From corporate-sponsored block parties to millionaires campaigning for higher taxes, this is a story about two affluent tribes competing to look like the best kind of American.
Fireworks, flags, limited-edition merch, corporate pledges, military flyovers, and plenty of red, white and blue… after all that noise, America’s 250th birthday is officially over.
Beneath the pageantry, the Fourth of July is no longer simply a date on which the country celebrates itself. On its 250th anniversary, America is also arguing over who gets to define what loving the country is supposed to look like.
Right now, affluent America is speaking patriotism in two competing dialects. One camp expresses its love of country through sponsorship deals and glossy heritage projects: logos beside the fireworks, brands fronting volunteer campaigns, and an understanding of the American Dream in which commercial success is its own form of civic contribution. The other — the Patriotic Millionaires crowd — prefers patriotism with a little more sacrifice attached: higher taxes on fortunes like theirs, tighter rules on money in politics and a willingness to reform the system that made them wealthy.
Both claim to speak for the nation, and yet neither quite resembles the way most Americans are feeling this year.
Patriotism at low tide
In 2026, patriotism itself is fraying.
A major Independence Day poll this year found that while 68% of Americans still say they are proud to be American, only 31% believe the country is “on the right track,” an unusually wide gap between emotional attachment and confidence in the country’s direction. Other surveys report that the share of people who describe themselves as “extremely proud” has dropped sharply since the mid‑2010s, tying or hitting record lows in the lead‑up to the semiquincentennial.
Unsurprisingly, the decline is not evenly distributed politically.
Republicans are far more likely than Democrats to report strong patriotic feeling, and older Americans significantly more likely than younger adults. One analysis notes that “extreme pride” is now concentrated among older, conservative respondents, while younger and liberal Americans increasingly describe patriotism with ambivalence, distance or discomfort.
This sets a peculiar scene to celebrate America’s 250th birthday.
Who loves America?
Age and politics are not the only forces shaping how strongly Americans identify with the country. Class plays a surprisingly large role too.
Sociologist Francesco Duina’s work on Poverty and Patriotism in America finds that poor Americans report some of the highest levels of patriotic attachment in the country — higher, in many cases, than wealthier and college‑educated Americans. A review of his book Broke and Patriotic notes that between 80 and 90 percent of Americans at the bottom of the income ladder say they are proud of their country, and many insist the United States is simply “better” than other nations, even as their own prospects remain bleak.
These figures complicate the cliché that wealth buys comfort, and comfort buys loyalty. In fact, Duina’s work suggests that those with the least economic security can be among the most emotionally invested in the nation itself. Part of the reason, perhaps, is that patriotism gives people something money doesn’t always provide: dignity, belonging, and the feeling of having inherited a little piece of greatness. For wealthier Americans, national identity may sit alongside other sources of belonging and status, including education, professional life, cultural capital and international experience. But for poorer Americans, national pride can offer its own kind of lift. To believe America is exceptional is not just to admire the country from a distance; it is to feel, however faintly, included in the exception.
Among wealthy Americans, patriotism is often expressed through more public and institutional channels — sponsorships, philanthropy, political advocacy and commentary about what the country needs next. It is patriotism with a press release, a funding structure and, ideally, a very good guest list.
Two languages of affluent patriotism
Within affluent America, there are now two clearly articulated ways of talking about patriotism.
On one side is the camp represented by Patriotic Millionaires, a network of high‑net‑worth Americans who argue that “making money doesn’t make you a patriot.” The group’s chair, former BlackRock managing director Morris Pearl, has attacked efforts to roll back enforcement against wealthy tax cheats as a betrayal of democratic foundations, arguing that patriotism requires holding the rich to at least the same standard as everyone else.
It is an exceptionally elegant position from which to be wealthy: successful enough to have benefited from the system, but principled enough to demand that it change.
On the other side sits a more traditional elite narrative in which wealth creation itself is framed as patriotic, and a continuation of ‘The American Dream’. In this view, building companies, investing capital and defending low taxes are acts of loyalty because they keep the economy competitive and fuel innovation. Calls for higher taxes on the rich are cast as an attack on the productive engine of the nation; corporate success and shareholder returns are treated as evidence that the country is flourishing.
This version offers its own flattering role: not merely rich, but productive; not simply protecting an advantage, but defending the machinery of American prosperity.
The stage: America250 and the corporate flag
To see this split clearly, don’t look at what people say. Look at where they show up.
The official semiquincentennial organisation, America250, was created by Congress to plan and fund the 250th anniversary celebrations, promising the “biggest and most spectacular commemoration in the nation’s history.” On paper, it was a bipartisan effort to educate and “engage 350 million Americans”through block parties, concerts, educational programs and service initiatives.
In practice, it also became a showcase for corporate patriotism.
America250’s sponsor list is pretty much what you’d expect: airlines, banks, tech giants, retailers, defence contractors and the usual corporate giants of American life. Coca-Cola, Amazon, Walmart, JPMorgan, Lockheed Martin, Oracle, Palantir — everyone gets a flag. It’s a useful reminder that, in America, patriotism is not only a feeling. It can also come with sponsorship packages, campaign assets and excellent brand visibility.
These sponsors are providing cash, logistics, themed aircraft liveries, marketing campaigns and service hours in exchange for formal association with the national milestone. Chick‑fil‑A, for example, has attached itself to America250 through a volunteer program called America Gives, committing restaurants and staff to log service hours throughout 2026 under a patriotic brand umbrella.
Two ways to wear the flag
By this point, patriotism starts to look less like a single feeling and more like an extremely versatile dress code.
For corporate America, patriotism offers one particularly flattering role: the successful builder whose commercial ambition doubles as civic contribution. Jobs created, capital invested, service hours logged and fireworks duly sponsored all become evidence of good national citizenship. Critics such as Americans for Tax Fairness complicate that image, noting that the 100 largest US firms reported more than a trillion dollars in profits last year while shedding tens of thousands of jobs and paying relatively low effective tax rates. Still, sponsoring America250 allows companies to present themselves not merely as businesses operating in America, but as institutions helping to stage it — complete with commemorative campaigns, branded volunteerism and, presumably, an excellent seat for the fireworks.
For the Patriotic Millionaires, the flattering role is different: the conscientious beneficiary, wealthy enough to have prospered under the system but principled enough to insist it needs reform. Higher taxes and tighter political rules become evidence not of hostility to success, but of having achieved it without losing one’s civic conscience.
One camp wants credit for building the system; the other wants credit for being willing to repair it.
Who gets the best seat?
So who is all this elite patriotism actually for?
In practice, its public celebrations and its institutional machinery operate in rather different rooms. Sponsor decks, VIP events and branded service campaigns also speak to an institutional audience of lawmakers, officials, donors, corporate boards and trade associations. They also position big companies and wealthy patrons as visible, dependable partners in the national celebration.
Ordinary citizens are not excluded from the celebrations, of course. For most participants, the rewards are immediate and atmospheric: fireworks, concerts, flags, merch, swelling music and the temporary pleasure of feeling part of something larger. Institutional partners, naturally, leave with a few additional souvenirs: relationships, visibility, access and the useful glow of having stood beside the flag.
Critics have been less charmed, pointing to America250’s corporate roll-call as evidence that even national memory now arrives with presenting partners. From this perspective, the celebration addresses the public while also reflecting the tastes and priorities of the institutions funding it.
After the fireworks
Polls around America’s 250th say most people still feel proud to be American, but far fewer believe the country is headed in the right direction.
Both affluent tribes have found a flattering way to wear the flag. Whether either looks quite like the country beneath it is another question.
