How have we evolved from creatures of production to those of consumption? In the West, consumer culture started in the early 1900s as the Industrial Revolution was well underway. New technologies and economic efficiencies were dramatically altering life and work, freeing up people to pursue non-agricultural endeavors. In addition, the percentage of income spent on biological necessities fell precipitously over the 20^th Century. These factors would provoke some of the greatest lifestyle shifts ever witnessed in history.

Around the beginning of the 20^th Century, free time emerged—10 minutes, an hour, an entire day—in which people could finally do something besides physically toil and rest. The great result was leisure—once the domain of only the wealthiest families—for the rising lower and middle classes. Suddenly, millions of people had extra time to consider non-survival needs and desires, and higher wages to indulge them. In 1870, the average American worker labored 3,069 hours per year, six 10-hour days per week. By 1950, these hours had fallen to 2,075.^[1] Today, it is closer to 1,730 in the U.S.^[2] This change has been repeated around the world. In 1960, the average Japanese worker toiled 2,432 hours a year during a 6-day work week. By 1988, growing prosperity helped drop this to 2,111, and by 2000, it was down to 1,878 hours.^[3] Free time provides people the luxury of choice and the ability to consume.

Leisure’s growth is linked not only to a reduced work week, but also to a longer lifespan and a smaller percentage of life spent in the workforce as compared to our ancestors. American life expectancy was approximately 30 years less in 1900 than in 2000. As a result, expectations of when and how long one needs to work have been completely altered.

In modern economies, formal work starts later in life and ends earlier. Instead of laboring on the farm, many now spend much of the first 18 years of life in school, with occasional part-time or summer work. Moreover, with greater demand for education in wealthier societies, employment is increasingly postponed until after college (usually about age 22), or perhaps even after graduate or professional school (well into the 20s). Americans typically retire at age 62, with approximately 20 years left for full-time leisure.

Nobel prize-winning economist Robert William Fogel has actually quantified these lifestyle gains in time. He divides “lifetime discretionary hours” into “earnwork” and “volwork”; where “earnwork” is the time spent earning a living and “volwork” is voluntary activity (which may or may not earn money). In his estimates, the average lifetime discretionary hours for Americans will have grown from 225,900 hours in 1880 to 321,900 by 2040 (meaning they will live almost 100,000 hours longer!). Simultaneously, “earnwork” hours will actually decline, from 182,100 in 1880 to a projected 75,900 by 2040.^[5] As Figure 8-1 notes, while only 40% of an American’s life was at leisure in 1870, by 1990 it had grown to approximately 70%. In total, from 1880–1990, the average American’s cumulative lifetime leisure time grew more than five-fold, from 48,300 hours to a remarkable 246,000 hours, or 22 years!

Figure 8-1. Soaring free time, or how the average American worker spends wakeful hours, 1870–1990.^[4]

Professor Gary Cross describes the significant distinction between “free” time and “work” time, with more people thinking of free time as “fun.”^[6] This democratization of leisure or fun—now spreading globally—has created new products and industries needed to fill this extra time.

Note

As people have moved from farms to factories, more excess time and money have resulted in redefining Material and Experiential lifestyles in the modern world. Figure 8-2 notes how technologically, leisure products, experiences, and wealth have all grown symbiotically in the last century or so.

Figure 8-2. Wealth and leisure trends, 2000BCE–2000CE.

At the same time that leisure time increased, free markets were expanding and strong price deflation trends began, as Delong described in his 1895 Montgomery Ward catalog example. Wages began to increase with industrialization, giving people more purchasing power while workdays shortened. As noted, many products—now in mass production—became cheaper and more affordable for the average laborer. While prices are typically high when goods are initially introduced to a market, through economies of scale, they fall quickly as demand rises. In the early 1900s, this process was underway as people for the first time had real discretionary money to spend on what are called “nonessentials,” or treats. Whereas a soda cost a nickel and took about 20 minutes of labor in 1900, by 1910, the same soda (still costing 5 cents) took just 15 minutes (see Table 8-1). By 1920, the labor time had dropped to 5 minutes, and today it’s down to less than 90 seconds!

