Cathedrals,consumption,prosumption and space: Reading Ritzer with atmosphere theory

Introduction

An important element of George Ritzer's sociology is his contribution to the sociology of space and place. The theme is found in both his substantive and theoretical writing. In his famous McDonaldization of Society, as components in the rationalization process, Ritzer (2013) describes the spatial features of fast-food restaurants: drive throughs; uncomfortable seating; and the maze-like organization of stores such as IKEA. In the Globalization of Nothing (Ritzer, 2007), borrowing from anthropologist Marc Augé, Ritzer identifies ‘nonplaces’ as the nullity of globalization that grounds all other nullities. And in his theory textbooks Ritzer includes theories of space and place in sections on Marxism, and elsewhere draws on Michel Foucault to characterize consumer settings as ‘islands of the living dead’ (Ritzer, 2003). Of course, the interest in space is on full display in Ritzer's Enchanting a Disenchanted World: Continuity and Change in the Cathedrals of Consumption, where he gives us the memorable analysis of the ‘cathedrals of consumption,’ an example of one of the most influential ‘new means of consumption.’

My interest in the sociology of space was deeply impacted by graduate seminars that I took with Ritzer in the early 2000s. In a course on the ‘Sociology of Consumption’ we read Walter Benjamin's The Arcades Project and Rosalind Williams’ Dream Worlds: Mass Consumption in Late Nineteenth Century France. Ritzer doubled down on the theme in a follow-up seminar on ‘Spaces and Places.’ The course was focused on social geography and relied on Dear and Flusty's The Spaces of Postmodernity: Readings in Human Geography as well as writings by Henri Lefebvre, Edward Soja, Augé and the Harvard School of Design. Ritzer's writing and seminars on space have always had a personal relevance for me; an experience that I am sure is shared by many. In the 1980s, I grew up only blocks away from West Edmonton Mall (Ritzer, 2010: 105, 123), one of the cathedrals of consumption mentioned in Ritzer's Enchanting a Disenchanted World: Continuity and Change in the Cathedrals of Consumption. I knew the mall well having spent many hours recreating, working, or just wandering through it. Ritzer's books and seminars, a combination of clear writing and rich exposition, helped me to better understand this part of my life. In recent years, inspired by Ritzer's work, I have been drawn to the field of atmosphere studies (Stepnisky, 2014, 2020, 2023). In honour of George, then, in this article I explore the ideas that emerge if we read his theories through the lens of atmosphere. I focus especially on his analysis of the cathedrals of consumption but conclude with some reflections on his recent work on prosumption.

Atmosphere theory

Atmosphere theory identifies a familiar element of human experience – the feelings, mood, or ambience that we encounter in almost all human spaces, for example, the festivity of a carnival or the solemnity of a funeral. Though there are many styles and types of atmosphere theory, most agree that atmosphere is a phenomenon that emerges through the interaction between subjects and objects, and self and world. It is a product, equally, of sense, imagination, and the objective qualities of the material and non-material things that make up a place.

Though atmosphere can develop out in the open (e.g., a city park), in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries it is increasingly associated with the interiors of buildings. Developments in fields such as architecture and design have allowed increasing sophistication in the size and variety of atmospheric interiors and the moods that they inspire in people (Pallasmaa, 2012). Ritzer, for example, refers to the ‘spectacular, simulated interiors’ of the cathedrals of consumption and says that we can distinguish between that which is consumed (commodities) and the means of consumption, such as malls or cruise ships, themselves. These spaces are not just locations for the sale of commodities, but part of the experience of consumption itself.

