On a cozy Sunday evening, my boyfriend and I were watching the first two episodes of White Lotus. It seemed to him that this show is very popular, and many people in his social circle had recommended it. I watched the first episode of the first season a while ago, and honestly, it was not for me. When we discussed the show, we agreed that it is in some ways a caricature of the lifestyle of rich people. However, I commented that I could envision "rich white people" genuinely behaving the way the characters do in the series.
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My boyfriend’s reaction indicated that he was a bit frustrated that I often brought up "the rich" and "white people" when observing things. I contemplated, not for the first time, that what he said was indeed correct (although I would not call it "often," and I always try to reduce it).
After all, we grew up in different worlds and even now have different financial statuses. He grew up in a rather stable upper-middle-class family in Belgium, and from my impression, he never had to worry about money. I would categorize him now as a wealthy/upper-middle-class person (I do not know exactly his wealth; this is just my observation). Meanwhile, I grew up in a household that often fought about money and envied neighbors who would park their new cars in front of their houses.
My father was a factory worker in a petrochemical company and my mother stayed at home. We were a family of five (six supposedly, but my stepsister didn't live with us). I am the youngest. We never had family vacations, except for very occasional visits to our grandparents' place once a year (even this I remember happened less than ten times in the twenty-three years I lived in Indonesia). We were not poor per se, but we always struggled with budgeting. I remember seeing my mother cried when I was ten because she really wanted to have a dish rack, an another time because she desperately wanted a washing machine, as she was exhausted from always washing our laundry by hand, which caused her hands and feet to crack. She finally got a washing machine after twenty years of marriage with my father. You get the idea: we always struggled with money.
I came to Europe at the age of twenty-three to pursue an international master's degree, with a stipend of €1,000 monthly and fully paid tuition fees. That was the most money I had ever had, and it was at my fingertips! In the first semester, I could hardly believe how much freedom that €1,000 gave me for my lifestyle: I could pay for my student room, my books, budget travels, groceries, and I could even spared some to save. But still, there was a catch: I always thought of the price whenever I considered buying something and spent a significant amount of time comparing products, even simple things like milk or eggs. Store-brand products became my best friends for groceries.
Months and years passed, and my experiences living in three different countries kept my mind wandering about “money.” How come these young people (mostly locals and Europeans) spend so much to go out and buy alcohol? How do these newly married PhD researcher colleagues afford to own a home at such a young age? How can people afford vacations to exotic places every year? Why is there such a stark separation at the Sunday market—in the seafood and wine stands, it’s mostly white people with white tops and jewelry?
But perhaps now the question is: why are my observations biased and focused on this lifestyle and these people? Do I aspire to be like them? Would that make me happy?
My curiosity led me to switch my career path from soil biology research and return to university to study the source of money: business and economics. I learned many things that fed my curiosity: the industrial revolution, capitalism, political economy, globalization, and global wealth creation through the financial sector. The trend is clear: countries grow their economies through liberalization of world trade and capitalism, but often at the cost of the environment and sometimes human rights violations. Quality of life and purchasing power improve for most countries that embrace the capitalist system, yet the Gini index (the difference between rich and poor) widens in some places. The wealthy Western countries can afford their lifestyles largely because of the industrial revolution, colonization, inheritance, and modernized economies that do not rely heavily on natural resources. Developing countries are following this track, despite planetary boundaries being pushed beyond their limits.
It seems to me as well that more and more people are fed up with the wealthy. They want stricter taxes for corporations and wealthy individuals. Luxurious lifestyle content on social media is increasingly popular, yet feels more disconnected from the lives of regular people with a median income. Here, I observe that regular people do think about the rich: people aspire to such lifestyles, even though some believe it is unjustifiable in a world full of inequality. Maybe that’s why White Lotus is so popular with its niche audience. Perhaps the reason I do not enjoy White Lotus, which depicts a caricature of the wealthy lifestyle, is because I cannot really relate or connect with the story.
Based on this, I think I am not the only one who thinks about the rich: their lifestyles, the cost of the current economic system, and what should be done. But do the rich really think about the poor and feel obliged to help make the world more sustainable and fair? This I still cannot answer. I am afraid my conviction about this is rather bleak, and I am looking forward for someone to finally change my mind.
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