A City on a Hill?

On November 14 students, host families, and curious passers-by like me gathered at Macalester College's Ruth Stricker Dayton Auditorium to listen to participants of the World Press Institute's program discuss their four-month visit to the United States. Each journalist was given a few minutes to describe his or her impressions, and then the floor was opened to questions submitted from the audience. While one focus of attention was the American media, these remarks, considered en masse , fleshed out a fairly consistent picture of what the United States actually looks and feels like to the inquisitive foreigner

1) It's very big.

Several of the fellows commented on the nation's remarkable size, and Jan Stuchlik of the Czech Republic pointed out that this immensity goes a long way toward explaining why World news may sometimes seem under-represented in the American press. “If the states of the European Union were combined,” he observed, “then much of what we call World news in Europe would become domestic news. Considered in that light, I think the United States may have more international coverage than the average European newspaper.”

2) Americans are very hospitable.

Nearly all of the fellows were lavish in their praise of the hospitality of Americans—the host families involved in the program first of all, but also the Americans they met during their travels. Sam Velum of Papua New Guinea even good-humoredly praised the tireless efforts of his hosts to take him to places he didn't want to go to.

3) The United States remains a model for the rest of the world.

Mamadou Thior of Senegal resorted to the Puritan image of the “city on a hill” to describe the lofty position that the United States continues to hold—which also leaves it exposed to unparalleled critical scrutiny. Addressing the issue of voter fraud associated with computerized voting, and the widespread belief in other parts of the world that recent presidential elections have been rigged, Thior was a bit incredulous. “Come on, you have been conducting elections for more than two-hundred years!” The message being, I guess, “We're counting on you guys, at any rate, to get it right.”

4) Its faults are no less glaring than its virtues.

Because of its immense size, vitality, intellectual creativity, and economic success, few visitors can do anything but wonder at the striking inequalities of wealth and the generally spotty social safety net the United States possesses. A visit to New Orleans left several of the fellows dumbfounded. Why has so little been done to rebuilt that venerable city?

Silvia Taules of Spain noted America's many contradictions with a degree of whimsical appreciation: the Phillip Morris Corporation offering literature designed to help you quit smoking? and casinos carrying advertisements offering to help you quit gambling? In fact, Taules went so far as to say she likes the United States precisely because of its many contradictions—but that's also why she hates it.

Taules specializes in stories relating to recent immigrants and the poor in Spain, and during the questions she was asked by moderator Kathy Wurzer, on behalf of one member of the audience, to offer insights on why the same Americans who were so hospitable to them would then turn such a cold shoulder on the poor. “It's just like that in Spain or anywhere else,” she replied with common-sense directness. “We're not poor. We're journalists. We're professionals.”

Later in the program Silvia put in a good word for older American journalists. “I was surprised to see how hard they're still working,” she said. “In Spain, the only thing older journalists care about is money.”

A few of the participants set their personal reaction to the United States aside in order to fill us in on what's been going on in their own countries. Lu Hongyong of China, for example, delivered a rather lengthy analysis, heavily draped in business jargon, of the rising disparity in wealth between urban and rural Chinese. And Kyaw Min Swe of Myanmar gave us a brief overview of his tiny nation, describing it as sandwiched between China and India, the two most populous nations on earth,. “I don't much like sandwiches,” he added in his gentle sing-song voice, leaving us wondering if he was talking about American food or international politics. Kyaw also drew attention to a few of the illustrious citizens of his nation, including U. N. Secretary General U Thant and Aung San Suu Kyi, who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991 for her non-violent struggle against the military dictatorship that has kept her under house arrest on-and-off for the last fifteen years. Discussions of elections, personal freedoms, and the role of the journalist take on a different cast in such a political environment, and when Kyaw told the audience he was perfectly at ease using his nation's former name, Burma, I couldn't help wondering if this was about as far as he felt he could go in expressing his dislike for the current regime.

The vital role of journalism in promoting truth and justice was also underscored by Rusudan Tsereteli of the Republic of Georgia, who was outspoken in her dislike of the American mainstream media's sycophantic reluctance to criticize those in power. Like many of us, she was distressed to observe how swiftly and decisively all the major news magazines suddenly begun dumping on our president when it appeared he had fallen from popular favor. (What took them so long?) Though she has called her fellow-journalists to task in Georgia for embroidering their reports rather than sticking to the facts, she also expressed the view that American journalists aren't very good at telling stories. Their articles tend to be uninteresting and “dry,” she told us.

Discussing these issues later with Semantics King Jr. of Liberia, I pointed out that most news sources are funded by readers and advertisers, and face the daily challenge of telling the truth as well as they can without alienating their sources of revenue. “Much of what's now creeping into the mainstream press about Bush and the war in Iraq,” I told him, “has been the common coin of liberal magazines and on Web sites for years.”

“But that's not the way it should be,” he replied. “In Liberia, I conducted radio programs on human rights, putting my life in danger. I had to flee the country and I now live and broadcast from Ghana. To me journalism is a moral imperative—a true calling.”

Most American journalists and editors feel the same way, I'm sure, though they're seldom required to lay things on the line as dramatically as Semantics was, and are also distracted by more than occasional glances at the “bottom line.”

