A couple of posts back, I wrote about commodity theory and how the scarcity of an item makes it seem more valuable and more desirable. What I didn’t write about, however, was a possible mechanism for this interaction between scarcity and value – why would a rare thing be seen as valuable by your average consumer? Possibly it’s because people want to feel at least moderately unique, and possessing something rare is one way of feeling like you’ve achieved that. It depends on the culture you look at, of course, since the need-for-uniqueness can vary greatly depending on whether a culture is historically individualist or collectivist, although perhaps those differences are being diminished slowly through globalisation. Whatever the case, research has shown that people in more individualist societies (so-called “Western” societies, I guess) certainly react negatively to being told that they are, in fact, actually very similar to other people. Also, expressing your uniqueness via consumption is relatively safe (most people are unlikely to do something so unique that they end up going off the scale of social standards and become a social outcast) and relatively affordable (depending on what you want to buy to make yourself feel unique).
The need for uniqueness feeds into consumerism by putting people on the quest to define and accentuate their uniqueness by acquiring products – the rarer, the more valuable, the better. A problem pointed out in this research paper is that, at least in American society (and probably a few others), this creates a catch-22 consumer carousel – you buy a product that is rare in order to make yourself feel unique, but chances are that through media and advertising other people will become aware of that same product and also buy it, diminishing its rarity and eroding your sense of uniqueness, putting you on a quest to find yet another item that’ll make you feel unique. As long as people feed this need to distinguish themselves from others and feel unique, they may very well continue to purchase extensively without actually achieving any sense of success.
The 21st century consumer is a sophisticated one. Compared to past decades, especially prior to the sixties, we have greater access to information and we understand our rights better and we are more aware of our options. We’re not infallible, but we are more discerning and more informed than ever before. One topic we’re certainly more informed about is ethics. We know that various companies behave in what are commonly considered unethical ways, whether it’s unsustainable use of environmental resources or sweatshop labour or animal testing or creating pollution. If we look, we’re often able to find information about such practices. But how often do we do something about that? How often do we actually let ethical considerations shape our purchasing habits?
Rather infrequently, it seems, if this research paper is anything to go by.
It turns out that, despite the increased sophistication of consumers these days and the increased awareness of ethical issues, there’s very often a gap between any given consumer’s attitudes towards ethical issues and his or her actual behaviour concerning those issues: an attitude-behaviour gap, stretching between what a person knows and feels about ethical issues and problems and what they’re actually willing to do about it. A person might support an action, such as boycotting a company that has been revealed to use child labour, but whether that person actually does boycott the company is an entirely different matter.
If an issue is specific and high-profile enough, sometimes action on a large scale does happen. For example, the consumer boycott of Nestlé products due to its infant formula marketing practices has been estimated as having cost the company tens of millions of dollars. But that’s one conspicuous, highly publicised example, and is definitely a rarity. Despite having access to information about specific ethical concerns in relation to any given company or retailer, and despite consumers almost inevitably becoming aware of such issues through the ubiquitous media, on the whole apparently we’re still just not that motivated to actually do anything about it. We disapprove of it, but we don’t act on our disapproval.
A few studies have shown that, when it comes down to it, consumers simply don’t prioritise ethical and social issues when considering making a purchase, preferring to make their decisions based on price, value, quality and brand familiarity. And that’s perhaps the crux of it – when you have to consider so many other things in making a decision to purchase (and most of this blog is about the almost impossibility of the brain to make completely reasoned, unbiased, informed decisions), the additional effort of factoring in ethical considerations on top of everything else is almost overwhelming.
Is it possible to bridge the gap between attitude and behaviour, even when you decide to make ethical issues a priority along with price, value, quality and brand? Some people’s socioeconomic and financial position will prohibit them from making ethical issues a priority, which is understandable. But for those of us who do have the socioeconomic privilege of being able to factor in the additional issue of ethics in our consumer decision-making: we need to think about whether our actions match up with our attitudes. The more people who do try to carry their ethical attitudes through to actual actions, the more demand there will be for ethical behaviour and social responsibility from brands and companies.
So, as always, the message is: think critically. Think about how you’re thinking and be ruthless about criticising any inconsistencies – are you thinking one way but acting another? That’s what will truly make a discerning, informed consumer and will consequently actually make a difference in the world.
The threat of something becoming rare or unavailable seems to be a powerful motivator for action – an item’s diminished availability suddenly makes it seem that much more valuable and desirable, and in the context of consumer decision-making, it may drive the desire for and purchasing of a particular item. Obviously, economists and marketers know about the effects of scarcity on the perceived value of an object, and all those cries of “limited edition!” and “limited time only!” and “only while stocks last!” are of course designed to imply scarcity and make consumers more keen to buy. Commodity theory, first proposed by psychologist T.C. Brock in 1968, characterised the phenomenon from a psychological perspective, describing the relationship between the scarcity of an item and its perceived value. Many studies over the years have supported the relationship between the two things – the decreased availability of something does indeed lead people to value that thing more highly and consider it more desirable.
The psychological effects of commodity theory have been extensively exploited by fast fashion in particular (as described in this research paper, amongst many others). The entire premise of fast fashion is founded on fast production, fast responses to trends as they emerge, fast turn-over, and a pretty fast track to obsolescence for most items. Retailers thereby create an environment in which a particular item’s existence is fleeting – its shelf life is incredibly short because new items are constantly being introduced and slow-selling items are removed to make room for the new ones. People get to know that this is what fast fashion is about – companies like Zara and H&M and Top Shop have so wholly embraced the model that most people who shop at such places frequently enough know that if they don’t buy a particular item there and then, chances are it won’t be there when they come back the following week. It happens online too, for example, Lapin de Lune’s interaction with ASOS which she mentioned here on her Tumblr. All these retailers rely on their image of having a rapid rate of stock turn-over (supposedly in the name of staying on trend) to drive people to buy as impulsively and as frequently as possible.
That’s commodity theory at play right there. The rapid turn-over of stock and incredibly short shelf-lives form the perfect situation to create the perception that an item might become scarce at any moment, and you suddenly feel that it has become that much more valuable, perhaps prompting the compulsion to purchase the item before the opportunity disappears. It is a lucrative business model, obviously, but obviously it is not a system that is particularly encouraging of thoughtful, measured, circumspect consumption and decision-making.