'Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping', Judith Levine

Sometimes I’m a glutton for punishment. Despite the nature of my job (of which more later) I am masochistically drawn towards books on anti-consumerism, anti-globalisation and the like. It certainly makes for interesting dinner party conversation when people from work are round and wonder why I have a bookshelf of Naomi Klein and Noreena Hertz. So I’ve done it again – this time, by reading journalist Judith Levine’s account of living for a year without buying anything.

Levine’s project started following a particularly miserable day leading up to Christmas when she found herself miserable, anxious and stressed out by the shopping hoardes, prompting the question, what if I simply drop out of this consumer culture? I have a significant amount of sympathy for this thought. I felt a profound contentment when I lived for six months in Malawi, totally detached from being a consumer of any significant kind (excepting the food we bought at the market, and the occasional African souvenir); I often feel a similar relief when I’m on holiday, particularly in developing countries, wearing the same clothes every day, not doing my hair, not thinking at all about what to buy or being exposed to shops or advertising. After a period of adjustment, I enjoyed living in Geneva where the shopping was ‘’bad’’ compared to the UK (Chanel, Dior or H&M are your options) and hence I stopped shopping as a leisure activity, constraining it to bi-annual gluttonous bouts when I came home for holidays. What is clear for me is that the very act of going to the shops creates a desire, and the simple fact that you can’t have everything, makes you feel frustrated. Don’t go to the shops, don’t feel the desire. But even this state of affairs wasn’t, and isn’t, entirely satisfactory, as every Christmas I end up home in Scotland in a frenzy of buying which after two or three days makes me depressed and wondering what all the excitement was about.

So I can see the appeal of Levine’s venture. However despite it being a simple principle (‘’only buy what’s necessary’’), most of the book is taken up with a prolonged debate about what we need vs. what we desire, why we feel so strongly about the matter in the first place, and what should be done about it and by whom.

The concept of ‘’need’’ is one of the most interesting. Levine and her husband argue about this; for them, it’s about things like wine and theatre tickets. But it’s entirely relative – what one person feels they ‘’need’ is radically different from another. And frankly, who’s to tell someone they can’t have what someone else has? (The frequently quoted statistics about the environmental impact of all the Chinese population buying a car is a typical example of the difficulty). Many consumer items make life tangibly easier and free up time which could be used for more worthwhile pursuits. Granted, most people don’t do that, but just re-invest the time in buying something else, but surely that’s up to the individual? Another murky area for Levine was when the profit for the good she wanted would go towards something worthy – such as buying tickets for a charity concert, or buying clothes in a second hand store. She noted that even when trying to distance herself from the consumer economy, she was inevitably woven back into it.

Over the year, Levine inevitably wanted to buy things and had to restrain herself, which brought up the question of why she felt she wanted them in the first place, and why was it such an emotional strain. In large, it linked back to the concept of being an independent adult – without money you are like a child, reliant on other people’s care and kindness, and with a limited ability to control your life or surroundings. In our society having money and being able to buy and own things defines you as a citizen. Even some of the most extreme people Levine met, such as a friend living on $5000 a year in a log cabin, was still defined by his ownership of the shelter. There’s also an interesting question about the more aesthetic side of buying things. Levine lusted after some clothes (which she did in fact cave in and buy) because they were so beautiful – and why not? A lot of impulse shopping is driven by a desire to own things of beauty; it may not be functional but you could argue exactly the same about art.

So then, if buying and owning things is not wrong per se, but the rabid obsession with it is, then who should be responsible for driving change? Ultimately corporations are only interested in making money and driving shareholder value, but that means providing things which consumers want; manufacturers can only survive if there is demand. Therefore a lot of power is in the individual who has a free will to choose to buy whatever they want. Levine leans heavily on the side of government regulation to control corporations to keep in line and not discard human rights in the path of profit; she is skeptical of the ability of individual consumers to make any difference. This, I think, ignores the fundamental supply and demand of the market place – goods are developed to meet consumer needs and wants, so of course consumers have influence, but they need to be aware that they are trying to be persuaded. And that’s part of being a grown up – understanding there are different agents trying to influence you in different ways, and choosing your own route.

The final ambiguity Levine highlights is that of the people involved in the anti-consumer movements. She recognizes a lot of self-righteousness, moral inconsistency and hypocrisy, particularly amusingly with the head of the Take Back Your Time group who’s unable to find time to meet her for the next four months. She herself is prone to this – a friend points out that if she’s to carry out her experiment properly she shouldn’t really be telling people what she’s doing, or they will excuse her and make allowances, and attempt to compensate for her lack of buying (which is exactly what happens). Levine attempts to dampen her sense of moral superiority, but frankly she doesn’t manage.

This ambiguity and frustration led me to really like this book; it’s not ‘’buying is bad, not-buying is good’’, but acknowledges the way in which consumerism is ingrained into our society and complexity of the situation. The elephant in the room, of course, is that my job is perpetuating precisely this culture which I am so uneasy about. ‘’Meeting the needs of consumers’’ is the lifeblood of a culture which encourages unending and escalating consumption, and has an unsustainable end. Marketing is what prompts people to believe that this next purchase will be the one that changes their lives in a simple cash exchange rather than any meaningful effort on their own part. For sure, I have been ‘’lucky’’ in a way to work on products which can be strongly argued are a ‘’need’’, but I can’t argue that the way in which they are marketed and sold is simply to meet this ‘’need’’. And yet, if you take the argument to it’s logical end, you must really renounce the right of corporations to pursue their own growth and generation of wealth as a goal; and hence, the whole capitalist system. Which sounds very grandiose, but I don’t see another logical outcome. This is the point at which I become confused and instinctively feel that the right way is some path whereby corporations are allowed to continue their search for share growth but restricted and guided by strong government regulation, and where consumer action can dictate what those corporations do (after all, if people don’t buy something, corporations will stop making it). Does that make me right wing, left wing, stupid? No idea. The one thing I do know is that the whole issue makes my head hurt and is what I regularly come back to in my six-monthly cycle of job-anxiety and ‘’what’s it all about’’. For now I will concentrate on my own consumption in a bid to enhance my own happiness. Then perhaps I’ll work on everything else.