A shared sense of identity is the tie that binds in US

On a recent trip to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, I observed several plaques on the County Court House

On a recent trip to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, I observed several plaques on the County Court House. One in particular caught my eye, writes Anthony O'Halloran

It reminded those who would take time out to read such things that the phrase "under God" was only added to the pledge of allegiance just over half a century ago.

Added in 1954, it was very much a creature of the cold war mentality. Given that the addition was designed to create internal unity against an external enemy, it is deeply ironic that in contemporary America, the pledge of allegiance has become a deeply divisive internal issue.

No more than a block from the County Court House, one will discover Pittsburgh's most famous hotel: the William Penn. In 1681, King Charles II granted a charter to William Penn. This charter gave birth to the state of Pennsylvania, which Penn named after his father. In 1682, William Penn published his famous First Frame of Government.

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Cited as an embryonic example of constitutionalism, it sought to apply the principle of limited government. Yet it should be remembered that Penn was a devout Quaker. Much of his political life was informed and shaped by the Quaker religion.

A century later in neighbouring Philadelphia, the founding fathers adopted a decidedly secular federal constitution. This position was consolidated by the first amendment of 1791. However, it is a mistake to presume that American politics and society are inherently secular. Nothing could be further from reality.

Most famously, the 1776 Declaration of Independence combines both natural law and social contract law understandings of basic civil rights. The declaration clearly envisages that "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" are conferred by the Creator and are as such antecedent to positive law.

When I attended an inter-denominational Christian service in a southern Illinois town, the contrast with Ireland could hardly be greater. The pastor announced that increasing numbers made it necessary to provide an extra service on Sundays. The age profile of the congregation was very young.

There was a clear sense that congregation members took their participation seriously. It was clearly not an ordinary type of participation. None of this will surprise readers who have visited the American midwest.

The church is a key social and community space in many midwestern towns. For many people the church is synonymous with community. Typically the church is active seven days a week.

It runs a whole host of events including youth discos, summer camps, barbecues and seasonal suppers. Of crucial importance are Bible classes, where students are exposed to a rigorous programme of study. By their mid-teens students will have acquired a very good grounding in scripture.

As the Darwinism versus creationism debate intensifies, it should therefore not surprise readers that almost half of all Americans consistently subscribe to the latter explanation. In other words, Genesis is accepted literally, while Darwin's theory of evolution is dismissed as an un-Christian scientific doctrine.

Bearing this background in mind, the marriage between religion and politics in contemporary America may not seem so remarkable. However, what is remarkable is how so called religious-cultural issues have come to dominate political discourse in the United States. These issues include abortion, gay marriage, prayer in public schools, Darwinism and, as previously mentioned, the pledge of allegiance.

To say that these issues are divisive would be a gross understatement. In truth, the American polity is deeply polarised.

Liberals and conservatives are so far apart on these issues that compromise and reasoned discourse is impossible.

One consequence is that economic issues often appear very low on the political agenda. Liberals suggest that this is a very deliberate strategy by the Republican Party. Deliberate or not, issues of redistribution and equality rarely get a hearing. There is a strong sense that cultural issues will become more and more decisive in shaping election outcomes.

In this current political climate it is hardly surprising that liberals are deeply alienated by the rhetoric and actions of the right. Liberals are particularly critical of the fundamentalist Christian right, whom they accuse of creating a poisonous and venomous political atmosphere.

This is by no means the first time I encountered such strong feelings from liberals. Politics in the United States does not generate "mere" disagreement. Rather the divisions are deep, profound and strongly ideological.

If liberals are alienated by the Republican right, they are totally disillusioned by an allegedly inept Democratic Party. What was most noticeable during my recent trip to the States was how embedded these feelings have become. One lifelong "Yellow Dog" (diehard) Democrat I spoke to had just resigned from the party, citing disillusionment and frustration.

Liberals have little or no faith left in the party. Accusing party elites of dancing to the Republican tune, liberals yearn for the emergence of an energetic and confident leadership.

Interestingly, liberals are particularly critical of the Clinton-led Democratic Leadership Committee. The DLC, which advocates a right-of-centre policy platform, incurred the wrath of many liberals I spoke to. They blame the DLC for much of the current party malaise.

It is interesting to note that Hillary Clinton's association with this group has clearly damaged her in the eyes of grassroots democrats.

In overall terms, the Democratic Party has a lot of work to do to reassure its core liberal base. It remains to be seen if the party can rise to the challenge. One thing is very clear. Both Democrats and Republicans will face increasing apathy and indifference on the electorate's part.

I was struck by the fact that the Iraq war is not resonating with the public at large. Much of the public commentary is elite-centred. The wife of a recently returned soldier was clearly anxious about developments. Her husband had several narrow escapes during his tour of duty.

Understandably, her primary concern was her husband's safety rather than the bigger political picture.

How can this detachment be explained? Part of it is due to the fact that Americans work very hard indeed. This is particularly true in respect of those from a working-class background. Time and time again I stand in awe at the energy of hard-working Americans.

Louise, for example - a paralegal student and mother of one - worked for a lawyer by day and in a bar by night. Combining two jobs, study, motherhood and the responsibility of owning a new house must have stretched her to the limit. Louise's experiences would be very typical of her contemporaries. This manic-like lifestyle does not give individuals much time for political reflection, let alone meaningful civic engagement. Day-to-day survival, by necessity, becomes the priority.

What of the future? One of the United States's greatest single achievements was the creation of a common overarching civic identity. This overarching identity has been able to accommodate many diverse sub-identities.

An interesting question arises. Will the deep-seated divisions in contemporary American politics damage the republic's unity?

Prima facie, the answer may appear to be yes. However, this is to underestimate the robustness and deep-rooted nature of the republic's common identity.

In this regard, the American republic clearly remains a United States. Talk of a disunited States is therefore rather premature.

Anthony O' Halloran is a research fellow with the department of government, University College Cork. He was previously a visiting Fulbright Scholar at the department of political science, Southern Illinois University at Carbondale