Ethics, Consumption, and Virtue Signaling

Today is the last day of Slow Fashion October, hosted by the always-thoughtful Karen at Fringe Association. I did not participate, both because I thought enough about clothes before we immigrated to last me for a long time, and because I’ve been thinking about a different set of problems.

Of course, though, everything is connected.

One of the fundamental concepts of small-scale political activism right now is that we should “spend our privilege.” For instance, a white man with a corporate job might be able to very easily influence his company toward diversity in hiring. A person who hasn’t been disenfranchised from voting can vote for policies that improve the lives of those who have. And so on. Many of us have privilege that we can use on behalf of someone else.

What happens when the privilege you have to spend is actual dollars?

It’s easy to dismiss “check writing” activism as a lesser form, but if you’ve ever worked in a non-profit you know that “check writing” is, sometimes, the best thing you’ve got. Without funds, the best meaning volunteers and the lowest paid staff in the world can only do so much.

The other place we spend the hard cash of our privilege is in “voting with our dollars.” The premise of “voting with your dollars” is that by purchasing things in accordance with your values, you move the market in accordance with those values. If the non-organic produce rots on the shelf, and the organic sells like hotcakes, growers will start producing more organic. If we stop shopping at fast-fashion chains, they will stop destroying the environment to produce fast-fashion.

Voting with your dollars is a very murky prospect, though. Firstly, while writing a check to a non-profit is actual activism, albeit of a passive sort, buying an ethically produced silk blouse is not. There’s nothing wrong with buying an ethically produced silk blouse, necessarily, and maybe a lot right with it, but it isn’t a replacement for front-line work. Secondly, companies are on to you. Mainstream supermarket organic brands are almost entirely owned by mainstream supermarket non-organic brands, who are quite happy to take the money from both your eco-conscious pocket and your neighbor’s budget-minded one. Fashion is equally opaque.

Also, it’s just impossible to be a purely ethical consumer. Somebody, somewhere, is being screwed over, because that’s what capitalism does. What happens to retail workers when that fast-fashion store closes? What about when the entire high-street of a town is empty storefronts? Where does your favorite slow-fashion brand get their sewing machines? Their thread? Their lightbulbs? I’m not saying you should answer those questions–I’m saying that ethical shopping is chasing a unicorn, when you might be better off making your best bet (not giving up) and then worrying about something else.

Is the time you spent looking for a plastic-free, fair trade, organic cotton bra better spent thinking about ways to undo your complicity in systemic racism, or being a participating member of your community?

There is, again, nothing wrong with trying to be a better consumer, but it’s not activism and shouldn’t be confused for such. Instead it can very easily become an entirely empty signal of virtue, pointing out that you belong in the club of people who dress and eat, and thus believe, a certain way. That is, you are spending your privilege to buy, not fairness, but more privilege.

I don’t think there’s an easy answer here. I do believe, really, in supporting smaller or more ethical companies everywhere I can. I don’t think activism and conscious consumption are in any way mutually exclusive. But shopping is seductive and we are very good at letting ourselves off the hook of demanding real change.