Abstract
This book initially reads as relic of a dying breed: a weighty tome of ‘Theory’ duly delivered from the consecrated HQ of global theory development, Paris, by one of the world’s most distinguished social theorists, Luc Boltanski, alongside his co-author, Arnaud Esquerre. To offer extended discussions of enrichment and wealth with little corresponding attention to poverty, scarcity, stigma and exploitation flies in the face of the current ‘turn to inequality’, which has been the dominant social science trend over the past decade. The very style, and at times ponderous tone, of the book – with much theoretical speculation, many vignettes, but no systematic data analysis – appears out of keeping with our times. The impression of an old-fashioned theory book might be reinforced by a superficial browsing. Over 400 pages of dense text, packed with analytical elaborations and abstractions, coming to a head with a remarkable Appendix which systematizes the ‘Structures of Commodity Exchange’ in a set of algebraic formulations which most readers will find hard to fathom.
Nonetheless, make no mistake, this is an arresting and impressive book which repays serious attention. Critical discussions on its ideas have already appeared in Anglophone journals (Boltanski and Esquerre, 2016, 2017a, 2017b; Fraser, 2017; Susen, 2018). The analytical range is impressively broad. It engages with environmentalism, ‘waste’, capitalism and precarity in the sense of increased competition in the context of a weakened public sphere and decreased collectives (see Standing, 2019), through a sustained concern with rethinking the place of commodities, authenticity and hierarchical relationships, placed in the context of the temporal narratives in which they are embedded. Given that the sociology of consumption has been one of the most dynamic areas of sociology in recent decades, the book also stages an important move of hooking this concern with lifestyle and consumption practices back into a wider theoretical engagement with the wider dynamics of capitalist production, extending beyond simplistic Frankfurt School type analyses. Instead, Boltanski and Esquerre acknowledge the vast sphere of actors involved through production, consumption and intermediaries and illuminatingly the culturally embedded relationship between commodities and value.
At its heart of this book is a renewed engagement between social theory and ‘the economic’, which has largely fallen into abeyance. The classic move of social theory since Weber has been to place brackets around the economic world and to carve out other domains of ‘the social’ for attention. This strategy takes numerous forms, such as sniping at the instrumental model of ‘homo economicus’, criticising economistic and market-based explanations of social relations, and above all by construing ‘the social’ as somehow broader and more encompassing than the narrow realm of ‘the economic’. However, Boltanski and Esquerre will have none of this, and insist on returning sociological theory to engage with ‘the economic’, in all its messiness. In this way, their book is a certain kind of sociological response to the kickstarting of the economics of inequality, most significantly driven by Piketty’s (2014, 2020) emphasis on the escalation of ‘top-end’ income and wealth distributions. Yet, whilst placing ‘the economic’ at the heart of their book, Boltanski and Esquerre fully recognize that ‘culture’ is more important now than ever before. Compared to prior periods in which occupations were often handed down or learned on the job by and to family members, cultural know-how and ‘fit’ matter intensely (Friedman and Laurison, 2019; Puwar, 2004). The task is to find a way of weaving the cultural and economic together, as it is in the fruits of culture that economic success now depends.
One of the most arresting features of the argument is Boltanski and Esquerre’s insistence on narrative and the need to recognize the power of the past. This is valuable: much social theory takes an ‘epochalist’ form, in which theorists proclaim a brand-new epoch which is sweeping all before it (see Savage, 2009, 2021; see also Osrecki, 2015). By contrast, the authors argue that the enrichment economy elaborates and draws on the past. This is due to the way that collection is inherently ‘narrativized’, through being placed in a sequence where collections gather value as they are built on. This also allows them to recognize the significance of ‘authenticity’ and an economy where ‘the new resource is paradoxically, the past’ (p. 71). It is through this narrative form that commodities can transcend a ‘metaprice’, increase value and become worthy of sustained interest. The start of the book therefore stages a deliberate ‘return to Marx’, thorough a detailed engagement with the ‘commodity form’ itself, rather than treating these as ‘given’ tradeable units, as economists tend to do. Whereas, in the hands of previous social theorists, the commodity has been winnowed down to a single overarching principle (for Marx, that of exchange value, and the necessary contradiction this therefore poses for use value), at the heart of the book lies an innovative four-fold differentiation of the operation of commodities between standard, trend, asset and collection forms, to provide a more subtle account of the underpinnings of exchange and social life. This is an arresting and intriguing classification which we will draw out here.
The first of these four forms, which equates to the mainstream economic conception, including Marx’s, is rendered as the ‘standard’ form, based on Fordist principles of industrial mass production of a prototype. Boltanski and Esquerre, however, do not see this as the necessary or even dominant form of commodity production and have little to say about it: in this respect, they follow the same route as post-Fordist thinking. They, secondly, draw out the distinctive ordering of trend forms. The former is seen as embodying Bourdieu’s perspective on commodities, in which they can command a premium because of their ‘trendiness’ and their ‘symbolic capital’ (p. 223).
