In the mid-1840s, a trip from New York to California took
over half a year either by wagon or by sailing ship. Your odds
of dying on the way were roughly one in five. Then in 1869 there
came a capitalist masterpiece, the transcontinental railway,
that snipped the trip down to a week. In the twentieth century,
capitalism gave the average citizen jet wings and slivered the
New York to LA trip from roughly one hundred hours down to
five.
The Western system accomplished in three hundred years what
it would have taken evolution over three hundred million to
achieve—it gave us the equivalent of new arms, legs, ears,
eyes, and brains.
No other civilization in the history of this
planet—not the Egyptian, the Roman, the Muslim, the
Chinese, or the twentieth-century Marxist Russian—has ever
come close to lifting the downtrodden in these ways. None has
ever done so much to elevate, empower, and create a brand-new
category of humanity, a brand-new niche of comfort and
prosperity: a massive and productive middle class.
The middle class is an economy-and-culture engine that even
Karl Marx, in his Communist Manifesto, praised for creating
“wonders far surpassing Egyptian pyramids, Roman
aqueducts, and Gothic cathedrals.” Yes, the same Karl Marx
who hated the middle class. The same Karl Marx who turned the
word for middle class into a curse word: the
“bourgeoisie.”
But the middle class is something we usually don't
notice—a sea of humans the Western system has raised from
the ranks of the downtrodden . . . and has uplifted permanently.
How have the Western system and its sidekick, capitalism, pulled
off deeds of this magnitude? How has the Western system done it
without really knowing its own nature? And if capitalism is such
a miracle worker, why does it need a radical upgrade?
Because while the West does far more than it gets credit
for, that's nothing compared to what it can ultimately achieve.
Yes, the capitalist system has performed its share of
miracles—and its share of atrocities. The Triangle
Shirtwaist Fire in New York City in 1911 killed 146
women—most of them younger than twenty-three years
old—in less than fifteen minutes. In 1984, a nighttime
leak of forty tons of methyl isocyanate gas from a Union Carbide
pesticide factory in Bhopal, India, sent a toxic cloud crawling
across a forty-square-kilometer residential area housing half a
million people. The result was death for 28,000 and lasting
illness for another 120,000. And by 2001, one Texas company,
Clear Channel Communications, Inc., had offices in 63 countries
and owned 1,200 radio stations; 135 clubs, theaters, arenas, and
stadiums; 19 television stations; and 770,000 outdoor
advertising displays. In 2004, Clear Channel was on the verge of
bridging the gap from the free market to monopoly and was
capable of determining what information you and I do and do not
get to see.
THE POWER OF MESSIANIC CAPITALISM
We have to retell the history of Western civilization in
a way that hints at the rich ore beneath the slopes and plains
of our history's terrain. We have to peel back the lumpy outer
skin of capitalism and show the beating heart within. A
semi-brain-dead capitalism has given vast new powers to
humanity—powers like the ability to light our homes at
night with electricity and add five hours a day to the normal
human's waking life. A capitalism that knows its mission, a
capitalism propelled by the troika of empathy, passion, and
reason, can work far greater wonders.
Imagine what it would be like if at every staff meeting you
were expected to put the care of the multitudes we mistakenly
call “consumers” first. Imagine what it would be
like to go to work each morning in a company that saw your
passions as your greatest engines, your curiosities as your
fuel, and your idealisms as the pistons of your labors and of
your soul. Imagine what it would be like if your superiors told
you that the ultimate challenge was to tune your empathic
abilities so you could sense the needs of your firm's customers
even before those customers knew quite what they hankered after.
Imagine what it would be like if your superiors asked you to do
what artists and psychics do—find your hidden selves in
the hidden hungers of those you serve. There is an implicit code
by which we in the Western system live—a code that demands
that we uplift each other . . . and that we do it globally.
The “human resources” creed—the
real business of business—should be one that
comes from the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay:
A man was starving in Capri;
He moved his eyes and looked at me;
I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
And knew his hunger as my own.
Mine every greed, mine every lust.
And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief.
The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,
No higher than the soul is high.
People are the ones who demand. We do it because we
desire, we hanker, we hunger, we're eager, we're roused. Or
we're deadened, we're hurt, we're unsatisfied, we need.
Consumerism—that wretched sin—isn't what it seems.
Capitalism is what we do each day, and it can generate in our
daily lives and in the place we work the exuberance of
satisfying others, the exhilaration of feeling wanted, the
elation of creativity, and the knowledge that we've contributed
to something far, far bigger than ourselves.
We desperately need a reinvention and a re-perception of the
system that has given Western civilization its long-term strength and its recent weaknesses. We need to wake up capitalism to its mission—a set of moral imperatives and heroic demands that are implicit in the Western way of life. By reinventing capitalism and injecting our own souls into the machine, you and I can raise the bar of human possibility.
We stand at a choice point in history. We can wake up and smell the coffee of our civilization—its pep, its drive, and its power to add to human lives. We can see the ideals and the creative imperatives that capitalism now hides. Or we can go with the flow of the current zeitgeist and condemn all that we have as mere consumerist trash and every workday move we make as an attempt to pick the pockets of the poor. If we fail to see the force of secular salvation, the power of messianic capitalism, in what we do each day, then we will yield the planet up to those who insist on taking the Western system's transformative powers away.
Howard Bloom, a recent visiting scholar at the
Graduate Psychology Department at New York
University and a Core Faculty Member at The
Graduate Institute, is the author of two books: The Lucifer Principle: A Scientific Expedition into the Forces of History and Global Brain: The Evolution of Mass
Mind from the Big Bang to the 21st Century.