Although a convenient shorthand for analyzing voting trends, what the pollsters miss is that a majority of Americans, red and blue, ascribe to an American way of life that is steeped in modernist ideology. Even the blues, with their greater tolerance for other perspectives and points of view, are inclined to believe that there is an overriding purpose to the human journey and a right way to live in the world.
Europeans, in comparison, have been much more eager to critique the basic assumptions of modernity and embrace a post-modern orientation. Their willingness has much to do with the devastation wrought by two world wars and the specter of a continent lying in near ruins in 1945 as a result of blind adherence to utopian visions and ideologies.
European intellectuals, understandably, led the charge against the modernity project. They were anxious to make sure that the old dogmas would never again take them down the road to destruction. Their across-the-bow attack on meta-narratives led them to champion multiculturalism and eventually universal human rights and the rights of nature. Multiculturalism was viewed by the post-modernists as an antidote, of sorts, to modern thought, a way of countering a doctrinaire single frame of reference with multiple perspectives. The rights agenda broadened the assault on a single perspective even more. Universal human rights and the rights of nature were a way of recognizing that every person’s story is of equal worth and that the Earth itself matters. But here is where the logic of post-modernity began to run up against its own internal contradiction. The very recognition of universal human rights and the rights of nature suggests a meta-narrative. “Universal” means something everyone recognizes and accepts as fundamental and indivisible. Rather unintentionally, post-modernists dug their own grave by acknowledging that there exists at least one universal idea to which everyone can potentially agree—that is, that every human life has equal value and that nature is worthy of respect and consideration.
The European Dream takes over where post-modernity trails off. Stripped to its bare essentials, the European Dream is an effort at creating a new historical frame that can both free the individual from the old yoke of Western ideology and, at the same time, connect the human race to a new shared story, clothed in the garb of universal human rights and the intrinsic rights of nature—what we call a global consciousness. It is a dream that takes us beyond modernity and post-modernity and into a global age. The European Dream, in short, creates a new history.
It has been fashionable of late, within American conservative intellectual circles, to discuss the question of the end of history. Some, like Francis Fukuyama, argue that with the fall of Soviet Communism, liberal market-oriented democracies have triumphed and will likely not be replaced by any alternative models in the future. Although somewhat sophomoric, the debate over the end of history illustrates the bias of many contemporary historians, who assume that history is no more than the unfolding struggle between competing economic and political ideologies over how resources are to be expropriated and made productive, how capital and property are to be controlled and distributed, and how people are to be governed. For some, the American Dream, with its emphasis on unfettered individual accumulation of wealth in a democratically governed society, represents the ultimate expression of the end of history.
The new European Dream is powerful because it dares to suggest a new history, with an attention to quality of life, sustainability, and peace and harmony. In a sustainable civilization, based on quality of life rather than unlimited individual accumulation of wealth, the very material basis of modern progress would be a thing of the past. A steady-state global economy is a radical proposition, not only because it challenges the conventional way we have come to use nature’s resources but also because it does away with the very idea of history as an ever-rising curve of material advances. The objective of a sustainable global economy is to continually reproduce a high-quality present state by aligning human production and consumption with nature’s ability to recycle waste and replenish resources. A sustainable, steady-state economy is truly the end of history defined by unlimited material progress.
If the European Dream represents the end of one history, it also suggests the beginning of another. What becomes important in the new European vision of the future is personal transformation rather than individual material accumulation. The new dream is focused not on amassing wealth but, rather, on elevating the human spirit. The European Dream seeks to expand human empathy, not territory. It takes humanity out of the materialist prison in which it has been bound since the early days of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment and into the light of a new future motivated by idealism.
This book is about the older American Dream and the newly emerging European Dream. In a sense, it represents a first rough cut, with all the shortcomings that accompany an effort of this kind.
While I remain viscerally attached to the American Dream, especially to its unswerving belief in the pre-eminence of the individual and personal responsibility and accountability, my hope for the future pulls me to the European Dream, with its emphasis on collective responsibility and global consciousness. I have attempted, in the pages that follow, to find some synergism between both visions, with the hope of reaching a synthesis that combines the best of each dream.
Of this much I’m relatively sure. The fledgling European Dream represents humanity’s best aspirations for a better tomorrow. A new generation of Europeans carries the world’s hopes with it. This places a very special responsibility on the European people, the kind our own founding fathers and mothers must have felt more than two hundred years ago, when the rest of the world looked to America as a beacon of hope. I hope our trust is not trifled away.
