The Brooklyn Rail

“A constitution that is made for all nations is made for none.”
–Joseph de Maistre

“Agitation and mutability are inherent in the nature of democratic republics, just as stagnation and sleepiness are the laws of absolute monarchies.”
–Alexis de Tocqueville

“The stakes … are too high for government to be a spectator sport.”
–Barbara Jordan

Any one of us Americans who has spent time in Europe during the summer months will readily acknowledge how profoundly old and rich its history and its culture really are. We often spend a good deal of our time in museums that are air conditioned, or in old churches and abbeys that are naturally cool. But almost everywhere else—whether in cafes, restaurants, bars, trains, or even airports—the air is often uncomfortably hot. By contrast, here in America—a 249-year-old nation that is often considered by Europeans to lack any legitimate culture except the drive to create something out of nothing—almost every public place is comfortably air-conditioned all summer long.

I thought about this contrast while I was traveling in Europe recently, and realized that our so-called “self-creation” has created a whole new atmosphere in the world—both literally and figuratively. Whatever we Americans may lack in history is energetically compensated for by a will to shape the present in the most active way possible. And this, of course, creates its own set of issues, which have been remarked upon by several prominent writers. In Notes of a Native Son, James Baldwin asserts, “I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.” In American Pastoral, Philip Roth holds that “everything you say says either more than you wanted it to say or less than you wanted it to say; and everything you do does either more than you wanted it to do or less than you wanted it to do.” And Henry Miller, in The Air-Conditioned Nightmare, observes that:

A new world is not made simply by trying to forget the old. … Our world is a world of things. It is made up of comforts and luxuries, or else the desire for them. What we dread most, in facing the impending débâcle, is that we shall be obliged to give up our gew-gaws. … We are not peaceful souls; we are smug, timid, queasy and quaky.

The term “Ugly American,” which was popularized by the 1958 book of the same name by William J. Lederer and Eugene Burdick, emphasizes the many imperfections among our fellow Americans—our often being self-absorbed, arrogant, and ignorant of local customs, among other things—as substitutions for self-effacing inadequacies in every measure humanly possible. Yet, the influences of American contemporary culture on European culture are broadly and vividly present, whether in the visual arts, in various kinds of conceptual and performance art, or in music and literature—not only in obvious genres such as the blues, jazz, and rock ’n roll, but also in other experimental fields, including poetry, fiction, film, theater, dance, and so on. And this makes it even more imperative that, since America is today at the center of the world stage, we must be especially careful not to become reluctant participants in world culture, and acknowledge the need to recalibrate our natural resources and boundless energy, so as not to fall asleep at the wheel.

We should remind ourselves of the phrase, “When America sneezes, the world catches a cold.” Also, our recent entanglement in the war against Iran should remind us that although America hates war, it hates losing a war even more. So now we’ll have to wait and see how asymmetrical occurrences or unintended perverse consequences may arise. On the home front, what are we to do? How can we create new equilibriums to resolve the fiscal and institutional crises we face, while restoring faith and confidence in the global common interests? Though it may be true that anti-American sentiment is real everywhere—at home and across the world—it’s equally true that the line for visas to enter the USA is potentially the longest ever experienced.

Now may be a good time for us to reassess where we have been, and how we got where we now are in this weird and wonderful place called America: a place that we have always called free and open, but where the back-and-forth swings of our social and political pendulums are more extreme than anywhere else on earth. We should mobilize who we wish to be and who we are, as we have done with terrific poise and resilience in the arts and humanities. We should remind ourselves that our participation in activities that have promoted global well-being is not only good for the rest of the world, but for us. And at the same time, we must realize that we have gone a bit astray since the implementation of the Clinton doctrine, titled “From Containment to Enlargement.” On one hand, it was perfectly justified after WWII for us to be deeply involved in projects such as the European Recovery Program, otherwise known as the Marshall Plan, which provided roughly 13.3 billion dollars (roughly 160 billion in today’s dollars) of assistance to seventeen countries. But, on the other hand, it would be hard to justify how America has been unfailingly sending 350 billion dollars per year as security assurance to a prosperous Europe during the last three decades. As we all know, the question of the US-led world order is imminent, and it must be addressed urgently. We should have enough faith in ourselves to reassert our imperfections as part of our strength, not as weakness, for one great aspect of America’s endless failures is that they often become brilliant successes.

In considering America as a free and open society—as opposed to closed and secretive societies such as Russia, China, North Korea, and others that are ruled by autocrats—we need to guard against being ruled by rigid doctrines—whether political, social, moral, or religious. We should also consider that although we are thoroughly “air-conditioned,” we do not provide enough of the fresh air that comes from public support of culture, as is the case in Europe, Asia, and elsewhere in the world. Our fellow artists and creative colleagues of all stripes, colors, and spectrums miraculously find their ways by working at odd jobs to put food on the table while expressing their “inner freedom.” It would be good if our politicians, businessmen, and businesswomen could give greater tangible appreciation for their fellow cultural workers, for the products of the “inner freedom” that is one of the bases of freedom for us all.

Onward, upward with love, courage, and cosmic optimism as ever,

Phong H. Bui

P.S. This issue is dedicated to the recent passings of our friends and mentors, including video and installation pioneer Dara Birnbaum (1946–2025); poet, author, composer, and the “thinking-man’s pianist” Alfred Brendel (1931–2025); brilliant architect and philanthropist Graham Gund (1940–2025); influential art collector and philanthropist Leonard Lauder (1933–2025); visionary founder of Galerie Lelong and book publisher Daniel Lelong (1933–2025); legendary sculptor Joel Shapiro (1941–2025); essential historian of American avant-garde cinema P. Adams Sitney (1944–2025); and epochal painter Thornton Willis (1936–2025). We salute their profound contributions to our culture. We’d also like to send our deepest condolences to their respective family members, close friends, and admirers here and across the globe. Lastly, we’re thrilled to welcome artist, theorist, historian extraordinaire Jill H. Casid as our new Editor-at-Large. We are grateful to Min Park for having been a Programs Associate par excellence, and we wish her the best in her next journey. We’re excited to work with Valyn Mogensen as a summer intern, while welcoming back Maisie Molot for a repeat.