Here, they elucidate the need to link narratives to the analysis of commodities. One way in which trendy commodities can maintain their status is through the development of rich narratives, which in turn allow them to become collectable items – in which value remains over time. However, trendy commodities can become devalued and lose their standing, driven out by newer items conveying even more distinction. This is intriguing, though also schematic, as we discuss below.
Thirdly, there is the asset form, in which specific goods increase their value over time and so can act as investments. This form of commodity, represented most evidently by art works or postage stamps, can be seen as a sociological synthesis of Piketty’s celebrated r > g, that capital accumulates faster than the rate of economic growth, alongside a Bourdieusian conception of the power of ‘cultural capital’.
These first three conceptions of the commodity largely tread familiar ground and operate as a useful typology to divide up differing kinds of relationships with commodities. The key claim to innovation is that there is a fourth, collection form. This focus gives shape to the book as a whole, starting with the early pages which draws attention to the proliferation of ‘the practice of collecting over the past few decades’ (p. 15). This is the underpinning of an ‘enrichment economy’ which has gathered pace over recent decades, tied up with luxury, brands, and authenticity.
The concept of the enrichment economy extends Boltanski’s pragmatist conception of consumption, which over the past decade has become a very powerful current in sociological interpretations (see e.g. Warde, 2005). However, whereas much pragmatist sociology is centred on the daily use of goods for practical accomplishments, Boltanski and Esquerre emphasize how collectors themselves are committed to the collection of goods as a device for self-assurance and pleasure. This, they emphasize, is different from the kind of ‘distinction effect’ that Veblen and Bourdieu highlight.
It seems that expensive items are often stored away without being exposed to the eyes of others, and when serious collectors are involved, even out of the owners sight, since there are so many of them. It would appear, then, that such objects are accumulated mainly to be kept, sometimes to be contemplated in solitude, and placed in proximity with other objects of the same kind in a logic that closely resembles the logic of collecting for its own sake’ (p. 43).
Pragmatist theory is sometimes seen as descriptive and insufficiently politicized. The authors redress this through their ‘critique of capitalism’ (p. 332f). This is under-developed, taking the familiar form of a critique of financialization, but nonetheless signals their intent, and their advocacy of a ‘pragmatic structuralism’ is designed to encourage a welcome analysis of the wider parameters of consumption which practice-based studies do not always elaborate. Here, the heart of their critical conception of the enrichment economy pushes in the same direction as Boltanski and Chiapello’s (2005 [1999]) influential The New Spirit of Capitalism. In this vein, simply and glibly pitching against ‘neo-liberalism’ misses the way that capitalism has in fact ‘delivered’ for large numbers of people and has also incorporated critique into its very operation. Although we might baulk at their observation that the collection culture only becomes salient ‘in societies characterized by an excess of wealth’ (p. 195), they are surely correct to excavate the broader sociological importance of ‘ordinary wealth’ beyond the media-hyped studies of super-rich yachts and basement swimming pools.
We therefore welcome Boltanski and Esquerre’s ambitious aims. It is vital to renew ‘big picture’ social theory. They open up the possibility of seeing branding and consumption practices in a more elaborated perspective which arguably does justice to the values and identities of those who are actually consuming, rather than critic sitting on the side-lines sniping at the activities of those purchasing designer goods and expensive trinkets.
However, their arguments inevitably provoke questions. More could be said about the ‘genealogy’ of the idea of the collection form. It has echoes of surrealism, of Georg Simmel and Walter Benjamin’s flaneurs, or indeed middle and upper class Victorian practices of cluttering large houses with ornaments and objects (Harris, 2010). So, is the collection form new, or is it a revival of older more enduring motifs? And, given that these historical forbears are associated with elite practices of various kinds, does this mean that the ‘collection orientation’ is intrinsically oriented towards the wealthy who can best partake of it. In this vein, the book could be read by detractors as offering the perspective of wealthy academics reflecting on their lives pottering in left bank antique shops and flea markets (in pre-COVID-19 times, at least!). Even though this would be an unfair reading, by focusing on the ‘elite’ structures of commodity enrichment, much more could be said, following extensive literatures in cultural studies, about how creativity exists in a variety of different ways in standard forms of consumption as well as the collection form (Willis, 1990). Equally, when we think of ‘creators’, it would be limited to only think about a very narrow or specific view of a subset of renowned ‘artists’, when much social media income relates to content creators and influencers, the creation of ‘immaterial’ commodities, which is often related to the narrative of the individual and aspiration of followers, which is not considered elite, if anything more ‘low-brow’. Yet, what is being sold by influencers seems to relate quite strongly to luxury, in ‘expensive’ goods and lifestyles. While this in part may be related to the associated value of luxury commodities, it would be wrong to not consider how luxury exists many forms, as well as in aspiration.
