Arthur Miller’s iconic character Willy Loman, in the play Death of a Salesman, lives out before the audience the last 24 hours of his unraveling life–a life that has been filled with disappointment and unfulfilled dreams. In a conversation with Linda, his long-suffering and enabling wife, Willy complains:
“The way they boxed us in here. Bricks and windows, windows and bricks. The street is lined with cars. There’s not a breath of fresh air in the neighborhood. The grass don’t grow any more, you can’t raise a carrot in the back yard. They should’ve had a law against apartment houses.”
Linda protests, “Well, after all, people had to move somewhere,” to which Willy–increasingly agitated–responds, “No, there’s more people now.” When Linda contradicts with “I don’t think there’s more people,” Willy erupts:
“There’s more people! That’s what’s ruining this country! Population is getting out of control. The competition is maddening!”
I recently read Irving Stone’s historical novel Those Who Love, about the lives of John and Abigail Adams, which led my thoughts back to the question of how our country’s–and our world’s–vastly expanded population changes how we live and the privileges and responsibilities we have as citizens.
For perspective, here are some numbers. In 1787, our Constitution was ratified; and three years later, in 1790, the first U.S. Census was conducted. The official population count at that time was 3,929,214; in 1949, the number was just over 149 million; and in 2021, the United States is home to over 331 million people. That means, in the 230+ years since our country’s founding, the population has grown to just over 84 times larger than it was in the beginning.
In 1790, the five largest U. S. cities were New York (33,131), Philadelphia (28,522), Boston (18,320), Charleston (16,359), and Baltimore (13,503). According to my handy calculator, the combined populations of those five cities is 109, 835. In 2021, New York City is home to a walloping 8,550,405; Philadelphia, 5,734,000; Boston, 4,315,000; Charleston, 421,774; and Baltimore, 2,333,000. Grabbing the calculator again, that’s a total of 21,354,179–or an increase of almost 195 times. Charleston, no longer even ranked among the country’s largest cities, is now home to nearly four times as many people as all five of 1790’s largest cities were. In fact, my tiny hometown Troy, Ohio–with its 2020 population of 26,739–is larger than four of the five largest cities in the country in 1790.
So at this stage you must be wondering, “Okay, but what’s your point?” Well, for one, a Constitution that was written for thirteen states, with a total head count of 3,929,214, now has to be applied to fifty states bursting with 331,000,000 people. Laws and customs meant to insure order and tranquility among a small number of humans spread out over a large continent must now be stretched to govern densely populated cities where as Willy Loman laments “There’s not a breath of fresh air.”
Imagine yourself at a buffet loaded with an abundance of delicious-looking foods. You take a quick glance around and discover you are one of only six people who will share this bounty. You each could eat your fill, and beyond, and have leftovers enough to do it again tomorrow and maybe the next day. Now picture the same amount of food to be shared by twenty people, now fifty. As the number grows but the resources remain the same, different considerations apply. Although six people might just stuff themselves into a food coma, twenty or fifty would have to calculate their fair share. Restraint, respect, and possibly a little sacrifice would have to be exercised.
Now go back to the comparison between the 2021 and 1790 census counts: 331,000,000 vs 3,929,214, and remember that’s a ratio of over 84:1. For every one person fighting for social and professional recognition in 1790, there are now 84 people; for every person using Earth’s resources then, we have 84 now; for every right granted to one person, we’re now granting that same right to 84 people. Cities are larger, there’s far less open territory, and the year of COVID has demonstrated what can happen to supply chains when an unexpected disaster occurs.
I recently made a trip to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks and was awestruck by the magnificence of Nature’s creations and by the immense power just beneath the surface that has the potential to change the whole face of that area in one moment. Yellowstone sits on top of a volcano, which has the whole place simmering like a pot of soup all the time. Old Faithful is the most well known of the many geysers in the park but only one of many, not to mention “mud pots,” steam holes, and other geothermic features. Watching Old Faithful erupt is breathtaking but also a reminder of how little control humans have over Nature.
