Habits of The Heart

The Pursut of Happiness 2t
20 Habits oJtlrc Heart
cornmitments. In the language they use, their lives sound more

isolated
Rorna-n Catholic Church' drawn
Wayne has gradually reentered the as we have observed them, they actually are.
to apply the insights of the and arbitrary than,
bv the exampt. of , p'i'i *no tl" ""t-pted the united Thus all four of the persons whose voices we have heard assume that
;:il;,';;.;..i;; tiberation" to conditions in goals of a good life. For Brian
"f to consider a legal career' in which he there is something arbitrary about the
States. He has utg""1"'io"'ty palmer, the goal of a good life is to achieve the priorities you have set for
1tt7' [n-spite of these moves to
"tro give
could devote hi-,.tfto ft'biit "tuit" vourself. But how do you know that your present priorities are better
more substance and l'tto" to his
politic'l ontt'n'' his political vo- better than those ofother people? Because you
job of xplaining and developing.his own iha' thot. ofyour past, or
cabulary at best ao"' intuitively appreciate that they are right for you at the present time. For
"-f"ii"l As we shall see' his problem is a typi-
sense ofjusti.. ,,,d Ioe Gorman, the goal of a good life is intimate involvement with the
"'plttsibiiity' liberal, and radical alike.
cal one for Americanr,'.orrr..u"tirre, io--utrity and family into which he happens to have been born. But
ho* do you know that in this complicated world, the inherited conven-
tions of your community and your family are better and more impor-
tant, and, therefore, more worthy ofyour allegiance, than those of other
Different Voces communities and families? In the end, you simply prefer to believe that
in-a Common Tradition they are better, at least for you. For Margaret Oldham, the goal of a good
life is liberation from precisely the kinds ofconventions thatJoe Gorman
represent American voices famil-
Brian, Joe, Margaret, and Wayne each holds dear. But what do you aim for once you have been liberated? Sim-
have suggestef wofd
iar to us all. The arguments that we :in^tllt' ply what you yourselfdecide is best for you. For V/ayne Bauer, the goal of
would be versions of controversles that
;;;;g them, if they ever met' in the united States' a good life is participation in the political struggle to create a more just
."il?lvttr. i' p.,ut "td ptl""" moral discourse society. But where should political struggle lead us? To a society in
is that they draw from different
One of the reasons t tftttt ifftrences beneath the which all individuals, not just the wealthy, will have power over their
traditions, which willbe described in the next chapter' Yet own lives. But what are they going to do with that power? V/hatever they
sharpdisagreements,'ft"*lt'""ttthanalittletot'it"tttabouttherela-
society' between private and public
tionship between,f,. i"iti""I and
differences' they all to some de-
good. This i, b.."u", -tpiit "f 'fttt
which we propose to call the
gree share a common oi"i"ottuulary' -t"t
contrast to alternative
"frst language" of A;;;;"" individualism in
"r..o" l.rgi"gt'," which most of us also have' this chapter is drawn
described in
Each of the i"it i"'' itttt we have 'We
are
from one ofthe four projects on which the book is based'
tt*t*ft
average than with the fact that they
less concerned with whether ttt"y "t
use private and public life to
make
represent the ways in which Americans is con-
issue with which our book
sense of their lives' This is the central and
meaning of hislife in marriage
cerned. Brian palmer;, the chief are primarilv
old;;in;n:Jnt Thus*both of them
family; Margaret
gwes his life coherence through
concerned with private life' Joe Gorman .Wavne
Bauer finds a similar
his active concern tiftt f#t of his
town; described in this chapter to find a moral language that will transcend
activis' Both of them have inte-
coherence in his involv"i'tpolitit'l their radical individualism.
lives' V/hether chiefly concerned
grated the public *o'f'ffiiy into their Although we have based our reflections about American traditions of
in caring for others' They
with private o, p,-,urlt lift,;ii'fb"t are involved moral discourse on conversations with over 2oo different Americans,
admirable adults' Yet when each of
are responsible and, ;;;r;ys' the major themes ofour book are already contained in the four stories of
share' what we call the first language
them uses the moral Ji"oot'" thy life quests with which we began this chapter. Those key themes are re-
t'""e diffculty articulating the richness of
their
of individuaftr", tft"y
The Pursuit oJHappiness 23
aa Habits oJthe Heart

Someone like Brian Palmer has, of course, already encountered such
about the nature of suc-
we Americans to ttrl$
.We
difculties. have seen him wrestle with the question of how to inte-
ellv questions: how are the ,.q,rir.-.r"s of
justice in the
meaning .f f*;d.;,
and deep- grate his ambitions to climb the corporate ladder with his desire to have
..rr,-th. *itt' our fellow citizens have
modern world? o"' tti"tot" we have to relv on our traditions to
a good family life. This caused him problems, not only because the pres-
ened our convicrion

r*;il;;h traditions much sures of work sometimes kept him from spending adequate time with
answer those questio;;,

;. wi hr,re.. proi.are,rtose
going to make sense his family, but, even more subtly, because the way of thinking about
more critically than
*"" t" todoing if we world in which we llve' success that helped him move up the corporate ladder was inappropriate
ti t chnging for adequately comprehending the goals of a good family life. And al-
of the chalrenr., nor.J "ptlt though Brian at least recognizes the problems of integrating a successful
work life with a good family life, he seems blithely unconcerned with
the wider political and social implications of his work.
Throughout this book, we will be wrestling, together with Brian
Success
goals of a Palmer and many others, with this question of how to think about the
A-mericans tend to think-of the ultimate relationship between economic success in our centralized, bureaucratized
As we noted above' rnt *1""' to achieve individual economy and the ultimate goals of a successful private and public life.
oood life as matters "t Pt;;i;t'oitt' progress' This domi-
tend to tr'ink' depend on'economic
hoi.., they bout success does
not' however'
nant Americ"'' t"itio" "fni"ti"g to our ultirnate success
s
L.oln rerv much in *I";i;;;""o-[ 'ott""
;:'::*;l'ffi*, ;:i:iTericans stili rived in smarl
farms' the
Freedom
i" Ut"inesses o' o" f"*ity-owned Freedom is perhaps the most resonant, deeply held American value. In
towns and worked '-"tt
; ;;",. " l:: :::ffi m* i{*n : i'J#'.:::'il some ways, it defines the good in both personal and political life. Yet
freedom turns out to meen being left alone by others, not having other
i:i,i;iii'i'::i:;liid.---ti'i:::::;',1;;:'*
nl and public-spirited
citizen' the
a
people's values, ideas, or styles of life forced upon one, being free of
arbitrary authority in work, family, and political life. Vhat it is that one
being
tation for ,""u'tlti'
a ofone's
t"t i"'"""'"Jit'e c"ue"tiotts
meanings of *hi"n *ut of the way m might do with that freedom is much more diffcult for Americans to
t"ot Corman's story' we'can see a relic define. And if the entire social world is made up of individuals, each
local commu"ity' i" "4' jo r"ight have encouraged endowed with the right to be free ofothers' demands, it becomes hard to
which the requirernJ;;" life it titn conventional
of one's 'ht forge bonds of attachment to, or cooperation with, other people, since
one to defne "to'-""tt
'ftt 'ott""
*"#:f :'ryii"'."ic.."r1l:i::::J-,,'ii;l'.:*" such bonds would imply obligations that necessarily impinge on one's
freedom. Thus Margaret Oldham, for example, sets great store on be-
or private bu-
us work in large public
t"#;^;;t-of coming an autonomous person, responsible for her own life, and she
nesses in small up th: hierarchy
work means'o """"tt recognizes that other people, like herself, are free to have their own val-
a
reaucracies' To be
'tt"* "'
of suchcorpo"ti""'vt"1p':c'1"*'::ffiu*'""-t"t1fl ?ll|'i
ues and to lead their lives the way they choose. But then, by the same
related'o token, ifshe doesn t like what they do or the way they live, her only right
;,httiind o " 1"t:
f succe ss ;;"f""'
national manufacturtng
;.o.J ^t::"i*;;i
a large
ot';nnJ;;;kt fort*"ioin"tily is the right to walk away. In some sense, for her, freedom to be left alone
in tife? EvenJoe active part in his
corporation; ""a nt'tJ
pt"y :tl'tT man for his
is a freedom that implies being alone.
btt""t i'iJ*i'nnisjS! For Margaret, as for others influenced by modern psychological ideals,
community
:;,"d .* i:rru;if;iy
factory
"' "lttutit
;**;
"latiotts
i"'J::?i?l:
:)t*^ ::':.:i'],-""*."-,inallv sood promotion to
away f 19m
to be free is not simply to be left alone by others; it is also somehow to be
your own person in the sense that you have defined who you are, decided
for yourself what you want out of life, free as much as possible from the
kl*1;*;11;ft .i:,:i#:'J::?Jifuit*ff ::'; clemands ofconformity to family, friends, or community. From this point
ot view, to be free psychologically is to succeed in separating oneselffrom
requirements of
,"."".ifhg the
economl(
his home town'

The Pursuit of Happiness 25
24 Habits of the Heart

modern circumstances. ForJoe, freedom and community can be recon-
to orie's social milieu'
so
past or by conformitv
ciled only in the nostalgic dream of an idealized past.
by one's the trans-
the values imposed Ths was preciselv V/hile V/ayne Bauer holds what he would conceive to be social and
that one can discover
Ji;;i;;;i Yi""t"-tio feelihat the success he political ideals radically different from those ofJoe Gorman, he is ifany-
formation Brian Palmer'it"tta' H"i"' thing even more committed to the American ideal of freedom. He
had been seekins*" ;;i;;ir"t ot rreeo"':'i.ffi:.,t"t":; would, of course, be willing to limit the freedom of large corporations,
eling it an assertion
T,JJ;;;ide' but his guiding ideal is simply to restore what he sees as the lost freedom
'r,o-th.demands"f ilt:":'**;';l*"tt':"";L"i:"'1'iti;":
ol ofeveryone else. He wants to help give people back a sense that they are
.ii*rty, of course' is that this "'iti:" l'*nich Brian, Margaret' or
effective and can exercise some control over their own lives. But his pas-
sionete commitment to economic and political democracy turns out to
::ilTi:lt:','yj:":::,ir=nim#fti:lHi*:t be strangely without content. He can envision freedom from what he
sees as current forms of economic exploitation, but that freedom is, for
l*J;.i'ii,,j,:."'f ri;tl'ffi *li*ff"',l"fJ; him, a virtual end in itself. The legacy of freedom is still the right ofeach
person to feel powerful, to be free to strive after whatever he or she
:ffi i:*,-i:iJiia:r:::r::ni5:':;.'l::iJ:::"*
*lll' on' t'il own in the context
of his
happens to want. Wayne's political vocabulary, despite its socialist pat-
sel'urntlt' "li'i'" indepen-
i,n;;i il children with
imaqe of "values" ina, is forged from authentically American ore. He waxes passionate
.,wrismall familv' tJ:it:
den tly o r wh at h i' "'1 ;;'; : l;: ;','l l t:nf i"it|','"liffi*,l about how the freedom of individuals is limited by current economic
and political arrangements, but he, too, has diffculty fnding a way to
think about what a more cooperative, just, and equal social order might
h::l*:?"$;31:l;:'"Tii;;il""'is'"deba'le'lha'l
t"'''"'* sort o-f conse"'o'] i'
ptt"luded in Part by the look like. Like other ,{mericans, he thinks of freedom very much as
vision, and come holds' fteedomfrom-from people who have economic power over you, from
t.iit*ion of freedom Brian t as well as per-
both u'lue democratic people who try to limit what you can do or say. This ideal of freedom has
e Go'mat' ii;;;;rut' of free-
sonal freedom'
""d
ut"iJJit' "'" n"rttiti t" social definitio'n the freedom cher-
historically given ,Americans a respect for individuals; it has, no doubt,
be your own person
i" -ttft as stimulated their initiative and creativity; it has sometimes even made
dom-not fte"domo
in, a"'"'o"'Ji JJ; ;; in.'k'.ji' iffitij;t:i:iilii
them tolerant of differences in a diverse society and resistant to overt
ished forms of political oppression. But it is an ideal of freedom that leaves
mr i;"-'l :.''' *:"1"'n' Americans with a stubborn fear of acknowledging structures of power
ilrur"',#r ldt'l
*
orf'
ii:;r; *tvt ii isfamily
J*".'r"'ough"i;;;;v
preciselv the
impos-
and interdependence in a technologically complex society dominated by
American
freed"* tr"tirti' t'i' """-of unite suffolk giant corporations and an increasingly powerful state. The ideal of free-
ideal of
t# t a*ly tp,,it depends' he has
as
dom makes Americans nostalgic for their past, but provides few re-
sible to achieve'
discovered, o"'n' ffi""'"iiurttor
1'. fj*ifi l,Uli:"'J:*i"it
sources for talking about their collective future.
ni**.i'"'ffi
to"'*un'l'''l'r'" ?'*11lf"
r::*;l;;-'l'""*"'l'-:urdnsor
himself is therefore likely
to
shaping Justice
"-iutn ."i,*,,.l',i.;;;;ot"g:'l:',i:tilli:i
b..om. uot
or each
more' it is the freedomJoe believe what he
wants'
wants' Our American traditions encourage us to think ofjustice as a matter of
oerson to ti"' *nJi"il';;;;;*h.i:^1" circumstances-
d"';; t'" t"t to imSro-ve his material equal opportunities for every individual to pursue whatever he or she
and, certainly' freedom of free enterprlse understands by happiness. Equal opportunities are guaranteed by fair
makes t"--i;i;"* tl"g-:rt' residents are at-
that to which the laws and political procedures-laws and procedures applied in the same
communty'The
rnakes Suffolk
''Uta'o-
by; i'i""''.*r'it ttoto*it opportunities tempt way to everyone. But this way of thinking aboutjustice does not in itself
tached mainly tt't itl "f freedom Joe contain a vision ofwhat the distribution of goods in a society would end
most ofit' ""1"'^t a*gt"t" '*"*even to discuss the questlon up looking like if individuals had an equal chance ro pursue their inter-
Gorman h.ld,;.";;^;;;:.'diffrcult,o.i; *igh, u." be developed in
jur, .o;;'";; gooa
or how ,
26 Habits oJtheHeatt
Culture and Character: 2
T.'};,""l,','"'J,:,ir,,::ii"f:'{;J* The Histot ical Conuersation
::"
ffl::',i'i:i ;irix *ru{*
iT: :m;
j:il *:fl'#iiT:i':: i i ; 'ii' i""''lhev re
*i#,,:::::"'; a
socially disadvantageo
TJil,Ti;[n'm"lll!q,t^"g;fJ,*:Til:Ji:il:'i.";
r..r' bot *" h""' Nor have we
I
:'li,1,:'iiffi,.'*"t'*
I
1
H:3;fl ,';1,il:i:;::;i';;;;,"::y-j,*ii"'lJi:Jifi
*ii
L
l'.r.irr"*.weneedtoreach:"'T::^:1i.i;;;;"..'-wh11hlt
1
L
,*"1'.,il.;'"rt'::;.:;:li: j::ij*i:i:t*;H:fl.::. To an American reader, the individualism that pervades the four lives
o"'
:: ,offi ffii"'"i il"i":". "1,,; us- described in chapter r may at first glance seem not to have anything to
j
as abour procedurai
1,
do with cultural tradition, but simply to express the way things are. Yet
n':'ff :'iJjTuoo.',,,*" when we look more closely, we see that there are subtle differences
i:i:i**:lt*:;:ffi radical t"* t: *1T. "H.;;;"ted
because in among our four characters. There are different modes even within the
Evena self-stvled "ffi
jill: vocabularies of each individual. Brian Palmer, for example, was at one
time in his life single-mindedly devoted to career success, sacrificing
B:'lllilifut4ruFi:':1"'r.:Ttritttj"l:
"i;*.r:'*'ri:f l*' 1l
I'i:*t#mf$ffi
h""
everything to attainment of that goal. Later, he came to value quite di
ferent things-classical music, books, relationships, the immediate en-
joyment of life-and left behind his total devotion to career. Both these
:T"il'ili' *ilt'-i"di"idua$'
with what kind ot
d:
irJ"rsocietv'
ants should t'v
t""tto
after all, not enough
once thev hiL::;.'Ai'"i" to accom-
land near the t"":: 1i
,:;. it . ,,t"tt"nisms
want t"lt"t-i:t:
of the
modes are individualistic, but they are rooted in different traditions and
have different implications. We propose to call the former mode "utili-
tarian individualism" and the latter "expressive individualism."Joe Gor-
t
would like Santa man and Wayne Bauer combine their individualism with somewhat di
who *. t" places should
modare everyone
free market are not
;"*
to determin: llt-i:;d.t;r;*: in sho.rt, liber-
that determi"it""ij;;o'"' bv
ferent languages ofcivic responsibility. Margaret Oldham holds a more
sharply formulated version of Brian's individualism.
t
M;;;' should
distributed in'h't ttl..''u ""'" such These differences derive from a historical past of which none of our
,;;;:;;;tces be would just societv-:;il|;;;-[;out
a
look like? To answer
fair proce- characters is entirely aware. In our forward-facing society, however, we
li.,""""t Vhatwouldhavl1o d:'T:-'ltt"d*i' the
to. exer:.: are more apt to talk about the future than the past and to imagine that the
questions' Vayn-e
to lit"
;;;t;; sr'uta be created slve TiJ;;f "Utfity-
of substantive differences between us derive largely from a conflict ofcurrent interests.
""" t .," his cur,urar Yet even in the debate about our future, our cultural tradition, in its sev-
;;; ;
:Tl:,:,1il:"T,'.iiil:;
goals, sotne way tu Lrt'r -"--- nct ot rrs
u,
eral strands, is still very much present, and our conversation would
us' probably be more to the point if we were aware ofthat fact.
?;;;;t failhim' as thev do most ^f shaped our languas
e and our
'we now So long as it is vital, the cultural tradition of a people-its symbols,
'"* '";;'"iii"""h::L"*our present predicament' ideals, and ways offeeling-is always an argument about the meaning of
lives for *t'""n$;;;11;;"bout the destiny its members share.l Cultures are dramatic conversations
about things that matter to their participants, and American culture is
no exception. From its early days, some Americans have seen the pur-
tr
Culture and Character 29
Habits of the Heart

