When the dream fails

Throughout time, and without the apparent agency of any particular group or individual, a country’s narrative begins to form.

Since our earliest days, many of us were taught to cherish and revere the story of the “American Dream.” No matter how vague and obscure its shape might be in our minds, we still sense the strange hope and seriousness its message imparts.

In fact, the ambiguity of this concept has allowed it to evolve and adapt over time – not of its own volition, but according to the needs and priorities of the American public. The American Dream is a fluid, dynamic construction, both shaping and being shaped by our own conceptions.

If this is true, however, then to speak of one American Dream is to falsely assume the existence of a universal American experience or aspiration. Ironically, the rhetoric of a singular American Dream excludes the diversity and pluralism upon which this country has supposedly thrived.

By condensing the vast collection of American stories and experiences into one distilled characterization, we produce an unbalanced and unrealistically romantic narrative of American culture and society. Although we show deference to the sacrifices of pioneers and early settlers, we still portray them predominantly as triumphant conquerors of the land, ignoring the disaster and aimlessness that often befell their endeavors.

Similarly, we muster sympathy for our ancestors in the Great Depression but then jump ahead to ponder America’s more glorifying role in the liberation of Europe during World War II.

Failure is hard to swallow. Especially when it means the failure of an ideology or conviction in which an entire nation has placed its confidence.

Of course, humans – not just Americans – naturally adopt a less burdensome understanding of history. They attempt to simplify the process of analyzing and interpreting the past by speaking of such institutions as the American Dream when, in reality, there are a million complex and divergent American Dreams.  

Excluding failure from our national narrative has already contributed, in some ways, to a sense of American exceptionalism. One of the strongest opponents of this growing quality was the American theologian and political writer Reinhold Niebuhr.

 “So many dreams of our nation,” he wrote, “have been so cruelly refuted by history.” This habit can only breed a generation of disillusioned and discontented Americans. 
 
Rather than interpreting failure as the antithesis to success, our historians should recognize how inextricably linked failure and success truly are. Omitting failure from our stories and from our national identity sustains a misunderstanding of failure’s role in the moral maturity of a nation.

As the country descends into what could become another period of American failure, we must recognize that this period is no different than those which have preceded it. The American Dream – whatever it is – will persist, as it always has.

But if history is written by the winners or survivors, then let them have the courage to acknowledge both the utter failure and resilience of this era, and let them write a narrative that accounts for both.