Cultures of Consumption
Working Paper Series
Civilising Markets: Traditions of Consumer Politics in Twentieth-Century Britain, Japan, and the United States
In Markets in Historical Contexts, eds Mark Bevir and Frank Trentmann (CUP, Dec. 2003)
Dr Frank Trentmann, Birkbeck College, London
and Professor Patricia Maclachlan, University of Texas, Austin
Nothing in this paper may be cited, quoted or summarised or reproduced without permission of the author(s)
Markets in Contexts, eds. Mark Bevir and Frank Trentmann (forthcoming Cambridge University Press)
Civilising Markets: Traditions of Consumer Politics in Twentieth-Century Britain, Japan, and the United States*
Patricia Maclachlan and Frank Trentmann
At the turn of the twenty-first century, consumers and politics stand in a paradoxical relationship. Never before have consumers in advanced economies had it so good. According to the proponents of more open and competitive global markets, consumers have been the principal beneficiaries of deregulation and trade liberalisation in the 1980s and 1990s. At the same time, there has been a wave of consumer protests at international summits and in local politics against the democratic, economic, and ethical costs of globalisation. How should we explain this paradox?
One school of thought views the recent consumer protests as a reaction to the global processes of capitalist branding and production1 --processes that created the very communicative and cultural openings for the development of a critical global consumer movement. This account is a good social movement story, popular with the critics of trade liberalisation, but it is marred by a number of conceptual and empirical problems. First, by treating the recent wave of consumer activism in isolation from the network of national and international consumer movements and their ideological evolution in the twentieth century, the globalisation narrative ignores the persistence of different traditions of consumer politics. Just as deregulatory processes have diverged across countries, so, too, have the ideological definitions and political uses of ‘the consumer’. Second, the narrative helps explain how consumer movements arise in response to changes in the political economy, yet fails to explore how the movements themselves have contributed to the structure and dynamics of political economies. Finally, the globalisation perspective pays too much attention to the institutional foundations of consumer-related policies and neglects the myriad ways in which ideology shapes the nature of ‘consumption’ in different societies and locates and legitimizes the position of the ‘consumer’ in relation to the state, civil society, and the market.
In contrast to political scientists who have turned to institutional or legal structures to explain cross-national differences in consumer politics and policy,2 our discussion seeks a more historically informed understanding of the different ideological traditions that shaped the formation of organised consumer groups and definitions of consumers’ interests. This chapter will explore the evolution of these traditions in twentieth-century Great Britain, the United States, and Japan, where consumers have banded together to civilise capitalism in very different ways. Our aim is to reinsert the role of traditions and beliefs into studies of consumer politics as a way of understanding the ideas and norms informing policy-making and its institutional practices. What states and other institutions do for consumers is partly determined by what organised consumers define as their needs, rights, and responsibilities and by what they see as the legitimate agencies of reform. Institutions are not idea-free containers. How consumers define themselves over time and are defined by others matters. Far from being new or surprising reactions to globalisation, the current wave of international consumer protests, we argue, needs be reconnected to the historical evolution of nationally specific forms of consumer movements and ideas about the rightful place of the consumer in relation to the state, civil society, and the market.
The Ideological Foundations of Consumer Politics at the Turn of the Twentieth Century
Consumers emerged as more vocal and demanding actors in many parts of the globe at the turn of the twentieth century, as the terrain of politics broadened into new mass and street politics. Consumption became politicised as mass parties competed for electoral support and new expectations of rights – ranging from political to economic to maternal rights -- energised ‘subjects’ to think of themselves as ‘citizen-consumers’. The range of consumer activism is impressive, from the American meat boycotts of the early 1900s to the protests of German voters against high prices in Wilhelmine Germany.3 The conditions of scarcity during the second half of World War I generated even higher levels of agitation and violence, from the street struggles of Barcelona and Berlin in 1918 to the mass demonstrations against profiteering and the increasing cost of living in cities from Melbourne to London.4 These protests were by no means simple variations on the older food riot; to the contrary, they symbolized the new politicisation of consumption that had begun by the turn of the twentieth century. The political meanings of consumption, as well as the political ambitions of consumers, however, diverged significantly according to the distinctive ideas and beliefs in different societies.
