Patriotism, Nationalism and the Measles of Mankind

Patriotism, Nationalism and the Measles of Mankind

✍️ Author’s Note

This reflection grew from a deceptively simple question: Are you patriotic?

In an age where nationalism resurfaces across continents and political rhetoric hardens, the distinction between love of country and exaltation of nation deserves renewed attention. This piece is not a rejection of belonging, but an attempt to define it more carefully — and perhaps more humanely.

—WJJH

Are you patriotic? What does being patriotic mean to you?

Letters to the Prompt

The prompt asked whether I am patriotic.

It is one of those deceptively simple questions — rather like asking whether one prefers tea or coffee. In reality, it touches on history, identity, memory, and occasionally blood.

Let me begin cautiously.

Nationalism has never appealed to me. I have long been sympathetic to Albert Einstein’s remark that it is an infantile disease — the measles of mankind. It spreads easily, especially in uncertain times, and rarely improves the patient’s judgment.

Patriotism, however, is more complicated.

The word patriot entered English in the 17th century, derived from the French patriote, and ultimately from the Greek patrios — “of one’s father.” Nationalism appeared much later, toward the end of the 18th century. In their early usage, the two terms overlapped. Both referred to affection for one’s country.

History, however, has drawn a distinction.

Patriotism suggests love for or devotion to one’s country.
Nationalism adds something more: the elevation of one nation above others, the insistence that its interests must prevail regardless of consequence.

It is this comparative instinct — this urge to exalt — that has so often turned affection into aggression.

Voltaire once observed:

“It is lamentable that to be a good patriot one must become the enemy of the rest of mankind.”

Arthur Schopenhauer was even less charitable:

“The cheapest sort of pride is national pride.”

One need not fully endorse their severity to recognise the warning.

Frankly, dear prompt, neither nationalism nor overt displays of patriotism have ever stirred my blood.

I am Dutch by birth, European by choice, and — somewhat unfashionably — a citizen of what we like to call a global village. If I possess patriotism, it is not territorial but humanistic.

When Muhammad Ali refused to serve in Vietnam, he was accused of betraying his country. Yet one might argue that he was loyal to a deeper moral conviction. Patriotism, it seems, comes in different colours.

Of course, I feel affinity with the Netherlands. I appreciate the sobriety of its Calvinist heritage, the pragmatic spirit, the light over the polders, the canals reflecting a modest sky. I take pride in certain achievements — in art, in commerce, in moments of tolerance.

But pride must walk alongside honesty. A mature nation does not celebrate its Rembrandts while forgetting its colonial shadows.

When I was twenty and serving in the Dutch Air Force, stationed in Germany during the Cold War, perhaps I felt closer to conventional patriotism. Yet even then, flag-waving left me unmoved.

As Muhammad Ali once remarked:

“If a man at fifty sees the world the same as he did at twenty, he has wasted thirty years of his life.”

Let alone sixty.

The more one travels, the more one realises that people are not fundamentally different. Different languages, certainly. Different cuisines, undoubtedly. But the same anxieties, the same aspirations, the same tenderness toward their children.

Why, then, should I believe that the accident of my birthplace makes my country superior to another?

There are many rivers of civilisation. They all stream toward the same sea.

So am I patriotic?

If patriotism means caring for the place that shaped me, defending its democratic principles, and holding it morally accountable — then perhaps quietly so.

If it means exalting my nation above others, or defining myself through comparison — then no.

My loyalty is not to banners or slogans.
It is to conscience.

And conscience, fortunately, does not wave.

July, 2026

📌Blog Excerpt

Is patriotism devotion — or comparison? In this reflection, I explore the difference between patriotism and nationalism, drawing on Einstein, Voltaire, and Muhammad Ali to argue for a quieter loyalty — one grounded not in flags, but in conscience.