Indeed, at least some atmosphere theorists define the current historical moment through the lens of atmosphere. In an extension of ideas first developed by Walter Benjamin (1982/1999) Gernot Böhme (2017: 4, 1993) says that we have moved into an ‘aesthetic economy,’ made up of consumer systems that depend upon the distribution and sale of feelings and experiences rather than sign values, exchange values, or use values in themselves. And both Peter Sloterdijk and Ritzer trace the origin of the current moment, and its propensity for mood creation, to nineteenth century cathedrals of consumption such as the Parisian Arcades and the Crystal Palace of the 1851 London Great Exhibition, though Sloterdijk (2013: 175) adds that if we really want to understand the current moment, we need to turn our attention to ‘the architectural models of today – above all the shopping malls…exhibition centers, major hotels, sports arenas and indoor amusement parks.’ These, of course, are the objects that Ritzer analyses in Enchanting a Disenchanted World: Continuity and Change in the Cathedrals of Consumption.

Ritzer and atmosphere

Though Ritzer does not directly theorize atmosphere he refers to atmospheres and their importance throughout Enchanting a Disenchanted World: Continuity and Change in the Cathedrals of Consumption. Early in the book he suggests that the cathedrals of consumption ‘contribute to the general atmosphere of consumption’ in contemporary society (Ritzer, 2010: 33). Later, drawing on Max Weber, Ritzer (2010, 55) uses atmospheric imagery to describe the disenchanted world of modern consumption. It is a ‘polar night’ of ‘icy darkness’ and ‘hardness.’ Against this backdrop, cathedrals of consumption appear as larger than life spaces that lift consumers out of their hum drum existence allowing them to ‘float’ together in a shared space (Sloterdijk, 2013). He describes the interiors of cathedrals with words such as phantasmagoric, dream-like, and spectacular (see also Benjamin, 1982/1999). In most instances, though, when Ritzer describes atmosphere, he talks about how cathedral designers and shop owners use atmosphere to manipulate consumer behaviour. For example, malls manage emotion by offering ‘bright, cheery, and upbeat environments’ (Ritzer, 2010: 83) and quoting a journalist Ritzer says retail environments ‘use…ambience, emotion, sounds and activity to get customers interested in the merchandise and in the mood to buy’ (Ritzer, 2010: 101). A few pages later he refers to the ‘western atmosphere’ (Ritzer, 2010: 107) created by the Roy Rogers fast-food chain. Later, in his analysis of landscapes of consumption, Ritzer says that the ‘structure and ambiance of these settings…contribute to [the] difference in the duration of the consumers’ stay’ (Ritzer, 2010: 164).

Generally, then, when Ritzer refers to atmospheres, he is talking about the ways that they are used to attract and hold consumers. Atmosphere theory helps to develop this idea in two ways.

First, it offers an ontology, or theory of human being, which explains why consumers are drawn to cathedrals, above and beyond the relatively crass desire for spectacle. For Sloterdijk, places such as cathedrals attract and hold consumers because they elaborate a fundamental human need to live and act within protective, atmospheric enclosures. He traces this need to the prenatal experience: a ‘pre-subject’ (the foetus) floating with an Other (the placenta) in a comforting, nourishing surrounding (the womb) (Sloterdijk, 2011: 478). Whether Sloterdijk intends this as a metaphor or a matter-of-fact description of the human developmental process the point is the same: humans are the kinds of beings that ‘float’ with others in shared spaces. This need is built deep into the structure of our being, and constantly calls out for affirmation and elaboration. Sloterdijk adds to this when he says that, in their ideal form, atmospheres are ‘pampering spaces,’ by which he means spaces designed to provide relief from the risks and struggles of life outside of them. On this interpretation, cathedrals of consumption are one of the most recent variations on this human effort to develop comfort interiors, though as we will see in a moment, this variation is full of contradictions that ultimately undermine their capacity to serve this deep human need.

