The Hidden Economy Of Love

A series in 3 Parts by Jonathon Crane

 The Hidden Economy of Love
Part 1
Share-houses, break-ups and popular music
(Uncovering the accountant in all of us)

So raise your hand if you have ever lived in a share house. We all know what it’s
like. If you don't, just refer to John Birmingham's "He Died with a Felafel in his
Hand,” a favourite of every independent university student because we can all re-
late- yes, things like that actually happen!

Well, about a year ago I found myself in a new situation. Now I'm no amateur to
this game; this was my sixth share house in over 8 years. I was pretty seasoned - I
thought I'd seen it all, but here was something new: A north shore apartment with
three professional males all aged between 25 and 30, all single. It was a harsh envi-
ronment. There was no time for a communal meal or even some television. We were
all too busy trying to take the next step up the corporate ladder or pursuing our tax-
ing exterior social lives. Doing anything for "mutual benefit" was a loser's game - It
was every man for himself. Pleasant morning exchanges were dispensed with in
place of things like "Why I am always the one who is bringing in the mail?" or "Why
am I the one who is always taking out the garbage?" which would be met with very
defensive replies like "What? I took it out the last two times! I haven't got time for
this, I'm late for work!" It was a dog eat dog world, and no one wanted to be the
smaller dog.

As for me, I was trying to do my fair share. I'm the kind of guy who doesn't mind
doing the dishes, so if I've just cooked dinner and there are a few other plates lying
around, I don't mind doing them, and while I'm at it, I may as well wipe the benches
and sweep the floor too. I don't mind if I'm the only one doing this kind of thing for
a night, or two, or three or… hang on, a whole week! Come on, somebody else has to
at least put in a little bit of effort! And not only that - if I had just a few items of
washing, no one was chucking them into their load. If I had run out of milk, no one
was very keen on giving me some of theirs.

I was just about to crack. Returning tired from work one night, I made my resolu-
tion: the next time someone accused me of something, ("Jono, you keep leaving
your cereal boxes out the back, and I'm not picking them up!") I was going to give it
to them. ("Well I'm not cleaning up your shit anymore! I've cleaned up the kitchen
every night for the last week!")

But when I opened the door, the usually grungy entrance looked immaculate - all
the floors had been vacuumed and the bathroom and toilet had been scrubbed
clean. (A task I personally loathe). All my simmering anger suddenly diffused. And
why? It was as if this one large piece of housework had in an instant made up for
the numerous little pieces of work I had accrued throughout the week. But what was
I doing, evaluating and equating the worth of different pieces of housework? Was I
some kind of crazy housework bean counter?

1
 The Hidden Economy of Love - Part 1

At around the same time as the whole bachelor-house-from-hell thing, I started to

notice something else. It seemed like one of those phases of my life. Three of my
good friends (and I) had just broken up long-term relationships. As it happens, in
all of the situations I had become friends both the guy and the girl. So of course,
now they were all turning to me (as if I was an unbiased 3rd party mediator) de-
manding to know what went wrong.

I can vividly remember being amazed at the dedication one girl had to helping her
boyfriend with his final-year university assignment. On the night before it was due,
as she sat furiously sewing in the middle of a floor strewn with half-finished gar-
ments, I remarked, "Wow, that's pretty nice of you. Why are you doing all that for
him?" She just smiled a huge smile and with beaming eyes said something like, "Oh,
it's really nothing". A few months later I saw her drunk in a nightclub - shouting
into my ear with slurred speech she listed absolutely everything that she had ever
done for him (she actually counted them off on her fingers) and how not one of
these times had he ever done anything for her. I had no idea she had been keeping
track of everything - and I suspect neither did she.

