My Dad the Downshifter

Would you like to make less money? It seems like a ridiculous question but it’s one that many individuals are answering in a surprising way.

One such individual is Ross, my “Host Dad” for this semester abroad in Australia. Ross is a downshifter, a term utilized heavily by Clive Hamilton and Richard Denniss in their 2005 book Affluenza: When Too Much Is Never Enough. According to Hamilton and Denniss, “Downshifters are people who have made a conscious decision to accept a lower income and a lower level of consumption in order to pursue other life goals.” (pg. 153) To the authors of Affluenza, downshifters are a special breed, heroes who ascend above culture to seek fulfilment instead of wealth; they are examples to be emulated. But the degree of praise Denniss and Hamilton heap onto the downshifters masks the important question. Is the average downshifter really happier, more fulfilled? Luckily, I have had the example of Ross to help me answer.

Based on every experience I’ve had since meeting Ross, the answer is yes. Prior to acquiring his downshifter status, Ross was the head of a security firm that serviced many of the wealthier homes in the Sydney area. It was a demanding, lucrative, and prestigious job. But, with the last of his four daughters moving out and the untimely loss of his wife to cancer, Ross had a choice. He could bury himself in his work and accept a life of wealth and seclusion, or he could reduce his workload, grieve his wife, and then move on into a life of new relationships. Obviously, he chose the latter, and I doubt he’s looked back.

Now, Ross lives life at a very different pace. He still works a few days a week doing consulting with long time client friends. The rest of the time he engages in relationship building. He has opened his property up for year-round hosting of international students, so that the man with four daughters now has as many as seven sons with whom to share his life, his wisdom, and his barbeque mastery. In addition, Ross is a father figure to his neighbourhood, providing food and care to the sick and elderly and providing entertainment and hospitality to all who drop by. He’s also dating again, and the time he doesn’t spend at work he spends in building a deep, sincere relationship. Downshifting has given him time for love.

Even Ross’s house is a testament to his life, and it stands in stark contrast to those who have followed the material currents. Instead of an expansive house on a cramped city lot, he lives in the home he inherited from his father-in-law. It fronts an undeveloped nature reserve and has a killer view, with a yard big enough for parties, bonfires, and play. Instead of rare books and expensive hobby items, Ross’s shelves are adorned with memories. Presents from past students and mementos from romantic evenings fill each empty space. The billiards table is not immaculate and unplayed, but worn out from good use. The fridges are packed, not with expensive pre-made meals, but with sandwich meat and sodas. The veranda is not new, but it has its own laugh lines. The granny flat that sheltered his four daughters now houses his many sons. There’s nothing about it that is the slightest bit fancy, but neither is one bit of it forgettable. There is a story for every inch, every crease, every crack and dint.

Ross is a happy and fulfilled downshifter. Now, that doesn’t mean his life is perfect. He is, after all, still human. If you think that parenting an international menagerie of college-age boys is easy living then you’ve got something else coming. There are good days and bad; I’ve seen both already. But even the relationally bad days are better than materially good ones, because love isn’t real unless it can hurt us. And that’s the kind of hurt worth living for.

So I ask again, would you like to make less money? Try it. Maybe the next time something hurts, it will be your heart instead of your pocketbook.

Nick Van Ee
Dordt College

Sources:
Hamilton, Clive and Richard Denniss. Affluenza: When Too Much Is Never Enough. Allen & Unwin, Crows Nest, NSW. 2005. Print.