The Roots of Our Consumerism

"Homo Consumens is the man whose main goal is not primarily to own things, but to consume more and more, and thus to compensate for his inner vacuity, passivity, loneliness and anxiety….He mistakes thrill and excitement for joy and happiness and material comfort for aliveness; satisfied greed becomes the meaning of life, striving for it a new religion. The freedom to consume becomes the essence of human freedom."

Erich Fromm. “The Application of Humanist Psychoanalysis to Marx's Theory" in Socialist Humanism: An International Symposium. New York: Doubleday, 1965.

I like to think that I’m totally immune to the lure of consumerism. After all, I’ve spent the past 15 years lecturing students on the importance of voluntary simplicity both as a means to prevent further environmental degradation to our planet, but also as a way to find greater happiness in life.

That latter benefit of reducing consumption is often lost on 20-something-year-olds who have grown up fervently believing that meaning and happiness in life are connected to the ability to buy whatever one wants, whenever one wants, whether one has the funds to do so or not. I’ve found that, even when I show these students hard data from the field of human psychology clearly demonstrating that the “need to always have more” is linked to personal unhappiness and that the happiest people on the planet are actually those who are the most immune to the lure of consumption, they simply don’t buy it (no pun intended).

But at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I am setting a positive example for my students, right? After all, I’m living in a house that is much smaller than I could afford, I drive a 17 year old car (by choice), rarely eat out in restaurants, and generally wear clothes till they fall apart (literally!). On the surface of things, I am the poster boy for the voluntary simplicity movement.

And yet, deep in the marrow of my being, I am as easily seduced by the lure of American consumerism as the most fashion-conscious student in my environmental ethics class. Just recently, for example, I found myself wanting to replace the perfectly adequate cell-phone that I had been using for about four years with a smart new Iphone. The new phone cost hundreds of dollars more than the old phone did and that new plan that I had to take out to get it was also more expensive, but at least I could now say that I had the smartest, most sophisticated, most stylish cell phone on the market. And I was ever so happy—that is, until I saw a colleague of mine with the new Iphone 4s with even cooler features than the model I had. And then I found myself becoming envious and thinking that my own Iphone just didn’t seem quite as special any more.

Then there’s the issue of my car. I am adamant about the fact that I will not buy a new car until the one I have—a 1995 Toyota Corolla—starts to become unreliable or cost more to maintain than it is worth. 17 years later, I still have the same car, and it is still chugging along perfectly fine. There are absolutely no mechanical issues with the car, but it certainly doesn’t provide as smooth and quiet a ride as a new car would, and lately, the paint on the roof of the car has begun to wear off, making the car look rather shabby. In fact, I’ve been told that I have the ugliest car on campus, and that’s probably true: I doubt that even the most cash-strapped freshman would ever be caught dead driving a car as aesthetically challenged as mine. 

Now, when someone asks me about my car, I tell them proudly that I’ll be damned if I ever get suckered into buying a new car before I absolutely need one. But, in fact, I’m starting to feel just a little self-conscious about being seen driving a car like mine or parking it at the Mall amidst all the shiny new SUVs that people on Long Island tend to own. And this year, I’ve even begun fantasizing about getting a new car—not anything excessive mind you, but something small, cute, and fun like a Honda Fit. Every time I see someone driving one of these cars, I almost automatically think to myself: “Why should they get to drive a nice new car, while I am forced to drive this piece of crap! “After all,” I reason to myself, “I am a college professor and do have a reputation to maintain.”

So you see, although I would like to believe that I am impervious to the insatiable desire for more than I need, this really isn’t the case. I am as much a part of the species homo consumens as anyone. The only difference is that I’ve read enough to know what the root causes of our consumerist desires are. I think that these causes are threefold:

1) Contemporary Americans have come to identify who they are as human beings with what they own. The more trendy things I own, then, the more worthy I am as a human being. Conversely, if I live in a modest house, don’t wear the latest clothes, and don’t drive a nice car, then something is wrong with ME as a human being. In 21st century America we are judged, not by the “content of our characters,” but by the stuff we possess.

2) We have been convinced by modern advertising that we should have as much as our neighbors do. In the past, however, our neighbors could only afford to buy things if they saved for them. But the advent of the credit industry means that ordinary people can buy things they don’t have the actually money for. We don’t know, for example, that our neighbors really can’t afford to live in the McMansion that they recently built or drive their new Lexus, but we think they can, and that makes us feel inferior. So we too are compelled to take out loans and live well beyond our means, just to “keep up with the Jonses.” 

3) In the absence of authentic religious belief, Americans have made a religion out of consumption. If we really believed in God and were convinced that this life is not all that there is, having so much stuff wouldn’t mean quite as much to us. After all, how could owning even the most sophisticated things in the world—fancy jewelry, designer clothes, etc.—ever compare with what we have to look forward to in the next life? Objectively, then, if Americans really believe in anything, it is that salvation comes from buying power—the ability to satisfy our insatiable desires with more and more stuff. God is dead, but at least we have Walmart—or Neiman Marcus, if you prefer—to provide us with ultimate meaning in life.

