We do big things. Sometimes, we do bad things.

We do big things. In his second State of the Union address, President Barack Obama uttered this refrain as a way to galvanize his base of supporters while reminding his detractors that he is indeed a patriot who believes in the spirit of the American union, one of the most charmed and enduring regimes in history. A union forged through both revolution and compromise, and founded upon a Constitution so broad and forward-thinking that equal room was deliberately given to both actions.

It was a speech delivered when the nation was smarting from a dastardly blow to the conscience of its people delivered by a diseased individual in Tucson who made us all question the vituperative nature of our national discourse. His delivery of the speech was outstanding and the content was politically cunning because the president was able to co-opt the primary arguments of his opposition and position their responses as immature, negative and shallow.

But in an era of instantaneous information and reactionary politics, political victory is fleeting. At the time of this particular address the seeds of revolution had already blossomed abroad as a Tunisian fruit vendor entered martyrdom and sparked demonstrations that continue unabated throughout the Arab world. Now, just weeks after we begin to heal from the tragedy in Tucson, we have turned our attention to the battle for democracy in Egypt and wonder what, if anything, our role is there.

This column is the culmination of an unintended three-part series examining America through the lens of the State of the Union and the unfolding drama in Cairo. I find my mind continually examining the dichotomy between our speech and our actions, and measuring the perception we have of ourselves against that of the world. The relative silence of the Republican Party on Egypt and the caution of the Obama administration illustrate how painful our predicament truly is.

The longevity of the Hosni Mubarak regime is directly attributable to our financial and diplomatic efforts to assist a strategic ally who we deemed critical to maintaining a balance of power in the Middle East. The reality is inescapable.

Inherent in our tacit approval of Mubarak’s repressive presidency has been the endorsement of his most undemocratic policies and tactics, which are fueling the revolution against him. Our stance has always been that the heavy hand of dictatorship is more palatable than having yet another overt enemy to Israel, particularly one with strategic trade benefits given its proximity to the Suez Canal. More recently these tactics have proved useful in America’s war on terror as intelligence has flowed freely between our two nations.

But our hypocrisy has its boundaries. The demonstrations of freedom and the faces of young people rising up against tyranny inspire Americans at our core in a way other nations simply wouldn’t understand. For all the criticism we receive for being ignorant, ethnocentric and entitled, we have nevertheless been instilled with a sense of patriotism that is easily awakened. Beneath our sense of entitlement is a vague memory and inchoate understanding of the revolutionary underpinnings this nation was founded upon.

I spend a great deal of time and ink railing against government impropriety or wrongdoing; but I do so with the deep appreciation and understanding that it is my right to do so because my government grants me this freedom. Here again President Obama perfectly balanced this notion when he pointed out that despite the differences among those he addressed in the chamber that January night, not one of them would trade places with any other nation in the world.

But to continue with that thought and the belief that we do big things, we must also recognize that we do bad things.

Supporting the Mubarak regime all of these years without imposing our substantial will to engender a more democratic state was wrong, thereby making any attempt to influence the outcome of the revolution impossible. I truly believe that Americans have a genuine sense of familiarity and envy when witnessing what is happening in Egypt. In every fist raised defiantly in Tahrir Square we see our own. This is righteousness in the raw. With each passing day of protest we are at once reacquainted with the emotions our forebears must have felt when they fought the forces of tyranny and painfully made aware of the realization that, in the case of Egypt, we have aided the oppressor.

But if we forgive ourselves the transgression of upholding tyranny and see this moment through the uniquely American lens of democracy as we understand it, there is great satisfaction and comfort to be had. It is a timeless scene beautifully scripted by Henry David Thoreau in Civil Disobedience, a resource I refer to often when attempting to divine inspiration and clarity on the conundrum that is freedom through governance: “All men recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse allegiance to and to resist the government, when its tyranny or its inefficiency are great and unendurable.”

Democracy Ablaze in Cairo

America loves a good dictator; at least when it comes to the strategic installation of one. The problem with dictators is the inevitable egos they develop when left unchecked for too long. It never fails. You help them overthrow the current regime and teach them how to put down insurrections, muzzle the media and detain dissidents until, eventually, they start believing their own propaganda and forget who put them there.

