Buying into Culture

Glorious, sparkling waterfalls. Clear blue water. The hot sun is beating down on my UV-desperate back. The children are giggling and splashing each other. I pull out my book, ready to dive into the next climactic chapter. Is this paradise?

But then . . . I hear C&C Music Factory blaring over the speakers. Reality kicks in.

Look to the right, overflowing trash cans exuding a putrid stench of grease and stale diapers. Tubby, obese men and women wearing the most unflattering swimwear. They are stuck in their appropriately-shaped donut floaters and oozing down a man-made river full of used band-aids and Styrofoam cups.

To the left, a middle-aged mother with an unnatural tan, gold loop earrings, diamond studded shades, and a leopard print fedora. She reminds me conspicuously of Celia Hodes from the television series "Weeds". Diligently, she flirts with the lifeguard while her husband sizzles soma-like in the heat, her children drowning each other in the kitty pool.

I am stricken with the idea of how much money and water must be used to keep this park open: the water slides, the rides, and the makeshift wave pool. The resources it must take to keep the gears of this place turning and (somewhat) clean, day-in and day-out. All of that sustainable effort . . . for an over-priced simulation that drained every dollar from my pocket on fatty foods and cheap souvenirs.

So, when I take my son to the bathroom whose floor has turned into a muddy paste of urine and chlorine, I quietly promise myself: never again.

It’s not that I am against entertainment. Far from it! I’m a sort of bard at heart; nothing pleases me more than being sucked away into a fantasy la-la land full of cotton candy clowns and operatic crescendos. To me, the quality of a society’s entertainment is the pinnacle identifier of its evolutionary process. We work hard to gain more leisure time (supposedly) . . . then, what do we do to entertain ourselves in said leisure time? This is the blossoming point for art, music, literature, and the visionary catalyst for cultural advancement.

In short, imagination is the measuring tool for success!

So, as I lounge in the cracked and sticky lawn chair of the (unnamed) amusement park, observing humanity at its most indulgent, I pondered: is this it? Is this what we’ve worked so hard for?

There is one painstakingly apparent observation that quietly percolates in the back of my head as I chew on this question. Me and everyone else in this frantic milieu is participating in a façade, an illusion specifically designed to keep us here, entranced, and spilling our pennies. Yes, I said DESIGNED!

NOTE: For those rolling-eyed skeptics thinking you just happened onto a hippie’s rant against the “system”, think again! You might be surprised . . .

One of my favorite philosophers, French poststructuralist Jean Baudrillard, presents a fascinating discussion on symbols, mass-production, and ideology. His text "Simulacra and Simulation" illustrates that reality in modern society has been replaced with a veil of abstraction. In essence, what we actually perceive is a simulation of symbols (manufactured by culture and media) that represent reality; we do not actually perceive reality itself.

What does this mean? A popular example would be a reality television show. It purports to be the "real" life of a set of individuals in whatever setting (game show, home life, etc.). However, what we are watching on our end of the screen is different than what is really going on. The behind-the-scenes, off-camera moments are not captured in the final presentation; neither is the individual holding the camera, the microphones, and so on. As well, the captured footage is then edited and spliced to fit into a standard time-frame (conforming to commercial breaks). What we are viewing is not “reality” television. A whole process has ensued to deliver a final product that is far removed than the actual circumstance.

In other words, there is a layer of abstraction between the viewer and that which is being viewed. Nothing wrong with that; that’s just the way it is.

Baudrillard presents this idea in the context of the amusement park setting, specifically Disneyland. His critique centers on the fantastical imagery of Disneyland. He states: "Disneyland is presented as imaginary in order to make us believe that the rest is real, whereas Los Angeles and the America that surrounds it are no longer real, but belong to the hyperreal order and to the order of simulation. It is no longer a question of a false representation of reality (ideology) but of concealing the fact that the real is no longer real, and thus of saving the reality principle."

In a nutshell, the imagery of the fantastic replaces the imagery of the real, concealing it from perception. Baudrillard asserts that this is the function of Disneyland and other such amusement parks, to serve as a distraction to what truly "is happening."

To me, this does not imply an elaborate government cover-up. The C.I.A. did not invent Disneyland to distract from Bay of Pigs (although I betcha there’s enough credible evidence to suggest otherwise). But it does suggest a deliberate smoke screen approach to the populace.

Take my experience at (unnamed) amusement park. My two kids and I walk up to the admissions booth. “One adult pass and two kids please,” I say. The gruff teller on the other side shakes her head in deliberation.

“She’s an adult,” she points to my daughter.

Clearly this human being is deranged, so politely I assure her my daughter is only seven years old and just entering second grade. My little girl could not possibly be an adult.

