The Rebel Sell

I haven't done too much the past two weeks other than move and do homework, but I did finally get around to reading "The Rebel Sell" by Joseph Heath & Andrew Potter.

It came out about 4 years ago following the publication of a rash of anti-capitalist books such as "No Logo" and "Culture Jam". In the US it was published as "Nation of Rebels: Why Counterculture Became Consumer Culture."

It's a well-articulated critique of the countercultural idealogy that has been prevalent since the 1960s. The authors argue that "the myth of the counterculture" [...] "has been one of the most powerful forces driving consumer capitalism for the past 40 years."

The authors, both about age 40, weave anecdotes from their former existences as anti-capitalist punks who frequented Critical Mass rallies with responses to anti-corporate texts and fairly comprehensive research, to argue that the counterculture is actually a fairly significant part of the capitalist "system" rather than a threat to it.

They identify the 2003 release of the Adbusters "Blackspot" sneaker as the epitome of capitalism existing under the guise of countercultural revolution.

You know that I would identify with this book. Although I definitely don't consider myself a member of the minivan majority, you've probably heard my rants about the people who started going to Critical Mass rallies in 2007 and therefore considered themselves cultural revolutionaries. Or my arguments that while, I support the anti-consumerist ideals behind "Buy Nothing Day," it's totally ineffectual if you stock up on stuff the day before as opposed to reducing your overall consumption.
Or my frustrations with anarchists who think they're "beating the system" by not voting or engaging in destructive protests, when that's exactly what right-wing people want them to do.

Or, for example, one time I told someone that I hadn't managed to succeed in veganism, but I believed in moderate consumption, and they told me "it's all or nothing." Or the boy that wore torn black jeans, black Chucks, and a white t-shirt everyday in some kind of apparently minimalist statement, but when I went to his house, I discovered he actually owned, no joke, about 15 pairs of similar black jeans. For those people, it's more about the statement than the action. You also know this book is for me since it attacks noise music which is inaccessible for the sake of being non-comformist. Of course, I like noise and feedback to a certain degree in music, I just can't take the totally abstract stuff. I mean, my favourite band of all time is probably Sonic Youth and I once wrote a paper over-analysing the social significance of noise in music since the 1960s (if anyone wants to read my pretentious academic writing where I actually proof-read, unlike here, then let me know, hah).

And this book basically attacks that hypocrisy. Those people are advertising themselves through their fixed gear bikes, American Apparel, torn black jeans, and card-carrying anarchism, they're sending out a definitive message. But, of course, like everyone else, that's part of the capitalist system.

I am definitely part of the consumerist subculture.

I occasionally shop at Urban Outfitters and Anthropologie. I buy overpriced organic groceries. I buy too many vintage clothes. I have too many V-necks from American Apparel. I'm not sure what statement I'm sending out to people, but sure, I'm advertising myself.

I don't know what kind of message I send out, but I definitely discourage certain types of people from talking to me. For people like me, who were traumatized by high school, the way we look sends out an implicit message to those people: "you are not welcome here." After my year in, yes, a sorority (hah! really! I still don't know why all those people in rush liked me) I think I overdid it on the appearance front: I changed my blonde highlights to black, cut my hair in a fashion mullet, and wore weird, unsexy clothing in order to discourage meatheads from trying to pick me up).

If I walk around in my daytime uniform of skinny jeans, messenger bag, sneakers, and striped sweaters or AA V-necks, I attract a certain type, if I'm out at night in a dress and heels, I attract a totally different type. I've shocked a couple of people by the amount of spandex athletic gear in my wardrobe. Although it makes sense to bike ride/hike in workout gear, it's definitely not sending out the right anti-establishment and apathetic message. Anyways, the point of this is to say that we are all, obviously, advertising all of the time. And we act as consumers to project the image we'd like to and attract the people we'd like to.

Sure, everyone who's interested in stereotypical countercultural ideals is locked into this sort of High Fidelity syndrome where we're implicitly flaunting our cultural capital. By our choice of coffee house, the fit of our jeans, the bands we mention, and the books we tote around, we intentionally or unintentionally advertise our cultural capital. "The Rebel Sell" discusses the shift of values that occurred around the 1960s, when societal status shifted from being based on old money and family to (at least in the "subculture") how "cool" we are. Do you know how to have a first date where you don't talk about bands or books? I sure don't.

Sometimes, especially recently, I've wondered if it's a mistake to judge people on these superficial characteristics. I mean does the fact that a boy could wear my jeans or can easily discuss the works of Jean Baudrillard really mean they'll make a good boyfriend? A lot of times, they've ended up being pretentious assholes.

We all advertise ourselves, particularly on Facebook and Myspace. Even if we're being "ironic" we're sending out the message that we don't care. Capitalism definitely targets the counterculture. The counterculture is a high part of the capitalist system.

Basically, the authors advocate that the only way to change things is to work for systemic political change and buy making ethical choices with our spending power. Basically, they advocate using the our wallets in order to demand ethically produced goods. The book is also very left-wing in its push for government restrictions and market controls. They make a good point that, even if we put out money in a bank, it's still funding capitalism. The authors actually argue that the only way to really decrease our carbon footprint is to reduce our income (in that case, I can't feel any guilt about my footprint...)

Although it's a well-argued premise that we can't escape the capitalist system, I also feel like saying, "so what?" Of course we can't escape the capitalist system. I, personally, am a bit of a commie, but I don't know if I see it working in the real world. I vote for the essentially socialist New Democratic Party in Canada. But, you could criticize any kind of movement in the same way.

I mean, you could dismiss any subculture for being superficial and pointless. You can criticize anyone's life choices. We can play that game with anything. Does that mean that I have to shop at Wallmart and eat Hamburger Helper?

Anyways, it's a really good read, and if anyone wants to discuss it over beers, I'd be down.

Speaking of beers, little girl is growing up, and I've decided to end my love affair with crappy American beer. I'm fairly knowledgeable about local microbreweries in BC, but if anyone wants to educate me on good local beer in America, I'd be excited. We don't get a lot of it on tap in Vancouver, so I need a lesson. Of course, then I'd just be falling into the pretentious trap detailed in "The Rebel Sell," but, whatever.