Consumerism in World History

The Global Transformation of Desire

Peter N. Stearns

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2006
• ISBN:
  9781134156764
• Edition: 2
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: World History
• Index: History

This second edition of Consumerism in World History draws on recent research of the consumer experience in the West and Japan, while also examining societies less renowned for consumerism, such as those in Africa.

By relating consumerism to other issues in world history, this book forces reassessment of our understanding of both consumerism and global history. Each chapter has been updated and new features now include:

• a chapter on Latin America
• Russian and Chinese developments since the 1990s
• the changes involved in trying to bolster consumerism as a response to recent international threats
• examples of consumerist syncretism, as in efforts to blend beauty contests with traditional culture in Kerala.

With updated suggested reading, the second edition of Consumerism in World History is essential reading for all students of world history.

Chapter 1

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Before modern consumerism

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Full-blown consumerism is a modern product. The next chapter will discuss its emergence in Western Europe by the eighteenth century, but before we can usefully discuss its first appearance, we need briefly to discuss its prior absence.

Tackling the nonexistence of a phenomenon in history can get a bit silly. What light on the past, for example, would be shed by a book on the lack of railroads before 1800? Evidence for nonexistence is typically shaky. People do not leave explicit records about their nonparticipation in something they are not aware of.

Yet it is important to sketch how people reacted to material objects, money and shopping before the emergence of modern consumerism, to highlight the change that this emergence involved and, through this, the kinds of causes that combined to bring about major change. This chapter, referring to several different societies before consumerism’s full outcropping, offers a baseline by which subsequent developments can be measured. It also suggests a number of traditional alternatives to consumerism – practices that provided meaning and pleasure without being consumerist – that will help explain why, and on what basis, many groups have resisted consumerism in more recent times.

The most obvious non-consumerist feature of traditional, or pre-modern, societies involved widespread poverty: most people did not regularly have enough margin about subsistence to engage in substantial consumerism. But there is more. In most pre-modern societies fairly rigid social hierarchies existed, and upper-class people disapproved of any sign that elements of the lower classes, even if they had a bit of margin, displayed much individualism or propensity to cross social boundaries through consumer behaviors. And still more: even in upper classes that did show periodic commitment to consumerism, there were recurrent hesitations and counterattacks that limited a consistent consumerist interest. For all classes, other goals – devotion to the public good and/or religion – were meant to override much consumerism. In other words, cultural beliefs, and not just poverty, inhibited consumerism before modern times, and may continue to oppose it even today.

Many of these limitations would continue in modern societies. Poverty, hierarchy, and disapproval hardly disappeared. But in many modern societies their effect was muted because of the rise of consumerist zeal, rather than dominant as in the more traditional antecedents.

Two tricky points

Exploring behavior before consumerism involves two special issues, beyond the general problems of discussing historical nonexistence. Issue one focuses on the upper classes; issue two, less obvious, deals with elements of the masses. Among many aristocracies and wealthy business minorities, there were strong signs of consumer interests before modern times, in many different societies. For analysts who believe that consumerism is a natural human interest, whenever economic conditions allow, there is real evidence – though there is also evidence that consumerism is an acquired taste, against many basic social impulses.

Two scenarios were particularly common, well before the eighteenth century. Many aristocracies came to delight in fancy luxury products and even novelties, defining their class in part by what can only be called a consumer lifestyle. When merchant groups began to grow in size and wealth, as in China during the Tang dynasty, they too established consumer interests in their urban mansions, sometimes of course trying to imitate the lifestyles of the prestigious aristocracy.

Aristocracies rarely began primarily as consumer classes. Most established themselves through prowess in war and/or special political service. They usually seized a higher-than-usual standard of living in the process, but they hardly qualified as ardent consumers. To take an easy example: many feudal warriors in Europe from the fifth through the twelfth centuries CE, even as they ruled the roost politically and militarily, lived in crude conditions, unadorned by any particular amenities. They might boast a little by way of fancy dress, maybe a few tapestries in their exceptionally drafty mansions or castles. They prized objects such as swords and jewels, sometimes attributing magical power to them (as in the Icelandic Njal’s Saga, around 1000 CE), which may have some link to consumerism, and they did eat relatively well, particularly in terms of meat consumption. But they were not fully consumer oriented, even though they had resources well above the norm. Into modern times, groups of nobles continued to live in surprisingly crude conditions. This was true, for example, of provincial gentry in Russia in the nineteenth century. Crudeness partly reflected the fact that living standards, while well above peasant levels, were not very high. Earnings were often partly in kind – surplus food from peasant production – rather than in the money needed for consumer purchases. But crudeness also reflected a lack of interest in consumer refinement, even a disdain for soft ways. Consumerism and upper class status were not automatic companions.

