Paul Biery still has his Moncheechee plush water doll, retail
value $39.95. His column appears on alternate Fridays.
Nine years old. Saturday morning. Watching the latest episode of
The Moncheechee – "Moncheechee Moncheechee, happy, smiling
Moncheechees!" What a great theme song.
Admit it, you used to love that show. They’d all gotten into
some wacky adventure because one of them had made an independent
decision and now the patriarch had to bail them out and teach them
a lesson. Commercial break. Look kids! You can get your own
Moncheechee doll. And Moncheechee cereal. And Moncheechee pajamas.
And Moncheechee bed sheets. And Moncheechee at-home enema. Okay, I
made that last one up. I run, wild-eyed, to my mom. "I’ve gotta get
one of those dolls!" Lesson No. 1.
Flash forward.
Thirteen years old. Summer camp. I go to the camp store five
minutes before it closes and buy 10 candy bars at 75 cents a piece
(a fair price, I’d say). I wait about 10 minutes and then head back
to our campsite. "Who wants a candy bar? Only $1.50 each." I sell
them all in five minutes. I leave camp at the end of the week with
more money than I came with. Lesson No. 2.
Flash forward.
Sixteen years old. Working at the capitalist’s paradise,
Wal-Mart. Got to save up for that new stereo. Employee meeting.
"Remember you have no idea that the Beautiful Essence line of
women’s fashions is made by slave labor in China. As far as you
know, everything we sell is made in the USA. Because at Wal-Mart,
we’re proud of America." A customer asks me if the clothes she
wants to purchase were made in China. I tell her the truth. I get a
10-minute lecture from my boss. Lesson No. 3.
Flash forward.
Last summer. Working at the computer store in my hometown. The
computer business is a racket, in case you want to know. My boss,
whom we’ll call Richard because that’s his name, buys academic
computers from his supplier and sells them at retail prices. He
tells me,"Hey, how am I supposed to know where they get the
computers from? All I know is that they’re cheap and that’s what
matters." His favorite book is a how-to guide called Money Love. I
swear to God. Lesson No. 4.
Yes, I was a consumer baby.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted that toy on television,
fought with my brother over who owned a particular G.I. Joe, had to
have a huge mansion when I grew up. But this couldn’t have been
natural. None of us are born capitalists – it’s something we’re
taught. So we’ve been given our lessons, and every time we salivate
over the newest thing, we pass the test of good consumerism.
But what have we learned?
We’ve learned that might doesn’t make right – money does. Those
who have, can, and those who don’t hope to win the lottery. If I
could just get those six numbers, I could have everything I need
and be happy forever. Because we need these things – at least
that’s what we’ve been taught.
We’ve learned that if only we could spread capitalism to every
corner of the earth, we could make everyone happy. And we’ve
learned that the reason there are starving people in the world is
because they’re too goddamn stupid to feed themselves and it has
nothing to do with the fact that the capitalists have moved in and
taken over their land in order to use it for more profitable ends
than subsistence farming. Profit. Are you profitable?
That’s the question.
But don’t tell me that this is natural. Don’t tell me that this
is the way things should be.
What is natural about money, profit or interest rates?
Nothing. Nothing is natural about the runaway consumption that
is the basis of our society. But that’s the lie that we’ve told
ourselves. And it’s buried so deep in our minds that we don’t even
know it’s there. We will consume and consume until there is nothing
left to consume. Forget about the planet, forget about ethics,
forget about anyone who gets in your way. Consume at all costs and
remember to always turn a profit.
The fact is, Adam Smith’s Invisible Hand is covered with blood.
Just ask that bum that you pass everyday on Gayley Avenue if he
thinks that the free-market system is our best option. Let’s face
it – what possible good could come from a system that uses
humanity’s worst traits (greed, competition, self-interest) as its
hallmarks of progress?
Stop and think about it for a minute. There’s only so much stuff
to go around. It’s a simple equation. For every rich person,
there’s an equally poor person.
For every baron of industry, like that champion of the American
way, Wal-Mart founder Sam Walton, there’s some wretch in the street
without enough to feed himself, and we don’t even know his name
because he’s not a "success story." For every over-indulged child
that demands a new doll, there’s the child (usually of a somewhat
darker skin color) forced at gunpoint to make that doll.
I was a consumer baby, and to a great degree I still am. My
pulse races when I see a commercial for the newest camcorder. I
still want the best car and the biggest house. You see, I was
trained well, and good breeding always shows. But sometimes a part
of me wonders about the person on the other side of that equation.
What don’t they have and what don’t I need? Am I willing to stand
up against the atrocities that make my life easier? Am I willing to
give up a little comfort and convenience to make someone else’s
life better? What’s so strange, so unnatural about wanting everyone
to have what they need? You tell me.