While elsewhere protestors sought to move consumption from the margins to the centre of political discourse by resorting to boycotts, demonstrations or electoral pressure, in Edwardian Britain consumption was at the centre of popular politics and the Liberal governments’ policy of unilateral free trade. The successful defence of free trade in the elections of 1906 and 1910 rested in part on the co-operative movement and the Women’s Co-operative Guild, the largest social movement and the largest independent women’s organisation at the time.5 The politicisation of consumption was aided by radical, liberal, and conservative free trade bodies that turned to new techniques of political communication, extending the political world of leaflets and speeches, to demonstrations in sea-side resorts, nocturnal slide-shows, travelling exhibitions and shop-window displays that contrasted the cheap prices of commodities under free trade with the higher prices of protectionist Germany. Free trade culture marginalized other traditions of consumer politics, such as the socialist consumerism of the suffragette Teresa Billington-Greig, who attacked non-working consumers for exploiting and corrupting the true interests of consumers.6 Where consumption became connected to citizenship, as in the writings of the progressive J.A. Hobson, this mainly occurred within the framework of free trade – a connection that would come under stress during World War I.
The strong affinity between consumer politics and free trade at the level of ideas and social movements privileged a view of ‘consumption’ and consumer interests that turned to civil society rather than the state for protection, redress, and representation. At the same time that consumers’ interests were identified with cheap prices, those interests derived a moral and political legitimacy by being imagined as organic and unitary. Consumer interests were not represented as diverse, pluralistic, or even opposed to those of businesses, as is common amongst many contemporary consumer advocates. Rather, free traders appealed to the public interest of consumers, a collective interest shared by housewives (cheap food) and industrial consumers (cheap raw materials).7 Free Trade consumer politics here developed and amplified the emerging association between a consumer interest and the public interest that can already be found among water and gas users who organised municipal consumer protests in the late Victorian period.8 By 1903, in its defense of free trade, the Treasury asserted unequivocally that ‘the consumer… is the whole nation’.9
If the close identification between free trade and the national interest, provided one pillar of support for this organic consumer politics, the other pillar was the prevailing vision of civil society.10 For just as free trade fed the collective interests of consumers in a material sense, so, too, was it believed to nurture the civic sensibilities of consumer-citizens. Co-operators pictured the repeal of the protectionist corn laws (1846) as the starting point of the history of self-governing associations. Radical women’s groups and progressive politicians saw in free trade a favourable setting for training citizens, making people more aware of the ethical and social motivations and consequences of purchasing decisions, and preparing them for full citizenship in democratic associations like the Women’s Co-operative Guild (WCG).11 In the context of the rapidly advancing commercialisation of public and private life, the importance of this civic vision cannot be overestimated, for it allowed Liberals and Radicals to distance themselves from the charge of promoting materialist individualism. In free trade politics, consumption as the right to cheap food was discursively divorced from consumption more generally, and thus also from the pathologies associated with its hedonistic, selfish, addictive or conspicuous forms found abroad. As Lloyd George, the Chancellor of Exchequer, kept telling Edwardian audiences, it was protectionism (not free trade) that promoted a materialistic culture utterly alien to civic, God-fearing Britons: ‘I am confident that Tariff Reform means Socialism…Not the Christian Socialism of a few enthusiastic Englishmen, but the godless Socialism of Continental materialism.’12
Consumer politics, in short, relied on market forces that would in turn be civilised by a self-regulating civil society. In contrast to many European societies at the time, the political space for anti-semitic, corporate attacks and state policies directed at institutions of consumer society like the department store was circumscribed.13 But while British consumers may have benefited from marginally lower food prices than consumers burdened by protectionist duties elsewhere, free trade culture also bracketed a wide range of other consumer issues and reform instruments. The emphasis on cheapness as a benchmark of consumer satisfaction hampered discussions of product quality, consumer-related information, and the consequences of unregulated trade for employment, labour conditions, and public health. As the international food and commodity chain became longer, it was unclear how the ethical sensibilities of the British consumer would exercise their positive influence on ever more distant and fragmented processes of production and trade and weave the promised web of peace and harmony around the globe.14 The adherence to unilateral free trade went hand in hand with a deep-seated respect for national sovereignty that made it impossible to use the unique power of the British market to press for improved social conditions for workers abroad. At home, the fantasy of a self-regulating competitive market left consumers without safeguards against monopolistic competition such as price-fixing. Free traders portrayed trusts and cartels as alien creatures of foreign protectionism, a simplifying equation that retarded competition policy in Britain.15
