The Consuming American Dream

TomPaine.commentary 27jun01

M. W. Guzy is a former police detective and school teacher who now writes a weekly column for the St. Louis Post Dispatch.
Click here to listen to Mr. Guzy's commentary. To download RealPlayer for free, click here.

The automobile is the perfect icon for the American Dream. Nothing better symbolizes the celebration of individual freedom and personal prerogative that is central to this vision. Like the Americans who own them, cars come in all shapes, sizes and colors. And like the Dream itself, they have changed over time.

In 1959, my father purchased a new Chevrolet Biscayne. Motorheads will remember that year's model for its distinctive gull-shaped tail fins. The car was equipped with two optional accessories -- an AM radio and an automatic transmission. The latter indulgence raised some disapproving eyebrows among his in-laws who speculated that a man with small children might want to be a bit more responsible in his spending habits.

Spartan vehicles of this sort have followed their tail fins into the dim recesses of history. Today's stripped-down model comes with an AM/FM radio, air-conditioning, automatic transmission, tinted glass, radial tires, airbags, padded dash and steering wheel. It also comes with a much larger price tag.

As erstwhile luxuries have evolved into necessities, the cost of basic transportation has risen correspondingly. The modern automobile is far superior to its predecessors in terms of performance and safety; however, its sticker price reflects the improvement. Obviously inflation has taken its toll, but somebody's got to pay for all that extra equipment.

The tendency for extravagance to transform itself into need is a central feature of materialism. Twenty years ago, I did not have a VCR, cable TV, a cell phone, a pager or a computer. Today, these are all necessities.

Of course, all these things improve the material standard of existence, but they also cost money, so the price of running a "stripped-down" household continues to escalate.

As my kids now inform me that we need a DVD player and high definition television, new necessities loom on the horizon. Our continuing pursuit of a paradise of things has generated a firestorm of consumption that has transformed the way we live.

U.S. News reports that since 1982, the population has grown about 20 percent, but the time Americans spend in traffic has risen an astounding 236 percent. In the same time period, the combined morning-evening rush hour has doubled to almost six hours daily. Where are all these people going? In large part, to work.

The modern couple routinely holds two or three jobs to service the debt they've incurred trying to keep pace with the standard of living. They pay the price for this lifestyle at places other than the gas pump.

Harvard professor Robert Putman calculates that for every 10 minutes spent commuting, there is a 10 percent decrease in community involvement. Harried employees have converted the family dinner from a daily staple to a special event reserved for holidays. If they can't find time to eat, how can they be expected to participate in civic organizations? And with consumer debt at record levels and the savings rate all but non-existent, the rat race can only accelerate. Our luxuries, it seems, are purchased at the expense of our leisure.

The Scottish psychiatrist and author Ronald David Laing wrote, "We are born into a world where alienation awaits us." The frantic pace of modern existence assures that his augury is realized. Locked in mortal combat with revolving debt, and prodded at every turn to satisfy newly emergent needs, the contemporary adult views himself more as a consumer than a citizen. This perception breeds a disquieting solipsism -- an emphasis on self at the expense of the group. Social maladies ranging from high divorce rates to schoolhouse shootings can trace their roots to this phenomenon.

They don't make cars like my dad's old Chevy anymore because nobody would buy them. Our sophisticated tastes demand more refined gratification. Unfortunately, we all too often pay for our new and improved goods by mortgaging our souls.

My father may not have had a moon-roof, but he did have time to eat with his family and to enjoy a game of chess with his son.

Today, the American Dream has evolved and such simple pleasures have been sacrificed to the blind pursuit of material nirvana. Paradise Lost can be found at the mall, surrounded by acres of well-lit parking. As the malevolent cynic, Lou Cipher, observed in the film Angel Heart, "The future just isn't what it used to be."

This is M. W. Guzy for TomPaine.com.

This commentary was produced by Sharon Basco.

http://www.tompaine.com/opinion/2001/06/27/2.html