Rediscovering America
To start off with something stereotypically American, here is an opinion you didn’t ask for: one of the reasons the US have been singularly successful over the past 100 years or so, is that generations of new Americans landed on these shores, and were forced to — very consciously — grapple with the idea of what America means. Naturally, they selectively played up the good parts; the parts that stand in starkest contradiction to what they escaped from back home. As they got established, and assimilated, they re-fed the wider culture these improved and expanded ideas as the authoritative definition of what it means to be an American.
So, if you are a Protestant coming to America from Europe in the 17th or 18th centuries, it was imperative to you that this place be about religious tolerance. And if you immigrated to the US from Eastern Europe in the 70’s or 80’s, the US was all about the free markets. You can have property rights here, you can get rich, and best of all you didn’t have to worry about a government lackey demanding their cut. It is no wonder then, that starting in the 80’s, “free markets” became one of the defining traits of what most Americans considered the idea of America.
In all these cases, what these immigrants imagined, or — more accurately needed — this country to be, became what this country believed itself to be. In escaping the failures and shortcomings of their native lands, they projected on their new home the solutions to these problems. And these projections became, for the most part, self-fulfilling prophecies.
I started reflecting on this recently because, as a new citizen, this year will be my first time voting for a U.S. president. An event I’ve always expected to be exciting and solemn. Feelings that were tempered down by candidates who are neither. And because, 9 years after arriving here, it just hit me that I am actually an “immigrant”. And because a criminal psychopath just shot 50 people for the crime of enjoying life, and I was immediately required, having been born to parents, like his, who found themselves Muslim, to either condemn the act, or reflexively rail against guilt by association. And because I recently embarked on the uniquely Quixotic (i.e. American) journey that starts with “I quit; I want to do my own thing”. And because I have a 3 years old who started asking “daddy, where am I from?”, And because I discovered “Hamilton” and found myself inexplicably tearing up every time Hamilton’s arrival in New York was noted with the words “another immigrant.. comin’ up from the bottom”.
And because so many people, on so many sides of so many issues are telling me every day that America is broken in one way or the other. And because that doesn’t make sense to me. And because, as I explained earlier, as an immigrant, it just hit me that I am the one required to make sense of it. To, basically, rediscover America.
It would be presumptive of me to try to state what “America” stands for. It means so many different things, to so many different people. But I can reflect on my own experience, on where I came from and contrast that with what I cherish most about my adoptive land.
I come from Egypt. A country whose history is as deep as its present is dysfunctional. It’s a beautiful country with thousands of stories in every corner, and millions of warm and passionate people who are capable of great things. But hundreds of years of disillusionment, mismanagement, and experimentation with all sorts of defunct ideologies (Arab-nationalism, communism, Islamism) took their toll on the people’s optimism, and initiative. Today, there is a palpable sense of cynicism about life. Life is hard — like it is everywhere — but in complicated, intractable ways. There are successful, brilliant people there, but so many things had to be right for them to succeed. And given their talents, they would have been even more successful in another place.
Contrasting that, there is an admirable plainness to life in America. If you think “plain” is an odd compliment, you are probably right. “Plain” is usually associated with lack of depth, sophistication, or refinement (incidentally, all descriptions an Old World elite would consider very fitting for Americans). However, a “plain truth” also means a self-evident truth. An end that requires the least amount of effort to get to from its causes. Straightforwardness, if you will. And America is nothing if not straightforward. The good, and the bad of the country, and the people, make sense. With some exceptions, if you are intelligent, study hard, and go to a good school you can better your social station. If you work hard, you will make more money, and can better provide for your family.
It is not necessarily “fair” per se. If you start at the very bottom, and work very hard, you might not get as far as somebody who is born to considerable means to start with. But you will get ahead. And there is always the chance, however miniscule, that you end at the top or very near.
It also doesn’t mean that everything works out well. There is a straightforward way from bad means to bad ends. If you start with slavery, you end up with racism, discrimination, and police brutality. It is not good. But it is explainable.
It is also never “ideal”. Take the current presidential elections. It might be dismaying to only have a choice of two candidates with very obvious blemishes on their records, and their integrity. However, I’ll contend that the opposite would be odd: to have two people spending inordinate amounts of money and time vying for the love and approval of millions of complete strangers, and have them not be psychologically damaged in some way or the other. The specter of a “good” politician is almost always usually that: a specter. The result of ideological, and rhetorical obfuscation. Reflecting on it, I’d rather have my candidates plain and disappointing, than aspirational and false.
But the most important, and most uplifting feature of that plainness, is that it is changeable. History, and politics, weigh very lightly here. There are very few things you can look at and say “this will never change”, or “they will never allow us to do it”. And, as a human being with a sufficient sense of responsibility for their actions, and confidence in their abilities, that seems to be the most you can ask for from a country or a society: the chance to be able to change it to the better.
A little secret that only children who grew up in Egypt, and probably a few other developing countries know, is that we all grew up a little American, in one way or the other. In my, and most of my generation’s, case, translated Disney comics, and their fictional Duckburg, with its elected mayors, workaholic businessman, intrepid inventors, policemen who help people across the street, and burglars who are plainly, and stupidly, are just in it for the money, was our very first glimpse into how a society works. It was plain and obvious. And then I grew up to a country that was anything but.
In a way, coming to America feels like a step towards Duckburg. It sounds childish, and naive. But maybe that’s the point.
