Another good article, Buying into the psychology of consumerism, a discussion of the book “Nation of Rebels: Why Counterculture Became Consumer Culture” about how counter-cultural movements reinforce materialism.
Next, the authors analyze the psychological underpinnings of the counterculture in their chapter “Freud Goes to California.” Freud, they say, believed in the importance of civilization even though it limited individual freedom. The counterculture, on the other hand, chose to elevate individual freedom over civilization. They condemn the widespread individualism of the counterculture for making it difficult to organize social movements. Engaging in guerrilla theater might be fun, they say, but it does not solve serious problems.
With biting wit, the authors expose what they see as the hypocrisy of anticonsumer critiques of capitalism. Arguments against consumerism, they say, are merely snobbish putdowns of what other people buy. Budweiser is bad, single-malt liquor is good; hamburger is bad; risotto good; Chryslers bad, Volvo good; and so on.
In actuality, they argue, the anticonsumer movement has found its most fertile ground in the United States. Antimaterialism has become a cash cow, they say, offering expensive handmade goods to those willing to afford them. But does buying “all-natural organic tea” make you more virtuous? No, they say, it just helps a new market grow.
The authors level their harshest criticisms on those who favor cultural rebellion over political action. Take the marketing of brand-name products to teens, for instance. Countercultural critics might see no solution to the problem of selling goods to vulnerable consumers short of overthrowing the capitalist system. The authors offer a simpler reform: Putting a tax on advertising.
This sounds like a somewhat dorkier version of stuff I’ve read in the Baffler. I’d rather read the Baffler!
I definitely get the criticism of “consumer activism.” I mean, the problem with doing your activism by purchasing things has so many obvious problems with it that it seem silly to even bother inumerating them. On the other hand, you just have to buy things sometimes. You can minimize how much stuff you buy, and try to buy more used things or make more things yourself, but you are going to have to buy things one way or another, and some of them will have to be new things. And I think it makes sense to try to buy things that are made sustainably (recycled stuff, organically/sustainably produced stuff, etc.), under good labor conditions, etc. Anti-consumerism, anti-sweatshop-ish-ness, and such ideas have obvious trendy potential that is being exploited, and I don’t particularly want to be part of that. But I also don’t want to buy stuff that was made under horrible labor conditions, for example. So sometimes I weigh my options and something that’s sort of trendy and that probably isn’t all it’s cracked up to be is still the best option.
I guess when I think about it, it doesn’t make me feel “virtuous” to buy certain things, it’s more like I can’t bring myself to buy others because it makes me feel too conflicted and icky.
relatively apropos article here:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,3604,1375499,00.html
I like the part about looking like a hippie and the bit about making a pot out of a stick and a sock.
Good link. In the article, why is it necessary to caricature women who like to shop as slaves who want to wear hamster-hair nose warmers?
I don’t know. I don’t even really buy into the idea of purchasing or not purchasing items as social action. I just buy what I want to buy. I have a hard time being concerned about people halfway around the globe who have no real, practical relationship to me. What am I responsible for? Do I need to get mobilized every time there is a natural disaster or wide-scale suffering? Is it better to buy socks made my an indonesian women who works 10 hrs a day and uses the salary to buy essentials for her family or to buy more expensive socks made domestically by American workers who use the money to help pay for their cable bill? I dont think many people realize how incredibly privileged we are to even be able to have concern for textile workers in the third world. Who do you think they’re most concerne for? Would they be better off without our money flowing in, even if only through their minute salaries?
Well, mostly I would just advocate people decreasing their consumption, rather than shifting it to “ethical” items. And buying things locally as much as they possibly can. It’s no wonder that you don’t feel a connection to some person on the other side of the globe who makes your stuff–how could you? You might find it silly but it makes me feel less like an alienated cog in an anonymous capitalist machine when I buy produce from a local farm or something. In a similar way, you’d feel differently about that hypothetical Indonesian woman if you actually put cash in her hand for those socks.
There are those that would argue that when we buy things made in economically depressed countries by people working under sweatshop conditions, that we are helping the downtrodden by funnelling our money in their direction instead of giving it to people in privileged countries. But it only takes a little investigation into the living conditions of the people involved compared to those of their pre-globalization forbears who didn’t have such jobs to see that the current state of affairs is anything but an improvement. Trying to convince ourselves we’re helping those people is obviously a pretty self-serving rationalization.
I still ask a lot of the same questions you are asking, and the bottom line is that I’m not OK with the effect U.S. consumerism is having on the world (and us), so I have to at least try to do something different. It could have a positive effect or it could just decrease my feeling that I’m implicated in this system that I hate. I can’t tell for sure.
Of course, for me it’s pretty much a moot point anyway. I would buy used clothes anyway because they’re cheap. I would buy produce that’s local and/or organic (in that order) whenever possible anyway, because it’s better for you, and you often get better quality, freshness and taste. I would avoid shopping at places like the Gap anyway because stuff from those places often falls apart quickly and I don’t like running into three different people in the course of my day who are wearing the same shirt as me (actually happened to me once wearing a Gap shirt). Etc., etc. etc. On the rare occasions when I spend extra money for a more “ethical” product, I usually get a correspondingly higher level of quality anyway.
I agree. I think the Gap sucks mainly because they just suck. Their clothes are overpriced and poorly made. I actually think they screwed up with their strategy of promoting Old Navy. Old Navy sucks even more, but with Old Navy people have no reason to buy the things the Gap was good at, basic clothing items. I want to see a store that sells nice pants and jeans that fit, basic button down shirts that are well-made, and nice classic stuff. I think these stores try too hard to be fashionable and fail miserably.