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Woke Capitalism and Moral Commodities

photograph of multi-colored shipping containers loaded on boat

This piece is part of an Under Discussion series. To read more about this week’s topic and see more pieces from this series visit Under Discussion: “Woke Capitalism.”

Many have started to abandon the usage of the term “woke” since it is more and more used in a pejorative sense by ideological parties – as Charles M. Blow states “‘woke’ is now almost exclusively used by those who seek to deride it, those who chafe at the activism from which it sprang.” What the term refers to has become increasingly ambiguous to the point that it seems useless. As early as 2019, Damon Young was suggesting that “woke floats in the linguistic purgatory of terms coined by us that can no longer be said unironically,” and David Brooks concluded that no small  part of wokeism was simply the intellectual elite showing off with “sophisticated” language.

But when the term rose to popularity in 2016, it was referring to a kind of awareness of public issues, and “became the umbrella purpose for movements like #blacklivesmatter (fighting racism), the #MeToo movement (fighting sexism, and sexual misconduct), and the #NoBanNoWall movement (fighting for immigrants and refugees).” And new fronts are always opening up.

Discussions of “Woke Capitalism” tend to focus on corporate and consumer activism. Tyler Cowen has also pointed out the importance of wokeism as a new, uniquely American cultural export that may fundamentally change the world. And, indeed, despite the post-mortems, “woke” remains in the lexicon of both political parties.

Even though the term “woke” has fallen out of favor, I suspect there is a mostly unaddressed aspect of wokeism that needs reconsideration. There may very well be a new mode of consumption just beginning to dominate the market: commodities as moral entities.

How does this happen? Let’s consider what differentiates Woke Capitalism from more familiar moral considerations about market relations and discuss how products have become moral entities through comparison to non-woke products.

It is not just about moral considerations: In any decision-making process, it is natural for some moral considerations to arise. In the case of market relations, any number of factors – the company’s affiliations, its production methods, the status of workers, the trustworthiness of the company, etc. – may prove decisive. Traditionally, as in the case of moral appeal in marketing – “If you are a good parent, you should buy this shoe!” – there seems to be a necessity to link a moral consideration with a company or a product. With Woke Capitalism, this relation is transformed: an explicit link is no longer necessary. All purchasing is activism – one cannot help but make a statement with what they choose to buy and what they choose to sell.

It is not just corporate or consumer activism: The moral debate about Woke Capitalism mainly revolves around the sincerity of companies and customers in support of social justice causes. And that discussion of corporate responsibility often revisits the Shareholder vs. Stakeholder Capitalism distinction.

Corporate or consumer activism seems to be making use of the market as a way of demonstrating the moral preferences of individuals or a group. It can be seen as a way to support what is essentially important to us. Vote with your dollar. As such, most discussions focus on this positive reinforcement side of Woke Capitalism.

What is lost in this analysis of Woke Capitalism, however, is the production of Woke Products which forces consumers take sides with even the most basic day-to-day purchases.

How should we decide between two similarly-priced products according to this framing: a strong stain remover or a mediocre stain remover that helps sick children; a gender-equality supporting cereal or a racial-equality supporting cereal. Each of these decisions brings some imponderable trade-off with it: What’s more important – the health of children or stain-removing strength? Which problem deserves more attention – gender inequality or racial inequality?

Negation of Non-Woke: The main problem with these questions is not that some of them are unanswerable, absurd, or impossible to decide in a short time. Instead, the problem is the potential polarizing effect of its relational nature. Dan Ariely suggests, in his book Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shapes Our Decisions, that we generally decide by focusing on the relativity – people often decide between options on the basis of how they relate to one another. He gives the example of three houses which have the same cost. Two of them are in the same style. One is a fixer-upper. In such a situation, he claims, we generally decide between the same style houses since they are easier to compare. In this case, the alternatively-styled house will not be considered at all.

In the case of wokeness, the problem is that it is quite probable that non-woke products will be ignored altogether. With our minds so attuned to the moral issue, all other concerns fade away.

