Friday 23 December 2011

Daniel Miller, Material culture and mass consumption


Daniel Miller, Material culture and mass consumption (Oxford: Blackwell, 1987)

Introduction
Miller starts by arguing that the material culture, despite its role in the shaping of human cultures, is deeply understudied due to the fact that its non-linguistic, but rather physically material character resists attempts to comprehend it. The second reason for negligence of it in research is a deeply rooted negative left wing tradition of associating materiality with philistinism.
In response, Miller proposes a drastically different research agenda: to look not at material objects as such, but at the subject-object duality. He then pronounces his interest to the contemporary mass culture as “the dominant context through which we relate to goods.” (4)
The political agenda of Miller is rather positive: he argues that mass culture, including mass consumption, contains within itself mechanisms which make common people agents of historical process—this is what interests him in the history of mass consumption. (5) He then argues that in the conditions of the contemporary mass culture, urban society and overall mobility, such conventional social categories as class, race, gender, etc. are complemented by different ways of consumption of things, or other aspects of mass culture: “In this respect, the division of labour… becomes only another dimension of difference.” (8)
Miller, in particular, looks at the rejection of a universalist approach to the production of consumer goods—which seemed to dominate in the mid-20th century—as an indication of this power of common people to shape the very vision of modern economy, instead of being homogenized by the capitalist ideas of what a modern society should be. (10)
Miller offers to analyze culture in a more or less similar way to that of Bourdieu: as “the relationship through which objects are constituted as social forms,” (11) i.e., as a relational phenomenon. “Culture… is always a process and is never reducible to either its object or its subject form.” (11) Therefore, it is senseless to analyze material objects “in themselves,” as well as “society and social relations” “in themselves.”
Miller describes his method in this book as “eclectic,” as he borrows certain theoretical aspects related to materiality from Hegel and Marx (“objectification”), anthropologist Munn’s research of pre-industrial society of Australian aborigines, Philosophy of Money by Georg Simmel. He combines them to extract “profound ideas” related to the understanding of material culture. He then looks at artefacts as specific cultural manifestations of material objects, studying—through the methodology of Pierre Bourdieu—how they constitute the social field in relation with social agents. He finally applies these methodological insights to the study of consumption, with a rather politicised agenda to reinvest academic interest in the study of the domain of mass consumption, as he comprehends it a necessary precondition for the further social development.

2. Hegel and Objectification
From Hegel, Miller borrows the concept of objectification, i.e. the dialectical relationship between subject and object. A subject, in order to understand itself, creates (alienates, or objectifies) an object, which it then appropriates, only to create another object, and so forth. The important thing here is processuality of this phenomenon: a subject is never a subject as such, but always is defined through its relationship to an object. Besides, the Hegelian dialectics imply the notion of progress, which suits Miller’s political agenda. Drawing on Hegel, Miller concludes:
A theory of culture can have no independent subject, as neither individuals nor societies <subject.—me> can be considered as its originators, since both are inseparable from culture itself <object.—me> and are as much constituted by culture as constituting it. This process is inherently dynamic; the relation between subject and object is never static. <…> Finally, the term objectification may be used to assert that the process of culture, which must always include self-alienation as a stage in its accomplishment, is thereby inherently contradictory. Since this contradiction is embodied in the particular vehicle or form taken by culture, and since modern culture has become increasingly a material culture, this materiality may play an ever more important part in the constitution of this contradiction. (33)

3. Marx: Objectification as Rupture
Miller moves on to discuss how Hegel’s concept of objectification was appropriated by Marx and Western Marxism to denote the rupture between the man and his labour and how a number of derivative concepts were created on its basis: estrangement, alienation, reification, which later led to a re-interpretation of the original Hegelian objectification. Miller argues that in order to emphasize the social oppression in the capitalist society, Marx and Marxists overemphasized the process of production (where alienation happens) over the process of consumption, which remains nearly undiscussed in their works. Miller sees—at least, partly—his task to overcome this situation (as he realises that any discussion of objectification and consumption will be comprehended at the background of contemporary Marxism), not by disregarding Marxist writing, but rather by focusing on the earlier neglected part of the process of objectification:
…Analysis of consumption… is no longer merely relegated to an outcome of conflicts centered elsewhere <i.e., in the production.—me>, and a use of the concept of objectification to understand the nature of contradictions and strategies which cannot entirely be reduced to the nature of capitalism as the conditions of rupture. (49)


4. Munn: Objectification as Culture
In this section, Miller looks at works by anthropologist Nancy Munn, who studied pre-industrial societies from the perspective of objectification. Within one society (Australian aborigines), the main medium of objectification is landscape, which is transformed by the act of objectification into a social (or cultural) landscape, which is later re-appropriated by the collective subject (i.e., tribe) to understand itself better:
The moral order and the social order of the society are understood only as they are mapped out onto a cultural landscape which is ‘naturalied’ by being mapped in turn onto the natural features of the geographical landscape.. As a medium of objectification, the properties of the landscape become of central importance; it provides the permanence, the authority, and the massivity which can legitimate the social world (58).
In pre-industrial society, the objectification is necessarily material:
In a world where material objects are scarce, and where those which exist are largely transient, a particular cultural form which is visibly the product of the remote past and is destined for the remote future has a profound implication matched only by the permanence of the landscape itself. Here again, it is the very materiality of the medium of objectification which is important for the process taking place… Material forms thus provide a medium for present, transient and particular history to be subsumed under a large experience, in which past and present are absorbed into an infinite dreamtime where cultural order merely re-enacts its own self-creation (59)
Objectification is also of key importance in relations between societies. Exchange of objects between societies serves as a means of “creating social hierarchy through the display of differential ability in the manipulation of its potential…” (63). Yet another anthropological aspect of the objectification between societies is important. People “invest themselves in the act of creating a cultural object” (61), which is intended for the consumption within a different society. The objects which they get in response “gain their significance from the social relations which are objectified by the act of exchange, a significance which therefore could not result entirely from manufacture itself” (62). The “other” is absolutely necessary for this type of objectification, which provides for a better understanding of the (collective) subject:
Objectification can here be understood as a process of externalization and sublation which is dependent upon the relationship between two societies, and not merely the internal workings of one (62).
Miller then argues that Munn’s observations about how systems of exchange work within and between societies are “the key to the construction of individual reputation” (64), and thus allow to remove the artificial dualism between the individual and the social. According to Miller, subject does not exist prior to the process of objectification, due to its specificity: the relationship of subject-object is that of dichotomy, not of dualism.