The results of these developments—longer lives, less work, and cheaper goods—were reflected in historic shifts in spending patterns for Americans and other wealthy countries during the 20^th Century. The percentage of American income going to basic needs (including shelter, clothing, and food) decreased from 75% of total household expenditures at the turn of the century to less than 40%.^[8] Where does this extra money go? To nonessentials, including movie tickets, TVs, CD players, vacations, designer sunglasses, a health club membership, or an extra car; in short, to fill a variety of Material and Experiential needs (see Figure 8-3).

Figure 8-3. From Biological to Material households: how Americans spend, 1901 and 1995.

This process is now spreading globally as more places and people are being incorporated into the international economy. For parts of the developing world, such as Mali, the majority of household money continues to go to fill basic Biological needs. However, many countries have managed to move above this level and are now consuming nonessential goods in greater numbers. Pockets in Asia, Africa, and Latin America are moving from agriculture into manufacturing, freeing up both time and money. Granted, in some cases, it might only translate into a few extra hours and dollars a week, but with virtually any extra income, people consume more. Whether it is an extra bottle of milk, a vaccination, a newspaper, a flour grinder, a refrigerator, or an automobile, as wealth is created, a new consumer segment is born.

As people earn more (and have more time), what they value is reflected in what they consume. In a Biological society, physiological needs rule: A man toils in a field to produce wheat for bread and other basic survival items. As industrialization takes root, however, he’ll begin to earn more from a factory job. Suddenly, with some extra purchasing power, he might simply want to eat more bread (particularly if he has been undernourished). He may start buying his bread at the store rather than making it at home (also saving time and creating leisure), particularly if mass-producing bakeries bring down the cost of bread.

As this man accumulates more money and free time, his wants will change, and he will focus on quality needs. When his desire for bread is satisfied, he will use his extra income to purchase different things. After all, there is only so much bread a man can eat. So maybe he’ll buy butter for the bread. Perhaps he will desire a choice of bread to buy: enriched white, nine-grain, rye, or pumpernickel. Or perhaps he’ll want special breads, maybe fresh baked croissants, bagels, or muffins. As he grows wealthier, and is no longer concerned with basic food, perhaps he’ll adopt a low-carbohydrate diet and realize he no longer wants bread at all, but instead low-sugar, high-protein bars. This is wealth and the beginning of consumer culture: the extra time and money that provides people with a choice of what to consume, and thus, the consumption cycle spins.

In pre-industrial Biological societies, people have few options. They work to simply survive. But as people move along the economic continuum and get to approximately $2,000 per capita per year, what they consume changes. Now, along with food on the table, they can buy a bicycle to go to work versus walking, creating more free time. Moreover, as wages grow another $40 per week—or an additional $2,000 per year—they can buy a telephone, a radio, and maybe a TV, all of which increase their contact with the larger world.

As per-capita annual income ratchets up to the $2,000–4,000 range, demand for durables, or “white goods” like washing machines and refrigerators, increases. At $5,000 and higher, entertainment (CDs, movies, electronics) and banking—along with other financial services—become important because there is money to save. At Material income levels between $10,000–30,000, demand for automobiles and higher quality goods accelerates. Above that, demand for Experiential goods and services—voluntary healthcare and wellness, travel, and many other luxuries—increases.

An analysis of changing consumption patterns reinforces the observations made by Fukuyama about “recognition” needs and by Maslow about personal value and self-worth. Fukuyama argues that economically and politically, open systems are most conducive to achieving recognition by allowing people to freely participate in meaningful social and economic work. A corollary to this process is greater wealth and greater consumption.

Consumption, exemplified by the U.S., is now a universal trend. Whether it’s Chinese families buying their first refrigerator, Bolivians opening their first can of Pepsi, or Poles watching music videos, lifestyle convergence has been vastly accelerated in the past few decades as technology has broken down international barriers. The rise of the consumption leisure lifestyle has been pushed along by the drive for open trade and financial markets, which more governments have recognized (or have been forced to recognize) as required for growth and progress. During the 20^th Century, international trade and capital flows exploded. Fueled by decreasing transportation and communication costs, this resulted in more international interaction and contact than ever before. It made the once luxurious, exotic, and nonindigenous—like pineapples, mahogany, or coffee—common household items in wealthy countries. It also exposed more foreign ideas and cultures to more people than ever before.