Despite this it is also true that, once established and as political conditions settled, many aristocracies did make a fairly explicit transition to a more affluent style of life. Sometimes a debate ensued between defenders of older simplicity, who criticized the frivolousness of new interests and the decline of conventional martial virtue, and the advocates of greater luxury. Rome went through this debate in the later centuries of the Republic. Many aristocrats were consuming luxury products from Greece and the Eastern Mediterranean, developing a passion for silk imported from China, even as critics deplored their debased taste. The critics’ arguments focussed on softness, a decline of military zeal and devotion to the public good, not unfamiliar in debates about consumerism even today. Arab warriors went through a similar conversion to more opulent consumer interests by the tenth century, as did the European feudal nobility by the thirteenth century. Again, the common signs were a growing interest in fancy clothing, a taste for key imports (such as sugar, in the case of the European nobles, who developed a pronounced sweet tooth after they encountered sugar during the Crusades), plus a growing interest in decorative objects in the home. And there did come a point when aristocracies, at least the wealthiest segments, identified themselves to each other, and differentiated themselves from other groups, in part on grounds of consumer standards.

Much of what amounted to international trade before modern times focussed on consumer products for the upper classes. People in the Mediterranean cherished Chinese silks. The Roman Empire organized regular trips to India to pick up spices to please aristocratic palates. Arabs used African gold to make jewelry. Many Muslim women sought to accumulate jewelry partly as an investment, to provide financial protection for the future, but also for display and personal expression within the confines of the household. By the postclassical period Chinese porcelain was also widely esteemed. Even Mongol rulers in the fourteenth century delighted in furs that came from African animals.

Obviously, a pre-modern consumerism existed that helped upper classes continue to define themselves, often after an earlier, more militaristic period, and that provided clear pleasure. In this sense the most obvious modern feature of consumerism involves its passage well beyond the upper classes – the motives were not new at all. But by the same token, even where aristocratic consumerism was well developed, the larger society did not embrace consumerism; and even for the upper classes, as we will see, a strong current of disapproval persisted.

The second complexity concerning societies before full consumerism involves arguments based on poverty and subsistence economies. Here, attention shifts from the upper classes to the masses, and particularly that majority of people who in agricultural societies lived as peasants in the countryside. Before modern times, and if measured by modern standards, most people were poor: often desperately poor. One fundamental reason for the lack of mass consumerism was this poverty. Furthermore, even people above the most desperate levels often lacked much money. Village economies were geared primarily for production for local self-sufficiency. Trade consisted largely of exchanging goods and services within the region, mainly by barter (this was true in colonial New England into the nineteenth century). In these circumstances, not much money circulated, and opportunities to buy consumer items were accordingly constrained.

But here is where the complexity comes in. Peasants were not uniformly poor. Most villages contained a bit of a hierarchy, with some families acquiring more than the average amount of land and definitely maintaining a margin above literal subsistence. Some sold part of their produce on the market – only through this could city populations be sustained – and so also had some money. But they did not primarily use their margin in consumerist ways. Most peasants and urban artisans who were not simply rock bottom poor had non-consumerist values, and this provides the most interesting target for our brief analysis of societies before consumerism. Artisanal guilds, grouping craft workers in cities in Japan, the Middle East, or Western Europe, deliberately discouraged profit maximization and individual display in favor of group solidarity (including standardized craft dress and recreation).

In sum: agricultural societies before modern consumerism characteristically exhibited pronounced inequality. Aristocracies and urban merchant elites often had opportunities for consumer attachments that were unavailable to the masses of ordinary producers. But pronounced hierarchy is not the only complexity involved. Upper classes themselves were not automatically consumerist. More traditional values, often associated with a warrior past, and also religious interests could limit consumerism even when the means were available. From the standpoint of the masses of people, poverty and subsistence-level economic activities were constraints, but here too there were distinctive values involved. Some people had material means beyond survival but simply did not think in consumerist terms. Here, clearly, is a challenge for further exploration.

Dominant value systems

Well before the eighteenth century, various societies around the world had established pervasive value systems, none of which provided a fertile ground for consumerism. Some, indeed, were quite hostile to any potential consumerism, though since widespread consumerism did not exist, the clash was implicit, not explicit.

