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A review by blackoxford
Behold, America: A History of America First and the American Dream by Sarah Churchwell
2.0
The American Contradiction
Everyone is entitled to a view of what constitutes the true, the ideal America. Sarah Churchwell has her version fairly well-defined: “America wasn’t supposed to be an exceptional place because its citizens had dreams, or even because those dreams sometimes were fulfilled. That’s true of everyone. It was supposed to be exceptional in being a place dedicated to the proposition of helping those dreams to be realised...” And she provides enough contextual evidence to make this view plausible. What does such a view imply?
Dreaming is an uncomplicated business. It is imagining without constraints. No resource constraints, no time limitations, no moral inhibitions, perhaps even the absence of physical laws. Dreaming as such can’t be regulated no matter how radical. But the idea of assisting in the realisation of dreams, no matter how mundane or trivial, is another matter altogether, and implies a great deal of regulation indeed. This is where Churchwell goes off the rails - logically, psychologically, and sociologically.
Presumably the assistance in realising one’s dream is meant to come from one’s fellow citizens. This is the opinion shared by that most American of philosophers, Josiah Royce. His idea of the Beloved Community articulates exactly this. Quite appropriately, Royce’s philosophy is a kind of secularised Christianity, an argument for mutual acceptance and loyalty to one another that fits comfortably with Churchwell’s mutual-assistance view of America.
But Churchwell ignores an issue that is central to Royce’s analysis. The Beloved Community can only exist if its members can find and commit to an intention, a purpose, which includes both their own and that of their fellow citizens. Merely accepting that others have different objectives than oneself is inadequate. In fact the diversity of unresolved interests is guaranteed to create a political outcome that no one wants even if all can accept it. We all become constrains on everyone else, thus ensuring that whatever dreams there are can never be realised.
In other words, there is a way, according to Royce, for realising our dreams. But the price necessary to achieve this is a very special sort of constructive politics. This is a politics of inclusion, of the incorporation of individual interests into an increasingly broad collective interest. The only way to eliminate the constraints we impose on each other is to ensure that there are no constraints on who participates in politics and a mechanism through which such ‘higher interests’ can be formulated. This is the implication of Royce’s analysis, and the requirement for Churchwell’s view to be operational.
Unfortunately the political system of the United States was not designed for such a constructive politics. It is a dialectical not a synthetic system. It thrives on immediate differences not potential commonalities. Its standard of success is winning not cooperating. American politics are what economists call a zero-sum game: winners are exactly balanced by losers. Synthetic solutions, that is actions that further purposes which go beyond individual interests but also include those interests, are rarely if ever possible.
So while I can certainly endorse Churchwell’s view as consistent with Royce’s philosophy as well as my own preferences, I have to conclude that it is no more than sentimental splutter. If Churchwell’s opinion were shared by enough Americans, it might provoke a political revolution. But the result would not resemble the America that exists today, or that has existed for the last two centuries. This is an America of the pioneering individualist and of the neo-liberal philosophy of the priority of individual interests. ‘America first’ actually means ‘Me first’ which is patently contradictory within any polity. And it is a very different dream than Churchwell’s, one that seems rapidly turning into a nightmare.
Everyone is entitled to a view of what constitutes the true, the ideal America. Sarah Churchwell has her version fairly well-defined: “America wasn’t supposed to be an exceptional place because its citizens had dreams, or even because those dreams sometimes were fulfilled. That’s true of everyone. It was supposed to be exceptional in being a place dedicated to the proposition of helping those dreams to be realised...” And she provides enough contextual evidence to make this view plausible. What does such a view imply?
Dreaming is an uncomplicated business. It is imagining without constraints. No resource constraints, no time limitations, no moral inhibitions, perhaps even the absence of physical laws. Dreaming as such can’t be regulated no matter how radical. But the idea of assisting in the realisation of dreams, no matter how mundane or trivial, is another matter altogether, and implies a great deal of regulation indeed. This is where Churchwell goes off the rails - logically, psychologically, and sociologically.
Presumably the assistance in realising one’s dream is meant to come from one’s fellow citizens. This is the opinion shared by that most American of philosophers, Josiah Royce. His idea of the Beloved Community articulates exactly this. Quite appropriately, Royce’s philosophy is a kind of secularised Christianity, an argument for mutual acceptance and loyalty to one another that fits comfortably with Churchwell’s mutual-assistance view of America.
But Churchwell ignores an issue that is central to Royce’s analysis. The Beloved Community can only exist if its members can find and commit to an intention, a purpose, which includes both their own and that of their fellow citizens. Merely accepting that others have different objectives than oneself is inadequate. In fact the diversity of unresolved interests is guaranteed to create a political outcome that no one wants even if all can accept it. We all become constrains on everyone else, thus ensuring that whatever dreams there are can never be realised.
In other words, there is a way, according to Royce, for realising our dreams. But the price necessary to achieve this is a very special sort of constructive politics. This is a politics of inclusion, of the incorporation of individual interests into an increasingly broad collective interest. The only way to eliminate the constraints we impose on each other is to ensure that there are no constraints on who participates in politics and a mechanism through which such ‘higher interests’ can be formulated. This is the implication of Royce’s analysis, and the requirement for Churchwell’s view to be operational.
Unfortunately the political system of the United States was not designed for such a constructive politics. It is a dialectical not a synthetic system. It thrives on immediate differences not potential commonalities. Its standard of success is winning not cooperating. American politics are what economists call a zero-sum game: winners are exactly balanced by losers. Synthetic solutions, that is actions that further purposes which go beyond individual interests but also include those interests, are rarely if ever possible.
So while I can certainly endorse Churchwell’s view as consistent with Royce’s philosophy as well as my own preferences, I have to conclude that it is no more than sentimental splutter. If Churchwell’s opinion were shared by enough Americans, it might provoke a political revolution. But the result would not resemble the America that exists today, or that has existed for the last two centuries. This is an America of the pioneering individualist and of the neo-liberal philosophy of the priority of individual interests. ‘America first’ actually means ‘Me first’ which is patently contradictory within any polity. And it is a very different dream than Churchwell’s, one that seems rapidly turning into a nightmare.