z8 nately, to take it as a sign of God's approval. Yet their fundamental .rir.- f
rion ofsuccess was not material wealth but the creation ofa community i" *
f
o,.,lu,,::l:jllli,i:1 ji:.:fr ::r:::1i5ffi"':ilii which a genuinely ethical and spiritual life could be lived. During his
I and co
ofajust twelve terms as governor, Winthrop, a relatively rich man for those days,
I ;:, o:;i"tyi.',i:; {;i1;';t;i;t,'m
hoPe
devoted his life to the welfare of the colony, frequently using his own
funds for public purposes. Nearthe end of his life, he had to step down
l'ffl ;;;;t"v
:iJ:t:i often passio.nt'"'
and
"'tionlr.?n.,,o,io,' that ribertv m e ans from the governorship because his neglected estate was threatened with
been the proponents, "lH;;"rrrt - pow:r for one- bankruptcy. The Puritan settlements in the seventeenth century can be
seen as the first ofmany efforts to create utopian communities in America.
::;:TT:"",1*:i1:""{'.i,:1*,,:*:i1
found in all three 9f
t:''i;i-_i;t thev t"t' on differ-
tt''v take
They gave the American experiment as a whole a utopian touch that it has
.;;; I "'" ;;;;'" individualist-_but long as
never lost, in spite ofall our failings.3
bibiical,
'"pubtit"'T t;;;;' A-t'i*t tllre rernains alive so For'Winthrop, success was much more explicitly tied to the creation of
\ ent rneanings t" "":h is intense' a certain kind of ethical community than it is for most mericans today.
I th. conversation ;;;;;;"d the argurnent His idea offreedom differs from ours in a similar way. He decried what he
called "natural liberty," which is the freedom to do whatever one wants,
evil as well as good. True freedom-what he called "moral" freedom, "in
reference to the covenant between God and man"-is a liberty "to that
only which is good, just and honest." "This liberty," he said, "you are to
Republican Sftands
The Bibtical and' stand for with the hazard of your lives."4 Any authority that violates this
d'h' liberty is not true authority and must be resisted. Here again, Winthrop r
Mo s t s h ave re co gn i ze
h i st o r i an
earliest :i::: :i"-:':"' J'"'i
ttf"]i:;';i*'i'i' Ameri-
perceives an ethical content to the central idea offreedom that some other
"f"
American culture f rom the of
strands ofthe American tradition have not recognized.
'nt
fi 'il:l*.1i,:t'::i.:li*m"*;*xy;;;:
"-T't-:
In like manner, [/inthrop saw justice as a matter more of substance
can experimenttnarr
rr,* than of procedure. Cotton Mather describes Winthrop's manner of gov-
the r *irrv .r-.rica contained Tili,iru**
think Ican see
ten who landed on
Jo'"'i'Just as -:H::"..1:ilitiil'n "'
erning as follows: "FIe was, indeed, a governor who had most exactly
studied that book which, pretending to teach politics, did only contain
't'"'
asPects of contemp-ot"tl
to introduce ^.r.. earlier strands'-
individuals to introouc" Y.d.irr.t,r"s"
three leaves, and but one word in each of those leaves, which word was
to land on
several representative 'Moderation."' When it was reported to him during an especially long
" "1.* it;;nrop (r 8 - r4e) *"'-l:"^1 :
5 8
;; ;. ginnin gs bv com- and hard winter that a poor man in his neighborhood was stealing from
,"irh.;;;d h"i b".t' taken as exempta;'M;il.rio Toqueville to
an culture *tn t: ^'n" his woodpile, Winthrop called the man into his presence and told him
mentators on Americ :';;: r"t M-asiachusetts that because ofthe severity ofthe winter and his need, he had permission
';;*ir.''*':H::J:: j'::l'i:Jpir'J*tove.rrortvvearsor to supply himself from Winthrop's woodpile for the rest of the cold sea-
i:ilJ";:.Iiii*"i'.i:r"ik*r*;::ffi ;i-ff ffi ; son. Thus, he said to his friends, did he effectively cure the man from
stealing.s
determrr
victions, Mod'l ofchristian
h th'';,;;LA The freemen of Massachusetts did not always appreciate lVinthrop's
just before
those of like b""d ';;'i;"* L1'1"' leniency, for it made it seem that there was no law but the governor's
"lisi;;::;;ii*""'
*hi'h ;'"i;;;J;l
charitv," will. He was voted out of office and quietly served in minor posts for
r'"ai"g*"'"'#.:i::*;'iri*J:;*:*'*''ii
u"' we must delight
several years before being recalled to leadership. Petty leaders in far-
l'r' I A J;;;;'
Puritans n
fellow i" " flung colonial outposts have not always taken demotion with such equa-
for one und""'ffi '*i'i
mourn
rejoyce together' nimity. V/inthrop accepted the procedural principles ofselgovernment
in each *ii't"" "uio"' ou'-o*"'
otnt'' having our eyes otlr before enough to temper his own preference for magnanimous, if personal,
I l'bt' ;;; ; iogttht'' b'd;'"
tosether, ''*"* The Puritans were not
unrn- substantivejustice.6 lfour "whole destiny" is not quite contained in Win-
tf ;;;;;;rin '"-' unfortu-
,na *.pron *nt"
.Jm*u"itv " it came'
- r ir, ,rr.r. frosperity
teresred
{
Culture anil Character 3 r
30 Habits oJthe Heatt

Late in life, he saw that manufactures were necessary if the nation
itselfwas not to lose its liberty, but at the same time he more insistently
rhrop,as""',r1t:^:'.:t"'j"ffi 'liil;i,.:$o':i'"" than ever stressed the principle of citizen participation. He proposed to
ditin nonetheless dert epublic produced
so many
subdivide counties into "wards" of approximately roo citizens that
';:r';:i'ili''r'"''o"t'o"" would be "small republics" in which every citizen could become "an
ll
in:*'"*il:il-*'ffi
;; *,h. * "', ut;ii**;i$j,l,ittf,ff
I
acting member of the Common government, transacting in person a
great portion of its rights and duties, subordinate indeed, yet important,
r:l5* and entirely within his own competence."lo Such small republics would
'"'.,Lt#:iJJ':,itll;;;riiscountrv.':*Ji:'.*J:,:.'ff;*,
',:;;;ii^::t*:*ilnm;Ul:l'T?,'"'."::iffi .* help to guarantee the health ofthe large one. In such a society, Jefferson's
injunction "Love your neighbor as yourself,, and your country more than
later, frst
and. Presrc
yourself" could have an immediate meaning to the citizens. ButJeffer-
Harvardcollege,Joh;^d;;;*"'*'n*;:ffi 3::::t-':; son feared that "our rulers will become corrupt, our people careless." If
Til.im'*:::'"#ff lii"i"";i:lil*,1',;m::- people forgot themselves "in the sole faculty of making money," he said,
(r743-ra10)' tto - the future ofthe republic was bleak and tyranny would not be far away.11
ThomasJefferson
rv cause. " Like Y/inthrop, Jefferson left office much poorer than he entered it and
ilr;;; il; 4ilii.xi*ir; l*nnm;,::::,: ' faced bankruptcy in his later years.
f articûlarly' P P.:ol::"* r .t. r, J-*t'te rn-Vir gini
-^"" Freedom was not so tightly tied to substantive morality forJefferson
Iefferson came rl
the plante ^'.'. -
active part
co[ege, he early rook an as it had been for V/inthrop. Indeed,Jefferson's first freedom, freedom of
nrid.rrti.g rr"- ^'"i"'v
wirra'vr"ry
religion, aimed at ensuring that people like Winthrop would not have
,, tt . p oi iti"' r'h'i'J;;i' lt;,;: $Ji'-'''Tt"t:;
i"r"",t'" Declaration of
lndepende"'!; ":n
to his
" TlJiil#;;-i'-""
lifelong commll
legal power to force their views on others. In general, Jefferson favored
freedom of the person from arbitrary state action and freedom of the
are created equal"
g'u" t''at'i"g expre'ssion
press from any form of censorship. Yet he also believed that the best
equality' No
toequality'tntt'o't"ttitt"'t'"tt'"t"ueingsreequalinall
sv tq""t"tylt'*"i
t;"; r"""*;;tily politicalanother man to defense offreedom was an educated people actively participating in gov-
resects.
*r' t're on his "it rot of ernment. The notion of a formal freedom that would simply allow peo-
**, r,. believed' '
much he
on the practical issue
ple to do what they pleased-for example, solely to make money-was
ride. Therefo'"' rto*l"i '"-po'J" as unpalatable toJefferson as it had been to V/inthrop. Flowever impor-
.man.ipatio",J.rr;,;;;igo'o"'lv'n.'^',t"TifitJ'r',p"liltimes tant formal freedom was to either of them, freedom only took on its real
meaning in a certain kind of society with a certain form of life. Without
-in::li**lt'""-;i};x}#ilr.:::t!,li""'.
in believing that tt Political equality
that, Jefferson saw freedom as quickly destroying itselfand eventuating
i"' i' *t'*ive' in tyranny.l2
where relativtl,
'"": 'ri"* 'oi Listing the essential principles of government in his frst inaugural
canonlyuttntttiul'it^'piut-ryherethltiii"tt"actuallyparticipate' address, Jefferson began with: "Equal and exact justice to all men, of
"rhefurther'h';n",t''"'r'"*1:::i:"t*f t':*:T:3;li whatever state or persuasion, religious or political." While he certainly
believed in the proceduraljustice ofour legal system, he could not forget
'#il#'::i:111ii"ii:"t"'r'erative'd"li
ttittnt"Jtt all
his tife' In compartson that there is a higher justice that sits in judgment over human justice:
which ttt p"ttitipt'lit" *t'
rn
in the United States
to Europe, t" tt'"tgf"
tii' it't ""li""ble
"the laws of nature and of nature's God." In considering the continued
existence of slavery, Jefferson wrote, "Indeed I tremble for my country
i",eqn"i,u..11,Liif Tiff
tew r
','tri;Uii*:*nf.'"".:: when I reflect that God isjust; that hisjustice cannot sleep forever." The
vided into a
profound contradiction of a people fghting for its freedom while sub-
son'sidealwas'ht"t'ld;'Jd"";;'-**t,:"ri*;;f;ii5;
in the jecting another to slavery was not lost onJefferson and gave rise to anxi-
thty"*i:i11i;;
ir, il-"g and participate
would bring great ""riri.'
inequalitie orclass
ety for our future if this contradiction were not solved.13
he feared p'"tittfv U"t"o"
ofa free people'e
and corrupt the rorals
L
Character
l
Culture anil 33
I
Habits of the Heart

I
32 Dick." In short, Franklin gave classic expression to what many felt in the
eighteenth century-and many have felt ever since-to be the most im-
Indiuidualism
+
.l
,l
U tilitarian and Expressiue portant thing about merica: the chance for the individual to get ahead
on his own initiative. Franklin expressed it very clearly in his advice to
BenjaminFrankrin(r7o;,T?:li:-fi
1rmerrLdL.
::f ;.*T:l;,:,i-::Jill
use tr'
trom
Europeans considering immigration to America: "Ifthey are poor, they
s the quintessentlal lrne d much of practical
i-t,]1""-" begin first as Servants orJourneymen; and if they are sober, industrious,
t tanism of his gqly:p:'*o''l"'tii" and frugal, they soon become Masters, establish themselves in Business,
;;*{-f,$f;J*1"",:',1"1:i:$ry;:'1,ry;i.-
o
marry, raise Families, and become respectable Citizens."ls
One of the founders What Franklin thought about freedom and justice followed pretty
'."...i'n,tq"'":l:i*ij#U.'.'U,f X'f,]r.!:"'iii:f : plainly from his understanding of success. Defending popular govern-
belieis' which he
tit,it" ; ;" ir'u,t,' for his republi- ment in the Pennsylvania Colony in 1756, he wrote: "The people of this
"emi"":t:, ""t
Province are generally of the middling sort, and at present pretty much
l"'JH';l:1";j'iir*:l:ilii'.rHlil:*.f;;il,;
i; the archetvpal poor
u:I *nli, upon a Level. They are chiefly industrious Farmers, Artificers, or Men in
ff#; maxims ftom and the
Poor
Trade; they enjoy and are fond of Freedom, and the meanest among them
;:;';;;;;;,;;;:.::l,5';'"'".11;::.;il;;'ame,hataremos'i
ac
thinks he has a Right to Civility from the greatest."16 Franklin under-
Richatd\ Almanack stood, withJefferson, that it was only a certain kind of society that'was
i"iiulv associated -iiil i; candle maker, Franklin
was largelv sel likely to give such scope to ordinary citizens, to protect their rights, and to
Born the son of a that Adams and secure their equal treatment before the law. But for many of those in-
educated, fot ht toul"'l;";-;ht t"otttgt "aut'tion
craft' he apprenticed fluenced by Franklin, the focus was so exclusively on individual sel
Iefferson took as'r"i t"' Seeking "'p;;;i;of a
s' tg'" the vicissitudes improvement that the larger social context hardly came into view. By the
imself to his older '"i;;;'; ;f;''"'the Autobiofrophy t'o
need summary
end ofthe eighteenth century, there would be those who would argue that
creer too familiar
;';;;t waststab-
i
here. Suffice n tt '"'-tr"'liy

tnt
'c:
of r"ttt"-it"'rtanklin in a society where each vigorously pursued his own interest, the social t-

