One always speaks badly when one has nothing to say.
—Voltaire
First World problems are things that bother people from wealthy countries that most Third Worlders would consider ridiculous. For instance, if you’ve been acting out over having to stand on public transportation, then you’re demonstrating a First World problem. If you just unfriended someone on Facebook because she didn’t pay enough attention to the posts you worked so hard to find, then your time and energy have just been wasted on a First World problem. When you burn with anger because your online delivery is late, you are the model for First World upset. The list goes on and on, to include venting over vacation inconveniences, slow Internet service, and delayed plane flights.
First World problems are even an Internet meme. Here’s one:
Here’s another:
And another:
Up until the mid ‘90s, the biggest audience a lonely person in need of company might manage was a few people sitting at the bar. The bartender as host gave everyone alcohol, hot wings, and conversation, for a price. Now, some social media site is the host, thumbs-ups (or likes) have replaced alcohol and hot wings, and the everyone can have as many real and imaginary friends as they want for a lower price. In a different era, Andy Rooney, the godfather of all First World complainers, had to rely on a syndicated column and 60 Minutes to spread his message. But with the infrastructure for digital data in place, the world is the Internet Warrior’s oyster.
The equation looks like this: unwarranted self-importance + broad social media platform + unhappiness over trivial issues = burgeoning First World problem phenomenon. Unhappiness deserves the most attention. Granted, our culture really has grown maddeningly complicated. For some, the obsession with First World problems serves as a coping mechanism. As complex social animals, humans seek ways to create community, and since First World problems seem real enough to their victims, why not share them in an effort to relieve tension? At least this is what some people believe. Others will even tell you that worrying about the world’s more serious problems ruins the quality of their lives.
The trouble with this line of reasoning is that First World problems aren’t as real or significant as Third World nightmares. Cholera, genocide, and stunted growth from malnutrition are serious problems. They’re measurable physical phenomena. Lamenting to everyone within earshot that a tedious vacation was a “soul-crushing defeat” is a hyperbolic description of a transient psychological invention. Who really cares about that vacation, and why should they? When people assume that by sharing superficial personal problems they relieve anxiety and tension, they are in fact burdening someone else without solving the problem. They’re diminishing the audience without improving their own personal condition.
If nothing else, First World problems serve as a useful reference frame. All that claims reverence risks ridicule. The world’s most severe problems are everyone’s problems, whether we like it or not. The fact that 8 billion people share a planet of diminishing resources in an era of economic interdependence says enough about our current condition.
America’s value system has changed with the nature of its work. The service sector accounts for over 80% of the American economy. We’re consumers more than producers now, which means marketers teach their prey from childhood that they’re special and deserve nothing but the best, even when this isn’t true. Commercials feature predictable archetypes: the smug woman nursing the perfect cup of coffee and gazing out the window; the formerly distraught but now relieved couple sleeping blissfully on a mattress fit for British royalty; the twentysomething vacationer reclining in a beach chair and cuddling with his beer on some sunny coastline—and they all wear mysterious grins, as if they’ve unriddled some enigma that no one else will ever understand.
Although production and consumption are intimately related, they differ greatly. Production is more closely related to invention, which inspires a sense of accomplishment. Invention tells us we can act in unique, meaningful ways. It can contribute valuable additions to the world around us. Of greatest importance, it teaches us how to engage our curiosity as we manage a sustained critical effort. Invention is the complete works of Shakespeare. It’s a walk on the Moon. It’s that visionary project you promised yourself you would finish.
Consumption does little or none of this since it’s tied to limbic system stimuli relating to satiation and pleasure. Those obsessed with consumer-driven desires are different animals. They behave unmindfully. By extension, this means that American society has, to a great extent, become self-absorbed and unmindful, which explains the white noise associated with First World problems. Glorifying casual privileges due to cultural conditioning and then complaining bitterly over incidental slights along the way isn’t helping.
