Consumerism—What’s Really Consuming Us?

“We've got a sort of brainwashing going on in our country,” says Morrie Schwartz in Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom.

I’m listening to it as an audio book as it is about to celebrate its 25th anniversary in publication. It’s one of the most quotable books I’ve ever read. There are so many meaningful lines that it took me a half hour to choose a focus for today’s challenge.

Then I remembered I have 100 days of writing (86 more to go after today), so expect more references to Morrie! :)

I found myself selecting on a long quote by Morrie about material possessions and how they don’t bring you lasting happiness. It’s an old theme, but worth discussing again and in different ways, since it is one of the disadvantages of a capitalistic society, and that’s what we live in. This is not to say there are many advantages as well to capitalism. A sword is only sharpened on one side. Day has night. No system on the planet—and we need systems (think the human body, the aquafer, systems for survival and living)—is perfect. 

Morrie Schwartz is a sociology professor with a respectable zest for life, huge capacity for love, joy enough to dance by himself in a crowded room, and a lifetime of wisdom to impart as a dedicated and compassionate teacher. And as a person who is consciously present and aware. Awake to life, not asleep.

And he is dying of ALS.

He’s a real person and the book is based on conversations and experiences with the author, an ex-student. 

Morrie, given a finite time to live, decides to share his very positive experience of death with as many people as possible. 

“The truth is, once you learn how to die, you learn how to live.” - Morrie Schwartz

Here is what he says about consumerism:

“We've got a sort of brainwashing going on in our country, Morrie sighed. Do you know how they brainwash people? They repeat something over and over. And that's what we do in this country. Owning things is good. More money is good. More property is good. More commercialism is good. More is good. More is good. We repeat it—and have it repeated to us—over and over until nobody bothers to even think otherwise. The average person is so fogged up by all of this, he has no perspective on what's really important anymore.

Wherever I went in my life, I met people wanting to gobble up something new. Gobble up a new car. Gobble up a new piece of property. Gobble up the latest toy. And then they wanted to tell you about it. 'Guess what I got? Guess what I got?'

You know how I interpreted that? These were people so hungry for love that they were accepting substitutes. They were embracing material things and expecting a sort of hug back. But it never works. You can't substitute material things for love or for gentleness or for tenderness or for a sense of comradeship.

Money is not a substitute for tenderness, and power is not a substitute for tenderness. I can tell you, as I'm sitting here dying, when you most need it, neither money nor power will give you the feeling you're looking for, no matter how much of them you have.” 
― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie

In our household, we’re currently looking at putting in a hot tub in our backyard. Do we need one? No. Do we have ample funds for it? No. But we’re probably going to buy it anyway. But I’m okay with that after reflecting on Morrie’s words, after asking the REASON for the purchase in an honest way.

We’re not getting the hot tub to keep up with the Jones or to tell others we have it or as a symbol of success and leisure. We want it, because our kids are teenagers, one a senior, the other a sophomore, and we want them to have a safe and enjoyable place to bring their friends. We want our house to be a welcome and secure place, knowing full-well the turbulence of adolescence. It’s a device to help them build and maintain community, friendships, romance, love. 

This was an interesting reflection, because we have many more practical things to spend our money on like house repairs and paying down some debt—which we are doing, but slowly. 

The thing is there’s a clear expiration date on the value of this particular purchase: one year until our eldest is in college somewhere. The umbilical cord will be stretched far (but never severed).

What if we looked at every purchase with this kind of questioning and reflection? 

Why am I buying this? Really? What do I hope to accomplish with the purchase? Is it for me and my happiness? Does it encourage more self-love and love of others? (We’re not talking lust here.)

If a material thing is for your own joy, is it a placebo for love and affection, for compassion and tenderness?

Still, it’s worth more reflection. A hot tub isn’t required to create community. There are other ways to make a home feel welcoming and safe for teenagers certainly. Is the idea itself generated from the repeated message of consumerism, of expectations of our society?  

Tuesdays with Morrie was released in 1997, and yes, Morrie passed away in 1995. 

And we’ve only seen more and more of the “brainwashing” Morrie talks about in the book. I remember in the 2000s hearing the message from national leaders equating good citizenship with being a good consumer. Oh no! I thought. 

And we want to be good. We want someone in authority to tell us we’re good people. Because shame is way too prevalent in humankind, often never identified as such, but festering and eating away at self-esteem, consuming. Yeah, a different kind of consumerism. But definitely related. 

And that makes us vulnerable to all kinds of repeated messages, an effective marketing strategy, especially when they are emotional. There’s been a few of those lately!