International borders have been dissolved through economic agreements such as NAFTA and the EU. NAFTA aggregated a market with more than 350 million people generating $6 trillion in economic activity.^[10] The EU has created a free trade zone of 15 different countries. Flights among Italy, France, Germany, Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg, Portugal, Spain, Denmark, Sweden, and Finland have been considered domestic since October 1997.^[11] The breakdown of borders reinforces the breakdown of cultural barriers. These processes are reinforcing one another in a virtuous cycle, creating more communication between countries, more consumption, and more wealth than ever before.

Fewer borders to economic and cultural exchange create more consumers. The democratization and commodification of culture mean that goods and ideas are exchanged at a rapid pace between countries—flows that go both ways. Not only are American goods popular overseas, but goods from other countries stream into U.S. and European markets as well. The U.S., for example, runs massive trade deficits, importing cars, clothes, toys, and other products from dozens of countries around the world.

What the world is witnessing in this new millennium is a realm of ideas that is growing in acceptance as a way to live. This includes representative, democratic governments that allow people to express their ideas and desires regardless of their income and a free-market economic framework that allows for comparative advantage, technology, and mass production to help reduce labor and costs for goods and services. Free from religious traditions and ideological constraints, such a common “culture” of civil, voluntary production and consumption, and protected, enforceable private property rights has been formed in the last few decades, and shows no signs of reversing. Fukuyama agrees, noting that the wealth creation process helps satisfy “an ever-expanding set of human desires. This process guarantees an increasing homogenization of all human societies, regardless of their history or culture. All countries undergoing economic modernization must increasingly resemble one another; they must unify nationally on the basis of a centralized state, urbanize, and replace traditional forms of social organization like tribe, sect, and family with economically rational ones based on function and efficiency.”^[12]

Perhaps the greatest benefit of the wealth creation process has been the democratization of prosperity for billions beyond subsistence. The phenomenon of driving down production costs has created near-universal access to what were considered luxuries throughout history. While the production side of wealth creation has been well-documented, what about consumption? Do humans have an insatiable appetite for goods?

The general debate over the motivation behind material accumulation and consumption—some say, excessive consumption—was probably first raised by Thomas Veblen in his famous study of late 19^th Century England. “Since the consumption of more expensive goods is an evidence of wealth,” he wrote in his often-quoted 1899 piece “Conspicuous Consumption,” “[buying certain goods] becomes honorific; and conversely, the failure to consume in due quantity and quality becomes a mark of inferiority and demerit.”^[16] Author Harold Perkin echoes Veblen’s observation: “If consumer demand, then, was key to the Industrial Revolution, social emulation was the key to consumer demand.”^[17]

This social emulation theory provides some insights regarding the Biological, Material, and Experiential needs framework. Think of it this way: Once, the only people who could afford to drink real champagne from France were royals and aristocrats. Because of this historic fact, drinking champagne offered a public indication of higher economic and social status. Naturally, to satisfy Maslow’s esteem and status needs, many people aspired to drink champagne as to say, “Yes, I’ve made it. I drink champagne, too, just like the wealthy. Therefore, I should be recognized and treated accordingly.”

Due to wealth creation processes, many people (and not just in France, but all around the world) can actually afford real champagne today. Now there are plenty of inexpensive, fine-tasting sparkling wines available for a few dollars a bottle—essentially the same bubbly stuff—but they are not from France’s Champagne region. Many people can emulate champagne drinking with less expensive sparkling wines from California, Spain, or other countries. Modern free markets have brought the costs down immensely, and yet, these emblems of success still motivate consumers. Perceived status associated with consumption is rooted in human needs for acceptance, esteem, and status. These human needs are why the global economy is so stratified today.

