Being penniless sucks! But emerging research findings are proving to us that having no money can be a good bus to ride. We do not necessarily sulk into a corner of affliction when the money goes, even though there are things we might lack. Psychologists say that money mostly pushes us into solitude. It changes our behavior towards others, making us want to be self sufficient and “free of dependency and dependents.”
David Brooks, an author, defines the diminishing returns of luxury living this way: “Often, as we spend more on something, what we gain in privacy and elegance we lose in spontaneous sociability.” There is an addiction to solitude and a push away from the rest when money is in plenty. We indulge with friends of course, but if you were to look around, you will notice that most leisure activities for the rich are done in solitude, or with a handful of likewise friends. Playing golf would be a good example.
In one of his articles, David Brooks tells a tale of one of his visits to Tanzania and Kenya, where he stayed in seven camps. Some were simple without electricity or running water, while others were elegant. He found the simple camps very warm and familial. Members of staff joined him for a game of soccer, and in another camp, he had spear-throwing competitions with the kitchen staff. However, in the elegant camps, to each, there was his and only his. No one interacted with anyone else. Even the families staying in the camps did not bother to know each other. Everyone appreciates a ‘how are you doing’ once in a while. No one likes a cold shoulder. David describes his experience at the inelegant camps as ‘haimish’, – warmth, domesticity and unpretentious conviviality.
It might be unfair to generalize David’s experience, or to attempt to plaster it on our eyes and use it as lenses. But David does have a point. What we want to purchase with money mostly, other than just the basic, is luxury. I find nothing wrong with luxury, but it pushes us away from a natural aspect of being a human being – sociability. No matter how much we are trying to stay away from the noise and buy our way into privacy and refinement, there is always that nudge- a need for people to fill a void in us. If you look around you, there is that rich folk who, despite the money, is struggling to compensate for the lack of people around him. Sometimes, he will go to the extent of buying off friends.
Do not get me wrong. I have no issues with money. I like a new shoe once in a while. I wouldn’t mind affording a trip to Abu Dhabi every now and then. However, I’d enjoy my trip to Abu Dhabi better if I got to go there with my friends. I wouldn’t want to go there and stay in a solitary cottage, ‘discovering myself’ as the lovers of solitude call it. As David Brooks puts it in his article, when we go to the ‘excluded’ places, most of what we remember is ‘the who’- the people we came into contact with. It is not the things. It is the experiences. Experiences are often ‘people-based’. You will most likely remember the stranger you had a conversation with on a street in Malindi or at the beach, than the room you were staying in.
So where does that leave us? It leaves us with the warm feeling- that even though we might lose on money, its absence brings with it something that money mostly takes away. And that is a consolation for many. Money is good. It buys you nice things like gadgets, most of which have replaced the roles previously played by dogs, cats and friends. This is not an issue of whether money makes you happier of less. It is about the unsociability that money creates, and how lack of it draws people to one another. More money is of course what we all want. You wouldn’t say no to a million dollars if someone offered. But we might have to part with one to have the other.