The six-billionth person to inhabit this fragile earth was born last Tuesday in the impoverished nation of Bangladesh, and as far as I can tell no one reported his or her name or provided any personal details about the kind of family into which the child was born or the kind of future prospects awaiting that human soul.

The statistics can be meaningful, of course, but they tend to provide those of us who live in affluent cultures with a false sense that the problems belong to others. Had that child been born in North America, he or she could be expected to consume ten times the amount of the earth's renewable resources compared to a Bangladeshi child.

We'd be asking questions such as: Where will he or she go to college? Is there a pediatrician nearby who can deal with childhood ailments? Do we have enough outfits to get this child through the week? Will this child favor Pepsi or Coke?

Consider this: Among industrialized nations, the United States is the only one for which increases in population are still projected over the next two decades. In a subtly sad commentary reported by the Associated Press last week, this trend in our nation is "largely as a result of immigration."

Or consider this report, made at a press conference earlier this month by Dr. Nafis Sadik, executive director of the United Nations Population Fund: "In the midst of the greatest wealth the world has ever seen," she said, "one billion people still live without the fundamental elements of human dignity -- clean water, enough food, secure housing, basic education and basic health care."

Who are these people? Certainly not those who live in my town - or even in my state.

I recall hearing Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, the pioneering researcher on death as part of life, repeatedly characterizing humans as saying, "It will happen to thee, and to thee, and to thee, but it will not happen to me."

This, Kubler-Ross suggested, is the universal denial of death that prevails around the world.

Some similar denial mechanism clicks into operation whenever we in the commercially successful and educationally advanced regions are presented with the statistics of how the globe is handling its rapidly expanding population and rapidly depleting resources. Paraphrased, we could capture America's mentality in these four words: "It's not my problem."

It's become a popular debate in our age to argue whether politics is personal.

There's an interesting exchange that comes to mind from the Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan movie, "You've Got Mail."

"Look, it's nothing personal," Hanks tells Ryan when his mega-discount book store drives her tiny neighborhood bookshop out of business.

"Of course, it's personal," Ryan's character responds. "Everything is personal."

So it is, as is world growth. Population is personal.

It's too easy in our society to think that population growth is related singularly to producing babies, and because of our position in the world a key question of family planning becomes "How many?"

But there is a quality-of-life issue inadequately addressed. Population is not just about producing children; it is about sustenance and nurturing; it is about providing life-enhancing opportunities related to education, employment and health benefits.

Though it may seem off-topic, I was struck by the contrast this week presented through a cover story in Newsweek magazine on the so-called "tweens"; that is, American children between the ages of 8 and 14.

I confess that having just finished reading about the world population problems when I picked up the magazine, I was close to regurgitating after reading the prose that cheered and encouraged our youngsters' materialistic, selfish and glamour-oriented lifestyle.

The cover story characterizes these young people as "stuck on fast forward, in a fearsome hurry to grow up. Richer than ever, they're also a retailer's dream, with a seemingly insatiable desire for the latest in everything."

I read the pandering story and wondered if any of these "tweens" the authors are writing about could locate Bangladesh on a globe or were aware that for most of the world's "tweens" the names Nike, Adidas, Tommy Hilfiger, Sony and Pepsi were hardly "cool."

As I read, I wondered whatever happened to the national campaign urging that we "Just say No!"

Am I crazy to suggest that our society is raising a new generation of addicts, and that their drug is self-indulgence and ignorance of their place on the globe?

For all of its reporting of the "tween" culture's relationship to marketing and sexuality, I found nothing about how young people relate to community service or making friends with people they don't know. I found little or nothing about how they view their place in the global community.

The one statement I found related to church came from a youngster who said in the typical contradictory analyses of his age, "It's fun, but most of the time they just talk and it gets kind of boring. I like the singing."

Practically every point made in the Newsweek story was rooted in money, not in thought, and even where the children were named, little was given to readers about how that child really feels about life and the world. Instead, "tweens" are presented as slaves to their possessions, their leisure activities, and their path to commercial success.

Don't misunderstand me. As a father, I know these are major cultural hurdles. Yet, few of the attributes and answers suggested in the Newsweek article showed any awareness that these "tweens" are but a fraction of the people their age living on the face of the earth.

Are we teaching these tweens anything about human dignity in the global economy?

What's more important to them, an awareness of the six-billionth person on earth, born in Bangladesh, or the brand name of their next pair of baggy pants?

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Allan R. Andrews is an editor in Washington, D.C., the father of four elementary and middle school children, and a freelance writer. He can be contacted at allan.andrews@reporters.net