Then there were the phone calls. What do you say to a distraught friend who's just
had half of their life walk out on them? Of course they only want you to listen, but
the male instinct is to try and solve the problem. I started saying the normal things
like "you have to be more careful who you love" and "you can't give your love to just
anyone". Apart sounding like a Michael Jackson song, I realised my advice started
to mirror that of a financial consultant. I might as well have said something like:
"You have to invest your love more wisely - it's no good throwing it all away on the
first thing that looks good. Always make sure you are getting positive returns. Look
for a good dividend and room for growth in the future". And then later, after they
had cheered up a bit, sniffing and raising a smile through tears, they would say
something like, "Well thank god I've still got friends like you, thanks for listening,"
which would make me feel all warm and fuzzy, but made the demented financial
advisor in the back of my head want to say something like, "Yes, you see how it pays
to have a diversified portfolio - you can't put all your eggs in one basket".

Things started to get a bit scary from here: I saw the hidden economy of love in ac-
tion everywhere I looked. In every situation, normal people would morph before my
eyes to become the most diligent social bean-counters: My mates at the pub grum-
bling about the guy who miraculously seems to forget his wallet every time it’s his
shout. People annoyed in their cars because someone didn't follow the 'one for one'
rule when two lanes were merging. Everyone was counting, everyone was keeping
tabs, all watching for discrepancies on the bottom line. I turned on the radio to try
and distract myself - bad idea! It seems a high proportion of pop song lyrics are la-
ments over social accounting mistakes, misjudgements or, dare I say it, crimes.

2
 The Hidden Economy of Love - Part 1

Blu Cantrell certainly feels infidelity is an offence that demands a hefty bail when
she sings "Hit 'Em Up Style":

While he was scheming

I was beamin’ in the Beamer just beamin’
Can't believe that I caught my man cheatin'
So I found another way to make him pay for it all

In fact the 'other way' is by credit card - yep, times are certainly moving fast in this
day and age, where penance for social crimes can be paid electronically.

Justin Timberlake prefers the simple tactic of exclusion to even out the emotional
balance books in "Cry me a river":

You told me you loved me

Why did you leave me, all alone?
Now you tell me you need me
When you call me, on the phone
Girl I refuse, you must have me confused
With some other guy
Your bridges were burned, and now it's your turn to cry
Cry me a river

But the most direct advice comes from Jean Knight in her funk classic "Mr Big
Stuff" where she sings:

I'd rather give my love to a poor guy that has a love that's true
Than to be fooled around and get hurt by you
'Cause when I give my love, I want love in return
Now, I know this is a lesson, Mr. Big Stuff, you haven't learned

That's right Jean - we always should be looking for good returns when we invest our
money, oh I mean love.

So next time one of your best friend breaks up or your flatmate starts in on you,
take a look at the balance sheet and the bottom line - maybe by tweaking the figures
here and there you can make things even out, or at least look a little brighter - cer-
tainly in the case of the break up, a positive prospectus will help if they ever con-
sider listing publicly again. Rarely will things be so desperate that you need to file
for bankruptcy, and in that case, you can always turn on the radio.

3
 The Hidden Economy of Love
Part 2
The guide to finding free love
(Also where to find cheap love, and not so cheap love)

It was a cold and rainy winter’s night. One of those nights where it’s dark even be-
fore you leave work. Opening my apartment door, I instinctively looked to the little
light on the telephone answering machine. Is it? No, no... it’s definitely not flashing.
No one called for me. My flatmates aren’t home yet – they’re probably out with
workmates again. That’s cool – I’ll just put on some dinner and check my e-mail.

As the familiar sound of the computer booting faded into the background, I became
excited at the possibility of new messages in my inbox. Maybe Sarah who I met at
the pub last week replied to my email – she seemed like such a nice girl. But hot-
mail’s bright and cheerful welcome screen only held disappointment: “You have 0
unread messages.”

Exhausted, I threw myself down on the couch. I guess I’ll just watch some TV.

Several hours later, loud laughter awoke me from my slumber. My flatmate and his
girlfriend burst through the door. “Hey Jono! Oh, shhh – I think he’s asleep.”
Through half shut eyes I could see the smiles on their faces as they stumbled, gig-
gling, down the hallway. It was difficult to get to sleep again after that – the apart-
ment had thin walls and the sounds they made didn’t leave much to the imagina-
tion. It had been more than six months since I’d had a girlfriend.