I
ii,r,. i,, p hl ad er phil
i:##;' lif "t
t:
LX|,
T: };iiif ;i;'li good would automatically emerge. That would be utilitarian individual-
ism in pure form. Though Franklin never himself believed that, his image
l.
,l contributed much to this new model of humantife.TT Along with biblical

iru*":'*;:;"Ji'"i;'ln:';';;;;"'ircin'leres'lsror religion and republicanism, utilitarian individualism has been one of the
I the rest of his life' Prog'
Iohn Bunyan's Pilgrim\ strands ofthe American tradition since Franklin's time.
i
I
:irTf fl',i#i:il,",'.:.Tr#J,"JiJiiir:*t*:
I By the middle ofthe nineteenth century, utilitarian individualism had
become so dominant in America that it set off a number of reactions. A
,"",T":f ii',;J;";;ngisFrankrin's
I
life devoted to the calculating pursuit of one's olvn mterial interest

1l

i:f "":'.fi
of how n" ffi
i"" 1ri':i:i,::,5'tr""',1; came to seem problematic for many Americans, some of them women,
rl accounr some of them clergymen, and some of them poets and writers. The
I
.;"in*ik'=;* : l':xn;
cramped selcontrol of Franklin's "virtues" seemed to leave too little
I ;*'l u#l5: :rT:
li
l'
l
iri.
tsi-Jand
Christian tradition' undergo " llo,r,"r somewhat novel mean-a
room for love, human feeling, and a deeper expression of the self. The
great writers of what F. O. Matthiessen has called the "American Re-
naissance" all reacted in one way or another against this older form of
*i*ut*:.,xiAniil;r{*:iffdili**1*:::' individualism.ls In r855 Herman Melville published Israel Potter, a novel
that subjected Franklin himself to bitter satire. Emerson, Thoreau, and
have passed into the common. Hawthorne put aside the search for wealth in favor of a deeper cultiva-
"*;";:::i?,H"i",Y1i-i;!;i;;;;;::*::::::l'
Poot Richard's
'ct*il'';[-*iich
;"v to't -' tion ofthe self, But it is perhaps Walt Whitman who represents what we
-'t i:1rti::lit:1
t
Am er ic a n s
"b'";';;;' "i" 1'Hi*%: p' wh'e
may call "expressive individualism" in clearest form.
;: il:f"f ii: i::il .li il:lf i

i:' tooukeep'
g'h
savs Poor
de e
Walt.V/hitman (r8r9-92), like Franklin, was rhe son of an artisan (in
c"t"itiar and
Sluggards
'tttp' "'ia'yo;;;h"""
L
I
Culture anil Character 3 j
I
i 3+ Habits oJthe Heart

'! pression. His homosexuality, vaguely but unmistakably expressed in
to'college' largely educated'
,'
a carpenter)' was too poor to go the poetry, was another way in which he rejected the narrow definition
: his case,
ofthe male ego dominant in his day.
;;;ir,andbcame,i,f:;"##*';JrJ::itll"+"..+i.i For all his unconventionality, there was a strong element of the repub-
ends. At the agg tt 'nti;;: ;Jh" spenr th;rest of his life nuturmg lican tradition in Whitman, particularly evident in Democratic Vistas
ooems entitled Leaves
<
lff ;;;;u*'""'1[iffi ll:'*:"*i'"iif

"
l; rankrin
(r87r) and elsewhere in his prose writings.22 The selsufficient farmer
or artisan capable of participation in the common life was Whitman's
J"'u'*e
1,:S:X iff ::n'"-;;; ;;:;
t* i' " r mvserr
rt
F
so ideal as well asJefferson's and Franklin's. He would thus have shared their
u":' he would not have Put idea ofjustice. But for V/hitman, the ultimate use of the American's in-
li";i;il'ti:ii'* ;
ws not above celebr""ttJi- *hi'h n""klin would
dependence was to cultivate and express the selfand explore its vast so-
bluntlv. rhe fourth
;1T1' '' . ]"t:.Xl i U,tlll;*n *.r"i"' ac quisitio n' A ri re
cial and cosmic identities.
For'Whitman' suc( in the sensual

kt;q: "f'q""nll]i"""'i"'i"i
rich in experience' "p*;;l
Early Interpretations of American Culture
i:i:r:::li#rrli{:"lt'g*x*'j*i
f,l"tt'' with natu-re'
"ttt*1":L.*;r^tt"t.l life' as rn
:"t
and deeply feeling
self becomes tr "r One of the frst to speak of the specifically American character was J.
tansive Hector John de Crvecoeur, a French settler who published his Letters
St.
lP"rr"g. to India":
from n Amercan Farmerin 1782. He set the tone for many future discus-
sions when he observed that Americans tended to act with far greater
Passage indeed O soul to primal tho-ght' personal initiative and selreliance than Europeans and that they tended to
,ds be unimpressed by social rank or long usage. He describes the transfor-
No t
The Young t
""i,,lnin,iJJ, *;,:shness'
mation of the European immigrant into an American: "From nothing to
bibles'
I
To realms of budding start into being; from a servant to the rank of a master; from being the
i' with me' slave to some despotic prince, to become a free man, invested with lands,
I with thee andthou
I
I
O soul' repressless' to which every municipal blessing is annexed! Y/hat a change indeed! It is
I
of the w'orld'begin'
I
rt'y tl"utl""igt'ion in consequence ofthat change that he becomes an American."23
I
ofhis mind's return'
,
Of -"t' the voyge Schooled by the philosophes of the eighteenth-century French En-
To paradise''
'""o"" "trly -^ :--ocent
'| to
.
tnn' intuitions, lightenment, Crvecoeur had no diffculty appraising the typical Amer-
Uttk t" wisdom's birth'
i
S"tk'
ican as a kind of "new man," an emancipated, enlightened individual
L
Ag;i" *i'tt fair creation'2o

i
confdently directing his energies toward the environment, both natural
II and social, aiming to wring from it a comfortable happiness. The type of
l
to express oneself' personality Crvecoeur sketched approximated the rational individual
was above all the freedom
Freedom to Whitman
I
concerned about his own welfare that had been the model character of
i
all constraints and conventrons: Enlightenment thought and that was at that time receiving renewed em-
I "g"irrr, phasis in the writings of political economists such as Adam Smith.
I take to the open road'
1
1
Afoot and light-hearted Crvecoeur wrote of the American that, "Here the rewards of his indus-
try follow with equal steps the progress of his labour; his labour is
i
wherever I choose'21
L,
;iffi:JT rn'i1:-:i$"ting founded on the basis ofnature, self-interest; canitwant a stronger allure-
I
ment?"24 The rational, selinterested individual had emerged as Eco-
i
nomic Man and, as such, was conceived as living most naturally in the
celebration of bodi
life' including sexal- conditions of a competitive marker in which trae and e*chang would
i
I
The frankness of Whitman's than
nt""-'-is and led to more' ex- replace traditional ranks and loyalties as the coordinaring mechanism of
]
I
itv. wa s shockin g to #t;il;t"t'y the integrity of his i if
I
a iew difficutti"''
tt'oog-; h" ""t"' compromised
L
ir
rj
l

Crvecoeur had emphasized but saw it as having ambiguous and prob-
said' " we are lematic implications for the future ofAmerican freedom.
social life' As crvecoeur "1ii:,'i:'*J;*;rr'i':'i:l f
Tocqueville argues that while the physical circumstances of the

IT"."" *nich is unfettered and unrestrarn
I
United States have contributed to the maintenance of a democratic re-
i *o.r.t for himself."2s ' :ans, it is Benjamin
Frank-
public, laws have contributed more than those circumstances and mores
I
i"iit'';.tr*:r:1gg;ig*Ti:'"'"'ffi (moeurs) more than the laws.27 Indeed, he stresses throughout the book
I
chal of the that their mores have been the key to the Americans' success in estab-
American
ideal of intellectuals.
y^ y_rr"".tt lishing and maintaining a free republic and that undermining American
American and an ,o"l'nirrrpitv mores is the most certain road to undermining the free institutions of
day,anurnbe,or*no'"l=ii::X*:i:::',ll$::J:l'*:;
exclusrv' '"'1"* reli- the United States. He speaks of mores somewhat loosely, defining them
i, j*ir. But Crvecoeur's
him to other tal,Jrr.
H. ,.* American
variously as "habits of the heart"; notions, opinions and ideas that
iil s.blinded "shape mental habits"; and "the sum of moral and intellectual disposi-
rrTry;F'$:'ffi
the
:"'r;:irii':#'
strand-
that of a great series
tions of men in society."ze Mores seem to involve not only ideas and
opinions but habitual practices with respect to such things as religion,
*outd'.t;;;;i,o,,, t'i' -'iii"g'
derstand political participation, and economic life.
throp, and ot'"
::ffi ;***:iti];,H,*ff In short, Tocqueville, unlike Crvecoeur, saw the great importance, in
completelv'n.'P':,'l;;i
*"*1r"". He
*""t:jTJ";;;;;
iln,,,**r;,,;.^*,f
di
would un- be-as
the American mores of his clay, of the continuing biblical and republican
traditions-the traditions of Winthrop and Jefferson. He also saw very
a parto_rthe p"rety econornic man
vividly the way in which Americans operated in the tradition of Benjamin
cans ofhis generatlo
suited to , ,.tr-go"''; ",1'*ii5;;lft:l;."lll'""il1 Franklin, and to describe this, he helped to give currency to a new word.
"'Individualism' is a word recently coined to express a new idea," he
iffi l**l;::itiii*Ti*iir:*'.Llrn:::; wrote. "Our fathers only knew about egoism." Individualism is more
moderate and orderly than egoism, but in the end its results are much the
Boor- same: "Individualism is a calm and considered feeling which disposes each
m:t*;il:;.','l'lH'::;1ii:i"i""i"nu""'i'r'appea'lingin
ut"t' rl-""it Hartz and Daniel citizen to isolate himself from the mass of his fellows and withdraw into
recent times * tht -t-t" the circle offamily and friends; with this little society formed to his taste,
stin.26 had been tem-
the optimism of'the Entightenment and he gladly leaves the greater society to look after itself,"2e As democratic
For Tocquevilte' and its aftermath'
R"';il;;" individualism gro'ws, he wrote, "there are more and more people who,
pered bv't" '*p"i"'l' ';;i'":h tit"'"Jttt were frnding an alarm- though neither rich nor powerful enough to have much hold over others,
ihe prophecit' "' th;t;y"ffi'it"f of English mill
in tt i"dtt;;i"i;ft"'o' observer'
have gained or kept enough wealth and enough understanding to look
inelv nesativt as a sympathetic
'"'rir-ttf
,rrr. rotquttittJl'-t;,;t
U"itedstates after their own needs. Such folk owe no man anything and hardly expect
.;;;,-**tj:ii'Jniilif:'JL::ll"i,::i
nation m
anything from anybody. They form the habit ofthinking ofthemselves in
isolation and imagine that their whole destiny is in their hands." Finally,
rnodern such people come to "forget their ancestors," but also their decendants, as
i"'*" uy republican convictions
Headdedttc'"i3t'i''iit'sketchttft"t'ratingandcomplex
tJtn;."titty' well as isolating themselves from their contemporaries. "Each man is for-
understandin, ever thrown back on himselfalone, and there is danger that he may be shut
H; il ;;. j:
*; i;rfii: *r:i
.qio*ll,l'^"^::",^.; l}i :i ;1
d,'
1: up in the solitude of his own heart."3o Tocqueville mainly observed the
ln Democracy
'n to understat the nature of"l!,,
the de.rnocratrc
utilitarian individualism we have associated with Franklin. He only in a
Tocqueville was concerned existence but most
fully exem-
societv he saw-evervwhere
t"'-ttg-ll::;;;;, ,,tempting to assess
few instances discerns something of the expressive individualism that
'V/hitman
would come to represent.
y.:,:il;"'i3'-.i'i'. oi;;;;' ainiain rree ofpori'li- Tocqueville saw the isolation to which Americans ere prone as omi-
*i::*;:*;, J";';'-,'v -igr" il;;;;"-' "':'1":d des- that
nous for the future of our freedom. It is just such isolation that is always
cal institutio" entrepreneurial spirit
to*-tttiJ"d
the
podsm' H" "ppt"ti"ted
Culture anil Character 39
Habits oJthe Heart

38 ter, often successfully. Most men were selemployed, and many who
*tO:'lT is particularly interestef worked for another were saving capital to launch themselves on their
And so
encourged by despotism'
i''""t"
ti *'rt" :: tl:'l.t::|*ffi own. 'Westward expansion, as Tocqueville noted, reproduced this pat-
in all tho se tot"t t'.u" H}.- tern of a decentralized, egalitarian democracy across the continent.
J,'*:.ru:::;::'$.ii,:,,''1":|Ji,i*;;'"::li*' American citizenship was anchored in the ethos and institutions of the
face-to-face community of the town.32
'i,:,:',',i"ffi ::"i:il:ti{:ti:ffi .r'f#

I
t **t*t:nltllli*=*t*#rtr:;ffi
mores become imPort
,u'f [q* The Independent C itizen
It was this Tocquevillean image of the American town thatJoe Gorman

ir[:f:''"i.:i:':i"ii::[:ri::xll;m::; evoked as his own vision when we met him in chapter r. For American
L;:i""'""'::i:;.r'.1,i;iJifi.;,,t"v"*' ergues
republicans of the nineteenth century, the town at its best was a moral
interest has to
some-c
n*"' understood' Tocqueville' grid that channeled the energies of its enterprising citizens and their
In ways that JettJr'so""ii families into collective well-being. The moral life of the community, it
that a va ri e tv'r'o"1" " u ! 'i ""io', :
*j:::f"::'i'f :n*; was believed, would simultaneously increase material welfare and nour-
i*i3il'.":"*':l,;ii life in
j:F;Jf "*.'r"'i.'1111
increasingly Commetcial
an
soctety'
ish public spirit. The life of the towns \ /as tightly bounded, however,
and if it could yoke individual initiative for the common good, it could
from the i"J;;ity
of mediate
results
Associations' """;;;l
i'*""'i*' t'i"istration'
state' providing forums
rn
also exclude the different and suffocate the unconforming. The stric-
tures of town morality were in part generated by the citizens' unease at
between the it'di"i'Ti'""d
;d;;:':tli":u subtle
t"'t'notiv i"ttnitJv 'tpta an theon' As- trying to create community while navigating the flood of geographical,
which opinio" ""a nd passed demographic, and economic expansion. For, as Tocqueville saw, the
of pubrit i"i'i"îTJa
i"ft"unitii.,i"' bulwrk against the
habits American, that new kind of person, was a tentative character type
ti;iil;tli:,-,iti't""
sociational lire, in mutually antagomstlc
ln-
shaped by inherited values on the one hand and the challenges ofthe
the mass sociery of check'
condition he feared*mst: structures'
j''"'iir1- rnttt il''* ediategovernment expanding frontier on the other.
dividu als' ttt, ntt of centralized
to as- A representative character is a kind of symbol.33 It is a way by which
oressure'
r'iit"ttties we can bring together in one concentrated image the way people in a
""a "*
riii'r':':,'rui3.il":ilil,:',l:i:: given social environment organize and give meaning and direction to
tt their lives. In fact, a representative character is.more than a collection of
nineteenth cenrurv,
the basic unit 1tt"i:i;;;, ;;r'th. lo."l .om- individual traits or personalities. It is rather a public image that helps
dignity
dation of both inividual 1n1-11n initiative was nurtured define, for a given group ofpeople, just what kinds ofpersonality traits ir
;:; i:, #:i: ii*is**;:fi : ;

is good and legitimate to develop. A representative character provides an
;.:ijgr ideal, a point of reference and focus, that gives living expression to a
**tl":*i;'i::i;'?ff ii'ffi ""d'uu'-i'copera'led