What was once considered “high” culture—particularly literature, music, and the visual arts—has been democratized and blended into the Material life of leisure. Books, theater, dance, music, and many other art forms—once the sole domain of the wealthy—are completely accessible in mass-produced, reproduced forms. Few will get to see the real Mona Lisa in France (although more and more do every year) or have Dutch Masters hanging in their living rooms, but most will see some on TV or decent reproductions in books and magazines. Not everyone can enjoy a live performance of La Traviata in an Italian opera house, or hear Bruce Springsteen sing live at the Meadowlands, but most can have relatively easy access to these experiences on TV or with recorded music and DVDs. Not everyone can afford a Rolls Royce, but a basic automobile—one that provides the same transportation utility as a Rolls—is certainly within reach for many. In 1950, there were only 50 million cars in the world. By 2000, that number had grown to 600 million, and it is estimated to grow to 1.2 billion by 2025.^[18] So now “culture,” or a leisure lifestyle, comes to us neatly delivered and easily accessible; it has been commodified. Dwight Macdonald wrote in 1953: “Mass culture is very, very democratic: it absolutely refuses to discriminate against, or between, anything or anybody.”^[19] If you can afford it, you have earned your recognition.

To truly appreciate the reach of global consumption, keep in mind what it was like when consumption was simply about survival. In Biologically oriented societies, there is little time or resources available for leisure. People quite literally work to live. In 18^th Century Europe and the American colonies, the average person worked every day except Sunday, which was spent at church, according to the strict traditional religious norms of the community. Leisure activities may have included quilting bees for women, socializing at the pub for men, or church outings for families, but not much more.

This is not a condition left wholly in the past. Today in Mali, one of the poorest regions of the world, one family reported that they each spend 112 hours per week working. This translates into 16 hours per day, leaving only 8 hours for sleeping and any other activities. They reported wishing for an irrigation system, a motorcycle, and an enclosed garden, all possessions that would aid in survival, and make life a bit easier.^[20]

As people get wealthier, their needs change: The wishes of that family in Mali may soon grow beyond the enclosed garden and motorcycle and include a car, perhaps a garage, and the ability to go on vacation. Indeed, this has been the trend of the world over the past century. Obviously, the cultural changes of today are vastly different from what they were even 50 years ago. In centuries past, children could look forward to a life similar to that of their parents and grandparents; social and physical mobility had yet to be discovered. Families grew up in small towns and villages and pretty much stayed in the same place their entire lives. Foreign influences and goods were rarities; the sight of a foreign person even more so.

However, the evolution of Biological societies to Material brings wholesale changes in lifestyle. One of the largest trends is urbanization, as people begin to move from farms to factories and offices. In doing so, extended families are left behind. According to the UN, in 1950, only an estimated 17.8% of less developed populations lived in urban centers. By 1975, this figure swelled to 26.8%, growing to nearly 40% by 2000, and it may approach 60% by 2030.^[21] While this process might have taken three to five generations in the West, it might now occur in less than a decade or two in many developing countries—a true lifestyle shock.

As labor migrates to factories, and free time is created in dense urban cities, one can see how cosmopolitan and consumer culture take root: shopping at specialized stores and supermarkets (versus traditional open-air markets), the growing importance of convenience services (laundry, restaurants, etc.), as well as the increased consumption of entertainment (movies, TV, music, etc.). This lifestyle shift creates greater personal interaction with a wider variety of people and tastes than in the older agrarian world. A lifestyle of discount shopping, ATM banking, entertainment, cellular phones, and fast food can easily evolve during this manufacturing/urbanization phase. As a result, what once in agrarian villages may have been considered a luxury, exotic, in bad taste, or even taboo can be seen as mainstream, fashionable, or cool in the new urban setting. This trend is global. In China, there are 95.6 TVs per 100 households, 89.8 in Mexico, 89 in Azerbaijan, and 65 in Algeria.^[22] Blockbuster has opened 2,000 outlets in 26 countries outside the U.S. Tower Records has 70 stores in 15 countries. International sales of software and entertainment products outsold any other U.S. industry, rising to $60 billion by 2000. Stores like IKEA, Wal-Mart, and Costco are now in countries like Mexico, and cell phone density usage in some Asian countries is much higher than in the U.S.

