Work, Consumerism and the New Poor
Bauman, Z. (2005) Work, Consumerism and the New Poor - 2nd Edition (London: OUP)
Bauman’s book begins with a convincing analysis of the transformation of the self-sufficient craftsman and agriculturalist to the alienated industrial worker of modernity, docile under the panoptic gaze of the foreman and manager. He terms these obedient patriarchal workers ‘producers’.
The consumer society is made of different social stuff. The panopticon which pressed men to conform to monotonous habits is counterproductive to producing ideal consumers, who are, “groomed and trained to meet the demands of their social identities” (p.24). The habits of consumer, by contrast, are worn lightly, such the temporariness of engaging with a product is more important than the product itself. At the same time, the tradition of putting off want is preserved, and indeed becomes integral to the consumption process.
The consumer is a restless creature. He or she wanders from one piece of bait to the next, always seeking satisfaction, seduced and forever desiring seduction, until as mature consumers this restlessness becomes an inner compulsion making life any other life impossible, the ‘mature’ consumer exercising of free will. Free will and choice are thus contextualised within the consumer process. Before one can choose anything, one must be a consumer.
And here I am, still - the religious consumer, unable to adopt a solid, committed, religious position, because of the infinite choices of what constitutes a ‘Muslim’ and the many doubts which scurry fretfully around each. No wonder Salafism, with the clear vistas of its knowledge system and its rock solid orthopraxy is so beckoning to the disenchanted. There is a faith with firm lines drawn round it, and I have an overwhelming sense of being a man in its margins.
There is a place is Michael Ende’s Never-ending Story which is full of mad men. They had gone made because they were unable to find their muse, so they had made themselves their muse instead. How does one reconstruct the religious truth of Islam, which has been so roundly shattered by the madness of Wahhabi and Salafi dogma? Never mind going mad, I feel like giving up and going home.
I have considered several possibilities, now. One is to write a new commentary for the Qur’an. Drawbacks – no Arabic, no training in Quranic scholarship! The other is to focus on one teacher, but they are either distant (and have written surprisingly little) or, in the case of Muhaiyaddeen, dead.
Another is to focus on Muslim orthopraxy – primarily 'ibada and Sadaqa, which might transcend disputed textual-belief systems. But these are surprisingly vague areas. Ibada is given a surprisingly broad definition by Sardar and Malik (2004). The term Sadaqa is defined as ‘charitable giving in the cause of Allah’ by Bewley (1998), rather than charity in the broader sense.
The final thought – which is where madness beckons – is to write a treatise on religious thought. Literally, I would write ‘my own’ Islam. This is daring, vast, and probably as wild as any idea as I have ever come across. And in such a daring and desperate mood, I am going to resort to opening the Qur’an at random for an answer as to whether 'ibada and Sadaqa is the better idea! Bismillah…
“Verily, God knows the hidden reality of the heavens and the earth; and God sees all that you do.” Al-Qur’an: 49:18.
This ayat ends a surah which has much to say on the nature of Prophetic leadership, the transmission of truth, belief, practice and religious belonging. And that’s the thing, isn’t it. There is not one simple answer to my problem. I need to study every aspect of Islam and practice Ibada, too, not as someone alone, but as a Muslim and as a member of the human race.
Perhaps it would help, though, if I began each day by reading some Qur’an… and made my next book a text on the fundamental teachings of traditional Islam: Murata, S. and Chittick, W. C. (1996) The Vision of Islam (London: I.B. Tauris).
Much of what Bauman has to say is not new to me; rather, he draws on a range of successive and very interesting analyses – focusing on a number of social phenomena, from the implosion of the welfare state to the new ‘underclass’, to build a coherent and convincing picture of the consumer society. It’s interesting, but as this is something I intend to come back to and consider in more depth later on, I will stick to a close reading but without saying too much more about the book’s ideas.
Instead, I want to come back to the idea of belief. I have pondered for some time over the nature of my beliefs about Islam, but I have come to the conclusion that in matters of truth and religion, the idea of belief and unbelief are false dichotomies. Belief is varied in its strength, itself part of a spectrum of knowledge which ranges from the mere outward following of forms to hikma or irfan.
My own Muslim belief is based on a number of factors: I came, like many converts, seeking an ethical community. I can conceive of the existence of a deity through my experience of wonder at natural beauty. I also experience something profound, something linking me to the divine, within my own experience of consciousness. I also experience something unique, albeit mainly emotional, in reading the Qur’an – although at present it is a sense of sadness because there is an overwhelming sense that I am falling short of its guidance.
