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I spent the July 4th weekend in my own Americana clichAf(c): I relaxed in the humid heartland, drank one too many alcoholic beverages (screwdrivers), ate at a chain restaurant (Noodles & Company), played with my dog (a golden retriever mix) and attended Hollywood's latest paean to mediocrity (Will Smith's "Hancock"). I was in the bucolic suburbs of Lafayette, Ind., but really, I could have been anywhere or everywhere in America -- which is both satisfying and troubling.
I spent the July 4th weekend in my own Americana clichAf(c): I relaxed in the humid heartland, drank one too many alcoholic beverages (screwdrivers), ate at a chain restaurant (Noodles & Company), played with my dog (a golden retriever mix) and attended Hollywood's latest paean to mediocrity (Will Smith's "Hancock"). I was in the bucolic suburbs of Lafayette, Ind., but really, I could have been anywhere or everywhere in America -- which is both satisfying and troubling.
In the lead-up to my Independence Day respite, I went through the montage of diners, rental car counters and air mattresses commonly known as a book tour. The nationwide journey has been a blur -- and not because I've been under-rested and over-caffeinated, but because America's newly homogenized culture has made everything seem the same.
As I discovered, the contemporary road trip tells the tale of hegemony better than even shared holiday experiences. Turn on your car radio and your listening experience is standardized. No matter where you are, you find yourself unable to find much other than either Rush Limbaugh rants or Bad Company songs on a dial now owned by a tiny group of conglomerates. The offramp pit stop -- once the spicy outpost of local flavor -- today seems mass-produced from a Chinese factory, a bustling harbor of franchise commerce astride Jack Kerouac's endless road. Towering signs for Applebee's, Wendy's and Bob Evans are the boat masts on a sea of corporate food below.
Sure, when you drive north to south, Arby's morphs into Shoney's, and when you drive east to west, the Wawas become Circle K's. And yeah, you'll find differing street sign fonts, varied twangs and the occasional idiosyncratic landmark. But with the chain store-ification of culture, that's about it -- and today, even our politics is a victim.
At bookstore events in every corner of the country, the discussion is almost completely national focused. Who will be the vice presidential nominees? What will the latest scandal mean for the presidential candidates? How can Democrats or Republicans win the congressional election?
The queries, of course, reflect homogenized news from a consolidated media industry that increasingly provides cheap-to-produce, cheaper-to-replicate federal-level horse-race speculation instead of detailed local coverage. The result is that Americans obsess over distant political soap operas and palace dramas while neglecting pressing issues in their backyards.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm no troglodyte pining for a heterogeneous golden age that never was, nor am I a New Ager opposing all mass culture on a hyper-localist fantasy that never will be. There's a good side to this. It's great that we can, for example, widely distribute medicine (believe me, without stomach analgesics at every convenience store my trip would have been unbearable). It's also terrific that we can have truly national conversations about presidential campaigns and difficult issues like race.
Then again, it's not great that our best-known commodities in this culture are fast-foods, gas-guzzling SUVs and subpar Will Smith movies. It's also bad that we more often end up having national conversations about celebrity breakups -- and that when we do talk politics, Washington, D.C., is considered more important than what happens in our own state capitols and city councils. Indeed, in making anywhere into everywhere, homogenization has swallowed up not only our downtowns, restaurants and radio stations, but even our understanding of American democracy.
This is the most significant -- and scariest -- downside.
As we have faced health, energy and environmental emergencies that demand customized answers, homogenization has taken us from "think global, act local" to "obsess federal, ignore local" -- right when imminent crises mean we need to act more locally than ever. Because of this, America may yet become a casualty of its own cultural conquest.
David Sirota is a best-selling author whose newest book, "The Uprising," was released last month. He is a fellow at the Campaign for America's Future and a board member of the Progressive States Network, both nonpartisan organizations. His blog is at www.credoaction.com/sirota.
(c) 2008 Creators Syndicate Inc.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
I spent the July 4th weekend in my own Americana clichAf(c): I relaxed in the humid heartland, drank one too many alcoholic beverages (screwdrivers), ate at a chain restaurant (Noodles & Company), played with my dog (a golden retriever mix) and attended Hollywood's latest paean to mediocrity (Will Smith's "Hancock"). I was in the bucolic suburbs of Lafayette, Ind., but really, I could have been anywhere or everywhere in America -- which is both satisfying and troubling.
In the lead-up to my Independence Day respite, I went through the montage of diners, rental car counters and air mattresses commonly known as a book tour. The nationwide journey has been a blur -- and not because I've been under-rested and over-caffeinated, but because America's newly homogenized culture has made everything seem the same.
As I discovered, the contemporary road trip tells the tale of hegemony better than even shared holiday experiences. Turn on your car radio and your listening experience is standardized. No matter where you are, you find yourself unable to find much other than either Rush Limbaugh rants or Bad Company songs on a dial now owned by a tiny group of conglomerates. The offramp pit stop -- once the spicy outpost of local flavor -- today seems mass-produced from a Chinese factory, a bustling harbor of franchise commerce astride Jack Kerouac's endless road. Towering signs for Applebee's, Wendy's and Bob Evans are the boat masts on a sea of corporate food below.
Sure, when you drive north to south, Arby's morphs into Shoney's, and when you drive east to west, the Wawas become Circle K's. And yeah, you'll find differing street sign fonts, varied twangs and the occasional idiosyncratic landmark. But with the chain store-ification of culture, that's about it -- and today, even our politics is a victim.