The demand for this cosmopolitan life of leisure and freedom—what Ben Barber has called the “culture of fun”—should not be underestimated. In Romania, the biggest tourist attraction is Southfork ranch, a billion-dollar replica of the one on the 1980s hit TV series Dallas.^[23] Author James Twitchell notes: “One of the most startling aspects of seeing the refugees streaming in from Kosovo was the number of adolescents dressed in Adidas, Nike, and Tommy Hilfiger clothing.”^[24] Even in Afghanistan, one of the most politically and economically isolated countries under the Taliban, large numbers of people still managed to see smuggled copies of the Academy Award-winning film Titanic.^[25] Teenagers all around the world—regardless of their address—dream about flashy convertibles, MP3 players, stylish clothes and hairdos, and pocket money for discretionary treats.

This purported U.S. or Western-style consumption in developing countries—which is arguably a universal phenomenon, experienced first but not exclusively in the West—also reflects the desire of poorer countries to say, “Yes, we’re modernizing, too. We’re making it like the rich First World.” When traveling to developing countries, it’s not unusual to see historic monuments crumbling next to modern shopping complexes. Locals sometimes value going to a mall and stopping for Kentucky Fried Chicken more so than a stroll through a historic neighborhood and eating at a traditional restaurant. Indeed, walk through one of the several newer shopping centers like Plaza Obelisco in Guatemala City, and you will find it vibrant, clean, and full of window-shoppers peering at the latest Calvin Klein or Polo outfits, somewhat resembling suburban mall life in a place like Paramus, New Jersey. While wealthy countries might lament the passing of quaint Third-World life—and the growth of “crass” consumerism—many people in the Biological-to-Material phase view visible consumption as an indication of true progress: more spare time and money to freely spend than ever before.

As more discretionary time and money are earned, social and self-actualizing needs begin to show up more in consumption patterns. The most visible changes are the growing “quality” demands (as defined by Pilzer), moving from utility needs to luxury desires. Our possessions begin to define who we are and what we want to be. This is particularly true in the advanced industrial countries of western Europe and North America, where per-capita income well exceeds $20,000. This stratum is nearing the top of Maslow’s pyramid. With Material needs satisfied, people are seeking more Experiential fulfillment. People toil not merely for survival, but to play and self-actualize.

Modern Materialistic and Experiential consumption and entertainment are remarkably individualistic. In his Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, Harvard professor Robert Putnam notes that between 1980 and 1993, the total number of bowlers in America increased by 10% (to more than 80 million), while league bowling decreased by 40%. While bowling statistics may seem insignificant, the example underscores Putnam’s main argument: that modern life is very individualistic (in his view, to a flaw), people have their own needs, and they want to sate them on their own timetable with little compromise.^[26]

After two generations of unprecedented wealth surges and mass urbanization in which rural populations dropped from 60% to less than 30%, America began a trend toward suburbanization, which was echoed abroad. In 1950, the share of metropolitan area residents who lived in central cities was 57%, but by 1990, this had fallen to 37%. Similar patterns emerged in Europe, whereby cities expanded geographically in Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Paris, and Vienna, but populations living in city centers decreased or only grew marginally. The preference for a suburban lifestyle is a function of widening affluence and the rapidly expanding middle and upper-middle classes since 1950. With wealth comes greater demand for bigger houses, gardens, and the ability to afford cars and commuting. American houses today are some 50% larger than in 1950, with more bedrooms and bathrooms, while household size has decreased by 30%.^[27]

This dwelling trend, however, is being taken to a higher Experiential level, at least in the U.S. In their much-cited book, Fortess America: Gated Communities in America, Blakely and Snyder estimate that nearly 9 million Americans live in 20,000 gated and walled communities, up dramatically from the 1960s.^[28] Moreover, the Community Association Institute estimates that in 2002, there were some 47 million Americans belonging to 231,000 community associations; in 1965, there were only 500 of these private neighborhood organizations. The Blakely and Snyder study notes that gated communities are often clusters of people who value similar things: prestige, an active lifestyle (golf, tennis, etc.), security, control, even a search for “community.” However, the key commonality is their Experiential, “privatized” sense of what they want in terms of police protection, street maintenance, recreation, and entertainment, which public services do not provide. These trends reflect a greater desire for control over our most basic lifestyle issues: where to live, how much space we desire, and who our neighbors might be.

