William Gould.

In the wake of the attacks of September 11--attacks that were clearly motivated by hostility toward the United States and what it represents--there is growing interest in understanding what it means to be American. Several new books, appropriate even to the more leisurely season of summer reading, provide help. In Making Patriots (University of Chicago Press, $20, 150 pp.), the distinguished political theorist Walter Berns offers both scholars and the general reader a lucid, elegantly written reflection on the meaning of America.

Berns contends that America, unlike other countries, was explicitly founded on a set of political ideas derived largely from John Locke and summarized in the second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. That "all men are created equal" and endowed with "unalienable rights," including "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," which it is the task of governments to secure and protect. Accordingly, being an American means embracing these principles; not to do so is to be in some sense "un-American." (In contrast, a contemporary Frenchman who longs for the return of the ancien regime, whatever else might be said of him, is no less French for being a monarchist.) Following Locke's lead, our nation's founders established a commercial republic dedicated to prosperity and individual freedom.

Noting that religious divisions had often contributed to political instability, the founders sought to depoliticize religion by separating church and state. At the same time, they believed that religion fostered sound morals and sought therefore, "within the limits imposed by their Lockean principles...to promote and protect it." Furthermore, recognizing that the country's individualistic orientation, if carried to excess, could weaken commitment to the common good, both the founders and the subsequent shapers of the early republic promoted a form of civic education to strengthen patriotic sentiment. This civic education, conducted chiefly under the auspices of the public schools, used readers compiled by figures like Noah Webster and William McGuffey. These were filled with edifying stories meant to inculcate an appreciation of America's greatness and a spirit of sacrifice on its behalf. The books relied heavily on symbolism, especially on that of the American flag. Public schools inculcated veneration of the republic through flag veneration. (Not surprisingly, Berns is highly critical of recent Supreme Court decisions that permit flag burning.)

But even the most effective civic education could not disguise the great gulf between America's principles and American practice on the issue of slavery. In a superb chapter, Berns explains the crucially important role played by Abraham Lincoln in guiding the country through the Civil War and to emancipation. Calling Lincoln "patriotism's poet," Berns shows how Lincoln was able to renew our national commitment to the egalitarian principles of the Declaration largely through the power of his rhetoric.

On Hallowed Ground: Abraham Lincoln and the Foundations of American History (Yale University Press, $27.95, 330 pp.), by historian John Patrick Diggins, provides another reflection on American identity. Like Berns, Diggins asserts that America is founded on Lockean principles and emphasizes Lincoln's crucial role in restoring the nation's commitment to the defining principles of the Declaration. The bulk of the book, however, is taken up with critiques of other interpretations of America's founding, notably the classic republican interpretation of historian Gordon Wood, and the challenge to a liberal Lockean consensus posed by contemporary multiculturalists. Although readable and stimulating, Diggins's book is intended more for an academic audience than general readership.

Lincoln's central place in the American experience is the focus of Allen Guelzo's fascinating and award-winning Abraham Lincoln: Redeemer President (Eerdmans, $29, 516 pp.). Treating Lincoln as "a man of ideas," Guelzo traces his intellectual development and relates it to his extraordinary public career. The result is an intellectual portrait of a complex, conflicted man. Brought up in a Baptist household with a profoundly Calvinist cast, Lincoln came to reject the faith of his upbringing under the influence of Enlightenment thought. Yet, he was "a constant reader of the Bible," who devoted considerable time to pondering its meaning. He also retained a belief in predestination and in an unfathomable Providence overseeing the affairs of the world.

Politically, Lincoln favored the Whig party because he believed its growth-oriented policies promoted prosperity and gave every worker, whatever his race or ethnicity, a genuine opportunity to better his condition. (The Whigs, it will be recalled, were the party of business, big and small, a cash economy, and wage labor. They supported large "improvement" projects like the railroads, intended to unify the country and increase prosperity; in contrast, the Democrats, drawing on Jefferson and Jackson, were the party of yeoman farmers and states' rights.) Gradually, though, Lincoln became convinced that calculations of economic self-interest were not enough to hold a country together; a shared moral purpose was also necessary. In principled opposition to the spread of slavery, he found a large portion of that moral purpose. And so, as the fortunes of the Whigs waned and the salience of the slavery issue grew, Lincoln assumed the leadership of the newly formed antislavery Republicans, only to find himself soon thereafter presiding over a nation at war with itself.

As the war dragged on, Lincoln came to believe, despite his skeptical outlook, that a providential purpose was at work: the war was divine retribution for our long acceptance of slavery. Once that evil was ended, the Almighty was also calling all Americans, in both the North and South, to come together "with malice toward none" to form one nation again, committed to equality for all.

In Lincoln, Americans have a leader who affirms our Lockean heritage, to be sure, but enlarges and elevates what it means to be American by suffusing that heritage with communitarian themes of solidarity and sacrifice. He reminds us that, though a great nation, we still stand under the judgment of God.

William Gould is assistant dean for juniors at Fordham College at Rose Hill, Bronx, New York.