Consternation over Consumption

Jenna Allard, Solidarity Economy, Solidaritycents, TransformationCentral

As a recent college-graduate, making a somewhat abrupt transition to the working world (albeit the rather cushy feel good world of the non-profit working world) and to the supposed beginning of “the rest of my life”, these past few weeks have been filled with overwhelmingly large purchases. I have just ended an apartment search, am realizing that I now need to begin a furniture search, and am right in the middle of a car search (the fact that my car finds new ways to break almost every week is becoming a little fatiguing on my wallet and peace-of-mind). These large purchases require me to spend a lot of time looking at possibilities and comparing them, listening to salespeople and haggling with them. It can be easy to get caught of in the planning of my potential life with these products, to become enthralled by their minute details. Of course, it can also be easy to indulge in one of the left’s favorite emotions – guilt.

These emotions connected with consumption are complicated. The things we buy (both qualitatively and quantitatively) most likely make up the majority of our social impact, since, as residents of the so-called “first world” we are generally able to consume a lot. We are used to considering ourselves activists based on the amount of rallies that we attend, or the way that we vote, or the organizations that we belong to. Indeed, it can be somewhat disheartening to reflect that that cup of coffee we purchased, with its non-recyclable container, its non-fair-trade beans, and its non-cooperatively-owned retail chain, might have more impact than those hours we have spent somewhere, waving a strongly worded sign in front of some sort of foreboding corporate headquarters. But this realization also holds promise; it means that we don’t primarily hold principles – as if they were some sort of canned good reserved for unexpected company or some sort of revolutionary situation – but that we primarily live principles. Of course, that seems rather obvious, until we realize that applying these principles to our everyday buying decisions and striving for consistency is a daunting project; until we realize that we don’t always have the information to make these ethical buying decisions; until we realize that budgetary constraints sometimes limit the extent to which we can practically live these principles.

More and more, there are opportunities to live our principles through our purchases: fair-trade goods, organic fruits and vegetables, cooperatively-made handicrafts, environmentally-friendly products. Yet, these opportunities sometimes lead us to believe that this type of ethical consumption is unambiguously a good thing – we buy that tee-shirt because the proceeds benefit a favorite cause, we replace all our light bulbs with energy-efficient ones, or we fill our fridge with produce from the farmer’s market on a weekly basis. Consumption, especially consumption of this sort, is a privilege. Especially when buying these new ethical products leads us to increase our consumption level, or even discard other materials that have not out-lived their usefulness, this consumption can become an indulgence. Perhaps even harder than ethical consumption is the practice of non-consumption. It is not our product knowledge or our budget that hinders us, but the psychological and cultural comfort of materialism that we cling to; most ethical consumers would still find it abhorrent to dumpster-drive, the hitch-rides, to drastically down-shift the number of hours they work.

The way we feel about consumption must necessarily be complicated; it must not solely be about ourselves, or even just about what we believe. Dorothy Day, one of the founders of the Catholic Worker Movement, discusses these solidarity aspects, writing:

Common sense tells us, “Why live in a slum? It is actually cheaper to live in a model housing project, have heat and hot water, a mauve or pink bath and toilet, etc. We can manage better; we can have more time to pray, meditate, study. We would have more money to give to the poor.” Yes this is true, according to the candlelight of common sense – but not according to the flaming heat of the sun of justice. Yes, we will have more time, with modern conveniences, but we will not have more love. “The natural man does not perceive the things of the spirit.” We need to be fools for Christ. What if we do have to buy coal by the bucket instead of by the ton? Let us squander money, be as lavish as God is with His graces, as He is with His fruits of the earth.

Let us rejoice in poverty, because Christ was poor. Let us love to live with the poor, because they are specially loved by Christ. Even the lowest, most depraved, we must see Christ in them, and love them to folly. When we suffer from dirt, lack of privacy, heat and cold, coarse food, let us rejoice.

(Day, Dorothy. “On Pilgrimage”. By Little and By Little: the Selected Writings of Dorothy Day. Ed. Robert Ellsberg. Alfred A. Knopf: New York, 1983.)

I have quoted this passage at length because it continues to challenge me. In fact, it flagrantly challenges our very common sense. I may not share Day’s specific religious convictions, but I completely understand her desire to consume in solidarity with people as well as with values. In this vastly unequal world, where the whims of the few are satisfied before the needs of the many, can’t our consumption be a process of interrogating our “needs” as well as fulfilling them, a way of practicing discipline as well as stating our preferences, a method of de-refining wealth as well as redistributing it? The very act of consumption is generally done in isolation. No one is cheering us on at the check out. Few groups provide a community space to discuss and practice our consumption. This shouldn’t lead us to believe that our consumption doesn’t intimately concern others, and that we shouldn’t be talking just about how much we consume in addition to where it comes from. Are we prepared, for instance, to try to live on Charles Gray’s World Equity Wage (WEW), capping his wage at $3.14 and working no more than 20 hours a week (based on a sustainable consumption divided equally among the entire world’s population) in order to share the world’s available work and income? At this moment, not even I am willing to make that leap – yet my resolve could grow within a supportive community. Hopefully these upcoming green-solidarity festivals will help connect those in the

Boston area who are willing to radically question their consumption.

I suppose that I am grappling with the fact that even ethical consumption should not absolve us of that guilt that radical leftists so often wallow in. I suppose that I think there is still value in the power of renouncing something for the sole reason that others must do without. We need to find the community in consumption – to be willing to include considerations of the world’s billions into our “private” purchasing decisions; or, perhaps, conversely, we just need to re-conceptualize consumption as part of the many other community activities that we are a part of. In the meantime, I still struggle with my own level of consumption – the concept of “need” often seems two objectively elastic to suit any justification; of course I don’t “need” these material items. Perhaps the concept of priorities is more apt. In the meantime, I continue my car search, and continue my struggle not just to consume “ethically”, but to learn how to consume in solidarity. To date, I have not been very successful.

Jenna Allard July 20, 2007 at 5:04 pm