Living in a Material World

Over the past two months, much ado has been made over a New York Times/CBS poll claiming Americans are doing more and buying less. The poll echoes conventional wisdom: The recession is rapidly resetting American values. In the past two years we’ve become thriftier, more social, and less materialistic. We are, to quote one particularly overeager writer at Time magazine, “seeing the rise of the citizen consumer—and the beginnings of a responsibility revolution.”

This is a feel-good story, a silver lining in our economic cloud. I’d love to believe it.  But in all likelihood, the heart-warming fable is just that and nothing more. Thrift is the new black; frugality is merely en vogue.

Old habits die slowly, and American consumerism is more than just a habit. Although we’re certainly purchasing fewer luxury items, this is mostly likely not due to a sudden moral transformation. Consumerism is deeply etched in our national identity. Despite the severity of the recession, it will take much more pressure before Americans abandon the kid-in-the-candy store culture that has defined public life over the past three decades.

Last fall, James Surowiecki, a financial columnist at the New Yorker, argued that although personal spending is down and national savings are up, this is almost entirely attributable to the fact that most Americans simply have less money to spend. Much of the decrease in spending fits into two predictable categories: gas and cars. A similar phenomenon, Surowiecki notes, occurred in 1991-1992—right after “Fortune” prematurely hailed the “death of conspicuous consumption.” Since Surowiecki penned his column, non-automobile retail sales shot back up in January.

Americans are surely spending less than we did two years ago. But there’s no evidence this trend will last longer than the recession itself. Although the NYT/CBS poll produced some insightful findings, it’s likely it suffered from a common flaw: response bias. Americans in lower income brackets may very well be truthfully reporting spending habits—they have little to spend. Wealthier Americans, however, may only be making their consumption less conspicuous. According to a recent study by the Hartman Group, “The Theatrics of Thrift,” upper-class Americans’ commitment to frugality is likely symbolic at best. In most circles, it’s not socially acceptable to claim you’re not cutting back during a recession. While the rich might not be buying BMWs, their “life experiences” still cost money. Taking the family to Bermuda still isn’t cheap.

Although the pollsters at NYT/CBS claim their findings span all income brackets, this hardly seems plausible. While the wealthy make the required gestures, middle and lower-income Americans have little disposable income because they’re struggling with day-to-day expenses. Wages have not increased for the average American in years, and the costs of healthcare, energy, rent, home ownership, and food are rising. The average household budget hasn’t suffered primarily from the purchase of a new SUV or big screen TV. Although consumers of all income levels have certainly conflated necessities with luxuries, lower and middle-income households have been spending less chiefly because they can’t control the spiraling costs of American life.

Our history has shown that Americans have a strange relationship with frugality and consumerism. On the one hand, American culture has inherited a Puritan sense of thrift. On the other, we show our efficacy by purchasing goods to furnish our private domains. On one hand, wasteful spending is a vice, a worldly self-indulgence our grandparents warned us about. On the other, ownership of things is the well-deserved fruit of labor. Consumer society appeals to both high and low American values.

It’s often asserted that our current generation is more hedonistic than those of the past. In some respects this is most likely true, but it’s only half the story. Americans don’t partake in consumer society merely because if delivers material goods, but also because it satisfies our social aspirations.  The things we buy are meant to give us a sense of autonomy, dignity, and respect. Consumerism tends to alienate us from each other. Yet we often seek, and occasionally achieve, meaning from it. It both threatens and sustains our national identity.

This tension isn’t likely to disappear as quickly as some would like. The talking heads underestimate the extent to which the invisible hand has a tight grip not only on our wallets, but on our moral sentiments.  Still, it will be interesting to see if Americans return to their shopping spree habits in the coming years. Consumer spending accounts for 70 percent of our GDP and most economists say that in the long run our recovery depends on just such a return. A true end to consumerism will depend on a restructuring of our economy, and ultimately, a social movement.

Raúl A. Carillo ’10 is a social studies concentrator in Lowell House. His column appears on alternate Fridays.