These are just a few thoughts that came to me as I reflected on the roots of our consumerism in the United States. I’d love to hear what you think about this. Is the problem of consumerism really as bad as I think it is (do you personally fall victim to it?)? And what do you think that the ultimate root of this need to always acquire more and more is?   

A New Kind of Corporate Model

I hate Black Friday. I hate how it turns our holiday season into an excuse for conspicuous consumption. I hate the kind of people who would spend all night hanging out at some stupid mall in the hopes of getting a sale on some idiotic item that they probably didn't need anyway. But most of all I hate what the consumeristic mindset represented by this day has done to our planet--a planet, basically, that we are destroying in our never-ending lust to acquire more and more stuff.

That's why I was so delighted to wake up this morning and find this ad from Patagonia staring me right in the face.

Patagonia, in case you don't know, is a fairly high-end American outdoorsy clothing store, that probably has been doing fairly well during the recent economic crisis, because its clothing items appeal to the kinds of affluent individuals who can easily afford to buy them. They didn't need to run this ad, but they did it anyway, and, for that, I think they deserve no small amount of credit.

The "Don't Buy This Jacket" ad is part of Patagonia's Common Threads Initiative that encourages consumers not to buy things they don't need, to keep the items they buy for as long as possible, to repair them when they are are broken, and to recycle items that are hopelessly worn out, rather than just throwing them out.

Why is Patagonia going through all this bother when a campaign like this probably won't increase their sales in the short-term significantly? I'm going to give the company the benefit of the doubt and assume that, unlike at most American companies, the people who run Patagonia actually give a damn about the future of the planet. Maybe they have children or grandchildren and don't like the idea of bequeathing them a planet that will be much less hospitable than the one we are already inhabiting.

I'd also like to think that maybe Patagonia is on to something that other American and multinational companies just don't get--namely, that the pursuit of short-term profits at all costs is not a sustainable business model. In a time when many people, including those who make a decent living, can no longer afford to squander their resources on crap they really don't need, it may be time for companies to start producing items that are so well-made that they can be used year-in and year-out without replacement, and to charge prices that reflect the high-quality of this craftsmanship.

Ultimately, this sort of business model would be good for the consumer (less money spent over the long-haul), good for businesses (they still would make a decent profit from selling fewer items at a higher cost), and good for the planet (less crap in our landfills).

Of course, a consumption tax would also have the same benefits, but without insuring that the items produced would ultimately be of a high quality. Besides, no one in government today has balls to propose anything even remotely like a consumption tax. So until we have a third party that actually is beholden to the interests of the American public, we need to speak as consumers with every purchase that we make, rewarding businesses like Patagonia that try to do the right thing for the planet and punishing those that don't.

I don't need to buy a winter coat any time soon: the two I have are about 10 years old and doing just fine, thank you. But when I finally break down and decide to buy a new coat, you can be well-assured that I will check out what Patagonia has to offer...specifically because of this campaign.

Perhaps you should consider doing the same.

A Sign of the Times

.....As Mike correctly pointed out in a previous post, all signs indicate that the consumption level of Americans is being reduced in the face of economic uncertainty. This clearly is welcomed news, considering that we Americans previously had the lowest rate of savings and highest consumption rate in the developed world.

.....I recently paid a visit to my local butcher, and asked if the recession was hurting his business at all. He said that, on the contrary, our rotten economy has actually been helpful to him. As he put it, "Instead of people going out to dinner and spending $100 on steak, they have been coming to me, and for $20 they can get two of the best steaks we have."

.....I use this steak example with no offense intended towards my vegan friends. We all agree that it would be preferable if Americans also simplified their meal choices to include more plant-based foods. But the fact remains that many Americans are choosing to forgo fancy restaurants and buying items they don't really need, because their values are beginning to change as they confront the reality of economic uncertainty.

.....A cultural shift may very well be occurring in which people begin to embrace - or at least are more open to - the ideals of movements like Voluntary Simplicity, Sustainable Economics, and Smart Growth. Yes, there will always be people who choose to drive gas-guzzling vehicles and to live excessive lifestyles, but hopefully, such individuals will become the exception rather than the norm in our society.

American Dream, American Myth

Most of us have grown up with the belief that success in life is to be measured almost entirely in economic terms. Whether we have “made it” or not in life all depends upon factors like how large our home is, what sort of elaborate stuff we possess, and how many exotic vacations we can take in a given year. We have also been taught, directly or indirectly, that the greater our buying power, the more worth we have as human beings. Those who cannot—or will not—strive to become masters of capital are perceived as somehow morally deficient and missing out on what has come to be optimistically known as the “American Dream.” In fact, this dream is nothing more than a myth perpetuated by corporate-owned media to encourage the sort of excessive consumption that has driven the American economy to the point of inevitable collapse.

