skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Garrett Hardin's first rule of ecology emphasizes the extreme complexity of systems. Every act has consequences and implications - both intended and unintended - or even a result completely opposite to that desired. When applying ecological principles, "the idea is not to slavishly imitate nature, but to model a natural ecosystem in all its diversity and interdependence." Pollan describes the 1960s organic movement's understanding of the connectedness of everything, and "sought to establish not just an alternative mode of production (the chemical-free farms), but an alternative system of distribution (the anti-capitalist food co-ops), and even an alternative mode of consumption (the 'countercuisine')." What are equivalent alternative systems for objects? Local artisans, freecycle, craigslist, and ebay?
Consumers' disconnectedness from the extraction, production, distribution, and disposal of goods (great summary at the Story of Stuff) allows the illusion that consumption is an isolated act, instead of a consequential one in a complex system. A stronger connection to other participants in the system, such as buying produce directly from the farmer at a market, or an object directly from its designer or maker, alters the consumer relationship within the system - revealing, among other things, the political implications of the global industrial vs. the local artisanal modes.
The artisanal competitive strategy is to produce something special rather than a commodity at the lowest cost possible. Although proposed in an agricultural context, Allan Nation theorizes that:
This artisanal model works only so long as it doesn't attempt to imitate the industrial model in any respect. It must not try to replace skilled labor with capital; it must not grow for the sake of growth; it should not strive for uniformity in its products but rather make a virtue of variation and seasonality; it shouldn't invest in capital to reach national markets but rather should focus on local markets, relying on reputation and word of mouth rather than on advertising; and lastly, it should rely as much as possible on free solar energy rather than costly fossil fuels.
One of the reasons we buy new things is that we become bored with what we have. The object that at one time was novel transitions to mundane. On successive occasions of having a particular experience, Gilbert writes, "we quickly begin to adapt to it, and the experience yields less pleasure each time. Psychologists call this habituation, economists call it declining marginal utility." He suggests there are two mechanisms to counteract habituation - variety and time, although variety isn't necessary if there is sufficient time separating experiences.
Although Gilbert doesn't make the connection explicitly, presentism, or the tendency for current experience to influence one's views of the past and the future, also seems to play a role in stimulating purchases. Upon an initial novel experience with an object, we assume we will continue to have the same positive feelings for long after we purchase it - forgetting to take habituation into account. Gilbert does propose that comparisons have a similar effect. When considering the purchase of a new item, we compare it to our current, habituated, mundane possession - rendering the new, novel and/or the current, outdated. However, we fail to consider that after purchase and the discarding of the old, the delight produced by that initial contrast is gone. Styling, and perceived obsolescence, takes advantage of this phenomenon to persuade essentially unnecessary upgrade purchases.
Gilbert's theories don't sufficiently explain the existence of favorite, long-standing, frequently used possessions, as he doesn't account for contained memory, attachment, and meaning in objects. However, Michael Pollan, in Omnivore's Dilemma, proposes a framework for eating that transfers well to objects. (One of many concepts in this book that translates smoothly into material culture.) He suggests humans' "innate neophilia - the pleasure of variety, and neophobia - the comfort of the familiar," motivate the contradictory inclinations for the new and the known. We sometimes seek the excitement of novel experiences and stimulations and other times prefer the safe reassurance of the familiar.