By chance, I stumbled upon two reviews of Uneasy Street: The Anxieties of Affluence by Rachel Sherman, an anthology of thoughts from wealthy people the sociologist-author interviewed. * In their reviews (I did not read Sherman’s book), both Amir Goldberg and Drake Bennett report a couple of her findings: 1) That the wealthy she interviewed “distinguish themselves from the undeserving, ‘lazy’ rich by portraying their lifestyles as productive,” 2) That the wealthy often seem uncomfortable with their wealth in an age of wealth disparity (What age isn’t?), and 3) That they consider the very process of deciding to spend or not—to consume ostentatiously—to be a moral justification for spending on private schools and expensive dwellings with expensive furnishings.
Apparently, some of the rich are self-conflicted by their economic status. In what appears to be an admission of what I call “self-reconciliation,” one of the interviewees says to Sherman, “I was gonna be a revolutionary, and then I had that first massage.” The inner conflict really gives way to an eventual capitulation and justification: “I worked to get what I have.”
So, what about you? Are you guilty about your wealth? Rather proud of it? What? You don’t consider yourself to be wealthy? But isn’t wealth a relative thing? “Not for Bill Gates,” you say. “That’s absolute wealth. Same with that other Warren guy, the one with the last name like a smorgasboard. Those guys, the Amazon guy, and some others have wealth even Midas would envy.”
But wealth is relative, even though there are economists who distinguish among the poor, the lower, middle, and upper middle classes, the lower wealthy, middle wealthy, and more-money-than-most-countries-have wealthy. Those demarcations of economic divisions change all the time, don’t they? You’ve seen the economically challenged wearing $150 running shoes as they stand in line to buy an $800 IPhone at the Apple Store.
So, when you look around at what you have, do you need to consume more?
Take electronics, for example. Can you name all the electronic devices you have plus all the batteries and wires and chargers and holders and covers and contracts and warranties, and stuff? Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t see a television until I was about 8 or 9 years old or that there are people in Third World countries who have never seen one, let alone own one? Out of curiosity, I want you to count the number of radios you own—alarm clock radio, kitchen radio, IHeart radio, SiriusXM radio, car radio, shower radio, old transistor radio, antique radio, table radio. And don’t get me started on the computer stuff. I know what’s on your desk, lying unused in your closet or drawer, or even in the basement.
Anyway, the point is that to someone who doesn’t have what you have, you are rich. But you won’t take that as a consolation for your perceived poverty, will you? After all, there are all those “rich people” living lives of luxury you can only imagine: People eating caviar on private planes headed to exotic lands and five-star resorts; people who don’t live from check-to-check or who have to buy a Chevy instead of a Lamborghini.
Now, I’m beginning to feel both sorry and guilty. Sorry for what I don’t have and guilty about what I do have. What’s wrong with me? And if I were to become inordinately wealthy, would I pretend dissatisfaction with my status? Would I downplay my newfound wealth? Would I disdain ostentatiousness of any kind, reluctantly travel first class, and stay in an ordinary suite instead of the Presidential Suite? Order the house wine? Shop at Walmart? Cut my own grass?
Are you one of those who complain about “rich people”? Look around. There are those that might think that you, relative to them, are “one of those people.”
In his review of Sherman’s book, Amir Goldberg writes, “…Sherman’s interviewees depict their consumption choices as prudent, frugal, and reasonable…[and] their choice not to publicize their economic means is what makes them morally worthy of having them” (312). That makes me think of an interview I once saw in which Warren Buffett said he still drove himself around Omaha in an aging car (Buick, I think) and lived in the same house he always occupied. I have a feeling that many people “of means” fear they might be perceived of as another Great Gatsby.
Just remember that when you hear people say that the wealthy should give away some of their wealth, you can ask them whether or not they will be willing to give away some of their wealth to those who are less fortunate. You already know the response you’ll get, but elicit a response anyway.
I’ll leave you with a short anecdote. As I drove from Guatemala City to Antigua Guatemala and the volcanic hills beyond, I passed a woman carrying firewood on her head. I also passed tin-roofed huts made of branches stuck in the ground, huts with dirt floors and spaces between the sticks making up the walls, huts without running water or electricity. Back in the United States after that experience, I was a bit embarrassed by what I had accumulated. And then I turned on the flat screen TV to watch a football game and forgot about Guatemala for a while.
*Goldberg, Amir. Book Review. American Journal of Sociology, Volume 125, Number 1, July 2019.
Bennett, Drake. Poor Little Rich Folks. Bloomberg, September 21, 2017.
Sherman, Rachel. (2017) Uneasy Street: the Anxieties of Affluence. Princeton University Press.