Love of money? We could all do with a little bit more, or so it seems. In our advanced capitalist society money is a symbol of exchange value. It's not the "thing itself"—a hundred dollar bill, a gold Krugerrand—it's what you can do with money in the various competing markets. These include markets from the basic necessities of life (food, somewhere to live, transportation), to the little luxuries of life (a nicer vehicle, a vacation every now and then), to real luxuries (art and trinkets that command large sums of money). You could summarize what money can buy as "necessities" and "stuff." In our weirdly bicameral world, where so many go without even the basic necessities that keep life together, many of us have too much stuff.
The need for money is also future oriented. For most of our lives, most of us have to work in exchange for money so that we can provide for ourselves and those we love and care for. But, at a certain point we can no longer work, or choose not to, or are forced not to because of ill health, and so we "retire." At that point we need another source of money to exchange for the things we need ... a pension or retirement account. For fun, I played around with a retirement calculator to see how much savings a family on the average US income (see below) would need to retire. It turns out to be quite a lot! If the age of the breadwinner is 35 now, then by retirement said person would need to save $1.75 million dollars saved before the age of 67, or, if social security is taken into account (Pension for the Brits reading this) a mere $1.25 million, in order to sustain a lifestyle at 75% of income before retirement, for twenty years after retirement.
In 1999, Australian philosopher Peter Singer, who moved to Princeton University shortly afterward, wrote a controversial little piece, "The Singer Solution to World Poverty." His basic argument was that if we can prevent something bad from happening, without sacrificing something of comparable moral value, then we ought to do so. He continued by suggesting that the life of a starving child somewhere in the world is of more moral value than much of our "stuff." Therefore, we have a moral obligation to forego spending money on "stuff," and giving that money to save the life of a starving child. Back then, Singer estimated that the average American family could provide for all life's necessities with an annual income of $30,000. He suggested that any amount over $30,000 ought to be given to help save starving children from death. To put that in perspective, in 1999, the poverty line for a family of four in the USA was $16,700. So Singer's $30,000 was almost double the poverty threshold. In 2016, the USA poverty threshold for a family of four is $24,250. So, in today's figures, if Singer is correct, the average family ought to be able to live on something like $45,000 annual income, freeing up the rest to help save the lives of children. In 2014, (latest data) the average US family income was $53,657. (Incidentally, it was reported in the New York Times in 1999 that Singer was known to give one fifth of his income to charity.)
I make no comments on the validity of Singer's argument. But it makes you think.
Though Singer didn't explicitly say so, my assumption is that the flipside of his argument is that, in order to take his ideas seriously, we would all need to develop the virtue of contentment (back to our ancient Christian commentator).
And there's the rub. Our society bombards us with the very opposite message. We are encouraged, cajoled, and brow beaten to get more stuff. It's constant. It's the way the world works. Most of us fall for it to a greater or lesser extent. And then there's worry about the future ...
Hypothetically, let's say someone does want to develop the virtue of contentment. How would they do it? The ancient philosopher Aristotle gives us a clue. A content person is someone who has developed the virtue of contentment in such a way that contentment has become habitual. Little daily habits of being content, expressing contentment, habituate into the virtue of contentment. Practically, that would mean that in the little episodes of life, when you feel you "need" to get that stuff, you remind yourself, "No, I don't need it," and turn your attention to all the good things of life you already enjoy. Practicing the virtue of contentment in the little episodes of life would add up to a life of contentment. Then, if you buy into Singer's "solution," your contentment would support your giving to charity.
I'm already regretting writing this blog, because next time I cast my eye over some new, got-to-have piece of stuff, my words will come back to haunt me!
+Ab. Andy