Conspiracy of Affluence
From the point of view of most people, being poor is no fun. While there have been saints and ascetics who have chosen a life of voluntary poverty, the overwhelming majority of people would not if they were given the choice. Poverty is seen not simply as living without a great many of what are perceived as the comforts of life. It is, in the minds of many, degrading and even life-threatening. To not have enough money often means not having enough food, not being able to heat your living quarters in the winter — or perhaps not even having a place to live — and not being able to afford medicine and health care. Who in their right mind would choose that?
For some the simple lack of basic necessities is itself not the full extent of being impoverished. There is also lack of disposable income to provide for certain non-essential amenities, as well as an absence of financial security, which basically translates as having no cushion for future calamities, ill health or old age. The amount of income required above subsistence varies from individual to individual, but for many it boils down to the more you have, the better off you are. For some there is no limit, while others are content with what they consider a reasonable sufficiency. But overall there is a sense that just enough isn’t enough. And this focus on measuring oneself and one’s life according to one’s possessions and assets sets the tone for society, making this aspect of our lives central to our existence and often overshadowing all other considerations.
As a result, many of our decisions about how we live and interact with each other are shaped by this calculus. It compels us not only to measure ourselves but others as well by this standard. Because it has become such a vital form of valuation, we develop an obsession with maximizing our worth, and that means being careful as to how we use our money and how we share it — if we share it at all. With all this thought going into building and maintaining one’s fortune, many people are loathe to admit that there are many things wrong with this attitude. In fact it seems natural and the legitimacy of it self-evident.
When we look at the world around us and see the many things that are wrong, we rarely want to admit that our obsession with our financial state could be somehow related to all those problems. We may read various articles referring to the ways that consumption – and overconsumption – lead to environmental degradation and conflict between regions and nations, but these things are easy to put out of our minds. When we compare the abstraction of world calamities to our immediate concerns, our personal situation naturally appears to be more real and more demanding of our attention than the impersonal litany of troubles we see on the news.
In our drive to acquire more money – or more security as many might see it – we displace other things. We may feel less attached to the people around us and less concerned about our community and region – to the extent that it doesn’t impact property values and reduce the dollar value of our personal assets. The less tangible elements of our lives – simple emotional and social health – may seem secondary in importance behind our material condition. The quality of life itself is thereby determined accordingly by how much we have. I am not the first to make this observation, of course, but it’s important to fully appreciate the implications of this.
By devaluing and ignoring the strong need to bond with others outside the immediate circle of those with whom we have a defined financial relationship, such as our immediate family, we lose an opportunity to share our lives, the benefits of doing so being obscured by the focus we have on our financial status. The traditional reliance that existed between neighbors and friends is largely obviated by a sense that we can — or must – take care of ourselves, first, foremost and almost exclusively. The irony of this is that the less we feel we can rely on others, the more dependent we become on making sure we have enough money to deal with life’s vicissitudes. This, of, course, becomes a self-perpetuating loop that leaves us more and more isolated from each other.
While we are more or less compelled to tend to our personal fortunes, the attitudes generated by this self-absorbed activity creates a general climate in society that embeds this mindset in each of us. The drive to acquire is reinforced through popular culture and political messaging. Those seeking various ways to make a buck find a variety of niche markets and use advertising to promote their products and services. In doing so they often create a sense that whatever is being advertised is something that is somehow essential to our happiness and that overall, our financial status is the basis of our sense of reality. Problems that arise must be fixed with money. Essentially it appears that we can buy our way out of any difficulties we encounter.
In all of this the fiscal health of our personal accounts and of society seem to be what matter most. We hear how important it is to shore up the middle class – to structure the economy in such a way as to maintain a relative affluence for a significant segment of the population. And for those who don’t enjoy that level of income, the desperate hope remains that they might be just a lottery ticket away from prosperity. The societal implications of this are that the entrenched perceptions of the way things work remain resistant to change. Our embrace of this culture of affluence keeps us on a hopeless treadmill of fear and isolation.
Beneath this all is a subliminal consensus that shapes our beliefs and our actions. Our collective efforts are skewed by the conviction that our personal success transcends the notion that we are actually interdependent and cannot act only on our own behalf without harming others – and ourselves. It is a conspiracy of sorts, to maintain a culture of disparity, to ignore the suffering of those who are struggling and to put all of our efforts into propping up these false choices that we feel obliged to make.
Much has been made of the observation that a great deal of the world’s wealth is controlled by an extremely small segment of the population. The “1%”, as they have been called, are identified as pulling the strings of society – of running things while the 99% stand by helplessly. But the truth is that the direction of our society is not really being determined by a tiny minority but by a much larger number whose comfort and complacency leads them to not only fail to challenge the inequities around them but to uphold them through the choices that they make.
I say this not to blame or stigmatize them – or us, really, since I have lived a great deal of my life enjoying a much higher standard of living and privilege than many even though I would not in any way be considered wealthy by most measures. But I feel it’s necessary for those of us who enjoy so many more comforts than so many others to acknowledge this and work towards changing it. We are, in short, co-conspirators, content to leave things as they are for the most part or, if troubled by our consciences, somewhat disinclined to be guided by them to take some sort of meaningful action.
So, what can we do to break free of this conspiracy – to no longer go along to get a greater share than those who don’t have fat bank accounts, well-paying jobs and comfortable retirement plans? Recognition is a start. Understanding that every advantage I have is a disadvantage to another. Foremost I must take a measure of personal responsibility for the suffering I see – I must act without waiting for others to act. We can’t rely on a government that answers to the affluent to truly help those in need – a government run by those who pander largely to the affluent middle and upper classes. There are steps we can take on our own or, better still, with a committed group of others who can together come up with solutions and plans of action.
But there’s something else to be gained by ending this pernicious conspiracy. Even those who appear to be enjoying more material prosperity are themselves trapped in a game that distances them from others – that generates anxiety and depression through the isolation of going it alone. It is a game no one can win. This is difficult to see, of course, since we have been playing by these rules for so long. But for those of us who recognize the damaging effects of economic deprivation – or who live in fear of facing it someday ourselves — it is important that we acknowledge our complicity so that we can make life better for everyone, including ourselves.