5. Simmel: Objectification as Modernity
Miller is interested in Simmel’s The Philosophy of Money (1900), as it provided a new outlook at the process of objectification: a focus on consumption, rather than production. Simmel argued that modern (i.e., capitalist) societies are of monetary character, which, Simmel argues, is a necessary precondition for the freedom. The logic is that Simmel, following the general Hegelian-Marxist logic of how a subject develops within the dichotomy of subject-object, considered historical process to represent an increasing awareness of the “outer” social relations and values. Economic exchange was a necessary mediating tool to overcome subjective values, “the essential condition of all human relationships” (71). The most abstract representation of economic exchange are money, as they become a universal phenomenon upon which all other things derive their significance. In comparison to non-monetarized societies, where the burden of family and social obligations on a person destroys all possibilities of personal “freedom,” the monetarized bourgeois society depersonalizes these obligations. “Money therefore tends to extend a concept of equality, in so far as the perception of inequality becomes based upon differences in the possession of money, rather than on an essentialist notion of intrinsic differences in persons” (73). Money, in other words, is that medium which alone makes equality possible:
Money is held to provide the basis for that level of abstraction at which people are regarded as fundamentally equal to one another, bereft for purposes of social construction of their personal characteristics. Money is thus the foundation for ideas such as socialism and equality between the sexes, which, as abstractions, would be literally inconceivable outside of a highly monetarized society (75).
The same phenomenon—the rise of the monetarized economies—provides the basis for the negative tendency: due to the quantitative rise of consumer goods, the subject is simply unable to (re)-appropriate them back into him/herself:
Simmel effectively extends Marx’s concept of rupture to account for the inability of modern individuals to recognize themselves in the world of goods. The problem is that the massive increase in objective culture has not been appropriated by the subject in such a way that material goods become the instrument of the subject’s self-development through the sublation of its own projections; instead, the subject confronts the world of material goods as an alien sphere (77).
In order to appropriate at least something in the world, subject specialize: as the result, it is likely that two subject will share no common interests and, thus, their personal interaction will be of the most empty style.
Consequently, Simmel develops a new concept of culture: culture as a never-ending process:
Simmel emphasizes the paradoxical nature of culture, recognizing the essentially positive process of modernity which has allowed for hitherto unimaginable possibilities; but he is ware of the forces which lead towards reification and autonomy, both of which are inimical to human interests (79). Culture for Simmel is not constituted by the material world in itself, but exists only as a process of the subject’s becoming. To that extent, modernization represents only a potential for development, not necessarily an actual development (80).
Thus, Simmel offers a new perspective on the concept of objectivation: it is a process which creates culture as a by-product of the development of some subject (usually, collective). Since all cultural forms are subjective, it erases the distinction between individual and society: it exists only on analytical level, since individual is inseparable from society and vice versa. 

