Because Pride Goeth Before the Fall

One of our culture’s dispiriting trends since the 1960s has been a growing insistence that one be proud of this or that superficial quality or demographic label.

Paul O’Brien | August 28, 2026

One of our culture’s dispiriting trends since the 1960s has been a growing insistence that one be proud of this or that superficial quality or demographic label. I recall the 1968 Olympics, when Tommie Smith and John Carlos stood at the podium, having won the Gold and Bronze, respectively, in the men’s 200-meter sprint. As an American 10-year-old, I was proud of my countrymen for the feat. But the athletes had a statement to make and will be forever remembered for the “Black Power salute” on the Olympic podium, and not their tremendous athletic prowess. I remember something else, though: when Howard Cosell later asked Smith if he was proud to be an American, the elite runner responded that he was proud to be a black American. Both, question and answer, bothered me.

At times, my memory is too good. Finishing up my 68th trip around the sun, I nonetheless recall my potty training. It was then that I learned what it meant to be proud. “Are you proud of me?” I would ask when it came time for my mom or dad to attend to the necessary hygienic details. It never failed to elicit an affirmative reply. And it, in turn, made me proud of… ahem… my accomplishment.

As I grew, my parents instructed me on the finer points of both hygiene and pride. The former took care of itself without much fanfare, as you might imagine. I found the latter, though, to be far more complicated. They told me, for example, that it was not at all a bad thing to be proud of my big brother when he was elected president of his high school student body. And it was admirable to be proud of my remarkably athletic sister when she excelled on the softball field. But neither my brother nor my sister, they........

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