The Cage of Desire (excerpt)
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The flood of marketed desire that we experience daily began in the US at the turn of the 20th century. The new machinery of the industrial revolution had dramatically increased productive capacity, and for the first time producers of goods were consistently able to out-produce demand. One New York Times article at the time called it “need saturation”; industry could now produce in a few months what would satisfy demand for a full year.
This worried the captains of industry, who saw idle capacity as wasted money and feared a radicalized working class. They sought new ways to entice people’s needs and spending. Political leaders feared the mob of a dissatisfied public, and sought new ways to pacify and defang the masses, and entrench their own appeal.
Concurrently, the field of psychoanalysis was experiencing its formation in the work of Sigmund Freud. Freud’s main thrust was his suggestion that there are hidden, unconscious desires that drive individuals. His work would be used to explain the discontent of the masses of the Russian Revolution and the frenzied stock crash of 1929. The implied warning: satisfy the public’s desires or face instability, violence and chaos.
Freud’s American nephew, Edward Bernays, is today often referred to as the progenitor of the public relations industry. Using his uncle’s discovery of the unconscious, Bernays began crafting new marketing messages based not upon functionality or product attributes, but upon how whatever he was selling could indulge a person’s ego, or make them feel good about themselves. For example, he would sell a screwdriver not by talking about its effectiveness at driving screws, but rather by showing how a person might feel using it: helpful, productive, handy, or “more of a man.”
By the late 1920s, thanks largely to the work of Bernays and company, the demand problem was nearly solved. Industry was kept busy and the masses were pacified by the consistent manufacture and delivery of consumer desires. In 1927 one journalist wrote: “A change has come over our democracy. It is called Consumptionism. The American citizen’s first importance to his country is no longer that of citizen but that of consumer.” One year later, President Hoover addressed leaders of industry: “You have taken over the job of creating desire and have transformed people into constantly moving happiness machines, machines which have become the key to economic progress…. By advertising and other promotional devices…we have a boundless field before us; that there are new wants which will make way endlessly for newer wants, as fast as they are satisfied.”
Thus, the cage of desire, in its crude initial form, was constructed—with the willing, often eager, participation of the American consuming public.
By the 1960s the game was changing. People had become critical of the establishment, of any establishment. They no longer saw conformity as therapeutic; conformity repressed exactly what needed to be set free. Unhappiness did not arise out of an inability to repress one’s inner urges; unhappiness was, in fact, caused, and made worse, by the repression that was being pushed as the cure.
Thus, the marketing atmosphere that emerged from the 60s had become one of feeding and indulging desires; the era of merely repressing or controlling desires was at an end. New production efficiencies, brought on by computerized machinery, embraced the challenge posed by indulging spontaneous desires.
This gave the illusion of greater liberation, of greater personal expression, through a multitude of products. But, I ask you, is it truly freedom? Or is it the same passive reactivity, with simply more choices to choose from?
This emphasis on shallow personal satisfaction is foolish at best, criminal and manipulative at worst, in that it rarely makes even an effort to plumb the depths of our true longing, giving us instead a multitude of false gods to follow home. Sometimes we are hoodwinked by false pretenses. Other times, however, we know false gods for what they are, and yet we are simply too scared or too comfortable to disrupt this system, this expansive history that informs our identity. We stand frozen in view of our investments, despite our ongoing pain. We unwittingly rationalize the consistent denial of compassion in the name of personal satisfaction. We grant permission for selfishness because someone somewhere told us that this is the way it has always been done; it is inherent in the original design, in our original design.
Religious community is a place where we are called to explore our natural desires as individuals, to organize for their common pursuit, and to find mutual support in our daily struggles for authenticity. The prevalence of marketed desire simply makes more valuable, and more necessary, a kind of relationship that is free of coercion, that elevates compassion beyond personal identity and common good above individualism. A kind of bond that discerns natural desires from marketed desires, a kind of company that will stand with you, maladjusted still to the cages that remain. We can be a crucible for one another’s endless formation, if only we are brave enough to remain awake ourselves.
Springfield, Massachusetts. Jason grew up attending UU congregations in New Jersey and
Virginia. Prior to arriving in Springfield, Jason served vibrant congregations in Wisconsin,
Minnesota, and New Jersey. Jason holds a Master of Divinity degree with a concentration in
social ethics from Union Theological Seminary in New York City. His pastoral education was at
Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. He is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry degree
at Hartford Seminary.
At Hartford Seminary, Jason is studying societal trends and attitudes about religion, and their
impacts on congregational life and vitality. Recently, Jason was invited by his peers to serve as
President of the Interfaith Council of Greater Springfield, a collaborative effort of local clergy
and congregations allied to promote peace, healthy communities, and mutual understanding.
Jason believes deeply in the loving and liberating promise of liberal religion to improve lives
and transform society. And he feels deeply grateful to serve such a kind, courageous, and
creative congregation in Springfield.
Jason plays trombone. One of his favorite projects was playing with King Chango, a bilingual
ska-reggae band based in New York City. Jason’s professional interests include: arts &
worship, interfaith dialog, anti-racism & social justice, and youth ministry. Jason also enjoys
used books, vinyl records, and many sports. A lifelong UU originally from New Jersey, Jason
lives in Springfield with his wife, Jen, and their two sons, Jonny and JJ.
- The Cage of Desire (excerpt) - March 1, 2019