Woke Capitalism creates a marketplace populated entirely by woke, counter-woke, and anti-woke products. Market relations continue to be defined by this dynamic more and more. As such, non-woke products are becoming obsolete. Companies must accommodate this trend and present themselves in particular ways, not necessarily because they want to, but because they are forced to. And this state of affairs feels inescapable; there is no breaking the cycle. Even anti-woke and counter-woke marketing feed that struggle. All consumption becomes a moral statement in a never-ending conflict.

To better see what makes Woke Capitalism unique (and uniquely dangerous), consider this comparison:

Classic moral consideration: Jimmy buys Y because Y conforms to his moral commitments.

Consumer activism: Jimmy buys Y because Y best signals his support for a deeply-held cause.

Woke Capitalism: Jimmy buys Y because purchasing products is necessary for his moral identity.

This is not just consumer activism whereby customers seek representation. Instead, commodities turn into fundamentally moral entities – building blocks for people to construct and communicate who they are. As morality becomes increasingly understood in terms of one’s relationship to commodities, a moral existence depends on buying and selling. Consumption becomes identity. “I buy, therefore – morally – I am.”

Time for a Paradigm Shift: COVID-19 and Human Consumption

photograph of pangolin lumbering toward camera in barren landscape

There is much that we still don’t know about COVID-19. To attain a more adequate understanding of the virus, we need to know where it originated and how it passes from one being to another. To control the outbreak and to reduce the likelihood that this will happen with great frequency in the future, it’s important that it’s not only scientists and medical professionals who have this knowledge. The general public needs to understand how human action contributes to tragedies of this magnitude. After all, this pandemic is just one plot line in a much longer and more complicated story about the human relationship with the natural world.

Conspiracy theories abound on the topic of the origin of the virus, some of which spread rapidly because their advocates have large megaphones. Some people believe that it was whipped up in a laboratory at the request of Bill Gates. In a 2015 Ted Talk, Gates warned that one of the most probable causes of future significant loss of life would be an epidemic. His remarks were offered, in part, in response to the Ebola outbreak in 2014, and, in particular, on what he took to be an inadequate response to that outbreak by the international community. He suggested that the Ebola outbreak should serve as a wakeup call, prompting us to prepare for the pandemic to come. He explained the conditions under which a new, faster virus might spread and offered suggestions for how we might be prepared. Conspiracy theorists used this as evidence that Gates had some prior knowledge of the outbreak—prior knowledge that he only could have had if he was responsible for the creation of the virus. Gates has advocated for digital markers to keep track of spread and testing status. Some have interpreted that as a call for human beings to be implanted with microchips so that they can be monitored and controlled by powerful people.

Other conspiracy theorists believe that COVID-19 is caused by 5G technology. In a textbook case of a false cause fallacy, people observed that 5G towers were constructed in hard hit areas shortly before the virus began to spread. They concluded that 5G towers emitted radiation that activated the coronavirus, and that this was all a plot by the Powers That Be to depopulate the earth.

What we believe about the origin of the virus matters. This pandemic has consequences that are so significant that they are likely to motivate action, even in the case of people who might not otherwise be motivated much to change their regular practices. For example, a person who genuinely believes that COVID-19 is activated by 5G networks is likely to do whatever is in their power not to live next to a 5G tower, and there is a good chance that they will publicly advocate against the technology. People who believe Bill Gates is using the technology to control the global population will be unlikely to participate in any form of digital monitoring, even if such monitoring looks nothing like an implanted microchip.

It’s vital that people understand that we are dealing with a zoonotic virus, which means that it originated in other animals and then spread to human beings. There is some scientific consensus that the virus originated in horseshoe bats. The evidence for this is the strong similarity between the genetic sequence of the bat coronavirus and the genetic sequence of the virus that causes COVID-19. More recently, evidence has suggested that pangolins served as an intermediary, transmitting the virus from bats to humans.

Many in the west have probably never heard of pangolins, but they are the world’s most trafficked animals. They live in the woodlands and savannas of Southern, Central, and Eastern Africa and in various locations in Asia. They are unique because they are the only mammals with scales. When a pangolin encounters a predator, it will roll up into a ball and its scales will provide a protective armor, rendering it virtually impenetrable to the lions, tigers, and leopards that might attempt to eat it.

