In 1630, Puritan lawyer and governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony John Winthrop uttered the words that have come to represent the audacity of America’s founding enterprise: “For we must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill. The eyes of all people will be upon us.”
Three hundred and fifty years later, at the peak of American Empire, Ronald Reagan picked up the threads of Winthrop’s speech as a way to assert his belief in American exceptionalism. At the end of his second term in the White House, he shared his vision of this city:
“I’ve spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don’t know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, windswept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That’s how I saw it, and see it still.”
Many, I’m sure, will be quick to note that it’s been a sharp fall from the heights of Reagan’s rhetoric to the rather less eloquent, but none-the-less memorable, chants of “Build the wall.”
I think the pressure’s gotten to us. I mean, it’s a big responsibility, all this city on a hill business. Maybe we need to build that wall just to give ourselves a break from the world’s insistent gaze. Maybe what we need is to shut the city gates for the afternoon, have a good nap, maybe zap some casserole leftovers for dinner, watch Gilmore Girls, and see how we feel in the morning. Hell, why not just take the weekend off. See what happens if we can go for a few days without selling weapons to some Middle Eastern tyrants1 or destroying the global consensus by vetoing a resolution at the UN or releasing another mindless sequel to another superhero franchise or opening a dozen new Starbucks or McDonald’s or KFC or Subway somewhere that the winning one-two punch of American convenience and mediocrity hasn’t worn out yet.
Could the world manage for a weekend without that?
Maybe it would help if we stopped screaming “LOOK AT ME” like a four-year-old. We love a good chant, so when it’s not “BUILD THE WALL,” it’s the crowd favorite “USA USA USA,” which I prefer to read to myself in Spanish. Really, neither makes any more sense than the other.
Who doesn’t want to believe themselves exceptional? The great hope of western civilization, the pinnacle of the world order, the new Roman Empire—heralding western tolerance, preaching enlightenment, breaking the shackles of the oppressed, and selflessly bestowing liberal democracy upon the world.
When a person feels this way, that they’re the best there is, no holds barred, we have a word to describe that condition: delusion.
I think what America really needs is therapy.
Yes, fair enough, we’ve contributed a lot to the world: major inventions and scientific breakthroughs a-plenty—cars and cancer treatment, electricity and escalators, airplanes and astronauts.
If only we weren’t hiding a dozen Big Mac wrappers, a couple packs of cigarettes, diet pills, and a half-empty bottle of vodka in our desk drawer.
What do they say when you ask how they’re doing? Living the dream! But not just any dream. The American dream. A-M-E-R-I-C-A-N D-R-E-A-M!
Our TV shows, films, and music are roadmaps on how to get to this dreamland. Friends is a popular one in the realm of pure fantasy—who wouldn’t love to work part time in a coffee shop while sharing a gorgeous Manhattan apartment with your best friends? Emily in Paris is a bit of a weird one since it’s not set in the land of the free and the home of the brave, but it still proves a point: the world is dying to know the “American point of view.” Oh, and when Americans emigrate, it’s for six-figure salaries, charming European clichés, and romantic escapades.
Wait, I guess that’s two for “pure fantasy.”
But this isn’t about them, it’s about us. At the end of it, Emily has to come back to the land of freedom; doesn’t she?
Whatever you think of France, we put the freedom in freedom fries. There is so much freedom, so much choice!
Coke or Pepsi?
Batman or Superman?
Microsoft or Apple?
Drake or Kendrick Lamar?
Republicans or Democrats?
Team Jacob or Team Edward?
Twenty-four-hour Walmarts and fast food chains2 on every corner. Newspapers reporting on elections while their owners dump millions into the campaigns. A $7.25 minimum wage and for-profit education. Credit cards, Pinterest, and Prozac. Sixty-foot crosses next to strip clubs and churches next to sex shops. Hire a sex worker on Saturday, repent your sins on Sunday.3 A different-colored band-aid to patch over every deeper need you’d like to suppress. That’s the American way!
Unions got us the 40-hour work week, so we had to find some other way to burn our time. Got your 9–5 sorted? Well, how about your 5–9? Give me your elevator pitch. What’s your brand? What’s your five-year plan?
This was supposed to be as good as it got, but sometimes, it all just feels like it’s too much.
Sometimes, I think we got it wrong. We really do need that wall. But not to keep the world out, but to keep us in. After all, maybe a civilization that’s built on genocide and slavery, that prioritizes gun ownership over the lives of our children and shareholder earnings over healthcare as a human right has a thing or two to learn before declaring itself a city on a hill.
If you enjoyed this article, please consider supporting me on Patreon for as little as $2/month!
1 Israel
2 I was going to write “McDonald’s,” but I don’t want to limit my options. If another fast food chain would like to bid on a chance at some optimum product placement, get in touch.
3 Take it to the next level by voting to further criminalize and punish sex workers on Monday.