tutt""' to"ttt" for the welfare
vision of life, as in our society today sports figures legitimate the striv-
ings of youth and the scientist represents objective competence.
within'ttt to""*til-"1i-i"*tio"'r Tocqueville's America can be viewed as an interlocking network ofspe-
l o,'.t,'"ishb "; ;;n". 4r' .t,t-","T*: :l;:*lilm*gt
j irru;:;r; *'*'"l;'i;"ff ;ffi;;i;P'*rb'rl
or cific social roles: those of husband, wife, child, farmer, craftsman, clergy-
man, lawyer, merchant, township officer, and so on. But the distinctive
quality of that society, its particular identity as a "world" different from
These autonc rtee'republic' men
of other societies, was summed up in the spirit, the mores, that animated its
centurv *t" ao'ii
ur":l''"':' tt'*trt members, and that spirit was symbolized in the representative character of
g ."
m i d dr in
"di
*;h ",;t*L*. #r:li"l il:ilTl:
members
;;;;;""tt ranks less affluent
Culture and Character 4r
40 Habits oJthe Heart
played a vital economic role, within which men's and women's positions,
though unequal in power and prestige, were largely complementary. In
the larger towns and cities, however, and particularly among the profes-
sional and business classes, women were more and more deprived of an
economic role and were expected to specialize in the expressive and nur- I
turing roles of mother and beautifier of the home, itselfviewed more ,, ,V
retreat from the everyday world than as a part of it.3s As women reacted
differently to these new pressures, the first consciousness of, and oppo-
sition to, the inequality of women came to be expressed in America. By
the end of the nineteenth centur the fact that women were not "inde-
pendent citizens" was experienced as a major social strain.
The relevance of Crvecoeur and Tocqueville for orienting our under-
standing of the present is suggested by the echoes of their respective
analyses in the characters of our study. Brian Palmer's relatively private
and optimistic orientation rehearses Crvecoeur, while Joe Gorman's
anxiety and Margaret Oldham's sense of isolation seem to confirm some
of Tocquevillet fears of privatism, an anticipation at least somewhat
counterbalanced by the contemporary public passion of V/ayne Bauer.
To understand the representative characters of present-day America, we
need to move beyond Tocqueville's era, but in Tocqueville's spirit, noting
the evolution ofnew characters emerging in response to the transforma-
tion of the United States into an industrial world power.
The Entrepreneur
The citizen perceived by Tocqueville was indeed closer to being an indi-

vidual "shut up in the solitude of his own heart" than earlier Americans
of religious and republican stripe had been.36 Yet he was a considerably
less isolated and selregarding figure than the entrepreneurs of the
Gilded Age of the late nineteenth century or the bureaucratic managers
and therapists of the twentieth.
Tocqueville voiced great misgivings about two phenomena that he
thought threatened the moral balance of Jacksonian democracy. One
was the slave society of the South, which not only treated blacks inhu-
manely but, as Tocqueville, like Jefferson, noted, degraded whites as
well.37 The second danger lay in the industrial system, which frst made
its appearance in the Northeast. Factories had concentrated great num-
bers ofpoor and dependent workers, often women and immigrants, into
rapidly growing mill towns, and Tocqueville feared the rise of a new
torm of aristocracy that would make owners and managers into petty

of interest developed, with the powerful national economic interests of
the corporations, banks, and their investors, and, eventually, the labor
despotsandred3c::*:::ri:i,:T.-";!1ff
ativls, a condition t"t;;;ni.Jrr'.
movement, competing with the old regional, ethnic, and religious inter-
y.*,", farmer=",T,i::*
in the South'
ests. These developments changed the workings of the political parties
as the planta'i"'"'fi:];;;;;;;t;;;ton oth concentrated "?l:T'' in the national government. By the early decades of the twentieth cen-
so the spread of lndustnar ,::r^;:."r"'..s and threatened to displace tury, the Progressive movement was calling for a smoother partnership
between large-scale economic organizations and government at all levels
r:'i"'H.'l"l,::t:I'it,'"i.{''i.'i'*i-""'"'vdemocratic
tral"*t; wtJ tf1;lestroYed the
slave civtltza-
to "rationalize" the tumultuous process of social and political change. If
the structures'that
life. Ironicallv' gro*tn of tt't it'rial decentralized' all generations ofAmericans have had to confront "future shock," surely
tion enormou'ty tut'ntnt n*t"'*'f e'n of the turn-othe-century generation faced the most severe challenge.
the original
would fatally unbalance The eclipse of the old economic and social patterns brought stormy
,.gor.rni"q*-T:t:irapid westward expansion and industrial political conflicts and complex cultural changes in its wake. One was the
Btw..r, the period "t^lt'ir^'l:ij ," entrv of the United States acceleration of a possibility always available to some in,tmerican society,
g the emancipation ofthe successful entrepreneur from the confining ties of
:'""J:ri*:,ngj:m:i#J"':t'"lir^#;;oassed'lhrough
i;'n tfo"n"io''i" 1tt r'titt"tv' n ot excludin the old town morality. The Gilded Age was the era of the spectacular
,
the m ost rapid and n;;;i belng ,
a new national
society came into "selmade" economic success: captains of industry who could ignore the
our own time' Nothiii"tt"tf'"n
1
live' and one

*t'o" structure we still By the end of
clamor of public opinion and rise to truly national power and prestige by
in those years' a '"tt1;;iil''' ;;t n*tttt''1"t tentury' economic means alone.al In the predatory capitalists the age dubbed rob-
markedlv untittt t't';;;f
pt"lt"l"tlv in transport' communlca-
that century' ** ;;;;'t'itl' tht
ber barons, some ofthe worst fears ofearlier republican moralists seemed
loca-l socr-
tions, and -^nur"tt'"'i"s'
pfut -"ty "*i-"utonomous confrmed: that by releasing the untrammeled pursuit of wealth without
n eti;;ri""L"'
t t::9t ;i: regard to the demands of socialjustice, industrial capitalism was destroy-
rie s into a va sr .::: ffil
e
r"i.rrr govern menr, rhe new

expansron "frlilTti
-w::*ri;;iurt. *..tth "d
private weall
ing the fabric of a democratic society, threatening social chaos by pitting
'Where,
vate individu'l' "d' ;;;;"'i *{;,^1;, senerated class against class. many wondered, could new limits and direc-
tions for individual initiative be found beyond the broken bounds of the
emerging at the turn orthe
"t::j::'""I'i:"ffi:Ttv
;*'r"r .is;JX';il
local selgoverning community? The inability of the old moral order e
fectively to encompass the new social developments set the terms of a
i"#'" ;' *t*"::il ,
centurv develope.d cultural debate in which \Me as a nation are still engaged.a2
il;J'' including new.represe"tlt]:'" group of investors
:::i t"*'o" ovo"" u"'
the control of a The most distinctive aspect oftwentieth-century American society is
form, capablt of t*iting the
n"gt o'f t*ploy"t"t' o?i*"great distances'-was r the division of life into a number of separate functional sectors: home
resources, "t';i' i and workplace, work and leisure, white collar and blue collar, public and
business"o,no'""1'iiiltr'Tf :*^::i;J'*":[".1"*::
graded' and.untton'*-r,i."Uirl"ts, private. This division suited the needs of the bureaucratic industrial cor-
reach, its supervtsed' became the
porations that provided the model for our preferred means oforganizing
society by the balancing and linking of sectors as "departments" in a
:li::t;:*ilf'::x;:i:i:""i'ri';;h'rives'rarmos'
T'r;;ii,banking Ji-t;;..,
and insurance indus- functional whole, as in a great business enterprise. Particularly powerful
an American, oitht totpotation'a0
tries rapidly
tt* bu'""t"'"t;i,::li:-J#i:;n:lm
in molding our contemporary sense of things has been the division be-
"a"p"'t s-i ^ tween the various "tracks" to achievement laid out in schools, corpora-
The old lot d ;".;;'"t ""a "
*ltt' that were
problems
increas]l?;;;tto*i. jift town of the
tion, government, and the professions, on the one hand, and the balanc-
.r ing life-sectors of home, personal ties, and "leisure," on the other. All
*u"r' and'lhe'lradi'ionar this is in strong contrast to the widespread nineteenth-century pattern in
;*lL'f:;i:;,'i$:::'i:it:iii#''' *"'tion' Thg1ew indus- which, as on the often-sentimentalized family farm, these functions had
idea of Ame"tJ':'T;"'^,,,,i;-;" "rl'i"" only indistinct boundaries. Domesticity, love, and intimacy increasingly
irnmigrants'-and ward
trialorder*"r;;;;.,trg..iti"r.rr"ir*tr.theantithesisofthe became "havens" against the competitive culture ofwork.
of the town^'
order and decency 'F'"'lt;';";'h those years' a new politics
../oreigrt', and frighteni";.
bosses seemed

aspiring middle class. Yet in practice the recurrent American dream of
life became mo
of the economy' working success has often continued to approximate the old image
ofthe business-
With the industrialization ;'' g1" .'' t i- man as family provider and citizen. The turn-othe-century nabobs l
;',
s o e c i a l i ze
d a nd it s"
:i,:: 1',.
"1i'il'illi; themselves frequently sought legitimation through public philanthropy
";;;; and national service, drawing on models more deferential-their critics
h*J:lte*t"'.mil:*,Tl+;.'''itffi h: said "feudal"-than American republican tradition countenanced. But
toral form ootgantzar diffcult t9tF.';#:;*tl"tii p"'- the activist individual entrepreneur, though a continuing feature ofAmer-
*'rr*';;;t th and interrlependence
the network of private-fnor. *t" largely abstrac-
ican life and still a powerful symbol, has not represented the dominant
:..;;pete of socie" "t' direction ofeconomic and social development.
.";**,;nt in terrel ati''n ships i.';:..tiy tti thus often
The bureaucratic organization ofthe business corporation has been
ii",: :;1. :T:,;i i::T, ti,:i:, r, * *n o.".. I
the dominant force in this century. Y/ithin the corporation, the crucial
the
i'';s;; ;i sectors within
:
ilJ" .ul. to contain character has been the professional manager.as The competitive indus-
ferent without impal:::i:'."n.t. trial order with its sectoral organization and its push toward profitability
of
i;;;;;;";'mv'03 - : that the major problems has been the indisputable reality of modern life for the manager, rather
than the object ofa passionate faith in "progress," as for the entrepre-
;i:i"[*'TM;]r*J:i:ffi
reliable and harmon: ,:l**rn:*
As'itspointsii*';;;itv
access' to the geo-
neur. Although the manager in effect builds upon the work ofthe entre-
preneur and shares with him the drive to achieve and problem-solving
iinr" i'ividualhas d*:i:;;;;, activism that are old American traits, the social positions and outlooks of
;.'..;;;i'allv and occupationallv ;;;;; *'hin which a
the two types differ importantly.
'".
nh"Til'::, :su1"..i:i:"#;i;;ta ssio ar l:::,:'n' n
The essence of the manager's task is to organize the human and non-
trerson competes'
t o r one's " n''
n ce p
:;; ""'':I .:t:'ffi , ::'..:': :t'i; human resources available to the organizationthatemploys him so as to
co
lt came but improve its position in the marketplace. His role is to persuade, inspire,
tant, shift of meanrng' lo.sisnttv 111n and economic posttron, manipulate, cajole, and intimidate those he menages so that his organi-
g with
i #;*.ies,.belinnin "."'iP"'-':,:;
;;;i; ;rir..oo zation measures up to criteria of effectiveness shaped ultimately by the
the same attitudes'tasrcs'ti'i'i;;;"rn of the
iT.'.*;ili*prv"'e ;il^'h"
rhe re pon s"'"?
*"'''l: :?:'.*:ili :i:iiT"'.' *'o
market but specifically by the expectations of those in control of his
s
organization-finally, its owners. The manager's view of things is akin
**.',v"::::t'.1:.'ijj,!i"itiliii;;;71'o"rvi"t.'*o- to that ofthe technician ofindustrial society par excellence, the engineer,
American soclety'
"' ]'o: ji:li':ilJt:t:iJ5 ;ffi t:"-
p' ;; except that the manager must admit interpersonal responses and per-
ven w it h n'*'r" s': sonalities, including his own, into the calculation ofeffectiveness.a6
ac he
presentatlve a p p ro
to-tl::,i., of individuals'
seern re
the rr Like the entrepreneur, the manager also has another life, divided
" "'i'v
t" meaning and direction among spouse, children, friends, community, and religious and other
nonoccupational involvements. Flere, in contrast to the manipulative,
achievement-oriented practices of the workplace, another kind of per-
sonality is actualized, often within a social pttern that shows recogniz-
The Manager able continuity with earlier American forms of family and community.
titi:i' tJ'T:li But it is an outsranding feature of industrial life that these sectors have
ur' compe
r he selsufricient entre prene
was one
l' :::: I become radically discontinuous in the kinds oftraits emphasized and the
i-- .ttt'n'l constraints' -ne*'"iil;i;';;;;;;t'
man is his freedom'
apparent treet moral understandings that guide individuals within them. ,.public,, and I
r much of the moral

'#t;i";;tselmade
;; ; ;"' "private" roles often conrrast sharply, as symbolized by the daily com-
i,'o t o,,lv r'o* i' ::: f*,*ll" :"':"J:? mute from green suburban settings reminiscent of rural life to theindus-
I
' ffi ;;; ir ;f ll'1";.""1'itiff:,i.li.r. ha s been ro c re ate

o
"'
trial, technological ambience of the workplace.
is that the en
course, The split between public and private life correlates with a split between
;n:;*HT:,:i:

ilil;",û"*ili'lJliJJ,'..:.1ffi r)
I .elmademan ot m'