I shook my head to try and clear my sleep-addled thoughts. I felt a bit feverish.
Love. God, that’s what I needed – but where was I going to find it? If only making
love was as straightforward as making money, I’d be set. But hang on. The penny
dropped: people are counting love like they count money (see Part 1), maybe if I
find out where money comes from, I can also find out where love comes from. Then,
happiness, laughter and good times will be mine, all mine!

I sat up off the couch and began to think. Now I’m no economics doctorate, but it
seemed like there are three things people exploit in order to make money:

First is the earth. Mining companies are the most crude and basic example. They
dig up the ground, take out anything valuable and sell it on at an inflated price. It’s
a low grade, high volume process – you have to sort through a lot of dirt to find just
a few specks of valuable rock. To make any kind of money you have to run a huge
operation.

Next are the animals and plants. Farmers are a good example here. A cattle farmer
fattens the animals up for the price of a few bales of hay and then sells to the public
for the price of an eye fillet steak. Although not on the scale of a mining operation,

4
 The Hidden Economy of Love - Part 2

here again, you need to exploit a lot of cattle in order to make a decent amount of
money.

The real money, however, comes from exploiting our fellow human beings. The
most celebrated example is that of the sneaker sweatshops: we pay people in third
world countries $2 a year to sit in a factory and make thousands of pairs of shoes
that we sell for more than a year’s salary each. But you may be more familiar with
examples closer to home. For instance, the small business whose employees get
paid peanuts compared to the salary of their Managing Director. In the case of hu-
mans, the raw material of exploitation is skilled (as opposed to rocks and cattle),
and this means the size of the operation becomes less important. You can make in-
credible amounts of money with just a small number of people.

From down the hall came the sound of smashing glass – probably the lamp I lent to
my flatmate two weeks ago. He hadn’t bothered to return it yet.

There was a moment of silence which was then broken by hysterical laughter. The
sound seemed to snap me out of a daze. The slight fever I had seemed to be clearing,
or was it getting worse? I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. I thought I was on to some-
thing.
As the laughter died down to be replaced again by soft whispering, I closed my eyes
and lay back down on the couch. Retracing my thoughts, it seemed clear that you
could make love in exactly the same places that you make money…

The first kind of ‘love’ can be made from the earth. Have you ever walked to the top
of a mountain, looked down and seen things laid out in front of you? The valleys,
the rivers, the tiny houses and the ocean in the distance. The sun is shining and the
world seems beautiful. Suddenly you forget the fact that none of your friends re-
turned your calls this week and that only half the people you invited to your birth-
day party actually turned up. Somehow you’ve gotten a kind of love or good feeling
from the earth, just by looking at a scene of natural beauty. But, as with mining (to
make money off the earth), this is a fairly low-grade love – it doesn’t last a long time
and you have to do a lot of bushwalking for a relatively small return.

A higher-grade love can be obtained from the animals and plants. The best example
of this is man’s best friend. Forget walking up hills. For the price of a few tins of Pal
per week, a dog can provide years of love and affection. Every time you walk
through your door, there is someone who is always happy to see you, tail wagging,
jumping up and down. It makes you feel great for a little while, but don’t expect
flowers or anything special when it’s your birthday. As with making money from a
cattle farm, if you want to make a living this way, you’ll need to run a fairly big op-
eration. The old lady with a house full of cats might be able to get by, but the aver-
age person with a blue heeler on the back porch is going to be struggling to survive
unless you have some other means of income. If you really want to be rolling in the
love, you’ve got to get where the action is.

A loud groan issued forth from the room at the end of the hallway. No one could be

5
 The Hidden Economy of Love - Part 2

expected to sleep through such a racket. I pulled the pillow over my ears to try and
block out the sound… What was I thinking about? Oh yes, the last place you can
find some love.

Other people. Now, I’m not going to start with relationships between adults. Pulling
a love-profit off your peers is something I would prefer to leave to the recruitment
consultants. But there are some people we have no qualms in exploiting for all the
love we can get: children.

