From Leisure Class to Aspirational Class

Building on a previous discussion about a 1960s mouse experiment #Universe25, this article explores human psychology, drawing inspiration from Elizabeth Currid-Halkett’s “The Sum of Small Things: A Theory of the Aspirational Class.”

Humans have a fundamental need to differentiate themselves. The idea of being just “another brick in the wall” is unsettling; we strive to stand out.
We all harbor a desire to belong to a select group, to feel special, chosen. Historically, the wealthy distinguished themselves through conspicuous consumption: expensive clothing, luxury goods, travel, fine dining, and so on. The lower classes, unable to afford this lifestyle, occupied clearly defined roles in a stratified society. Thorstein Veblen, in his 1899 work “The Theory of the Leisure Class,” was among the first to critique this practice of using publicly visible goods to signal social status. However, this behavior is not new. Examples can be traced back to the Roman Empire, where the elite shifted from frescoes to mosaics as the former became more accessible, and to the 18th century, when high heels signaled that the wearer did not need to work. While the wealthy have always enjoyed displaying their affluence, two significant shifts in the last 30 years have altered this dynamic:

1. Widespread Affluence: Globalization, improved working conditions, and social rights have increased access to consumer goods. Many people in developed countries can now enjoy occasional restaurant meals, own modern technology, wear fashionable clothing, and travel. The trappings of the upper classes have become more attainable.

2. Information Access: The internet allows for easy comparison with people worldwide. We can readily observe others’ lifestyles, their food, conversations, clothing, possessions, and more, through articles, Google, Facebook, Instagram, and other platforms.

These changes have profoundly impacted social structures. The lower classes, by emulating the lifestyles of the wealthy, have blurred the traditional distinctions.
The wealthy, in turn, have sought new ways to differentiate themselves. Instead of simply acquiring more luxury goods, they have shifted their focus to less tangible markers of status, such as private education, the arts, opera, and consumption of exotic foods. They aim to cultivate a cultural elite. This trend has trickled down. Everyday people now embrace trends like organic food, palm-oil-free products, vegetarianism, veganism, and gluten-free diets. While some may have genuine dietary needs, for many, these choices are a way to feel different, to align themselves with a perceived cultural elite. Social media amplifies this effect, with users competing to demonstrate their perceived superiority. This illusion of cultural distinction can provide a sense of satisfaction with one’s own life. However, as trends become more popular, their “elitism” diminishes, leading people to seek ever more niche, sometimes even ridiculous, distinctions, such as “smart water.”

This pursuit of feeling special raises an important question: Isn’t the worst human experience not feeling special? While that might seem like the ultimate hardship, there’s something even worse: a lack of purpose.
But that’s a topic for another article.