The scales of the pangolin have historically been used for more than just armor against predators. For thousands of years, local tribes have used the animals for medicinal purposes. An article in a 1938 volume of Nature describes this practice:

“The animal itself is eaten, but a greater danger arises from the belief that the scales have medicinal value. Fresh scales are never used, but dried scales are roasted, washed, cooked in oil, butter, vinegar, boy’s urine, or roasted with earth or oyster-shells, to cure a variety of ills. Amongst these are excessive nervousness and hysterical crying in children, women possessed by devils and ogres, malarial fever and deafness.”

One might think that practices have changed since 1938, but they haven’t. Pangolin scales are still frequently used in traditional Chinese medicine. We aren’t dealing only with local trade; this practice frequently crosses continents. In fact, pangolins are sold so frequently that experts believe that they certainly would have been present at the Wuhan wet market at which the virus is originally believed to have transferred to humans.

Different creatures respond to different viruses differently. An animal living in its native habitat may carry a virus that doesn’t ultimately cause it or any other creature in its immediate ecosystem any real problems. When human beings enter that ecosystem and change the dynamic, there can be devastating consequences. Viruses can be transmitted to creatures, including humans, that don’t have immunities or have bodies that are poorly suited to cope well with the virus.

There are several moral lessons we can learn from these facts to help us usher in a safer, healthier future. First, we ought to form our beliefs about the origin of disease on the basis of the evidence provided by those that study the disease, rather than on the basis of fear or confirmation bias. Coronaviruses come from animals, not from cell phone towers. This may seem like a fairly straightforward point, but the resolution of this problem, if there is one, is not as obvious as it may seem. It may be the case that, at least sometimes, people don’t choose their beliefs. Instead, at least some beliefs might be the kinds of things with which people just find themselves. A person’s belief formation practices are likely to be, at least in part, a product of environment and habituation. This means that creating a citizenry that knows how to evaluate these global problems is a social project rather than purely an individual exercise.

Second, we need to recognize COVID-19 as part of a larger environmental catastrophe caused, in part, by anthropocentrism. We treat the natural world and the living beings that call it home as mere things to be consumed. We’re prepared to commodify just about anything. To say that this tendency has come at the cost of the well-being of other creatures and the resilience and sustainability of global ecosystems would be an understatement.

Finding solutions to problems of this magnitude is difficult and complex, but one step in the right direction may be to recognize that beings other than humans can value things and beings other than humans are valuable. Humans don’t stand outside of or above the kingdom of living things, they are part of that kingdom. The fact that they have the capacity to dominate and destroy doesn’t mean that they should dominate and destroy. To do so is to fail to recognize important goods in the world.

Some might object and say that no one could have foreseen this. Traditional cultural practices are valuable and, all things being equal, they ought to be preserved. Those who practice traditional Chinese medicine and people who sell pangolins in wet markets are acting in ways that are respectful of their cultural values and necessary for preserving their way of life. The fact that a virus spread is just something that happens sometimes, for which no one is really responsible. In this way, it is much like a natural disaster, like an earthquake or a hurricane.

The problem is, the spread of a disease like this is something that we can reasonably foresee. We know that zoonotic viruses exist—we’ve encountered plenty of them. We know that we can limit the spread by leaving animals unmolested in their natural ecosystems. The spread of this kind of virus isn’t analogous to a natural disaster because we actually bear significant causal responsibility for the consequences of removing animals from those ecosystems.

These problems are also social problems with deep roots. The spread of the virus is an indictment of all kinds of social and political systems. If people feel forced into poaching animals so that they can make money to survive, that says something about the way that wealth on this planet is distributed. If people feel that they must purchase pangolin scales on a black market to cure disease, that says something about access to health care and to education. If people feel that animals must be slaughtered in wet markets to provide food for local populations, that says something about our lack of effort to implement sustainable, humane sources of food for a growing global population.

