In the summer of 2008, I published a quickly forgotten book titled Why We Hate Us: American Discontent in the New Millennium. It was not optimistic. But it came out at an optimistic moment. In August 2008, it seemed clear that America was about to elect its first Black president.
I was out of step. In a harrowing appearance on The Colbert Report, Stephen Colbert described me as a grumpy old man yelling at the neighbor kids to get off the lawn. In nearly every interview, I was asked if I was still pessimistic about the direction of the country. I was.
Why We Hate Us tried to explain the causes of American discontent circa 2008: the evaporation of trust; the growing polarization of politics; the decline of neighborliness; the growing list of psychological ills springing from the use of new technology; the historically high concentration of wealth.
In short, why the collective we was coming to literally hate us, our own culture and institutions.
The most influential thinker to tackle these questions was Robert Putnam, the author of Bowling Alone, which described how the decline of Rotary clubs, Scout troops, bowling leagues, and the like eroded the social capital individuals and communities need to flourish.
In a recent interview in the New York Times, Putman said, “I’ve been working for most of my adult life to try to build a better, more productive, more equal, more connected community in America, and now I’m 83 and looking back, and it’s been a total failure.”
In 2008, I had been reporting on American politics for 23 years, mostly at CBS News and National Public Radio. I thought the next chapters of American history would be dark. But I wasn’t hopeless. I was in on the early days of digital news and thought it could help save high-quality journalism. I thought our social malaise was cyclical and would start to turn around.
But I missed the mark. I was too optimistic.
I didn’t foresee the opioid crisis and “deaths of despair.” I didn’t foresee the stark rise in teen depression. I sure as hell didn’t foresee January 6.
I can’t understand how January 6 has been erased and how a convicted-felon godfather is favored to win the presidency with the near unanimous support of the once conservative Republican Party. Social media and disinformation engines have overwhelmed honest journalism. And now, after the attempt on Trump’s life, it seems likely that this election campaign, already filled with violent rhetoric, will get even more tribal and vicious.
Pessimism is now the norm in America. I’m not sure I know any optimists when it comes to the state of the union. I still have a kernel of hopefulness about small communities, but I’m worried about that now, too.
Since I stopped reporting and writing political columns in 2021, I have spent my time helping a nonprofit bring civic education to poorly served schools across the country. I chase striped bass and torture tomato and raspberry plants in Truro. And I religiously read the excellent coverage of the last and best four towns on Cape Cod in the Provincetown Independent. (Full disclosure: I am a shareholder.)
I am struck by the ferocity of the civic arguments on the Outer Cape. I don’t claim to understand them well. I don’t know the back stories or the players. I don’t know if these towns resemble rural communities across the country. I do know how thorny the issues are. But it makes me sad to watch what seems like rising aggression and mistrust in the politics of these towns that have so many unique advantages.
I hope I am misreading the tides here. When it comes to the Outer Cape, as opposed to the whole country, I actually am a little bit optimistic.
Journalist Dick Meyer volunteers for Mikva Challenge, a youth organization in Chicago. He lives in Washington, D.C. and Truro.
