Americans are Unbecoming
  
  
  by Akim Reinhardt
  
  
To study American history is to chart the paradox of e pluribus unum.
From
   the outset, it is a story of conflict and compromise, of disparate and 
  increasingly antagonistic regions that somehow formed the wealthiest and
   most powerful empire in human history.  For even as North and South 
  grew further apart, their yawning divide was bridged by a dynamic 
  symbiosis that fed U.S. independence, enrichment, and expansion.  The 
  new empire at once grew rapaciously and tore itself apart.  It strode 
  from ocean to ocean and nearly consumed itself completely in the Civil 
  War, which all these years later, remains the deadliest chapter in 
  American history by far, two world wars not withstanding. 
After 
  the bloody crucible, a series of historical forces began to homogenize 
  the American people, slowly drawing them together and developing a more 
  cohesive national culture.  As has been pointed out before, Americans 
  began to say "the United States is" instead of "the United States are."
But
   now, in the second decade of the 21st century, America is possibly 
  coming apart once more.  That hard won but ever tenuous inclusion and 
  oneness is beginning to disintegrate.  Yet there is no fear of 
  returning to a bygone era of balkanized sectional divides, of North 
  versus South.  Instead, the increasingly polarized nation now seems to 
  be fracturing along ideological lines.  
In this essay I would 
  like to briefly explore the history of how Americans came together under
   a common definition "America," and how they may be coming apart again. 
   I don't wish to examine the rise and fall of an empire, but rather 
  its citizens' ever-shifting sense of who they are and what their nation 
  should be.
  
  
  
  
  
