by Ashutosh Jogalekar
This Fourth of July I find myself feeling more patriotic than I have in years. That may strike many people as strange, even tone-deaf, given the political moment we are living through. I understand the reaction. Yet the feeling is genuine, and it rests on two convictions that have only grown stronger over the two decades I have lived in this country.
I arrived in the United States more than twenty years ago as an immigrant drawn by the same things that have drawn millions before me: the promise of American science and technology, and the promise of American freedom. My father, a professor, was a great admirer of Franklin Roosevelt and Dwight Eisenhower. He regularly told me stories about them, and ones about Jefferson and Edison and George Washington Carver. World War II was another huge interest of my father’s, and he vividly communicated to me the storming of the beaches at Normandy, the dogged resistance at the Bulge, the decency of American GIs in dealing with enemy combatants. Later, when I was in high school and college, I found myself laughing until I cried while reading “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman”. And reading Richard Rhodes’s “The Making of the Atomic Bomb” became a turning point. It told the story of brilliant scientists – Enrico Fermi, Albert Einstein, Hans Bethe – who fled fascist Europe and found in America a beacon of freedom and opportunity. Those images were deeply inspiring. America was deeply inspiring.
When I came here to pursue a Ph.D. in chemistry, then postdoctoral work, and eventually a career as a scientist, I carried that picture with me. Over time I built a life and a family here. Now, as I teach my own children about the same heroes my father taught me, I also try to give them American history in full – its flaws, its failures, its betrayals, and its stubborn, unfinished promise. Importantly, I tell them that this country is not great because it has no flaws, but that it is great in spite of those flaws – and that the same is true of the men who founded it. There is no contradiction between loving your country and acknowledging its flaws. What is wrong is in believing that those flaws make your country irredeemable and steeped in original sin.
Twenty years later, after everything that has happened in between, I remain as hopeful about this country as I was on the day I arrived. Read more »





Where I live in Colorado there are unstable elements of the landscape that sometimes fail. In severe cases, millions of tons of rock, silt, sand, and mud can shift, leading to massive landslides. The signs aren’t always evident because the breakdown in the structural geology often happens quietly underground. The invisible changes can take hundreds or thousands of years, but when a landslide takes place, it is fast and violent. And the new landscape that comes after is unrecognizable.

