Going Our Own Way

By Frank Trippett

The President was back on the air last week with his favorite sermon: "We simply use too much--and waste too much--energy." Once again, almost wistfully, he beseeched the American people to cut back, conserve. It therefore seems timely to ask an essential question: Is it realistic to expect a society such as the U.S.--democratic, individualistic, competitive, diverse, skeptical, market oriented--to display a sudden show of self-discipline and self-sacrifice in response to the President's plea? Popular reaction so far suggests that the answer is a plain no. After all, the American people until now have treated the energy crisis as though it were the moral equivalent of ants at a picnic.

The nation's energy binge has gone on without significant letup. Token fuel-saving gestures have been widespread, and it may be that most Americans have actually turned back the thermostat a notch now and then or switched off a needless light. Still, through last summer America had managed to use and import more fuel by far than ever before.

The trend could hardly have surprised anyone attentive to the more visible facts of 1977. City dwellers are still accustomed to seeing office buildings lit up long after the workers have gone home. Luxury-loving Americans are constantly raising their purchases and use of electrical appliances. Indeed, demands for electricity have recently strained utilities sufficiently to achieve major blackouts here and there. New structures with solar-energy devices have remained almost as exotic as ever. Nobody seems to be considering an encore of the dimmed-out Christmas that marked the ancient time of the oil embargo. This Christmas may well burn record wattage.

The picture is scarcely more sanguine in motorized America. Certainly gas thrift has not been a preoccupation of motorists--most of whom appear to view speed-limit signs as mere memorials to the official 55-m.p.h. limit. Many firms and organizations have launched car pools, but these frequently fail to get solid or even sustaining public support. In short, voluntary conservation so far has flopped in the two places where people waste most energy--buildings and vehicles.

Why have Americans so ignored the energy crisis? The most common reason seems to be the lack of any motive to do otherwise. In spite of the convincing arguments of experts, most Americans simply do not believe an energy crisis exists. In a Gallup poll last summer, only 38% of the people were willing to call the energy situation "very serious." A recent New York Times-CBS poll found that fully 57% of Americans just do not share President Carter's concern.

This widespread skepticism persists alongside, and maybe partly as a result of, an inextinguishable American optimism--the belief that the country will somehow solve every problem. Together, skepticism and optimism thwart all efforts to move the public. The skeptical citizen, finally, cannot possibly see anything to be gained or any self-interest to be served by cutting down on the normal use of energy.

And after all, it is only normal American behavior that now seems profligate. Self-interest in the U.S. is more than the norm; it is the hallowed root of a society that has thrived on the notion that the common good results when individuals strive to get and enjoy as much as they can in a competition umpired only by the marketplace. It is that notion in action that accounts for the stunning fact that the U.S. burns up such a disproportionate 32% share of the entire world's energy (while also turning out, it is fair to remember, a similarly disproportionate 31% share of the world's gross product).

The pressures for the continuation and constant acceleration of the normal American life are immense. There is not only the stubborn impulse of national habits; in numerous ways the American is stimulated to get more, go more, buy more, use more and enjoy more--all of which usually burns more energy. Peer pressure and advertising also help to inspire countless energy-using activities. Status seeking has not ended in the U.S. simply because books about it are no longer popular. To many, the big car remains an object of envious ad oration, and everywhere Americans still keep up with the Joneses. For their part, the Joneses seem to be going off on week end trips in a gas-guzzling station wagon at 65 m.p.h.

Europeans, who have scarcer resources and a long tradition of scrimping, have done predictably better than Americans in cutting back fuel use lately. But the chase after more is the inevitable expression of an American character that had crystallized by the time politicians began speaking of inhabitants more often as consumers than as citizens. This character will not be changed by preaching. So what could induce Americans to transform their nature and begin seriously conserving energy?

Specialists in consumer behavior offer no magic answers. Psychology Professor Richard Foxx of the University of Mary land has found that "if people are rewarded for reducing their driving, they will do it." Rewards? Money prizes of $10 and $15 were given to students who succeeded in logging less driving mileage during Foxx's experimental study. Maybe large organizations could offer bonus vacations as rewards to promote conservation, Foxx suggests.

Psychologist John Cone of the University of West Virginia has found that electricity customers tend to cut down if they are reminded--constantly, each day--of actual dollars spent. They fail to respond to a mere general reminder to save their money. Says Cone: "What people need is more specific feed back about how much [energy] they are really using on a daily basis." Americans, in other words, must not merely be told but convinced of their self-interest before they will alter their habitual behavior even in a minor way.

Does this suggest that Americans are incapable of sacrifice for the national interest in the energy crisis? Not necessarily. Observers as far back as Alexis de Tocqueville have noted the typical American's willingness to yield self-interest for the common good. Yet the U.S., like every known democracy, tends to put off dealing with crisis until a bit after the eleventh hour. "Americans," as Dean Rusk once said, "have a way of doing at the end of the day what they don't want to do at noon."

The energy problem is different from previous crises. Experts may--and do--see it clearly, but to most Americans it is still a mirage. Maybe Americans would respond more seriously if the threat of rationing seemed more imminent. But it is likely that people will respond with a vigorous show of will and sacrifice only when, by events or a miracle of leadership, the crisis is made both credible and unavoidable. Then, as usual, Americans will tend to do energetically what they have no real choice but to do.

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