NEW LESSONS from the OLD WORLD
1
The Slow Death of the American Dream
MY FATHER, Milton, was born in Denver, Colorado, in 1908. My mother, Vivette, was born three years later in El Paso, Texas, just this side of the Mexican border. They were among the last generation to grow up during a time when cowboys still roamed the range, although in greatly diminished numbers, and the frontier was still fresh in people’s minds. My parents were Westerners. They were weaned on that very special catechism that we have come to know as the American Spirit. My parents’ worldview was uncomplicated and very much the product of the frontier mentality. My mother would tuck me in at night, and instead of reading me childhood stories about goblins and fairies, she would recount the day’s activities, of what had been accomplished and what was left to be done, always leaving me with a sense of anticipation of what exciting things lay ahead the next day. I could hardly wait. My mother believed that each person had a destiny. We are each chosen to make something out of ourselves, to contribute something to the world. But for her, destiny was not fate, but rather opportunity waiting to be seized and acted upon. Whether one lived out one’s destiny depended on how strongly one believed in his or her ability to affect the world.
My mother used every situation as a pretext to push home the principle that guided her life and the lives of so many Americans of her era. She would say to me, “Jeremy, in America, you can do anything you choose to do and be anyone you choose to be, if you want to do it or be it badly enough.” Personal willpower, for my mom, was the force that opened up the door to all the possibilities of the future. “Believe in yourself,” she would say, “and you will be able to move mountains.” Of course, for my mom’s generation, still close to America’s frontier past, all of this just seemed to make common sense. A half century later, when such exhortations began to fade from the collective memory, educators, psychiatrists, and parents began to re-introduce them in a more structured if not artificial way, in the form of “self-esteem” seminars and instruction. But, in the new contrived context, the exercise seems a bit too desperate, perhaps because it lacks any kind of historical context or mission. Self-esteem has come to mean “feeling good about oneself,” often without any specific end in mind.
While my mom provided the inspiration to allow my imag
ination to take flight, it was my dad who provided the measure of American realism and practicality to make my dreams come true. He would say, “Son, a lot of people dream of doing great things, but what separates the dreamers from the doers is discipline and hard work.” Then he would invariably attach his own sense of statistical probability to the chances of success. “My boy, always remember that success in life is the result of ninety-nine percent hard work and one percent talent . . . and don’t ever forget, no one is ever going to hand you success in life or give you something for nothing. You are on your own.”
A Nation of Dreamers
There you have it. The American Credo. These are the aphorisms that most little boys—fewer girls—grew up on, at least until very recently. I have asked many of my European friends if their parents passed on similar teachings, only to be greeted with puzzled expressions. So, I suspect that this particular legacy is uniquely American.
It’s interesting to note that although people have been living the American Dream for two centuries, the term didn’t become part of the popular lexicon until 1931. Historian James Truslow Adams published a book entitled The Epic of America, in which the term “American Dream” was used for the very first time.1 Adams originally wanted to use the term in the title of the book, but his editor, Ellery Sedgwick, refused, saying that “no red-blooded American would pay $3.50 for a dream.”2 Adams’s retort at the time was that “red-blooded Americans have always been willing to gamble their last peso on a dream.”3 In hindsight, Adams’s intuition about the American psyche proved far closer to the mark. Today, around the world, people know about the American Dream and can articulate its meaning. The term has become so well known that in most languages, people simply refer to it in the English vernacular.
For an American, it’s peculiar to think that people of other cultures and lands have no counterpart to the American Dream. When I ask people from around the world what their dream is, they are taken aback. How strange it must be for them to know so much about our American Dream without having one of their own. That’s beginning to change. My sense is that a European Dream is now beginning to take shape and form. It’s still in its birthing stage, but its contours are already becoming clear. In many respects, the European Dream is the mirror opposite of the American Dream, making it easier to understand by holding it up to the American image and noting the many dissimilarities.
The American and European dreams are, at their core, about two diametrically opposed ideas of freedom and security. Americans hold a negative definition of what it means to be free and, thus, secure. For us, freedom has long been associated with autonomy. If one is autonomous, he or she is not dependent on others or vulnerable to circumstances outside of his or her control. To be autonomous, one needs to be propertied. The more wealth one amasses, the more independent one is in the world. One is free by becoming self-reliant and an island unto oneself. With wealth comes exclusivity, and with exclusivity comes security.
The new European Dream, however, is based on a different set of assumptions about what constitutes freedom and security. For Europeans, freedom is not found in autonomy but in embeddedness. To be free is to have access to a myriad of interdependent relationships with others. The more communities one has access to, the more options and choices one has for living a full and meaningful life. With relationships comes inclusivity, and with inclusivity comes security.
The American Dream puts an emphasis on economic growth, personal wealth, and independence. The new European Dream focuses more on sustainable development, quality of life, and interdependence. The American Dream pays homage to the work ethic. The European Dream is more attuned to leisure and deep play. The American Dream is inseparable from the country’s religious heritage and deep spiritual faith. The European Dream is secular to the core. The American Dream is assimilationist. We associate success with shedding our former cultural ties and becoming free agents in the great American melting pot. The European Dream, by contrast, is based on preserving one’s cultural identity and living in a multicultural world. The American Dream is wedded to love of country and patriotism. The European Dream is more cosmopolitan and less territorial. Americans are more willing to employ military force in the world, if necessary, to protect what we perceive to be our vital self-interests. Europeans are more reluctant to use military force and, instead, favor diplomacy, economic assistance, and aid to avert conflict and prefer peacekeeping operations to maintain order. Americans tend to think locally, while European’s loyalties are more divided and stretch from the local to the global. The American Dream is deeply personal and little concerned with the rest of humanity. The European Dream is more expansive and systemic in nature and, therefore, more bound to the welfare of the planet.
