Convenience, Control & Valued Competencies

One of the main features drawn out in discussions of ‘good’ practices in particular, was that of consuming in more efforftul and mindful ways. Here, participants seemed to gain a sense of satisfaction from acts of consumption that require greater levels of physical and mental (i.e. being “careful” or creative) exertion (see also Groves et al. 2016b, for similar findings). Such narratives were often tinged with nostalgia, as they related their ways of doing, their skills in particular, to those of past generations; skills that were believed to have been undermined by the drive towards convenience within contemporary society. Narratives were thus frought with intergenerational continuities as well as tensions, as participants would often compare their own practices with those of other generations.

One such participant was Eluned (50s), who reflected upon how her upbringing in a frugal household has given her little love for gadgets, unlike her daughter;

My parents weren’t materialistic in any way and I think that’s been passed down to me. I don’t have to have new gadgets, I don’t like gadgets to tell you the truth, I think they’re a terrible waste -a marketing man’s dream. My daughter is completely different you know, she wouldn’t think twice about buying a bread maker. I can make my own bread, but she has bought a bread machine and has found that she’s eating too much bread and has gained weight! So I bought it from her. It’s handy if you’re too late to buy bread from the shops, but I’m not a gadget person. I see filling a house with gadgets

to be a nuisance. You can do a lot with just a knife around the kitchen. You don’t need gadgets [...]

(Eluned, 50s) In the extract above, Eluned draws our attention to generational continuities as well as changes within her own family. In particular, she highlights the continuities between herself and her parents by stating that neither she nor they were materialistic or wanting of new things. Indeed, earlier in the interview, Eluned had noted that she could not remember her mother ever having anything new, as “it wasn’t part of her mentality”, which evidently contrasts with her daughter’s seemingly frivolous purchase. In particular, she associates the conveniences afforded by kitchen gadgets, such as the bread maker, with the development of excessive or wasteful consumption, as well as a lack of skillful engagement associated with more traditional methods of food preparation. Moreover, it seems that Eluned views owning “gadgets” as a means of stripping individuals of agency by furthering their dependence on technology. Here the notion of internal rewards derived from engaging in practice, described by Shove, Panzar & Watson (2012), as the sense of satisfaction that one gains from performing a practice well, has potential in analysing Eluned’s narrative. Groves and colleagues (2016b) for example, posit that individuals may find practices internally rewarding as they support ‘modes of being and doing that support their sense of who they are’ (p. 8). In this sense, it could be argued that Eluned gains satisfaction from traditional methods of food preparation and preservation as they not only support her identity as a thrifty consumer, but also give her a sense of self-efficacy, which is supported by her claim that she doesn’t “need” gadgets.

The notion that certain practices support valued ways of being continues to be useful in examining others’ narratives as well. For Ceris³⁹ (60s), being able to light a fire was particularly important, not only for its symbolic meaning but also its utilitarian one (see Chapter 6). For her, the skills she had learned from her father, such as learning to use the cinders from the previous night to create a “red hot fire”, were symbolic of her identity as a thrifty person. As the interview progressed however, it became clear that some of the skills that Ceris valued, were not as valued elsewhere;

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One thing I won’t do is buy firelighters, ‘cause all you need is some paper and some dry kindling. Maybe this is old-fashioned, but at the end of the day if you buy two packets of firelighters which is about £2 every week, well (...) At the end of the day people just think that they’re faster, but lighting a fire like they used to do, you know, twisting the paper and such -that doesn’t take two minutes.

(Ceris, 60s) Ceris’ narrative draws our attention to ways in which labour-saving materials, firelighters in this case, whilst are popular, do not necessarily save time nor effort. Viewing them as financially wasteful, Ceris notes that “people just think that they’re faster”, when in reality it takes little time and effort to use “old-fashioned” methods and materials such as paper and dry kindling. Ceris’ ability to light and tend to a fire without the help of what could be deemed as ‘unnecessary’ aids (firelighters), is supportive of a meaningful identity associated with thrift, which is positioned as going against the grain. Indeed, her observation that housing associations are removing domestic fireplaces in favour of less engaged methods of heating (see Chapter six for more detail), serves to exemplify what she perceives as a shift towards convenience and the de-valuing of “old-fashioned” skills.