6. The Humility of Objects
Miller starts this section by stressing the fact that in the dichotomy of material-linguistic, the latter is increasingly overemphasized as a medium of society, while the former is generally disregarded by scholarship. He then focuses on the role of material objects in human ontogenesis, arguing that this is the key to the understanding of the social role of material objects. He starts by considering the theory of Piaget, who discovered a direct link between the structures of the mind and those of the (social) environment. The development of a child is determined, then, by what kind of objects he is confronted in his everyday life. This development revolves around the processes of accommodation and assimilation:
Through accommodation, the mental structures at whatever stage they have reached are themselves changed in order to encompass the particular characteristic of the environment they have encountered. In assimilation, by contrast, the environment is incorporated only at the level of comprehension the child has attained at any given stage (88).
Accommodation is, e.g., dominant in imitation (a child rubbing its hands as if washing hands), while assimilation is dominant in play (a child using a stick as if it were a horse), which “leads to increasingly complex imagined worlds over which the child assumes control” (89). But at some point, accommodation comes back when a child is confronted by the external rules of the game (as a social activity). This is, thus, a dialectical movement of dynamic interaction between the subject and object, which allows to create a sense of self and other. What is important:
This ‘other’ is, however, always understood as a projection equivalent to the stage of development of the subject… (89).
In a way, this is the same dialectics of externalization (assimilation as projection) and embodiment (accommodation as introjection).
Miller then turns to the works of Melanie Klein, who studied how a child’s education through involvement (from the first minutes of life) in the subject-object relation creates it as a social agent. She names this process “paranoid-schizoid position,” which means that the primitive ego of an infant “splits itself” and then projects these part onto material objects in the outside world. As these objects can be “good” or “bad,” part of infant’s ego (projected on these objects) become good or bad, too. Hence “paranoid-schizoid.”  Moreover, when an infant is confronted with a real breast, it projects it onto certain parts of its ego (projection), but when an infant is confronted with absence of mother’s breast, it tries to introject (i.e., to pretend as if it exists) that part of its ego, which is associated with the “good” breast, onto the outside world, pretending as if “bad” breast does not exist. Gosh.
Operating with concepts of projection (of the self on objects) and introjection (of objects on the self), she argues that as an infant grows and is capable of grasping more complex objects (mother as such instead of her breast as a good object or absent breast as a bad object), it develops an ability to integrate the operations of projection and introjection—as in case when an infant is forced to confront “the good breast” and “the bad breast” simultaneously in its mother’s object. This integration does not mean coherency:
…Rather, the new position leads to still more sophisticated forms of internal and external contradiction and relationships, exhibited in part through more developed emotions, such as guilt and mourning, as the infant deals with the contradictory nature of the mother (92).
Here, e.g., when “super-ego” is formed as an interiorized form taken by parental authority. Moreover, this mechanism explains how, by way of growing up and later education, certain symbolic processes provide the foundations for the ego, become highly integral and intractable:
As the sense of the self, they provide the basic attitudes and perspectives which are taken for granted in relations with the external world, by virtue of the extent to which they are models into which that world must be assimilated (93).
Miller argues that these two theories are important, as they allow to return to material object their importance in the creation of a social order. Play—a major mechanism of socialization—is first about material objects, and language comes later, first only as a subordinate subject. Only at a rather late stage of development, when a child has a significant level of interaction with the material world, the abstract functions of language can be mastered.
While after this stage, a man is able to negotiate her interaction with the social world through language, it does not mean that the role of material objects in determining his social position become less important. According to Miller, it occupies an “ambiguous position… between self and the outside,” and has a special “relationship to the unconscious” (95).
Miller starts by referring to an observation of S. Langer that human perception of aesthetic objects (fine arts, e.g.) is not of “discursive” form, as in case of text, but of “presentational” form, which means that people perceive it “at once, rather than sequentially” (97). He then refers to criticism of imposition of linguistic methods on studies of architecture, since “arbitrary” meanings (as of words) cannot be extracted from the spatial and functional context of the material of buildings.
Miller, finally, argues that language is inappropriate for description of objects in everyday interaction. He suggests an experiment: to try to describe a difference in the shapes of a bottle of milk and a bottle of sherry or between the taste of cod and the taste of haddock. Even such elaborate systems of description as the one adopted by wine experts do not work alone, without wine itself.
Then, a material object—an artefact, as a material object intentionally produced by man—is an important social phenomenon which tends to escape scholarly attention due to its very properties (physicality and resistance to linguistic description) and position between consciousness and the unconscious.
Language requires the complete break between sign and signified, as the development of linguistic system is based on arbitrariness. Material objects, due to their concrete nature, can never be entirely abstract or arbitrary. A material object can be perceived in thousands of different ways, each determined by certain conceptual systems, but it, anyway, “does act as a firm physical constraint upon them” (99).
Miller then claims that while the language is responsible for consciousness, “objects may retain their place in the ordering of the unconscious world” (99). An example of that comes in form of the picture frame, which organizes our perception of what is inside as the object of art—the latter, if placed on a billboard, will be comprehended in a very different way:
In this instance, by establishing a relationship of immediacy with our unconscious, one object is able to control the nature of our consciousness, making it appropriate to the context within which that object is working (101).
Miller characterizes common objects by their “humility”: while organizing our perception of reality, they are seemingly invisible. He demonstrates it by discussing modern furniture, which reflects the tastes of its owner and which works as an medium of communication of social information as effectively as language, although in an absolutely different way:
In modern linguistics, we are often told of our remarkable ability to construct meaningful sentences which we have never previously heard; yet this is surely matched by our ability to absorb the social implications of an array of furnishing consisting of a combination which is not only almost certainly in some degree unique, but some of whose basic elements may also be new to us. It is clear that this impression made upon us is no less significant in determining our conception of the individuals concerned than the articulate self-expression represented by the conversation we may be engaged in within this setting (102).
He then claims that this is only one example of how “unconscious, non-linguistic processes may act to control conscious and linguistic articulation” (102). Of course, the language still retains autonomy, but this autonomy is no more total.
Miller then refers to Bourdieu as a social theorist who gave a brilliant explanation of how material objects participate in social reproduction and who allows to avoid psychologism in explaining social phenomena, instead offering a good conceptual framework. Miller values Bourdieu, as the latter’s conceptual framework also helps to avoid subjectivism or objectivism, instead combining the two into a coherent picture of social agency. Habitus is a “set of classificatory schema,” which imposes on children the normative order of its society. Habitus then allows the subject who belongs to it to apply these schema against new phenomena and assimilate them into his/her cultural order. This sense of normative order is something which is given, fundamental, rather than negotiated.
Habitus is learnt through interactive practices, “as the acts of living within a world which is composed of this same order are continually reinforced in different domains” (104). Therefore, it’s better to speak of familiarity, rather than learning. The habitus then organizes subject’s social activity “as a structured set of dispositions which provides a basis for the enactment of strategy according to interest, perspective and power” (104). Yet it does not dictate how to behave: there are strategies, rather than rules, but strategies are pursued within the objective limits of the social field.
For Bourdieu, materiality is very important in the reproduction of the social order, as it is “embodied in details such as dress, body movement and manners” (105). The material world, then, is not a “vulgar” determinant factor of the social practice, instead physicality is what constrains and modifies our social vision, but never totally determines it.
Artefacts are also important for maintaining certain sets of dispositions, because their physicality disguises their symbolism:
The artefact… tends to imply a certain innocence of facticity; it seems to offer the clarity of realism, an assertion of certainty against the buffeting of debate, an end or resting point which resolves the disorder of uncertain perspectives. All this is, of course, quite illusory; the object is just as likely as the word, if not more so, to evoke variable responses and invite a variety of interpretations (106).
In other ways, an object as an important foundation of disposition is less challengeable than language, which, by the nature of its abstraction, is more likely to be perceived as arbitrary.
To summarize, Miller offers the following functions of artefacts within human culture:
- they play bridging roles, as they, through their representational form, have close relations to emotions, feelings and basic orientations to the world.
 - they promote fine distinctions through their relation to extremely sophisticated mechanisms of perceptual discrimination which tend to remain outside of consciousness.
- they exemplify the concept of praxis, in that this materiality is always an element in cultural transformation (107).
- they are instrumental to social reproduction.
- they explain the dialectics of subject and object, as they work as mechanisms which create the subject in history, but are themselves shaped by the social subject’s role as active agent;
- they assist in creating different forms of social reality, which is assisted by their affinity to the unconscious.