This isn’t just about this pandemic. More pandemics are inevitable if we don’t change our practices. What’s more, the problems described here are the same problems that give rise to species extinction, forest depletion, soil degradation, ocean acidification, and global warming. It’s time for a paradigm shift.

Plant-Based Meat Substitutes, Sensational Reporting, and Information Literacy

Close-up photograph of a hand holding vegan McDonalds burger

2019 has been a good year for plant-based meat replacements. In January, Carl’s Junior launched their Beyond Famous Star Burger, made with the plant-based Beyond Meat. The Mexican food franchise Del Taco launched tacos made with Beyond Meat at all of their franchises in April. The introduction of the vegan alternative has been a smash success, leading the company to release two additional products made with Beyond Meat to their menu in June of this year. Many other restaurants have recognized the consumer interest in meat-free options. Restaurants such as Burger King, White Castle, A&W, and Red Robin offer products made with Impossible burger, a plant-based competitor to Beyond Meat. 

Now, one might respond, “but haven’t plant based alternatives existed for quite some time?” After all, most people can’t remember a time when they haven’t been able to purchase a veggie patty from their local supermarket. These alternatives are different. They have been designed, not simply to provide a substitute for meat, but to provide an option that is so similar to beef in taste and texture that few consumers are able to tell the difference.

By May of this year, Impossible raised 300 million dollars in Series E funding, generating investments from individuals like Jay-Z, Serena Williams, Alexis Ohanian, Katy Perry, and Jaden Smith. When Beyond Meat went public in May, it was, according to Business Insider, “the best performing first-day IPO in nearly two decades.”

The success of plant-based substitutes is an unmitigated good thing. A move away from meat consumption is critical for a healthy environment. Animal agriculture accounts for 14.5-18% of all global greenhouse gas emissions. This makes animal agriculture the second biggest contributor to greenhouse gas emissions after the burning of fossil fuels. Animal agriculture also contributes to pollution of land, water and air, deforestation, and loss of biodiversity. 

Environmental considerations matter for our futures and for the futures of our children. They also matter for all of the other species of living beings on earth. But movement away from meat is important for reasons beyond impacts on the environment. We have a direct obligation to the animals being consumed. Given the fact that it isn’t necessary for humans to consume flesh to survive, many believe that animals ought not be made to sacrifice their lives because we enjoy how their dead bodies taste. What we should be striving for, as philosopher Tom Regan elegantly put it, is “Not larger cages, empty cages.”

Even those who aren’t sympathetic to that argument might be sympathetic to arguments related to animal welfare. One might think that it isn’t wrong to kill animals for food, so long as those animals are treated humanely and killed painlessly. The fact of the matter is that this simply isn’t the reality of how the meat for our tables is produced. Most meat is produced in factory farms. In these places, animals are treated as things rather than as living beings. They are treated as products to be mass produced rather than as creatures capable of experiencing a wide range of sensations including pleasure, pain, anxiety, and grief. Conditions in these places are appalling—animals are given very little room to move around, they experience existences of perpetual anxiety and pain, and there are no steps to see to it that these beings live their lives in a way that would constitute flourishing for members of their species. The appearance on the market of plant-based alternatives that taste so similar to meat that many tasters can’t tell the difference is truly a remarkable achievement. We have the power to ameliorate all of this suffering and death and still satisfy carnivorous palates.

The fact that meat substitutes are doing so well is big news. Predictably, in the current click-bait news climate, eye-catching headlines and sensationalist news stories are easy to find, and they spread across social media like a virus. Among other things, many news articles raise concerns about the nutritional value of substitutes like Beyond Meat and Impossible meat. All one needs to do is search for news stories about the nutritional value of a given meat substitute to find plenty of noteworthy examples. Consider the story Are Beyond Meat and Impossible Burgers Better for You? Nutritionists Weigh In, published in the Huffington Post on July 10th, 2019. The first concern that the nutritionist lists in the article has to do with protein. The protein content in these products is high—Beyond Burger contains 20 grams of protein and Impossible contains 19 grams. The levels are actually higher than the protein content one finds in ground beef with the recommended 20% fat. It can’t be, then, that these meat replacements don’t contain enough protein. Instead, the nutritionist’s complaint is that the proteins are processed. She expresses her concern, “The problem with a lot of additives is that we just don’t know the long-term effects of them, whereas a beef burger could just be one ingredient: beef.” She makes it clear, of course, that the problem with these products is not in average consumption, but in overconsumption. The average reader is likely left with the impression that we simply don’t know whether the contents of these products are healthy or not. A common takeaway, therefore, may be that, because we might not know the long-term effects of processed plant products, we should stick with tried and true beef. What she fails to point out in the article is that there are things about overconsumption of red meat that we do know—such consumption has been linked to both cancer and heart disease. Heart disease is the leading cause of death in the United States.

