Upon his return to Ireland after spending two decades in the U.S., my great-grandfather had amassed sufficient wealth to purchase a small enterprise. My grandmother and her siblings were enrolled in private education. If the United States ever symbolized a journey of social advancement, then he successfully integrated it into our family’s narrative.
Accounts similar to his still permeate the mythology of the American Dream. Yet, the trajectory of that story has become progressively more challenging to trace.
For young Americans currently, the narrative presents differently: employment prospects have, for instance, as. Many of my Generation Z counterparts remain jobless—or are trapped in roles that do not necessitate the academic qualifications for which they incurred debt.
The American Dream—the pledge of contentment and financial prosperity achieved through diligent effort—has, certainly, never been universally accessible. When James Trunslow Adams formulated the expression in 1931, he characterized it as a vision available to “every citizen…irrespective of the accidental circumstances of birth or position,” but at any given point in American history, this idealistic concept has persisted merely as such. Nevertheless, belief in it endured. As recently as 2024, a proportion of Americans affirmed their conviction that the dream remained attainable. The belief that one will be an exception means the prevailing system need not undergo transformation.
American ideology has long distinguished the U.S. from its Western counterparts. However, an analysis of the underlying data suggests that this conviction may finally be eroding. In an unspecified year, 17% stated that the American Dream was beyond reach. By another unspecified year, this figure had gradually ascended to 30%. “The justification for the bottom 99% enduring it is that America’s defining strength is optimism,” remarked business professor Scott Galloway on Trevor Noah’s program.
But what transpires when that optimism begins to wane?
Waning Aspirations
Cultural theorist Lauren Berlant commenced addressing this in 2011. In their book (title undisclosed), Berlant articulated how the very object of one’s desire can transform into an impediment to one’s flourishing. This offers a useful perspective for understanding why people cling to the American Dream, even when its traditional markers—a secure occupation, homeownership, family formation, and retirement—have grown more difficult to attain. The more intensely we pursue these objectives, hoping to achieve them, the more this pursuit settles within us as apprehension and, eventually, a sensation of failure. Our inherent optimism—our very Dream—has implicitly allowed for half a century of constrained upward mobility and significant inequality.
No generation experiences this more acutely than Gen Z. More than half voice anxieties about their financial future, an increase from 30% in 2019. Diverse viewpoints exist regarding why this is: some discount Gen Z’s concerns as [a blank], others as [another blank] or a [further blank]. Yet, what Gen Z might actually be communicating to us is the disintegration of the implicit societal covenant of the American Dream.
The conviction that life would improve by traversing the customary milestones has diminished. While preceding generations could secure a house, a family, and financial stability, Generation Z has been compelled to prioritize what appears achievable. “A pervasive feeling of angst exists,” 18-year-old Taran Talbott shares with me. “The typical outlook…is that either one is fortunate enough to possess generational wealth or one’s material well-being is solely contingent on the salary one might eventually earn.” As a cohort, Generation Z possesses a heightened awareness of their economic circumstances. And throughout the [missing context], there’s a perception that the wider system is fractured, and no longer benefits individuals like them.
Generation Z’s Redefined Objectives
America has never contended with a generation unwilling to attribute the Dream’s failure to themselves. Gen Z might be the inaugural group to reject these traditional benchmarks, but they are unlikely to be the last. This schism ought to alarm a nation whose identity rests on the principle that even if one does not succeed, their offspring might—provided sufficient diligence is applied. However, even that expectation is shifting, as the financial apprehension stemming from a less accessible American Dream leads many to postpone or forego having children. This is not to suggest that such a refusal is beneficial; numerous individuals have not forsaken these elements of the American Dream by conscious choice.
This widespread disillusionment carries profound implications for how America perceives itself. Without a collective vision for the future, we risk further weakening our societal bonds. As the American Dream becomes less attainable, we find ourselves in a [state of societal fragmentation], a product of a [culture] where Americans perceive they must solely prioritize their own interests. A variety of [commentators], including the former [official], caution that a [pervasive issue] is devastating communities nationwide.
Generation Z matured within this setting, a cohort with limited [opportunities]—and in each [facet of life]. A new narrative for our future is imperative—one that addresses the genuine causes behind the American Dream’s diminished attainability, without relying on sentimental recollection.
Today’s youth compel us to reconsider the essence of the American Dream, and who it ultimately serves. For an extended duration, our aspirations—and the time invested in pursuing them—have entangled us in recurring cycles of unfulfilled promises. However, Generation Z is declining to participate in this arrangement. And what fate awaits a nation when its foundational myth ceases to hold sway?
