https://spectatorworld.com/topic/two-americas-california-florida-desantis-newsom/
What is America? The answer to that simple question can get you into a lot of trouble. Or it can propel you to the Oval Office.
You can try to run away from the question with adverbs. “Well, historically, America was the name a European mapmaker slapped on the unexplored continents across the Atlantic.” Maybe Amerigo Vespucci, that mapmaker, had Florida in mind, though Vespucci would have struggled to imagine a future figure such as the forty-sixth governor of the state, Ron DeSantis.
Or, “Linguistically, America is an abbreviated form of the United States of America, a political union that traces itself to a local rebellion of thirteen British colonies in the eighteenth century, which grew into territorially aggressive entity.” Eventually these practitioners of settler colonialism found their way to the western extremity of the continent, revolted against Mexican rule and founded the California Republic, which was soon subsumed into the United States where it became the personal vineyard of the entrepreneur and founder of PlumpJack wine store, Gavin Newsom.
Other adverbs come to mind. What is America politically, culturally, geographically, musically, economically, militarily? It is an open book exam. But don’t forget the Articles of Confederation, Gilligan’s Island, and Afghanistan.
Putting on my anthropologist hat, I’d point out that the measure of any society is what divides it — and a culture consists of the most meaningful disagreements among people who have to pay attention to one another. To take a famous literary example, when Jonathan Swift’s intrepid explorer Gulliver washes up on the island of Lilliput, he finds the inhabitants committed to the practice of breaking their eggs on the little end. Yards away lies the island of Blefuscu, similar in every respect to Lilliput except that Blefuscian tradition decrees that eggs should be broken on the big end. War between Big Enders and Little Enders has persisted for generations. To outsiders like Gulliver — and presumably Swift — these poignant differences seem trivial. But that’s bad anthropology. The perpetual war over which end an egg should be cracked first is vital to the lives of these islanders.