Dictators are the teenagers of world leaders.

Extracting a dictator we have supported or even installed can be such a hassle. But we generally have a very good reason to do so: oil. This is why what is happening in Cairo right now is so perplexing to the U.S. government. Because we don’t covet their oil fields, we have no direct role in what is transpiring there and therefore no underlying reason to choose sides. If we don’t support a democratic uprising, our hypocrisy as the purveyor of global democracy is revealed. Yet, taking the side of the protestors makes Uncle Sam look like a fair-weather friend to Hosni Mubarak, whom we have supported for decades.

As dictators go, Mubarak has always operated on the margins. Since he came to power after the assassination of President Anwar Sadat, Mubarak’s greatest achievement has been maintaining his control. And he has done so through brutal authoritarian rule. Egypt has been a place where people can speak their minds but not raise their arms. This false sense of freedom has kept serious, regime-threatening uprisings at abeyance and given the impression to the world that Egyptians are, for the most part, politically apathetic. Until now.

Strategically, Egypt has been of little economic import to the United States in terms of natural resources. And because Egyptians lack the incredible oil wealth of some of their neighbors, they have a slightly more egalitarian distribution of wealth. This is not to say Egypt has a healthy economy. It certainly doesn’t. But it also lacks a wealthy ruling class of oil barons masquerading as governing leaders. Mubarak has never had the resources to hold power, fund extremists and militarize in the way Iraq, Iran and Libya have done so effectively to the detriment of our interests, and so he’s made Egypt and us strange and convenient bedfellows.

In return for our financial support, Egypt has been an important partner in the balance of power in the Arab world. We have given healthy financial support to Egypt throughout Mubarak’s regime to essentially maintain the political status quo; the geographic importance of Egypt—its proximity to Israel and the strategic significance of the Suez Canal—isn’t lost on anyone.

That this is a true democratic uprising, inspired in large part by the recent revolution in Tunisia, places the Unites States in the odd position of spectator. But our egocentricity coaxes us to project our role in the unfolding drama.

Unfortunately, we may have outwitted ourselves by waging two oil wars in the region while tolerating authoritarian rule among our so-called allies. The conundrum in the U.S. is how the conservative hawks, who long argued that our military actions in the Middle East were essential to spreading democracy, handle this situation.

During his presidency, George W. Bush was emboldened enough by his perceived military success abroad that he even pressed Mubarak to accept the coming wave of democracy our wars were ushering into the Middle East. In many ways Bush was prescient and his vision of spreading democracy through might—the ends justify the means—has taken hold in Tunisia and Egypt. No one really saw this coming or believed it possible. No one that is, except for George W. Bush. Our actions in the region have awakened many people in the Middle East who are staking their lives on self-determination and democracy. What we missed is that the leaders of the change view themselves as true radicals and revolutionaries in the spirit of those who founded our own nation and fought tyranny from abroad; but their end-game is very different.

A democratic Egypt would allow for political representation by Islamic fundamentalists who see democracy as the vehicle toward Islamic rule of law. This concept is counter-intuitive to Americans who regard democracy as the goal the uncivilized world truly seeks—whether they realize it or not. But amidst what is viewed as a secular revolt against a harsh regime are highly-educated, devout Muslims who are strongly anti-Semitic and believe that Al Qaeda and the Taliban are largely mythical American inventions that allow the United States to wage war for the purpose of stealing Mideast oil.

Our hunger for war over the past decade is costing us in ways yet to be calculated. In one sense we’re witnessing bloody, yet beautiful democracy unfolding in a manner reminiscent of our own revolution. But we have to realize that our policies and our blood money propped up the very dictatorship the Egyptian people want to dismantle. They see democracy not as the end in itself, but the means to electing a body of officials who would have us banished from the region and our closest ally removed from the map entirely.

Former President George W. Bush has often said he will be vindicated by history. He may already be right. Democracy is infectious. But if our “end” is simply another culture’s “means”, history may indeed vindicate Bush, but only tragically so.