Several major religions urged their adherents to focus on spiritual, other-worldly goals and argued that worldly goods detracted from the true purposes of earthly life, which should be directed to salvation in a life to come. The scorn for possessions was particularly strong in Buddhism, which had spread widely in southeast and Eastern Asia. Buddhist holy people begged for their subsistence, and a life of contemplation was held up as an ideal. Worldly pleasures were not only meaningless but also dangerous, as they could distract one from spiritual goals. Hinduism had a similar esteem for a life of denial, though there was more accommodation to social groups, such as merchants, that might value some consumerist display. Here too, however, there was no question that the ultimate values were spiritual, not materialistic. Christianity, the dominant religion of Europe and some other areas including parts of the Americas, was also traditionally suspicious of any devotion to material goals. As with Buddhism, the holiest life was a life of poverty; thus in monasteries and convents individuals often divested themselves of possessions. Wealth itself might be suspect, as in Christ’s statement that it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to gain entry to heaven.

Islam was a bit friendlier to wealth than the other major religions. Merchant activity was compatible with religious goals, and religious leaders approved of profit making, though with certain restrictions. Wealthy people were supposed to give generously to charity for the poor, a fundamental obligation in Islam, and there was no specific discussion of the extent to which remaining earnings might be used for a high standard of living. Finally, as in all the major religions, the real purpose of life was salvation, not enjoyment of material goods. Any attention to wealth that diverted from religious obligations, including regular daily prayer or the pilgrimage to Mecca, was clearly wrong.

Confucianism, the leading belief system of elites in China and some other parts of East Asia, was not a religion at all. It focused on living a good life in society, and, deeply hierarchical, it assumed that the upper class would be wealthy, and appropriately so. But an emphasis on earning wealth, much less spending it in consumerist fashion, was disdained. A gentleman should pay attention to his social obligations and to a life of scholarship, not to blatant spending. Confucian insistence on ritual, including wearing the appropriate costumes, suggested a kind of spending that would not be devoted to novelty or to a joy in acquisition. Ordinary people should not plan on material indulgence at all, for this would contradict appropriate social ranking. Confucian attention to secular rather than religious goals, in other words, created a climate in which consumerism would nevertheless clearly be rejected.

The gap between all the leading religions and secular philosophies and any potential consumerism should not be unduly exaggerated, of course. All the major religions made some peace with wealth, even as they emphasized its threat to holiness. Merchants were a respected caste in Hindu India, and making money was part of being a good merchant. Christian leaders did not systematically attack wealth. By the sixteenth century, the Catholic Church was taking a more sympathetic view of profit making than traditional Christian leaders. Monks might cheat on vows of poverty, and some monasteries became very wealthy, allowing members to live quite well in material terms. The newer Protestant faith, though firmly committed to the primacy of salvation, actually generated some belief that earning money was a sign of God’s favor. (This opening did not include any praise for consumerist display, however.)

Finally, even amid dominant belief systems, individuals might reject or modify approved goals, seeking consumerist joys on their own account. We will see that merchants in many areas, whose activities tested the tolerance both of the leading religions and of Confucianism, often became interested in displaying their success through the acquisition of new goods.

Nevertheless, the tension between leading, well-established value systems and consumerism was important. Upper classes, enjoying a clear margin above subsistence, might be deterred from blatant consumerism by their commitment to religion or Confucianism. Too much display might jeopardize their chance for salvation. In China, using wealth for a life of scholarship might gain more social status than indulgence in the urban high life, given Confucian values. Members of the lower classes, insofar as they were not simply prevented by poverty, might also hesitate about consumerist choices because of their commitment to traditional values.

Furthermore, religion organized some of the impulses that might otherwise seem consumerist (though here, different religions provided different levels of expression; Protestantism, for example, cut back from Catholic levels). Catholic churches were often filled with expensive items – paintings, vestments, even jewelry – designed to glorify God though eye-catching in themselves. Among urban churches some rivalry might develop concerning material display. Mosques stimulated the production of rugs, often breathtaking in design. Even purchases by ordinary people might be justified by spiritual purpose, such as unusually fancy clothing sought for special religious festivals. Interpretation here is tricky. It is easy to argue that purchases for religion could satisfy real consumer interests, but it is equally important to recognize that the interests were not seen as consumerist but rather were devoted to the glory of God.

The disparity between customary value systems and consumerism caused or contributed to three important features in the development of consumerism itself. First, obviously, the disparity helps explain why full consumerism did not exist during most of the long span of world history, even though resources were available above survival level. There is a chicken-and-egg angle here. Did consumerism fail to develop because the value systems inhibited it, or were the value systems partly explainable in terms of the absence of consumerism? Second, traditional value systems would have to change or reduce their hold before consumerism would become possible. We have already noted shifts in Christianity. By the eighteenth century, more secular value systems rivaled even the newer versions of Christianity in Western Europe, as we will discuss in Chapter 3, thus creating a more favorable cultural context. Changes in Confucianism, Islam, Buddhism, and other religions must be considered in exploring the spread of consumerism worldwide.

