“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” –F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
If we define the American Dream as the ability of anyone to
become anything they want and we measure that dream by upward mobility and a
growing middle class, the obvious answer is that it is endangered. Every
statistic that hasn’t been cooked by a conservative think tank so it can be
pushed by a con-artist politician indicates a now decades-long trend of the
vast majority of folk working harder for less. Meanwhile, the upper crust are
looking a lot more like their counterparts in Gatsby’s day: beyond reach.
Economists tell us economic collapses are cyclical, so there
will be more. As the Great Recession that began in 2008 taught us, the
individuals and institutions where wealth has accumulated the most are largely
immune. A couple years later, the very designers of the crisis begin posting
record profits and raising executive compensation to new levels. This isn’t the
old money of the Buchanans in The Great
Gatsby, it’s the new money of Wall Street, but in the 21st Century, those
with it are much like the Buchanans in that they ruin lives and then withdraw
behind their money.
But seeing the American Dream in terms of money and what it
can buy, whether goods or good times, is part of the problem. Against it,
Fitzgerald offers Gatsby’s incredible self-control and aptitude for
self-reinvention, and Thompson offers the liberating movements of the Sixties. Neither
seemed to believe the orthodox American Dream--the pursuit of money--had much
to offer in the way of personal fulfillment.
What is available to us today as a counter-American Dream?
Money and technology dominate our lives more than ever, and ever since the rise
of capitalism, increasingly the only means of fighting back are part of the
very system that is the problem. Many intellectuals of the left, since at least
the Frankfurt School, have been skeptical that any significant revolution, even
spiritual, is possible under such conditions, but perhaps social improvement
can be made in small increments.
It’s better than nothing. And if I learned anything
wrestling with Cornel West’s The American Evasion of Philosophy, it is that progressive change is part of that
peculiarly American brand of philosophy known as pragmatism. So perhaps there
is hope for us as Americans and we are not doomed, like Gatsby reaching for the
green light on Daisy’s pier, to never grasp what we seek.
And with that, I return to Ithaca, hopefully having achieved
a better understanding of The Great
Gatsby. Odysseus had a lot of work to do after his return, and I doubt I am
done with The Great Gatsby, but for
the present, I’m content to put the book back on the shelf.
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