Rooting for a recession
IS IT JUST cockeyed optimism, or is there something deeper at work in the way many Americans are finding a bright side to the looming recession?
All across the zeitgeist, people are talking about shorter lines at the movies, empty tables at the best restaurants, and falling prices for designer handbags courtesy of the economic slowdown. One Globe reader recently sent a letter to the editor cheering Boston's crashing home prices, because he could finally get aboard the real estate gravy train. No less an authority than the SundayStyles section of The
Others somewhat more selflessly look forward to cleaner air, shorter traffic jams, and less development pressure on the environment. Some even see lower blood pressure and fewer respiratory ailments as idled factories stop belching particulate matter. Magazines and websites are full of upbeat tips for weathering the recession: Consider graduate school! Take free walks in the park! Learn to bake bread!
There is something oddly celebratory to it all, at least among secure, middle-class Americans who face little more than inconvenience and a time-out for their stock portfolios while the economy regains its balance. For such people, preparing for the recession comes with a little frisson, like stocking up for a big blizzard or hurricane - fun so long as you're secure at home. On CBS's "The Early Show" last week, a segment about riding out the recession featured good wines to be had for under $15.
But the cheerful anticipation of hard times can't all be written off as yuppie recession chic. There is a genuine yearning for simplicity among Americans who are plum exhausted by the breakneck pace of the modern economy. A recession would give everyone an excuse to downshift; when even Masters of the Universe are lowering expectations, who would dare demand 60-hour weeks from mere cubicle dwellers?
It's a relief, in a way, not to feel compelled to buy that iPhone or flat-screen TV. Now indulgent parents who need a little help saying no to the kids' demands for the latest gadget can blame the economy.
The futurist and trend-spotter Faith Popcorn was on to this development even before Bear Stearns collapsed. Her company BrainReserve identified "minimalism" and a rejection of "hyperconsumption" as major forces in 2008. Among the many anxieties plaguing Americans, she found, was fear of "The Onslaught." Sixty percent of respondents in a BrainReserve survey agreed with the statement: "I am overwhelmed by the pace of life today; too much noise, too much to do, not enough time."
The clarifying power of hard times forces everyone to take a breath, take stock, and figure out what is really important.
With a recession on, workers don't have to feel like selfish slackers because they want to spend more time in the garden, or with the kids. There is a sense of virtuousness to making lifestyle changes - carpooling, recycling, eating locally - that are both frugal and green. It's like getting a second chance at those New Year's resolutions.
The trouble is that a nation all at once cutting back sharply on spending could really send the economy into a tailspin. The United States economy is overly dependent on relentless growth in consumption; cut that off and the impact can be a double whammy: More people will lose their jobs and face truly severe financial trouble, and those still working will be under even more pressure to produce.
Meanwhile, some commodities haven't gotten the memo about depressed prices. Heating oil and gasoline are in the stratosphere, and the country is undergoing the worst inflation in basic grocery prices since the early 1990s. Suddenly rediscovering our inner Yankee doesn't seem so romantic anymore.
Still, shopping therapy has its limits. Despite the none-too-subtle encouragement from the government to stimulate the economy - the last thing Washington wants you to do with that rebate check is put it in the bank! - a culture dependent on stuff for its happiness suffers from a poverty no amount of spending can assuage. Once the essentials are covered, wealth comes from within. It shouldn't take an economic convulsion to remember that.
Renée Loth is editorial page editor of the Globe.
