While flipping through the television channels last night, I happened upon a revival of the 1980's mega-hit "Dallas". TNT has relaunched the franchise, utilizing a few of the original characters, most notably J.R. Ewing and his brother Bobby, both played by their original actors.
"Dallas" is a parable about the eternal battle between good and evil. Set in Texas, it serves as a modern day western of sorts, with the character of J.R. decked out in the proverbial black hat, basically a living composite of the seven deadly sins cloaked by a smooth, sinister exterior. He is heir to land, oil leases, cattle. All the spoils of the great American manifest destiny. He has done little himself to earn these riches, but will do virtually anything to keep them. His brother Bobby, sporting the white hat, is also an heir to this life. But by contrast, he has a conscience. He cares about the land. The environment. His family. He wants the Ewing money to be used for the greater good rather than for mere personal enrichment. And so the series explores their many battles. The plot devices are nothing spectacular, but the show was a ratings blockbuster in its time.
Flash forward twenty five years and the brothers are still at odds. The stories updated for a modern take on the use of oil versus alternative energy. The drama still campy and over the top. A guilty pleasure of sorts. But what I found most interesting about revisiting these characters at this moment in time, is exploration of the concept of obtaining and maintaining wealth through property ownership. The characters ownership of the fictional "Southfork Ranch" situated on the outskirts of Dallas, continues to be a lynchpin of the plot. The brothers fight about who owns it, who will inherit it, what to do with it, whether it should be used for commercial purposes or preserved as a landmark. The characters feel emotional ties to the land, albeit for different reasons. Much like "Tara" in "Gone With The Wind", this land, and the many things it provides, is the cornerstone of the family identity.
This concept of land entitlement is so intrinsic to American culture, it is fair to say that without it, we may not even be here today. We all know that a basic premise of our heritage is exploration. Our forefathers came to this country in search of new frontiers. We, as Americans, continued to expand our borders from sea to shining sea. And then some. And along the way, we found gold. Oil. Coal. Timber. Soil. Water. We took whatever the land had to offer and made use of it. Some of it righteous, some of it exploitative. Our population grew. And as urban centers developed, it became necessary for survival that families have permanent housing. We formed communities. States. Became more organized. Central to this transition from a more nomadic populace of covered wagon pioneers to nine-to-fivers driving automobiles to work; was the concept of private, non-commercial land ownership. For most Americans of my generation and older, home ownership has been a basic right of passage. A non-negotiable part of the American dream. A point of pride. Your domain wherein you could expect safety from the outside world. Privacy. A place to nurture your children and pets. For many, land ownership represents his or her life's work, whether it be because the land is used to earn a living, or because large portions of ones acquired income are invested in the home. This has been an expectation. A birthright.
Of course in 2012, we as individuals have had to rethink this scenario. For millions, this land we once called home and took private ownership of, has changed hands. The security we once felt in making that monthly mortgage payment or walking in the front door after a hard day's work to take stock of all the things we have procured, neatly collected in one cozy abode, was shattered. There are many theories as to why this has happened, ranging from simple concepts such as the fact that Americans are greedy and began to leverage their prized secure possessions in order to gain liquidity in other areas of their lives; to more complex ideas involving banking, derivatives, and general market volatility. There is also the theory that many people who acquired homes over the past fifteen years were not qualified to be home owners, and should have remained renters. That theory espouses that these displaced people are now merely back where they belonged in the first place. No matter where you lay the blame, it is clear that the idea of a persons home as a sanctuary is no longer part and parcel of the American dream. In Phoenix, where I live part time, the glut of new homes is staggering. Unfinished projects line the desert in such a profound way, you can't tell if they were simply left undone, or destroyed after completion in some kind of futuristic apocalypse. And in a way, it HAS been apocalyptic. Not only have people been displaced from their residences, the construction business and all of its supporting players such as: interior design, home furnishings, art, pool and landscape service, housekeeping, and real estate sales have also plummeted along with the ousted tenants. Peoples lives have become the living embodiment of inflation. Paying higher prices for lower value. A family that once had a 1000 mortgage payment used to build equity in a four bedroom home is now forced to pay 1250 to a landlord for a three bedroom home in the same city, acquiring no equity. No security. No ownership.
As is always the case during a period of transition, the immediate natural response is fear. People tend to cling to what they know. And property ownership is what modern Americans know. So people are nervous. They are upset because in many cases, the asset that people once relied on as immutable and constant is now gone. Land ownership has reverted to the government, banks and large companies or landlords and developers who own multiple properties. This lack of individual ownership makes people feel out of control. They are resentful to have to give their hard earned money to someone when the only expected return is a place to stay. Not a place to live. A place to stay. This is unnerving. It seems like a step backwards.
Initially, the concept of reviving a television juggernaut whose plot turns on the axis of wealth and gentrification seemed odd to me when I contrasted it with the current state of economic affairs. Yet I watched it. And I found myself caught up in the story. One brother wants to use the land to maintain the status quo, drill for oil, keep the money rolling in at all costs. The other is interested in selling the land to a preservationist and using the proceeds to explore the idea of alternative energy. A surprisingly poignant and topical story for a soap opera, actually. I began to think about the interconnectedness that we as Americans feel with our homes. The safety and security they provide. I began to think about the many homeless people in this country and the fact that they are by definition always going to be disenfranchised in a society built on land ownership. I thought about the fact that the earliest forms of our constitution had land ownership and voting rights inextricably linked. The more I thought about these things, the more clear it became to me that what is happening right now, while certainly difficult in the short term, may provide us with an opportunity that we were all missing a decade ago when we were buying dining room sets and riding lawnmowers.
The opportunity to break with the conventional idea of wealth building through land and tactile resource ownership, and instead focus on more creative, intuitive solutions to larger problems.
When I thought about it, I realized that this message of sacrificing your home is the message of the new "Dallas." Granted, these are fictional characters of extraordinary means. But this story is heavy in metaphor. The oil on the property represents a staid, non-progressive (albeit profitable) resource. The alternative energy development, by contrast, represents the future and freedom from our current enslavement to oil and gas. In order to move forward and fund the progressive project, the Ewings must give up their home. They aren't going to be out on the street, because that wouldn't be any fun and, hey, this is cable television. But they have to give up their home, nonetheless. This is the sacrifice one brother is willing to make for the idea of a better future for the aggregate. While most Americans who have lost ownership of their homes were not left in a positive financial position, one thing that becomes obvious is that when the market is telling you that your house, furniture, art collection, clothing, cars, et al are no longer as valuable as you once believed, you have little choice but to try to think about what the market IS valuing. You have to stop thinking of land ownership as your right, and start thinking about your house as a place that you stay while you live a life of contemplation and problem solving.
This is what our forefathers did. They were contemplative problem solvers. They are the ones who decided that land ownership was going to be the holy grail. They created a government and society around that concept. Which was easy for them to do, because they were all white, male, slave-owning, land holders. Ownership is what they valued. Now, as a more equal society, we have reached a point where you can no longer own people, and it is not currently feasible for land ownership to be the holy grail for the masses. So we need a new holy grail. I don't know what it is going to be, but I do know that the first step necessary for change to take place is for the middle class to become disenfranchised. I do know that. And that is happening right now. This change in wealth distribution provides the perfect time to think about what new frontiers we Americans can explore. We as a society dictate the value of our resources. When they become too expensive and scarce? We have the power to redefine our values so that the resources we do have can be utilized. This is our responsibility to ourselves, to and future generations.
Or to quote Mark Twain (kind of), perhaps the time has come to rise from affluence to poverty.
BB
