My parents considered themselves members of the ‘upper-middle class’, and took pains to ensure that we children understood that. I’m not sure I ever did, though, although we were neither rich nor poor.
Most of my growing-up years were spent in a modest, suburban home, on a standard-sized lot, in a neighbourhood of similar families, none of whom had everything they might have wished for. I was ten years old before we acquired our first black-and- white television set, for example; I was sixteen before we got our first car, a ten-year-old British import handed down from my grandfather. As a matter of fact, hand-me-downs were integral to our lives.
We knew there were lots of families who had more material wealth than we did, but they didn’t live in our community. Their homes were larger and boasted swimming pools, two-car garages, and paved driveways, with proper kerbs, not ditches, lining their streets. We knew there were people with far less than we had, too, but we would encounter them only infrequently, and were taught it was best to avoid them.
So we did realize, I suppose, that we were in the middle between the rich and the poor, between the so-called upper and lower classes. But the finer distinctions within this middle class were lost on us. It mattered not that one kid’s father drove a bus, while another’s worked in an office. No one cared if somebody’s mother had a job, while another’s was a stay-at-home Mum. Blue-collar and white-collar meant nothing to us. Knowing we were loved and safe was all that mattered.
As an old rock song attested, …Here [we were], stuck in the middle with you.
One of my grandmothers used to sing an old British pub-song, in a fake Cockney accent, to the great amusement of her grandchildren, and it seemed to reinforce the fact that we were solidly and safely middle-class—
It’s the rich wot gets the pleasure,
It’s the poor wot gets the blame,
‘Tis the same the ‘ole world over,
I’n’t it a bloomin’ shame!
Mind you, as we grew older, we were encouraged—strenuously—to strive for as much as we could get, to never be satisfied with less. It was important, we were taught, to pursue an education; to find, not a job, but a career; to plan for the future; in short, to rise above our station in life.
Inevitably, some of us took that advice, and some of us did not.
Today, I’m led to believe by pundits and prophets that the middle class is disappearing as the wealth-gap widens between the rich and the poor—or, perhaps more accurately, between the few rich and the multitudinous poor. I admit it’s hard for me to comprehend that, because I’ve never been either fabulously rich or ruinously poor. Being in the middle has always seemed a good place to be.
I recently finished an interesting book—Sapiens, by Yuval Noah Harari—that delves into why, despite a professed passion for equity and fairness in our modern, liberal society, our species continues to divide ourselves into castes—cultural, religious, and economic. I’m about to begin a sequel, Homo Deus, which looks at where we are likely headed. Harari does not paint a rosy picture.
An overly-simplified conclusion I am drawing from this reading (as one ensconced in our privileged, first-world setting) is that some people appear comfortable with their lot, no matter how mundane it may be, apparently satisfied so long as their basic needs are met. Others, fewer in number, do not accept that status quo, and try to break new trails. Some plod along their life-journey, eyes cast on the path beneath their feet (or, more likely, on the smartphone in their hands), while others, more curious, more ambitious, look for alternate routes to follow, even if that means foregoing some of the more immediate gratification they might otherwise enjoy. Sort of like the proverb of the grasshopper and the ant.
But why do we make the choices we do? Why are some of us seemingly content to muddle along in what I might call a state of arrested development—consumed by our electronic gadgets and devices, immersed in our own narrow worlds, uninterested in the broader issues of our time, and desperate to believe we are going to be looked after?
Looked after by whom? The rich?
A new ruling class of people—those who rouse themselves to effort and endeavour, who pay attention to what is happening around them and in the wider world, and who consciously think about the consequences of their actions—is rapidly moving ahead of its less-diligent cohort. And the space between them—call it intellectual-gap or achievement-gap—will only exacerbate the wealth-gap we publicly decry.
Recent studies are demonstrating that an over-dependence on electronic gadgetry, an inability to pry oneself away from those seductive pixels of delight, is changing the human brain’s learning patterns. And not for the better. In its extreme, this change will render addicted users incapable of thinking for themselves, dooming them to a dreary lifetime of mindless, eight-second sound-bites and 280-character communications. In virtual servitude to those who rise above.
It hearkens back to the maxim of Roman times, the trick to keeping the rabble in their place—Give them their bread and circuses. Already there are disturbing signs that much of the populace cares for not much more. And technology has provided it to them in the palms of their hands.
The day may or may not come when all of us will live out our daily existence like so many drones and worker bees, ruled by entities possessed of artificial intelligence. That remains to be seen. But until that day, it is almost a certainty that the strivers among us will assert dominion over the slackers—a triumph of directed, purposeful intellect over superficial intelligence.
Given all this, I would change the words to my grandmother’s ditty—
It’s the thinkers and strivers wot will get the pleasure,
It’s the complacent plodders wot will get the blame…
Robotics and AI seem to be a looming part of our future. They are arriving at a daily unheralded pace. It seems to me that these two factors alone will guarantee a major restructuring of our society in terms of who receives ‘wot’. When one considers that robotics may make decisions on the value of any robotically produced object highly questioned, and all that that entails, the fate of any of the ‘classes’ be they ‘rich’, ‘poor’ or anything in between, may also be up for an inquisition of some length. It is also the nature of the future these days that we won’t have to wait too long!
Many thanks for your interesting essay. Funnily enough I found out recently in applying for a new passport that I was born at Twyford Lodge, a euphemism for the poor house! When I was 10 the kids next door had a TV, I had to wait til I was 13, and living by then in Canada. As a youngster I lived on a ‘council estate’ another euphemism for being part of the working poor. Deligence and hard work have since then made a discernable difference but I still drive by the houses of the very rich, after having worked exceedingly hard all my life, and wonder how they came by all that huge amount of money! So in truth it likely still is ‘the rich wot gets the pleasure’.
For sure, the pace of change is accelerating, and we may be closer than we think to the AI reality making decisions in our everyday lives. I wonder if the sapiens brain has a limit?
Thanks for adding to the conversation.
You are so right because when we all grew up we thought we were all the same . I grew up in the very small town of Paris , On. and my dad was the only dentist in town so they all thought we were rich !!!! What most people did not know was that my dad was one of a kind and he often did not take money for his work but a dozen eggs or an apple pie was all he wanted . Needless to say my mom was not happy with this . Hope your dear wife Donna is doing well . We are ok but Don does have his good and bad days but we are so pleased to be out of the cold weather up there . It has been cold here but we are managing ok . Just put on an extra sweater and jacket . Take care
Thanks for commenting, Carol…..enjoy the sunny south!
VERY INTERESTING THOUGHTS
Glad you enjoyed them!