But third, the power of traditional value systems, even amid change and reduction in authority, helps explain why opposition and guilt would so often surround consumerism once it did gain ground. Consumerist goals so obviously clashed with Confucian harmony or religious otherworldliness that people, despite embracing consumerism, would often wonder about the validity of their own new interests. Here was the clearest legacy of older beliefs to the brave new world of modern consumerism.

The rich and consumption, before modern consumerism

Modern consumerism does not assume equality, but it does from the first, as we will see, cut across social classes to some degree. Indeed, it can blur class lines, though it never erases the effects of wealth or poverty. When discussing consumption the clearest difference between pre-modern and modern societies is the greater pre-modern gap in spending power and spending habits between rich and poor.

This means, in turn, that we expect to see some consumer display on the part of the small portion of society that was wealthy. Even here, however, there were limits, both in the supply of consumer goods and in the proclivity to indulge in consumerism. This section explores both symptoms and limitations, using examples drawn particularly from China, one of the wealthiest pre-modern societies that also boasted a clear if complicated hierarchical structure.

The issue of pre-modern consumerism does not apply to societies that were not agricultural. Hunting and gathering and nomadic societies simply did not generate a great deal of durable surplus. A few social inequalities might show in the greater decoration or more abundant weaponry available to chiefs and leaders, but there was and could be no commitment to regular acquisition beyond necessities.

Nor were consumerist possibilities particularly extensive in agricultural civilizations before about 800 CE. Wealthy people existed in ancient Athens or Han China. Pericles, in Athens, boasted of the abundance of goods, some brought by trade around the Mediterranean. Wealthy people, in cities and countryside alike, had larger houses with more abundant decoration, and their clothing was more luxurious compared to average standards. Perfume and jewelry were available. By the time of the Roman Empire, if not before, some wealthy people took pleasure in wearing gowns – togas – made from silk imported from China. Rome, in the second century BCE, even featured a brief political debate about consumerism and women. During the bitter wars with Carthage, a law had forbidden women to own more than half an ounce of gold or wear multicolored dresses. With the war over, some male politicians urged that women should have the same rights of display as men, including wearing purple togas; while others argued that wasteful luxury would follow. The law was repealed, partly because the politicians recognized that, with no political rights, women should at least have something to take pride in. Wealth, in other words, brought certain luxuries in classical societies, part of the common distinction between rich minority and poor majority.

Even for the rich, however, there were usually some limits. Trade brought in fancy goods but not a recurrent series of novelties. Luxury existed, in other words, but not the constant parade of changing fashions that would characterize modern consumerism. Furthermore, luxury products themselves were often surprisingly uniform, limiting purely personal expressions. Even Rome’s silk togas were standardized, in cut and color, to fit the social category of the aristocratic wearer. There was no sense of using consumption to express great individuality. Luxury existed, but not consumerist fashion.

This situation changed somewhat with advances in upper-class prosperity and in levels of trade in the postclassical period (500–1450 CE). Once the dust settled from the collapse of the great classical empires of Rome, Han China and Gupta India, and as new Afro-Eurasian trade levels developed particularly through the spur of Islamic merchants, aristocrats and some wealthy businessmen had greater opportunity to develop habits that more fully suggested consumerism.

Individual merchants became clear consumerists. In late medieval France, Jacques Coeur built a fancy house in Bourges, filling it with luxury items, some brought back from his travels in the Middle East, and even copying a Middle Eastern bath with running water. A seventeenth-century salt merchant in China, An Lu-tsun, planted orchids all over his home (one of his friends put mechanically controlled nude statues of women in his inner halls, to surprise his guests). An Lu-tsun bought gold foils and watched them drift away from a tower as he released them, and later purchased a series of dolls that he sailed along a local stream. Another competitor designed a huge bronze urinal container for himself, five feet tall, climbing up every night to relieve himself. Merchants of this sort competed with each other in novelties and eccentricities.

There were more general patterns. In China, for example, new luxuries and food and clothing became available to the rich. Previously, drinks such as tea and chocolate had not been available, and even though China produced silk most wealthy people in north China wore coarse hemp cloth. Under the Tang dynasty (618–907) however, things changed. Tea and sugar (this last imported from southeast Asia), and rituals and objects associated with their ...