Some days I did not get out of bed. I wondered why I wasn’t given the option of demotion. My seniority should have counted for something.
Now I spend my days searching for work. It’s hard to compete for jobs at my age. I hate putting my previous salary and age on applications. They are red flags. I developed a wall of rejection letters. I took it down because it started to depress me.
To broaden my opportunities and keep my mind fresh, I began taking technology courses in college. I also passed the real estate exam. I’m trying to make it by any means necessary, even selling my homemade candy door-to-door. The candy sold well, but it takes gas to travel. I have had only good feedback about the candy so I’ll continue to pursue this dream, moving my sales online.
I applied for unemployment, and am back in the role of house wife. My children are adults now. They think the world of me. They cannot believe I have been out of work for so long. In their minds I was the one who was going to be a millionaire. I sometimes feel that I let them down.
I have been out of work since 2007. After all the years I have worked and raised a family, I’m now dealing with threats to turn off my utilities and repossess my car.
What have I learned from being unemployed? That it’s frustrating and demoralizing. I have learned that I don’t want to be dependent on a Congress that obviously does not have America’s best interests at heart. I have learned to have more compassion for people who are in this situation.
I know there are many stories out there and mine is not the worst, but at times it feels like it is. It’s like waking up in the same nightmare every day with no way out. There is a scripture I hold on to and say to myself when I open my eyes in the morning: “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” My response is, “Lord, I am asking for Your help, knocking on the door, asking you to open it and find favor on my family this day.”
Chapter 2 NIGHTMARE ON MAIN STREET
America has long been known as the land of opportunity. So what happens when that opportunity vanishes, when the jobs that served as the gateway to the American Dream disappear, never to return? What happens when educational opportunities and the historical underpinning of our vision of ourselves as a nation give way? What steps into the void?
In a word: fear.
The fear that America is in decline—that our greatest triumphs are behind us. The fear that the jobs we have lost are gone forever. The fear that the middle class is on an extended death march—and that the American Dream of a secure, comfortable standard of living has become as outdated as an Edsel with an eight-track player.
We look at our obliterated 401(k)s and dwindling pensions, and hear the whispers about Social Security going broke, and we wonder if we will ever be able to retire—let alone maintain our standard of living into our sunset years. Golden visions of post-work leisure time have been replaced by dark, fevered flashes of deprivation—of having to decide between eating and paying for the medicine we need. Of letting our homes go into foreclosure to scrape together the money to live on.
The void is filled by the fear that America is becoming a nation of haves and have-nots—and that millions are in danger of becoming permanent members of the have-nots. Forget Freddy Krueger. The real nightmare is not happening on Elm Street. It’s happening on Main Street. And it’s not scantily clad teens being slashed—it’s jobs and incomes and stability and quality of life. It’s our future.
And we’re afraid—very afraid—that the worst may not be over, and that the real economy, as opposed to the one on Wall Street, is still melting down. The housing crisis is still raging. The first run of foreclosures was because of subprime loans; the second run is because of people thrown out of work. And the government’s loan modification programs won’t be of any help with this round of foreclosures. As Newsweek’s Nancy Cook pointed out,90 “If you’re unemployed, you don’t qualify for a loan modification.” And then there is the coming commercial property crisis and a potential credit card meltdown.
So we look at the suffering all around us, at the shuttered factories and stores, and worry that it is just the tip of the iceberg—or the tip of the tip of the iceberg. We try to fight off the fear that if things don’t change—and in a big way—we may find ourselves working at Walmart or McDonald’s or Dunkin’ Donuts for minimum wage.
We are fast becoming a nation collectively waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Washington is filled with talk about national security: troop levels, airport screenings, Pentagon bud gets, and terrorist threats. But there is another kind of national security: the one that keeps us feeling confident that the economic rug isn’t going to suddenly be pulled out from under us, and that our way of life isn’t going to suddenly implode—the kind of national security that gives us hope for the future. For that national security, especially when it comes to America’s middle class, the threat level has definitely moved from yellow (“elevated”) to orange (“high”)—and we are afraid that red (“severe”) is looming up ahead.
For more and more of its citizens, America has become a national insecurity state.
THE BROKEN BACKBONE OF AMERICA
In 1835, Alexis de Tocqueville published Democracy in America, his observations on the nature of our country. The opening line speaks volumes: “Amongst the novel objects91 that attracted my attention during my stay in the United States, nothing struck me more forcibly than the general equality of condition among the people.”
Looking across the vast expanse of this developing country, the thing that most drew his attention was a vision of America as a level playing field, a place where the same rules applied to everyone. “Democratic laws,” he noted,92 “generally tend to promote the welfare of the greatest possible number; for they emanate from the majority of the citizens, who are subject to error, but who cannot have an interest opposed to their own advantage.”
America’s enlightened elites have always understood that their long-term well-being and security depended on the middle and lower classes having an equal stake in the nation’s prosperity and political institutions. They knew that this great democratic experiment would be defined not by breeding or religion or language, but by a unifying idea—“All men are created equal”—and by an ideal: the good of the many outweighs the good of the few. E pluribus unum. Out of many, one. In the infancy of our nation, Tocqueville saw the power of this idea and its centrality to the American experiment.
He traveled across America before the industrial revolution transformed the country. Once it did, manufacturing jobs helped turn the working poor into middle-class Americans, liberating them from the shackles of a hand-to-mouth existence and moving them closer to enjoying a “general equality of condition.”
So, is America still a nation where its citizens enjoy a “general equality of condition”? Are we still promoting “the welfare of the greatest possible number”? It’s hard to imagine a modern Tocqueville taking in the grand sweep of our current political and economic landscape—with its shrinking middle class, disappearing jobs, growing economic disparity, banking oligarchy, and public policy sold to the highest bidder—and reaching the same conclusions.
Tocqueville’s words are deeply at odds with the reality of modern America. For decades our political leaders have systematically squeezed the nation’s middle class in order to promote the corporate
