Why the rich cannot join our recession

By Joe Queenan

The global economic meltdown has reached the stage where even the planet’s wealthiest people are beginning to feel it. According to the New York Times, executives who once broke bread at the finest bistros in Gotham are holding meetings in diners. High-powered attorneys have been spotted eating in restaurants that take coupons. Socialites occasionally wear previously worn dresses to formal events.

Noting, soberly, that this “is a tough time for the very wealthy,” the Wall Street Journal reports that a growing number of cash-strapped plutocrats are reduced to ferrying themselves around in used Bentleys. Indeed, in its annual survey of the world’s richest people, Forbes says the number of billionaires around the world shrank from 1,125 to 793 last year, their total net worth plummeting to $2.4tn from $4.4tn.

The signs that the rich are taking it on the chin are everywhere. Paris Hilton’s TV reality show has been forced to slash its budget by 10 per cent. Free events at the public library are attracting scions and scionesses. And the wealthy are having no luck in persuading Congress to slash the dreaded estate tax that kicks in when rich people kick the bucket.

The avalanche of stories about the plight of the wealthy is not surprising. Journalists get tired of writing about starving children, downsized auto workers and destitute teachers; after a while these sob stories start to take on a generic feel. The rich make better copy; they are more colourful, have a better turn of phrase than the other classes, and supply excellent anecdotes about how the recession is impacting on their fortunes: “We had to cancel the anniversary party in the temple of Luxor and fire both sommeliers! Can you imagine?”

In normal recessions, these pity-the-rich stories go down reasonably well. It is an oft repeated verity that Americans are not afflicted by congenital hatred of the wealthy. This is because America is an aspirational society. As the saying goes, the American sees a man in a Cadillac and dreams of the day he can drive a big car, while the Frenchman sees a man in a Cadillac and dreams of the day he can drag him out and make him walk like everybody else.

One reason this compact has worked well for so long is that in truly trying times the rich have had the good sense to keep a low profile. An unwritten law among the well-heeled stipulates that once unemployment hits 8 per cent, it’s time to mothball the yacht, cancel the chukka and wear hand-me-down jodhpurs. It’s also time to keep your yap shut.

No ordinary recession

I am not one of those seething populists who despises the rich. I understand that the wealthy pay more than their fair share of taxes, generously fund museums and opera houses, and maintain dainty public gardens everywhere. But they need to understand this is a recession that belongs to ordinary people, and that they cannot be a part of it.

This is no ordinary recession. It’s not a fleeting, don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it economic slump like the one in 2001-02. It will be the worst recession in most people’s lives. These sorts of recessions do not lend themselves well to anecdote. The rich have to understand that we are not all in this together. People’s retirement plans have been smashed. They have lost their houses. Future generations will be laden with debt for decades. Some people will be out of work for years. Some will never work again.

Most of us can deal with this. We can tough it out. What we cannot tolerate are any more stories about Saudi billionaires getting taken to the cleaners in the stock market, or socialites wearing pre-worn gowns to galas, or high-powered executives eating at McDonald’s. This is a people’s tragedy; don’t try to muscle in on it. Make yourself useful and go polish the used Bentley. Or hire one of us to do it. We could use the spare cash. — © Guardian Newspapers Limited, 2009