I understand my resistance – I have possessed a stronger sense of din than I do now, and with it came considerably more contentment and joy. But living within Islam is easy when times are good. I have learned when troubles stir - that is when I founder: anger stands in the way of prayer, irritation in the way of embracing the habit of salah, or a rebellion against some piece of insignificant dogma which clashes with the moment. Then my faith and belief buckles and, before now, I have cast aside all salah and all my soft-boned habits of piety in petulance and confusion.
Like learning Arabic, I find it a different place to return. It’s like gluing together a vase one has smashed out of spite. It is revisiting failure. It is exhausting, depressing. I feel self-loathing, and I feel helpless and effete in the face of possible reiterated failure. The commitment to salah and a proper exploration of my din requires a sense of resolution, and at the moment, the barrier to making that resolution is fear. I keep looking for excuses but I need to look this fear square in the face. I need courage. I need to take the risk.
The sense that this is my truth and destiny is beginning to overwhelm my life.
Bauman’s text has turned my head a few times – I have been impressed by exposition of the consumer society, his definition of ‘underclass’, his analysis linking consumerism to globalization and the emergence of the modern ‘garrison state’. Now he’s done it again – in his exposition of two sociological concepts, ‘norm’ and ‘order’.
Bauman begins his exposition of these concepts as a social liberal – drawing attention to the inevitable diversity of humanity. Indeed, it is this very erraticity that leads humans to long for order. The norm is “the projection of the model of order on human conduct” (Bauman, 2005, p.106), translating the model of order which sets limits on choices whereby some behaviours are privileged as ‘normal’ and some as ‘abnormal’. Within the latter category, Bauman further distinguishes between abnormality, and deviance - an extreme form of abnormality which results in penal or therapeutic intervention, claiming that the line between these is always contested within any society.
According to Bauman, the function of ‘order’ and ‘norm’ is to “…single out, circumscribe and stigmatize those parts of reality which are denied the right to exist, and destined for isolation, exile or extinction” (Bauman, 2005, p.107). Order performs this function more directly, where as norm acts indirectly, “…making the exclusion look more like self-marginalization” (ibid), such as exclusion on the basis of norms is more clearly attributed to the person rather than the society.
Bauman’s problem with this is that people may find themselves “…at the receiving end of forces they have been given no chance of resisting, let alone controlling” (ibid). Despite moral imperatives within society to ensure than the abnormal and deviant are humanely treated, there is always one group which have existed within societies which, although Bauman doesn’t state it categorically, are unfairly categorised as being amongst those who do not conform to the ‘norm’ – the poor.
Bauman goes on – I have not read further than this, though I suspect he will point out the moral imperative to assist the ‘underclass’ (a category of people many affluent folks in the global North view as a threat to 'order') is waning. But Bauman’s thesis poses all sorts of questions about social responsibility as a Muslim, not just towards the poor, but about what constitutes the Muslim ‘norm’ – indeed, Bauman points out that a conscious concern for ‘order’ and ‘norm’ “…signals, as a rule, that everything is as it should be and that things cannot be left in their present state” (Bauman, 2005, p.106).
All this has important consequences for what ‘becoming a Muslim’ means – what are the norms of a Muslim and how should one respond to those perceived as transcending those norms? Is there a need for a more compassionate approach to those who are evidently less pious and learned than exclusion and stigmatization, but which still aims to effect a change in the behaviour of others? Should the Shariah be concerned solely with deviance rather than abnormality, i.e. those things that genuinely threaten to disrupt society? Perhaps a more ‘fundamentalist’ Shariah represents a drive amongst Muslims to up the ante in regards to what is required by Muslims, to clarify ‘norms’ in a world where there is considerable social heterogeneity?
These are questions I shall ponder on in the coming weeks. They are about defining what it means to be a Muslim in the context of community, but they are also about defining that community – a concern which seems grandiose, but which I arrogantly find myself returning to again and again. Who I am to answer these questions, yet who else is asking them? In the hope of tempering this arrogance, I surmise the progressive Muslim declaration may provide more solid and humble ground for such reflections.
Bauman's alternative to consumerism
Material simplicity rather than consumer profligacy
An ethic of workmanship rather than 'the work ethic'
Income based on need rather than earning capacity
