Coke adds life. Just do it. Yo quiero Taco Bell. We live in a commercial age, awash in a sea of brand names, logos, and advertising jingles―not to mention commodities themselves. Are shoppers merely the unwitting stooges of the greedy producers who will stop at nothing to sell their wares? Are the producers' powers of persuasion so great that resistance is futile?
James Twitchell counters this assumption of the used and abused consumer with a witty and unflinching look at commercial culture, starting from the simple observation that "we are powerfully attracted to the world of goods (after all, we don't call them 'bads')." He contends that far from being forced upon us against our better judgment, "consumerism is our better judgment." Why? Because increasingly, store-bought objects are what hold us together as a society, doing the work of "birth, patina, pews, coats of arms, house, and social rank"―previously done by religion and bloodline. We immediately understand the connotations of status and identity exemplified by the Nike swoosh, the Polo pony, the Guess? label, the DKNY logo. The commodity alone is not what we are after; rather, we actively and creatively want that logo and its signification―the social identity it bestows upon us. As Twitchell summarizes, "Tell me what you buy, and I will tell what you are and who you want to be."
Using elements as disparate as the film The Jerk, French theorists, popular bumper stickers, and Money magazine to explore the nature and importance of advertising lingo, packaging, fashion, and "The Meaning of Self," Twitchell overturns one stodgy social myth after another. In the process he reveals the purchase and possession of things to be the self-identifying acts of modern life. Not only does the car you drive tell others who you are, it lets you know as well. The consumption of goods, according to Twitchell, provides us with tangible everyday comforts and with crucial inner security in a seemingly faithless age. That we may find our sense of self through buying material objects is among the chief indictments of contemporary culture. Twitchell, however, sees the significance of shopping. "There are no false needs." We buy more than objects, we buy meaning. For many of us, especially in our youth, Things R Us.
James B. Twitchell is an American author and former professor of English, known for his work on advertising, consumer culture, and popular media. He earned his BA, MA, and PhD from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. A tenured professor at the University of Florida, Twitchell resigned in 2008 following allegations of plagiarism. Despite this, he remains recognized for his engaging writing style and provocative insights into American cultural and consumer behavior.
I have a lot more to say about this book - but it surpasses my word limits. I contemplated rating this book lower and higher, but found I could not. It is fascinating and infuriating. Twitchell makes wonderful points connecting religion and consumption, each as systems creating meaning for their users, but he does so with off-hand slights to religion that display a lack of complete thought and research. He sees consumption and religion together in the medieval church that must deal with scarcity, but misses R. Laurence Moore's vigorous connection of religion and consumption amid the American plenty of the 19th and 20th centuries - see Moore's excellent book Selling God).
I appreciate Twitchell's point that "Consumerism is not forced on us. It is not against our better judgment. It is (at least for much of our lives) our better judgment. We are powerfully attracted to the world of goods." (11) In saying this he defends the common consumer against the theories of academics who posit individual helplessness against manipulating commercial forces. Fair enough. But then he spends a good deal of the book talking about advertising and marketing techniques that encourage consumption by providing meaning to the goods we purchase. What he thus describes is a cultural influence, not any direct manipulation by producers, but by the creation of a spiritual environment, a spiritual world of goods, that competes with religion on a spiritual level.
"What is clear is that most of these things in and of themselves simply do not mean enough. So we have developed very powerful ways to add meaning to goods.... [in part through advertising and marketing] Consumption of things and their meanings is how most Western young people cope in a world that science has pretty much bled of traditional religious meanings." (12) Without religion we create ourselves, remaking our identities, through the goods we possess. (Walker Percy would throw in sex and violence to the mix) It is a fascinating concept, too bad Twitchell asserts it and then moves on to show how that meaning comes not from the consumer, but from advertising (to me greatly undermining his claims against the theorists). He offers not social science to back these assertions or even to provide further insights, instead he talks about the many categories marketers have divided the America populace into (and how very accurate they are). I find I am no longer interesting to those marketers, being over 34 and set in my consuming ways.
Twitchell's lack of moral response to this corporate creation of meaning is what gets me in the end. He claims a democracy in our creation of meaning, seemingly forgetting the advertisers role, much more active than any priest or religion in the past. His celebration of purchasing goods as a good end and a worthy successor to religion obviously does not sit well with my faith. His book is not without moral commentary, but it is entirely without outrage. For someone operating out of a Christian worldview this provokes thought (and not a little fear at where I and the Christian culture I live in finds its meaning), but cannot be a complete and comprehensive word on advertising and the human search for meaning.
I don't agree that the Christian religion and materialism are as exchangeable as Twitchell presents them here, but I do think he makes some valid points about both. He didn't have to convince me that some people view possessions, or a particular set or type of possessions, with practically a religious fervor, or that they define themselves by what they own and by what they crave, because I see that all the time. But as someone who views Christianity as something more than "pie in the sky by-and-by," I think his comparison falls apart because Christianity offers something that consumerism never will.
I think he is precisely right when he says:
"If we craved objects and knew what they meant, there would be no signifying systems like advertising, packaging, fashion, and branding to get in the way. We would gather, use, toss out, or hoard based on some inner sense of value.
"It is that inner sense of value that we don’t have."
and also when he says,
"Consumption of things and their meanings is how most Western young people cope in a world that science has pretty much bled of traditional religious meanings."
As he points out, most "needs" beyond the most basic (food, shelter, reproduction) are cultural -- social needs, in other words. As a Christian, I would also argue that there are spiritual needs, but either way, people value things in our culture because of what those things mean to them.
People "need" this or that because what they want to buy symbolizes their place within society. A guy who has a BMW has "made it." A woman who buys Gucci is buying glamor. A guy who owns a 4WD pickup is identifying with being manly and free. And so on. People crave things because they believe those things will give them identity and meaning. And, to some extent, that happens -- people identify with others who buy the same sorts of things they do, to the point where someone can move halfway across the country and their things will help them find "their people."
"Hey, you drive a 4WD? So do I!"
"I love your Dooney and Bourke! Have you seen the latest?"
As Twitchell points out, people's materialism can provide a lot of social connection. I'm less convinced when he argues that materialism can replace or fulfill people's spiritual needs; certainly it works that way with some, but it fails miserably with many. I actually agree with him that there are social benefits to materialism -- I've long recognized that I benefit by others' willingness to pay "first costs", for example -- but I think he ignores some of the social costs of materialism that are pertinent.
I read his book on Luxury first, and there's a lot of repeated material, but there was enough new stuff to keep me going. He offers me something new and interesting often enough that the rambling and repetition didn't bother me.
This is a witty and fun book to read. The author provides a well-researched guide to consumerism with an almost tongue-in-cheek attitude. The history of modern advertising is discussed along with some of the psychological insights and shibboleths of the business. He argues that consumers are not victims of commercialism but have eagerly participate in it. He attacks a host of critics of commercialism, including Thorstein Veblen, Vance Packard, Ralph Nader and John Kenneth Galbraith, Effectively rejecting their arguments. The result is a thorough and irreverent view that shares the wealth of capitalism resulting from the "age of consumerism".
starting with the bullshit premise that more people are living better today than at any other time in history, this book makes the case for materialism as the major positive force behind our supposed blissful lives. between ad hominem attacks on the authors of research and opinions that he disagrees with, and faulty premises, this book is pretty useless even if you had technical questions you needed answered about the way our consumer society reproduces and maintains itself. try naomi klein's No Logo or any number of other books instead. whatever the author is smoking, it is rare and not available to the rest of us.