7. Artefacts in the Contexts
Artefact, as a manufactured object produced intentionally, by its very physicality aspires to avoid the scholarly attention. This is revealed even in its form, as it often disguises the true material from which it was manufactured (plastic sold as wood). “The object has always had the ability to proclaim one technological origin while actually deriving from another” (115). What is important is “the ability of the object to stand for a particular form of production and its attendant social relations” (115). He then says that while artefacts can, indeed, stand for certain social relations, it is not always the case:
It might be though, for example, that the major distinctions between socialist and capitalist development, terms which are founded in contrasting philosophies of the proper relations of production, would be a prime subject of the symbolic capacity of the modern artefact. In practice, when making a purchase, it is very rare for us to note whether an object is made by a cooperative or a private factory, or in East or West Germany, and extraordinarily this division appears hardly, if at all, within the major symbolic dimensions of the contemporary world of commodities. We do not think in terms of capitalist shoes and socialist shoes.” (115)
Which people on the other side of the Iron Curtain actually did, all the time.
The conclusion is, however, different: Miller says that those divisions which are important for language and ideology can be non-existent on the level of material culture, while divisions in the material world can be ignored elsewhere.
Miller then says that in the domain of material culture, the connection between the object and its function is very important: it’s the basis for naming for kids (which means that for them it’s fundamental), and for adults functions of things play “an important, though highly flexible, role in the description of objects in daily life” (116).
The problem here is that this connection between an object and its function is NOT a connection between an object and its everyday use. In daily life, there are hundreds of types of shoes which perform the same function, and a behavior of a consumer selecting a specific shoe is mostly likely related “to social rather than functional considerations which may more convincingly account for the majority of purchases” (116).
Miller then moves to explore the social uses of things by analysing the relationship in the triangle of artefacts, the self and society. He points to examples which demonstrate that the border between the self and things is cultural, defined in each case by the specific society, as in case of some societies in which even infants can become alienated. Moreover, the relationship between people and things is determined by the social concepts of property.
He then discusses the key role of things in the social construction of space, not only in terms of spatial planning, but also in creating stereotypes about geographic locations and even imposing these stereotypes on the “other” through economic motivation (he brings an example of “oriental” style of textile which was produced in India due to economic demand on this type of textile in Britain, even though this “oriental” style had nothing to do with Indian own textile design). This is particularly important at the level of ideologies:
Nation-states define themselves, in part, in terms of what they are not; that is, by setting themselves in opposition to alternative degenerate or ideal societies. Both people and objects are then required to exemplify the stereotypes which have been constructed. (124)
A similarly tight connection exists between things and time. Nation-states, e.g., used archeology to legitimize their historical existence by dating their origins back to paleolithic age through museum exhibitions. Another example is fashion which endows objects with the ability to signify the present.
Miller finally comes to a very important domain, the relationship between artefacts and style. Miller looks at all objects of the same kind (all cars, all curtains, etc.) and claims that the internal relationship between these objects of the same kind is built on the principle of style. They will differ in certain details while retaining similarity in essential features, and these details ensure the internal order within a domain of one type of things.
Such internal order is highly significant, since it reinforces the point that objects are not best understood as merely subservient to social divisions. Social groups may be divided according to the logic of objects with which they associate, which includes the objects’ autonomous tendencies towards pattern, as well as their physical constraints. (128)
In a way, societies can be characterised “as a reflection of style,” and different social changes would be marked with minor shifts in the style of things. Consequently, in the modern society, the form of things can start dominate over their functionality, as in the case of apartments in which everything is purchased to match a certain style.
Ironically, that set of ideas and ideals which expressed the legitimacy of form following function was most effective in ensuring that function followed form. (129)
Miller concludes, that the very physicality of artefacts makes them powerful in terms of cultural and social construction, as they participate in it “through action rather than just conceptualization.” (129) The oject also important, because it places an individual
within the normative order of the larger social group, where it serves as a medium of intersubjective order inculcated as a generative practice through some version of ‘habitus’. (130)
Artefact also occupies a deeply integrated place in the contemporary culture, as one object—let’s say, a high-modernist building—can stand for “rationality,” “formalism,” “functionality,” and “style.” This deeply integrated place of the artefact in the culture and social relations makes it so difficult for the social or cultural analysis.

8. The Study of Consumption
Miller argues that the traditional relationship between the Industrial Revolution and new models of consumption is more complex, as it was not industrialism which spurred consumption, but rather the process was double-sided, as it was cotton industry (and the demand for textile goods) which gave an initial impulse to the Industrial Revolution.
In the contemporary world, the study of material culture, according to Miller, should be based on the idea of objectification—i.e., social agents objectify themselves in artefacts, and social distinctions and distinctions between commodities co-exist and define themselves mutually. Hence Miller’s criticism of a “sociability fetishism,… in which social structure is often treated as both prior to and ontologically superior to, its appearance in goods” (146).
Miller then draws on the works by Bourdieu and Veblen to prove his claim that consumption plays an instrumental role in social distinctions. The artefacts achieve their function of social differentiation through imposition of tastes on the public. Taste is “the key dimension controlling the significance of ordinary goods” (149). To understand, how taste works, it is necessary to look at social distinctions, as they, rather than aesthetic values, form tastes, which then work as classificatory devices. Tastes become embodies in the social groups to which they belong. Education, as well as the overall social environment, plays a key role in the formation of tastes.
A similar <immense> set of divisions can be identified in a vast range of goods. The middle-class children’s toy s never intended for mere amusement or pleasure; its prime interest is its educational value, the child must absorb the toy as a challenge, something from which it will learn in order to improve itsel. Similarly, there is an array of products for producing the body beautiful, a tall elegant figure disdainful of practical or even biological constraint. In every consumer domain, fashion provides opportunities for differentiation, in ters of speed of access to knowledge. Through such example, it becomes clear how the habitus acts both to generate the diversity of forms and, in turn, to classify these same diverse fields (153).
The, the use of Bourdieu’s notion of habitus allows to address material culture, cognitive orders and social divisions in their complex interactive unity.