Second, the architects and designers of cathedrals of consumption know how to manipulate and control atmospheres. There are three aspects to this. First, atmosphere is created through the organization and arrangement of objects. Ritzer identifies several techniques through which dreams and spectacle are created. These include ‘simulation,’ ‘implosion,’ and ‘manipulations of space and time’ (Ritzer, 2010: 169). The effectiveness of these techniques depends on knowledge that architects, designers, and imagineers have of the ways that different kinds of material act on the senses and imagination. Böhme (2017) and Jahani Pallasmaa (2012) contribute to this line of thought when they tell us that atmosphere depends upon a relationship between people and things. Ritzer emphasizes this same point when he says that ‘the new means of consumption are better characterized by interactions with things than with people’ (Ritzer, 2010: 37). Consider the different feelings evoked by a plastic, wooden, or stone table. Atmosphere is generated not only through the materials used in construction, but also when objects of different affective value and meaning are arranged in consumer spaces. Böhme (2017: 4) refers to this as the ‘ecstasy’ of objects. Objects are not self-contained entities but rather project feeling and meaning into space, ‘tincturing’ atmosphere (Böhme, 2017: 18). Ritzer (2010: 83) makes the same point when, in the context of the mall, he talks about Margaret Crawford's idea of adjacent attraction.’ He says that ‘mundane objects are made to seem more desirable by being surrounded with different and more exotic objects.’ Quoting Rosalind Williams, he adds that malls use décor ‘to imbue store's merchandise with glamour, romance and therefore consumer appeal’ (Ritzer, 2010: 66). These various devices aim to make shopping an ‘overplus,’ sensory experience. Buying goods becomes a way of having a ‘souvenier’ of this experience.

This arrangement of objects takes on an even more spectacular dimension when we consider what Ritzer calls the ‘landscapes of consumption,’ (Ritzer, 2010: 151) examples of which include the Las Vegas Strip, Easton Town Center in Columbus, Ohio (Ryan, 2005), and the centre of Milan, Italy. Here not just objects but the arrangement of buildings, streets and monuments produce unique atmospheres that attract tourists and shoppers. I go to Vegas not just to take in shows and gamble in casinos, but to feel the atmosphere of the strip.

The above examples focus on the way in which physical objects and atmospheres are transformed by adjacency. But the atmosphere literature also includes examples of techniques in which non-material entities are the target of action: lighting; smells; sound; and even the air itself. Indeed, air-conditioning is a commanding feature of contemporary consumer space. No surprise then that Sloterdijk (2013: 66) frequently uses the metaphor of air-conditioning to describe atmosphere in the contemporary moment: ‘where there was ‘lifeworld,’ there must now be air conditioning technology.’ Healy (2014: 36) analyses how air-conditioning is used to manage the ‘atmospheres of consumption’ in shopping in malls. He offers a history of mall air-conditioning, dating back to 1919, noting that air-conditioning has been especially important in the malls of the hot American South. In addition to providing relief from the outdoors, air-conditioning creates a uniformly languid, passive state of ‘thermal monotony’ that potentially makes people ‘susceptible to external influence” (Healy, 2014: 38).

Third, alongside the arrangement of objects, and the manipulation of intangibles, atmosphere theory draws attention to the role that the users of space play in the generation of atmosphere. The atmosphere of a theatre depends as much on actors and the silent, attentive audience as it does the lighting and objects on stage. Cathedrals of consumption also depend upon their users to maintain atmosphere. Malls need shoppers walking, eating, chatting, and of course buying. Stadiums need fans cheering and chanting (Edensor, 2015). Casinos need the sounds of gamblers working the slot machines. Cathedrals of consumption are designed to guide and evoke these atmosphere-generating activities. For example, the McDonald's restaurant encourages fast and ‘frantic’ movement (Ritzer, 2010: 164). In contrast, the ‘cavernous’ Duomo cathedral in combination with the numerous cafés in Milan, Italy, creates an atmosphere that is ‘conducive to leisurely strolls’ (Ritzer, 2010: 164). In other words, it is not just materials (stone vs plastic) and symbols (the crucifix of Christianity vs. the Golden Arches of McDonald's), or even the arrangement of materials (the wooden pews in a cathedral vs the hard, fixed chairs in a fast-food restaurant) that generate atmosphere but also the way that people move through these spaces (franticly vs leisurely).