The nutritionist also raises concern about the amount of sodium in these meat replacement products—the Beyond Burger has 390 milligrams of sodium and Impossible has 370. This is, granted, much more sodium than is contained in beef. That said, these sodium levels aren’t, all things considered, high. The American Heart Association recommends no more than 2,300 milligrams of sodium per day and suggests that people average around 1,500 milligrams. Use of one of these meat alternatives as the main source of protein in a meal is certainly compatible with satisfying these recommendations.

The style of reporting in these stories is familiar—it is designed to raise concerns in the reader’s mind about the nutritional value of these products for the purposes of increased readership. In the end, the concerns, though presented as serious, are completely innocuous. Reporting on topics of consumption of all types is frequently this way. Consumption is a big part of life. Arguably, one of the most difficult aspects of living is achieving a healthy balance when it comes to consumption. Many people turn to the Internet to help them navigate the rocky terrain. When the stakes are this high, reporters shouldn’t scare consumers away with misplaced concerns about nutrition.

Should Pointless Jobs Exist?

Photograph of people at a booth in front of a partially obscured sign that says "Welcome Business Advisors"

Editor’s note: This article contains use of a vulgarity.

In 1899, Thorstein Veblen published “A Theory of the Leisure Class.” Veblen was a Norwegian-American economist who coined the famous term “conspicuous consumption.” Veblen argued that the ostentatious freedom from useful occupation and its symbols, such as excess possessions and elaborate hobbies, established and organized one’s power and status within a social hierarchy. Conspicuous consumption signals social status by displaying one’s dispensation from productive labour.  

One manifestation of such status for high-ranking persons (or organizations) is the proliferation of decorative underlings. These are “specialized servants…useful more for show than for service actually performed…[their] utility comes to consist, in great part, in their conspicuous exemption from productive labour and in the evidence which this exemption affords of their master’s wealth and power.”  

Veblen’s unflinching analysis contrasted with optimistic predictions for social and economic progress in his time. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, both Marxian and capitalist theories foresaw a reduction of labour in the future which would free up workers for self-directed, human-centred pursuits.  

Unfortunately, these prophecies have not been fulfilled. Marx’s proposed six-hour day was never implemented by Soviet regimes. Contemporary capitalism similarly shows little sign of diminishing work hours, flatly contradicting John Maynard Keynes’ prediction that the twenty-first century would usher in a fifteen-hour work week.  

Instead, Veblen’s anthropological observations have again become relevant. Labour has not been reduced commensurately to technological advances, in part due to an increase in service industries. David Graeber, in his recently published book Bullshit Jobs: A Theory (Simon and Schuster, 2018), notes that despite increasing automation of many fields, new service sectors have emerged. These include financial services, academic and health administrators, human resources and public relations professionals, managers, clerks, salespeople, members of traditional service sectors, and what Graeber calls the “subsidiary industries.” Subsidiary industries maintain service sectors by providing still more specific services, such as all-night pizza delivery or dog-washing, for example. All of these fall under the definition of what Graeber calls “bullshit jobs.”

A bullshit job, according to Graeber, is generally indicated by the secret belief of the person who does the job that their work is unnecessary. He acknowledges that this definition can be somewhat subjective – as “there can be no objective measure of social value.”  But Graeber expands his definition. He notes that ill effects to society would be felt fairly quickly if nurses, garbage collectors, teachers, mechanics, and even fiction writers were disappeared. But, he asks, would anything change – or change for the worse – if administrators, public relations personnel, hedge fund managers, subcontractors for subcontractors, sales representatives, telemarketers, and many service industries were eliminated?  