9. Object Domains, Ideology and Interests
In this section, Miller suggests to turn upside down the commonplace assumption (shared, according to him, by Bourdieu, too) that differences between goods are directly related to differences between social groups. He suggests that while this is often true, there are divisions which originate in the domain of material culture, and in order to understand social divisions which can be hidden from conventional representations of the society (e.g., division into classes), a scholar should start by identifying the social divisions between goods and then trace their equivalent in the social order:
As mass consumption, a particular array of objects may be found to represent and assist in the construction of perspectives relating to control over production or rivalry between consumers, but also to wider issues concerning morality and social ideals (158).
Moreover, the physicality of objects helps them to “belie the actual variety of meanings they evoke,” (159) which makes them more powerful social forces than one might think.
Miller analyses different typical examples of housing in contemporary Britain and claims that their symbolic function (semi-detached houses as middle-class individualism, modernist-style buildings owned by municipal councils as communality) functions in a more complex way. Designers of modernist houses prefer to live in typical middle-class housing, and the dwellers of council-owned buildings do not generally appropriate the ideas of communalism embodied in them. It does not work, because usually the dominant social group imposes on other social groups not what they want, but the representations of what the dominant social group thinks other social groups want. This is very deceiving, because “what appears to us as the image of one section of society is actually fabricated by a quite different class.” (161)
In so far as society is divided into different interests, of which labour and capital are the prototypical examples, it may well be that some interests have more control than others over the development of representations which accord to their perspective and thus their interests… The concept of perspective implies that understanding is derived from a particular position in the world. If two groups have different perspectives, then, in so far as they are able to create the world, the naturally attempt to do so in accordance with their own perspective, or habitus (163).
When interests of groups are contrary, or even different, dominated groups should invest itself in those objects which were created, initially, to represent antagonistic interests.

Miller then criticises the new left criticism of consumerism, as it tends itself to construct an image of what other classes should be and then to impose it on them, earning symbolic capital of its own.
Instead, Miller suggests that anthropologists of the consumer culture should concentrate on recontextualization of consumed goods to find a middle ground between objectivism and contextualism. He analyzes several examples—children sweets, motorollers, etc.-to demonstrate how certain social groups can invest into certain commodities to create their own meanings. The flexibility of a these usages is dependent on a number of factors, including the very size of objects (sweets are easier to recontextualise than buildings).
His approach, actually, complicates the approach to studying material culture. While its objects are products of the contemporary capitalist way of production, they are also appropriated by certain social groups to create their own image. Hence the importance of recontextualization of objects. But:
Simultaneous with the insistence that recontextualization may be possible has been an avoidance of the other extreme, which is that all such recontextualization is a form of resistance which should be regarded as inevitably positive in its consequence. The term recontextulization implies the concept of text which is itself open to many readings, and several parallels may be drawn with discussions concerning the death of the author (here perhaps the death of the producer)… Just as modern sociological theory has suggested that the meaning of the text is not simply reducible to the intentions, perspectives or interests of the author, so also the emergence of the object from the world of capitalist or state production does not make it of necessity a direct representation of the interests of capital or the state (176).

10. Towards a Theory of consumption
In this chapter, Miller uses his observations to suggest how we should rethink our attitude to consumer culture, including on the political agenda.

Friday 9 December 2011

Pierre Bourdieu, Practical Reason, Chapters 4-6


 Pierre Bourdieu, Practical Reason (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998)

