There's no more quintessential term about American culture than "the American Dream". Numerous speeches, books, movies, studies, songs and plays have critically dealt with it and in its pithy expression and connotations, it's uniquely American.
I thought about it recently when reading of an etymologist disputing its attribution to Pulitzer Prize-winning writer James Adams, who first used it in his best-selling 1931 book, Epic of America. Regardless, numerous commentators have written of the term's existence in spirit as the prevailing American ethos, right back to the founding fathers. Its meaning, despite Adams' actual description, evolved into belief in a social structure allowing upward social mobility and material comfort through initiative, hard work and risk-taking. Adams placed great emphasis on an ordered society in allowing social mobility, rather than just material well-being.
I wait amused during every presidential campaign for the incumbent's opposing party's candidate to trot out the American dream catch-cry, as they do every time in speeches, along with the cringe-making "We're taking back America", the implication being that the current office-holder has somehow turned the dream into a nightmare. Americans seemingly lap this up without embarrassment.
Imagine a New Zealand opposition electioneering politician coming out with "We're taking back New Zealand". The derisory laughter would be deafening. Are we, therefore, more cynical or less optimistic than American voters? Probably the latter because, even before Adams' book, the said belief in the American dream and its implicit optimism was an abiding article of faith up until the 1930s depression, whereupon for the first time its validity became challenged. Even The Great Gatsby was viewed by the American left as evidence of the dream's illusory nature while many commentators questioned the practical reality of its aspirational goals.
John Steinbeck, particularly with Of Mice and Men and its hopeful but never attainable dream of "just a small ranch with some chickens", epitomised the belief that the aspiration, at least for some, was a myth. The doubts lingered on after the war, reflected by Arthur Miller's poignant 1949 play, Death of a Salesman, about a worn out, failed salesman, beaten down by the system.