  **
  The earliest European colonies dotting the 
  North American coast were born amid rural isolation and international 
  competition.  Commerce may have kept the new French, Dutch, Spanish, and
   British outposts tenuously connected to the larger Atlantic world, but 
  imperial rivalries, mercantile restrictions, and the sheer expanse of 
  North America fostered barriers as well.
In what would eventually
   become the United States, regional differences quickly sprouted up in 
  the Chesapeake, the mid-Atlantic, and New England.  Even as Great 
  Britain squeezed first the Netherlands (1661) and then France (1763) out 
  of North America, its own colonies continued developing distinct local 
  and regional cultures, economies, and social orders.  
That the 
  thirteen of them south of Canada came together to launch a revolution 
  was not because of a natural affinity among them, but despite the 
  differences between them.  It took years and considerable begging, 
  wrangling, and finagling before largest of them (Virginia) found the 
  resolve to support the upstart problem-child among them (Massachusetts) in its 
  dispute with the crown.  And at that, the rebellious colonies were less 
  interested in permanently coming together than in simply helping each other
   escape the royal yoke.
After achieving independence, these 
  thirteen new states did not rush to throw their lots in with one another.  
  Rather, they kept a safe distance by constructing a threadbare 
  confederacy.  It was something akin to a political friends-with-benefits
   arrangements.  Mutual obligations were minimal.
But like so many
   intimate relationships among commitment-phobes with guarded 
  expectations, it wasn't long before what was once casual began to buckle
   under the pressure of inevitable complications and entanglements.
Will you be my date to my sister's wedding?  Will the new national government take on the thirteen states' aggregate war debt?
It's a slippery slope.
Not
   long thereafter, the founders popped the question.  On bended knee, they 
  offered a new constitution that would create a stronger central 
  government.  But there was considerable resistance, trepidation, and 
  debate about whether this would be more like a marriage or simply a case
   of moving in together to save on the rent.
The degree of 
  commitment would remain a fundamentally unsettled question until the 
  Civil War.  Along the way, the United States continued to expand.  And 
  in doing so, it continued replicating older regional divisions.
As
   settlers made their was across the Appalachian mountains, into the Old 
  Southwest (the deep South) and Old Northwest (the Midwest), rural 
  isolation remained the dominant pattern.  Throuhgo
ut 19th century, the United States would remain primarily a nation of 
  agricultural societies.  On the surface it seemed a lot of Protestant 
  farmers.  But scratch a bit beneath the surface and one finds an expanding 
  checkerboard of various religious denominations, economic models, and 
  social orders.
The most obvious divide was between North and 
  South, with slavery phasing out in the former and metastasizing in the latter,
   particularly with the rise of the cotton economy.  But beyond that, 
  each of the larger regions was sub-divided into various sub-regions.  
  The North featured not just small farmers but also nascent cities and 
  industry.  And more than large slave plantations, the South was also 
  home to small yeoman homesteads, and a mass of impoverished whites, 
  particularly in those areas not suited for large scale agriculture.
The disparity of wealth that slave plantations created in the South was mirrored to some degree in the North as urbanization and industry steadily emerged. Semi- and unskilled labor was on the rise, and more and more independent skilled craftsman were losing out  The new cities boasted slums, and excess farm labor was siphoned off into mind-numbing, back-breaking factory work.  
By
   the 1840s, new waves of European immigrants were coming by the 
  millions, especially Irish and Germans.  Most of them avoided the South,
   not wishing to compete with unpaid labor.  Instead, they crowded into 
  the new Northern cities, contributing to new cultural diversity and 
  spurring a nativist, anti-immigrant, anti-catholic backlash.  And for 
  its part, the South expanded its quasi-feudal socio/economic order of 
  rigid hierarchies and resource extraction.  
As the American 
  population grew, demands for resource-rich Indian lands increased.  The
   rate of imperial expansion, at expense of Indian nations, sped up.  And
   the new farms, forests, and mines fed the growing industrial sector of 
  the booming cities.
However, imperial expansion could not ameliorate the ongoing regional tensions.  Rather, it only exacerbated them.
Would
   the new western territories purchased from France, ransacked from 
  Mexico, and all of it stolen in one way or another from Indians, be a 
  staging ground to replicate the Northern or Southern models of 
  development?  
Competition in and over the West only worsened regional tensions and was arguably the biggest factor leading to the Civil War.  Southern agitators did not orchestrate
   secession and form the Confederacy because they feared the North was 
  going to change the South.  They did so because they feared the North would 
  prevent them from expanding their
 slave-based economy and social order 
  into the new territories.  Free of the North, Southern planters eyed 
  not only lands to the West, but also to their South.  They dreamed of annexing parts 
  of the Caribbean and even more of Mexico and beyond.
The North's 
  victory ended Southern political secession.  But cultural cohesion and a unified American identity would take another 
  century.  
  After the war, Northern efforts to reconstruct the 
  South were mixed and temporary.  Early efforts by Radical Republicans to
   ensure legal and political equality for African Americans faced stiff 
  resistence.  By the mid-1870s, Northern will was teetering, and by 
  decade's end, blacks had been forced back into a state of coerced labor,
   political exclusion, social persecution, and abject poverty.  
  Sharecroppers and tenant farmers instead of slaves, they were routinely 
  denied basic political rights and economic opportunities.  The old 
  Southern elite was able to re-establish itself and the old aristocratic 
  social order.  More and more white small farmers lost their land and 
  voting rights as well.  Northern industrialists were happy to keep 
  cotton and other resources flowing.
Amid these conditions, the first step-towards 
  building a unified American identity after the Civil War came 
  at the expense of African Americans and other minorities.  By the latter
   part of the 19th century, Northern and Southern whites found common 
  ground in a new brand of virulent, pseudo-scientific racism.  It 
  infected American culture as whites put aside their former differences, 
  elevated themselves above all of the "colored races," and defined 
  themselves as the true Americans.
While regional differences 
  remained sharp, the turn-of-the-century emphasis on a racialized 
  whiteness allowed white Americans to cast a new national identity, often
   at the expense of minorities.
In the South, African Americans 
  remained extremely marginalized.  In the North, "non-white" Jewish, 
  Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox immigrants, whose numbers swelled 
  beginning in 1900, were labeled as the Other.  In the West, a 
  kaleidoscope of bigotry proliferated across the vast region.  Hatred of 
  blacks, Latinos, Asians, and Indians each grabbed the spotlight in 
  various locales from the Great Plains to the Pacific Coast.
Those
   groups thought to be redeemable, such as Indians and some European 
  immigrants, were pressured to assimilate, to adopt White Anglo Saxon 
  Protestant norms.  At the same time, groups marked irreconcilably 
  foreign or inferior, such as blacks and Asians, were completely 
  shunned.  Asian immigration was banned in the 1880s. Shortly thereafter,
   blacks were subjected to Jim Crow apartheid in the South and parts of 
  the West, and more de facto form but still very strict forms of 
  segregation elsewhere.
By 1903, President Theodore Roosevelt was 
  warning the nation that white people were in danger of would committing "race suicide."  That "white" women had a duty to produce more white babies, lest the non-white population (including southern and eastern Europeans) outpace them.
But
   other, more neutral forces also helped smooth out regional differences 
  and establish a unified sense of what it meant to be "American."  
  Developments in transportation, particularly the railroad, increased 
  contact.  So too did the new communications infrastructure such as
   the telephone.  Also important was the new mass media.  First national 
  magazines and then radio and movies presented people all across the 
  American empire with consistent cultural messages.
Homogenization was underway.
The
   pivotal event that began to move the United States past a racialized 
  conception of what it means to be American was World War II.
The 
  war's exigencies demanded sacrifices from the whole of society.  
  Under this pressure, racial institutions and programs began to crack.  
  For example, black and white often worked side by side in defense 
  plants.  And there was almost instant blowback.
In the summer of 1943, approximately 250 race riots erupted in 47 cities across America.
But
   there was no turning back.  You couldn't put the genie back in the 
  bottle.  After the war, the Civil Rights movements waged by blacks, 
  Latinos, Indians, women, gays, and others, challenged the exclusivist 
  definition of "American."
At the same time, mass communication 
  and popular culture furthered the grand homogenizing process, with TV at
   center stage.  And in the political arena, the Cold War continued 
  WWII's function of binding Americans together through fear of a common 
  enemy.
As Americans reconceptualized their whites-only version 
  identity during the post-war era, the Melting Pot emerged as an 
  alternative: all the different cultures blending together into a 
  distinctly American stew, though with WASP as the dominant flavor.  And by 
  the 1980s, multiculturalism began to assert itself.  The 
  Melting Pot metaphor was replaced by the Salad Bowl, in which all the 
  different ingredients are still distinct. 
That's not to say that
   racism and sectionalism had been completely erased from the American 
  psyche by the end of the 20th century.  Far from it.  But both had faded
   greatly compared to earlier eras.  And 
  
