Marie Kondo and the De-Stuffing of America

As I wrote my recent post that leaned heavily on the post-Marxist, post-Structuralist philosophy of Jean Baudrillard, I looked about at my living room, stuffed with moving boxes and bags destined for charity donation, and thought:

Why is there so much stuff?

There was stuff I’d not touched for weeks, months, even years. And yet there were also clearly things I could recognize as having gotten after we had moved in to this apartment. Why was there so much stuff? Why had I acquired yet even more of it? And why had I not gotten rid of more of it earlier? The evidence was unmistakable, something, beyond rational understanding had driven and was still driving my urge to continually get more or consume.

When a behavior goes beyond reasonable measure, it suggests that something more is driving it: a compulsion, a mania, mental illness, or, perhaps most insidious of all, a narrative.

Ostensibly I bought those objects in order to find enjoyment, satisfaction, and some measure of fulfillment. This is the conventional wisdom of consumption. But as I noted earlier, these are possessions I have had for years and have not directly benefited from. Clearly that function was secondary or perhaps even irrelevant. What was really going on here?.

George Ritzer summarized Jean Baudrillard’s interpretation of the deeper function of consumption in his introduction to the English translation (1998) of Baudrillard’s The Consumer Society (1970):

[Narrative 1] consumption is not, contrary to conventional wisdom, something that individuals do and through which they find enjoyment, satisfaction and fulfilment. Rather, [Narrative 2] consumption is a structure … a coded system of signs. Individuals are coerced into using that system. The use of that system via consumption is an important way in which people communicate with one another. ^*

Terms “Narrative 1,” “Narrative 2,” and emphasis mine

The collection in boxes destined for charity were silent sentinels attesting that they were part of an organism’s desire (mine) to express something within the “language” of consumption, within “Narrative 2.” My consumption acts were “signs” whose “signifieds” meant “educated and erudite,” “funny,” “chic,” “ironically detached,” et al.

I am certainly not alone in living through the brainwashing effect of “Narrative 1.” As we drown in seas of hoarded signs used to express “adventurous,” “romantic,” or “deeply depressed and hoarding stuffed animals” — that is, stuff — there’s the general sense that capitalism’s promise of “enjoyment, satisfaction and fulfilment” has fallen short. We’re desperate because we are addicts trying to kick but going back for one more. Additionally, because of the power and volume of global late-stage capitalism, we are mute: we don’t have language that isn’t already part of the consumption system and, as a result, we have no mouth with which to scream.

And here’s where a revolutionary comes in. An unlikely Neo. A Japanese woman with a Western name: Marie “KonMari” Kondo.

Marie Kondo a.k.a. KonMari: patron saint of tidying

Kondo made the de-acquisition of stuff palatable; that is, she made rejecting the core act of signification under global capitalism cute, desirable and hip.

“Materialism is KFC for the Soul”

Johann Hari, Lost Connections

While Kondo was certainly a visible symbol, she was not alone. Witness the alternatives bubbling up as counter-signal to capital’s siren song:

‘I gave away our stuff’: the minimalists doing more with less Growing numbers of people, partly inspired by Marie Kondo, are ditching consumerism for a simpler life Source

There Is Too Much Stuff

The human brain can’t contend with the vastness of online shopping. Source

moss-viewing has become increasingly trendy, especially with young women, who go on guided tours to Japan’s lush moss-carpeted forests. Source

And, of course, where there is reformation, there is counter-reformation:

Americans Are Turning Spare Bedrooms Into Giant Closets As stores disappear, shopping in your own wardrobe becomes the ultimate luxury. Source

I recognize it now. Perhaps my efforts to tune this site back up, to tie it to a newsletter, and to drop out from poisonous social media were all part of a desire to say: “I will speak for me in the language of English (not purchase) mediated by no corporation.” I like to think that I’m that rebellious.

Footnotes

*: I do not link to Baudrillard’s actual argument here since it’s spread throughout the work. Ritzer’s summation is sufficient to make my point here, but the work in its entirety is a worthy read.