E Pluribus Unum
Out of many, one.
E pluribus unum was the de facto motto of the United States from its earliest beginning. The thirteen-letter phrase is included on the Great Seal, reflecting the concept that from the union of the original thirteen colonies emerged a new single nation.[1] Although the motto still appears on the Great Seal as well as on all coins currently in production, “In God We Trust” became the country’s official motto in 1956, a political Cold War response to the state-sponsored atheism of the Soviet Union.[2]
At once inspirational and aspirational, “out of many, one” signifies not only the unification of the colonies but also the shared sacrifices, common goals, and idealism of the new country and its people. This motto is a declaration that we would be greater than the sum of our parts; our unique diversity — ignited by liberty — would be our strength. How do we live up to this promise?
With few exceptions, our culture has become so fractured and fragmented over the past 50 years that we have lost our connection to many of the experiences that used to unite us. The evening news, NFL Football, and even Thanksgiving, some of our great secular institutions, have all come under assault from politicization and identity politics.
The causes of the erosion of the ties that bind us as Americans are manifold, but an interesting effect is evident in our media consumption. In 1970, Marcus Welby, MD, and Gunsmoke were among the top-rated shows on network television, consistently garnering Nielson ratings in the 30s. By 1990, however, top shows Cosby and Roseanne were only achieving ratings in the low-20s. This trend continued with shows like Friends (12.6) in 2000; American Idol (14.5) in 2010; and The Bachelor (12.0) this past season.[3]
NFL Football largely resisted these forces, growing its audience over this same period. But from 2015 to 2017, its numbers dipped over 15%, although they have begun to recover in the past two years.[4] While it’s easy to see the conversation around racial equity playing a role, the explanation for the decline will depend upon one’s views of President Trump and Colin Kaepernick. Trump’s supporters will likely credit his call for a boycott of the NFL, while liberals might point to the NFL’s lack of support for the league’s Black players.
I would suggest another possibility. Perhaps it’s the polarization itself that has diminished fans’ enjoyment of this weekly ritual and caused the decline in viewership. Maybe, despite all the rage and fury that appear to be targeted at “the other side,” many people don’t like this division in our society and don’t want to see it infiltrate every aspect of American life. This emphasis on our differences over our shared experiences is corrosive and antithetical to our earliest aspirations as a nation. Out of many, one.
If we want life to be different, where do we start? Recently, The New York Times published a series of proposals from leaders and thinkers to meet this moment in our history.[5] Most focused on legislative responses to gun safety, racial equity, mental health, and the like. But one idea, from Heidi J. Larson, professor of anthropology at the University of London and University of Washington, encouraged readers to listen to the people you disagree with the most. She approached this from the perspective of the vaccine divide, specifically, but I took her broader point to be that empathy is at the core of any solution for our most pressing problems. And empathy begins with one person, one conversation at a time.
Fundamentally, empathy is the desire and the ability to put oneself in another’s shoes, understanding that each person’s past experiences and their particular circumstances influence the decisions they make and the opinions they hold. The challenge, clearly, is that we can’t always know the totality of another’s life experience and context.
I was thinking about this as I read Natasha Trethewey’s searing memoir, Memorial Drive.[6] Natasha, a former US poet laureate and Pulitzer Prize winner, and I attended the same large public high school in Stone Mountain, Georgia. I’m sure she didn’t know me, but I knew of her. She was a popular cheerleader at our football-crazy school. She was pretty and smart, just one grade below me. What I couldn’t have known, however, was the torment she endured at home and tried to hide from her classmates, that her former step-father went to prison for assaulting her mother, and that he would eventually follow through on his threats to kill Natasha’s mother just a year after Natasha would graduate from high school.
What I might have surmised, however, was the depth of difficulties she faced as a biracial child growing up in the literal shadow of the world’s largest shrine to the Confederacy, a sacred site to members of the Ku Klux Klan. But as a white boy, growing up in a home where the N-word was used, I couldn’t — or just didn’t — imagine how difficult the life of this popular, perfectly pony-tailed girl might have been. In retrospect, I saw our differences without ever realizing what we might have had in common — that we both lived with volatile father figures we feared, that we both felt relief coming home to an empty house, that we both wondered about our biological bonds with our brothers, that we both wanted to escape.
I’m reluctant to draw too many parallels between our lives, but her story resonated with me. We clearly shared certain fears and insecurities that connected us as fellow humans. Out of many, one.
Our founders and all those who fought to establish this great country, as well as those who fought to preserve the Union a hundred years later, understood the value of our diversity but also recognized the importance and strength of our shared purpose. Out of many, one. It’s more important than ever for each of us to assume some responsibility to listen to each other, to respect each other, to practice empathy. We have so much work to do to improve our prospects for a safer, healthier, more prosperous future, but, if the last four years have shown us anything, it’s that fanning the flames of hatred with name-calling, derision, and disrespect isn’t the path forward.
[1] The Great Seal of the United States, U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Public Affairs, p. 6. https://2009-2017.state.gov/documents/organization/27807.pdf
[2] Merriman, Scott A. Religion and the Law in America: An Encyclopedia of Personal Belief and Public Policy. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2007.
[3] Nielson Media Research
[4] https://dawgonnit.com/2020/09/16/nfl-ratings-a-bit-of-history/
[5] Andrew Ross Sorkin, Jason Karaian, Michale J. de la Merced, Lauren Hirsch, and Ephrat Livni, Some Ideas for Fixing America, The New York Times, December 4, 2020.
[6] Trethewey, N. (2020) Memorial Drive: A Daughter’s Memoir. Ecco.
