I think patriotism is all about wanting to see America better

The words of Nate Parker—“I think patriotism is all about wanting to see America better, wanting to see those who are oppressed do better and get treated better.”—resound with the ancient truth that love of country is not blind adoration, but the courage to seek justice for all its people. In this vision, patriotism is not measured by flags waved or anthems sung, but by the yearning to heal wounds, to lift burdens, to ensure that no child, no family, no citizen is cast aside. It is a love that does not flatter but labors, that does not ignore faults but seeks to mend them.

The ancients, too, spoke of such love. In the writings of Cicero, we find the idea that the highest duty of a citizen is to care for the res publica, the public thing, the commonwealth. True loyalty was not to enrich oneself at the expense of others, but to guard the dignity of the whole people. Parker’s words echo this: to be a patriot is not merely to celebrate the strengths of America, but to confront its injustices with the hope of making it better. Love of country must include love for those who suffer within it.

History offers luminous examples. Consider Abraham Lincoln, who faced a nation divided and broken by slavery. For him, patriotism was not defending the status quo, but striving to fulfill America’s promise of liberty and equality. His leadership was not about preserving comfort for the powerful, but about securing justice for the oppressed. In his Emancipation Proclamation, we see the very heart of Parker’s vision: that true patriotism is bound to the uplift of the downtrodden, for the nation is only as great as its treatment of the least among its people.

We might also recall Martin Luther King Jr., who stood not as an enemy of America, but as one of its greatest patriots. He dreamed not of tearing the nation down, but of raising it higher—toward its own creed that all men are created equal. His marches, his sermons, his cries for justice were acts of profound patriotism, for he demanded that America live up to its own ideals. He, like Parker, saw that to ignore the oppressed is to betray the nation’s soul, but to fight for their dignity is to honor it.

In Parker’s understanding, patriotism is inseparable from compassion. It is not the pride of conquest, but the humility of service. It is not measured in wealth or dominance, but in fairness and mercy. The truest loyalty to one’s nation is not silence when it errs, but the bravery to call it to repentance. A father who loves his child does not ignore the child’s faults—he guides, disciplines, and hopes for better. So too with the citizen and his country. To want it better is the deepest love.

The lesson is clear: do not mistake patriotism for blind obedience or shallow pride. True patriotism is the harder path: to work, to protest, to labor for justice even when it costs comfort. To be a patriot is to refuse to abandon the oppressed, for their fate is bound to the fate of the nation. The strength of a country is not in the power of the few, but in the well-being of the many.

Practical action flows from this wisdom. Look around you—who in your community is burdened, who is silenced, who is left behind? Stand with them. Work for fairness in schools, in workplaces, in courts. Speak truth when leaders fail to honor the people. Vote, act, and live in ways that push your nation closer to justice. Let your patriotism be visible not in words alone, but in deeds that heal divisions and uplift the oppressed.

Thus Nate Parker’s words shine like a torch passed to future generations: patriotism is not a celebration of perfection, but a devotion to progress. It is not an anthem sung with closed eyes, but a cry for justice lifted with open hands. To love one’s country is to want it better—and to labor, with courage and compassion, until all its children are treated with the dignity they deserve.