Forty years ago, I read an account of some Americans helping several Germans escape East Berlin by passing them off as U.S. citizens. They provided passports and other papers to the Germans, and outfitted them with Western-style clothing. As the date for their escape loomed, one of the Germans said to their handlers, “Now, you must teach us how to walk like an American.”
A couple years later, near the end of the 1980s when the Soviet Union was on life support, the meaning of that request became clearer to me. In Waynesville, N.C., where my wife and I operated a bed-and-breakfast, the local Dayco plant, a manufacturer of rubber parts for automobiles, hosted three factory workers from the Soviet city of Ufa. The three men spoke little to no English, and were accompanied by a female translator from Moscow.
While studying the machinery and operations of the Dayco plant, the Russians were housed for a month in our bed and breakfast. During their stay, friends said to us several times, “I passed your Russians on Main Street today,” or “I spotted your Russians near the courthouse.” When we asked how they could identify these pedestrians as “our Russians,” they explained that their walk was the giveaway. They stuck close together, slightly stooped, stiff-gaited, eyes and faces guarded and wary.
In short, they wouldn’t have made it through that East Berlin checkpoint.
Our public deportment, how we carry ourselves, reflects our spirit and the spirit of our culture. A person burdened with troubles, or a clinically depressed man or woman, often shuffles slowly along, hunched beneath a rucksack of anxieties. Similarly, tyrannical governments that shackle freedom of speech, thought and action produce citizens whose posture mirrors their oppressed hearts and minds.
In the United States, the last four years have given us a taste of this oppression. The federal and state COVID policies – the lockdowns, the closure of churches, schools and businesses, the subsequent isolation, the forced vaccines – caused an upswing in depression and more generally, widespread anxiety and unhappiness. Other officials concocted and enforced speech codes, smearing anyone who dared speak against official political dogmas and banishing individuals and organizations from social media for this same offense. Intimidated by this censure, millions of Americans began keeping their thoughts and opinions to themselves.
The effects of this oppression could be seen everywhere. A case in point: for the last four years or so, the folks I pass in my local grocery store seem much less happy than from earlier years. The inflationary prices of foodstuffs may account for the unsmiling, often grim faces I see there, but I would contend that their sour looks and bent postures also stem from a general mood of misery and gloom. Bombarded by 24-hour news and social media, much of it opposed to common sense, we gave way to intimidation and tucked away our birthright of free speech and liberty.
Until now.
The election of Donald Trump to the presidency and his promise of “a golden age” is bringing powerful winds of change not only to our federal government, but to our culture at large. Many Americans – and by no means are all of them MAGA supporters – have felt their apprehension about the future give way to hope. A CBS News Poll shows a 10% increase among voters who feel more hopeful going into 2025 than they were when approaching 2024.
And a renewed sense of liberty is stripping away the gags forced upon us. Another piece of anecdotal evidence: A friend of mine who was in Washington during the inauguration told me that the sidewalks were swarming with jubilant, MAGA-hatted supporters of the new president. Before the November election, wearing those hats in public was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. That river of red hats alone, she told me, was worth her trip to D.C.
Optimism about the future is returning. Pride in the country and its accomplishments, past and present, are making a comeback. More and more, mainstream Americans are waking up and deciding they’re done with the bullying and radicalism of the recent past.
We’ve spent enough time on our knees. Let’s get to our feet and walk like Americans again.
Jeff Minick is a father of four and grandfather to many. A former history, literature, and Latin teacher, Jeff now writes prolifically for The Epoch Times, American Essence Magazine, and several other publications.
This culture article was made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal, a project of 1819 News. To comment on this article, please email culture@1819news.com. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News.
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