Possessed Read online

  Bruce Hood

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  POSSESSED

  Why We Want More Than We Need

  Contents

  Prologue

  1 Do We Really Own Anything?

  2 Non-humans Possess, But Only Humans Can Own

  3 Origins of Ownership

  4 It’s Only Fair

  5 Possessions, Wealth and Happiness

  6 We Are What We Own

  7 Letting Go

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  References

  Index

  About the Author

  Bruce Hood is Professor of Psychology at the University of Bristol and the author of SuperSense, The Self Illusion and The Domesticated Brain. He is an elected Fellow of the Association for Psychological Science, the British Psychology Society and the Royal Institution of Great Britain.

  For my lawyer brother, Ross; someone who has made a career out of ownership but, in spite of this, remains one of the most generous human beings I have known.

  Prologue

  If the whole of Earth’s existence were a 24-hour clock, then our species, Homo sapiens, which evolved around 300,000 years ago, would appear at about 5 seconds to midnight. Each of our individual lives represents an even more infinitesimal time in the life of the universe. That you are even here at all is a miracle. The likelihood of any of us being born is almost zero when you think about all the other countless eggs and sperm that never met, and all the individuals who could have potentially existed, compared to those of us who were actually born. If you are reading this, then you have also probably been given certain opportunities in life that are denied to many. Education and access to books are not shared with all of humanity. We are very fortunate to be here, even for such a short time. And yet, how do we typically spend this precious moment of existence? In the relentless pursuit of ownership, mostly, and defending what is ours from those who seek to take it away.

  We are so lucky to exist in the first place, and yet many of us who live in affluent societies pursue lifestyles that have the goal of accumulating as much stuff as possible, in the belief that this is our purpose in life. After our basic needs and comforts are met, however, acquiring more stuff is rarely fulfilling; yet there is an insatiable desire to own more. Humans are not content to just exist within the physical universe, but rather we feel the compulsion to claim as much ownership over it as possible, because we believe the more we possess, the better we will be. We come into existence for the duration of a lifetime, our physical bodies made from the particles of stardust from a distant cosmic explosion, and then spend much of that life staking our claim over parts of the universe! Not only is this a gross miscalculation of our importance, but the pursuit is ultimately pointless.

  During our time on this planet, we fight for property, fence it off, covet it and feel that the goals of life come down to everything we can claim ownership over, only to die and return to dust and never know what becomes of the stuff we worked so hard to get. We spend our lives building sandcastles with turrets and moats to defend from intruders, only for them to be washed away by the waves of time. We are not ignorant. We know we are not immortal and can’t take stuff with us, but the pursuit of possessions is an all-consuming drive that gives many of us our purpose in life.

  We are defined by what we own, and the psychological power of ownership is so strong that individuals will risk their lives to keep their possessions. The prospect of death should be a sobering reminder of the ultimate futility of ownership. Yet in 1859, 450 passengers on the Royal Charter, returning from the Australian goldmines to Liverpool, drowned when it was shipwrecked off the north coast of Wales. Many were weighed down by the gold they would not abandon so close to home. History and mythology are littered with tales of materialistic folly, from the legend of King Midas with his golden touch, unable to appreciate his wealth, to the reality of recurrent boom–bust economic cycles of the modern era where ordinary lives are shattered by financial institutions gambling with the global economy. It’s not just gamblers who have an addiction to wealth accumulation; so does the majority of mankind.

  Our lives are controlled by the accumulation of possessions, and with each new generation we discard most of what was left to us and set out to acquire our own new stuff. It is not enough to own, but rather we pursue more stuff, because in doing so we are satisfying the urge to acquire. Possessions are associated with individuals and each of us wants to carve out our own piece of the universe by what we own. Twenty years ago, my wife, Kim, and I inherited the worldly possessions of her parents, who had both died fairly young. These are household items that her parents had cherished. We still use a few items, but most are stored away in the attic. We should get rid of them, but Kim cannot bring herself to do so because it would represent removing the last physical trace of her parents.

  All of us leave behind evidence of ourselves through what we owned. Much of the appeal of memorabilia and antiques is this connection with the past. I like to visit auction houses and second-hand shops to marvel at the sorts of possessions that filled up people’s lives. Everything was once owned by someone who may have thought it was the most desirable thing to have. They may have worked hard for it, felt the joy of owning it or even risked their lives to get it. Maybe a medal for bravery, a collection of toy cars, or a silver-backed mirror – all these items could have had some special significance for the previous owner. How would you feel knowing that personal stuff you cherish will be discarded eventually, or sold to someone who has no idea who you are? Not everyone would be bothered, and some of us are clearly more obsessed by materialism than others, but ownership reveals something profound about what motivates us as a species. The word ‘motivate’ is apt here as it comes from the word ‘emotion’. Why do we feel the need to own? And why does ownership produce such emotional capital?