Chapter 4. Is a Disinterested Act Possible?
Bourdieu starts by contemplating about the concept of “interest” when it comes to the explanation of agents’ acts. He claims that this concept is the key to the understanding of social behaviour, even in such seemingly disinterested domains like academic research.
He then emphasized that while we should look for reason behind all social acts, we should not assume believe that all these acts are rational. As there is always a reason, even if it is not though of consciously by the agent of the social act, then, consequently, “social agents do not engage in gratuitous acts,” i.e. acts which are, first, unmotivated and , second, not profitable.  “Telescoping these two meaning, the search for the raison d’etre <sense > of a behavior is identified with the explanation of that behavior as the pursuit of economic ends.” (76)
Bourdieu then introduces a number of other concepts aimed to clarify and refine his argument about the interest. First is illusio, which is “the fact of being caught up in and by the game, of believing the game is "worth the candle," or, more simply, that playing it worth the effort.” (76-77) One of the implications of the Bourdieu’s concept interest is, then, that “<social> games which matter to you are important and interesting because they have been imposed and introduced in your mind, in your body, in a form called the feel for the game.” (77) He then argues that two other concepts—investment and libido—can illuminate the ideas of the concept illusio, and are interchangeable to a degree. Social games transform biological libido into social libido in the process of socializing agents into a game. At the same time, by socializing into a game, social agents make investments, in form of their time, effort, etc. And it is this socialization of agents into a certain game which transform his or her impulses into social interests “which only exist in relation to a social space in which certain things are important and others don’t matter and for socialized agents who are constituted in such a way as to make distinctions corresponding to the objective differences in that space.” (79)
The concept of illusio is also important because of its (false) etymology, since “what is experienced as obvious in illusio appears as an illusion to those who do not participate in the game.” (79) The illusion can also be eliminated by knowledge, even though it is not that simple. The reason is that the game penetrates into agents bodies and souls deeply: “agents well-adjusted to the game are possessed by the game and doubtless all the more so the better they master it.” (79) Bourdieu argues that this eliminates “utilitarian” theories of actions, which say that social behavior of agents is, first, rational and conscious and, second, aimed at economic ends. That social behaviour is not (necessarily) rational speaks the fact that “between agents and the social world there is a relationship of infraconscious, infralinguistic complicity: in their practice agents engage in these which are not posed as such.” (79-80) Bourdieu claims that social behaviour does not always have an end, i.e. a goal, and yet social agents “aim at certain ends without posing them as such.” (80) He then explains:
Social agents who have a feel for the game, who have embodied a host of practical schemes of perception and appreciation functioning as instruments of reality construction, as principles of vision and division of the universe in which they act, do not need to pose the objectives of their practice as ends. (80)
Consequently, social agents are not “subjects,” who operate by pursuing goals in intellectual acts of cognition, their interest change as the current situation in their social game (“the present of the game”) changes.
Bourdieu then demands that a differentiation between two kinds of temporal experience of social agents should be introduced into social analysis: drawing on Husserl, he differentiates between “the relationship to the future that might be called a project, and which poses future as future,” and “the relationship to the future that <Husserl> calls pretension or preperceptive anticipation, a relationship to a future that is not a future, to a future that is almost present.” (80) The second type of temporal experience is not personal, Bourdieu claims, but rather “the fact of the habitus as a feel for the game. Having the feel for the game is having the game under the skin; it is to master in a practical way the future of the game; it is to have a sense of the history of the game.” (80) A good player “has the immanent tendencies of the game in her body, in an incorporated state: she embodies the game.” (81)
Bourdieu states that habitus also plays another function:
The habitus fulfills a function which another philosophy consigns to a transcendental conscience: it is a socialized body, a structure body, a body which has incorporated the immanent structures of a world or of a particular sector of that world – a field – and which structures the perception of that world as well as action in that world. (81)
He provides a following example: the opposition of theory and practice exists, on the one hand, socially objectively in academia and socially subjectively in minds of professors, who then train students in these very categories. When these subjective and objective social structures coincide, “everything seems obvious and goes without saying.” (81)
Consequently, “one can, for example, be adjusted to the necessities of a game—one can have a magnificent academic career—without ever needing to give oneself such an objective.” (82) It is, therefore, misleading to apply the categories of logical logic to practical logic, i.e. to try to describe human behaviors as a coherent set of conscious acts:
If what I am saying is true, it happens quite differently. Agents who clash over the ends under considerations can be possessed by those ends. They may be ready to die for those ends, independently of all considerations of specific, lucrative profits, career profits, or other forms of profit. Their relation to the end involved is not at all the conscious calculation of usefulness that utilitarianism lends them, a philosophy that is readily applied to the action of others. They have a feel for the game; for example, in games where it is necessary to be “disinterested” in order to succeed, they can undertake, in a spontaneously disinterested manner, actions in accordance with their interests. (83)
To refute the scholarly approach that human behaviour is governed by the economic interest, Bourdieu mentions that in the contemporary societies, there is a number of “social universes,” such as religion, economy, art, science, which “are autonomous and have their own laws… which evaluate what is done in them, the stakes at play, according to principles and criteria that are irreducible to those of other universes.” (83-84) As the laws which define interests in different universes are also different, “what makes people enter and compete in the scientific field is not the same thing that makes them enter and compete in the economic field.” (84)
As different social universes have different laws, this observation “leads to a breaking up of the notion of interest; there are as many forms of libido, as many kinds of interest, as there are fields. Any field, in producing itself, produces a form of interest which, from the point of view of another field, may seem like disinterestedness (or absurdity, lack of realism, folly, etc.).” (84-85)
Bourdieu then asks how his theory of sociology can, then, exist if there are social universes which are built on a refusal of economic interests, i.e. disinterestedness from a common point of view. To this, he answers that “there must exist a form of interest that one can describe, for the sake of communication, and at the risk of falling into a reductionist vision, as interest in disinterestedness or, better still, as a disinterested or generous disposition.” (85) His concept of disposition, thus, becomes a driving force of social universes: social agents occupy these dispositions and start pursue interests, which are imposed on them by the rule of the game, according to these same rules.
But to what their interests would lead them, in this case? Bourdieu answers: to everything symbolic: symbolic capital, symbolic interest, symbolic profit. He uses the example of Louis XIV’s court, which was a social field of its own and where agents – courtiers – struggled against each other for these symbolic benefits that were expressed in small differences in dress, practices, etiquette and rank, but that brought to the person who excelled in them  a significant advantage over his/her competitors. These small differences should be mutually recognized, therefore “symbolic capital is capital with a cognitive base, which rests on cognition and recognition.” (85)
Bourdieu then discusses how certain social conditions—such as aristocratic education in a pre-capitalist society—“produce "disinterested" habitus, anti-economic habitus, disposed to repress interests, in the narrow sense of the term (that is, the pursuit of economic profits), especially in domestic relations.” (86)
Life in a “disinterested” habitus, such as state bureaucracy, where “disinterestedness is the official norm,” is not always governed by disinterestedness: while its social agent “is caught up in mechanisms <of habitus, i.e. principles of practices>, <and> there are sanctions which remind him of the obligation of disinterestedness,” at the same time “behind the appearance of piety, virtue, disinterestedness, there are subtle, camouflaged interests; the bureaucrat is not just the servant of the state, he is also the one who puts the state at his service.” (87)
Bourdieu concludes the chapter by discussing if universal interests—i.e., interests common for all groups (all social universes)—are possible. He points out that sometimes particular interests become universalized—this is what Marxism calls ideology and criticizes: “the ideologue is the one who posits as universal, as disinterested, that which is in accordance with their particular interest.” (89) Yet, he claims that such a social world is possible, in case the state officially recognizes “the primacy of the group and its interests over the individual and the individual’s interests, which all groups profess in the very fact of affirming themselves as groups.” (89-90). And yet, “all universal values are in fact particular, universalized values… (universal culture is the culture of the dominants, etc.”).” (90) They serve the interests of the dominant group by the very fact that they are recognized universally, by all other social groups, and yet the representatives of the latter also receive symbolic form from recognizing them (the profit of conformity or distinction). This gives “a reasonable probability of existing” to universal(ized) values. (90)
Bourdieu considers bureaucracy as one of the creators of such universal values: while is assumes that it serves to the universal, to the common good, and thus is neutral, is above conflicts, it in fact has an interest in the universal (to legitimate its own existence as a social group) and therefore, it historically had to invent the universal (“the law, the idea of public service, the idea of general interest, etc.” – p. 90). Thus, it invented “domination in the name of the universal in order to accede to domination.” (90)
He then notes that, currently, “technocrats and epistemocrats,” dominate in the contemporary society by increasing and more skilful appeal to “reason and the universal.” Consequently, the current strategy of the social struggle is:
One makes one’s way through universes in which more and more technical, rational justifications will be necessary in order to dominate and in which the dominated can and must also use reason to defend themselves against domination, because the dominants must increasingly invoke reason, and science, to exert their domination.” (90)
Sociology, then should turn from “putting its rational instruments of knowledge at the service of an increasingly rational domination” to bringing “these mechanisms to light” in order to “rationally analyze the domination and especially the contribution that rational knowledge can make to domination.” (91)


