I used to write about consumer spending and personal spending here sometimes, because I think there’s a broader political issue in there somewhere about opposing capitalism and creating a fairer, more balanced world, but I found it increasingly hard to put my finger on exactly what I think that might be. The anti-consumerism movements that exist out there tend to be either patronizing and moralistic, many going so far as to indulge in a kind of competitiveness as to who can mortify their own materialistic, and therefore debased, desires the most, or they only look at what’s wrong with overconsumption from an environmental standpoint, which is valid but doesn’t address the issue of uneven distribution of resources and wealth, or they are content with just making fun of yuppies (Adbusters comes to mind…).

I’m thinking about the issue again because I’m reading a book called Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping, by Judith Levine. She writes:

“Part of me is disgusted by Americans’ sense of entitlement to vast quantities of everything. At the same time I am loath to ally myself with any movement, right or left, that starts by telling people not to desire. I don’t want to tell the girls in the store that it’s wrong to want those frivolous shoes, because I don’t want to risk suggesting they give up the sexy dream of dancing the night away.”

And I agree with her. Of course it isn’t anyone’s place to tell anyone else what they should or should not enjoy. And even if it were somehow acceptable to do so, asking people to deprive themselves of the small pleasures is entirely beside the point and serves no political purpose. What frustrates me is that I think there’s a valid political issue hiding in there, in the disgust at excessive consumption and the knowledge of its consequences — reinforcing inequality, further enriching the already-rich, squandering resources — but I’m not aware of a political philosophy that articulates why making one choice rather than another matters, or how it matters, and to whom, or how a movement based around that issue can be shaped and its message disseminated.

Moralizing is the wrong way to go. It’s not a moral issue, it’s a political issue. It isn’t wrong — it’s not “a sin” — to enjoy a nice pair of frivolous shoes, nor is forgoing them a meaningful political act. Does it become meaningful if one goes a few steps further and makes a conscious choice not to amass hundreds of pairs of shoes to go with every possible outfit? Or when one chooses to ride a bike, walk, or take mass transit rather than drive a gas-guzzling SUV? Maybe, but it seems to me those choices can only become significant as a political statement when they are a part of a broader movement that includes not only an ideological and philosophical underpinning but also achieves some kind of critical mass. I’m happy not to contribute my nickels and dimes to Wal-Mart, and that does literally constitute, I believe, a tangible non-support of that company, but I don’t think I’ll be bringing down capitalism and global inequality any time soon by doing so.

There’s an aspect of the feminist movement that places a great emphasis on recognizing that the personal is political. Sometimes I think that’s taken to excess: focusing obsessively on the personal can easily slide into becoming all about me, me, me and risks losing sight of broader issues. But even when arguments about whether or not it’s okay to shave your legs become bogged down in details that can come to seem tiresome or trivial, there’s a meaningful core issue there: when you don’t shave your legs and you’re not alone in making that choice but part of a larger movement that has written volumes about the political implications of leg shaving, you’re making it more acceptable for other women not to shave their legs, and are therefore adding to the choices at their disposal, and allowing them, in the process, to add themselves to the chorus of hairy voices letting society know that women don’t exist only to be stereotypically attractive to men.

If the feminist movement can make it acceptable to be hairy, why doesn’t the anti-capitalist movement take a page from their book and work to make it acceptable to be poor? We’re poor already — the median income in the US is $23,000 a year — we just aren’t allowed to walk around looking like we’re poor without being made to feel ashamed. The feminist message that you are acceptable just the way you are is fundamentally a compassionate message. It’s not that you can’t doll yourself up if you enjoy doing so — though there are some who take that stance — what’s important is for you to have a choice: being dolled up is not an imperative, and it isn’t shameful to just go out in public looking like yourself.

Movements like Voluntary Simplicity, which Levine discusses, are very much centered on the individual, not on society’s responsibility to address inequality nor to help make the outward appearance of poverty socially accepted. They offer a sort of spiritual pep rally aimed at convincing individuals that not having stuff, and not having to work as hard to acquire it, is more satisfying than having it. I happen to agree, but not for any lofty spiritual reason: I don’t like stuff and I don’t like spending money, which I don’t have anyway. And if simplifying my life means I’m supposed to create a plan to declutter my home, as the simplicity movement recommends, honestly I find lying on the couch watching TV and eating ice cream to be way simpler. (The ice cream doesn’t cost much, especially if you consider how delightful it is, and I think that as long as you watch TV with a critical mind it does not in fact rot your brain.)

Then there’s a whole slew of experts writing about the psychology of consumer spending, whose premise seems to be that consumers are craven, lustful souls who are helpless before the irresistible lure of a shiny gadget. Hmm, sounds reminiscent of anti-feminists who love to say that women can’t resist pretty dresses and perfumes…. Granted that corporate advertisers are at fault for their shameless attempts to manipulate the public with their relentless and dishonest pitches, but I don’t believe that we the public are by nature hapless fools who can’t resist the siren song of a wide screen TV. Corporations are doing their damndest to enrich themselves in any way they can, but the broader culture is helping them by reinforcing the message that having nice stuff not only makes you happy but is necessary to gain the respect and admiration of your peers — and the culture is, collectively, us! It’s up to us to create and disseminate an alternative message which, it seems to me, could start with fostering acceptance of one another as we really are.