Many scoff at the concept that humans must respect their use of the planet and be conscious of individual carbon footprints, and perhaps in 1790, people didn’t need to know much about such things; but because this is not 1790, and because there are now 84 times as many carbon footprints wreaking havoc on Earth’s fragile ecosystem, we absolutely must be conscious and careful consumers of Earth’s resources. Anyone who’s ever moved into a home or apartment after a previous resident has trashed the place knows what it takes to make the home livable again; if we trash the whole planet by our selfishness and greed, no amount of “remodeling” will put it back together. If our carelessness and selfishness change the climate and therefore the entire infrastructure, the results can’t even be fully predicted. Each of us is a tenant of this small planet for only a brief moment in time, and not one of us has the right to leave the place in a diminished condition.
Poet Ezra Pound wrote a haiku titled “In a Station of the Metro,” which for me has always evoked an image of life in the 20th and now 21st centuries:
“The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.”
In the days when the largest U.S. cities were smaller than our current small towns, individual citizens had opportunities to know a larger percentage of their neighbors; and there were fewer strangers to fear, a narrower range of opinions on civic matters, less competition for jobs and positions, more opportunities to stand out of the crowd and to distinguish themselves. In other words, meeting what Abraham Maslow called their “belonging” needs (level 3 in his hierarchy) and “esteem” needs (level 4) was a whole lot easier in 1790. It was not easy, of course, and not everyone found satisfaction for those needs, but there was far less stress and less competition then than now.
By 1913 when Ezra Pound wrote “In a Station of the Metro,” his image of “apparitions” (ghosts or ghostlike images) must have resonated with a generation in which the world was about to explode into its first worldwide war and in which finding a place to belong and to stand out had just gotten much more difficult. Now, 108 years later, Pound’s images are even more compelling. How many citizens today feel faceless and meaningless, like beautiful petals–their individual colors, shapes, and fragrances so fragile and fleeting–made transparent against the dark branch from which they grew.
What might people do to find the significance and meaningful existence they crave? Might they align themselves with a reality-TV star bent on destroying our democracy to feel they are part of something greater than themselves, to know what it means to be part of a powerful inner circle? Might they latch onto the most outlandish conspiracy theories if doing so made them feel they were the ones “in the know,” superior to those pathetic sheeple who believe what scientists and other suspicious sources tell them to believe? Might they join a mob that would attack our nation’s capitol intent on overturning the results of a fair election just to know the heady feeling of power and control that would result from literally shitting on the seat of the government which they feel has left them out?
Americans’ concern for their personal rights could “rightly” be called an obsession, and guarding one’s personal freedoms is a good thing so long as every person remains aware that each one of the 331,000,000 who currently call this country home is entitled to the same freedoms and rights. As a young person, I often heard the saying “Your right to swing your arm ends where my nose begins.” The 33,131 citizens of 1790 New York City might swing their arms all day long without coming near another person’s nose. On today’s crowded NYC streets, however, the 8,550,405 New Yorkers can barely reach for the crossing button at a street corner without touching another human.
With greater numbers comes greater diversity and the necessity for a paradigm shift in our attitudes toward equality and individual rights. Purging outdated ideas of “normal” is a starting point. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the percentage of our population classified as “White only” (not Hispanic or Latino) was about 60% in 2020. Also from the U.S. Census Bureau, the percentage of Whites in the 1790 population was 80.7%, and that percentage increased steadily until it reached its peak in 1940 (89.8%) but has been declining every decade since 1940.
