To us revolution is a spectator sport. We look on with curiosity as Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya evolve, revolve, transform. Their struggles get our attention, maybe even our admiration. But they don’t apply to us. We are unchanging, static.
We had our revolution a long time ago and that was that. Having gotten out from under King George we constituted ourselves as the Great Exception. We hold this truth above all to be self- evident: that we are God’s gift to history.
Nice sentiment with which to jumpstart a new country, but to be still living by that concept 235 years late is like a 45 year old still expecting to grow up to be president.
Exceptionalism, American Exceptionalism. You hear it a lot these days. It’s become almost a litmus test for politicians, especially because we seem to be performing so dubiously in so many areas (war, politics, economy): Do you think America is exceptional? And you’d better know the right answer.
“Exceptional” to an Exceptionalist means not just “unique” (all nations are different from all others). And not just “outstanding or terrific,” since few would disagree that we have our fine moments (salvation of the world in World War Two; first to the moon, the Wright brothers, jazz, five-string banjo, Moby Dick, Dr. Strangelove, etcetc.)
No: to an exceptionalist “exceptional” means an exception to the rules of history, to the rise and fall of nations.
Sure, we’ve had our little problems along the way : near genocide of the native population; like other countries, slavery as a key economic tool. A terrible civil war. The Great Depression, when everything seemed to be coming apart at the seams.
Measured by percentage of the population in jail, distribution of our great national wealth, ranking in healthcare or education, we would seem to be if anything exceptional in the wrong direction.
But despite these glitches, to the exceptionalist something in our very essence remains unsullied. Sure we look down on our game these days, even decadent in certain ways. But we aren’t, can’t be, because by definition—says so here in the small print somewhere we are the ultimate teflon nation.
Most of the rest of the world lives—even those with miraculous economic recoveries even surpassing our own — in the shadow of the world wars, of Hiroshima, of The Holocaust, of the Cold War. But to us, despite our huge losses in World War two, a lot of this still feels like Old World stuff to which we are by definition immune.
No “sadder but wiser” for us. We continue, despite all the evidence, to be
> the “can do” nation even when we can’t (as in recent wars), whose productive capacity has for years been outsourced;
> the new world when we are no longer young;
> a classless society when clearly we’ve always had classes and our distribution of wealth is one of the most unequal in the world;
> the shining beacon of hope of the world when we look more like an exploitative scourge to much of it;
> the only place where “It can’t happen here“ when clearly it can and does.
All such contradictions are water off this duck’s back.
The opposite of exceptionalism is not hopelessness, or the acceptance of mediocrity but replacing the arrogance of innocence with humility, naivete with self-knowledge. Getting down off our high horse, joining history, the world, the human race. Seeing ourselves as others see us (Robbie Burns), as part of the problem and not just the solution (Eldridge Cleaver).
It’s hard to believe that we are having a serious debate about this after all that’s gone down. But apparently we are. And actually it’s not at all clear that we are capable of a serious debate about it.
As would be anywhere else needless to say, the quasi-religious concept of exceptionalism is exceptionally seductive form of Americanism and should be labelled, like other intoxicating products: Dangerous to your health.
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