Requiem for the dream?
By Rabel Akhund
“THERE was a man that started with the clothes on his back and ended up with diamond mines,” was Willy Loman’s motivational story for his sons Biff and Happy in Arthur Miller’s play Death of a Salesman.
Miller’s play is an acerbic account of the American Dream gone wrong. Here was a mercurial salesman who worked hard all his life on the road and was finally fired by a boss old enough to be his own son. All he was left with were delusions of grandeur, a whole host of missed opportunities and two sons who he wanted to make good all his mistakes and, of course, a supportive wife whose needs he had always neglected.
Ultimately, Willy realised that “after all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive” and he killed himself to give his son the benefit of his life insurance policy so that he could buy the land he wanted.
Of course, Miller himself lived the American Dream for a while when he was with Marilyn Monroe whom he married in 1956 but divorced five years later in 1961. However, what Death of a Salesman brought to American audiences was the realisation of how hollow the American Dream had become and who its greatest victims were.The most memorable visual images of the Great Depression are stock brokers throwing themselves off Wall Street buildings in desperation and the realisation that they had failed. But the real victims of the current financial crisis will not be the bankers or the lawyers of this world; they will be the Willy Lomans of this world. Willy Lomans of this world who cannot get small business loans to keep themselves afloat, Willy Lomans of this world who cannot refinance their home mortgages and face the risk of repossession.
Therefore, it is fair to ask if the current crisis in the financial services industry is a requiem for the American Dream?
Well, it depends. Which American Dream are we talking about?
There is the corrupt version of the American Dream which leads everyone to believe that they can achieve anything that they want, just or unjust. The other version of the American Dream, in its purest incarnation, is attributed to James Truslow Adams. In his 1931 book Epic of America, Adams wrote of the American Dream as “not a dream of motor cars and high wages merely, but a dream of social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognised by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position.”
Such a dream is no bad thing. Such a dream is what we all want. This version of the American Dream was a reaction to the attitudes of the European aristocracy and upper classes of the early twentieth century which most migrants to America, at the time, were fleeing from. Today, this is not just the American Dream but a Universal Dream. It is incumbent upon each of us to make sure that this dream never dies. This is what we are striving for. All of us.
But it is the corrupt version of the American Dream that has mainly been propagated by the media and the advertising industry. All advertising is really advertising for success. Even in the Great Depression, Erwin, Wasey & Company, seeking to turn the wave of public sentiment, took out full-page advertisements in American newspapers in November 1929 that read, “All right, Mister! Now that the headache is over, Let’s Go To Work!” Although such advertisements took on a beleaguered look as the depression set in, they were championed by the titans of the advertising industry. Thus lived on the great American Dream, albeit in its corrupt form.
Towards the end of Death of a Salesman, there is a great line from Happy Loman that epitomises the American Dream. Although he was his father’s favourite, Biff Loman had realised that he wanted to pursue his own goals rather than live his father’s dream. He realised “what a ridiculous lie [his] whole life [had] been”.
It was Happy Loman who, after his father’s death, proclaimed that “I’m gonna show you and everybody else that Willy Loman did not die in vain. He had a good dream. It’s the only dream you can have — to come out number-one man.” The irony is that Willy Loman’s life had been lived in vain. He died an unhappy man, with wasted hopes and dreams, betrayed by the very system that he believed in and gave his whole life to.
So is the current financial crisis the end of the American Dream? Definitely not. To be number one is indeed a quintessential part of the American Dream. And rest assured that for every Willy Loman who falls, there will be a Happy Loman waiting to take over his father’s dream. For such is the power of dreams, American or not.
The writer is an international commercial lawyer.


The rise of English
By Gwynne Dyer
JUST over half of Africa’s 52 countries speak French, but the number is dropping. Last month Rwanda defected, announcing that henceforward only English will be taught in the schools. It would not be overstating the case to say that this caused alarm and despondency in France.
You couldn’t help feeling, either, that Rwanda’s trade and industry minister, Vincent Karega, was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound when he explained why French was being scrapped. “French is spoken only in France, some parts of west Africa, and parts of Canada and Switzerland,” he said. (In parts of Belgium, too, actually, not to mention Haiti, but you get the point.) “English has emerged as a backbone for growth and development not only in the region but around the globe.”
No country cares more passionately for its language than France, and it has waged a long and expensive campaign to guarantee the survival of a French-speaking zone in central and west Africa. It even provided the bulk of the foreign aid for the former Belgian colonies that spoke French: Congo, Rwanda, and Burundi. But the present government of Rwanda has special reasons not to be fond of France.
Getting very close to the regimes in African countries that have French as an official language, even sending troops to protect them from their domestic enemies, has always been part of Paris’s strategy for preserving the status of French as a world language. In Rwanda’s case, that put France in bed with the extremist Hutu-dominated regime that ruled the densely populated country before the genocide, to such an extent that Paris largely paid for the tripling in size of the Rwandan army in 1990-91.
When the Hutu regime began murdering the minority Tutsis in industrial quantities in 1994, France did not abandon it. The French president at the time, Francois Mitterrand, is alleged to have remarked that “in such countries, genocide is not too important...” And a principal reason that France overlooked its Rwandan ally’s ghastly behaviour was that the Tutsi-led opposition in exile mostly spoke English, because its members had found refuge in English-speaking Uganda.
Fourteen years later, more than 95 per cent of Rwanda’s secondary schools still teach mainly in French, although an alternative English instructional programme or intensive English language courses are usually available. Knowledge of both English and French is required for university entrance (and for most government jobs), but the government’s own statistics say that only 3 percent of the population are fluent in English. Nevertheless, the new decision ends the teaching of French in Rwandan schools.
The government defends it as a purely business decision, driven by Rwanda’s membership in the largely English-speaking East African Community (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Rwanda and Burundi), but there is no question that resentment of France also plays a role. This is a country that has already expelled the French ambassador and closed down the French cultural centre, international school and radio station.
But can an African country just switch from one European language to another like that? It can if, like Rwanda, it only uses one language domestically. Almost all Rwandans, whether Hutu or Tutsi, speak Kinyarwanda.
This is far from typical of African countries, most of which have many different ethnic groups, each with its own language. Such countries use the language of the former colonial power as a neutral “national” language, and have such a large investment in teaching it by now that switching is out of the question. The Congo will always use French; Nigeria will always use English; Mozambique will always use Portuguese.
English-speakers often assume that this world role for their language owes something to its huge vocabulary and wonderful literature, or at least to the fact that Hollywood speaks English. Nothing of the sort. The sole reason is that the world’s dominant power for the past two centuries has been English-speaking: Britain in the 19th century, and the United States in the 20th. Timing is everything, and English just happened to be the leading candidate when globalisation created the need for an agreed global second language.
— Copyright Gwynne Dyer


