Together, We are America
Bad Bunny and Richard Rorty and the champion Seattle Seahawks
This past Saturday, I wrote a 1,500-word essay explaining why I haven’t been posting for the last month, which I’ll now summarize in a sentence: the omnipresent fascism in America is really getting to me, and thus it’s hard to focus on—or even care about—the newest AI-related developments. It was a confession in the form of an apology. After finishing the draft, I pondered whether I should even publish it, given its frankly depressing tone and my ongoing wondering about whether I should continue to use Substack as a form of therapy.
Then on Sunday—just yesterday—my beloved Seattle Seahawks (I’m a die-hard fan, didn’t you know) won the Super Bowl. Joy. Elation. Sportsball rapture. All of the emotions that flow when your team brings home a championship: that feeling of having invested one’s energy and devotion in something larger than oneself, and then feeling that pay off in a moment of pure ecstasy. This is why I’m an unapologetic football fan. Go Hawks.
As football games go, though, Super Bowl XL will not be remembered for the gameplay itself. Real NFL aficionados can appreciate a good defensive battle, but let’s be real—it makes for lousy viewing for the casual fan. At some point, my fellow Seahawks-loving friends and I started discussing whether our field-goal kicker would be crowned Most Valuable Player. That’s not an indicator of an entertaining game.
What people will remember about yesterday’s Super Bowl is Bad Bunny’s halftime performance. I am not going to pretend to be a profound cultural critic, so let me just say: holy shit, his performance was amazing. I knew that he’d made anti-ICE statements at the Grammys a few weeks ago, so he’d already won my political affection, but I had no idea what to expect from the actual spectacle that Super Bowl halftime shows have become. For that matter, I had no idea he’d be singing exclusively in Spanish.
As musical entertainment, Bad Bunny’s performance was thrilling, sexy, fun—all the things. But I’m writing about it because of its political importance. It’s only hitting me this morning that it was the first national moment of cultural pushback against the fascism of the Trump administration. Trump’s name was never mentioned; the word “ICE” was nowhere to be found. Instead, Bad Bunny delivered two simple messages: Together, we are America and The only thing more powerful than hate is love. Unity and love—two sentiments that might seem anodyne in normal contexts—were unmistakably intended as indictments of the division and cruelty sown by the fascists currently in charge of the USA.
Can I pivot from Bad Bunny to the philosopher Richard Rorty? Let me try. The opening paragraph of Rorty’s book Achieving Our Country contains a syllogism that’s haunted me for years:
“National pride is to countries what self-respect is to individuals, a necessary condition for self-improvement… Emotional involvement with one’s country—feelings of intense shame or of glowing pride aroused by various parts of its history, and by various present-day national policies—is necessary if political deliberation is to be imaginative and productive. Such deliberation will probably not occur unless pride outweighs shame.”
It’s been a rough year to take pride in America. This is no secret: I am firmly placed on “the Left” of the American political spectrum, and in many ways, I think the existential struggle for leftists like myself is to be self-aware of the many, many historical horrors that have been—or continue to be—perpetrated within one’s country, and to feel moved to remedy them. Building this consciousness, however, takes its toll. Having knowledge of injustice, and bearing witness to its ongoing manifestation, can be radically dispiriting. (That was the theme of the essay I wrote Saturday.)
But yesterday, for 15 glorious minutes wedged between my Seahawks manhandling the Patriots, I felt national pride. I feel it still this morning. Bad Bunny represents the best of the American ideal: youthful, cross-cultural, playful—again, promoting unity above division, and love rather than hate. A nation of the Indigenous and the immigrant, where human decency and self-creation can flourish. Together, We are America, with an emphasis on WE.
(And the MAGA counterprogramming to this is a flabby Kid Rock singing about the glories of statutory rape? Get the fuck out of here.)
I believe the next 12 months in America will be our most consequential since 1860, when the election of Lincoln led to our first civil war. As much as is humanly possible, I’ve tried to steel myself for the horrors to come—the murders in Minneapolis were mere prelude. The central question is whether we will have free and fair elections, whether the democratic process that we have (imperfectly) relied upon for 250 years will endure or collapse. The last year was rough; this year will be rougher.
But I love America, and I am proud to be an American. However improbably, Bad Bunny has reminded me that, in the end, we will triumph over the fascist bastards—so long as we fight for the best of American ideals. So long as we fight to achieve our country. Which means I’m chucking that depressing essay I wrote on Saturday into the digital trash can and getting back to work.
Next week: in defense of stochastic parrots!
Now onwards towards baseball season! Go Mariners!
I just watched the halftime show this morning and loved it! I lived in Latin America for years (Ecuador, Argentina, and later Brazil). I also used to teach Spanish and Latin American literature and I have a bilingual Latina daugther (her dad is Colombian)
When I was teaching intro Spanish classes, one of the first things I'd teach my students was that "America" means the entire continent-- north and south. If I were still teaching, I'd probably show students a clip of Bad Bunny naming the countries of America.