Changing the Message

One of my favorite blogs these days is No Impact Man, which the author, Colin, describes as "A guilty liberal finally snaps, swears off plastic, goes organic, becomes a bicycle nut, turns off his power, composts his poop and, while living in New York City, generally turns into a tree-hugging lunatic who tries to save the polar bears and the rest of the planet from environmental catastrophe while dragging his baby daughter and his Prada-wearing, Four seasons-loving wife along for the ride."

A few days ago, Colin posted a really beautiful "A Day in Our Life" essay, describing their thoughtful, slowed-down, pretty-darn-challenging day. "Thoughtful" is what mostly struck me. They've made what many people consider some very extreme changes (you should read the comments by people who are ANGRY with him, almost on a daily basis!) and what he keeps writing about is how the limitations he's placed on his life have opened up a different view of the world.

On September 11, he posted "Are we too selfish to change?" and wrote about how the "message" (by which he means marketing, advertising, cultural norms) has changed and convinced us that we NEED to consume more, waste more, get rid of the old when it breaks and buy the newer, bigger model.

What if we change the message? he asks.

I'm very aware of the message, because writing advertising is what I do for a living. I know how easy it is to convince people that "want" really equals "need." I'm aware of how our culture is full of messages that tell us what we have isn't enough. Yet, I fall for it just as often as the next guy, even when I know it's not true.

What if, in addition to working to change the message, we strive to become more aware of it. We can teach our children—and ourselves—that advertising is telling them they need [fill in the blank]. We can ask them, and ourselves, if the message is true.

Here's an example: When my elder son was really little, he didn't watch TV. The first time he actually saw a commercial, he was 6. We were watching the Oscars and a flashy car commercial came on. He looked at me in amazement and said, "Mommy, we don't need a car. We have two cars already."

There you have it.