Alchemic quality demands go beyond simply living in a better house and a better neighborhood. In the U.S. and other advanced industrial countries, there has been a major trend toward individualized, high-end specialty goods in virtually every sector, from designer clothes to sport utility vehicles (SUVs). Marketing, of course, has a lot to do with this: selling the lifestyle images that focus groups say they want to emulate and be part of. There are athletic shoes for every type of activity and style sensibility; the amount of money Americans spend on sneakers rivals the GNP of many small nations.

In this world of almost infinite choice, brands play an important role, catering directly to human social and esteem needs. Consumers ultimately decide which products help them define themselves. Consumption critics often argue that our obsession with brands actually limits choice by making us willing victims of marketers.^[29] However, Veblen’s social emulation and conspicuous consumption theory probably doesn’t fully capture the role of leisure in the modern world. The motivation to consume is, and always has been, more complex than anti-consumerists believe. Some of the more interesting modern analyses of human consumption have shown that our material world functions in many ways to produce meaning for individuals. As Cross notes: “Modern people, and especially Americans, communicate to others and to themselves through their goods. The consumer society has not necessarily produced passive people alienated from their true selves, as regularly assumed by traditional critics.”^[30]

The French author and social commentator Pierre Bourdieu has argued that consumption goes beyond basic social emulation theory.^[31] Instead, he argues that consumption is far more driven by the human need to differentiate, whereby individuals strive to actually distinguish themselves from others through materialism, which is the exact opposite position anti-consumerists often take. Jo Dahn argues similarly: “[W]ithin the domestic sphere there exists what might be thought of as a ’landscape’ of objects,” which she calls an “Objectscape.” Dahn believes that the worlds we create—our houses, offices, and the material things we possess—offer “both psychic and practical functions, and forms part of the multi-layered environment that each individual inhabits. The assembling of the Objectscape, and behaviors with regard to it, continues throughout life...[and] can be ’read,’ providing insight as to (for instance) character, or fiscal status.” Dahn notes that “gifts and inherited objects, for example, are both capable of evoking close personal ties... for within the Objectscape there will be many items that stand witness to that network of other people with whom each individual seeks to interact, and whose understanding and approval is an important factor in the process of individual and social self-definition.”^[32]

Indeed, as goods and services have become commodified, the global marketplace has simultaneously grown more specialized. People want certain goods that reflect their own particular personality. We live in a 21^st Century world of infinitely segmented product lines, with prices ranging as widely as individual tastes and aesthetics. Wal-Mart offers blue jeans for less than $12, while Levis sells $20 basic jeans and $110 specialty denim pants. There are $300 basic refrigerators by Kenmore and $10,000 high-tech SubZero refrigeration systems disguised by beautiful cabinetry. DaimlerChrysler manufactures subcompact cars for around $10,000, as well as $400,000 customized Maybach limousines, and dozens of vehicles in between to suit a variety of personal needs, styles, and personalities. People like to distinguish themselves by how unique and independent their needs are. As many are consuming more, they are also trying to consume more individually.

The question that wealthier Material and Experiential people (or what Americans call “middle” and “upper-middle” class) have been asking themselves is: Are we done yet? And the answer, in many cases, is yes. In the post-Material world, people are striving for greater experience and meaning in their lives. Economic and material achievements are no longer the top priorities; rather, they have been displaced by an increasing emphasis on “quality of life” or “wellness.” Many over-consumers have realized that the costs of pursuing excessive wealth may outweigh the benefits in some cases: Some people are working long hours in jobs they despise, spending more money than they make, and gobbling up the earth’s resources at a dizzying rate. They want more free time and less stress, and may be willing to accept less money in the bargain. After all, wealth is supposed to be about freedom, and many people feel chained to the production consumption treadmill. In a recent poll, 69% of Americans said they would like to “slow down and live a more relaxed life,” versus 19% who said they would like a “more exciting, faster-paced life.”^[34]

In an essay on simple living, Duane Elgin identifies some of the main components of the concept: investing time and energy in civic and community programs; spending quality time with family and friends; developing a holistic sense of self, including physical activity; fulfilling emotional and spiritual needs; connecting with the earth and recycling; lowering the patterns of personal consumption; and pursuing a livelihood that reflects these goals and contributes to the world. Many of these components reflect an Experiential mindset.^[35]

