Brink Lindsey is neither an ideologue nor a cultural warrior. He is an especially gifted storyteller whose enthusiasm for his subject is obvious, genuine, and endearing. The Age of Abundance is the product of an objective inquiry, and its conclusions about where America is and the implications about where it is heading are refreshingly nonpartisan and hopeful.
In the book's subtitles, Lindsey promises to answer two questions: How prosperity transformed America's politics and culture? Why the culture wars made us more libertarian? He fulfills his obligations with compelling data, anecdotes, pop culture allusions, and sundry vignettes from each of the post-WWII decades.
The driving theme of the book is that, in the aftermath of 15 years of economic depression followed by world war, America, with its accumulated wealth and pent up demand was on the verge of a socio-economic big bang. With human sustenance all but assured for most Americans, the realm of material necessity (where all of life's energies were devoted to fulfilling life's basic requirements), which had defined the human condition for millennia, was relegated to history. The possibilities for human enterprise, association, expression, and actualization were about to change.
Providing the locomotion for the vast and rapid social change and its echoes was the dawn of the Age of Aquarius (the countercultural emergence) and the subsequent Evangelical Revival in response. One of Brink's gifts is his capacity for succinct interpretation. Thus, the essence of the culture wars boils down to this: "one side attacked capitalism while rejoicing in its fruits [the Aquarians, broadly defined]; the other side celebrated capitalism while denouncing its fruits as poisonous[...]."
Putting aside the thesis and Lindsey's explanation of how the data and events comport with that thesis, the book is rich in its recounting of recent history, and some of the colorful, emblematic characters of those respective decades. As a baby boomer myself (born during the last year of the official boom, 1964) I was somewhat nostalgic, even wistful until it dawned on me how absolutely silly and naďve we have been at times during our cultural journey.
Lindsey's conclusion and its implications are compelling. Instead of the polarized, bimodal, red state/blue state socio-political characterization of the American political landscape (the framework that Tim Russert and Chris Matthews will use to explain everything this upcoming political season), Lindsey sees a purplish bell curve, with the red and the blue relegated to the respective tails. Among other sources of support for that conclusion, Lindsey cites survey data that finds 66 percent of Americans consider themselves moderate, slightly conservative, or slightly liberal, while only 21 percent consider themselves conservative or extremely conservative, and only 13 percent call themselves liberal or extremely liberal.
Accepting Lindsey's interpretation does not require fealty to any particular creed. He is not argumentative or defensive. If he is trying to sell you on his interpretation, it is a soft sell. Here are the data; these are the events; this is how it all fits into the big picture. You can almost hear Lindsey whispering, "Isn't that cool?" He enjoys discovery, and I could picture him reading his own book again and again wearing an expression of wonderment as he turns the pages.
(By the way, in recognition that there is even more to tell in excess of what can be bound between book covers, Lindsey has devoted his website to the project of keeping Age of Abundance a "living document," by introducing interactive materials devoted to the themes of the book, and post WWII history generally. Check it out at [...])