Chapter 5. The Economy of Symbolic Goods
In this chapter, Bourdieu analyses how symbolic economy, whose operation requires demonstration of disinterestedness, can still function as economy, i.e. involve operations of calculations of profit, etc. Bourdieu emphasises that the first condition for the economy of gifts is a temporal interval between a gift and a countergift: “the interval had the function of creating a screen between the gift and the countergift and allowing two perfectly symmetrical acts to appear as unique and unrelated acts.” (94)
In societies, there is an understanding that a gift requires reciprocation, which is expressed, e.g., in proverbs. “But this collective truth is collectively repressed. The time interval can only be understood by hypothesizing that the giver and the receiver collaborate, without knowing it, in a work of dissimulation tending to deny the truth of the exchange, the exchange of exact equivalents, which represents the destruction of the exchange of gifts.” (94—95)
Therefore, the social practices “always have double truths, which are difficult to hold together,” (95) as in the case of gift giving. A certain self-deception is involved, on both personal and collective level, which is inscribed in objective social structures (the logic of practice) and which governs the individual behaviour—being, still, not a rule, but a strategy: you can violate it, at the price of losing social capital.
The economy of symbolic goods works under the condition of “the taboo of making things explicit.” (96) Thus, social agents are obliged to behave under conditions which cannot be explicitly pronounced at the risk of being destroyed/devaluated. Yet Bourdieu rejects that this state of things is a sort of “common knowledge,” when each agent consciously knows of the nature of gift exchange, and it becomes an open secret. In his theory of action, human behaviours—including gift giving—“have as a basis something  different from intention, that is, acquired dispositions which make it so that an action can and should be interpreted as oriented toward one objective or another without anyone being able to claim that that objective was a conscious design (it is here that the “everything occurs as if” is very important).” (97-98) He compares dispositions with a feel for the game:
The player, having deeply internalized the regularities of a game, does what he must do at the moment it is necessary, without needing to ask explicitly what is to be done. He does not need to know consciously what he does in order to do it and even less to raise explicitly the question… of what others might do in return… (98)
In other words, dispositions impose on people certain forms of behaviour, which means that these rules of society can be followed only formally, without really putting one’s heart into them. “Social agents are not expected to be perfectly in order, but rather to observe order, to give visible signs that, if they can, they will respect the rules.” (98)
The hypocrisy of symbolic economy is part of the social patterns of dominations: in many societies, e.g., it is reflected in the fact that men are responsible for symbolic economy, while women—for “economic” economy. Gifts, therefore, can serve two purposes: they create social ties through the relationship of reciprocity, and they reinforce patterns of domination, as in case of potlatch, where actual goods are sacrificed to get symbolic capital—something which is then converted into social inequality.
The economy of symbolic goods is objectified in social structures of a whole social group:
For the alchemy <of symbolic economy> to function, as in the exchange of gifts, it must be sustained by the entire social structure, therefore by the mental structures and disposition produced by that social structure; there must be a market for like symbolic actions, there must be rewards, symbolic profits, often reconvertible into material profit, people must be able to have an interest in disinterestedness… But these relations remain very ambiguous and perverse. (101)
In a way, the symbolic economy acts as a form of violence, as it enables social agents standing on higher positions of the social hierarchy to impose their will on other social agents through objective social structures. It often can convert “relations of domination and submission into affective relations,” transform “power into charisma or into charm suited to evoke affective enchantment.” (102) This is how symbolic capital is acquired:
Symbolic alchemy… produces… transfiguration, or imposition of form, a capital of recognition which permits him to exert symbolic effects. This is what I call symbolic capital… Symbolic capital is an ordinary property (physical strength, wealth, warlike valor, etc.) which, perceived by social agents endowed with the categoories of perception and appreciation permitting them to perceive, know and recognize it, becomes symbolically efficient <and> exercises a sort of action from a distance, without physical contact.” (102)
For symbolic capital to work, historically there have to be certain actions which imposed on the social group certain forms of domination. Later, they were forgotten or repressed, and those dispositions which force social agents to obey the magic of symbolic capital work “without even posing the question of obedience.” (103) Therefore, symbolic violence is never perceived as violence, as agents are socially educated (inculcated) in the way to make them believe it is natural. The work of socialization, consequently, is done to produce social agents which would recognize and appropriate all necessary schemes of perception and appreciation which will later force them to obey.
Bourdieu then concentrates on the family as one of the units where symbolic capital is reproduced and which, as other venues of symbolic capital, works through a double logic: that of economic capital, which undermines family relations by introducing into families tensions, contradictions and conflicts; on the other hand, the reproduction of capital—particularly, symbolic, but also other forms of it—depends on the reproduction of the family:

The rich and powerful have large families (which is, I believe, a general anthropological law); they have a specific interest in maintaining extended family relations and, through these relations, a particular form of concentration of capital. (107)
He next turns to analyse how symbolic capital works in the fine arts, where symbolic capital is, to a great degree, opposed to economic capital. This scheme works, because a shared system of values has been created among artists in which mutual recognition of symbolic capital is achieved—a necessary preconditions for people to value “honor” over “money.”
In the last section, he applies the same analytical model to the church. He looks at the clergy as economic agents who repress in themselves homo oeconomicus, because the necessary preconditions for its economic welfare is denial of hidden economic motivations:
… The Church is also an economic enterprise; but … it is an economic enterprise that can only function as it does because it is not really a business, because it denies that it is a business. (113)
The social agents living within the Church are necessarily involved in self-deception: they must pretend they behave disinterestedly, while their behaviour is governed by economic motivations. This is how it works:
The work of self-deception is a collective work, sustained by a whole set of social institiutions of assistance, the first and most powerful of which is language, which is not only a means of expression but also a principle of structuration functioning with the support of a group which benefits from it: collective bad faith is inscribed in the objectivity of language (in particulary in euphemisms…)… and also in the bodies, in the habitus, the ways of being, of speaking, and so forth. (119)
 In conclusion, Bourdieu summarizes his observations over the logic of functioning of the symbolic capital. It is based on the repression and self-censorship of economic interests. Therefore, its laws are always imprecise and implicit (making things explicit is a taboo). Since the economic motivations behind the economy of symbolic goods are repressed, its practices and discourse are ambiguous, which is an evidence not of hypocrisy, but of the only mode of co-existence of opposites (economic motivations and their rejection in the name of symbolic capital).
The repression of economic interests is always a collective act, because symbolic capital requires collective recognition. Also, since practices related to symbolic economy are double-sided by nature, they are not rational, but rather are driven by the agents’ dispositions within habitus:
These common dispositions… are the product of an identical or similar socialization leading to the generalized incorporation of the structures of the market of symbolic goods in the form of cognitive structures in agreement with the objective structures of that market. (121)

