As F. Scott Fitzgerald noted in The Great Gatsby the rich are different from the rest of us. In fact not only are the rich different from the rest of us, the rich are different from one generation to the next.
Having known rich people from the past and the present I feel confident in asserting that the rich of yesteryear, say 50 years ago, are different from the rich today.
In the past, "old money" meant living modestly. Flashiness was considered outré, a kind of vulgar, tasteless expression of wealth. Truly rich people wouldn't be caught dead in a red Cadillac convertible. Such manifestations of consumption were in the province of the "arriviste" or what might be called "new money."
While "old money" hid behind modest, dark cars and plain A-line dresses, "new money" was bedecked in jewels and décolletage. Of course, there were exceptions to this generation, but those were rare indeed.
At the risk of another generalization, old money attitudes have evanesced, interred along with humility. What characterizes wealth at the moment is excess. Despite all the revelations about the rich and famous who have looted their companies and taken from their shareholders, I believe that most corporate leaders are law abiding. But I also believe many wealthy people exhibit an unrestrained desire for excess decidedly different from their wealthy forbears.
Without mentioning names, news accounts are filled with stories of wealthy people who have "his" and "her" aircraft, multiple Rolls Royces, gold plated faucets, million dollar parties. It often seems that if the imagination can construct a purchase, there are the rich ready to acquire it.
Gone are the days when a wealthy elite realized it was supposed to be the model of propriety. Rich folks were expected to set a standard that might be emulated and possibly striven for.
Admittedly the mediating institutions in society that served as moderating influences have been knocked down like bowling pins. Rather than mom and dad, television land produces standards. These are the ephemeral values of "more," what the rich and famous flaunt. Teachers no longer educate youngsters to walk humbly in the face of God. For one thing they cannot speak of God and, for another, trash talking has replaced civility.
Religious institutions have been shaken by the relativistic revolution. Right and wrong have been replaced by "maybe" and "why not." Abby Hoffman wrote of Do It! several decades ago; this generation has done it.
The nouveau riche count. They count their houses and cars. They count their vacations and airplanes. They even count on the most lavish displays in public events.
Of course, the rich are as free to spend their resources as anyone else. But there was a time when wealth came with responsibility. Wealth was presumably a reflection of manifest principles: hard work, sobriety, dedication, thrift. Now one gets rich with paper transactions.
Most wealth isn't generated from sweat and hard work. The very rich are intoxicated with their good fortune. This condition invariably results in self absorption and arrogance, the belief that one possesses unique characteristics that others do not have. Is it any wonder the Donald Trump is now tutoring the nation on business practices?
Oprah will spend millions at a party in which she will announce her fiftieth birthday. Would John D. Rockefeller have engaged in such a charade?
It is fair to say the very wealthy – in most instances – have lost their bearings. They believe that only money and the things it buys are important. They suffer character deficiencies and a congenital inability to recognize what is truly important.
Yet it wasn't always like that. The homes in Newport, Rhode Island reflect taste and aristocratic bearing unmatched by the mansions in Silicon Valley or the Hamptons. What Carnegie, Ford, Harriman and Rockefeller – with all their flaws – gave the nation will not be matched by the Donald and Warren Buffet.
The rich are indeed different. They now spend more and act more foolishly than most others. But they are no longer a source of inspiration. They are merely a vulgar representation of new money gone bad.
Herbert London is president of the Hudson Institute and John M. Olin professor of humanities of the New York University, publisher of American Outlook and author of "Decade of Denial," recently published by Lexington Books. He's reachable through www.benadorassociates.com .
©2003 Herbert London
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