There's intense national feeling in America that could be called

The words of Michael Ignatieff—“There’s intense national feeling in America that could be called patriotism.”—strike like a quiet observation, yet behind their simplicity lies a profound truth. He speaks of a national feeling, an emotion not born of reason alone but flowing from the deep well of shared history, sacrifice, and aspiration. This feeling, when it rises in the hearts of millions, is what we call patriotism. It is not merely pride in symbols, nor the chanting of slogans, but the deep, unshakable sense that one belongs to a greater whole, and that the destiny of that whole is bound up with one’s own life.

Ignatieff, a man who has studied nations and conflicts across the world, recognized in America this extraordinary current of intense feeling. It is the power that unites strangers under a single flag, that inspires sacrifice in times of trial, that transforms diverse peoples into one people. Yet it is a force both noble and dangerous, for like a great river it can nourish the land or sweep it into ruin. By naming it patriotism, Ignatieff reminds us that this energy, if harnessed with wisdom, becomes the lifeblood of democracy, but if left unchecked, it can harden into division or blind zeal.

History shows us the noble face of such patriotism. When Pearl Harbor was struck in 1941, the shock and grief were met not with despair, but with an overwhelming surge of unity. Men enlisted in the millions, women took up tools in factories, children gathered scrap metal for the war effort. The entire nation became one great body, each part laboring for survival and victory. This intense national feeling was not orchestrated by decree, but rose spontaneously from the people’s hearts, proving that true patriotism cannot be manufactured; it is born from shared suffering and shared purpose.

Yet there is also a shadow to this truth. In moments of fear, intense national feeling can turn against itself. Recall the internment of Japanese Americans during the same war: suspicion overcame justice, and patriotism was invoked to justify injustice. Here we see the danger: what Ignatieff calls patriotism can, if not tempered by wisdom and compassion, become a sword turned against the very citizens it should protect. Thus, the ancients remind us—every great force must be guided by virtue, or it becomes a destroyer.

The meaning, then, is not only that patriotism exists, but that it is intense—a fire that must be tended with care. It is the duty of leaders to guide it toward honor, and the duty of citizens to guard it from corruption. Patriotism should not be reduced to blind loyalty or hostility toward outsiders; it should rise instead as a call to justice, sacrifice, and unity in the pursuit of the common good.

For us who inherit these truths, the lesson is clear: feel deeply for your nation, but think wisely about how you act in its name. Let your patriotism be not the arrogance of superiority, but the humility of service. When crises arise, do not retreat into selfishness, but rise with your fellows in shared responsibility. When injustice arises, do not excuse it in the name of patriotism, but confront it so that your nation may live up to its highest ideals.

In daily life, this means cultivating small acts of service: voting with conscience, speaking truth even when unpopular, and supporting the vulnerable in your community. It means honoring those who sacrificed before you by making your own contributions—whether in work, in service, or in kindness. This is how the intense national feeling becomes not a destructive flame, but a guiding light.

Thus, let Ignatieff’s words remain as a reminder: America holds within itself a force mighty and profound, a patriotism that binds its people in times of triumph and trial. It is for each generation to decide how this force shall be used—whether as a weapon of division, or as a sacred bond of unity and hope. May we choose the latter, and in so doing, pass on to future generations not only the name of patriotism, but its true and noble meaning.