The Consumption Paradox

Brian,

I’ve taken my time responding to your post, not (entirely) because I am lazy, but also because it addressed several issues that are dear to the hearts of many a nutjob-commie-traitor. In this post, I would like to specifically address the role of consumption in the American psyche, even though it veers away from campaign finance and Democratic politics in general. Perhaps by the end of the post I’ll have taken a meandering path back to our original topic.

Our country’s consumption addiction is insidious precisely because it goes largely unnoticed by most caught up in the cycle of “buying this = better me.” Sure, if you ask most harried, endebted people, they would freely tell you that their lives are insane. Those lucky enough to have employment will complain they work too much, shop too much, spend to much, don’t eat right and sleep too little. But there seems to be a special kind of tolerance for this flurry of activity. This does not, necessarily, need to be productive activity–rather, the appearance that one is busy, and therefore important or at least working to ensure prosperity and security, is all that matters.

The picture of the middle-class, hamster-wheel American I’ve painted above is pretty much cliche at this point, and there are many exceptions to the stereotype. For one thing, widespread unemployment has created a class of people who wish they were scrambling to keep up with their credit card payments, instead of outright defaulting or wondering where they will live after foreclosure. Even those lucky enough to keep their jobs have seen hours cut, or been frightened into soul searching by watching their co-workers and friends get laid off.

Then there is another class, far more common and far less visible: Americans who were somewhat poor before the economic downturn and who are even poorer now. I’m going from my gut and anecdotal evidence here, so bear with me. These are the folks who were working relatively low-paying, non-union service jobs: your servers and bartenders, Sprint representatives, Abercrombie store clerks, etc. When the economy was better, they were doing OK. Not well, mind you, but OK. They didn’t have health insurance, or pensions, or college degrees; but the heavenly flow of prosperity did tricklith down upon them. Consumers were buying, and therefore they had plenty of hours, sales commissions and tips to live off of. The toys that they’d been taught to sell by their employers, they bought themselves at an employee discount. They purchased the rest with cheap credit.

I like to think of this as the service industry paradox: you’re alive and well, working, buying cool-looking stuff, enjoying weekends out at the club — of course, this kind of satisfaction is utterly superficial and always teetering on the brink of disaster. If you’re out of work even temporarily, or get sick, or fall behind for whatever reason, good luck digging yourself back out. But, you might as well charge the cheap fun while you can because you can’t remotely afford lasting stability.

And this is where we’re at now as a country, In My Humble Opinion: We’ve got to suck it up and make those big, boring investments in our future if we’re going to get anywhere. There’s been much talk of Americans starting to buckle down and save, of our gradual shift away from a conspicuous-consumption economy. I’ll believe it when I see it. We’re a nation addicted to buying toys because, for a long time now, that’s all most of us could afford. Americans have been taught to fear European-style socialism precisely because that type of economy puts the emphasis back on what matters, and what costs: health care, child care, housing, education.

The widespread fear of socialism is reflexive and irrational. Mainly, people don’t realize what it means; I think if they did, a vast majority would be clamoring for, say, the life of an ordinary Dutchman. And that’s what’s saddest about our current domestic situation. Americans live such precarious lives, and have been taught to call it freedom, that they don’t feel they or anyone else deserves a safety net. Perhaps they can’t even envision such a luxury. What we have here is a failure of imagination.

Be Sociable, Share!

•