I presume most nations bestow medals and similar honors upon people who are esteemed as the most outstanding and virtuous people in their society. We certainly do in America. Who we honor says much about what we value—and implicitly, about what we do not value.
In September, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Salvatore Giunta received the Congressional Medal of Honor, America’s highest military honor. Sgt. Giunta was the first living recipient of the honor since the Vietnam War; the previous six recipients honored for heroism in Iraq or Afghanistan received the honor posthumously. Since his honor, Sgt. Giunta has been a guest of honor in Times Square on New Year’s Eve, at the Super Bowl, and undoubtedly at many other, less prominent events. Like virtually all Americans, I’m wowed by Sgt. Giunta's bravery and am grateful for his service.
The Presidential Medal of Freedom is America’s highest civilian honor. Since its establishment in the early 1960’s, hundreds of people from various fields of endeavor have received the Medal of Freedom. Honorees include several prominent figures in the struggle for African-American civil rights, as well as a few true humanitarians (e.g., Mother Teresa). The vast majority of recipients, however, have come from the political class and the entertainment industry.
I don’t care much about medals or other honors—military, civilian, or otherwise—but recent events brought this subject to the front of my mind. In the past week, three girls with the same disease as my daughter have died. Two were 13; the other was 15. At least one suffered terribly during her final weeks. Knowing what I know about their disease, I know all three displayed courage during their short lives that few of us can fathom. None of them will receive medals. I know their parents demonstrated unimaginable courage facing their children’s deaths, and in caring for them in their declining years. None of them will receive medals. Neither will the hospice workers who did their best to make those children’s final days comfortable and dignified.
My wife has given up her career to take care of our 8-year old daughter, whom she watches slowly decline, day by day, knowing what lies in store for her in the not-too-distant future. Her courage inspires me. She will never receive a medal. My daughter’s teachers, therapists and aides work hard for modest wages, going above and beyond the call of duty to ensure that my daughter and the other children in their care have every opportunity to reach their God-given potential. Like other extraordinary teachers, they contribute far more than most of us to our society. They will not receive medals. Neither will by friend who works for low pay—at great cost to her family—caring for adults with traumatic brain injuries.
Our values are clear. We value politicians. We do not value parents of terminally ill children. We value artists. We do not value those who care for the dying, unless they happen to be global celebrities (like Mother Teresa). We value movie stars. We do not value teachers. We value warriors. We do not value those who care for warriors who come home brain-damaged.
Remember this the next time a politician talks about values, or service, or other supposed virtues, then ask yourself whether their definition of virtue is the same as yours.
In September, U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Salvatore Giunta received the Congressional Medal of Honor, America’s highest military honor. Sgt. Giunta was the first living recipient of the honor since the Vietnam War; the previous six recipients honored for heroism in Iraq or Afghanistan received the honor posthumously. Since his honor, Sgt. Giunta has been a guest of honor in Times Square on New Year’s Eve, at the Super Bowl, and undoubtedly at many other, less prominent events. Like virtually all Americans, I’m wowed by Sgt. Giunta's bravery and am grateful for his service.
The Presidential Medal of Freedom is America’s highest civilian honor. Since its establishment in the early 1960’s, hundreds of people from various fields of endeavor have received the Medal of Freedom. Honorees include several prominent figures in the struggle for African-American civil rights, as well as a few true humanitarians (e.g., Mother Teresa). The vast majority of recipients, however, have come from the political class and the entertainment industry.
I don’t care much about medals or other honors—military, civilian, or otherwise—but recent events brought this subject to the front of my mind. In the past week, three girls with the same disease as my daughter have died. Two were 13; the other was 15. At least one suffered terribly during her final weeks. Knowing what I know about their disease, I know all three displayed courage during their short lives that few of us can fathom. None of them will receive medals. I know their parents demonstrated unimaginable courage facing their children’s deaths, and in caring for them in their declining years. None of them will receive medals. Neither will the hospice workers who did their best to make those children’s final days comfortable and dignified.
My wife has given up her career to take care of our 8-year old daughter, whom she watches slowly decline, day by day, knowing what lies in store for her in the not-too-distant future. Her courage inspires me. She will never receive a medal. My daughter’s teachers, therapists and aides work hard for modest wages, going above and beyond the call of duty to ensure that my daughter and the other children in their care have every opportunity to reach their God-given potential. Like other extraordinary teachers, they contribute far more than most of us to our society. They will not receive medals. Neither will by friend who works for low pay—at great cost to her family—caring for adults with traumatic brain injuries.
Our values are clear. We value politicians. We do not value parents of terminally ill children. We value artists. We do not value those who care for the dying, unless they happen to be global celebrities (like Mother Teresa). We value movie stars. We do not value teachers. We value warriors. We do not value those who care for warriors who come home brain-damaged.
Remember this the next time a politician talks about values, or service, or other supposed virtues, then ask yourself whether their definition of virtue is the same as yours.
) simply because I had no other choice. Whether it's caring for an ailing elder, a disabled child, or another loved one, most of us rise to the occasion when duty calls. Maybe there's a good reason we don't get medals for that.