|
|
 |
|
| Comment: From the Editor |
Station Identification
Douglas McWhirter
03/01/2008
|
The British evolutionary theorist Oliver Curry made headlines
in 2006 by predicting that over the course of the next 100,000 years, the human
race will evolve into two distinct species: an "upper" group that is
physically beautiful, intelligent and privileged, and a "goblinlike" subspecies
that will be "dim-witted, ugly and squat."
Leave it to a Brit to offer a theory of evolution that reads
like a surreal version of one of Anthony Trollope’s 19th-century novels of
class, envy and aspiration in Victorian England. In Trollope’s narratives, the
privileged have it all while those of lesser station aspire to having it all—or
resent those who already do—resulting in an awkward, fascinating interplay
between the classes.
In the United States, we tell ourselves that we are all created
equal, and that silly European notions of class are archaic. While we
acknowledge racial, gender and a host of other social inequalities, Americans
don’t speak too much about class division—which is odd, given that the United
States is as socially stratified as any society on earth. Class informs almost
all of the issues we as a nation grapple with today: healthcare, jobs and
education, to name a few. Furthermore, class in America is nothing new. As the
framers of the Constitution clearly spelled out all those years ago, only male
members of the landed classes originally had the right to vote. Citizens in the
South who owned land and slaves drove the Confederacy to secede. President
Franklin Roosevelt, considered by some to be the greatest class traitor in
American history, saved the republic by redistributing wealth across class
lines during a moment of extreme economic peril.
Yet despite this rich history of social stratification and its
impact on our nation, Americans still prefer not to acknowledge class. Instead,
we euphemistically frame the entire matter in purely financial terms: Those
with lots of money are upper class. Those with less money are middle or lower
class. Those who have little but strike it rich go immediately from lower class
to upper class. With a little luck and hard work, we can all be upper class,
right?
In this issue, Judy Martel examines one of the gray areas of
our peculiarly American system of privilege: the affectation of class, achieved
by purchasing luxury items associated with wealth. In an age of easy credit and
Machiavellian marketing, she writes, it has become increasingly easy for members
of the middle class to acquire, often in small amounts, certain luxury products
that stand as hallmarks of wealth and privilege. French couture, German luxury
automobiles, jewelry, fine wine—all of these products that were once the
exclusive domain of the wealthy are now being marketed to the aspiring masses,
who are devouring them like candy. As a result, it is becoming difficult, if
not impossible, to discern who is or is not wealthy—and to which social station
they belong. The fact that luxury goods have become a force for social equality
must have Karl Marx spinning in his grave.
This blurring of class boundaries—which is happening not just
in the U.S., but, as Martel reports, around the globe—is a phenomenon that
undermines Curry’s grim predictions. One wonders how aspiration fits into his
calcula-tions. Will the majority of human beings on the planet evolve passively
into goblinlike creatures as others become tall, beautiful and creative?
Not if the marketers of luxury goods have any say in the
matter.
|
|
|
|
|
