Introducing the American Spirit

by Edward Alfred Steiner

After all, though, the best thing a nation or race has to bequeath to its children is not always handed down upon the racial channel. I think it is the Apostle Paul who discovered this long ago, and his missionary propaganda among the Gentiles is based upon his belief that they are not all Israelites who are of the circumcision. His converts became Israelites through adoption, through their appreciation of the Jewish Spirit which came to its full fruitage in Jesus of Nazareth.

I once heard Max Nordeau say: “Es gibt zweierlei Juden: auch Juden und Bauch Juden;” which freely translated means: “There are two kinds of Jews: those of the spirit and those of the stomach.” The taste for Kosher Wurst and Gefülte Brust is inheritable to the tenth generation; but one is not always born with the passion for righteousness, the love of justice and the thirst for God. To these one must rather be born again, and the same thing is true of the American. There are Americans who have thrown overboard their spiritual inheritance, who have expatriated themselves because they could not live in the Puritan atmosphere of New England; but to whom a Sunday in the Riviera is not fully radiant, unless upon the rose-laden atmosphere there comes wafted the fragrance of codfish balls.

The Herr Director reminded the company of the fact that I was the most “Unausstehlicher Americaner” he had ever met; to which the editor responded that he knew one who was if anything worse than myself—a newspaper man, Jacob Riis.

“Can a nation feel secure, having to put the keeping of its Spirit into the hands of aliens?” some one asked; and what would happen in case of a conflict between the United States of America and the native country of even such thorough Americans as Jacob Riis and myself? At that time the answer was not as difficult as it is now, since there has been the possibility of such a conflict, and slumbering love of native country has been awakened by the roar of cannon and the noisier and deadlier war carried on by the press.

It has been a very trying time for those of us who have been called “hyphenated Americans”; but I doubt that the German or Austrian hyphen has been more in evidence than that which we are pleased to call Anglo-Saxon.

I can say that in spite of the fact that my native country precipitated the conflict, I felt no thrill of patriotism when Austrian troops invaded Serbia, and frequently wonder whether I have not suffered some moral deterioration, because through all these stirring times I have remained fairly rational. I have never condoned Austria’s treatment of the Slavs, nor Germany’s invasion of Belgium; I have not gloried in their victories, but I have suffered alike for all my fellow mortals who are involved in this most disastrous conflict. I know myself always human first, and a loyal American next. In fact, never before have I loved my adopted country as much as now, never did I have for it so profound a respect, nor a deeper realization of the blessing of our democracy, imperfect as it is.

The Herr Director insisted that we could not count on the loyalty of our immigrated citizens in case of war with their respective countries, especially as they are so frequently dealt with unjustly by our courts and exploited by our industries. The editor thought that the danger to the United States did not lie in the lack of loyalty in our new citizens, but rather in the general smugness of the average American, and in our unpreparedness for war.

The conversation drifted into a discussion of militarism, a subject which has become painfully familiar since, and he said that although the American is a fighter he is not a militarist, nor in danger of becoming one; and that personally, he, in common with all sane Americans, believed that the country ought to be prepared to protect itself and defend its national honor.

“That’s what we all say,” the Herr Director remarked. When the whole company laughed, he felt hurt, and it took me a long time to explain to him that he had accidentally stumbled onto a bit of American slang, which he had used most innocently, but aptly.

I wanted to know just what the editor meant by preparedness for war and just when a nation’s honor was so damaged that nothing but war would restore it. There seemed to be no time left to have this question answered, and as there was some danger that we would separate with this important subject upon our minds and perhaps interfering with our digestion, I asked whether in conclusion I might tell another ethnological anecdote, which would illustrate my need of light upon that question of preparedness for war. To this they all assented if I could vouch for its being as good as the others. I thought it was better because I was sure it was true, and the joke was on me. Every one settled down expectantly except the Herr Director who never relishes my stories, having a fine collection of his own which he tells remarkably well.