Ages ago, I traveled overland from Europe to Nepal: the Orient Express train from Munich to Istanbul, a boat through the Black Sea, and from there a medley of local buses and trains. For much of the journey, I traveled with two Swedish grad students, Anders and Soba, a pair of eccentrics on their way to Kashmir to fish for trout.
They loved to dump on America, of course (it was the Vietnam era), and our national anthem was one of their favorite targets. “Bombs exploding, a burning fort, rockets ... not very positive,” Anders would start in. “Wasn’t that the war you lost to the British, when they burned your White House?” Soba, a deadpan little gnome, would chime in: “Our national anthem says, ‘I want to live and die in the North.’ Nothing about war.”
They would both laugh. I didn’t remind them that their country stayed neutral in World War II, and sold thousands of tons of steel to Nazi Germany to construct tanks, bullets, planes and bombs, but they did have a point: “The Star-Spangled Banner” is kind of single-mindedly bellicose, and to me this country is not all about war and conflict.
George Orwell, no slouch as an anti-authoritarian, wrote contemptuously of left-wing Brits who made a show of remaining seated when “God Save the King” was played publicly. You didn’t have to believe in a hallowed tradition to be respectful toward it, he believed. I always stand up when “The Star-Spangled Banner” is played, especially when I’m in places like Baghdad or Bagram, where it means something. Still, I think it kind of misrepresents our country. We’re about a lot more than wars, hopefully; when it’s performed before, say, football games, it seems to me kind of inappropriate, like tank treads on a Rose Bowl float. Why have other less bellicose and more positive candidates for our national anthem been swept aside?
Way back at the turn of the century, music professor Katherine Bates, inspired by the sweeping vistas she saw from the summit of Pikes Peak, wrote the words to “America the Beautiful.” Later, Congregational Church organist/choirmaster Augustus Ward set the words to music. A hymn of praise to the land Native Americans call “Turtle Island,” it would make a fine national anthem.
How about “God Bless America”? Its composer Irving Berlin was 5 years old when his family fled antisemitic Russia for the United States. A passionate patriot, in 1918 he enlisted in the U.S. Army to fight for his new homeland in World War I; he actually composed the song in the barracks at Camp Upton in Yaphank, New York.
It wasn’t until the brink of World War II, in 1938, that he publicly released the song; the singer Kate Smith’s version of the song instantly became a hit, rallying America and its allies. Many thought it should replace “The Star-Spangled Banner” as our national anthem, but anti-Semites campaigned successfully against it, on the grounds it was written by a Jewish immigrant: one of the saddest, most ironic incidents in our history, and something for us to ponder.
Then there’s “My Country ’Tis of Thee,” written by theology student Samuel Smith in 1832; the tune was borrowed from “God Save the King,” so it’s not 100% homegrown, and the lyrics are kind of archaic, but the sentiments are beyond reproach.
And how about Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land”? Some may complain that it's “too radical,” but as an expression of love of one’s country it can’t be beat. “The Star-Spangled Banner”’s pedigree is far from all-American. Though Francis Scott Key wrote the lyrics in Baltimore during the War of 1812, the tune is from an English drinking song named, get this, “The Anacreontic Song,” credited to Londoner John Smith. The combination didn’t become our official national anthem until 1932, by the decree of President Herbert Hoover.
I don’t know; it’s a puzzler. Perhaps we should establish a committee to look at alternatives.
Rob Schultheis has covered Afghanistan and the Middle East for Time, CBS, NPR and The New York Times. He also writes about climbing, the arts and environment from his home in Telluride. Reach him at robschultheis1@gmail.com.
