In a recent New Republic article on the ills of consumerism (June 17. 2009), communitarian leader Amitai Etzioni explains the problem: “A culture in which the urge to consume dominates the psychology of citizens is a culture in which people will do most anything to acquire the means to consume…”  This unrestrained, indeed communally-driven impulse to buy is, he argues, a prime cause of our current financial malaise. We all want too much, and will fill our days, contort our lives, to be certain that we get it.  (Even if we end up storing half of it in off-site storage units.)

Yet studies show that more stuff does not yield greater happiness. Since WWII, per capita income has tripled in the US, but overall satisfaction has plateaued. Indeed one of the greatest determinants of personal satisfaction is not a matter of fullness, but how we measure up against our neighbors. “Relative rather than absolute deprivation is what counts.”

The problem of consumerism, then, begins with us and our appetites, so it must be resolved through us and our appetites. Regulation can help stop the most egregious offenses, he continues. But it is changing the billions of consumer decisions we make every day that will truly heal our broken system.

His point is that our incessant, even desperate, pursuit of things is a surrogate for our incessant, even desperate, pursuit of happiness. The only way to dislodge consumerism, then, is to replace it with something more satisfying. “[I]t is not enough,” he writes, “to establish that which people ought not to do… Consumerism will not just magically disappear from its central place in our culture. It needs to be supplanted by something.”

What is that something? He offers two suggestions: communitarianism and transcendental pursuits. Etzioni is more compelling in his assessment of the problem than his presentation of a solution. But I believe he is on the right track. That is, if consumerism is at heart a spiritual pursuit, however misguided, then it can only be displaced by an authentic spiritual pursuit.

In his own way, Etzioni is arguing that religion is a prime arena for combating rampant consumerism, and therefore a prime source for motivating toward a life of “green.” After all, domestic consumption in the US drives 80% of our marketplace, and our marketplace is the premier source of environmental degradation. It is our behavior, then, our values and our appetites that can drive our economy toward sustainability.

This won’t happen overnight, but it can happen. The world was not always driven by consumption. We need to engage in what Etzioni calls a megalogue, that is, a national conversation conducted by millions of people over a million cups of coffee in a million conference rooms or dinner tables, or cafes. Perhaps that way we can make “less” become the new “more”; fill our hearts’ longings without filling our closets. Fodder for off-site storage facilities is not food for the soul.

Imagine that stuff would be more equitably created and distributed around the world; that instead of spending so much time shopping we spent it visiting and reading and playing music and re-building community. Imagine that the money we saved went to purchase services instead of unnecessary stuff so that more people would have more jobs that meant more to them and did more good; imagine that we could spend more of our creative energy on learning about the world and figuring out how to make things constantly better; imagine more time at home without the commutes that we endure to get to work to earn the money to buy the cars that get us to work… 

This idea, seeded by Etzioni, seems like a chimera, a fantasy. But we were once driven by the lure of learning and justice, discovery and medicine, leisure and music. That is, a life filled with the pursuit of culture and meaning, and not the acquisition of stuff. No doubt we can be again.