We Are The Asteroid

Having been raised in Canada, I wasn't raised with any of the jingoistic patriotism that is pretty common in the United States, and that cuts across all partisan divides. If anything, growing up in Canada inoculated me against it. So I've never had much of anything invested in the idea of “the future of America.” Whether it's great or not, I care little, except insofar as this is the place where I live and I'd prefer my life to be better rather than worse (and I hope the same for my fellow Americans too).

But whether America exists in the future, whether it rises to greatness or fades into obscurity, is a question about which I am indifferent. Truth be told, I’m probably pretty hostile to it. Of all the things to care about, a nation doesn't strike me as one, and I'm not sympathetic to the idea that something unique would be lost if the American experiment failed.

Or put differently, if America failed, a unique place would be lost, but it's a unique place in the sense that all places are unique, and not because of any of the nationalist arguments that try to convince us that America somehow represents the height of modernity or the teleological culmination of world history, or what have you. America is a place, a sometimes nice and oftentimes cruel place, but it's just one place among many. And lots of those other places are quite a bit more humane.

Which leads me to my point: is there any real, empirical evidence, be that evidence past or present, that the American future will be brighter than its present? And if not, should we care?

I haven't seen the movie "Don't Look Up," but from what I can tell, it seems to do a good job dramatizing the will to self-destruction that makes this place tick. And rather than being the result of the nihilistic desires of a few people, this problem is systemic.

For instance, in the last few years, there has been a welcome revival of social activism on the basis of gender, race, and class injustices. But aside from modest gains, these movements have mostly illuminated the inertia of a system intent on our collective ruin. Consequently, while someone like Bernie Sanders demonstrated that there is a massive grassroots hunger for social democratic policies, it's mostly demonstrated the degree to which American systems of power, including and especially the Democratic Party, will fight tooth and nail against anyone who wants to alter this country's trajectory.

And maybe this is what "Don't Look Up" gets wrong: it's not that an asteroid is hurtling towards us, it's that we've decided to hurtle ourselves towards it. Which means, we are the asteroid. And any attempt to change our trajectory will be met with the most active of resistance.

If we were living a hundred years ago, I might have a different conclusion. Then, there was greater resistance, but also, power wasn't quite as organized and overwhelming as it is now. But institutionalized power in the United States is like nothing we've seen before, because the type of power to which we are subject has never before existed. And it is an unprecedented and staggering level of power that is wholly oriented towards oar collective destruction.

I'm guessing that the obvious response to these thoughts is that I'm just being pessimistic. And maybe that's true. But this conclusion doesn’t seem the consequence of an attitude that I have, but of a real inability to imagine—in an empirically realistic way—how change might happen here. In other words, is there any reasonable, empirical basis on which to believe that America still might have a bright future. Or are we all just experiencing what it's like to live in a rapidly and violently degenerating empire?

I guess what I'm asking is if there is any way forward for this thing we call America? And I guess what I'm also asking is if we should care? Obviously, the further dissolution of this country will deliver untold suffering, and about that we should care. But about this social and political thing that we call America, I'm not so sure. And maybe letting go of this narrow, nationalist view of the future can free us to imagine a brighter future in which America isn't a part, except, perhaps, as a memory.