A Ritzerian critique

Readers of his work will know that Ritzer has developed a critique of cathedrals of consumption that cuts through their spectacle and glamour. Ritzer shows how modern consumer spaces are inevitably undermined by the empty rationalization that underpins their construction and design. Indeed, the spectacle of the cathedrals is meant to provide uplift, relief and distraction from the emptiness that generally pervades consumer capitalism. This critique can be extended to the cathedral atmospheres. If at first, the atmospheres cultivated in the cathedrals feel like they lift us up, allow us to float, and dream, pamper us, then inevitably these atmospheres are revealed as ‘thin’ atmospheres (Healy, 2014: 39). They take advantage of the existential and ontological needs identified by Sloterdijk, to attract and hold consumers, but ultimately sell them short, never properly filling out space in ways that are authentically nourishing and uplifting.

Ritzer gives numerous examples of instances when cathedrals reveal their thin underbelly. For example, in cathedrals the world of dreams ‘filled with everything one could ever imagine’ (Ritzer, 2010: 64) quickly becomes ‘a nightmarish world filled with spectres, ghosts and a profusion of things that seem simultaneously within one's grasp and impossible to attain’ (Ritzer, 2010: 65). Where cathedrals try to create atmospheres that allow people to float together, Ritzer (2010: 71), quoting William Kowinski describes ‘a “zombie effect’” of customers ‘floating for hours in malls without an awareness of the passing of time.’ This kind of floating is a weak substitute for the kind of floating enabled by creative, authentic engagement of people with their world. Finally, of course, Ritzer's analysis forces us to confront the fact that all spectacle, including spectacular atmosphere, is underpinned by an empty rationalization. Sloterdijk (2013) also recognizes this and adds that ultimately the psychosocial mood of such spaces is boredom. Consumers float in malls, absorbing the atmosphere, taking in spectacle precisely because the consumer culture offers no opportunities for meaningful action and engagement.

In the spirit of Ritzer's style, borrowing from a distinction introduced by Duff (2010) and Healy (2014), we can compare ‘thick’ and ‘thin’ atmospheres. Architect Jahani Pallasmaa (2012: 46) says that objects are atmospheric because they invite the human eye, and senses more broadly, to ‘palpate’ them. The senses reach out to the objects, get inside of them (or vice versa, they get inside of us), and thereby, through the object, ground human beings. The world becomes atmospheric when multiple objects and intangibles, arranged in a space, allow sensual−imaginative combination and fusion. Pallasmaa says that ‘life-enhancing architecture has to address all the senses simultaneously, and to help to fuse our image of self with experience of the world’ (Pallasmaa, 2021: 12). Thick atmosphere depends upon this intimate, deep, and integrative interaction with the surrounding world. Healy (2014: 39), quoting Duff, underlines this point: ‘Whereas “[t]hick places invite the individual's ‘concernful absorption’ − a deepening and broadening of the individual's lived experience of place - while supporting various practices of “personal enrichment’” (Duff, 2010: 886), the absence of sustained affective and experiential connections in ‘thin places’ encourages distraction.’

In the thin atmospheres of cathedrals of consumption the novelty of objects, the materials out of which they are produced (mostly painted plastic, steel, glass, and mirror), and the fantastical atmospheres they create, do not have the familiarity to provide depth of engagement. Indeed, the very juxtaposition of objects and time-space compression that creates spectacle demands constant, frenetic, movement of eyes and senses. Consumers never engage with objects but pass over them, only left with quick impressions and feelings. This passivity – passing over rather than engaging with − as we learned earlier from Healy, is deepened by the languorous condition imposed by air-conditioning. In the same way that Ritzer uses Augé's nonplaces to describe the nullities of globalization, we can call these ‘nonatmospheres’ or ‘naughtmospheres.’ Nonplaces lack specificity and attachment to local history and meaning systems. So too, naughtmospheres are of a generic quality, recognizable as moods not connected to any one place but rather found in a plethora of cosmopolitan, consumer nonplaces: malls; airports; and the ubiquitous fast-food restaurants (see also Duff, 2010; Healy, 2014). Even the stand-out cathedrals and landscapes such as Disneyland and Las Vegas are built from the same materials and rely on the same moods as all the other cathedrals, though on a larger-scale and in greater abundance.

