BOSTON — Visiting the United States this month after several
years as an expatriate in France, I am fascinated to see this giant
American bubble inside which live 310 million people, about half of
them contented and half of them permanently angry at something.
Of course one must be cautious in comparing civilizations
but the peculiarities of the United States leap out at you —
ils sautent aux yeux, as the French say, they jump at your
eyes.
I say “bubble” because in three weeks of schmoozing with
relatives and friends, most of them accomplished professionals, I
sense a drift toward willful isolationism. Iraq and Afghanistan
have never come up in conversation without my prodding. Only a cab
driver volunteered an opinion and that was on corruption among
military contractors. “These thieves make my skin crawl,” he said,
taking three fives from me for a short ride across town.
The suburbs of Boston are probably typical of the educated
U.S. population so I have taken them as representative. One Sudbury
matron explained to me her apathy about American wars by the fact
that she and her friends know no one personally involved. “It all
seems to abstract,” she said. She seemed equally unconcerned
about the trillions of American dollars poured into the wars
although she does hate paying her taxes.
From a visitor’s perch, the only people intellectually
engaged in the rights and wrongs of the war effort seem to be
policy wonks, professional opinionators and NPR junkies.
They should all read Bill Pfaff’s latest book, The
Irony of Manifest Destiny. He argues that the war on terror is
a huge and unnecessary waste more suited to “good police work.”
Pfaff echoes the sentiments of many expats who believe that
Americans, unlike Europeans, love to see their military in action.
The New York Times dismissed Pfaff’s engaging thesis with
a one-paragraph review buried inside a recent Sunday books
section.
A related contrast is the volatile national debate on
often-marginal issues that surface on cable television and the
blogosphere. Europeans enjoy a confrontation too but they are
better at marshaling an argument and pursuing a point in depth,
sometimes with more courage than bluster. Just before leaving
France I was riveted to a discussion between a government minister
and a veiled Muslim woman. “How am I to trust you?” the minister
asked. “You can see me but I cannot see you.” France has since gone
on to ban the burqa in public.
A visitor to the United States also notices the zigzags of
public discourse here. Subjects surge to the surface, burn brightly
for a 24-hour news cycle, and vanish, as in the cases of Shirley
Sherrod, the latest hit-Iran predictions, and anything President
Barack Obama does or says.
Of all the divisive issues separating the contented from
the angry Americans, Islam is the most emotional. One in four
Americans persist in believing that President Obama is a Muslim,
prompting a general unease throughout the land. Yet France, Germany
and Britain all have larger proportions of Muslim populations and
seem to have found a modus vivendi. Only in Holland has a backlash
formed at the political level.
I tell my European friends to go easy on us, that on a per
capita basis we are only averagely crazy. Now I’m not so sure. I
dropped in at the Boston Public Library one hot morning and find
the place deserted except for the Internet access room. There, 59
of the 60 computers were already occupied at 9:30 a.m. and I got
the last one.
Seated next to me in the aisle was a disturbed woman
wearing a wooly hat staring straight ahead.
All over Boston and Brookline (where I am staying with
relatives) numerous people are wandering the streets unsure of
where they are or who they are. Many are carrying large containers
of cola or coffee. Hospitals, I am told, hurry psychotic patients
back on the street as soon as they are deemed harmless to
themselves or others.
Europe’s healthcare system, including mental healthcare,
is far more measured and compassionate.
Healthcare in Europe is of course an area of sharp
contrast with the United States. On a cost basis alone, I’ll take
Europe any day. Daily blood pressure pills will cost you $1.20 a
month in France compared to $56 in Massachusetts. A friend paid
$160 to fix his broken elbow in Bordeaux. Equivalent care in the
United States would come in at about $700.
But it is the commercialization of U.S. hospitals that
rankle most. Hospitals were once services, not businesses, but now
even prestigious Memorial Sloan-Kettering buys full-page ads to
claim patients “often have better outcomes than those treated
elsewhere.” Who believes advertising?
The plunge in ratings for television news has broadcasters
on both sides of the Atlantic groping for new formats. The French
have been highly innovative. I note here that beleaguered CNN is
desperate, relying on its “CNN babes” — the blondes with the
buzzsaw voices — seemingly hired for their ability to punch
through the screen. One of them is actually named “Yellin.”
Pathetic.
Finally, the oily Larry King is finally departing at 78,
visibly dying onscreen and not just in the show business sense.
Even his staff seems to have walked, leaving him with such swan
songs are yet another interview with Snoop Dogg and a drilldown
into the question “Texting while driving — how dangerous is
it?”
An expat view of U.S. trends may suffer from a snapshot
feel but on the other hand distance can provide clarity, and living
abroad provides the basis for comparison. It’s always useful, I
find, to think outside the bubble.