Racial and ethnic origin is, of course, not the only way in which the U.S. has become a more diverse nation. Ideas and practices have changed on everything from gender identity to marriage norms to women’s roles to religious affiliation and much more. In Irving Stone’s historical novel about John and Abigail Adams, the narrator often mentions the custom of the “holy walk,” practiced in the 1700s in cities both large and small. People would join their neighbors in Sunday morning community strolls toward their places of worship. Today, there is no such unity of thought about religious beliefs or church attendance. Growing up in a small town, I knew two women who we thought “might be” Lesbians. Today, I have many gay and Lesbian friends and have had numerous gay and Lesbian students. Applications and information forms used to offer two choices for gender: male and female; today’s forms have extended that list to four, five, or six choices, including “prefer not to say.”
One approach to living in a larger, more diverse population is to panic over one’s diminishing racial supremacy, loss of status, and lack of control. Such an approach might include creating a political party which recognizes only straight, white men; acknowledges only what the party regards as a “traditional” identity and lifestyle; advocates outlawing further watering down of the white majority; and restricts the rights of those who don’t fit their narrow definition of normal and acceptable. That party might also tie their rigid ideals to religious precepts to gain the benefit of appearing to be in alliance with God and claim to have the powers of the universe behind their corrupt purposes.
Dehumanizing “the other” is a strategy as old as humanity itself. Any time one person or people group has wanted to dominate or eliminate another group, they’ve simply declared the unwanted group a lesser species. Hitler did it, American slave owners did it, colonizers who found Native Americans a deterrent to accomplishing their goals did it. Certain Americans of the 21st century are doing it to immigrants, women, people of color, LGBTQ people. If their lives can be deemed of lesser value, taking away their rights can be justified–to some minds.
How does all of this change our responsibility as citizens? I’m not part of that political party which supports white supremacy; I respect my fellow citizens of all races and ethnicities, national origins, sexual and gender identities, and religious beliefs; I do my best to help others, to show kindness and compassion to all. But I can’t stop there.
The luxury of being a good person but uninvolved citizen is one no longer available to responsible people. Casting our votes, then trusting elected officials to do their jobs while we go on about our daily lives is not an option.
Darnella Frazier, the teen who filmed George Floyd’s murder with her cell phone camera when all she had intended to do at that moment was walk down the street to Cup Foods–something she had done “hundreds, maybe thousands of times”–took action when she saw an injustice being committed. If not for her cell phone video, the world might never have known exactly how George Floyd died and his murderer might have been released to harm others. Ms. Frazier made the statement:
“Even though this was a traumatic life-changing experience for me, I’m proud of myself. If it weren’t for my video, the world wouldn’t have known the truth. I own that. My video didn’t save George Floyd, but it put his murderer away and off the streets.”
At 18 years old, Ms. Frazier is now the recipient of a Special Pulitzer Award for her courage and responsibility.
Before February 2018, few people outside Parkland, Florida, had ever heard of Emma Gonzalez or David Hogg; now everyone knows who they are. Google them and you’ll find “American Activist” just below their names. These two young people survived the horrific mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, then turned their grief and anger into action, becoming highly vocal advocates for gun reform. They have led high-profile marches and protests, given numerous media interviews, and were (along with three of their fellow students) included on Time Magazine’s 2018 list “Time 100: The Most Influential People.”
Congressman and civil rights activist John Lewis put it this way:
“When you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, you have to speak up. You have to say something; you have to do something.”
These young people, along with many others, saw something that wasn’t right, they said something, and they did something. No one of any generation has a right to do otherwise. “There’s more people now,” and that means more problems, a broader range of ideas, and the need for more understanding and the responsibility to take action. And it also means there is a place for everyone–all 331,000,000 of us! Elected officials are appointed to lead us, not to do all of our thinking and our work for us. Their job is to represent us; our job is to hold them accountable.
“There’s more people now.” It’s easy to fall into a feeling of meaninglessness, worthlessness, like those “apparitions in the crowd” Ezra Pound wrote about. It’s understandable to fear the loss of rights and freedom, but guarding those rights and freedoms means doing more than just complaining or trying to compensate by taking away the rights and freedoms of others. John Lewis perfectly described our duties as citizens in a global, diverse culture:
“Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.”