Last Refuge Of A Scoundrel
When patriotism becomes a costume
The famous quote by Samuel Johnson would have read “Patriotifm is the laft Refuge of a Scoundrell” before the 1755 publication of A Dictionary of the English Language by the very same Samuel Johson, which standardized spelling in English. Thus “patriotifm” becomes “patriotism,” “laft” becomes “last,” and “scoundrell” becomes “scoundrel.”
Johnson wasn't attacking real love for one's country. He was attacking hypocrisy. He meant that when a dishonest person (a "scoundrel") has run out of all other ways to defend their suspicious actions, they wrap themselves in the flag to claim their motives are beyond reproach. At the time, Johnson was particularly annoyed by the "Patriot" faction in British politics, whom he viewed as agitators using the guise of liberty to cause disorder.
The phrase is as relevent today as it was then.
(As ususal, scroll for alternate genres of this song—I particularly like the barber shop quartet version.)
Lyrics
They wrap themselves in red, white, and blue
Like the flag was made for the chosen few
Talk about freedom with a fist in the air
Then build their bubble out of lies and fear
They kneel to power, they laugh at the poor
They withdraw the welcome, they dead-bolt the door
And call it “order,” call it “making us strong”
But the house they praise is what they would burn down
They want the name, but not the cost
They love the symbol, hate what it’s bought
Last refuge of a scoundrel
It’s the flag they hide behind
They say “country” like a password
While they poison what it means inside
No, you don’t get to wear her glory
While you tear up her design
Last refuge of a scoundrel
Wrapped in the stars and stripes
They curse dissent but they worship control
Want a strongman to strangle the national soul
They say “founding fathers” like a magic spell
But they’d suppress the vote and muffle liberty’s bell
What made this place a light in the storm
Was not fear of the uniform
It was the promise nobody stands above law
And the right to speak when power does wrong
They want the glory, not the grit
Draped in the flag upon which they spit
Last refuge of a scoundrel
It’s the flag they hide behind
They say “country” like a password
While they poison what it means inside
No, you don’t get to wear her glory
While you tear up her design
Last refuge of a scoundrel
Wrapped in the stars and stripes
America was never in the shouting
Never in the boot against the throat
It lives in the unfinished promise
In the widening of the vote
In the hand that pulls a stranger closer
In the truth that stands when tyrants lie
You call yourself a patriot
Yet you cheer as democracy dies
Last refuge of a scoundrel
Now the mask is wearing thin
You wave the flag above the wreckage
Of the faith you never believed in
No, you don’t get to steal the language
Of the ones who fought and died
Last refuge of a scoundrel
Wrapped in the stars and stripes
Last refuge of a scoundrel
There’s no patriot in a lie