As our nation is fighting over the national anthem, I think of Bill Keys, a man who showed his love for his country by remaining seated.
But first some quick history. “The Star-Spangled Banner” was introduced at baseball games during the 1918 World Series as a patriotic response to the nation’s entry into World War I. (At the time, professional football was a minor sport.) It didn’t become a fixture at regular season games until World War II. And even then a couple of clubs held out, believing it was too special a ritual for every run-of-the-mill game. The anthem didn’t become a universal part of every game until the Vietnam War.
It’s not surprising that there is such a strong connection between “The Star-Spangled Banner” ritual before sporting contests and the nation’s wars. After all, the song itself is about war, and athletic contests are thought of by some as a proxy for actual combat.
I love baseball — in no small part because it feels less like mortal combat than other sports — and when I go to the games and the anthem is played I dutifully take off my hat, stand and face the flag. I do not sing because my inability to carry even a simple tune (much less the impossible anthem) could be regarded as disrespect bordering on treason by anyone unlucky enough to be within earshot).
Still, in my heart I remain sitting with my hat firmly affixed on my head. If I were on the field, I might take a knee. And that’s not because I hate my country or our military (just the opposite), and it’s not even because I agree with Colin Kaepernick’s political statement (though I do).
No, I’d rather not stand because of the pressure to do that very thing. Nobody likes to be coerced. It’s the same reason I stay away from street protests. I don’t like chanting and carrying signs even if I agree with the cause.
But a street protest is a choice. You can show up or not. When you’re at a ball game you’re there to have fun and eat food that is bad for you, not to make a political statement one way or the other. But you get a sense during the national anthem that if you were not to go along with the crowd you would be the target of hostility, in the form of dirty looks, words or even actions. I don’t feel like I’m springing to my feet out of love of country, but more like I’m forced to do so out of fear of personal injury. Staying seated would be an obvious political statement, but joining the crowd feels like a political statement at odds with my own politics.
That’s because the anthem and aggressive displays of patriotism have been adopted by right-wing nationalists, like Donald Trump and his supporters, as bludgeons against anyone who doesn’t profess love for their idea of America. When people stand and sing the anthem, it feels like an angry shout, an in-your-face, love-it-or-leave-it kind of chauvinistic ugliness.
Which brings me to Bill Keys. Keys was a widely respected Madison West High School English teacher and later a member of the Madison school board. While he was there the board, in 2001, tied itself in knots over the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of every school day. They briefly dropped it because some students’ religious or other beliefs prevented them from reciting it.
Right-wing radio here and across the country took up the cause and an angry mob showed up at a special board meeting. At the start of the meeting the mob (which would have never bothered to get off the couch to address the board over something as frivolous as the actual quality of their kids’ education) rose to its feet and screamed the pledge at the board members on the stage. All but two members of the board, Shwaw Vang and Bill Keys, did what I probably would have done: They jumped to their feet and chanted the pledge along with the masses.
Keys would later cast the lone vote against reversing the board’s previous decision. The English teacher showed that he understood more about the essence of America than most everyone else in the room, and while it might not have been quite the same as storming a beach, he showed uncommon courage.
America gave the world one of its greatest gifts when it produced the First Amendment. (And we didn’t waste any time messing things up with the Second.) Any country can be nationalistic. The Nazis were pretty good at that. What makes America exceptional is that we fold freedom of expression and dissent into the very definition of what it means to be American.
Donald Trump and his “USA!” screaming mobs are lousy Americans. Bill Keys and Colin Kaepernick are among our finest.
Dave Cieslewicz is the former mayor of Madison. He blogs as Citizen Dave at Isthmus.com.
