America’s 250th anniversary will be much more than a party commemorating the nation’s birth–it will reopen one of our oldest debates: What is the story of America and what should America become? Generally, one story presents the country as a project of liberty and opportunity, while another sees it as one contradicted by slavery, exclusion—illiberalism. Each story has its points, but neither can provide an accurate or unifying narrative for America at 250.
I see this momentous occasion as a chance to reshape the story we tell about ourselves, a story that both acknowledges the country’s failures and celebrates its achievements. We must consider a new American narrative: one that gives all Americans reason to believe in it.
Instead of prescribing this new narrative, I want to talk about how we can create it. But what is a narrative? In this instance, a narrative is the overarching story a society tells about itself to establish pride, ethos, and meaning. This is a very human thing to do, but things get tricky when clashing narratives exist in a single space. So how do we begin to find a narrative we can all get behind?
The writer and activist Jonathan Smucker wrote about the power of narrative and provided a methodology, the “Anatomy of a Political Narrative.” He splits narrative into ten parts, each represented by a question.
- Who is the “we” in this narrative?
- Who is the “other” in this narrative?
- Who are the protagonists?
- Who are the antagonists (villains or threats)?
- What is the conflict?
- What are the emotional appeals of the narrative?
- What are the symbols and images?
- What are the assumptions already needed?
- What are the narrative’s vulnerabilities?
- What is the deadwood (What are distractions? What are no longer relevant?)?
I invite readers to use Smucker’s questions as a thought experiment about what you think the story of America is compared to what it could be. What would a unifying narrative look like? How would the protagonists and antagonists change? What emotions and symbols would align with this narrative?
But let’s say one uses these questions to create an ideal story of America; how would one go about convincing others? It shouldn’t be a surprise that some rhetoricians have tried this. The rhetorician Walter Fisher, best known for his work on narrative theory, uses “narrative rationality” to denote the idea that humans are primarily storytelling beings and that “the world is a set of stories” to be chosen to help make sense of the world. Fisher argues that for a narrative to be embraced by others, it must have two things: probability and fidelity.
Narrative probability is the coherence of the story. Taking a cue from Smucker, does the story make sense? More specifically, does the story hang together? Are its events, facts, and characters consistent?
Narrative fidelity is a story’s familiarity. Does the story resonate with a people’s values, experiences, and other trusted stories? Based on experience, what consequences can people expect from abiding by a narrative? Lastly, does the narrative appeal to the best in us and send the message that we matter? If one creates a narrative that answers these questions in the affirmative, one has created a strong narrative.
That said, the last question about mattering may be the most important one. According to philosopher Rebecca Newberger Goldstein, we all have a mattering instinct: a longing to “demonstrate that the reason we subjectively feel like we matter is because we objectively do.” Mattering derives from “the need to persuade ourselves that we are truly deserving of all the attention that we must give ourselves to pursue our lives.” Thus, for a narrative to take hold, it has to be the story of how a particular group, or the individuals within that particular group, matter. In America, that’s no small feat.
Perhaps the best way to find such a story is not to create one but to build upon another. The philosopher William James suggested this in an essay titled “Pragmatism and Common Sense,” in which “common sense” is used like narrative rationality. James noticed that new thoughts are an alteration of previous thoughts and thought systems (e.g., narratives) as well. James likens this to adding an addition to a house instead of tearing it down to make a new one or repurposing a bottle instead of buying another.
“You may alter your house ad libitum, but the ground plan of the first architect persists—you can make great changes, but you cannot change a Gothic church into a Doric temple. You may rinse and rinse the bottle, but you can’t get the taste of the medicine or whiskey that first filled it wholly out.” Conservation and progress coexist.
So, instead of using Smucker’s questions and Fisher’s concepts to create a new story of America, perhaps we can build on an old one. Regarding the story of America, this would mean creating a narrative that still has the “taste” of the American creed and presents the country as the land of the free and home of the brave, where all pursue life, liberty, and happiness.
Precedents have been set; we have already altered America’s story by allowing a more diverse group of people access to the American dream. Real, legal tolerance was not part of our story until relatively recently, but the ratification of tolerance has been a positive change. What new alterations are necessary to make an accurate and motivational Story of America?
I believe this July 4 should inspire an honest and aspirational story that promotes liberty, equality, and opportunity. Yet, that story should also acknowledge its imperfections. Thus, we need a story of America that expands who may claim its ideals, insists that we all matter, and maintains a positive outlook on its future. Perhaps this is less a new story and more a next chapter in one that is now 250 years old and counting.