Liberals talk about circumstances; conservatives talk about character.
Let us, however, be fair: some conservatives are willing to censure the rich, too. Running through much recent conservative writing is the theme that America’s elite has also fallen down on the job, that it has lost the seriousness and restraint of an earlier era.
About our “decadent elites,” who make jokes about how they are profiting at the expense of the little people. Charles Murray, whose book “Coming Apart” is mainly about the alleged decay of values among the white working class, also denounces the “unseemliness” of the very rich, with their lavish lifestyles and gigantic houses.
But
has there really been an explosion of elite ostentation? And, if there
has, does it reflect moral decline, or a change in circumstances?
I’ve just reread a remarkable article titled “How top executives live,” originally published in Fortune in 1955
and reprinted a couple of years ago. It’s a portrait of America’s
business elite two generations ago, and it turns out that the lives of
an earlier generation’s elite were, indeed, far more restrained, more
seemly if you like, than those of today’s Masters of the Universe.
“The
executive’s home today,” the article tells us, “is likely to be
unpretentious and relatively small — perhaps seven rooms and two and a
half baths.” The top executive owns two cars and “gets along with one or
two servants.” Life is restrained in other ways, too: “Extramarital
relations in the top American business world are not important enough to
discuss.” Actually, I’m sure there was plenty of hanky-panky, but
people didn’t flaunt it. The elite of 1955 at least pretended to set a
good example of responsible behavior.
But
before you lament the decline in standards, there’s something you
should know: In celebrating America’s sober, modest business elite,
Fortune described this sobriety and modesty as something new. It
contrasted the modest houses and motorboats of 1955 with the mansions
and yachts of an earlier generation. And why had the elite moved away
from the ostentation of the past? Because it could no longer afford to
live that way. The large yacht, Fortune tells us, “has foundered in the
sea of progressive taxation.”
But that sea has since receded. Giant yachts and enormous houses have made a comeback. In fact, in places like Greenwich, Conn., some of the “outsize mansions” Fortune described as relics of the past have been replaced with even bigger mansions.
And
there’s no mystery about what happened to the good-old days of elite
restraint. Just follow the money. Extreme income inequality and low taxes at the top
are back. For example, in 1955 the 400 highest-earning Americans paid
more than half their incomes in federal taxes, but these days that
figure is less than a fifth. And the return of lightly taxed great
wealth has, inevitably, brought a return to Gilded Age ostentation.
Is
there any chance that moral exhortations, appeals to set a better
example, might induce the wealthy to stop showing off so much? No.
It’s
not just that people who can afford to live large tend to do just that.
As Thorstein Veblen told us long ago, in a highly unequal society the
wealthy feel obliged to engage in “conspicuous consumption,” spending in
highly visible ways to demonstrate their wealth. And modern social
science confirms his insight. For example, researchers at the Federal
Reserve have shown that people living in highly unequal neighborhoods
are more likely to buy luxury cars than those living in more homogeneous
settings. Pretty clearly, high inequality brings a perceived need to spend money in ways that signal status.
The
point is that while chiding the rich for their vulgarity may not be as
offensive as lecturing the poor on their moral failings, it’s just as
futile. Human nature being what it is, it’s silly to expect humility
from a highly privileged elite. So if you think our society needs more
humility, you should support policies that would reduce the elite’s
privileges.
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