Conclusion: Prosuming atmosphere

While the concept of cathedrals of consumption offers rich fuel for theory and analysis, cathedrals have since been joined by new varieties of consumption (Ritzer et al., 2005). Indeed, one of the hallmarks of Ritzer's work has been to show how the attraction and spectacle of cathedrals always wane and are replaced by new forms. Recently, Ritzer (2014; Ritzer et al., 2012) has been writing about ‘prosumption’ and by way of conclusion I reflect on how this aligns with atmosphere theory.

Prosumption is the idea that in capitalism value is created through the work of both producers and consumers. Ritzer offers IKEA as an example. On the one hand, IKEA produces the basic materials and design instructions out of which furniture can be made. On the other, the product is incomplete without the work the consumer does, at home, to put the pieces together.

The concept of prosumption is relevant to the study of atmosphere. As pointed out earlier, all atmospheres depend upon the engagement of consumers, even if all they do is float passively through shopping malls. But Sloterdijk (2016) argues that one of the spatial accomplishments of the twentieth century is the development of the one-person apartment (or we could also say single-family dwelling). The one-person apartment is the location in which atmospheres are produced that historically would have been generated in public spaces. For example, the exertion of the gym is simulated through at-home exercise equipment, the calm of the library through home offices and personally curated bookshelves, and the warmth of the ancient campfire or café through the living room or kitchen.

Adapting Ritzer's terminology, we can refer to the process by which these at home atmospheres are created as domestic prosumption. The practice of domestic prosumption has been on offer for decades, but was perfected during the COVID-19 pandemic as malls were forced to limit consumer access (and are only recovering now) and home delivery services such as Amazon, SkipTheDishes, and even Zoom, a relationship delivery technology, became central features of our lives. Again, IKEA provides a model for domestic prosumption. Yes, as Ritzer points out, the IKEA store is a maze in which people get lost, but it is also a collection of domestic atmospheres; simulations of bedrooms, kitchens, and living rooms, designed to inspire consumers to use their products to create home atmospheres. Where atmospheric prosumption in the cathedrals requires only the minimal, most passive consumer input, here consumers are tasked with arranging IKEA goods, or accessories ordered through Amazon in the home according to their own atmospheric disposition. Especially, in a period when public spaces and large gatherings in cathedrals were forbidden, or at least frightening, domestic atmospheric prosumption emphasized the pampering qualities of atmosphere and allowed consumers to exercise agency over the kinds of feelings they needed at home to ground themselves. Among other factors, the rise of domestic prosumption has led to the abandonment of shopping malls and their attendant atmospheres.

Of course, domestic atmosphere prosumption is rife with contradictions. For one, such practices reproduce the inequalities that are part of contemporary consumer capitalism. Only people with atmosphere sustaining income can create such personal atmospheres. The cathedrals of consumption are expensive to build and underpinned by rationality, but at least their dreamworlds are available to people who may not have the income to buy the objects they are selling. Second, like the cathedrals, domestic prosumption is underpinned by rational processes, including at home naughtmospheres. Most modern homes and apartments are designed cheaply by developers on widely used templates of spatial layout, using generic construction materials. In the process of atmosphere prosumption they are filled up with objects made from cheap materials that have relatively little history or meaning to their users. Moreover, even the arrangement of objects to create atmosphere is often borrowed from home improvement television programmes and social media images. Third, as many learned during the COVID-19 pandemic, domestic atmospheres, in themselves, when one has limited access to public spaces, can become stifling, monotonous, and expose the boredom that underpins life in the contemporary consumer society…unless of course one decides on a home makeover.