‘Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther...’ (F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1925)

To Fitzgerald’s Jazz Age hero, the American Dream manifested itself as a green light. Jay Gatsby yearns for his long-lost love from the front garden of his mansion, a member of the 1920s’ ‘New Rich’.  He symbolises the aspirations of a nation driven by the ideal that all good men and women could make a future for themselves.

And yet, the green light of the American Dream has dimmed. Its central tenets – social mobility and the universal pursuit of happiness – are now hanging from a thread. If anything, the exceptionalism expounded by the largely hollow political rhetoric used in the ‘land of the free’ acts to harm Americans.

The liberal and often libertarian attitudes traditionally associated with US citizens have created a political culture defined by the concepts of social mobility and meritocracy. These are, to some extent, paradoxical. A self-perpetuating aristocracy which can afford a superior education for its children has entrenched class divides. Indeed, a study cited by The Economist has suggested that the gap in test scores between the country’s richest and poorest 10% has risen by over 30% over the past twenty five years.

This might be a consequence of ineffective affirmative action schemes whose focus is determined by race rather than social background and poverty. However, the broader political opposition to state intervention and affirmative action is the root cause of the problem. If Americans truly wish to realise their vision of freedom and equality, they must become more open to the proliferation of welfare schemes for underprivileged communities and races. Some might go as far as to argue that entrenched class divides can only be broken by significant wealth redistribution – but those voices are certain to be shouted down within the American political sphere.

Ethnic and cultural divides have their part to play in entrenching a ‘dream’ which is only accessible to favoured groups within society. It is interesting to note that the other most famous use of this concept came from one Martin Luther King Jr. And yet, as the 50th anniversary of his iconic speech approaches, 51% of Americans are said to hold anti-black attitudes; a significant majority of Hispanic and black groups have never voted Republican; and even the President is victimised by requests for his birth certificate. These minorities face discrimination which holds them back in the workplace and beyond. And the problem applies to other groups in the US: women are still paid 20% less than their male counterparts, on average.

The most significant problem with the American Dream, however, is the rhetoric which surrounds it. ‘American Exceptionalism’, as it has come to be known, is politically restrictive. When campaigns are peppered with the tagline that America is the ‘greatest country in the world’; and when citizens so frequently sing about ‘the land of the free and the home of the brave’, breaking from the liberal norm becomes revolutionary. Michelle Obama was blasted for saying that her husband’s 2008 campaign had made her proud of America ‘for the first time’; Mitt Romney criticised the President for suggesting that American exceptionalism is an attitude no different to British or Greek exceptionalism.

The fact that debate must be framed within this context means that measures towards welfare or wealth redistribution are unlikely to gather support. Indeed, the language of American greatness might imply that little needs to change and ‘freedoms’ must be respected – an argument for the opposition to ‘un-American’ gun laws or state medical provision.

The release of The Great Gatsby this Friday might be a chance for Americans to celebrate their history and aspirations. However, the green light of the American Dream is slowly fading; it can only be re-energised by a united people that is willing to accept change.