol, an inevitably vain one because the inquisitor, by definition, cannot be part of the group and, more importantly, cannot harbor Nationalistic sentiments for any other country other than one’s own. On this, in “European Unity and its Vicissitudes,” Latvian philosopher Isaiah Berlin states, “It is a belief in the unique mission of a nation, as being intrinsically superior to the goals or attributes of whatever is outside it; so that if there is a conflict between my nation and other men, I am obligated to fight for my nation no matter at what cost to other men; and if the others resist, that is no more than one would expect from beings brought up in an inferior culture, educated by, or born of, inferior persons, who cannot ex hypothesi understand the ideals that animate my nation and me.”

Additionally, a person may fly a country’s flag or don a shirt which simply states “American” and such action evades the illogic of proudly announcing one’s pride for happenstance occurrence, i.e., he or she was born in America (for such analogously legitimizes brandishing other declarative terms of chance, such as “Male,” “Norwegian,” or “Born Rich,” all to little ado) because the individual may proclaim that he or she is merely honoring one’s national history. Referring back to Harris’s citation concerning polarized, subjective readings of circumstance, such historic gratification is merited given that Nationalism demands a cultural mythos be created and sustained so as to make its audience approve of a country’s past actions (often under the precept of morale), thus creating a Machiavellian legacy of Right, thereby making it all the more difficult to humor the possibility thatżsince the country in question has never willingly committed an illżit may currently be doing so. In American elementary schools, Christopher Columbus is portrayed as admirable yet, as American historian Howard Zinn relays in A People’s History of the United States, like all humans, the explorer housed more than his fair share of virtues as well as vices. Obviously, if it were freely taught that Columbus was not the first person to cite the New World and that his initial thoughts upon viewing the native populace for the first time was enslavement, such — though fair to historical checks and balances — would nonetheless provide a less-than-gallant image of the country’s beginnings. Of course, should a failure somehow arise where journalistic omission is prohibited, there exists the aforementioned scapegoat which, in Zinn’s case the — albeit conveniently relative — subjectivity of the recording of history, which allows the Nationalistic slate to remain unblemished. Furthermore, linguistic manipulation occurs with the routinely incorporated Nationalistic terms “Motherland,” “Fatherland,” and “Homeland,” which, by etymological connotation, implies that a familial correlation (and obligation) naturally exists between an individual and his or her country.³ For Americans, a theological/paternal-national amalgamation is present in the country’s national anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner,” with the line, “And this be our motto: ‘In God is our trust!’” Moreover, and as cited by Billig, many American schools open each day by having their students recite the “Pledge of Allegiance,” which implies that other students — within the country as well as abroad — are doing likewise. As such, given Nationalism’s polarity and disparity regarding loyalty to other countries, this subtly inculcates an antagonism in the students’ minds in respect to the inhabitants of other nations.

Schizophrenia is commonly evidenced by megalomania, a biased worldview in favor of the individual, an inability to admit and assume guilt, atop sporadic-to-frequent delusions, the latter often appearing in the guise of auditory hallucinations. In this respect, it should be no surprise that a flawed theory grounded upon the arbitrary principles of land division and citizenry catalyzes its proponents to commit irrational acts, for Nationalism instills in its adherents each and every schizophrenic symptom: an unsubstantiated sense of self-worth via the provision of a perpetually positive evaluation of circumstances (and, in the rare case it cannot, provides a seemingly viable scapegoat for blame so as to avoid harboring guilt) and the humoring of ideas which a person decrees worthy while unrepentantly permitting the dismissal of others due to a projected unease with oneself. The cure as outlined by George Orwell?

“As for the nationalistic loves and hatreds that I have spoken of, they are part of the make-up of most of us, whether we like it or not. Whether it is possible to get rid of them I do not know, but I do believe that it is possible to struggle against them, and that this is essentially a moral effort” and “It is a question first of all of discovering what one really is, what one’s own feelings really are, and then of making allowance for the inevitable bias. If you hate and fear Russia, if you are jealous of the wealth and power of America, if you despise Jews, if you have a sentiment of inferiority towards the British ruling class, you cannot get rid of those feelings simply by taking thought. But you can at least recognise that you have them, and prevent them from contaminating your mental processes.”