Death by convenience
I'm taking a course at the local university on green economics and sustainable development. I'm doing the second batch of reading right now, and I find myself running over and over into a principle that drives our behavior as American consumers (which is to say, as Americans, since given the means to consume, consumption seems to become the default state without a lot of effort to the contrary).
I'm going to call this "the doctrine of convenience." I'm still in the early stages of mulling this over (and I know that more knowledgeable people than I have probably covered this ground already), but bear with me.
Axioms of the Doctrine of Convenience:
1. Anything that permits us more autonomy is better.
2. Anything that increases the speed with which a task can be completed is better.
3. Anything that decreases the effort exerted in the completion of a task is better.
4. Anything that decreases or prevents discomfort is better.
5. One should always strive for the highest level of convenience that one can obtain.
6. It is foolishness to choose not to advance to the highest possible level of convenience.
7. To return voluntarily to a lower level of convenience is choosing to be inconvenienced and is irrational.
Here are things that, in America, have been deemed inconvenient:
- Not having a personal automobile at your disposal is inconvenient.
- Walking, biking, or taking public transportation is inconvenient (unless extreme urban density makes the use of a car even more inconvenient).
- Using a larger electronic device when a smaller, lighter one is available is inconvenient.
- Using a slower electronic device when a faster one is available is inconvenient.
- Preparing a meal from whole ingredients is inconvenient.
- Not having a cell phone is inconvenient.
- Having to leave your house to use the internet is inconvenient.
- Traveling to multiple locations or for any distance to obtain goods or services is inconvenient.
- Having to ration activities, pursuits, or purchases to accomodate limited resources is inconvenient.
Obviously, this list could continue indefinitely. But what strikes me right now is that a lot of our so-called conveniences serve to isolate us. Portable personal electronic devices isolate us from spontaneous interaction with people in our vicinity. Reliance on personal automobiles isolates us from people in our community. Pre-packaged meals isolate us from the realities of the foods we consume. Malls, supermarkets, and department stores isolate us from the origins of the goods we consume, as well as from alternative local sources of those goods. These aren't new points; people have been making them for decades.
Still, I'm struck by the revelation that, when convenience is seen as a precondition for personal autonomy, isolation appears to be the default result. Additionally, convenience also feeds right into the our cycle of continuous consumption and disposal. This path is slowly killing us, on myriad levels. And it's all well and good to go to an uplifting public festival and talk about conservation, the common good, replacing isolationism with communitarianism, but in order to actually do put that into practice, we're going to have to willingly and mindfully buck the doctrine of convenience.
I'm going to call this "the doctrine of convenience." I'm still in the early stages of mulling this over (and I know that more knowledgeable people than I have probably covered this ground already), but bear with me.
Axioms of the Doctrine of Convenience:
1. Anything that permits us more autonomy is better.
2. Anything that increases the speed with which a task can be completed is better.
3. Anything that decreases the effort exerted in the completion of a task is better.
4. Anything that decreases or prevents discomfort is better.
5. One should always strive for the highest level of convenience that one can obtain.
6. It is foolishness to choose not to advance to the highest possible level of convenience.
7. To return voluntarily to a lower level of convenience is choosing to be inconvenienced and is irrational.
Here are things that, in America, have been deemed inconvenient:
- Not having a personal automobile at your disposal is inconvenient.
- Walking, biking, or taking public transportation is inconvenient (unless extreme urban density makes the use of a car even more inconvenient).
- Using a larger electronic device when a smaller, lighter one is available is inconvenient.
- Using a slower electronic device when a faster one is available is inconvenient.
- Preparing a meal from whole ingredients is inconvenient.
- Not having a cell phone is inconvenient.
- Having to leave your house to use the internet is inconvenient.
- Traveling to multiple locations or for any distance to obtain goods or services is inconvenient.
- Having to ration activities, pursuits, or purchases to accomodate limited resources is inconvenient.
Obviously, this list could continue indefinitely. But what strikes me right now is that a lot of our so-called conveniences serve to isolate us. Portable personal electronic devices isolate us from spontaneous interaction with people in our vicinity. Reliance on personal automobiles isolates us from people in our community. Pre-packaged meals isolate us from the realities of the foods we consume. Malls, supermarkets, and department stores isolate us from the origins of the goods we consume, as well as from alternative local sources of those goods. These aren't new points; people have been making them for decades.
Still, I'm struck by the revelation that, when convenience is seen as a precondition for personal autonomy, isolation appears to be the default result. Additionally, convenience also feeds right into the our cycle of continuous consumption and disposal. This path is slowly killing us, on myriad levels. And it's all well and good to go to an uplifting public festival and talk about conservation, the common good, replacing isolationism with communitarianism, but in order to actually do put that into practice, we're going to have to willingly and mindfully buck the doctrine of convenience.