Time and time again, US leaders have repeatedly demonstrated that civilians’ safety and long-term well-being are not a priority. We’ve seen it with the pandemic, just as we’ve seen it with mass shootings, and with police brutality. While no country has completely eliminated these threats, many have quickly implemented imperfect solutions to alleviate the damage. New Zealand and South Korea have practically eliminated coronavirus, Japan has successfully curbed gun deaths to single digits annually, and most of Europe has deescalated police violence to miniscule rates. Why can’t we be more like them?
Steven Spielberg’s Jaws has the answer, in the form of Murray Hamilton’s Mayor Vaughn, who’s the perfect cinematic embodiment of the American approach to problem solving and crisis management. At first, Vaughn doesn’t take the threat of shark attacks seriously, and when the death toll increases, he offers a reward to whoever can kill the beast first. Then, when townspeople catch a shark, the mayor declares victory, ignoring a scientist’s warning –– that this shark might not be the culprit, and therefore that this solution isn’t the right one.
Vaughn repeatedly insists that Amity’s Fourth of July festivities cannot be cancelled for two primary reasons: 1) it’s bad for business, and 2) sharks have never been a problem before, so there’s no need to overreact now. When he notices media presence on the beach, he actively encourages people to put their lives in danger by entering shark-infested waters –– all so the news footage will show no signs of alarm. He’d rather risk a PR nightmare tomorrow than ensure unpopularity today. Sound familiar?
Rather than taking comprehensive action to prevent grave consequences, our leaders follow Vaughn’s example, and almost exclusively opt for shortsighted, short-term solutions to set the public at ease –– band-aid solutions to keep many civilians from realizing that their perceived paper cuts are, in fact, mortal wounds. Maybe they’ll close beaches for the weekend, or place more gun-toting police in schools, or promise de-escalation programs in your precinct, and maybe these gestures will make people feel safer for a little while, just as Vaughn employs a minimal security team to patrol the waters. But these measures do very little to actually ensure long-term safety.
Yet we can’t blame all our problems on flawed leadership. Mayors and governors aren’t forcing people to eat in reopened restaurants, or to sit in crowded movie theatres, just as Mayor Vaughn doesn’t force anyone to visit the beach. No, Americans choose to engage in these risky behaviors on their own accord, just like Jaws’ foolhardy beachgoers.
Why can’t the United States, in its leadership and its populace, commit to more comprehensive methods of problem-solving? Again, Jaws displays the harsh reality: American culture is fundamentally selfish, due to a uniquely toxic cocktail of an unwavering commitment to free market capitalism, extensive prioritization of individual liberties, and patriotic traditionalism.
Spielberg, and Jaws writers Peter Benchley and Carl Gottlieb, clearly understand this country’s emphasis on greed, as demonstrated by Vaughn’s unwillingness to sacrifice tourism profits for communal safety. In the last month of inexplicable, unjustifiable reopenings, politicians and businesses have made their priorities abundantly clear: turning a profit is more important than ensuring widespread public safety. But, again, it’s not just the leaders to blame –– Americans are intentionally risking their lives, and the lives of others, by entering unsafe corporate spaces to spend money. Consumerism is so ingrained in American culture that people feel like their entire lifestyles and identities are upended by the temporary inability to shop and eat in restaurants.
Yet consumerism isn’t the only factor at play. After all, beaches are free. Americans can’t stop going to the beach, or consistently wear masks, or stop owning deadly weapons because of one thing: our staunch prioritization of personal liberties. The right to bear arms, the freedom to assemble, the right to practice religion –– they’re outlined in the constitution’s bill of rights, but internalized as an affirmation that people can effectively do whatever they want. These rights and liberties are essential, yes, but they also facilitate a culture of selfishness and individualism that consequently neglects the needs of the many.
Our governmental and cultural systems repeatedly encourage people to prioritize themselves as individuals, rather than consider the implications of our actions for the public at large. Just look at the beach scene in Jaws –– swimmers are so caught up in their own self-interest that when the titular threat emerges, they unwittingly trample children and the elderly. Just like the movies’ swimmers, we see many Americans today prioritizing their individual experiences and interests over the well-being of the people around them.
It’s difficult for Americans to disentangle themselves from these tendencies because of their staunch traditionalism, often disguised as national pride. Whether you like it or not, the United States is a fundamentally conservative country –– not because of the Republican Party’s influence, but because regardless of party preference, most Americans fervently oppose rocking the boat. We’re unwilling to meaningfully rethink systems and traditions because, well, that’s just how they’ve always been. Mayor Vaughn refuses to consider the shark a threat because there’s never been a shark problem before, so why would there be one now?
Similarly, the majority of American mayors, both fictional and real, have proven unwilling to disrupt Fourth of July celebrations, because Independence Day festivities are so hardwired into our cultural identity. And the vast majority of citizens, even those that supposedly support Black Lives Matter, celebrated their country yesterday, demonstrating their inability to shun American traditions, despite repeated calls from Black leaders to reconsider national pride. American individuals would maintain personal comfort by upholding flawed traditions than seek long-term comfort and justice for all of the country’s inhabitants.
At 45 years old, Jaws feels like a pop cultural prophecy. Spielberg’s original blockbuster may have captivated audiences in 1975 with its tight screenplay, impressive visuals, and Oscar-winning editing, but it remains a classic because of its thematic resonance. The movie’s beachgoers, just like today’s restaurant-eaters and partiers, highlight the country’s selfishness, rooted in our preference for money, liberty, and tradition instead of collective safety and long-term flourishing. It’s the ugly side of the United States on full display in vibrant technicolor.