The Therapist
gp lol rl.1te
t :1:.
i utiritarian individualism, a
;l*: :i:"1 Like the manager, the therapist is a specialist in mobilizing resources for
'l:il:xl.:i1:'''.--fiif"l::ii:lk*,r
tigt'tttnti;;"'utv' t''"ppeal
to cal-
effective action, only here the resources are large internal to the individ-
ual and the measure of effectiveness is the elusive criterion of personal
,..,h centurv' i"tt
fftilit to sentiment 6 srnatlon' satisfaction.4T Also like the manager, the therapist takes the functional
by an appeal
was .Ji..*",ed
i culating utility organization of industrial society for granted, as the unproblematical con-
Iefferson,f bu'*ins'"u"'"'t''':f {::ii"}.t"tJ:::Ji;'il- text of life. The goal of living is to achieve some combination ofoccupa- \
'li*ir*r,ffi ::trfiiisf'$;$;';.i;;*; tion and "lifestyle" that is economically possible and psychically tolerable, '
that "works." The therapist, like the manager, takes the ends as they are
as locatet *otta' moralitv and
too,
sion' tii"'l given; the focus is upon the effectiveness ofthe means.
ominated'i" "*pri"'*i'"n1' "rtnt i"'i..rirg and sentiment' Mo- Between them, the manager and the therapist largely define the out-
rerieion rook ,.f.rg.'i"
.r" ,roecriviry, lines of twentieth-century American culture. The social basis of that
;*:::*ff r:'i::$",1*tirr*t',1',..;ii'"r.'fi culture is the world of bureaucratic consumer capitalism, which domi-
nates, or has penetrated, most older, local economic forms. $/hile the
culture ofmanager and therapist does not speak in the language oftradi-
*tl**m];':';m:iJiii:;;i;'""''i'rarian"'d'lh' tional moralities, it nonetheless proffers a normative order of life, with
.*,,,*.,;;..:ii.Tii:;"'.'Jf *":"f 3':?;-T::5i;
his
character ideals, images of the good life, and methods of attaining it. yet
thologians and
'1 external world' ddl;;" tt"'ittly believed it is an understanding of life generally hostile to older ideas of moral
some access to the "d
i"1il;TY"i'.i":l$':i'$'XltJ* order. Its center is the autonomous individual, presumed able to choose
poetrv*,,"*n""'ffi
of psycholocy'::'.in
the roles he will play and the commitments he will make, not on the
\ itu iht t-t'gt"te t"tt nineteenth and basis ofhigher truths but according to the criterion oflife-effectiveness
I ;i;;; ;":, 11 I
earlv twenttetn "ff:,:
,g:];
ce
;;;"; .* p,.,' ".
;flJ fi
o r i
as the individualjudges it.
The moral language and images of this culture of utilitarian and ex-
;*i:tif'ff#'"**:i;#Jffi::::-J"'i;1,::; pressive individualism have influenced the lives of most ofthe characters
in this book, and one ofour chief tasks in the chapters that follow will be
por"iii.':lt-Tiil"o,trl'J;::i;i"i:j;;i;"'iarAmerican to delineate and understand its forms. As we shall see, the effects of this
bv means of gene orientation of the
;;"" th' ;;;;'ntal managerial and therapeutic understanding are not always benign; it does
caracter'""'' ;:";T';; achieveme;;;; tit values of the "femi- not always succeed, even by its own standards. Indeed, the very term
"masculine" *";;;i;trk rramework
nine,, sphere, .l;;J;g ;*"'i'i;' },t,.5;r'*rar
t"::,1;;;",
therapeutic suggests a life focussed on the need for cure. But cure ofwhat?
In the final analysis, it is cure of the lack of fit between the present orga-
including of work'
;;;. ;;;
"'cillation' rt. "?gr"i,'tion nization of the self and the available organization of work, intimacy, and
meaning. ,\nd this cure is to take the form of enhancing and empower-
,xrimx::::'iii:i::ii{ii},.''t"1+:l,li;:tlr; ing the selfto be able to relate successfully to others in society, achieving
a kind of satisfaction without being overwhelmed by their demands. In
i
;l{:m*:"il:ii'iTei';';;;';;nandedconsumer its own understanding, the expressive aspect of our culture exists for the .
caught up in the
.hot''Th'"I"';"i;i^;;-"""J''uecameinmanvwavsless
relevant'" i"t'-irio" *"'i;;t;;irectlv liberation and fulfillment of the individual. Its genius is that it enables i
the individual to think of commitments-from marriage and work to
't"
newsvstem'd;;;;*"otta'"otgt;t;;;t""tttsfor-greatereffec- political and religious involvement-as enhancements of the sense of
exp er iment allv
tivenessinttt";';;il;si*lt"ly'tt'ltit*avaffluenttwentieth-cen-
g^na';"uttii^t"*t rirt
J il;' "r
individual_well-being rather than as moral imperatives. \. ,
tu ry A meri c
" p:i::: lift In this process' Americans
gratifyng
The culture of the manager and the therapist is thus both recogniz-
to achieve " "'o'" ofexpectations ably continuous with earlier American cultuial forms and yet didrent
i"
learned tt uttt'i"t" "ntitt ";;;;;o ""J""
and stYles of consumPtron'
Culture and Charaeter 49
The Lynds viewed this change with foreboding, feeling that the future of
emphasis on the inde-
point of simittll:t-tt the is an old American democracy lay in the balance.as
from them. The obvious
As we r''*'"tn' telreliance wert we
oendence of the i"i;t;' cultural Much of the public interpreted David Riesman's wide read The
uuliTrl';;";;;i ;f the co*pl'x Lonely Crowd (r95o) in the same way.4e The old independent ..inner-
hm.ric.' "'ru', allied with the utili-
have inherited' The
tip*"iu" culture' "o*attpiybv its readiness to treat directed" American was being replaced by new, "other-directed" corpo-
tttri* p"t"'n'
tarian, reveals i* di-P*;:;i*
rete types, with lamentable results. Read carefully, Riesman's argument is
git' of sel fulfill-
nor mative t"--l'*t"t;'
;; ;*y'ttt"'""t "tte exfectations of what
considerably more complex, and his evaluations are rather different from
ment. What h"' ut"i"pti
"i"* tnt "ld't'o'-tti"" rn a the Lynds'. Riesman actually proposes four character types, not two. Tra-
to defne oneself anew
makes life worth
ttJ: wi'rt ittt rttedom dition-directed character is what most premodern societies produce. It is
represented in America largely by immigrants from peasant societies.
plethoraorl'ntitin'i'i;';;;;*"::,:j',';:,:J:::Jiil"'iln"" Riesman's inner-directed type characterizes old American culture and
seems to be an amalgam ofour biblical, republican, and utilitarian individ-
ir;;ii:il.:lii:'frT[i;"';1r:x,'r"tr*ii*"l.il;
! easing of constrarn ' rulative style of management' ualistic types. Perhaps the inner-directed person is the old independent
wav ro*he citizen, more attuned to his own internal morality than to the cues of his
i' piovides a
tr *?'rf,YL'i:i:i;; i'*;""' fo' topi"g with the often-
neighbors.so But Riesman is far from endorsing the inner-directed type,
beleaguereditdi"i;;i;it;"1"p *ttt"lqt"' bv ex-

life' Yet it does so
for the superego of the inner-directed person is itself an introject from
contradictory n'Jii;;;;;;li: -'*"t'
style inio intimacy' home'
'""a
and com- social authority experienced in childhood. Like the other-directed person
tending ti" t"lt"tii"!"*""g"'itl moral ecologv' responding to the conformist pressures of the immediate social environ-
of
orti'T#;i;?;";"' uvit
norms a
munitv, ."t' ment, the inner-directed person lacks genuine autonomy. The autono-
mous character is Riesman's fourth type and the only one he genuinely
admires. Riesman's concept of the autonomous character is clearly related
to some of the ideas of Erich Fromm and seems to be close to what we
have called the expressive individualist type, especially in its relatively pure
So me Re c ent IntetP r etation
s therapeutic form. Indeed, whatever its immediate reception, Riesman's
book seems to herald an increasing importance ofthe expressive individ-
(tgzg) anMiddletown in
Transition
Robert and Helen Ly ndinMiddtetown ualist style in postwar America, relative to which the other-directed, or
conformist, character seems to have been a relatively transient type.
i*,,.*,:,r,"-"*i#.,,**rl*ii1fiiil:!;j:: That Riesman grew alarmed at some of the implications of his work, or
:ffi il:,T::::iilJi"lrli.;*i::'"tl;:i:::"';*'-
it' Thev took the vear rseo
as a some of the implications some readers drew from it, is documented in
the prefaces he supplied in successive reprintings. But Riesman's later
tion and the social twenties and thirties
1l
'n.j;t:;;;;;"g hesitations do not in the least detract from the value of The Lonely Crowd
baseline with which
,l
il 'J?;;^'il ey saw rhe typlcal
nineteenth-century town
1*ti,t^"rihe
that they studied n rrr,.".-it in- as a landmark study ofthe transformation ofAmerican character.
into the rapidly changing
that Muncie ut""ils;il*'r"'*td I";*1"''
t" th'v."oted the split The only book that we would place together with those of the Lynds
J;;;;;;;b1""
dustrial citv of thirtv dominant and and Riesman as a major interpretive contribution to the understanding
class *jliurg .lasr,^withl. rr-.r oftwentieth-century American character and society is Herv Varenne's
inro a business in community
the latter in many di
t*ffi"rt-" fuil'fanicipationbooks and from Americans Together (tgZZ).tt Varenne's classic study of a small town in r f
tilt"*iht t*o tuiitttown southern 'Wisconsin is the subtlest depiction to date of how American
life. Vhat becomes
what?'i1i';;'
'e general book'about
tiJ;;-itt culture and character interacted in recent times. varenne clearly sees the
Knowtedse Jor brought ti;h h;"ttt
of sociolo'gical
dominance of utilitarian and expressive individualism as modes of char-
American culture' o id ' among social critics--
I
'r"iir'nds
**;;t;t" acter and cultural interaction, and especially the delicate balance be-
I
ll detail to document
;l #;;it;te
'b"me
of"'''the i"Jtpt"dt']t iiti"t''
with its
tween them and their mutual dependence. The drive toward indepen-

namely, the decline i" tr'iL' rise of the busi-
'rthe dence and mastery only makes sense where the individual can also find a
L
strons biblical anu

";i;;i;;';"'
(manage'id) ttal:; i;t-lt"i
ttrtos of utilitarian individualisrn'
l I ness
Transforming
American Cultute 11
As we saw in the precedng

chapter. much of the rhinking
sociery and wherer, abour our
. *;;;;r';;"r
t:lofocus *"r..-, ,"nr. narrowly focussed on our
political economy' This
corporations are the most in that government and the
powerful structur
eve ry t h i n g er s
;. ; ; ;;. ;'":',:
srve concern' such a focus
e, i ncr ud in c
:.J i Jt lftj
is seve-rery limed. Structures
changing' They are frequently re not un_
grow out o{, and also influenc,
*il;; rocial movemenrs, which
.nrnn.rli
op i nio n, a nd c ur r u re.
social theorists in focussing
vr. ' u. li.i i;: ;,',i::'# :HT:::ili
o., th. ,nor.r]rr" .,habits
that include consciousness, of the heart,,_
culrure, .rrJ tfr. daily practices
makes sense to studv of life. It
,roi *rn", are powerfur-in
shorr '" -or..
.rn, ar least, power belon_;.;;itical and economic the
tures-but for two other reasons' struc_
,{ study of the mores gives
into the state of socie'v, ir, us inright
ondly, it is in the spheie of
.oh.r";,; long-term viabilitv.
th. _o..i r"rf*,.1r_ates SLc-
express. that we are Dr of opinior, ,t .y
ro discern i".if."r'.nrnges
or the social'-'g'"lri""',ff of vision_those
l"i::' , indicate where society
A Change of Eras?
In the course of
this b.o].: *.: have clocumented the
process of separarion latest phase of that
and. indiviu;,;;;;odernity seems ro
John Donne, in rrr, enra'.
ar rhe very il;il;;;rhe modern era, wirh rhe
275
Transforning American Culture 2Zz
prescience that is sometimes given to great poets, vividly

described that 'V/andering
between two worlds, one dead,
process: The other powerless to be born.2
'Tis all in peeces, all cohaerence gone;

Alljust supply' and all Relation: is a wîdespread
Prince, Subject, Father, Sonne' are things forgot'
-,,11:." away from us' Afeeling
slrpprng
that the promise of the mode.r
era is
movm.nt orntigtt.n-.nirrlu*rt."
For every man alone thinkes he hath got that was ro have freed us f..3-
,;;;r;i""
To be a Phoenix, and that then can bee twentierh cenrury to a world in ryranny has led in the
""0 ir"rriir_'rii
which id"oiogi.rl
None of that kinde, of which he is, but hee'1 cal oppression have reached if ,r,_
"",r._.lunl;;;",,
ence, which was ro have unlocked
previous historv. Sci_
trr. ou,rri.,
power to desrroy ,tt ttl*.^:n:-.r.tt
. trogr;ss, "f;;;;;;,
*'rt". ,n"
village and leudal mode.nity,smaster idea,
Donne lived in a world where the ties of kinship and seenrs less.compeiling when
it appears trt it may be progress
loosening, though only a few perceived how abyss' And the erobe today is into the
.Ufig"i-" were already iuia. ;;." a liberal world
so inco-
radiial the consequences would be' herenr that it sems ,o u. ioring
older
;;. ,,*..nce of irs own ideals. an
America was lonized by those who had come loose from the oppressive and archaic .o''_rrrirt
rt.tiJm, rrrd, p;;.,' ;il;,J
so from the beginning we had a head start in nical, Third World reachi,rg.fo. ;;ir"_
European structures, and
brought with them ideas
th..;;;;;'.r"*.
liberal'world, rhe state, ..,lrrr. of modernity. In the
,h. pio..r, of modernization' Yet the colonists
to recreate
*r1 ,ppr.a ro be a neutra
.o*r.0,,,T.,,
,rlel,t_
of scial obligation and group formation that disposed them warchman that would mainrain
;;il; ,,'*;".1
in America structures
"faîty,
church, and polity that would
society. Only
continue'
gradu-
various inrerests, has become
,.".d",
;"..;;;;n
and militarized that it
if in modifed form, the textuie of older European threatens to become a universal
poti."_rr.
every social obligation was vulnerable' every Yet in spite ofthose daunting
ally did it become clear that i""rii".riions, many ofthose we talked
fragile' Only gradually did what we have called ro are srill hopeful. They reali
tie between individuals ,frr, tfr.rffrh. p;.;;;;;;.;;;,""
ontological individualism,lh. id.r thar the individual is the
only frm and individuation were necessary
to free us f.om the tyrannical struc-
Even in our day, when separation and indi- tures ofthe pa-st, they must be
reality,"become widespread. brtr"..AUy r.*"*rt ofcommitment
kind of culmination, their triumph is far from community if they are not to end and
viduation have reached a irr seldestruction or tur'into
modernity are still,being fought' their
complete. The battles of indeed *o'ta *"iting to be
nut today the battles have become halhearted' There was a time ;i:i:;: l;':::"ts ' u"" ir-"
individuation
""rv
wherr, u.rder the battle cry of "freedom," separation and
future of unlimited possibility.
*.r. e-br..ed as the key io a marvelous
those, like Donne, who viewed the past
It is true that there were always
p..r.ni with apprehension and who warned that The Culture of Separation
with nostalgia and the
we were ..r..ing .rnkito*n and dangerous waters' It is also true that
their enthusiasm for modernity, who One of the reasons
there are still those who maintain it is hard to envision a ,u
speak of the third wave or the Aquarian Age or the new paradigm
in mo de_.n
n e s s' I
i ty ;, ;;;;;.. to wh ic h * o a..n i,vi:H,i,: :i:'.:l::n:j
will reach a final fulfllment. Perhaps f mo d ern i r v i s"" the . ;";; ;
*t i.t a dissociated individuation
"
ri';;;; l " Do
welt when he sai ,,,Ti, ,iiil;;;;";i;iaerence nn e ch a rac re ri ze d ir
mostcommontoday,however,isanoteofuncertainty'notadesireto ",
world comes ro us in oieces, sone.,, v/hen the
turn back to the pasi but an anxiety about where we seem to be headed' in f..g_ntr, iring any overall pa*ern, ir
In this view, modernity seems to be a period of enormously
rapid ts hard ro see how
it mtghr b.
A sense of fragmenirinêss
,*;;fb;;;;. """
change, a transition from something relatively fixed toward
something ture
is ...riristic of high intellectual cur_
as of popular currure. "r
not ylt clear. Many might find still applicable Matthew Arnold's asser-
tnfluential part of our *ittil,
st..ting rhe mosr respecred and
hig.h cultu-re, ;;'r..
tion that we are whole, offering a generanr"lpr.ri., ar once rhat it is not a
iiirn as theology and phi_
278 Habits oJthe Heart fransfo rmng Am r c an Cul ture
e
279
Danre as his moder,