At bookstore events in every corner of the country, the discussion is almost completely national focused. Who will be the vice presidential nominees? What will the latest scandal mean for the presidential candidates? How can Democrats or Republicans win the congressional election?
The queries, of course, reflect homogenized news from a consolidated media industry that increasingly provides cheap-to-produce, cheaper-to-replicate federal-level horse-race speculation instead of detailed local coverage. The result is that Americans obsess over distant political soap operas and palace dramas while neglecting pressing issues in their backyards.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm no troglodyte pining for a heterogeneous golden age that never was, nor am I a New Ager opposing all mass culture on a hyper-localist fantasy that never will be. There's a good side to this. It's great that we can, for example, widely distribute medicine (believe me, without stomach analgesics at every convenience store my trip would have been unbearable). It's also terrific that we can have truly national conversations about presidential campaigns and difficult issues like race.
Then again, it's not great that our best-known commodities in this culture are fast-foods, gas-guzzling SUVs and subpar Will Smith movies. It's also bad that we more often end up having national conversations about celebrity breakups -- and that when we do talk politics, Washington, D.C., is considered more important than what happens in our own state capitols and city councils. Indeed, in making anywhere into everywhere, homogenization has swallowed up not only our downtowns, restaurants and radio stations, but even our understanding of American democracy.
This is the most significant -- and scariest -- downside.
As we have faced health, energy and environmental emergencies that demand customized answers, homogenization has taken us from "think global, act local" to "obsess federal, ignore local" -- right when imminent crises mean we need to act more locally than ever. Because of this, America may yet become a casualty of its own cultural conquest.
David Sirota is a best-selling author whose newest book, "The Uprising," was released last month. He is a fellow at the Campaign for America's Future and a board member of the Progressive States Network, both nonpartisan organizations. His blog is at www.credoaction.com/sirota.
(c) 2008 Creators Syndicate Inc.
I spent the July 4th weekend in my own Americana clichAf(c): I relaxed in the humid heartland, drank one too many alcoholic beverages (screwdrivers), ate at a chain restaurant (Noodles & Company), played with my dog (a golden retriever mix) and attended Hollywood's latest paean to mediocrity (Will Smith's "Hancock"). I was in the bucolic suburbs of Lafayette, Ind., but really, I could have been anywhere or everywhere in America -- which is both satisfying and troubling.
In the lead-up to my Independence Day respite, I went through the montage of diners, rental car counters and air mattresses commonly known as a book tour. The nationwide journey has been a blur -- and not because I've been under-rested and over-caffeinated, but because America's newly homogenized culture has made everything seem the same.
As I discovered, the contemporary road trip tells the tale of hegemony better than even shared holiday experiences. Turn on your car radio and your listening experience is standardized. No matter where you are, you find yourself unable to find much other than either Rush Limbaugh rants or Bad Company songs on a dial now owned by a tiny group of conglomerates. The offramp pit stop -- once the spicy outpost of local flavor -- today seems mass-produced from a Chinese factory, a bustling harbor of franchise commerce astride Jack Kerouac's endless road. Towering signs for Applebee's, Wendy's and Bob Evans are the boat masts on a sea of corporate food below.
Sure, when you drive north to south, Arby's morphs into Shoney's, and when you drive east to west, the Wawas become Circle K's. And yeah, you'll find differing street sign fonts, varied twangs and the occasional idiosyncratic landmark. But with the chain store-ification of culture, that's about it -- and today, even our politics is a victim.
At bookstore events in every corner of the country, the discussion is almost completely national focused. Who will be the vice presidential nominees? What will the latest scandal mean for the presidential candidates? How can Democrats or Republicans win the congressional election?
The queries, of course, reflect homogenized news from a consolidated media industry that increasingly provides cheap-to-produce, cheaper-to-replicate federal-level horse-race speculation instead of detailed local coverage. The result is that Americans obsess over distant political soap operas and palace dramas while neglecting pressing issues in their backyards.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm no troglodyte pining for a heterogeneous golden age that never was, nor am I a New Ager opposing all mass culture on a hyper-localist fantasy that never will be. There's a good side to this. It's great that we can, for example, widely distribute medicine (believe me, without stomach analgesics at every convenience store my trip would have been unbearable). It's also terrific that we can have truly national conversations about presidential campaigns and difficult issues like race.
Then again, it's not great that our best-known commodities in this culture are fast-foods, gas-guzzling SUVs and subpar Will Smith movies. It's also bad that we more often end up having national conversations about celebrity breakups -- and that when we do talk politics, Washington, D.C., is considered more important than what happens in our own state capitols and city councils. Indeed, in making anywhere into everywhere, homogenization has swallowed up not only our downtowns, restaurants and radio stations, but even our understanding of American democracy.
This is the most significant -- and scariest -- downside.
As we have faced health, energy and environmental emergencies that demand customized answers, homogenization has taken us from "think global, act local" to "obsess federal, ignore local" -- right when imminent crises mean we need to act more locally than ever. Because of this, America may yet become a casualty of its own cultural conquest.
David Sirota is a best-selling author whose newest book, "The Uprising," was released last month. He is a fellow at the Campaign for America's Future and a board member of the Progressive States Network, both nonpartisan organizations. His blog is at www.credoaction.com/sirota.
(c) 2008 Creators Syndicate Inc.