‘For somber waves of grain’

America is an unhappy nation. Get beyond the rhetoric, platitudes and hyperbole that goes with being American – all the stuff we feel obligated to say as citizens – and our heavy-heartedness is evident today.

I didn’t say we’re not the greatest nation. I said we’re an unhappy nation.

This isn’t about your “private happiness” or mine. That’s one thing; our collective or national happiness are quite another. Where the latter is concerned, we are edgy, temperamental, uncooperative, discouraged, pessimistic and overwhelmed at present. In short, we’re depressed.

This business of happiness is heavy stuff once you get beyond the fluff. It’s more than the sticky, sweet sentiment of a Hallmark card. Here’s what I mean. Consider that your private happiness might actually be a factor in the determination of national happiness or the lack of it since the question can be asked: Is happiness possible for everyone? And what exactly is happiness? Is happiness “the” good – the one goal to be sought above all others – or is it “a” good? Is happiness a consequence or a condition? Is it, as some philosophers have argued, the sum of goods that results in a person wanting nothing else and having all his or her desires met, or, as others have argued, is happiness deeper – the result of a well-ordered soul or seeing one’s duty through? And, isn’t it possible to be happy with all the wrong things, which begs the question of whether that’s true happiness at all?

In spite of the complexities in happiness, I’ll stick to my simple-minded declaration that we are an unhappy nation. As proof, I could cite evidence but I’ll rely on you to supply your own. I have a feeling you know what I’m referring to, that is, unless you’re in total denial or have numbed your consciousness with the booze and pills that so many of us need in order to deal with our private unhappiness. Or maybe you’ve been so focused on attaining personal happiness that you haven’t noticed or cared about our national condition. There’s a lot of that going around too.

Anyway, here’s some simple-minded math to go along with my simple-minded declaration: Alabama is responsible for one-fiftieth of our national unhappiness. This national condition has to do with something along the lines of ethics and justice and the lack of them; you know, like those “unalienable” rights the Declaration of Independence talks about. Those are different from “civil” rights, which the state – nation – confers. Unalienable rights are the rights that come with being a human being. A nation that doesn’t respect those is destined to be sad or, eventually, nonexistent.

This national malaise we’re in and the factors that have caused it have produced a shift in me that I have only recently recognized and, frankly, found surprising. Actually, I’d call it a “revival” of sorts, although it isn’t the type of spiritual experience that most Deep South religionists automatically assume when they hear the r-word. No, this is more about the vision of what Jesus called the “city set on a hill” in the Sermon on the Mount; that “New Jerusalem” the Book of Revelation for one envisions.

Plato had a vision akin to that in his “Republic.” St. Augustine had his “City of God” and another Christian, Sir Thomas More, called his “Utopia.” John Bunyan had his “Pilgrim” trying to get to the “Celestial City.”

I find myself hoping as never before that out there somewhere is that visionary city or place of last resort where justice, ethics and respect for natural rights count; where things are recalibrated and brought into line and where what is grossly ignored here comes into full play and counts for something there.

John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan both used that imagery of the “city set on a hill” in reference to America; Kennedy did so over 50 years ago and Reagan over 20 years ago. It seems to me a lot has changed since then. For me, America at this moment in time has lost much of its brightness. As a citizen of this state and nation, I’m not happy with what’s going on.

Bob Morgan is a retired journalist and author.