  The rich have more wealth and can buy more stuff than the poor, but possessions represent more than simply economic status. Rather, we have an emotional relationship with many of the things we own or aspire to own. We think that happiness comes from getting what we want, but very often what we want does not make us happy. The psychologist Dan Gilbert calls this ‘miswanting’ and it is a common human affliction.1 We are just not very good at predicting how much joy and satisfaction that acquiring things will bring us. This is particularly true for ownership and, indeed, much consumer advertising works by selling us the promise that we will be happier owning particular products.

  Take the pride and joy for many people in the West: the first car that they own. Many will work hard to attain one, feel pride in acquiring it and will defend it vigorously. It becomes part of their identity. Every year, owners are seriously, even fatally injured trying to prevent the theft of their vehicles which are leased or insured. It’s not the money at stake but rather the ownership. When someone threatens to take our stuff we behave unreasonably, as if the threat is directed at us personally. This can lead to an unhealthy relationship with our possessions. Car owners have been known to stand in front of speeding vehicles2 or cling to the bonnets of their stolen property3 in a futile attempt to keep their possession, and yet, in the cold light of day, few rational individuals would endanger their lives for the value of a car. But, equally, we can become easily dissatisfied with our cars and feel the pressure to upgrade when we see our neighbour’s new car in their driveway. Ownership fuels competition. In this one-upmanship race we cannot all be winners as there is always someone ahead of us and there must be those behind us.

  Then there are the long-term consequences of ownership. Many of us buy and consume more than we need in the full knowledge that we are acting irresponsibly towards future generations because of the limited resources we are using up, the expended energy and increased carbon emi
ssions that are changing the climate. The vast number of people on the planet and their activity are contributing to global warming, and it is their consumption patterns that are the most significant factor.4 Individually, we do not feel personally responsible. We justify our actions as insignificant in comparison to the 7 billion others and question why we should curtail our behaviour when everyone else is helping themselves. Even though individually we would readily die for our children today, ownership is such a motivating drive that we are not readily going to change our wanton consumerism for the next generation.

  In 2011, according to the Worldwatch Institute, which produces the annual ‘State of the World’ report on human behaviour:

  By virtually any measure – household expenditures, number of consumers, extraction of raw materials – consumption of goods and services has risen steadily in industrial nations for decades, and it is growing rapidly in many developing countries … If the consumption aspirations of the wealthiest of nations cannot be satiated, the prospects for corralling consumption everywhere before it strips and degrades our planet beyond recognition would appear to be bleak.5

  It goes on to report that for each category of consumption the evidence presented is overwhelming, but there is one simple calculation worth focusing on. Currently, the planet has 1.9 hectares of biologically productive land per person to supply resources and absorb wastes, yet the average person on Earth already uses 2.3 hectares’ worth. These ‘ecological footprints’ range from the 9.7 hectares claimed by the average American to the 0.47 hectares used by the average Mozambican. The situation can only worsen with the world’s population predicted to rise continually, with 83 million being added each year. How can we also address such growing inequality?

  If ownership evokes inequality between the haves and have-nots, then even the most ardent capitalist can see that things have got out of hand. Less than 1 per cent of the world’s population own over half of the world’s wealth, stoking the fires of unrest, rebellion, uprising, revolution and wars. China and India have a combined population of over 2.75 billion people. Most are poor. How can developed countries morally defend their privileged position of wealth by denying the same level of prosperity to other countries? Then there are the consequences of conflict. Wars are fought on many grounds, but they all share the same conflict over ownership. The current refugee crisis in Europe has triggered xenophobia and fear of loss of ownership, with a corresponding shift to right-wing protectionism. Today’s politics is replete with the language of ownership and control, whether it is President Trump campaigning to build a wall to keep migrants out of the US or the UK exiting the European Union to halt the influx of immigrant workers and refugees.

  Why this book now? Why should we be concerned that ownership is the root cause of conflict? Fighting over resources is not new and the data tells us that the world is actually a much better place to live today than in the past. In virtually all the key dimensions of human well-being life is much better than it was only a few hundred years ago, and yet most of us think the world is going to hell in a handcart in a phenomenon known as declinism – the belief that the past was much better than the present.

  Various polls in the last few years reveal that most citizens in prosperous countries overwhelmingly believe that the world is getting worse, though it is notable that this pessimism is not shared with citizens of developing countries who are experiencing increased economic growth.6 Again, declinism is a distorted perspective that plays into the hands of right-wing politicians who stoke the fires of nationalism and protectionism. The reasons for declinism are many, from various biases in human cognition (including rose-tinted nostalgia and the tendency to pay greater attention to future dangers, especially if you are already wealthy) to the well-known adage that bad news is more newsworthy than optimism. Declinism explains why extreme actions and politicians seem warranted when you hold unreasonable fears for the future.

