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The
Importance of Being Lazy: In Praise of Play, Leisure, and Vacations by Al
Gini Rating: ••• (Recommended) |
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Time Out Sneak a few minutes of time on your next
business trip to read Al Gini’s new book, The Importance
of Being Lazy. Do not read this book during leisure time or vacation. More
seriously written than you might expect, I can almost imagine philosophy Professor
Gini keeping quotes and poignant phrases on 3 x 5 cards (or on a computer)
for use in this book. Here’s the beginning of chapter 5, “Shopping as Leisure
and Play,” (pp. 81-85): “The
idea of more, of ever increasing wealth, has become the center of our
identity and our security, and we are caught by it as an addict by his
drugs.” – Paul Wachtel Whether
for a week, weeks at a time, or just a weekend, millions of Americans go on
vacation each year. Millions and millions more, however, out of choice or
necessity, don't. So, the question becomes—for those who do not travel, do
not take a vacation—how do they recreate? What do they do for leisure? How do
they play? According to the Harvard economist Juliet Schor,
although lots of Americans seek solace in hobbies, in volunteer
organizations, in the contemplative solitude of a book, or in the aesthetics
and anesthetic effects of television, most of us seek comfort and consolation
in the pleasures and products of shopping. In her disturbingly accurate book The
Ovetspent American, Schor argues that we are both children and captives
of a "culture of consumerism." For far too many of us,
"shopping till we drop" is not lust a satirical cliche but, rather,
an honorific—a lifestyle to be wished
for and sought after. In
America, Schor argues, shopping has become a "primary pleasure
principle," a "birthright," and our most common form of
"psychological release" and "stress reduction." It has
been transmogrified from a "basic necessity," to a "form of
recreation," to a "lifestyle." For more and more of us, the
activities and rituals of shopping have become our main means of recreation and diversion. It
is the vehicle that more and more of us use to vacate ourselves from our
workaday lives. In his fascinating book The Day Before
Yesterday: Reconsidering America's Past, Rediscovering the Future,
the journalist and political commentator Michael Elliot suggests that the
birth of our "modern culture of consumerism" coincides with the end
of World War II. In 1945, says Elliot, based on the "twin rocks of its
economic and military might," America "bestrode the . . . world
like a colossus." Not only had we militarily defeated the Axis powers in
the field, but we had also produced the necessary military hardware, both for
ourselves and our Allies, to do so. After the war the issue became: could we
reconvert to a peacetime economy? Could we beat and bend our bullets back
into plowshares? Clearly, the answer was yes. By 1946, the United States
accounted for more than 40 percent of the world’s total economic output,
higher than any nation before. Cars were once again rolling off assembly
lines, that had been producing tanks, household goods were back on the
shelves at Sears and Montgomery Ward, rationing was over, and universities
were jammed with ex-GIs eager to better themselves. The general economy was
in high gear. It was no longer "the worst of times"; it was we were
righteously convinced—"the best of times." We embraced the
"golden years," says Elliot, as the fruition of the "American
Dream." We had survived the Depression, won the war, and had officially
become a "people of plenty" As one commentator described America's
attitude in the 1950s: "The War is over. Lets make babies and build
houses and get down to business."" The postwar boom economy was a
benchmark we sought to maintain, expand, and pass on to future generations.* On
the basis of Schors calculations, the level of production in America since
1948 has more than doubled. What this means is that we can now produce enough
goods and services to live at our 1948 standard of living (measured in
market-available services and goods) in less than half the time it took in
1948. This in turn means that if we chose to, we could work four hours a day;
or work a year in six months; or every worker in America could take every
other year off with pay. Just do the arithmetic, says Schor. So why—given our
poverty of time and the burdens of work—haven't we traded our prosperity for
leisure?' "Why," asks Schor, "has leisure been such a
conspicuous casualty of prosperity?" Or, as Daniel Bell put it, what
keeps the American worker, "like the mythical figure of Ixion,"
chained seemingly forever to the endless revolving wheel of work?' The
answer, of course, is obvious. In biblical terms, it’s called "things of
the flesh." In economic terms, it is called the "immediate
gratification of consumer goods"—a house, a car, appliances, gadgets,
whatnots, and all manner of other creature comforts. Free-market capitalism and its fruits (consumer
products and services), says the economist William Grieder, is the secular
religion of our time.'' Simply put, we have become addicted to the fruits of
our production. We have traded our time and remain chained to our jobs in
order to obtain consumer products and services. We-have deconstructed
Aristotle's adage "the purpose of work is the attainment of
leisure" to the far baser notion "I work in order to consume and
possess." We have become a society of "conspicuous consumers"
where wants equal needs, and needs clamor for instant fulfillment and
gratification. In his now classic antiestablishment text. One
Dimensional Man, Herbert Marcuse points out that we have made a tautology
out of the equation: The goods of life are equal to the good life. Marcuse
contends that as a society, we are infatuated with the benefits of science,
technology, and industrialism because they have been able to produce a lifestyle to which we
have become both accustomed and addicted. In most industrial countries,
modern-day capitalism, suggests Marcuse, has fulfilled an age-old dream of
humankind: freedom from basic want. No matter what the political limits and
drawbacks, the system has proved to be efficient in its capacity to produce a
seemingly unlimited number and variety of products and services. We have been
numbed by the niceties of the system, suggests Marcuse. People find comfort
and recognize themselves in their commodities. They find their soul in their
auto, their status and identity in their stereo system, their home, their
wardrobe. In a lesser-known but equally antiestablishment
text. To Have or lo Be?, Erich Fromm contends that the ruling philosophy of our
day is not "to be much" but "to have much." We are
caught, he says, in a consumer society in which individuals are known both by
their professions and by their power over and in the marketplace. The
difference between "being" and "having," says Fromm, is
not simply an empty metaphysical notion. It is, rather, the key difference
between a society centered around persons and one centered around things. The
"having' orientation is characteristic of Western industrial society, in
which greed for money, fame, and power has become the dominant theme of life.
Fromm argues that in modern society "citizen"and
"consumer" are synonymous terms, and all consumers identify
themselves by the formula: "I am what I have and what I
consume.'" Consumerism assumes that having more is being more and I if some is
good, more must absolutely be better. It identifies well-being with buying,
accumulating, and displaying consumer goods and services. Consumerism is
perceived as an acquired right and a national characteristic. Though we poke
fun at our materialistic obsessiveness—"He who has the most toys,
wins!"; "Nothing succeeds like excess!"; "So many malls
and so little trunk space!"—we do not renounce it." Instead of
disparaging the tendency to want more than we need, we have elevated it to the status
of a private duty and a public virtue. We are, seemingly, in complete accord
with Adam Smiths dictum: "Consumption is the sole end and purpose of all
production."" Wanting more is neither excessive nor a vice in a
consumer society. To shop is not merely to pass time or simply to acquire
goods and services. To shop is to be! One way or another, you’ll find yourself
reflecting on what Gini says in The
Importance of Being Lazy. That’s one reason why you should not read this
book while on vacation. Reflecting can be hard work. If you’re looking for a
reason to relax, Gini will provide you with ample reasons to take a break. Steve Hopkins, September 23, 2003 |
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ã 2003 Hopkins and Company, LLC The
recommendation rating for this book appeared in the October 2003
issue of Executive
Times URL
for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The
Importance of Being Lazy.htm For
Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins
& Company, LLC • 723 North Kenilworth Avenue • Oak Park, IL 60302 E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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