6. The Scholastic Point of View
Bourdieu starts by discussing the concept of “scholastic vision,” which is possible only under certain circumstances, when the state provides individuals with means that allow them to use free time for the sake of, first, apprenticeship and then scholarship:
Adoption of this scholastic point of view is the admission fee tacitly demanded by all scholarly fields: the neutralizing disposition (in Jusserl’s sense), implying the bracketing of all theses of existence and all practical intentions, is the condition—at least as much as the possession of a specific competence –for access to useums and works of arts. It is also the condition for the academic exercise as a gratuitous game, as a mental experience that is an end in and of itself. (128)
Yet this very position—freedom of economic and temporal necessity—should be necessarily taken into account by scholars, because the scholastic vision is determined by it:
To the extent that it engages in a mode of thinking which presupposes the bracketing of practical necessity and the use of instruments of thought constructed against the logic of practice, such as game theory, the theory of probability, etc., the scholastic vision risks destroying its object or creating pure artifacts whenever it is applied without critical reflection to practices that are the product of an altogether different vision. (130)
 Without an awareness of his/her own scientific gaze, a scholar is always at risk of reading into his/her sources “scholastic fallacies,” such as this example:
We would also need to uncover all the unnoticed theoretical effects produced by the mere use of instruments of thought that, having been produced in a “scholastic situation” – such as means of recording, writing, transcription, as well as tools of “modelling,” genealogies, diagrams, tables, and so forth – reproduce in their functioning the presuppositions inscribed in the social conditions of their construction, such as the bracketing of time, of temporal urgency, or the philosophy of gratuitousness, of the neutralization of practical ends. (133)
In short… I would say that ignoring everything that is implicated in the “shcholastic point of view” leads to the most serious epistemological mistake in the human sciences, namely, that which consists in putting “a scholar inside the machine,” in picturing all social agents in the image of the scientist… or, more precisely, to place the models that the scientist must construct to account for practices into the consciousness of agents, to operate as if the constructions that the scientist must produce to understand and account for practices were the main determinants, the actual cause of practices. (133)
Bourdieu then attacks universalism as an explanatory model. Even in such seemingly universal spheres as science or arts, it is impossible to dissociate works of arts, or science, or ethics, or religion,
from the scholastic point of view and from the social and economic conditions which make the latter possible. They have been engendered in these very peculiar social universes which are the fields of cultural production—the juridical field, the scientific field, the artistic field, the philosophical field—and in which agents are engaged who have in common the privilege of fighting for the monopoly of the universal, and thereby effectively of promoting the advancement of truths and values that are held, at each moment, to be universal, indeed eternal. (135)
He concedes that one system of dispositions can be regarded as an exception, as a field in which shared (but still not universal) aesthetics, or modes of thinking, etc., are possible—that is, skhole:
Potentialities <of certain fundamental modes of construction of reality (aesthetic, scientific, etc.)> are actualized only in definite conditions and … these definite conditions, starting with skhole, as distance from necessity and urgency, and especially academic skhole and the whole accumulated product of prior skhole that it carries, are unevenly distributed across civilizations… and within our own societies, across social classes or ethnic groups or, in a more rigorous language, across positions in social space. (137)
Bourdieu concludes by summarizing his ideas about the nature of science and similar social fields (like fine arts). He argues that this is a unique type of social field, because logical constrains become embodies in the objective social structures, such as discussion, refutation, different positive (e.g., PhD defense) and negative (a pejorative book review) sanctions. Therefore, there is no need to try to search in sciences or fine arts any immanent transcendental reality. The objectivity of science is social, not “natural”: science emerges in different social realities, but the social constraints invoked to create it would work more or less in the same way everywhere or anywhere. And since the foundations of science (including its pretence for being “universal”) are social, Bourdieu concludes:
We can expect the progress of reason only from a political struggle rationally oriented toward defending and promoting the social conditions for the exercise of reason, a permanent mobilization of all cultural producers in order to defend, through continuous and modest interventions, the institutional bases of intellectual activity. Every project for the development of the human spirit which, forgetting the historical grounding of reason, depends on the sole force of reason and rational discourse to advance the causes of reason, and which does not appeal to political struggle aimed at endowing reason and freedom with the properly political instruments which are the precondition of their realization in history, remains prisoner of the scholastic illusion. (139-140)

A Paradoxical Foundation of Ethics
Among possible social strategies, there is a subset of strategies which social agents can use to pretend, or appear, that they conform to the universal social rules of their society. This is done to receive the recognition, because “groups always reward conduct that conforms universally (in reality, or at least in intention) to virtue.” (142) Display of disinterestedness is particularly valued, “the subordination of the I to the us, or the sacrificing of individual interest of the general interest, which defines precisely the passage to the ethical order.” (142) The social mechanism invoked here is “the universal strategy of legitimation”:
Those who act according to the rule have the group on their side and at the same time ostensibly place themselves on the group’s side through a public act of recognition of a communal norm, which is universal because it is universally approved within the limits of the group. (142)
However, the interest in disinterestedness can also pursue certain interests (read: symbolic capital), which is well-known in all social groups, therefore “a formally universal behavior can always be suspected of being the product of an effort to please or to gain the group’s approval, of attempting to appropriate the symbolic force…” (143)
Yet even this hypocritical pursuit of interest by behaving as if one is disinterested is important, because it, despite everything, still is a “vehicle of progress toward the universal.” (143) Both hypocrisy in the name of the universal (read: human values) and its apparently nihilistic criticism in fact contribute to the universalization. The conclusion which Bourdieu draws is that in order to have a morally/ethically virtuous politics, it is necessary to create social conditions in which being virtuous/ethical will bring reward in form of symbolic/economic capital:
Political morality does not fall from heaven, and it is not innate to human nature. Only a realpolitik of reason and morality can contribute favorably to the institution of a universe where all agents and their acts would be subject—notably through critique—to a kind of permanent test of universalizability which is practically instituted in the very logic of the field. (144)