I've seen my share of commercials advertising "Secret Millionaire" over the last few weeks, and each time I watch one all I can think is how we have been duped as a society. Over the past weeks and months there have been demands of "shared sacrifice", calls for cuts to Social Security and Medicare, a total absolving of accountability for the Wall Street robber barons who bear the blame for our economic collapse. We are told by Republicans - and some Democrats - that we can't afford certain things anymore. Our pensions, health insurance, unemployment insurance, paid sick leave, etc. - benefits negotiated in good faith by hard working Americans for which any First World government should be obligated to provide to its citizens - are instead termed "entitlements", treated as if the concept were pejorative.
As Michael Moore beautifully and accurately stated in his diary "America Is NOT Broke", we as a nation most certainly have the resources to provide subsistence for all of our citizens. But instead, the richest 400 Americans have usurped an egregious and obscene amount of wealth from the very citizens who helped generate that wealth. And because of this, soup kitchens and food pantries have limited supplies, millions are homeless, millions more are unemployed or underemployed, all so our modern day robber barons can purchase a second private jet.
Much of this harsh reality could be reversed (or at least chipped away as a start) if America enacted a much more progressive taxation system, similar to that enacted from the 1940s until Ronald Reagan became President. As has been mentioned numerous times here at Daily Kos, the above decades were a time of great economic expansion and the birth of the American middle class. Unfortunately, the last 30 years has been a slow, then fast, toppling of policies that gave birth to and strengthened the middle class.
In "Secret Millionaire" I see a television program that glorifies the very wealthy while trying to garner pity for soup kitchen workers and music teacher volunteers, the poor, "unsung heroes" of America. After spending a week or so undercover, with many-an-instance of tears by the veiled millionaire - Voila! - the millionaire reveals his or her identity and writes a check for a relatively large sum of money. Everyone is shocked, ecstatic, and emotional, and the viewers are left with a sense of fulfillment - "isn't it great that a millionaire helped those poor, downtrodden folks!"
Except as is expected, not every millionaire on the show is going to be nominated for Mr. or Miss Altruism any time soon. Take Dani Johnson for example, the millionaire to be featured on the premiere episode. Ms. Johnson states that she was once homeless and successfully built a business from scratch. However, instead of anonymously donating some of her wealth, she chooses the reality television route, and when you become aware of her business venture, it's easy to see why. You see, Ms. Johnson is currently selling a book from her website (which I won't link to, you can Google her name if you are that interested) entitled "First Steps to Wealth". Ahh, it's becoming clearer and clearer; another person becoming wealthy by selling books informing other people how to get wealthy. And before Ms. Johnson became wealthy by selling books teaching other people to get wealthy, she earned an income selling weight loss pills.
Washington Post columnist Hank Stuever has written his own critical piece on "Secret Millionaire", and I agree entirely:
There is no longer any pleasure derived from an honest workweek or anonymous compassion. Serving a great meal is no accomplishment; you must become the founder and CEO of your own trendy restaurant chain. You must become so successful that people hire you to get their sales staffs motivated by the magic of your words.
*snip
The show doesn't spend nearly enough time describing how Johnson became a millionaire, so it's off to the Internet to paw through the layers of PR bunk and finally learn: She sold diet pills in one of those multilevel marketing schemes. It seems she was so good at it that her rocket eventually reached orbit; now she coaches others on how to get rich by getting other people to sell stuff to other people.
I find that a little galling. "Secret Millionaire" bestows on Johnson a beatific status, and she, in turn, glorifies herself (and her brand) by whipping out the checkbook. Further episodes will follow another motivational millionaire to Gary, Ind.; a couple who founded the Curves health club chain will gift the poor of Houston; and a real estate mogul from San Diego gets a cliched eyeful of misery in Detroit.
When Johnson returns to the Love Kitchen to give Helen and Ellen a check, I will be the first to admit that "Secret Millionaire" has a tear-streaked, joyful payoff for all, including viewers. The sisters weep with astonishment, thanking Johnson and then offering exuberant praise to God.
Still, how I wish Helen and Ellen would hand this woman her check back, and tell her (and the producers) thanks, but no, thanks - we don't appreciate being lied to.
There is a lot more in the article, but the parts I highlighted pretty much sum up my thoughts.
Are these charities better off for having increased exposure and a very substantial donation into their coffers? Of course they are. But despite these acts of kindness, I still have a major problem with what this show represents - the notion that we should be indebted to the voluntary gratitude of the very wealthy; that we should be oh-so-thankful that a few millionaires decided for whatever (likely unscrupulous) reasons to donate a small sum of their fortune to those desperate for aid.
As the title of this diary states, if America had a truly progressive tax policy, removed ourselves from 24/7 reality television, and cared about people without thoughts of getting something in return, then we wouldn't need secret millionaires.
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