losophy once did, but a collection of disciplines each having little to do showed h.ow impossible such an integration
under modern condiSnry is
with the others. As Stephen Toulmin recently put it: tio ns. According r.' H.i;;-;;;i.r,
i.'i"", n
huge C,antos are- a ,jumble of detail,,,
i,l_orrr of potsherds,,, of which
Poyld himselffinally ..I
From the early seventeenth century on, and increasingly so as the centu- said, cannot _"L.i, cohere.,,6
ries passed, the tasks of scientifc inquiry were Progressively divicled up
These developments in the realm
of high..rrtur" have had devastating
between separate and distinct "disciplines." . . . Every independent scien- consequences for education. Here,
partic;larly i" high.;;;;;;;;;
tific discipline is marked by its own specialized modes of abstraction: and dents were traditionally.ruppor" ,rr_
;; ;.;;;. some general
sense of rhe
the issues to be considered in each discipline are so defined that they can a"
world and their prace in it' in tt. .ont"-foary
multiversity, it is easier
be investigated and discussed independently-in abstraction from-the to think ofeducation as a cafeteria in
*hih on. acquires discrete bodies
issues belnging to other disciplines.. . . As a result of this first kind of of information or useful skilrs. Feebre.t-fb;;;
to reverse these trends pe_
abstraction, ttt. Uro.d and general questions about "cosmic interrelated- riodically convulse rhe universities, bur
ness,' which were the focus ofthe earlier debates about nature have been
th. l.t.rt ,".; ;;;;drii, ,fr.
effort to establish a "core curriculum,"
superseded by other, more specialized, disciplinary questions' ' ' ' In its often turns into a battle between
disciplines in which the idea of r,rrt*iJ..or.
act-ual content (that is to say) the science of the nineteenth and early twen- is lost. The effort is
thus_more symptomatic ofo,r, cultuJ " fi;;;;r" rhan of irs cure.
tieth centuries became an aggregate, rathet than an integration, ofresults 'When
from its component disciPlines.3 we turn from intellectual .ult,r.. to popular.rrlt,r..,'p".tl.,r_
larly the mass media, the siruation ir, ii"irrti"g,
even more discourag-
ing. Within the discinlinary and. ,"Uir.ipi"rry .comparrments,,
what Toulmin has pointed out for the natural sciences is equally true tellectual cu*ure, thugh.t'h..r. i, h;J. of in_
ofthe social sciences and, indeed, ofall the "disciplines" and "fields" into is still meaning and inrensity in
;;;;rtion b.t*een rhem, there
the ,..r.h ?ruth. In popular cu*ure,
which contemporary intellectual culrure is divided. As the French an- is hard to say even that much.
To take ,rr."*._. example, television,
ir
thropologist Louis Dumont has observed: would be difficult ro rgue that there it
message that it communicates. There
i, .rr-y .ll.r."r;J.b;;;;...r,
is ,..rr. in which the broadcast_
[I]n the modern world each of our particular viewpoints or specialized ers' deGnse of their role_that ,t .y "
_...y
pursuits does not know very well-or does not know at all-what it is rnl.rorlrrg the culture_
has.a.certain plausibility. They do "..
,borrt,.rd th" reason for its existence or distinctness, which is more often a i., r"pp.r any clear set of belie or
policies, yer they casr doubr on.u.ryttri,if.
matter of fact than of consensus or rationality. Just as our rationality is rify "the power structure." Big business-ro-t
ertainly,
they do not glo_
mostly a rnatter of the elation of means and ends, while the hierarchy of its leaders are
frequently power-hungry bJlies *i,h.;;
ends is left out, so also our rationality manifests itself within each of our ;; "-rrable:
, d' ;;; ;il;'o,,.,.,
neatly distinct compartments but not in tireir distribution, definition and
a
I:ll' -",,, i,,"., ;:tJi'.?ffi;i $;l
crans are crooks. Labor is badly
arrangernent, tarnished: labor l;;";;;';;#.;r.
The debunking that is charactri.ri..i"r."re'ectual
characteristic of the mass media. curture is also
While television does not preach, it
The poet and critic wendell Berry has described the consequences for nevertheless presenrs a pr:t1r9
ofreality that influences us more than an
the place of poetry in a culture of separation and specialization. Since overt message could. ,ts Todd
Gitlin has described it,
science specializes in the external reality of the world, the poet iscon-
signed to speak about his own feelings. He is himself his chief subject [T]elevision's world is relentlessly upbeat, clean
and materialistic. Even
-rr". a.ri"th. old union of beauty' goodness and truth when,
is broken'"
as oflate'
more sweepingly, with, few. exceptions
prime time gives r'r. p.opt.lr._
Such poets can no longer be public persons, so that even occupied with personar ambition.
puts
If noi utterlf consumed by ambition
to*"fth.- have turned to protest, it is a private protest' '\s
Berry and the fear ofending up as rosers,
t....'.r"-.tJrs take both rhe anrbitio'
it, "In his protest, the contemporary poet is speaking publicly. but.not as and the fear for granted. Ifnot
surrouna.J uf-iaar.-crass arrays of
con-
, ,pok.r-"rr; he is only one utraged citizen speaking l other citizens sunrer goods, they themselves
are glamorors inc.rrrations of desire.
The
who do not know him, whom ho.s not no*, ,ttd *ith whom
he happiness they long for is private,
;;;;;lt;;;;y make few demands on
the society as a whole, and even
does not sympathize."i Orre recent poet who tried to integrate *he' t.oubl.d they ,e._ content with the
existing institutional order. person.r
*orld-poiitics, economics, culture-into one vast poem, taking ;;iri"";d consumerism are rhe
-f
28o Habits of the Heart Transform ng Am ic an Cul t ure

er zBt
litsettings of 'where
driving forces of their lives. The sumptuous and brightly strong commitments.afe portrayed,
as in police
most series afftount to advertisements for consumption-centered ver- only between buddies, and the.""i-"i"g'rmosphere, dramas, they are
even within the
sion of the good life, and this doesn't even take into consideration the police force, is one of misrrust and
.urpi.io.r.
incessant commercials, which convey the idea that human aspirations for If popular culture, parricularly t.t"rririo'
libert pleasure, accomplishment and status can be fulflled in the realm and the other mass media,
makes a virtue of lacking all qualitative
of .onsrrmption. The relentless background hum of prime time is the diJnctions, and if the intellec_
tual culture, divided ., i,ir, hesitates
packaged good 1ife.7 io * anything ,Uo,r, in.-i..g.,
issues of existence, how does
our cu*ure ita tog.rlr.r at all? The
ture of separation offers two forms cul_
of integration-or should *. ,ry
Gitlin's description applies best to daytime and prime-time soaps. It pseudo-integration?-that turn out, not s'urprisingl to be derived
does not apply narly so well to situation comedies, where human
rela- from utilitarian and expressive individualism.
the situation comedy often orr" i, t. dream Jp.r_
tions are g""..rlly more benign. Indeed, sonal success. s Gitrin has observed,
,.1."ii""^rn*, *'n.ori*n"
portrays p-".opl" tmpted to dishonesty or personal disloyalty by the are, above all, consumed by ambition'and
the fear of endin;;;i;r..,
p.orp., frme private gain, who finally decide to put familyor friends That is a dramawe can all identify
with, at 1...t of us who have been
h.. of -rterial aggrandizemenr. Yet, fnally, both soaps and situation (and who has not?) exposed ," ,r.iat._.i"r, "lt
lr.lu.r. Isolated in our e
comedies are based on the same contrast: human decency versus brutal forts though we are, we can at t."r, ...ogrrire
ou. felrows as fo'owers of
competitiveness for economic success. Although the soaps show us that the same private dream. The second
ir-rt po*..yal of vivid personal
the rurhlessly powerful rich are often unhappy and the situation come- " rro*
feeling' Television is much more inreresr.in
people feel than in
dies show us that decent "little people" are often htppy, they both por- what they think' v/hat they think might
.eparate us, but how thev feel
tray a world dominated by economic competition, where the only haven draws us to gether. Success frl t.l.uirio'r,
p.r!" rl iri.l, J
i, ,rery small circle of warm personal relationships. Thus the'rLeality" thus people able freerv to communi..t. ;i
" h"i. emotional "r"
states. we feel
that looms over a narrowed-down version of "traditional morality" is tla we "really krro* th.m." And the rr..y.orrrrr_ption
goods that tele_
the overwhelming dominance of material ambition. vision so insistently puts before u, i.rt.g.at.r*
by prorridr*,r_",
of course, in television none of these things is ever really argued. our version ofthe good life. But a stranle "f
rort of i.r.g."ri.ir,ir,-rfr.
Since images and feelings are better communicated in this medium than world into which we are integrared lJ.nrr.a
orrty"Uyn.-rp"r"i.
ideas, television seeks to hold us, to hook us, by the sheer succession of transirion between striving an relaxing
and is withorl q"airl"ri*ir-
sensations. One sensation being as good as another, there is the implica- tinctions of time and space, good and
e"rril, meaning and meaningless_
tion that nothing makes any difference. v/e switch from a quiz show to a ness. And however much we may fo.,
__.rrt see something of our_
situation comedy, to a bloody police drama, to a miniseries about celeb- selves in another, we are reall
as Matthew Arnold said in rg5z, ,.in
the
rities, and with each click of the dial, nothing remains' sea of life enisled . . . / We
mortal millions hve alone.,,s
But television operates not only with a complete disconnectedness
between successive programs. Even within a single hour or halhour
program, there is extraorclinary discontinuity. commercials regûlarly
Lr"J'k *h"t.rrer mood has built up with their own, often very different, The Culture of Coherence
emotional message. Even aside from commercials, television style is sin-
gularly abrupt with many quick cuts to other scenes and But that is not the whole story. It could
not be the whole story, for the
"d.utttpy,
th...h.r".rs. Dialogul is.educed to clipped sentences' No one talks culture-of separation, if it ever tecar".
.";;i;.ly dominant, would col_
long enough to express nything complex. Depth offeeling, if it exists at lapse of its own incoherence.
Or, .rr..r -o. keiy, well U... ,l"l n.p_
all, has to be expressed in a word or a glance. pened, an authoritarin state
wourd emerge to provide the coherence
the
The form of television is intimately related to the content' Except for c_ulture no longer could. If
we are.nor .;;ili;. mass of inrerchangeable
the formula situation comedies (and even there, divorce is increasingly tragments within an ggregate,
if we are i part qualitatively distinct
common), relationships are as brittle and shifting as the action of
the members of a whole, ii l, b..atrr.
there are still operating among us,
camera. Mort p.opl. turn out to be unreliable and double-dealing' with whatever diffculties, traditions
,t i.I ,r, the narure of rhe
", "bout
--
z8z Habits of the Heart Transform ing Am e ric a n Culture 283
people. Pri-
world, about the nature of societ and about who we are as
though.the yearning for the small town is nostargia
for the irretrievably
marily biblical and republican, these traditions are, as we have seen,
im- lost, it is worth co'sidering whether the biblica'""d
degree for almost ..p"bli;r"1*l
porr.i, for many Americans and significant -to some tions that small town once embodied can be reappropriated
in ways that
.ll. so*.ho* families, churches, a variety of cultural associations, and, respond to our present need. Indeed, we *o.rld rgrr.
manage to th.t if *. .rr.,
even if only in the interstices, schools and universities, do to enter that new world that so far has bee'po*eriess
to be born,"i.it will
communicate a form of life, a paideia, in the sense of growing up in a be through reversing modernity's t.nd..r.y
obhterate all pr.viou c.rl-
morally and intellectually intelligible world' ture. we need to learn again from the cul'ural riches of the
human spe-
The communities of emory of *hi.h *e have spoken are conce-rned cies and to reappropriate and revitalize those riches
so that they can
of life' to
in a variety of ways to give a qualitative meaning to the living speak to our condition today.
for ex-
time and space, to p.r*t t and groups' Religious communities' we may derive modest hope from the fact that there is a restlessness
ample, do ,rot time in the way the mass media present it-as and a stirring in the intellectual cukure itself Stephen
"*p"ii.rr." sensations' The day' the Toulmin ,.1r, ,r,
. ..rrlttoou, flow of qualitatively meaningless that "our own natural science today is no longer'moderri
science.,, It is a
week, the season, the year are punctuated by an alternation ofthe sacred "postmodern" sciencein which disciplinary oundaries
of a are beginning to
,.rd th. profane. prayer breaki i'to our daily life at the beginning appear as the historical accidents they are and the problems
tht .r. rr..-
.n."t, ,tifr" end of the day, at common worship, reminding us.that our essarily *transdisciplinary" are beginning to be adressed.
fulflled life is one in This recog-
utilitarian pursuits are not the whole of life, that a nition is based on the realizarion that we cnnot, after
all, nrr"rf r.f.r"t.
which Go and neighbor are rdmembered first' Many of our religious who we are from what,we are studying. As Toulmin p,ri, it, .,/.;;
the
traditions recognize the significance of silence as a way of breaking longer view the world as Descarres d Laplace *o't
have us i;, ""
incessant flow f serrsations and opening our hearts to the wholeness of 'rational onlookers,' from outside. our place is within
,,
of giving form to ,rr. ,"-. *"
being. And our republican tradition, too, has ways that we are studying, and whatever sciertific understanding
*. .i.rr.
timel reminding us on particular dates of the great events of our past or musr be a kind of understanding that is available to particiianr,
*irrn
of the heroes who h"lpd to teach us what we are as a free people' Even the processes of nature, i.e., from inside."e perhaps "r,r..
our privare family life takes on a shared rhythm with a Thanksgiving
f....*.a
by the poet, the theologian, and the scientist
-.y b" the same",thirrg rft.,
dinner or a Fourth ofJulY Picnic. all. At least rhere is now room to talk about tht possibility. arritt.r.
In short, we have ,r"rr.ib..n, and still are not, a collection of private are parallel developments in the social scienc... ih.r., ,o,
i, ppears
individuals who, except for a conscious contract to create a minimal gov- that studying history and acting in it are not as different ,,
* nr
ernment, have nothing in common. our lives make sense in a thousand thought. Ifour high culture could begin to talk about nature and
history,
ways, most of which *. unaware of because of traditions that are sp.ac9 a1d time, in ways thatdid not disaggregate
"r. them inro fragments, it
ifnot millennia, old. It is these traditions that help us to know might be possible for us ro find connecrions ind analogies *itlithe
oler
".itu.i.r,
that it does make difference who we are and how we treat one another.
a ways in which human life was made meaningful. This would
and nor resulr
Even the mass media, with their tendency to homogenize feelings in a neotraditionalism that would return us t the past. Rather,
it might
sensations, cannot entirely avoid transmitting such qualitative distinc- lead.to a recovery of a genuine tradition, one that i, .l*"y,
,.1r.rririrrg
tions, in however muted a form. and.in a state ofdevelopment. It might help us find again the
coherence
But if we o\Me the meaning of our lives to biblical and republicantr^- we have almost lost.
ditions of which we seldom consciously think, is there not the danger
that the erosion of these traditions may eventually deprive us of
that
the upper millstone of
meaning altogether? Are we not caughtietween
a fragm"ente{intellectual culture th. nether millstone of a ftag- Social Ecology
".rdof meaning and coherence in our
-".rd popular culture? The erosion yearnng
lives is rrt ,o*.thirrg Americans desire' Indeed, the profound Stephen Toulmin gives an illuminating and suggestive
example of a
people we
for the idealized r*.1-l ,o*n that we found among most of the transdisciplinary development in naturar science tht
h"s a deep lrtiorr-
talked to is a yearning for just such meaning nd coherence'
But al- ship to changes in social practice. The study ofecology
d."*, .r r.r-..-
-
284 Habits oJthe Heart fransform ing Ame r c an Cul ture