Secondly, there is a danger that the four fold typology is over-rigid. More could be said about how these four different forms co-exist, and are not always easy to disentangle, and indeed can closely interact with each other. This is something which the valuable focus on narrative might be pushed further to note how similar commodities can be rendered across the various forms.
This leads to our major concern that the ‘standard form’ is deployed as something of a ‘whipping boy’, but in fact is more dynamic and mobile than the model of it deployed here. The trend form depends on its relational contrast with the standard form, which continues to make up the bulk of, for example fashion, consumption. Not to give equal weight to the standard form is counterintuitive. It is well documented in youth and cultural studies that consumption is engaged with creatively in even the most ‘mundane’ of ways such as with everyday cultural activities and commodities like clothing (see Willis, 1990). The deployment of the ‘standard form’ concept thus acts as something of a ‘straw person’ which is necessary for the authors to draw out the other forms, but at the risk of reifying and simplifying it. This puts a hierarchy on creativity and consumption and fails to see creativity in the most arbitrary of ways. What is missing here is a recognition of the cultural elements in how brands operate (e.g. p. 154) – and a somewhat simplistic rendering of the standard form which appears to be too uniform and does not reflect how motivations and utilities differ person to person. There is a danger that we unwittingly buy into the same elitist narratives which see creativity only in the light of wealth and not, more realistically, as engaged with in all kinds of ways.
This is important too, as desires for expressing ‘individuality’ may be expressed through opposition to what would fit in the ‘standard form’. Individuality can also be key motivation in which commodities are consumed, which is related through their discussions of bobos/hipsters who are so interested in being an individual that they would not even align themselves with the subculture of hipster (Greif, 2010). This leads us to question an over rigid differentiation between these four forms. For instance, one alternative approach is that appropriation (as is alluded to on p. 307) from the ‘standard’ form can be used by hipsters in order to make it a ‘trend’ form (also acknowledged in how they come to define construction of ‘trends’ – examples include blue collar workwear such as boiler suits and high vis jackets). Equally, forms initially associated with working class ‘chavs’ such as Nike joggers and gold hoops have been appropriated. In this sense, we are discussing the commercial exploitation of social hierarchies – hierarchies of wealth/class. To us then, the category of ‘loser’ in this enrichment economy seems to relate more strongly to ‘the left behind’ or even the ‘excluded’. Enrichment is based on hierarchies, and thereby underpins a culture of privilege. This is illustrative that there is a danger that the four analytical boxes can become too watertight: how enrichment in which vintage and ‘one-off’ pieces/ individuality are aspired to or consumed also involves the denigration of other commodity forms.
This, in turn, relates to another key issue regarding the way that French vignettes are routinely held up as if they exemplify broader trends without enough critical reflection on the ‘connected’ (Bhambra, 2007) relations of empire. Rather disarmingly, we are thus told that ‘The case of France is exemplary’ (p. 216). At times this is backed up through tangential vignettes – such as the claim that France is exemplary as a number 1 destination for tourism. Once more, it is important not to be deflected by any initial reactions, since the French focus can indeed be instructive, given its historical trajectory. Nonetheless it is crucial to situate the French experience more fully, to elicit the global/colonial context in which it came to be a ‘collection centre’. The wistful account here appears to argue that a central strategy of surviving loss of industry is through exploiting cultural heritage, which is necessarily geographically unequal. It would be remiss to discuss the historical and capitalist environments in which an enrichment economy has come to develop without pointing out that histories of colonialism are missing from such discussions. Boltanski and Esquerre go to some effort to acknowledge the specific historical contexts which enrich objects through their narrative and pay credence to the role of institutions such as museums in the development of this and the relationship to metaprice. What is missing from these debates, however, is the engagement with colonial theories which at one time challenge our current conceptions of society and history and at the same time allow us to think about global power (Tolia-Kelly, 2016). It is long overdue that we started considering colonial histories in enrichment and embodiment in how we come to own and understand objects, in how semiotic and symbolic meanings are developed. Additionally, tourism and historical attractions are in part only remaining in colonizer home countries as many historical artefacts, civilizations or societies were forcefully removed in colonized territories. In which case, whose histories are we talking about (Hall, 1999; Tolia-Kelly, 2016)? We need to pay more attention to the ways in which commodities have become enriched: solidifying the privilege of histories; through inheritance, cultural know-how, and – although not mentioned explicitly enough – colonialism.
Ultimately we should finish on a positive note since we are persuaded that the concept of the ‘collection’ is a fertile ground for further investigation. One route would lead us to engage more fully with concepts of kitsch and vintage. This makes us recognize the significance of ‘bargains’ – though bargain hunting is not something given much attention beyond the useful point that it relates to knowledge of where to go to get best deals – right place at right time, ‘eye’ for legitimate objects (that maybe seller doesn’t know about). This could be developed alongside memorial power and authenticity. This book is therefore to be recommended to reflect on how we might better understand the complexity of the commodity form, and how we might weave the cultural and economic together in a format which will allow us to do justice to 21st century global capitalism.