[Texgreen] Denial
Roger Baker
rcbaker@eden.infohwy.com
Mon, 15 Oct 2007 00:55:32 -0500
"... Herein lies the challenge for the presidential candidates in the
coming year - how to respond to this pessimistic mood without
reflecting or discussing its root causes: to lay out a plausible
explanation of how Americans can get their groove back, without
examining how they got in this rut in the first place."
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<http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/story/0,,2191336,00.html>
The land of optimism is in the dumps, but refuses to accept how it
got there
Not since Watergate has such pessimism afflicted Americans. They want
politicians to lift them without facing the cause
Gary Younge in New York
Monday October 15, 2007
The Guardian
On April 27 1968 the vice president, Hubert Humphrey, announced his
presidential candidacy. It was a particularly troubled moment in
America's recent history. Just three weeks after Martin Luther King's
assassination, the cities were still scarred by riots while the
country as a whole was deeply divided over the Vietnam war.
Presumably seeking to capture the mood of the nation, Humphrey
started his speech thus: "Here we are, the way politics ought to be
in America, the politics of happiness, the politics of purpose, the
politics of joy; and that's the way it's going to be, all the way,
too, from here on out." Within six weeks Bobby Kennedy had been
assassinated.
America's self-image as the home of unrelenting progress - a nation
of historic purpose and unrivalled opportunity where tomorrow will
always be better than today - is the linchpin of its political and
popular culture. Optimism, it seems, is a truly renewable national
resource. It was used to build Bill Clinton's "bridge to the 21st
century" in 1992, and powered the alarm clocks for Reagan's "new
morning in America".
"The American, by nature, is optimistic," said John F Kennedy. "He is
experimental, an inventor and a builder who builds best when called
upon to build greatly." This optimism is the source for much of what
makes the US simultaneously so revered and reviled, dynamic and
deluded, around the world.
On one hand it articulates a hope, bordering on certainty, that a
better world is not just feasible but already in the making. Released
from the hogties of tradition and formality, such confidence is
driven by possibility rather than the past. Winston Churchill once
said he "preferred the past to the present and the present to the
future". An American politician who wanted to get elected would say
precisely the opposite. This optimism underpins the notions of class
fluidity and personal reinvention at the core of the American dream.
Where others might ask "Why?", it asks "Why not?". Such is the root
of so much that is great about America's economy, culture and politics.
On the other hand this optimism has within it the notion that the US
is the exclusive repository of these hopes and the sole means by
which a better world can be made. Unfettered by history, consensus or
empirical evidence, it is driven by myth rather than material
circumstances. Even as class rigidity entrenches and personal
reinvention slips, the dream remains. Like Stephen Colbert's spoof of
George Bush, it has the capacity to "believe the same thing Wednesday
that [it] believed on Monday, no matter what happened Tuesday". It
posits America as the world's future whether the world wants it or
not. Such is the root of so much that is terrible about America's
economy, politics and foreign policy.
This sense of optimism has been in retreat in almost every sense over
the past few years. According to Rasmussen polls, just 21% of
Americans believe the country is on the right track, a figure that
has fallen by more than a half since the presidential election of
2004. Meanwhile only a third think the country's best days are yet to
come, as opposed to 43% who believe they have come and gone - again a
steep decline on three years ago. These are not one-offs. In the past
18 months almost every poll that has asked Americans about their
country's direction has produced among the most pessimistic responses
on record - a more extended period than anyone can remember since
Watergate.
America, in short, is in a deep funk. Far from feeling hopeful, it
appears fearful of the outside world and despondent about its own
future. Not only do most believe tomorrow will be worse than today,
they also feel that there is little that can be done about it.
There are three main reasons. Closest to home is the economy. Wages
are stagnant, house prices in most areas have stalled or are falling,
the dollar is plunging, and the deficit is rising. A Pew survey last
week showed that 72% believe the economy is either "only fair" or
poor and 76% believe it will be the same or worse a year from now.
Globalisation is a major worry. Of 46 countries polled recently, the
US had the least positive view on foreign trade and one of the least
positive on foreign companies.
The sense that things will improve for the next generation has all
but evaporated. Another Pew poll from last year found that only 34%
of Americans expected today's children to be better off than people
are now - down from 55% shortly before President Bush came to power.
Second is the Iraq war and the steep decline in America's
international standing it has prompted. A global-attitudes Pew poll
from last year showed that 65% of Americans believe the country is
less respected by the rest of the world than it was - double the
figure of 20 years ago. The fact that only half those polled thought
this was a problem is telling.
For if the war in Iraq were going well then this probably wouldn't
matter. But it isn't. All surveys show that for some time a steady
majority of the public believe the war was a mistake, is going badly
and that the troops should be withdrawn. One of the central factors
in which America's self-confidence was predicated - global hegemony
based on unrivalled military supremacy - has been fundamentally
undermined.
Last week Lieutenant General Ricardo Sanchez, the former top
commander of US troops in Iraq, spelled out the national despair,
branding the war a "nightmare with no end in sight".
Which brings us, finally, to the political class. Once again the
American public have lost faith. The rot starts at the top. Almost as
soon as they elected Bush in 2004 they seemed to regret it. Since
Katrina, his favourability ratings have been stuck in the 30s and
show no signs of moving - or at least not upwards. Bush's only
comfort is that public approval of the Democratically controlled
Congress is even worse, hovering just below where it was shortly
before the 2006 elections. In other words, however Americans believe
their country will return to the right track, they no longer trust
politicians to get them there.
Little suggests that anything will change any time soon. After four
years of being told they were winning a war they have been losing and
are better off when they are not, Americans are more wary of
political happy talk than they have been for a long time. But that
doesn't mean they want to hear sad talk instead, even if it happens
to be true. For the central problem is not that they were lied to -
though that of course is a problem - but that they have constantly
found some of these lies more palatable than the truth. Bush may have
exploited the more problematic aspects of this optimism. But he did
not create them. Enough of the American public had to be prepared to
meet him halfway to make his agenda possible.
Herein lies the challenge for the presidential candidates in the
coming year - how to respond to this pessimistic mood without
reflecting or discussing its root causes: to lay out a plausible
explanation of how Americans can get their groove back, without
examining how they got in this rut in the first place.
g.younge@guardian.co.uk