In making his analysis, Graeber highlights the inverse proportion between the social utility of work and its financial recompense in a move that is reminiscent of feminist economic critique (regarding the unpaid or underpaid work of women in health, education, and caring work). The most essential workers – i.e. those who do jobs without which society could not function – are generally underpaid and under-respected (with the notorious exception of doctors). In contrast, many of the “bullshit jobs” Graeber describes are well-compensated. This phenomenon could certainly be read in light of Veblen’s analysis that inessential workers are luxurious expenses designed to prop up the reputation of their employers, corporations, or clients.  

Graeber attributes this state of affairs to a still more disturbing explanation – class division to maintain the power structure of finance capitalism:

Real, productive workers are relentlessly squeezed and exploited. The remainder are divided between a terrorized stratum of the universally reviled unemployed and a larger stratum who are basically paid to do nothing, in positions designed to make them identify with the perspectives and sensibilities of the ruling class (managers, administrators, etc.).  

This account is reminiscent of that of philosopher Iris Young, who noted a “professional class,” i.e. those who benefit from the exploitation of the working class and yet are not a part of the capitalist class.  According to this part of the theory, bullshit jobs would function as a buffer between the capitalist and the working classes.

While many who belong to this “bullshit job” class could be considered as privileged relative to most essential workers (always saving the exception of doctors), the existence of bullshit jobs points to a spiritual malaise that Graeber discusses in his text. “How can one even begin to speak of dignity in labour when one secretly feels one’s job should not exist?”

While Graeber and others point to power structures as the root cause of “bullshit jobs,” like Marx, he ascribes an ideological component that justifies them culturally.  The cult of work for work’s sake is one such cultural idea, which Graeber also links to social power structures as their root cause:

“The ruling class has figured out that a happy and productive population with free time on their hands is a mortal danger. (Think of what started to happen when this even began to be approximated in the sixties.) And, on the other hand, the feeling that work is a moral value in itself, and that anyone not willing to submit themselves to some kind of intense work discipline for most of their waking hours deserves nothing, is extraordinarily convenient for them.” (Graeber, page xviii).

While Graeber’s analysis of “bullshit jobs” deserves further analysis, this lens provides a deep look at the distribution of power, labour, capital, leisure, and prestige in contemporary economies. This lens strongly indicates that nineteenth-century observations on capitalism, classism, and consumerism continue to be relevant in theorizing and strategizing solutions to contemporary inequality and to the problem of alienated labor.

Will Changes in Meat Consumption Redefine the U.S. Food System?

An image of chickens at a poultry farm

In 2017, a plant-based diet became tremendously popular. The growing demand for alternative proteins motivated grocery stores and food companies to offer more alternatives to meat proteins, which has been reflected in consumer behavior patterns. However, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, production in the U.S. beef, pork, and broiler industries is expected to increase in 2018. For the record, the U.S. Department of Agriculture has estimated that 2018 will hold the highest per capita consumption of meat since the U.S. record set back in 2004. The U.S. Department of Agriculture estimates that the average consumer is projected to eat 222.8 pounds of red meat and poultry in 2018.

Continue reading “Will Changes in Meat Consumption Redefine the U.S. Food System?”

The Right to Gluttony: Sustainability vs. Individual Rights

What if one day in the near future, on your family’s weekend trip to Texas Roadhouse to TGI Friday’s, steak was no longer offered on the menu? No mouth-watering 8 ounce sirloin specials or baby back ribs to satisfy your protein craving? While for the average American this may seem like a dystopian scene out of a George Orwell novel, these dietary restrictions may very well be necessary for a sustainable future. For the United States, the main dilemma will surround individual rights—whether rights guarantee each person to eat as much as they choose, even if it will be detrimental to the sustainability of humanity.

Continue reading “The Right to Gluttony: Sustainability vs. Individual Rights”