The triumphant vision of consumers civilising capitalism from within an expanding – but distinctly national -- civil society masked a larger distrust of an active state. Free trade was seen to strengthen the institutions of liberal democracy precisely by sheltering the political system from the power of special interests. In this view, although the House of Commons, which voted on taxation, could be heralded for offering a virtual representation to all consumers -- those with and without the vote – there was no space here for a special representation of consumer interests. For many co-operators, the very act of granting the state regulatory powers over the food trade ran the unacceptable risk of concentrating power in the hands of elected officials who might become the enemies of consumers. Municipal controls over milk or coal, argued Honora Enfield of the WCG in 1920, were a bad idea not only because they might hurt the co-operative business, but also because there was no way to ensure that municipal governments would keep an eye on prices, product quality and distribution processes or prevent controls from falling into the hands of selfish capitalists during labour disputes.16
The emphasis on cheapness and self-regulation in the free trade culture hindered the introduction of protective regulatory measures for consumers at a time when new forms of mass production and retailing were putting consumers increasingly at risk. As a result, consumers lacked adequate representation both within the state and on the street, while health, safety and other regulatory measures were comparatively backwards. On the eve of World War I, for example, many American cities had already introduced milk safety standards and pasteurisation, but it was still legal to sell tubercular milk in Britain. The Sale of Food and Drugs Act (1875) – the basis of British food law until after World War II -- focused on weeding out fraud rather than solving pollution problems or improving general standards of public health. The mutually reinforcing image of an organic consumer interest as the public interest and of a neutral state disadvantaged the development of administrative thinking about specific consumer problems. Food reform, an area of increasing significance to consumer groups concerned about public-health risks, lacked the ideological and administrative support within the state.17 British consumers might have gained access to cheap food, but their distrust of the state and narrow definition of cost meant that the ‘cheap loaf’ distracted them from a host of more direct forms of consumer protection and regulation.
British consumer politics in late nineteenth and early twentieth century Britain, then, presents us with an interesting paradox: nowhere was consumption more central to political culture and social mobilization, and yet there were few legal, institutional, or policy-oriented measures to protect consumers. The intense significance of consumer politics correlated with the very narrow definition of what counted as consumption in mass politics, namely, access to essential foodstuffs or ‘necessaries’. The way in which the political meaning of consumption was thus defined was far from natural. The standard of living in Edwardian Britain exceeded that of other European societies, which failed to produce the same consumer politics. Many Edwardian Liberals and Radicals participated in an expanding world of consumption, ranging from tourism and pension policies to cultural entertainment and new technologies. The free trade tradition blended out this diverse set of consumer issues and interests. Put differently, in Britain free trade consumer politics privileged a generic image of the consumer as someone primarily interested in cheap foodstuffs, masking politically explosive questions about the competing interests and identities of consumers with competing value systems and life styles, among as well as between classes.18 The ideological framing of consumption in free trade culture, then, points to a remarkable contradiction in Britain at the turn of the twentieth century: at the very time that consumer culture was expanding and diversifying its goods, services, spaces, and aesthetics, consumer politics was contracting around the essentials of life.
In the United States, consumption also emerged as an increasingly sensitive issue in popular politics at the turn of twentieth century. However, consumer activism failed to produce a coherent discursive and socio-political alliance that could rival that of hegemonic free trade in Britain. There was certainly plenty of evidence of consumer activism during this period. Consumers organized boycotts against the high price of meat in 1902, protested rent levels in 1904 and 1907-08, pressed for accurate weights and measures, and took to the streets against the rising cost of living in 1917. They established a number of advocacy groups, including the National Consumers’ League (NCL, 1899), the National Anti-Food Trust League (1909), and the Housewives League (1911) of New York. Their efforts to politicise consumption, however, were often stymied by an alliance of business groups and Southern Democrats that came to dominate the legislative process in Congress. Though not supporters of free trade as such, this alliance was also wary of any form of regulatory controls over the affairs of free enterprise. Consequently, while Congress and the White House were willing to pass legislation like the 1906 meat inspection and pure food and drug acts to correct the more egregious affronts to consumer interests, consumer protection was primarily achieved indirectly through competition policy – policy that benefited business as much as, if not more than, consumers.