During the past few years, I have taken several trips to Southern Florida to visit family members living in Fort Lauderdale. Only two years ago, I remember being amazed at how opulent the lifestyle was in places like Palm Beach, Boca Raton, and Ft. Lauderdale, even compared to the excesses of my native Long Island. Skyrocketing real estate prices had encouraged speculation in the housing market, and middle class entrepreneurs were buying up all the homes that they could get their hands on in order to capitalize on what seemed to be a golden ticket to easy riches. Expensive restaurants were filled to capacity, high-end stores in mammoth shopping malls were doing record business, and sales of luxury items like yachts and sporty convertibles (a must for men going through mid-life crises) were booming.

The situation changed dramatically when I returned for this year’s visit. For one thing, due to the inevitable housing crisis housing, prices have plummeted 15-20% and sales of existing homes have dropped 28%. Visiting a colleague in Boca Raton—one of the great meccas of conspicuous consumption in the United States—I was shocked to see foreclosure signs all over the city and million dollar homes sitting vacant with no one to buy them. The situation for middle class homeowners in Florida is even more precarious, since their consumption over the past three decades has been even more inextricably intertwined with the equity in their homes. In a Sun-Sentinel poll conducted on April 4th, one-third of respondents in Broward County, where the poll was conducted, reported being afraid of losing their jobs in the current economic downturn. In short, things are not looking good for the overall health of the economy of southern Florida.

Given all this, one would assume that people--like my dear extravagant sister living in Fort Lauderdale--would begin to dramatically decrease their levels of consumption and try to live a bit more frugally—at least until this current economic storm passes. If this is happening, I have not noticed it. The high priced malls in Boca and Fort Lauderdale seem to be as full of shoppers as ever, the waiting times to get into decent restaurants doesn’t seem to have diminished at all, and the lines for $5.00 frappuccinos at Starbucks hasn’t seemed to have gotten any shorter.

All this “data” is anecdotal, of course, but it is not at all dissimilar from what I have observed elsewhere. The economy is tanking, but Americans seem incapable of doing the logical and prudent thing, which would be to cut back—perhaps dramatically—on their bloated lifestyles. As mentioned earlier, the explanation for this paradox is quite simple: the identities of most Americans are so wrapped up with their ability to consume that any attempt to reduce consumption would create a massive sense of identity-loss (If we are not the stuff that we possess, then who or what are we?).

The corporate-owned media, of course, would like to maintain this link between human identity and consumption, so everything we see on television or in the movies, or read in our daily newspapers and magazines, reinforces the idea that happiness can only be attained by buying into the materialistic lifestyle that has come to dominate American culture. But we really shouldn’t cast all the blame on greedy corporations and their media stooges. The real fault lies primarily in us. We are the ones who refuse to recognize that happiness can’t come from owning a $300 pair of sunglasses or a $500 pocketbook. Until we start to accept this ridiculously simple fact, and to change our lives accordingly, we will continue to be consumed by the very items which we ourselves so lasciviously consume.

The Gospel of Consumption

In the New York Times (3/11/08) Bob Herbert reports that, out of a total population of 300 million, 37 million Americans live in poverty. An additional 60 million are just above the poverty line, living with household incomes that range from $20,000-$40,000 annually for a family of four. In the current economic crisis in which we find ourselves, these are the people who are going to suffer most from the rising prices of oil and food, the plummeting housing market, and the decline in jobs that pay a minimum wage.

Of course, the middle class in the United States—those making less than $200,000 a year—are not much less vulnerable during an economic downturn like this one. Many of these Americans, buying into the consumptive mentality that drives our society, have taken on an enormous amount of debt since the 1970s, have virtually no savings, and have seen the equity in their homes plummet like a middle-aged man’s saggy midsection.

Since 70 % of the American economy is consumption driven, the prophets of mass consumerism—led by its head cheerleader, George Bush—have told us time and again to do our patriotic duty and spend, spend, spend. In the past, Americans have duly submitted to this philosophy using easily attainable credit to buy tons of stuff they really didn’t need.

But now the hens have come home to roost. Personal and national debt is the highest it has been since World War II and banks are tightening up on the loans they make. Furthermore, unemployment levels have been increasing and middle class wages have been fairly stagnant at the same time that inflation seems to be on rise. And yet, despite all this Americans continue to drive themselves further into debt through their endless consumption.

The solution to our economic crisis is not to consume more, but to consume less. To live simpler, more ecologically sustainable lives. Americans would certainly benefit if they adopted some of the basic principles of the voluntary simplicity movement...most notably the recognition that human happiness can not be attained through ever-increasing levels of consumption

Of course, if we suddenly stop our mindless consumption, this will make Wall Street and the White House extremely unhappy. But that’s their problem. The job of each individual during an economic meltdown, such as the one that is inevitably coming, is to get his or her own house in order by reducing consumption and increasing savings.

Fortunately, the Voluntary Simplicity movement has a number of web sites available to help overspent and overworked Americans live simpler and more fiscally responsible lives. Here are two of the most popular of these sites:

The Simple Living Network
The Simplicity Resource Guide