Yes, if you really are in need of bucketloads of love, just have a couple of kids – it
will do wonders for your balance sheet. They’ll entertain you with songs and dance.
When you go out in public they will earn you status with their youthful looks and
joyful spirits. They’ll make you laugh when they get upset over the smallest things.
They’ll make you cry with joy when they say “mama” or “dada” for the first time.

Granted, they do take a bit more management than domestic animals, but their re-
turns are unmatchable. And what’s more, this is smart love – if you’re lucky, one
day the kid might even remember your birthday and buy you a present… that’s a
hard trick to teach a dog!

Suddenly everything went quiet. The frantic cries had stopped and it seemed like
the plaster was, thankfully, still attached to the ceiling.

I thought things over again – money, the earth, animals and plants, people. Love.
Love, yes, that’s what I needed, free love. Well, it’s not so hard to find. Yeah, you’ve
just got to be prepared to do a little bushwalking.

The house seemed tranquil now; there was only the sound of soft rain on the roof as
I drifted off to sleep. Several streets away a dog barked.

6
 The Hidden Economy of Love
Part 3
The global love crisis
Christmas time. So called season of giving. I knew what it took to be happy – giving,
huh! That was for suckers. Time to make good on my emotional balance sheet. I
knew everyone was counting (see part 1). Left that job – they wouldn’t miss me
anyway. Left that house – wasn’t going to stick around for emotional slavery. Didn’t
want kids or a dog yet, so it was time to do some bushwalking (see part 2). Yeah, out
on the road. Around Australia and further… not only were the views spectacular,
but you wouldn’t believe the kindness that gets heaped on a traveller by complete
strangers… like an untapped gold mine, always good for a few smiles and some gen-
eral interest – even if it doesn’t go too far. By my records I was doing fine. People
wanted to talk to me and I hardly had to lift a finger… ahead of the game I was. In-
donesia, Malaysia – record profits all the way.

Thailand was a bit funny. The lifestyle section in the newspaper wasn’t talking
about hip holiday destinations or the latest darling of the art world, it was a feature
with the title: “giving without the expectation of receiving”. Huh? Now that didn’t
really fit with the theory. How were they going to pull a love profit with that phi-
losophy? Buddhists… it would be like David Jones dispensed with their cash regis-
ters and ran on an honesty system. But the people there were insistent – I tried to
explain why they were opening themselves to rampant exploitation (like vast ura-
nium deposits lying in a remote Australian desert – just there for the taking!)… but
without solid proof that love was like money, I was lost.

And now this, Christmas time. Back in a Christian country with corporations doing
their best to exploit western society’s deepest anxiety: “if I forget someone, they
might stop loving me!” I was no exception – I wanted to have a healthy prospectus
for the new year and that meant shoring up profitable relationships with friends
and family that had been neglected with months of travel.
Fighting through queues of rabid department store shoppers I took a break and
checked my email. Email makes form letters easy, so now most of my friends have
become like small companies - sending standard Christmas greetings to an email
list that is 10 times longer than the message itself – yeah don’t worry, I haven’t for-
gotten you either: <delete>. But hiding amongst all of these I caught a glimpse of
something else. Although my anti-spam measures were set to the absolute maxi-
mum, it somehow managed to weasel its way through to my inbox. With an unas-
suming subject line it read as follows:

7
 The Hidden Economy of Love - Part 3

The Value of a Smile at Christmas

It costs nothing, but creates much.
It enriches those who receive, without impoverishing those who give.
It happens in a flash and the memory of it sometimes lasts forever.
None are so rich they can get along without it, and one so poor but are richer
for its benefits.
It creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in a business, and is the
countersign of friends.
It is rest to the weary, daylight to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and
Nature’s best antidote for trouble.
Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something that
is no earthly good to anybody till it is given away.
And if in the last-minute rush of Christmas buying some of our salespeople
should be too tired to give you a smile, may we ask you to leave one of yours?
For nobody needs a smile so much as those who have none left to give!

