Conspicuous Signals

While the Daily Dish is often fascinating, this post troubles me. There are a number of assumptions with troubling consequences. It is itself a response to Matt Yglesias, who regrets that reading a book on the Kindle does not have the same signaling capacity as reading it on paper. Conor Clarke objects to his concern on the basis that it is a desire for "conspicuous consumption." He refutes conspicuous consumption in this fashion:

First, the supply of status in a given society is fixed. If I go from being the 198,745,647th most popular person in the United States to the 198,745,644th most popular person, I must displace some others on the way up. In the game of status, not everyone can be a winner. Second, conspicuous consumption leads to an arms-race mentality that produces wasteful consumption. Every dollar or minute I spend pruning my outfit or adjusting my bookshelf is a dollar or minute that I will not be spending on something intrinsically enjoyable, like writing a blog post.

Firstly, the notion of "status" as a single, linear scale is demonstrably nonsense. Consider the case where the book is Das Kapital, and then consider Atlas Shrugged. Each book will signal something different to different observers, not a flat "+15 status points." The idea of a unified status scale only works if you conflate "status" with "wealth" -- which, to be sure, often occurs in normal cases of conspicuous consumption (indeed, since the Kindle is an expensive luxury, it fits the traditional definition better than any single book). There is a difference between signals which are intended to convey superiority and those which are intended to convey certain values or interests (they may be intertwined, however).

Actually, the question of intent to signal is rather interesting. Yglesias could, if he wished, still purchase the physical copy of the book. Why doesn't he? The Kindle copy is cheaper and more convenient, functionally superior. If he bought the physical book, that would be a wasteful display -- conspicuous consumption.

Secondly and relatedly, Clarke assumes that all outward signs ("outfit...bookshelf") are there only to serve as signs. He seems to discount the possibility that one has read (or even intends to read) the books on one's bookshelf. Now, if the books are there to serve as status symbols, then they are false signals, a representation with no reality -- a lie, if you will. I think we can all agree, without further ado, that we disapprove of liars and especially posers. But why? Well, for one, they are polluting a formerly useful channel of communication.

While everything about us is, to some degree, a signal, books are especially useful in that regard. Signals are often symbols -- they stand for something else, a community, an idea. Your mohawk, my leather jacket, a briefcase -- they suggest things. A book, simply enough, stands for the text between its pages, and all its attendant notions. A well-understood book is very concise in this way. Not to mention, for the book to be at it's most effective, you should be reading it. It requires action and continued effort to display, and this is fundamentally honest. To carry around a book with no intention of reading it -- how sad!

So, a representation with no reality is a lie. Then what is a reality with no representation? Isn't this also dishonest? If I wrap a romance novel in brown paper because I am ashamed of it, there is something amiss. In that case, though, the concealment is a deliberate action on my part. For Yglesias, it is simply the nature of the Kindle that causes the appearance to be separated from the contents. Obviously, the Kindle has many advantages, and I wouldn't judge him for using it, but it does lack a certain intrinsic honesty found in books.

As I mentioned, the problem with signals is that they can be faked. This is the disadvantage of brevity. Some things are easier to fake, however. It is easier to carry one book falsely than to arrange a whole fake bookshelf, and harder still to make sure all those book are well-worn and tastefully annotated (note: but not impossible). The lesson here, however, is not to say "all representations are false", throw up your hands and give up on communicating with other humans. It simply requires that you not take any one signal in isolation. CONTEXT MATTERS.

Now, this does produce something of an argument in favor of "conspicuous consumption," from the observer's point of view. If someone is willing to spend money on something, they must care about it to some degree -- or they care about appearing to care. Sometimes this is good enough. This is how I interpret the custom of wearing a suit to an interview: it doesn't really prove that you're "professional"; it proves that you realize they expect you to look "professional," which is a good first step.

As a final point, Clarke mentions that one can now use Facebook and Twitter to substitute for the "book cover effect" by creating virtual bookshelves and such. These are great (I use one) and have the advantage that you can keep note of books you've borrowed from the library and read (conspicuous non-consumption?). On they other hand, if you're concerned about false signals, they're much easier to fake because, after all, they're free. I concede, however, that free-ness removes the issue of wasteful spending. More importantly though, these programs aren't really a replacement, since they operate on the Internet. Much as I love the Internet, it still pales in comparison to the physical world as a medium for socialization.

In essence, I object to Conor Clarke on the grounds that not all visible activity is conspicuous consumption.

EDIT: The whole blogpile begins with this piece in Vanity Fair, which is interesting but pushes the status/conspicuous consumption angle much more heavily. Clarke is justified in using the term on those grounds, but it was not clear to me from his piece (see, folks? context). Derek Thompson's response to the VF piece is also worth looking at. Everything I argued above still holds, but I may have misrepresented Conor Clarke on the way. Hopefully I can tackle this whole "culture snobbery" thing from another angle soon.