Most of the time, Americans live together like a colony of clams, growing and feeding by tapping into each other’s resources, with nothing much going on beyond the individual level. The whole grows and flourishes because its members grow and flourish. It’s efficient but purposeless unless you regard growth itself as a purpose – which nearly all Americans do.
Cooperation for a common purpose is about as American as sacrificing virgins to the Corn God: Americans have heard of it, but as something long ago and far away, not something they do themselves. When the force of circumstances does drive Americans to common action, usually it looks like a herd of cattle, either milling about until they calm down, or briefly stampeding. An especially urgent need or clear vision can make Americans form up more like a flock of geese, with a few out front pretending to know where they are going, and everyone else honking to keep the temporary, efficient formation together.
At Midnight on October 29th, Americans were more like a wolf pack in which the alphas had just been shot: yapping, howling, growing, threatening, whimpering for comfort, barking defiance, and now and then, wheeling to maul each other.