Unfortunately, many of the questions offered to the fellows after the introductory remarks were distressingly general (“Does the world fear America?”) and several were blatantly narcissistic. In essence: “You've told us what you think about us ... now tell us more about what you think about us.” On the other hand, they also offered further opportunities for the fellows to share their insights. When asked what surprised him most about the United States, Sam Vulum mentioned the food: “You seldom really know what you're eating,” he said. Jan Stuchlik said, “When I arrived at the airport in New York I got my bags within ten minutes. That would never happen in Prague.” Jan was also astounded by the sight of innumerable lanes of cars streaming across the border into California from Tijuana.

After the meeting broke up many of the fellows gathered at the home of Frank and Judy Jossi to continue the discussion and just to hang out. I picked up a few interesting notions about the flora of Australia during a brief conversation with Claire Gorman of Canberra. Her remarks were witty and erudite, but I do believe I introduced her to a new phrase: “Boreal forest.” (Well, why does she need to know that?) I discussed the extraordinary income gap in Brazil (which is among the worst in the world) with São Paulo's Solange Azevedo though neither of us could put our finger on the reason why this should be. We were on more familiar ground discussing forró , choro , and the career of Brazilian pop singer Marisa Monte. And Rusudan Tsereteli helped me bring a little clarity to the recent separatist rumblings on the Republic of Georgia's mountainous northern border—in her view a lingering echo from the era of the Soviet Union's somewhat bogus “autonomous regions.”

It was mentioned in the brochure that Jan Stuchlik, the foreign desk editor at Ekonom, the largest business weekly in the Czech Republic, was interested in comparing American federalism to both the realities and future prospects of the European Union, and I took the opportunity to ask him how he thought the European project was going. “Well, at first it was eight or nine rich nations and two poor ones. Then we let in another group, and with the imminent arrival of Bulgaria and Romania, it will be eight or nine poor nations along with fourteen or fifteen rich ones. The ratio is changing and many people are worried about it. The only real purpose and goal of the Union seems to be to add new members. It needs to have a more distinct focus.”

I asked him about the current situation in the Czech Republic, where a tie in the legislative assembly has led to a long period with no executive in power, and he replied incredulously, “Why would anyone devise a constitution in which there could be a tie!” Good point. When I asked him to comment on the career of Václav Havel, the playwright and later Czechoslovakia's most eminent public figure, he was somewhat at a loss for words. “He wrote some absurdist plays... I don't really know why he got so famous.” I brought up the patronizing role often taken by the French in European affairs, and he presented me with the following analogy: as France is to Europe, so America is to the world. I couldn't resist pointing out (without in any way defending America's recent brutal and offensive swaggering) that for good or for ill, the United States (unlike France) has security interests throughout the world, and provides military support to nations from Japan, Korea, and Taiwan in the east to the Balkans and beyond in the west. I expressed doubt that the European Union itself would ever be able to devise a coherent foreign policy, and Jan reluctantly agreed. “When you consider that America got it values from Europe,” I remarked, “I sometimes wonder why Europeans don't take more pride in their little brother across the Atlantic.”

“You should go and tell that to the French,” he said, and we both laughed.

We went on to discuss the keen desire of the Slovaks to defeat the Czechs in hockey and the exaggerated elation they felt when they finally did so in the consolation round of a recent tournament. (Shades of “Miracle on Ice”?)

It had been a long day for these women and men, and the party broke up well before midnight with far too many questions unasked and unanswered. As I was saying goodnight to Jan I told him how much I'd enjoyed our chat, and he paid me the unusual compliment of replying, “You are one of the few people I've met on this trip who seem truly interested in Europe.” This was merely a pleasantry, no doubt, considering the places these fellows have been to, the journalists they've met, and the extraordinary graciousness and intelligence of the hosts they've been staying with, but it got me to thinking about how difficult it is to develop sufficient background in any part of the world to move beyond the revealing but not entirely satisfactory impressions of wealth, obesity, pop music, and persecution that fuel our understanding of other cultures—and also our own.

For a Johnny-come-lately like me the beauty of the WPI program is that in a single evening it gives a face and a personality to places like Myanmar, Liberia, and the Czech Republic. Often that's all we need to set us out on explorations of our own. It's also worthwhile being reminded by others of the enduring value of the institutions upon which the United States was built, which are often distorted and debased by political rhetoric to the point that we can hardly keep them in focus.

I don't remember his precise words, but Lu Hongyong, the tough-minded business journalist from Shanghai, at one point remarked that what surprised him most about the United States was the beauty and clarity of the American mind. Mamadou Thior touched on an entirely different aspect of America's allure when he revealed that one highlight of his visit was the swim he took in the Pacific Ocean. He explained that in Senegal everyone swims in the Atlantic Ocean, but north of San Diego he finally got his first taste of the Pacific. I was puzzled by this response and I asked him later if there was anything—temperature, saltiness, conditions of sand or surf—that made a swim in the Pacific distinctly different.

“No, it's not that,” he replied, towering regally over me in his floor-length golden native gown, “You see, in Senegal I watch Baywatch every chance I get. It's a very popular show. Do you know it? And now here I am, swimming in the Pacific.”

“You mean, it's just like being in the show?”

“Yes, that's it.”

Mamadou had earlier reminded us that America is held up as model nation throughout the world, a veritable “city on the hill.” And it doesn't hurt, I guess, if at the bottom of that hill there's a nice sandy beach....

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