That isn’t to say that Europe has suddenly become Shangri-la. For all of its talk about inclusivity, diversity, and preserving cultural identity, Europeans have become increasingly hostile toward newly arrived immigrants and asylum seekers. Ethnic strife and religious intolerance continue to flare up in various pockets across Europe. Anti-Semitism is on the rise again, as is discrimination against Muslims and other religious minorities. While European nations and the European public berate American military hegemony and what they regard as a trigger-happy foreign policy, they are more than willing, on occasion, to let the U.S. armed forces safeguard European security interests.
Meanwhile, the Brussels’ governing machinery, say European Union (EU) supporters and critics alike, is a labyrinthine maze of bureaucratic red tape that frustrates even the most optimistic Europhiles. EU government officials are often accused of being aloof and unresponsive to the needs of the European citizens they are supposed to serve. European Union staff have been caught up in financial scandal. Special interests—and especially the farm lobby—are accused of exerting undue influence over the allocation of EU funds. The small member states accuse Germany and France of bullying and bulldozing through protocols and treaties favorable to their interests and, worse yet, of not obeying the existing EU directives when inconvenient, and thus creating a double standard within the Union. Most recently, both countries announced they would refuse to adhere to the EU requirement that their budget deficit be restricted to 3 percent of their Gross Domestic Product (GDP). (The GDP is a measure of the value of total output of goods and services produced each year.) Germany and France accuse the smaller and poorer states of not being grateful for all the economic assistance they have extended to them over the years. Everyone accuses the United Kingdom of periodically sabotaging efforts to create a stronger union of European peoples. For their part, the Brits waffle back and forth, not sure whether their own best long-term interests rest with being part of a greater Europe or going it alone. On top of all this, economic reforms inside the Union have slowed of late, raising serious doubts about Europe’s hope of becoming the world’s most competitive economy by the end of the decade. The list of grievances, frustrations, slights, and mishaps is tediously long but probably no more so than one might expect of charges aimed at other government entities in the world today.
The point, however, is not whether the Europeans are living up to the dream they have for themselves. We Americans have never fully lived up to our own dream. Rather, what’s important is that Europe has articulated a new vision for the future that’s different in many of its most fundamental aspects from America’s. It is this basic difference in how Europeans and Americans envision their future that is so important to understanding the dynamic that is unfolding between these two great superpowers of the twenty-first century.
But I’m getting slightly ahead of the story. We will delve into these two very different dreams throughout the remainder of the book, with an idea to understanding why the European Dream might be better positioned to accommodate the many forces that are leading us to a more connected and interdependent globalized society.
To appreciate the new European Dream, however, we need to better understand what made the American Dream so compelling for so ma
ny people, both here and around the world, for more than two centuries. That dream, so powerful and seductive that it captured the imagination and heart of much of humanity, is now losing its luster—aging if you will—as new global realities force a rethinking of the human vision in the coming era. What were once considered the prime virtues of the American Dream are increasingly viewed as drawbacks and even impediments to the fulfillment of human aspirations, a reality few would have imagined just a short while ago. The fall of the American Dream is, in many ways, inseparably linked to the rise of the new European Dream. That is because it is the very shortcomings of the older vision that are making the new vision appear so attractive.
Before we begin this exploration of changing dreams, a confession is in order. I have a deep attachment to the American Dream. It has been my spiritual and philosophical guide for all of my life. Whatever I have done with my life, I owe much of it to following the American Dream that my parents passed down to me when I was a child. But, I also have to admit that the misgivings I now have about how I’ve lived my own life are also deeply entwined with the myth of the American Dream, something that I hope will become more clear in the pages and passages that follow as we explore the end of one great human journey and the beginning of another.
If I were to be given the choice of living my life over, I would likely choose to be an American again. There is so much to admire about this country. Its beauty and its majesty are what come to the minds of newcomers when they first visit our shores. It has long been a beacon in a troubled world; a place where a human being could become what he or she chose to be.
What really separates America from all of the political experiments that preceded it is the unbounded hope and enthusiasm, the optimism that is so thick at times that it can bowl you over. This is a land dedicated to possibilities, a place where constant improvement is the only meaningful compass and progress is regarded to be as certain as the rising sun. We are a people who threw off the yoke of tyranny and vowed never to be ruled by arbitrary elites of any kind. We eschew hereditary transmission and class distinctions, embrace the democratic spirit, and believe that everyone should be judged solely on his or her merits.
The European Dream Page 2
