Consumption: Untangling What We Want versus What We Need

From an early age, western society bombards us with images of wealth, and seeks to link our identity and sense of self with the acquisition of material possessions. Consumption of an increasing array of goods is equated with prosperity. Although some ethical/religious viewpoints, such as Buddhism, pinpoint desire itself as the source of our materialist society, it seems unrealistic to expect that desire can be eliminated wholesale, nor is it self-evident to most westerners why such a goal is necessary.

As Jacob Needleman has pointed out, western thinkers from Christ to Socrates have examined desire, and concluded that desire is not inherently evil, but that when we allow desire to define our identity, we then become slaves to the things we desire. Ownership becomes a form of modern addiction. Consumption becomes an endless spiral, further removed from awareness and concern of its effects on nature. In Dante’s Divine Comedy, for example, the poet Virgil defines Hell as the state in which we are barred from receiving what we truly need because of the value we give to what we merely want. Needleman quotes John Kenneth Galbraith, in The Affluent Society, as arguing “one cannot defend production as satisfying wants if that production creates the wants.” Yet, without thinking, we assign intrinsic value to a host of activities that have no market value—being with loved ones, or examining ideas, or being creative in some form. Likewise, we condemn unfettered consumption as greed, or “avarice.” Why, then, does it seem so natural to consume what we do not need, paying little heed to finite resources or to the resultant environmental degradation? Why are ethical concerns so easily jettisoned when they conflict with material satisfaction?

San Francisco State University student Kris Watanabe reflected on her experiences within a social subset where conspicuous consumption was both desired and expected:

The thought of making money is on the minds of every college student, who have goals of one day affording to buy mom a house and dad a sports car. In the life of a college student, money for food, rent and tuition are the highest priorities.
During my first few months in San Francisco I had the opportunity to work and “rub elbows” with high profile celebrities and socialites, and to my dismay, found their lives dramatically different from mine. As I worked on the elaborate store opening of Louis Vuitton, I realized that the “needs” of the rich were much more than what I considered to be my needs. The best champagne, wine and mineral water was ordered , as well as hors d’oeuvres, valet service, musicians, and floral arrangements spared little expense at creating a “smashing” party. Those ranked as high on the socialite list drove up in their Rolls Royces, Bentleys, limousines and the like. Dressed in Prada, Oscar de la Renta and Versace, everyone wore their best and looked like a million bucks.

Looking at the larger ethical and social implications to society and the environment of unrestrained consumption, she reflects on the excesses she observed:

“As a society however, we must ask ourselves how much is too much? In the 21st century we have become a society that bases our accomplishments on material objects. In order to achieve and survive, we purchase products that symbolize wealth and prestige.
With the fall of the Silicon Valley Empire, technology companies have laid off thousands of its employees to “downsize” and perhaps save their already drowning companies. Those affected by layoffs are now facing large accumulated debt for extravagant purchases made while they were employed. Fast cars, big boats, mansions, expensive clothes now seem like novelty items.
Do these luxury items make us more powerful? As individuals, do we ask how these material possessions will affect our lives, our children’s lives and the possibility of destruction of the environment for future generations?
Hopefully, strides will be made to educate society of our environmental dangers if we follow along the same path. Ironically, those who have the most power and control over the market of goods, and ultimately the most educated seem to disregard all environmental cautions. As precious and fragile our environment is, it seems still that money is what makes the world go round.”

Jacob Needleman echoes her thoughts when he observes that “the making of money has become an end in itself, and exchanges of money in an endless spiral of consumerism, far from being a reminder of our dependence on one another…are conducted in an atmosphere of impatience and cunning.” As Watanabe observes, the “needs” of an upper-income subset of society are more aligned with social acceptance and status seeking than with any basic necessity. While it is not our goal in this paper to disparage wealth, we nonetheless argue that limited resources, population increases, and environmental entropy are incompatible with a psychology that prioritizes desire satisfaction through material accumulation far in excess of one’s actual needs. Furthermore, this psychology objectifies the natural world as just another possession to satisfy individual desire, and minimizes the role of nature as a “commons” and as a source of wealth in its own sense.