My grip tightened on the mouse as I read the last line… at last I had what I needed:
solid proof! With a light reading it seemed like a harmless little passage that almost
everyone identifies with. But I wonder if the anonymous author was aware of what
trouble it would cause Buddhist nations like Thailand, Laos and Myanmar. Yes, eve-
ryone knows a smile costs nothing. But likewise, everyone has been in a situation
where they are “too tired to give” a smile, or they have “none left to give”. But hang
on, how can you ever be too tired to give a smile? – they don’t ‘cost’ anything right?

Blood rushed as my mind grasped the paradox. “That’s it!” I thought. There is a
point where someone can be too tired and exhausted to smile. Too tired to give any
more love. Therefore the act of giving love – a sincere smile, a kind word – costs
energy. And energy is subject to the economy of survival. We don’t argue with sur-
vival. Just as we would think it would be crazy for a lion to run around all day with-
out the expectation of landing some prey, it would be crazy for us to go around lov-
ing without expecting something in return. Now I didn’t go out to refute the Bud-
dhists, but we have look at the facts. If a lion runs around too long without catching
some food, its going to starve and die. In the same way if you go around smiling and
loving people without getting any love in return – sooner or later those smiles fade,
you will become irritable and bad tempered. Since giving love costs energy, to give
away love for nothing is counter constructive – its an unsustainable activity. It’s the
same uncomfortable feeling you get when you counsel a friend who’s in a relation-
ship with a lazy partner. You know that its not going to last.

Almost running as I logged off and hurried back out to the crowded Christmas
streets. There was only a couple of shopping hours left. I regarded the seething
mass of frenzied consumers queuing outside a department store – did they all
know? Were they unwittingly just throwing their love away on one-sided relation-
ships and tabloid celebrities only to be forced to desperately dredge up affection

8
 The Hidden Economy of Love - Part 3

from dogs and children? And what was going to happen when there were no more
children? People are already becoming scared of the economic consequences of
negative population growth – but what of consequences for global well-being? No
wonder rates of depression related illnesses are escalating the world over. Better
start breeding dogs… lots of dogs.

I fought down my urge to panic. Questions of an impeding global love crisis aside,
the shops were about to close and I wasn’t even halfway through my list. It was time
to start economising. Gifts only for the privileged few – the rest would have to be
satisfied with a phone call or (as I swallowed down the lump of hypocrisy clogging
my throat) - a mass email. My stomach turned itself in knots – with minutes left to
spare, how was I going to make everyone happy? The girl at the cash register looked
fatigued – it was Christmas time, but there wasn’t much joy on her face.
Industry experts predict that our current oil reserves will only last another 40 years,
but does anyone know how big our reserves of love, good-will and kindness are? We
may be facing a global shortage that I’m sure is excaberated by our quest for success
and consumer nirvana. We have ministers for the economy and a national treas-
urer, but why don’t we have a minister for love, happiness and well-being? We need
to recognise and begin managing love as we do any other renewable resource. We
need to think about sustainable love and provide incentives for love recycling pro-
grams. We need government grants for research into questions such as “what is the
difference between a genuine smile and an insincere grin?” You would agree there is
a difference, but we need to quantify this difference so that we can plan, manage
and avoid catastrophe’s in the future. Turning love into a number might sound
scary, but it seems to be the natural course of things, as science slowly chips away at
the long list of life’s mysteries that were previously the domain of religion. We ac-
cept the miracles that doctors perform daily just like we accept the constant pres-
ence of mobile phones.

Chocolate - that was the answer! I was out of time. Everyone else would just have to
be happy with that. Muscling my way into the crowded sweets shop I found the cus-
tomers held spellbound by a five year old boy performing a hyperactive worship of
all the treats that were trapped behind the glass of the counter. He knew everyone
was watching as he pointed to each brand of chocolate, turned around and per-
formed a kind of smiling dance as if this would convince us that he really deserved
more. As his mother hurried him out of the doorway he paused momentarily and
waved to his captive audience. We were powerless but to smile and wave back. The
door closed and the shop resumed with the bustle of last-minute Christmas custom-
ers fervently attached to their desires.