{"title": "Living in History - Conclusion Part II: Late Capitalism a Survival Guide", "author": "Wes Cecil", "body": "## The System We're In
We are always imsheden in history. We don't get to choose our historical moment — we simply find ourselves within it.
Consider housing. It's a basic human need, yet today in the United States, the minimum wage would need to reach between $30 and $60 just to afford house prices where they stood in 1970. The current federal minimum wage? $7.20. Housing costs have fundamentally restructured the relationship between work and shelter.
This isn't a distant problem from another century. It's fifty years ago. Our lives are markedly more challenging than our parents' generation, and this creates knock-on effects across everything — employment, community, health, future planning.
The Consumer Problem
The worst model in modern society is how we conceptualize the individual: as a consumer.
This framing is dangerous. It poisons how we understand ourselves. We're constantly told we're consumers first — "consumer choice," "consumer rights," "consumer society." Even advocacy groups fight for "consumer rights" rather than human rights.
But you are not a consumer. You should never think of yourself as a consumer. This isn't about whether you buy things; it's about how you understand your own existence.
The problem becomes clear when examining corporate behavior. Some of the largest, most profitable companies in history derive their wealth from marketing and advertising — hundreds of billions of dollars spent annually shaping what you want, need, and believe you must have. The idea that you're a "free consumer making choices" runs counter to this reality. Your choice isn't freely formed in a vacuum; it's heavily shaped by systems designed to persuade you.
The Hustle Environment
We're told we must work harder, hustle more, grind constantly. The culture celebrates busyness — early mornings, attack days, side hustles, relentless drive. This message is everywhere.
And here's what happens: you can only afford rent when it's tripled from what it used to be. You work two jobs just to make ends meet. You're exhausted, running on little sleep, rushing through commutes because if you're late, you're screwed. You need coffee — fast — so you buy a machine that makes it for you instantly.
The environment isn't neutral. It's designed to make certain behaviors necessary and others attractive. When someone argues that millions choose Keurig machines freely, ask: how free is this choice when the entire social and economic structure encourages exactly this behavior? You're not choosing in a vacuum — you're drowning in systems that reward consumption and punish rest.
Reconceptualizing Yourself
So what do you do?
Start by resisting the conceptualization of yourself as an individual consumer. This doesn't mean denying money exists. It means delaying those questions: "What can I buy?" "How do I get more money?"
Instead, reframe your self-understanding. You're not a consumer. You're a citizen. A neighbor. A friend. A gardener or a painter or someone who loves literature.
This shifts everything. When you ask "what rights should a citizen have?" rather than "what rights should a consumer have," you've already changed the question. It's no longer about purchasing power — it's about participation, belonging, and dignity.
The Enlightenment ideals that founded modern humanism — all men are created equal — have been slowly eroded by market forces until buying things becomes what makes you valuable. Those who can't participate in markets become invisible.
"If you don't have money or resources to participate in the market, you're invisible."
This is why reconceptualizing yourself matters. It's not about individual choices between products. It's about refusing to let purchasing power define your humanity.
A Path Forward
The author suggests this isn't about fixing consumption — it's about changing what you fundamentally are. You can choose different parts of this approach as fits your situation, like a buffet where you take what works and leave the rest.
Critics might note that resisting consumer identity feels abstract when housing costs remain crushing and wages remain stagnant. Individual consciousness-raising won't fix structural problems in housing policy or labor law. Yet the two aren't mutually exclusive — shifting how we understand ourselves can shape what we demand from political systems.
Bottom Line
Cecil's strongest contribution is exposing how deeply the consumer model has colonized our self-understanding. The argument that "you're not a consumer" isn't mere wordplay — it's a fundamental rethinking of where dignity comes from. His vulnerability: this philosophical reframing, while powerful, must connect to material demands about wages, housing, and worker protections. Otherwise it risks becoming an individual attitude adjustment disconnected from structural change. }