The teller points to a measuring stick on the outside of the booth. “Too tall,” she grumbles. “She’s an adult.”

So, because my daughter’s height reached an inch over a stick, I was charged adult prices for a seven year old! What is striking is the amount of pressure involved in such a situation: I cannot possibly deny paying for the over-priced ticket. They have me hooked! My kids had been promised this trip for weeks; the drive was an hour one way. After carrying all of our beach bags and boogie boards across the scorching parking lot, what else could I do?

Then, they have you! For instance, can’t use the boogie boards we brought because of their "transparency rule" for floating devices . . . . Of course, the only way you can get a see-through floater is by paying them for a rental. Then, the food! Six dollars for a mini-funnel cake, three dollars for bottled water. Phenomenal and outrageous! The kids and I barely eked away on $30, not including the $10 dollars just for parking. Prepared to have the most economically efficient day in amusement park history, the place bled our bank account of over $100 in only four hours. The amusement park was designed to trap me into spending as much money as possible.

And, somehow, the kids and I felt like we needed this!

Like Baudrillard, I believe there is a veil concealing the true nature of reality caused by our media-saturated culture. Not necessarily a bad thing in itself. But, dishonest nevertheless, when a family is watching their budget and gets conned into spending more than they should or need to. We’ve left the power in the hands of corporations and that’s what corporations do. They advertise, they throw symbols at you to get you to buy things, and then they build it cheaply so it will break and you have to buy more. It’s an age-old trick (for more read Douglas Rushkoff’s book "Life, Inc." or watch Annie Leonard’s web-based documentary "The Story of Stuff" at http://www.storyofstuff.com/).

There is a Populuxe film I show in one of my classes to illustrate the modern concept of Futurism: the crave for all that is new. Called "American Look," it emulates the American style as defined by the automotive and interior design products sold by General Motors. It definitely characterizes the ideal of American citizenry as being a laborious consumer. The students get a feel as to the value system adopted by the U.S. in order to promote economic development in post-World War II.

Our lives are in the hands of a select few who have convinced us there is only one way to live: you must have a phone, you must have the new HDTV, you must watch this show every Tuesday night, you must have this brand of shoes! I wouldn’t feel so bad about that if there was a variety of competition. But, fact of the matter is, there isn’t. I’ve traveled to almost every state in the U.S. and most every city carries the same brands, the same stores. Even our food, as portrayed in the new documentary film "Food, Inc." (see a trend here?) is manufactured by only a paltry handful of companies. For instance, the Monsanto Company is practically the sole producer of genetically engineered seed, aggressively weeding out independent farmers through snide litigation practices. When I walk into the grocery store, I may feel like I am getting a variety of produce; though the majority of it comes from one source. Therefore, I have little choice, especially when it is the cheapest option available.

There is one ditty of hope that rang true when my wife and I walked somberly out of the local screening of "Food, Inc." We do have power. And guess what . . . it’s not the power of voting! It’s the power of BUYING!

Every purchase we make creates the reality of whether or not companies like Monsanto continue to monopolize the food industry. Every purchase decides whether or not money-sucking amusement parks stay open or not. Or these purchases decided whether or not our local farmers and businesses stay open. I vote by what I buy. If I spend my money at the farmer’s market that puts less dollars in Monsanto’s pocket, less money for them to terrorize the farming industry.

I remember a lecture from cosmologist Brian Swimme, in which he relates the spiritual fulfillment of a child of today to a child hundreds, even thousands of years ago. Back then, a child was nourished by campfires, stories of myth, and the limitless imagination of the stars. Today? Commercials and bad pop music. I feel ashamed!

Then, I remember a quote from singer Zack de la Rocha: “If today I had a young mind to direct, to start on the journey of life, and I was faced with the duty of choosing between the natural way of my forefathers and that of the... present way of civilization, I would, for its welfare, unhesitatingly set that child's feet in the path of my forefathers. I would raise him to be an Indian!”

My wife recently sparked the idea for our household to transition from an energy-draining, corporatized suburban household to a localized, sustainable one. It will take a lot of time and effort, but I think my recent trip to the water park has cemented my stance on this notion. We have already lived without television for almost four years. What’s next? Hopefully, we will spend the next few years documenting this process: ways to grow our own food, ways to collect rain water, supporting the local economy, troubleshooting ways to turn our neighborhood into its own sustainable community.

We all have to ask ourselves: what kind of value system do we support by paying a day’s wages to a corporation whose primary concern is not our children, family members, cost of health insurance, or neighborhood crime rate?

In short, what kind of culture do we want to buy into?