Before addressing the ‘so what?’ of this series of articles (as promised at the end of last week’s post), I want to turn one last aspect of the topic itself.
‘THE standardization…’
By using the definite article ‘the’ instead of simply calling this essay ‘standardization of opulence’, I aim to highlight the intentionality and the deliberateness of the standardization of which I speak. I am saying that it is not an automatic, unmanned process which occurs spontaneously due to a confluence of certain forces and/or ideas; rather, it is a phenomenon engineered by human minds like you and myself. Now here I must tread carefully because it is easy to descend into unsubstantiated conspiracy theory, at which point I will lose the thinking reader- and quite rightly so.
Thus, what I must stress from the outset is that by claiming it to be a human-engineered process, I am not at the same time claiming that there are some hidden factories littered across the globe with the words ‘standardization of opulence HQ’ emblazoned in front. There are no manuals by which men and women in different places think through and implement methods of giving excess the same or similar look and feel. Rather, the standardization takes different forms across different economic regions and industries, but with a common effect: making wealth look similar everywhere for everyone.
One of the forms standardization takes is what is known as Planned Obsolescence. It is the idea that products are deliberately made in such a way that they will require either modification or replacement in a set time period. This in itself is no longer controversial; it is well documented that companies design their products with a limited life span, and the practice has even been defended by some economists and industrialists. The merits and demerits of planned obsolescence are beyond the scope of this essay. The point here is simply that, when you have hundreds of multinational companies- say, in the computer industry- all making their products with a set lifespan, a convergence in design and materials used is probably inevitable. They’ll start to look increasingly alike. Perhaps this is even more apparent in the cell phone space: whereas Sony Erickson handsets were distinct by shape, size etc. from Nokia handsets, one would be hard-pressed nowadays to tell the difference between a Huawei, Samsung, or LG smartphone if the respective logos were hidden. I am not attributing the similarity only to planned obsolescence, but I am arguing that it has been a strong contributing factor.
Beyond this, I cannot write with any reasonable confidence either of other mechanisms by which wealth is standardized or of the people doing it. The question of motive, however, is hinted at when talking of planned obsolescence: profit and power. If I were a powerful institution, my interest in keeping others preoccupied with a false and uniform conception of wealth is that it would make it much easier for me to both hoard and control the sources of that wealth. In a word, it would give me power. It is in some way the same principle behind the divide-and-conquer tactic of imperialism or the misinform-and-confuse strategy employed by the likes of tobacco companies in order to throw doubt over the harmfulness of their products. This deliberate creation of ignorance is known as agnotology and bears a close resemblance to what I have loosely termed here the standardization of opulence. The fragmented empirical examples and scattered arguments here need much refinement, but I am satisfied that I provide enough of a point of reference for further enquiry.
So What?
To the extent that it exists as something more than a figment of my imagination, awareness of this standardization is useful for two reasons I can think of immediately: first, it allows us to be conscious economic agents and then, subsequently to relate to wealth such that it serves the ends we choose for it and not the other way around[1]. And in any case, even if you discard those two points as convoluted nonsense, a third shadow reason looms over the other two: that awareness is a necessary (though not sufficient) precursor to change.
Conscious agents
To be a conscious consumer means much more than being aware of the many options available: it also means being aware that those options themselves may not be neutral. That is, what is presented as available can and often does serve someone’s interests. Conversely, what is absent from the catalogue of choice is not always necessarily unavailable or non-existent but is hidden, or simply not presented for consideration. An example: upon arriving in the UK at Heathrow, I was promptly informed by a ticket salesman that the train would take me from point A to B, and that I would have to change trains from point B to my final destination. As I waited for the train, another ticket sales lady dressed in different colours told me that, while it is true that the Express Train goes faster and is more luxurious than the underground option, the latter is much cheaper and I would have arrived at the same destination about 20 minutes later- which, if you’re not in a rush, is hardly a compromise.
Now, while the first salesman had not lied to me (not by commission, anyway), he had not presented to me all the options either, especially knowing that, as a foreign traveller with a likely limited budget, I would have gone for a cheaper option. It was a subtle Thatcherism: There Is No Alternative train. My point here is that information is hardly ever neutral.
Even when you’re ostensibly presented with an option/options for you to choose from, the thing to ask is why am I presented with a, b, or c and not, say, e, f, or g? I’m not advocating for needless pettiness or overbearing fuss about every item in our cupboards. I’m simply arguing that we cannot afford to take what we are given as, well, given. Choice, too, when elevated to goal-status, can be used to pacify our awareness and agency in any sphere of our lives[2].
Changing our relationship with material consumerism
Being aware of the above, we can then begin to disentangle ourselves from rampant consumerism in very palpable and immediate ways: we can ask ourselves what the origins of our wants are: do I want that shoe because I saw it worn by someone perceived to be rich and therefore valuable? It’s what has been called ‘borrowed desires’- wanting things, not for some quality immanent to them, but for the value (perceived or real) they may confer onto us. And the thing with awareness is that it, by its very nature, transposes itself from one area of being to another: once one becomes aware of one’s thoughts, one’s actions will soon be more consciously enacted too. Aware of one’s actions, one cannot help but start being aware of their consequences, the consequences of one’s neighbour’s acts, and so on. Our history as a race is littered with the lesson: “to know thyself”, to address the ‘man in the mirror’, and to mind the log in our own eye- this is what brings about true and lasting change. Socrates and Michael Jackson and Jesus of Nazareth are on this point agreed.
As to what change awareness of the standardization of opulence can or should bring- and even whether such a change is necessary or desirable- well, that is where you come in. I have loaded the gun as it were. The trigger is for the reader to pull.
[1] It may here be argued that whether wealth is a means or an end depends on the individual and carries little ethical implication. So what if wealth is its own end, the goal toward which some strive and study and sacrifice? While it is again outside the scope of this essay to discuss this, I elsewhere argue and give evidence that when wealth- in particular, profit- is the agenda to which all else is subservient in policymaking and corporate governance, it leads to regulatory redundancy and negative economic outcomes. There is no reason to believe that this elevation of wealth to goal-status would have better outcomes in other areas. The analysis in question is my MA Thesis and is available upon request.
[2] Annemarie Mol, for instance, makes a compelling case against the misplaced prioritization of choice in the healthcare sector. See her 2008 book The Logic of Care: Health and the Problem of Patient Choice.
Zama Moyo lives in Johannesburg. He completed his honours in international relations at Wits University. While busy with his honours, Zama was selected as an intern at the South African Institute of International Affairs (SAIIA). He completed his MA in ideology and discourse analysis at the University of Essex in the United Kingdom. Zama has always loved words and penned a number of reflective essays on his personal blog Thought Box. He has also written on a broad range of issues related to current affairs. In 2013 he was selected as a finalist in the Global Human Rights Essay Contest which focused on ‘Human Rights Cities’. He is currently working on his doctoral thesis – On the intersection of ethics and public policy – at the University of Pretoria.