indeed, by the dawn of the 21st 
  century, the popular definition of what it meant to be "American" had 
  broadened considerably.  
Yet here we stand, in the 2013, 
  staggered by divisions among Americans so deep that we wonder aloud if 
  the national political system can remain functional.  We are nearly drowning in a 
  cacophony of shouting matches.
But the new fractures aren't the 
  result of provincial sectionalism, or even debased racism.  Rather, the nation is segmented by a new spider web of ideological differences
Of
   course there have always ideological differences.  And in a nation that
   now boasts well over 300 million people, there always will be.  But 
  those differences are on the verge of rupturing the common ground upon 
  which Americans stand. 
Many of the forces that helped homogenized the American people are either radically transformed or now absent.  
The Cold War is over; Iraq wars and Al Qaeda attacks can no longer stand in.
Multiculturalism
   maybe superior to the mid-century melting pot motif in many ways, but 
  it offers no unifying vision for what it means to be "American."  
And
   communication technologies have exploded.  What Ma Bell and Hollywood 
  helped bring together, cable and the world wide web have helped tear 
  asunder.  The cultural monoliths that once bound Americans together 
  through a common experience, have been eclipsed by the new 
  multipiplicity of fractured and individualized media.  Those 
  homogenizing forces that helped to moderate American opinion have been 
  honeycombed, creating ideological and cultural cells into which 
  Americans are now free to descend.
**
This is not a 
  moralistic polemic.  I am not in league with the 1990s social critics 
  who decried multiculturalism as a divisive force and pined to maintain 
  whatever degree of homogeneity they could.
Or as Arthur Schlesinger put it, there was too much pluribus and not enough unum.
  Pish posh to that.  I'm not pie-eyed.  Change brings both good and bad.
  
I don't know where this change will lead America, good bad or otherwise.  And I'm a historian by trade, which means I appreciate how foolhardy it is to predict the future.  But indeed, the change is unfolding before us.
  
Americans, it seems, are unbecoming.
  --
  Akim Reinhardt's website is The Public Professor.
  
  
  Posted by Akim Reinhardt at 12:30 AM | Permalink
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
     
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