  In contrast to this wall of pessimism, psychologist Steven Pinker is fiercely optimistic and thinks that doom-mongers are stirring up unwarranted panic.7 The world is getting better by all measures of progress, from violence, health and wealth – even if these have all been achieved at a cost of increased consumption of natural resources. The healthier, wealthier lives that more and more of us expect means that life is getting better; but for how long, and what about the environmental consequences of unbridled consumerism? No worries, Pinker argues. As soon as we approach a crisis point, history tells us that humans have the ingenuity and intellect to overcome adversity and will always have the capacity to pivot to address environmental challenges. I hope he is right, but surely it is more prudent to address behaviours that we know are creating environmental problems now rather than put faith in future solutions.

  One unequivocal crisis that is with us already – and not about to be solved easily or quickly – is climate change. Here there is universal agreement among the experts that things will change significantly in the future and may get much worse for life on the planet. However, both extreme pessimism and optimism on this issue are equally dangerous. The problem with pessimism is that it generates a sense of ‘what’s the point?’ fatalism that it is futile to try to change, thereby undermining any efforts to find a solution. On the other hand, unbridled optimism that relies on the hope that future science and technology will solve all the problems is equally irresponsible, in that it ignores the urgent need to address and change current behaviours.

  No doubt, science and future technologies will overcome many of the problems generated by the current over-consumption by an increasing world population, but with better education we can change our ways to avoid ecological disaster. The more affluent and educated people are, the more they become concerned over environmental issues. For example, since dramatic images of sea-life choking on discarded plastic in our oceans appeared in the BBC Blue Planet II documentary in 2018, there have been high-profile campaigns in the UK and abroad to reduce the amount of plastic packaging and wastage – symptoms of the throwaway consumer economy. Although a drop in the ocean, plastic straws have all but disappeared from bars and restaurants across the UK. It might be a minor gesture, but one that demonstrates that people and businesses respond quickly when faced with a bad-news story. These gestures can lead to movements. In the same way that the cumulative lack of responsibility in caring for our environment can generate problems, as we examine in later chapters, solutions can also emerge if individuals collectively raise concerns. The Extinction Rebellion protest that disrupted London during the unseasonably hot spring of 2019 was noteworthy in that it included children and adults from all walks of life with no history of civil unrest. It was less to do with anarchy and more to do with anxiety and frustration at the lack of progress to halt climate change. Campaigns for better futures from educated, healthy, wealthy people based on concerns over declinism have arisen precisely because people are less optimistic that things will get better on their own or that technological progress will find solutions. In the case of climate change and environmental concerns, manufacturers are now reacting by investing in alternatives because consumers are demanding it. In January 2019, one of the world’s largest chemical conglomerates, Dow, announced that it was committing $1 billion to lead a global alliance of companies to end plastic waste, with a further goal of another $1.5 billion of investment.

  As the world’s population grows, we can expect greater demands for energy to improve the quality of life, but consumerism for the sake of ownership is a human preoccupation that we should abandon as unnecessary. In the same way that the demand for furs and ivory in the West was curtailed by concerned conservationists over the last thirty years, humans can change their behaviour when it comes to consumerism. What better way to do that than to lift the lid on ownership to reveal what really motivates us to own things that we don’t really need?

  Possessed is the first book to explore how the psychology of ownership has shaped our species and continues to control us today. ‘To ow
n’ is such a common term in our everyday language that we barely notice it, and yet it is one of the most powerful concepts in the human mind. Ownership is interwoven into human behaviour in profound ways – what we do, where we go, how we describe ourselves and others, who we help and who we punish. The very fabric of civilization is founded on the concept of ownership, and without it our societies would collapse. How did this dependency on ownership come about? How do each of us learn to yield or wield the power of ownership? Why are we compelled to own more and more? How does ownership shape our ‘own’ identities? When you start to ask these sorts of questions, the familiar concept we are all used to begins to look decidedly strange. It is no longer a legal state, an economic position, a political weapon or a convenient way to demarcate possession. Rather, it is one of the defining features of what it is to be human and how we all conceive of ourselves.

  We come into the world with nothing and leave with nothing, but in between, in our brief moment on life’s stage, we strut and fret over possession as if our existence is defined by what we can own. For many of us, our lives are controlled by this relentless pursuit, even though we do so at the risk to ourselves, our children and, ultimately, the future of the planet. If we are going to change, then we need to understand what ownership is, where it comes from, the motivation it generates and how to be just as happy without it.

  We think that happiness will come from owning things but, if anything, it often leads to more misery. Few people can look back on a life preoccupied with the accumulation of wealth and honestly conclude, ‘That was a life worth living.’ We are so caught up in the chase that we rarely truly appreciate the achievements, or the costs – for the individual, for the species, or for the planet. When you take into consideration all the effort, all the competition, all the disappointment, all the injustices and, ultimately, all the damage we have wreaked in the pursuit of material wealth, it does seem such a wasted life to be constantly striving to own. And yet we can’t seem to stop ourselves. We are possessed – but it is a demon we can exorcise if we understand why we need to own.