Fukuyama also sees this trend: “It is perhaps no accident that in the most [Experiential] part of the U.S., California, one finds the most obsessive pursuit of high-risk leisure activities that have no purpose but to shake the participant out of the comfort of bourgeois existence: rock climbing, hang gliding, skydiving, marathon running, Ironman and Ironwoman races, and so forth. For where traditional forms of struggle like war are not possible, and where widespread material prosperity makes economic struggle unnecessary, [Experiential] individuals begin to search for other kinds of contentless activities that can win them recognition.”^[36]

This is not to suggest that all Experiential-trenders are moving away from consumption and production. Inglehart says these people “do not place a negative value on economic and physical security—they value it positively, like everyone else; but unlike [Materialists], they give even higher priority to self-expression and quality of life.”^[37] Experientials may seek more individual and thoughtful consumption. They may want products that are sensitive to the environment, or customized items that reflect their own particular aesthetic rather than the latest and greatest mass-marketed materials—further adding to the mushrooming marketplace of specialty products.

Although critics charge that Western countries are foisting junk food and shlock entertainment on consumers in the developing world, the reality reflects far more of a cultural exchange than one might expect. Anti-globalists often forget that places like America are vast melting pots of cultural trends and tastes. Immigration to the U.S. over the last 100 years has dramatically altered what constitutes American “culture.” The U.S. is forever borrowing from abroad, whether it’s food (think about pizza, sushi, Chinese take-out, and Taco Bell), fashion (stores filled with European names like Dior, Versace, Prada, and Armani), or entertainment (Harry Potter, Pokemon, John Woo films, and reality-TV shows like Big Brother and Survivor). Most of America’s professional sports leagues are filled with world-class, international-born players. While European immigrants in the early 20^th Century brought many continental tastes to the U.S., one would expect growing Latin and Asian influences over the coming generation to reflect the greater immigration trends and influences from these regions.

In the evolution from a Biological to a Material society, similar patterns emerge. Most societies have strands of traditional sensibilities woven into their modern, more cosmopolitan lifestyles. In India, for example, with the younger generation, “anything American—from DKNY and Nike to Pizza Hut and McDonald’s—is often considered ’cool.’”^[44] But the youth retain their Indian roots in terms of traditional values regarding sex and marriage, for example.

Particularly in the realm of culture and entertainment, remember that the West has experienced three to four generations of mass wealth and leisure, and has created enormous industries around this lifestyle. Entertainment is where many wealthy countries’ comparative advantages currently lie, but this is changing. Entertainment industries are sprouting in developing countries, such as the Bollywood film sector in India (which annually produces some 800 films, considerably more than U.S. production).

Increasingly, there is a broad, international, cultural exchange in entertainment. For example, take one of America’s great multinational operators, Music Television, or MTV. MTV Networks (which also includes VH-1, Nickelodeon, CMT, and BET, among other channels) reaches an estimated 1 billion people in more than 160 countries, and more than 80% of its audience actually lives outside the U.S.

MTV’s great success—creating possibly the most ubiquitous global brand after Coca Cola—is not due to a “push” strategy of playing only U.S.-produced content and showcasing the latest Brittany Spears video. Instead, MTV has developed a policy of broadcasting at least 70% local content into Asia, Africa, Latin America, and eastern Europe; indeed, most global MTV viewers don’t think of MTV as American. The company does not own a record company, leaving itself conflict-free regarding what music it broadcasts. While there were occasional political snafus in MTV’s early global expansion, MTV Networks’ president Bill Roedy has noted that governments around the world have generally welcomed MTV into their entertainment/media communities: “We’ve had very little resistance once we explain that we’re not in the business of exporting American culture.”^[45]

