Few things form us more as Westernerers than consumerism. William Cavanaugh, a Roman Catholic theologian, believes that the prescription for our untethered desire is found in the third century theologian, Augustine. In our relationship with Christ, Cavanaugh suggests, our desires are both directed and filled.
Cavanaugh explains that “In a consumer culture we are conditioned to believe that human desires have no end and are therefore endless.” In contrast, as we experience intimate relationship with God, that story is flipped on its head: “The Eucharist, by way of contrast, enacts a different story, a story of abundance: by being drawn into God’s life, we radically call into question the boundaries between the haves and the have-nots.”
The fundamental issue with a capitalistic system is that there is no objective aim. “[A] free market has no telos, that is, no common end to which desire is directed.” In contrast, “Augustine’s view of freedom is more complex: freedom is not simply a negative freedom from, but a freedom for, a capacity to achieve certain worthwhile goals.”
In other words, Cavanaugh says, “This is not just a matter of wanting too much; it is a matter of wanting without any idea why we want what we want. To desire with no good other than desire itself is to deserve arbitrarily. To desire with no telos, no connection to the objective end of desire, is to desire nothing and to become nothing.” The primary issue with consumerism isn’t then the amount of desire, it is that that desire is aimed at itself.
Surprisingly, then, in this materialist world, “What really characterizes consumer culture is not attachment to things but detachment. People to not hoard money; they spend it. People do not cling to things; they discard them and buy other things.” This profound insight has haunted me since I read it. This is at the heart of the spiritual sickness of consumerism. Furthermore, “In consumer culture, dissatisfaction and satisfaction cease to be opposites, for pleasure is not so much in the possession of things as in their pursuit… Possession kills desire; familiarity breeds contempt.”
Cavanaugh continues, “Consumerism is not simply people rejecting spirituality for materialism. For many people, consumerism is a type of spirituality, even if they do not recognize it as such. It is a way of pursuing meaning and identity, a way of connecting with other people.” Cavanaugh is right: consumerism doesn’t merely infect spirituality, it replaces it.
This type of system can’t help but to create injustices between the consumer and the producer: “In a world of consumption without ends, it is assumed that the consumer will want to maximize his or own power at the expense of the laborer, and the manager does not feel free to resist this logic, lest his or her own corporation fall victim to competition from other corporation that are better positioned to take advantage of cheap labor.” But this is not what we were created for. “Our work was meant to be an outlet for creativity, a vocation to make our impress on the material world.”
Furthermore, consumerism flattens out the world: “We are rapidly approaching a utopia, which, says the president of Nabisco, will be ‘one world of homogenous consumption…’” “The surface appearance of diversity in fact masks a stifling homogeneity.” “The tourist can go anywhere, but is always nowhere.”
Cavanaugh believes that Christianity offers a solution for this sickness. Christianity tells us that we are made for a purpose and that purpose is God. Augustine in Confessions, “You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” The sickness of consumerism shouldn’t surprise us: we are desiring beings, made for desire that can only be fulfilled in God himself.
Cavanaugh says, “Only Christianity satisfactorily solves the problem of the One and the many, because Christ is the ‘concrete universal.’ Only in the Incarnation can an individual be universal and the universal be individual.”
The incarnation of Christ creates the reality of a life that is lived not for oneself, but for the sake of another. “The kenosis of God creates the possibility of a human subject very different from the consumer self.” This is a self that gives oneself for another. This is the selfless, the other-focused self. Cavanaugh quotes Hans Urs von Balthasar: “Thus, in the very discipleship in which the Christian ‘loses his soul,’ he can attain his true identity.”
The way of the Christian is demonstrated in the Eucharist. “To consume the Eucharist is an act of anticonsumption, for here to consume is to be consumed, to be taken up into participation in something larger than the self, yet in a way in which the identity of the self is paradoxically secured.”
Cavanaugh has, without a doubt, diagnosed the sickness of consumerism expertly. And his spiritual prescription is, likewise, compelling. I highly commend this book to you.
However, Cavanaugh’s economic solutions are less compelling. He suggests that Fair Trade treats the neighbor with dignity. That’s a start, but I doubt that this is the makings of an economic system that fully expresses the justice of God. In fact, I wonder if, while Cavanaugh is correct, capitalism might be, borrowing from Winston Churchill, the worst form of economics, except all of the other forms that have been tried. This is not to let capitalism off the hook, but rather that we should continue as Christians to critique the broken systems in which we live, and to attempt to live lives that bear out the in-breaking hope of Christ in every system, all the while recognizing our finitude in demonstrating the fullness of the justice of the Kingdom of God in this age.