The American Dream is a fable of individualized success. If you outwork and outthink and out-hustle the competition, this is truly the land of opportunity. Anything is possible…and if you succeed, it’s because you worked harder and better and deserved it more. This myth is conveniently helpful for praising success, but mighty damaging in explaining failure. If you don’t attain your goals (or at least the goals foisted upon you), the blame is on you and you alone. It’s your fault that you’re not living up to the standards set by billboards, magazine ads and television.
Part babysitter, part opinion-giver and part hypnotist, the TV has come to dominate American life like no other invention. We learn what to eat, how to dress, what to say and how to think all from that glowing box in our bedroom and living room…and kitchen and gym and bank and airport (there seems to be a TV everywhere). The payoff for all this spectatorship is a lifestyle based on imitation, competition, materialism and self-delusion. The TV keeps us inactive while our biology desires movement. The TV sells us junk food while our bodies crave nutrients. The TV trains us to be obedient while our minds yearn for freedom. The TV teaches conformity while our souls demand individuality.
The average post-modern American couch potato watches three hours and 46 minutes of television every day (the equivalent of 52 consecutive, non-stop TV-watching days a year). By the time your typical kid graduates high school, he or she has sat through 360,000 television commercials and by age 70, they will have spent 10 of those years watching TV.
If we were to trust our own instincts and break free from manufactured needs and illusory goals, we can cultivate new American Dreams (yes, plural). Dreams not for sale to the highest bidder. Dreams not based solely on material consumption or physical beauty. We need dreams that promote and extol unity and collective success while maintaining our individuality and independence: Dreams that challenge humans to think for themselves and about others. Like any journey, it starts with a first step: Throw away your remote.