MTV’s success and global acceptance are derived from seeking out local talent such as Spanish-speaking sensation Shakira in Colombia (a multiple Grammy winner in the U.S.) and Alejandro Sanz from Spain and Juanes; Russian performers like t.A.T.u and Alsou; Scandinavian groups like Royksopp, Bofunk MC, and the Hives; and Asian stars like Japan’s Hikaru Utada and China’s Jay Chou, Na Ying, Jolin Tsai, and Adrian Sami. In addition to broadcasting local music, MTV has cultivated specific local programming which is as varied as Rockgol in Brazil (where Brazilian musicians and music execs play soccer), Twelve Angry Viewers in Russia (a talk show), MTV Kitchen (where musicians cook) in Italy, and Conexion, a live show from Mexico broadcast throughout Latin America.^[46] According to one MTV international strategist, the focus on local content is “the only globalization strategy that truly builds value in the long run. MTV wants to cater to the lifestyle of 2–3 billion people globally in the 10–35 age bracket. This is the demographic of high personal consumption on music, clothing, and food. Our job is to help promote and deliver what local consumers want in dozens of local markets, not to tell them what’s worth buying or watching.”

MTV is also focusing on interactive technologies to help drive localized programming. Total Request Live (TRL), whereby listeners call in and choose their favorite videos, is incredibly popular all around the world (perhaps echoing Fukuyama’s universal desire for recognition). The company’s Asia group has also launched something called LiLi (Mandarin for “pretty”), a computer-generated, anime-styled female VJ that viewers can interact with on a real-time basis. LiLi functions in five Asian languages, interviewing local musicians and chit-chatting about popular culture.^[47] Finally, as a testament to how much local programming is being produced, MTV now hosts 11 regional MTV Video Music Award shows around the world annually.

Wealth has produced free time and disposable income, and that combination has led to a consumer-driven, leisure culture in Material and Experiential-trending societies. Globalization has intensified these trends, but it has not resulted in a homogenization of culture; to the contrary, choices available to the consumer are almost infinite. The transforming impact of consumerism is not just material in nature; it is at the heart of the modern human’s need for self-esteem and recognition. In Experiential segments of society, the marketplace extends even further, to choices that are philosophical and self-defining in nature.

But not everyone around the world finds these developments good news. Time and time again, this process of globalization has promoted strong, knee-jerk reactions against the perceived threat of forced assimilation. In Canada and parts of New England, local communities are fighting to keep out the giant Wal-Mart retail chain for fear it will replace traditional, small-town stores. In France, there was staunch cultural opposition to the construction of EuroDisney, tagged “a cultural Chenobyl” by one local Paris newspaper. Both France and South Korea (among others) have quotas on the number of American films that can be screened. In the developing world, protesters have occasionally stormed Pizza Huts and Burger Kings in violent protests of Americanization.

There are people who find these trends so threatening that they are willing to die to stop them. This clash of cultures, or “Jihad versus McWorld,” as Barber called it in 1995, clearly has ramifications for the rest of the world. The advent of mass, instantaneous communications has brought the Biological world increasingly into conflict with more Material and Experiential places. As September 11 demonstrated to most Americans, privileged Materialists and Experientials can no longer sit back and enjoy Big Macs, Levis, and PowerADE without contemplating what such consumption and lifestyles mean for the world, particularly those not yet engaged in the wealth creation process.

But rather than marking the demise of local culture and tradition, cultural cross-fertilization and consumer trends may actually provide the mechanisms for all cultures to thrive. There are billions of children now growing up around the world with a common lifestyle: one of increased leisure, entertainment, individual choice, and fun. As Cross mentions, “Consumerism—the understanding of self in society through goods—has provided on balance a more dynamic and popular, while less destructive, ideology of public life than most political belief systems in the 20^th Century.”^[49] For most of history, the ability to see and experience any foreign lifestyle was an impossibility; today, we can partake of global culture while still maintaining local traditions. The progression of our days may be similar: millions wake, eat, go to school or an office, relax to TV, movies, music, books, magazines, or newspapers, wear clothes chosen for style, and communicate via cell phones or the Internet. But people have more choices than ever before; no one culture or set of traditions has a monopoly on our minds or wallets.

The progression into this wealthier world of leisure and choice is slow for many, but it is happening. Chinese in the 21^st Century care far more about individual consumerism than Mao, and the Russians tossed away Marx and Lenin more than a decade ago. The leisure culture of today is a contemporary “Esperanto,” a second language that allows people all over the globe to communicate, yet at the same time preserve their own languages and cultural identities.