28s
learn from our traditions, as well as from the best

ous disciplines to ask the general question, How do living things, includ- currently available
knowledge. v'hat has failed at.rr.rv l.r.l-f.o;J.;i.,"ri",
ing hurn,an beings, exist in relation to one another in their common the national society to the,rocal community ,.
hltatl Since human beings are presently having an enormous impact to tne amitf-]r"rri"",
we have failed to remember "o.r. .o--nity
on the planet earth, which is their habitat and also the habitat of all other body," asJohn winthrop put it. we have commtred
as members of the same
living things, ecology as a science has close connections to ecology as a founders ofour narion wis the cardinal
what," ,rr.,.piuri."r,
philJsophliand as a social movement. Toulmin is not saying that ecolog- ,i,r' * have put
i.rl ,.i.. and ecological social philosophy are identical. He is only
individuals, as groups, as a nation, ahead
ofthe cornmon "". "*t*a, ",
good.
The litmus test thar both the biblical and
saying that there is no way to keep them separate, since every ecological for assaying the hearth ofa sociery is how it
republican t;dirions give us
"fact" has ethical significance.l0 eats *irn irr. fr"ui.- .r
wealth and poverty. The Hebrew p.ophets
It is only , ,t.p b.yotrd Toulmin's argument to suggest that there is took their u^ yll-.',**
in this wim,the poor and oppressecl, .rrd..rie-.red
such a thing as "scial'ecology"-what we have referred to earlier exploited them' The New Testamenr shows
the rich rrra po*..zu *fro
book as
,,or.l ecology"-that raises questions related to, and parallel us aJesus wh lived among
the 'anawimof his day
with, naturl ecology- F{uman beings and their societies are deeply in-
w-!ro recognized the difficulty ,fr. rln
have in responding to 3d
*oul
his call. Both"testaments make it crear
terrelated, and the actions we take have enormous ramifcations for eties sharply divided between rich and poor
that soci-
the lives of others. Much of social science serves to shed light on these will of God. classic republican theory irom Aristotle
are not in accord with the
ramifcations. ro the American
'v/ithout derogating our modern technological achievements, we founders rested on the assumptio., thai free
institutions courd survive in
a society only if there were a rough
now see that they have had devastatingly destructive consequences for equality ofconditiorr, ,t ., .*r.._",
'W'e of we.alth and poverty a.e irrconipatit. *itt,
the natural ecology. are engaged in an effort to mitigate and reverse a republic. Jefferson was
appalled ar the enormous wealth d miserabr.
the damage and regain an ecological balance whose complete loss could po,r..ry ,rrirr. i"a
France and was sanguine about our future
as . f.. p.pl. ;"1;;;;"..
-
p.ove fatal. Modernity has had comparable destructive consequences for we lacked such extremes. Contemporary
social ecology. Human beings have treated one another badly for as long the consequences of poverty and dscriination,
social science has documented
as we have any historical evidence, but modernity has given us a capacity so that most educated
mericans know that much ofwhat makes
for destructiveness on a scale incomparably greatef than in previous cen- hoods unsafe arises from economic and racial
our world .rra or.r. rr.igho._
turies. And social ecology is damaged not only by war' genocide, nd most ofthe people ro whom we talked would
inequality.ll Ceitainly
political repression. It is also damaged by the destruction of the subtle rather live l"'" rrf., ,r.fgfr_
borly world instead ofthe one we have.
ii., thrt bind human beings to one another, leaving them frightened and But the solution to our problems remains opaque
alone. It has been evident for some time that unless we begin to repair because ofour pro_
the damage to our social ecology, we will destroy ourselves long before
found ambivalence. ii-.r r.. prosperous, we do not mind a mod-
est increase in "welfare."'vhen V/hen times .ro,
natural ecological disaster has time to be realized' that at least our own successful careers will ".. save so prosperous, we think
For several centuries, we have been embarked on a great effort to failure and despair. 'wi'e are attracted, against
us and our families from
increase our freedom, wealth, and power. For over a hundred years' a that poverry will be alleviated by the crimbs
our skepticism, to the idea
large part of the American people, the middle class, has imagined that table, as the Neocapitalist ideoogy tells
that fall from the rich mans
the viitual meaning of life lies in the acquisition of ever-increasing sta- us. Some of us oft.r, f".flrrd
most of us sometimes feel, that *. ,.. only
tus, income, and aulhority, from which genuine freedom is supposed to someone if we have ,.rnade
aspi- it" and can look down on those who h.rr. ,rot.
come. Our achievements have been enormous' They permit us the often a very private dream of being the
The American dream is
ration to become a genuinely humane society in a genuinely drcent star, the uniquely successfur and
admirable one, the one who srands out
world, and provide many of the mens to attain that aspiration' Yet
we fro the crowd of ordinary folk
interna- who don't know how. And since we have
seem to be hvering on the very brink of disaster, not only from long time and worked very hard to make
berieved in that dream for a
tional conflict but from the internal incoherence of our own soclety' it come true, it is hard for us to
'What slide toward the abyss? il even though it conrradicts anorher dream
has gone wrong? How can we reverse the Tllrrvlng "p:rn rhar we have-rhat
we carr ur a soclery that would really be worth
In thining about what has gone wrong' we need to see what living in.
286 Habits of the Heart Transforming American Culture 2g7
v/hat we fear above all, and what keeps the new world powerless to be the economy, certainly not nationalization. It would mean changing the
born, is that ifwe give up our dream of private success for a more genu- climate in which business operates so as to encourage new initiatives in
inely integrated societal community, we will be abandoning our separa- economic democracy and social responsibilit whether from ..private"
tion and individuation, collapsing into dependence and tyranny. What enterprise or autonomous small- and middle-scale public enterpiises. In
we {nd hard to see is that it is the extreme fragmentation ofthe modern the context ofa moral concern to revive our sociar eology, the proposals
world that really threatens our individuation; that what is best in our of the proponents of the Administered Sociery and Ecnomi. o-o.-
as per-
separation and individuation, our sense of dignity and autonomy racy that we discussed in the preceding chapter could be considered and
so-ns, requires a new integration if it is to be sustained' appropriate ones adopted. 12
The nttion of a gansiiion to a new level of social integration, a newly To be truly transformative, such a social movement would not simply
project
vital social ecology, may also be resisted as absurdly 1t"P1"1' as a subside after achieving some of its goals, leaving the political process
But transformation of which we speak is much as it found it. one of its most important contribution, *orrld b. to
to ..."t" p"rfet'rociety. the
" Without it, indeed, there may be very little restore the dignity and legitimacy of democratic politics. we have seen in
both necessary and modest.
future to think about at all. earlier chapters how suspicious Americans are of politics as an area in
which arbitrary differences ofopinion and interest can be resolved only by
power and manipulation. The recovery ofour social ecology would ailow
us to link interests with a conception of the commot goo. with a more
Reconstituting the So cal World explicit understanding ofwhat we have in common an the goals we seek
to attain together, the differences between us that remain would be less
The transformation ofour culture and our society would have to happen threatening. w'e could move to ameliorate the differences that are patently
at a number of levels. If it occurred only in the minds of individuals (as unfair while respecting differences based on morally intelligible mmit-
to some degree it already has), it would be powerless' If it came only ments.,of course, a political discourse that could discuss substantivejus-
from the ini-tiative of the itate, it would be tyrannical. Personal transfor- tice and not only procedural rules would have to be embodied in effeciive
mation among large numbers is essential, and it must not only be a political institutions, probably including a revitalized parry sysrem.
transformatioi ofnsciousness but must also involve individual action' It is evident that a thin political consensus, limited large to proce-
But individuals need the nurture of groups that carry a moral tradition dural matters, cannot support a coherent and effective potlticat ryrt.-.
reinforcing their own aspirations. Implicitly or explicitly, a number of For decades that has become ever clearer. we have been ifraid to tiy for a
the comminities of memory we have discussed in this book hold ethical more substantial consensus for fear that the effort may produce unac-
commitments that require new social ecology in our present situation. ceptable levels ofconflict. But ifwe had the courage to face our deepen-
But out of existing groups and organizations, there would also have to ing political and economic difficulties, we might find that rhere is more
develop a social -on ttt"ttt dedicated to the idea of such a transforma- basic agreement than we had imagined. Certainly, the only way to find
tion. We'have several times spoken of the Civil Rights movement as an out is to raise the level of public political discourse so that the fundamen-
example. It permanently changed consciousness, in the sense of individ- tal problems are addressed rather than obscured.13
.r"l atiitrrd", toward race, and it altered our social life so as to eliminate If we are right in our stress on a revitalized social ecology, then one
overt expressions of discrimination. Ifthe Civil Rights movement.failed critically important action that government could take in a new political
fundamntally to transform the position of black people in our society,
it atmosphere would be, in ChristopherJencks's words, to reduce the ,,pun-
was because to do that would halve requiredjust the change in our
social ishments of failure and the rewards of success."la Reducing the inrdi-
our
ecology that we are now discussing. So a movement to transform nate rewards ofambition and our inordinate fears ofending up as losers
,o.i"i."ology would, among other things, be the successor and fulfill- would offer the possibility of a great change in the meaning f work in
ment of tnJ*l Rights movement. Finally, such a social movement our society and all that would go with such a change. To make a real
and
would lead to changes in the relationship beiween our government difference, such a shift in rewards would have to be a part of a reappro-
of
our economy. This would not necessari *"t" more irect control priation of the idea of vocation or calling, a return in new way to the

,l 288 Habits of the Heart Transformng Amercan Culture z8g
idea of work as e contribution to the good of all and not merely

as a what seemed at first to be a change only in the nature ofwork would turn
means to one's own advancement' out to have major consequences for family life as well.
Iftheextrinsicrewardsandpunishmentsassociatedwithworkwere Another consequence of the change in the meaning of work from
reduced, it would be possible to ake vocational choices
more in terms of private aggrandizement to public contribution would be to weaken the
intrinsic satisfactions. work that is intrinsically interesting and valuable is motive to keep the complexity ofour society invisible. It would become
for revitalized social ecology' For profes- part of the ethos ofwork to be aware ofour intricate connectedness and
one ofthe central requirements a
large institutions most of interdependence. There would be no fear ofsocial catastrophe or hope of
sionals, this would ri..r, clearer sense that the
" A bright youlg-law- inordinate reward motivating us to exaggerate our own independence.
them work for really contribute to the public good'
for that matter) whose work consists in help- And with such a change, we might begin to be better able to understand
y., 1o, Uright old iawyer,
" cor-poration ot*it another is intelligent enough to doubt the why, though we are all, as human beings, morally deserving of equal
ng rr.
r."L"tifiti of what he or she is doing' The work may be interesting- respect, some of us begin with familial or cultural advantages or disad-
exciting-yet its intrinsic meaninglessness in any vantages that others do not have. Or perhaps, since we would not con-
.""" .ft"U."ging and
Lrg". -or"ior"social contex necessari produces an alienation that
is ceive of life so much in terms of a race in which all the prizes go to the
the relatively large income of corporate lawyers' swiftest, we might begin to make moral sense of the fact that there are
orry p"*ty assuaged by
repetitive' and real cultural differences among us, that we do not all want the same
Ths" *hor. *of ir nt only poor rewarded but boring'
unchallenging are in *t*e situation' 'Automation that turns mil- thing, and that it is not a moral defect to find other things in life of
"n "rr.r,
into mere servants of robots is already a form ofdes- interest besides consuming ambition. In short, a restored social ecology
lions oforir citizens
potir-, for which the pleasures of private life-modest enough for those might allow us to mirigare the harm that has been done to disadvantagd
f rni.ri-.r- skill and minimum wage-cannot compensate' The social groups without blaming the victims or trying to turn them into .r.on
of a few,
wealth that aurometion brings, if it is not siphoned into the hands copies of middle-class high achievers.
can be used to pay for work that is intdnsically valuable' in the form of a It should be clear that we are not arguing, as some of those we criti-
revival of cr"ft, (that already flourish in supplying goods for the wealthy) cizedin chapter ro have done, that a few new twists in the organization
I
and in the improvement of iruman services. Where routine
work is essen- of the economy would solve all our problems. It is true that a change in
I
tial, its monotony can be mitigated by including workers in fuller partici- the meaning ofwork and the relation ofwork and reward is at the eart
i
pation in their enterprises so that they understand how their work con- ofany recovery ofour social ecology. But such a change involves a deep
iributes to the ultimate product and have an elfective voice in how those cultural, social, and even psychological transformation that is not to b
enterprises are run. brought about by expert fine-tuning ofeconomic institutions alone. On
pursuit
undoubtedly, the satisfaction ofwork well done, indeed "the the contrary, at every point, institutional changes, educational changes,
of excellence," is a permanent and positive human motive. where its and motivational changes would go hand in hand. For example, part of
reward is the approbation ofone's felliws more than the accumulation
of our task might well involve e recovery of older notions of the corpora-
to whet the founders ofour repub- tion. As Alan Trachtenberg has written:
great private *..trrt, it can contribute
lic called civic virtue. Indeed, in a revived social ecology' it would
be a
it would flow a number of posi- The word [corporation] refers to any association of individuals bound
frirrr".y form ofcivic virtue. And from together into a corpus, a body sharing a common purpose in a common
ii.r. .onr.qrrences. For one thing, the split between private and public' name. In the past, that purpose had usually been communal or religious;
to be
work and iamily, that has gro* for over a century' might begin boroughs, guilds, monasteries, and bishoprics were the earliest European
and,more
mended. If the ethos of wrk were less brutally competitive manifestations of the corporte form. . . . It was assumed, as it is still in
it would be more to"'o""tti*ith the ethos of
ecologically harmonious, nonprofit corporations, that the incorporated body earned its charter by
for
pri raie life and, Particulerly, of family life' A less frantic concern serving the public good. . . . Until after the Civil War, indeed, rhe as-
men and
advancement and a ."du.iion of working hours for both
-
sumption was widespread that a corporate charter was a privilege to be
in the
women would make it easier for women to be full participan granted only by a special of state legislature, and then for purposes
men ^ct
workplace without abandoning family life' By the,s,ame token' clearly in the public interest. ^
Incorporation was not yet thought of as a
would be freed to take an equal iole at home and in child care. In this way' right available on application by any private enterprise. ls
I
2go Habits of the Heart Transforming American Culture 2gr
As late as rgrr, as we saw in chapter ro, a leading Boston businessman, found out I had to give up that hold on myself. Now it has hold of me,
Henry Lee Higginson, could say, following earlier Protestant notions of whatever'it' is."16 What this student found is that the meaning of life is
stewardship, that corporate Property "belongs to the community"' not to be discovered in manipulative control in the service of the self,
Reasserting the idea that incorporation is a concession ofpublic author- Rather, through the disciplined practices of a religious way of life, the
ity to a private group in returnfor service to the public good, with_effective student found his self more grasped than grasping. It is not surprising
pnbli. would change what is now called the "social respon- that "selrealization' in this case has occurred in the context ofa second
"..o,tntability,
corporatiof' from its present status, where it is often a kind language, the allusive language of Zen Buddhism, and community that
riUitiry of the a
ofpublic relationi whipped cream decorating the corporate p'dding, to a attempts to put that language into practice.
constitutive structural element in the corporation itself This, in turn, Many Americans are concerned to find meaning in life not primarily
would involve a fundamental alteration in the role and training ofthe man- through selcultivation but through intense relations with others. Ro-
ager. Management would become a profession in the older sense of the mantic love is still idealized in our society. It can, of course, be remark-
rJord, involving not merely standards of technical competence but stan- ably selindulgent, even an excuse to use another for one's own grati-
dards of public obligation that could at moments of conflict override obli- fication. But it can also be a revelation ofthe poverty of the selfand lead
gations to th" corprate employer. Such a.conception of the professional to a genuine humility in the presence of the beloved. We have noted in
t.rr"g". would require a deep change in the ethos of schools of business the early chapters ofthis book that the therapeutically inclined, jealous
administration, where "business ethics" would have to become central in though they are oftheir personal autonomy, nonetheless seek enduring
the process of professional formation. Ifthe rewards ofsuccess in business attachments and a community within which those attachments can be
management were not so inordinate, then choice of this profession could nurtured. As in the case of selcultivation, there is in the desire for in-
arise irom more public-spirited motives. In short, personal, cultural, and tense relationships with others an attempt to move beyond the isolated
structural change all entail one another. self,, even though the language of individualism makes that sometimes
hard to articulate.
Much ofwhat is called "consumerism," end often condemned as such,
must be understood in this same ambiguous, ambivalent context. t-
Signs oJthe Times tempts to create a beautiful place in which to live, to eat well and in a
convivial atmosphere, to visit beautiful places where one may enjoy works
Few of those with whom we talked would have described the problems ofart, or simply lie in the sun and swim in the sea, often involve an element
facing our society in exactly the terms we have just used. But few have of giving to another and find their meaning in a committed relationship.lT
foun a hfe devoted to "personal ambition and consumerism" satisfac- Where the creation of a consumption-oriented lifestyle, which may re-
tory, and most are seeking in one way or another to transcend the limita- semble that of "the beautiful people" or may simply involve a comfortable
tions ofa selcentered life. If there are vast numbers of a selfsh, narcissis- home and a camper, becomes a form of defense against a dangerous and
,,me
tic generation" in America, we did not find them, but we certainly meaningless world, it probably takes on a greater burden than it can bear.
did find-that the language of individualism, the primary American lan- In that case, the effort to move beyond the selfhas ended too quickly in the
guage of selunderstanding, limits the ways in which people think' "little circle offamily and friends" ofwhich Tocqueville spoke, but even so
"
"rry Americans are dvoted to serious, even ascetic, cultivation of the initial impulse was not simply selfish.
the se1 ln the form ofa number of disciplines, practices, and "trainings"' With the weakening ofthe traditional forms of life that gave aesthetic
often ofgreat rigor. There is a question;s to whether these practices lead and moral meaning to everyday living, Americans have been improvis-
to the selrealization or selfulfillment at which they aim or only to an ing alternatives more or less successfully. They engage, sometimes with
obsessive selmanipulation that defeats the proclaimed purpose'- But
it intense involvement, in a wide variety ofarts, sports, and nature appreci-
is not uncom-o.t fo, those who are attempting to fnd themselves to - ation, sometimes as spectators but often as active participants. Some of
exarnple' a
fnd in that very process something that tranicends them' For these activities involve conscious traditions and demanding practices,
stop
Zen student ,eprted: "I started Zento get something for myself, to such as ballet. Others, such as walking in the country orjogging, may be
suffering, to gt enlightened. Whatever it was, I wasoing it for myself purely improvisational, though not devoid of some structure of shared
I had ho"ld oimyselfrrd I was reaching for something' Then to do
it' I meaning. Not infrequently, moments of intense awareness, what are
292 Habits of the Heart Trun sfo rm i ng Ame r i c an Cul ture 293
ficantly by one strand of contemporary ,tmerican