Effortful practices are meaningful in that they support a sense of identity and agency, and are associated with greater levels of physical as well as mental exertion. Creativity is an important facet of the aforementioned mental exertion, which features strongly in the following two exemplars. Peter⁴⁰ (50s), for example, is a father of three who prides himself on “always buy[ing] second-hand” because “it’s cheaper, and if something still works then why not?”. Peter does not like to throw anything away, “even if it breaks down”, preferring instead to repair goods until they can no longer be fixed, at which point he “pulls parts out” for creative re-use in the future, much like his father and father-in-law had done before him. Indeed, like many others in the study, Peter believes that his aversion to waste was instilled in him by his parents, who were born “during a time when there was a need to re-use stuff because there was no money to buy new things”.

Constructing an identity of a thoughtful, engaged and responsible consumer, Peter expresses sadness and dismay at the thought of throwing anything away, particularly if devices are still in working order;

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I hate things like when my son says things like, “I want a new phone”. What’s wrong with the old one? “It’s old” he’ll say, it’s only been three years! “Well it’s old isn’t it?” -and you just think wow! So I tell him, “if you wait another year there will be something else out that you haven’t even thought of yet”

[laughs] You know, with something new in it -that’s what’s funny isn’t it? We don’t know what we need yet if you know what I mean [laughs]

(Peter, 50s) In the excerpt above, Peter positions himself in opposition to mainstream consumers (such as his teenage son) who do not consume in a sustainable manner (see Cherrier, Black

& Lee, 2011). Specifically, Peter is critical of what he perceives to be the prioritisation of newness and novelty within consumer culture, whereby upgrading and its associated wastes have become the norm, which makes for careless consumers. His critique, however, is directed at both consumers and producers, as manufacturers, businesses and marketers are implicated in the promotion of ‘unnecessary wants’, and the de-valuing of creative re-use as a practice.

The proliferation of wasteful modes of consumption at the expense of more effortful, creative and care-filled practices was also present in Ian’s narrative, this time in relation to the exploitative nature of consumer culture (see Cherrier, 2009). Ian, like Peter, prides himself on his ability to fix broken goods, after having mentioned earlier in the interview that he had fixed his wife’s broken wind-up radio by carving a new wooden handle for it.

However, when his washing-machine broke down due to a malfunctioning computer chip, Ian experienced difficulties in getting it repaired;

What’s happened a lot in the last few years is this kind of electronic whiz-kiddery, and [when] the washing machine broke down [the mechanic] said

“Oh you’ve got to buy a new washing machine”, so I said “The washing machine works perfectly well. Just because there’s a chip gone -why wouldn’t you just replace the chip?” (…) “Oh no we can’t do that”, you know, this sort of thing (...) And the same with cars -that cars are becoming much more computer organised, and not only is it becoming more difficult to sort it out yourself, it also means that you have to pay somebody over the odds to fix it et cetera et cetera. All that stuff is evil actually. We’ve got the capacity and the skills as a species to make things much better than they are and we choose not to because we want people to keep buying new [things], and that’s naughty.

(Ian, 60s) In the excerpt above, Ian expresses resentment towards mainstream consumerism, which he links to his diminishing sense of self-efficacy, as it is “becoming more difficult to sort [things] out yourself”. There is a distinct sense in the narrative above that meaningful skills, such as the ability to repair broken goods, are less valued in contemporary consumer society, and have been replaced with a less thoughtful and engaged mode of consumption.

Ian’s critique, perhaps more so than Peter’s, is directed at producers, as Ian alludes to their role in advancing wasteful consumption practices. Indeed, Ian is convinced that many products “are designed with a built-in obsolescence”, that is to say, products that have been intentionally designed to have a limited functional life, with the objective of generating demand for replacement (i.e. new) products (Guiltinan, 2009); a production practice which Ian evidently views as “evil” and “naughty”.