Land, Legacy, and the Sound of American Identity
By Alexis Wilkins
We have been sold the propaganda, repeatedly and almost successfully, that America has no individual culture. We are hammered over and over with the claim that we are simply an identity stolen from others. While this country is a melting pot, we also come from a fabric of our own. The song “McArthur” is a collaboration penned by Hardy and sung with Tim McGraw, Eric Church, and Morgan Wallen, and I think it might be the most striking piece of American legacy music I’ve heard in a long time.
The song outlines the generational passing-down of land— from John McArthur as the original steward, to his son who fought and died in Vietnam, to his son Jones, and finally to his son Hunter. Hunter is a modern, post-graduate young man who wants to sell the land to a developer and cash the check— but with a twist at the very end. He seemingly decides against it after realizing the same thing his ancestors preached throughout the song: this land is in his blood.
In an environment obsessed with building it, changing it, and making it “better,” what are we really improving? Our existing culture has cultivated a generation of youth who can’t tell you where their food comes from, yet can tell you they’re oppressed from their high-rise apartments. They have no regard for the men who fought and died to build this country, who tilled this land, and who created the structure of the freedom we celebrate. Their understanding of history has been reduced to the phrase “old white men.”
I’m from Arkansas. I’ve heard all the redneck slander there is to hear. There are just some things the limousine liberal will never understand from the coasts. Enormous amounts of money are spent on intentional propaganda from the left telling us to hate this country— because if upcoming generations hate America, they will have no trouble destroying it. This isn’t a new attack on the youth. Progressive constructs have tried this for years, encouraging kids to hate themselves, suggesting they mutilate their bodies to the point of being unable to procreate, effectively robbing future generations of existence. This is calculated, and it is central to turning young people against American culture. The modern education system has stripped away the lessons kids need to learn about this country. History was done away with and replaced with something called “social studies.”
I’m a capitalist, but the sell-off of land concerns me. The complete destruction of it through glyphosates and chemicals, the way farmers’ properties have fallen silent— nearly devoid of birds because of poisoned soil— is alarming. Farmers often have to fight harder not to vaccinate their livestock than to pump them full of chemicals. The real cowboys could explain why superficial arguments about culture are straw men, but they’re too busy feeding the very people who mock them.
We talk about music and culture as commentary during times of revolution, but all I’ve been seeing is protests against ICE and disrespect for the people whose job it is to keep us safe. Suddenly, bluegrass “woke” southerners— who have never tilled a field or worked a herd— are pulling out banjos. It is refreshing to hear music with four-part harmony that corrects the modern narrative of self-loathing and calmly refutes the accusation that America lacks its own culture. Our countrymen have bled on this ground and then built on it.
I choose to make music and offer political commentary because, in between the noise, it matters. Occasionally, you hear a lightning bolt like this— something that makes you proud to be an American, proud to know the dirt. It’s a joke to act oppressed in the most opportunity-filled country in the world. Manufacturing political grievances out of common sense is a first-world problem. We are incredibly fortunate.
We need more of this. More odes to the land and to the everyday man who made it great, told in Highwaymen-like tones. Culture is the window into politics when doors seem closed. On college campuses, in cities, and among those who weren’t taught any better, the battle is still being fought in the trenches. We owe it to this country to carry our generational blessings forward. I believe Gen Z might still have a shot at understanding what actually matters.
We may come from everywhere, but we also come from the spirit of a bloodline of warfighters, conquerors, and revolutionaries. The biggest middle finger to the establishment wasn’t a no-loans, gender-studies student protesting in the street— it was Washington crossing the Delaware. Our culture is rebellion. It’s lines in the sand. It’s standing up for what’s right when everyone else backs down. We are the builders, the peacekeepers, the doers. It’s time we started acting like it. Hearing a piece of music that puts this front and center is exactly what this culture needs right now. God bless country music— and the good old boys who aren’t afraid to sing about what matters.
Alexis Wilkins is a political commentator and recording artist whose work focuses on media, policy, and culture. She has advised national organizations and political leaders on communications and crisis strategy, contributed to initiatives such as American Border Story, serves as a Senior Fellow with the American Principles Project, and sits on the board of the National Rifle Association, where she works on outreach to women and younger audiences.
