"Patriotism has served, at different times, as widely different ends as a razor, which ought to be used in keeping your face clean and yet may be used to cut your own throat or that of an innocent person"
About this Quote
Montague likens patriotism to a razor: an instrument meant for care and order, capable of grooming the public spirit, yet equally capable of wounding or killing. The image insists that patriotism is not virtue or vice in itself. Its moral status depends on who holds it, how steady the hand, and what purpose guides the motion. A razor kept clean and used with skill is part of daily hygiene; the same blade, wielded with fear, anger, or zeal, becomes a weapon.
The context of early twentieth-century Britain gives the metaphor its bite. Montague, a Manchester Guardian journalist who volunteered for the First World War despite his age, later became one of its most eloquent critics in Disenchantment. He had seen how appeals to country could rouse genuine service and sacrifice, and also how those appeals were sharpened into propaganda, recruiting posters, and the silencing of dissent. The rhetoric of cleanliness and purity often accompanied calls to arms and to purge internal enemies, making the grooming blade into a sacrificial knife.
The constructive use of patriotism keeps a civic face clean. It is the loyalty that pays attention to the common good, accepts burdens fairly, and holds leaders accountable because the country matters. It steadies the hand for patient work: voting, volunteering, telling the truth about failures as well as successes. The destructive use turns love of country into a license to hate or to obey without question. It excuses cruelty at the borders, smears opponents as traitors, and confuses unity with uniformity. Under the spell of that misuse, people cut their own throats, trading liberties for slogans, or cut the throats of innocents whom they first recast as threats.
Montague urges adult handling of national feeling. Keep the blade sharp for honest care; lock it away from demagogues and from the parts of ourselves that crave simple enemies. The test is practical: after the stroke, does the country look cleaner, or is there blood on the floor?
The context of early twentieth-century Britain gives the metaphor its bite. Montague, a Manchester Guardian journalist who volunteered for the First World War despite his age, later became one of its most eloquent critics in Disenchantment. He had seen how appeals to country could rouse genuine service and sacrifice, and also how those appeals were sharpened into propaganda, recruiting posters, and the silencing of dissent. The rhetoric of cleanliness and purity often accompanied calls to arms and to purge internal enemies, making the grooming blade into a sacrificial knife.
The constructive use of patriotism keeps a civic face clean. It is the loyalty that pays attention to the common good, accepts burdens fairly, and holds leaders accountable because the country matters. It steadies the hand for patient work: voting, volunteering, telling the truth about failures as well as successes. The destructive use turns love of country into a license to hate or to obey without question. It excuses cruelty at the borders, smears opponents as traitors, and confuses unity with uniformity. Under the spell of that misuse, people cut their own throats, trading liberties for slogans, or cut the throats of innocents whom they first recast as threats.
Montague urges adult handling of national feeling. Keep the blade sharp for honest care; lock it away from demagogues and from the parts of ourselves that crave simple enemies. The test is practical: after the stroke, does the country look cleaner, or is there blood on the floor?
Quote Details
| Topic | Ethics & Morality |
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