sometimes called "peak experiences," occur in the midst of such activi- political philosophy
that is trying to rethink the .eputlican tradition. paur
ties. At such moments, a piofound sense ofwell-being eclipsesthe usual Morrison draws
on contemporary rheorogy and theorogical ethics
utilitarian preoccupations of everyday life' But the capacity of such ex- for herp in thrnking
through his positions..It may not ,l*.y be easy
periences to provie more than a momentary co'nterweight to
pres- to find, b.rt th.
ex- fragments of our inteilectual culture there is "morrg
l,rr., of .rr..yday life is minimal. Where these activities fnd social crearly ,ig"inl."i-i,".r.
form of what we have called t\e being done.
pression *t it is apt to be in the
"il,
if.style enclave. The groups that form around them are too evanescent, '\nd while our universities are under greater pressure than ever to
hold on emphasize pragmatic results-technologi-cal achivements
too iherently restricd in membership, and too slight in their oriented skills-there are voices calling r
and career_
mo-
their members' loyalty to carry much public weight' Only at rare
role ofeducation as a way to articulate
a reaffi.mation ofthe classic
ments do such largely-expressive solidarities create anything
like a civic lrivate aspirations with common
-_o."
wins a national meanings so thar individuals simultaeourty
consciousnesr, i"h.r, a local professional sports team 91ltur-al U.._.
", to euphoric sense of metropolitan fully developed people and citizens of a free society.
.h"-pionrhip and briefly gives rise a Eva Brann has re_
cent given an eloquent defense of this understanding
belongingness. of education in
locked into a split between a her Parailoxes of Education in a Repubric. She argues
miry f tn"re with whom we talked were that in education at
private world supposed to pro- present, the choice is either tradition or technique,
public world ofcompetitive striving and a and that technique
has become far too dominant.ls The result is
,rid. th. meaning an love that make competitive striving bearable. Some, thaiin the murtiversities of
split, to make our today, it is hard to find a single book, even a single pt.y
however, *.r. g"g"d in an effort to overcome this ofSn.t.rp"..t,
word' to recover that all the students in a large class know. when education
public and oo, pti*i. worlds mutually coherent-in a becomes an
Mary Taylor, Ed Schwartz' and instrument for individual careerism, it cannot provide
ur social ecology. Cecilia Dougherty, meaning or civic culture. And yet, somehow, the
either personal
paul Morrison, whom .\r'e met near the end of chapters 6, 7,8, and 9, are tradition o.,
--- -- g.,
transmitted, at least to students who seek it out.
examples of those engaged in such efforts' Cecilia Dougherty is working

Tradition gets transmitted because there are still teachers
for a society in which the "have-nots" can have voice and participation, who love it
and in whih her children and grandchildren can safely lead their lives. 1"d yl":,r"not help rransmitting it. Helen Vendler, in t ., ,9o fr.ri_
dential address to the Modern Language Association,
Mary Taylor is rrying to rhink about the long haul, at least the next passage at the end of V/ordswoth,s Thi prelude:
took as her text a
t*e.rty-frrr. years and notjust the next one or two years that preocc-upy
most politicians. She is concerned to repair the damage that has been done
both io our natural ecology and to our social ecology' Ed Schwartz is
concerned with the dehumanizing aspect of the way we organize work
and is trying to bring rhe moral concerns of the biblical and republican others w'r rove, and we #lii:il:'*
traditions into our economic structures. Paul Morrison is attempting to
build a strong parish life so that the members of his congregation can
carry out vocati,ons in the world that will really make a difference. She sums up her argument by saying:
All of ,h.r. people are drawing on our republican and biblical tradi-
tions, trying to mrk. what have become second languages into ou
first
It is not within our power-t9 reform the primary and secondary
t"t g,r"g Vf. have spoken of "reappropriating tradition'-that is'
even if we have a sense of how that reform might begin. w. o
schools,
"girr. applying it actively and creatively to r*" ii
nr'irrirrJ.nance in tradition and within our power, I believe, to reform ourselves, to make it our
own first
people gi". specifc examples ofwhat that
our prsent realities. These task to give, especially to our beginning students,
that rich web ofassocia-
"t of
*.*r. Y/e may ask what Ap tft""y receivê in their reappropriationthe -
tions, lodged in the tales ofmarity an minority cultures
alike, by which
traditions from the major culiural institutions of our society. Here they could begin to understand themselves as inividuals
and as social be_
culture, ings. . . . All freshman English courses, to my mind, should
story is mixed. In spite"of the fragmentation of our intellectual devote at least
to some of those to halftheir rime to the reading-of myth, legen and parable;
work done in the universities did provide assistance b.gi;;l;;
signi- language courses should dohe same. . ""d to
I V. o*. it to ourselves
whom we talked. For example, E S.h*a'tz has been influenced . show
294 Habits of the Heatt Transforming American Culture zgs
we owe their dormant rnLeviathan, Hobbes summed up his teaching about human life by ar-
our students, when they frst meet us, what we are:
thwarted for so long in their previous schooling' that deep sus- guing that the first "general inclination of mankind" is "a perpetuar and
"fp.rit..,rirr, *ill make them rJa[ze that they too' having been taught' love
irr"n.. restless desire of power after power, that ceaseth only in ."th."rt Brrt
what we love.le we are beginning to see now that the race of which he speaks has no
winner, and if power is our only e'd, the death in question may not be
schools merely personal, but civilizational.
If college education, and probably more than a few secondary
with some of.the help we need-to make Yet we still have the capacity to reconsider the course upon which we
a, well, aie still providing us
vital rsource ii out lives, it is hard to see how that other great are embarked. The morally concerned social movement, informed by re-
tradition a
for the publican and biblical sentiments, has stood us in good stead in the pasi and
.rlti,r..t institution, television, which competes with the schools
for the continuing education ofadults' suc- may still do so again. But we have never before faced a situation tht called
.Jrr.r,ion ofour youth and
from public tele- our deepest assumptions so radically into question. our problems today
ceeds in doing so' Except for some notable contributions
it devoid of any notion of coherent tradition' are notjust political. They are moral and have ro do with the meaning of
vision, most programi,tg
intrviews, and from what we can observe more life. we have assumed that as long as economic growth continued, we
On the baiis f our
many Americans are could leave all else to the private sphere. Now that economic growth is
generally in our society today, it is not clear that
t-h1"g:.i" the way we have been living' faltering and the moral ecology on which we have tacitly depended is in
;;;.;. to consider a slgniliatttlife is still strong, though dissatisfaction disarray, we are beginning to understand that our .o-.,'o., lif. requires
itr of the packag.d good
"U,r.. are fairly ingenious in fnding temporary ways more than an exclusive concern for material accumulation
is widespread. Americans
ecology' Perhaps liG is not a race whose only goal is being foremost. perhaps
to counract the harsher consequences ofour damaged social
ancient Rom also apply to us: "'we have reached the true felicity does not lie in continually outgoing the next before. perhaps
Livy,s words about
But' as some the truth lies in what most of the world outside the modern 'west has
point where we cannot bear either our vices or their cure'"
ofthe people to whom we talked believe' the time always believed, namely that there are practices of life, good in them_
f,h. rno." Perceptive
or fall into selves, that are inherenrly fulfilling. Perhaps work that s intrinsically
may be appioaching when w will either reform our republic
before us' rewarding is better for human beings than work that is only extrinsical
the hands f d.rpott-' as many republics have done
rewarded. Perhaps enduring commitment to those we love and civic
friendship toward our fellow citizens are preferable to restless competi-
tion and anxious seldefense. Perhaps common worship, in which we
express our gratitude and wonder in the face of the mystery of being
The PovertY of ffiuence itsel{, is the most important thing ofall. If so, we will have to change our
painted lives and begin to remember what we have been happier to forget.
At the very beginning of the modern era' Thomas Hobbes of the
a
v/e will need to remember that we did not create ourselves, that we owe
tlicture of human .*irt*"t that was to be all too
pro-phetic
b.t"g. H. life of mn" ro a race and what we are to the communities that formed us, and to what paul Tillich
ioj];;.#;;i;;" compared..the
no otherSodl'^nor other called "the structure of grace in history" that made such communities
said, "But this taee *"-i* 'oppo" to have
iTrk,v"iu.ing ..t"ost, an'in it [to give only a few of his many possible. we will need to see the srory of our life on this earth not as en
specifications]: unbroken success but as a history of suffering as well asjoy. v/e will need
to remember the millions of suffering people in the world today and the
millions whose suffering in the past made our presenr afHuence possible.
To consider them behind, is glorY,
Above all, we will need to remember our poverty. We have been
To consider them before, tshumility'
called a people of plent and though our per capita GNp has been sur-
To fall on the sudden, is disposition to eep'
passed by several other nations, we are still enormously affluent. yet the
To see another fall, is disposition to laugh'
Continually to be out-gone, ismisery' truth of our condition is our poverty. we are finally defenseress on this
Continually to out-go the next before, rsJelicity' earth. Our material belongings have not brought us happiness. Our mil-
And to forsake the course, is to die'2o itary defenses will not avert nucleer destruction. Noi is there any in-
crease in productivity or any new weapons system that will change the Appendix : Social Science
truth ofour condition.
'we
have imagined ourselves a special creation, set apart from other as Public Philosophy
humans. In the late twentieth century, we see that our poverty is as abso-
lure as that of the pooresr of nations.'v/e have attempted to deny the
human condition in our quest for power after power. It would be well for
us to rejoin the human race, to accept our essential poverty as a gift, and
to share our material wealth with those in need'
Such a vision is neither conservative nor liberal in terms of the trun-
cated spectrum of present American political discourse. It does not seek
to retuin to the harmony of a "traditional" society, though it is open to
learning from the wisdom of such societies. It does not reject the mod-
ern cricism of all traditions, but it insists in turn on the criticism of
criticism, that human life is lived in the balance between faith and doubt.
Tocqueville was following precedent when he wrore in the introduction
Such a vision arises not only from the theories of intellectuals, but from
to volume t of Democracy in America, "A new political science is needed
the practices of life that Americans are already engaged in. Such a vision
for aworld itself quite new"1 Someone in almost every generation
,..k, to combine social concern with ultimate concern in a way that ing the past several centuries has announced that t,r.h rr.* social
dur-
slights the claims ofneither. Above all, such a vision seeks the confirma- sci-
ence has begun or is about to begin. often this claim" meant
tion or correction of discussion and experiment with our friends, our that the
social sciences were about to attain the status ofthe natural sciences. yet
fellow citizens.
those who expected social science to attain the same kind ofcumulative-
ness' agreement on paradigms, and obsolescence ofpredecessors
as net-
ural science have been perennially disappointed.
n Although Tocqueville's contemporary and fellow counrryman Aug_
uste comte was one of the most ardent disseminators of what we
call the myth of social science-the idea that social science is soon -iglt
to te-
come like natural science-there is no reason to believe that Tocqueville
shared that idea. Indeed, Tocqueville's argument for a new sciencJ
rested
specifically on the notion_ that the object of study-namely, society in
a
new world-was new and therefore required a new approacil. Tocqueville
returned throughout his life ro several major figurs in the tradiion of
French social thought: pascal, Montesquieu, Ro,rrr.au. He did not
".r
believe them outmoded or prescientific. yet Tocqueville saw that the task
of appropriating and applying their insights ro a new historical siruarion
could not be automatic but was so demanding as to require the invention
ofsomething like a new science. In that sense, each genlration, no matter
how much it learns from tradition or how much iiis aware that, unlike
naiural science, it cannot forget its founders, must still create a new
social
science for new realities.
If we, too, have had to find a new way to deal with new realities,
we
have done so not by imagining that witir us a
truly scientific social sci-
ence has at last arrived but by consciously trying
to renew an older con- 297

Habits of The Heart

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The Pursut of Happiness 2t

20 Habits oJtlrc Heart

cornmitments. In the language they use, their lives sound more

aa Habits oJthe Heart

ened our convicrion

answer those questio;;,

his home town'

24 Habits of the Heart

Habits of the Heart

30 Habits oJthe Heatt

Habits of the Heart

here. Suffice n tt '"'-tr"'liy

life devoted to the calculating pursuit of one's olvn mterial interest

;: il:f"f ii: i::il .li il:lf i

i 3+ Habits oJthe Heart

lff ;;;;u*'""'1[iffi ll:'*:"*i'"iif

For'Whitman' suc( in the sensual

Ag;i" *i'tt fair creation'2o

36 Habits of the Heart

Tocqueville argues that while the physical circumstances of the

Habits oJthe Heart

'i,:,:',',i"ffi ::"i:il:ti{:ti:ffi .r'f#

It was this Tocquevillean image of the American town thatJoe Gorman

;:; i:, #:i: ii*is**;:fi : ;

**tl":*i;'i::i;'?ff ii'ffi ""d'uu'-i'copera'led

The citizen perceived by Tocqueville was indeed closer to being an indi-

42 Habits of the Heart

the m ost rapid and n;;;i belng ,

live' and one

r"i.rrr govern menr, rhe new

44 Habits oJthe Heart

r much of the moral

' ffi ;;; ir ;f ll'1";.""1'itiff:,i.li.r. ha s been ro c re ate

46 Habits oJthe Heart

beleaguereditdi"i;;i;it;"1"p *ttt"lqt"' bv ex-

strons biblical anu

As we saw in the precedng

prescience that is sometimes given to great poets, vividly

'Tis all in peeces, all cohaerence gone;

Danre as his moder,

28o Habits of the Heart Transform ng Am ic an Cul t ure

z8z Habits of the Heart Transform ing Am e ric a n Culture 283

284 Habits oJthe Heart fransform ing Ame r c an Cul ture

learn from our traditions, as well as from the best

,l 288 Habits of the Heart Transformng Amercan Culture z8g

idea of work as e contribution to the good of all and not merely

ficantly by one strand of contemporary ,tmerican

examples of those engaged in such efforts' Cecilia Dougherty is working

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