Thinking of your post on the problems of veganism as a movement vs veganism as a lifestyle choice/one technique amongst many, that also applys super well to my issues with degrowth (And anticonsumerism as well) as a movement vs degrowth as one technique amongst many for dealing with the hydra-crisis of overproduction/resource overuse/destroying people and places for resources.
Like, in particular as an autistic person the continual recurring insistence that we need to just "change our desires" creeps me out. As someone who's difficulties were dismissed as just "having a bad attitude" and who's interests were so often dismissed as a waste of time instead of preparing for a job in the "real world" IDK if they truly understand the full horrifying implications of that line of thought.
So here’s the thing with the concept of “overconsumption”
I had to do this whole project on overconsumption in my Anthropology class where I compared my consumption habits to those of someone 2 generations older, the prof clearly had in mind that we would discover a particular result that I did not end up finding.
I had to watch this documentary called “Affluenza” which was all about how Americans consume too much and they shop and buy things for fun and it’s killing the planet, and it kept making these statements like “The average american does X…” and “X” would be something insane that I’ve never dreamed of doing.
Now I technically grew up below the poverty line, we were always financially insecure and struggling to pay bills and there was never any extra money lying around.
But my upbringing felt average, even privileged. We had a house instead of a trailer on cinder blocks, we had food and clothes. Compared to the upbringing of my mom and virtually everyone she knew growing up, we lived in fabulous luxury.
And the “overconsumption” lesson was bizarre to me because it brought up things like “going shopping for fun once a week” and “owning 20+ pairs of shoes” as if they were normal. I wear my clothes until they’re unwearable and shop for clothes like once a year, and my mom has half as many clothes as I do. She feels guilty buying anything for herself and HATES shopping.
It feels like the dominant resources on living an eco friendly lifestyle presume that we have far more agency in what we buy and use than we actually do, instead of being stuck with the cheapest or closest available thing, and that our lives are full of extraneous, non-essential “consumption.”
That class brought up the idea of “conspicuous consumption” a lot, or buying things to obtain social status instead of for their concrete utility. The way “conspicuous consumption” was addressed in the class was not very immediately relatable to me—I never had the option of buying clothes just to appear “with it” socially. My parents couldn’t buy an extra car to fit the aesthetic of the American dream—we had enough trouble keeping the one we had running. The “conspicuous consumption” that class addressed was just not available to me.
However, I don’t think conspicuous consumption is endemic to stable members of a certain socioeconomic status, because consumption is partially driven by the trauma of poverty. People who grew up poor will buy you more Christmas gifts than you can store or use, because they want to spare you the shame they experienced. Their brains are molded around the trauma of not having enough, and giving you enough is their way of keeping you safe.
Conspicuous consumption as a habit is pushed on you if your ancestors were shaped by this trauma. It is a misrepresentation to think of it as driven by pride, because your ability to perform the behaviors and mimic the appearances of a higher socioeconomic status has a concrete effect on how people treat you.
I know J.D. Vance is a nutjob now and Hillbilly Elegy was…not great (I’m more appalachian than you bitch, and I’m not even appalachian!) but the one thing that book got incredibly right was the idea of “social capital” and the way access to financial security and wealth gives you social capital. This is the main thing the current understanding of “conspicuous consumption” gets wrong—the need to escape the appearance and behaviors of poverty is seen as vain and self-indulgent, when it’s a survival mechanism and it’s something you’re expected to engage in to gain opportunities and respect.
Poverty is humiliating. People with money never think about the fact that they have money. They think of themselves as average, if they think of themselves in terms of socioeconomic status at all. Being poor ends up embedded in the grooves and folds of your brain.
I remember when I was about 12, I gave my friend an informal tour of our house the first time she came over, showing her every room. I realized later that this wasn’t exactly a normal behavior—I had done it because my mom did the same thing when she brought her friend over, and my mom had done it because it was a way of saying look, I survived. Look, I have a place to live to call my own, isn’t this nice?
At its worst, anti-consumerism just reinforces the myth that your consumption is purely a matter of personal choice. And unfortunately when the conversation is ruled by the privileged, this idea will appear substantiated—because rich people can choose the aesthetics of poverty without concretely affecting the way the world treats them. A rich person can choose to live in a “tiny house” but they will never be “trailer trash.”
Anti-consumerism revolves around ideas that are almost irreparably tainted by the mythology of an unequal society. Rich people possess and control the aesthetic of restraint and frugality, allowing them to playact living a Simple Life where they live in a tiny minimalist cottage and eat Healthy Vegan Oat Gruel, while McDonalds is the emblem of American excess. It is poor people’s behaviors and habits that exemplify excess and greed.
Anti-consumerism isn’t going to change anything until it openly confronts the fact that poverty is traumatic and consumption patterns often arise from poverty survival mechanisms.