U.S. consumer groups in the early twentieth century had a number of distinctive beliefs, the most significant of which was a close affinity with the ideas and objectives of the labour movement. Consumer interests were rarely separated from producer interests. As wage labour expanded, ‘the living wage’ became increasingly important to the workers’ sense of citizenship.19 Indeed, the dominant consumer organizations focused far more on improving wage levels and working conditions than on lowering prices, expanding choice, or improving the conditions of purchase. The National Consumers’ League led by Florence Kelley saw purchasing power as leverage in the battle for improved labour conditions, especially of women and children. To promote ‘ethical consumption,’ the NCL distributed ‘white lists’ of shops and producers that adhered to proper labour and production standards. The burden of improving the conditions of work, meanwhile, lay with the nation’s housewives. In many cases, consumer activism was influenced by socialist ideology. Activists like Kelley, who joined Eugene Debs’ Socialist Party, were inspired by the tradition of evolutionary socialism that sought to gradually strengthen trade unions and reduce the capitalists’ appropriation of surplus value from workers.20
Whereas the free trade tradition in Britain privileged ‘cheapness’ and in general accepted that the poor working conditions surrounding the production of sweated goods were problems best solved by producing nations, the NCL directly confronted the relationship between cheapness and labour standards and prioritized the latter in its activism.21 Consumers were not only partly responsible for solving some of the problems shouldered by the nation’s workers: they were also the source of those problems. As Josephine Shaw Lowell proclaimed in 1925,‘[t]he responsibility for some of the worst evils from which producers suffer rests with the consumers, who seek the cheapest markets regardless of how cheapness is brought about’.22 In contrast to Britain, then, the centre of the American tradition of ethical consumption lay ultimately in the world of production, rather than consumption.
The tradition of individual rights was a second, distinct source of American consumer activism, a legal-political orientation that was reinforced by the role of the legal system as a significant point of political access for social movements in the United States. The NCL worked closely with Louis Brandeis during the pre-war years in a progressive alliance for protective labour legislation. The historic affinity between the language of rights and questions of consumption – a connection that can be traced back to the war of independence23– also provided a bridgehead for new battles over civil rights. In the late 1920s and 1930s, the NCL linked the campaign for ethical consumption and labour legislation to that against racial discrimination and political authoritarianism in the South: the racial division of the South constituted both a denial of black rights and, by exercising a downward pressure on wages, a threat to the social rights of whites to a decent wage.24
The social and civic discourse informing consumer politics in the United States in the early twentieth century thus encouraged images of the consumer that moved beyond those of free trade Britain. While women played an equally decisive role in both movements at both the leadership and grassroots levels, the Consumers’ League in America quickly developed a view of the ‘consumer’ that was much more than the British image of the purchaser of the ‘cheap loaf’ and other necessaries. Initially, the NCL’s image of consumers was that of women as disinterested agents of the public interest, a trope that can be traced to eighteenth-century ideas of sympathetic femininity in which women, thanks to their supposed distance from the corrupting world of commerce, claimed to speak on behalf of humanity in consumer boycotts of slave products.25 By the inter-war years, the campaign for racial justice and labour legislation complicated this gendered tradition and legitimized the right to consume of Southern black men. Given the NCL’s attention to the conditions of labour and production, it is not surprising that its focus on goods extended beyond the free trade fixation on basic foodstuffs. Much of the early NCL activism targeted middle-class women and understood itself as an experiment in applied economics that would reveal the centrality of the consumer to the economy at large, a generic approach that also found its way into the writings of economists, including Simon Patten’s New Basis of Civilization (1907).26 For the NCL, the consumer was the purchaser of a potentially infinite range of commodities: ‘“Every person who buys anything, from a bun to a yacht, is a consumer.’”27 Here was a socially open and flexible framing of consumption as a dynamic relationship between users and producers connected through a potentially infinite world of goods. And this view would facilitate the consumer movements’ embrace of social Keynesianism during the 1930s and ‘40s, which aimed to raise the purchasing power and comfort of the American people.
In contrast to the United States and Britain, consumption in pre-war Japan failed to develop into a legitimate sphere of human activity. From the late 1860s until the end of World War II, as the Japanese poured their collective energies into rapid economic modernization and imperial expansionism, consumers were encouraged not to consume but to save –to contribute to the resource base of an expanding economic and military infrastructure. Purchasing and consuming goods and services, meanwhile, were portrayed as highly self-centred acts that did virtually nothing to advance the interests of the nation. This was nowhere more apparent than in one of the more oft-quoted slogans of the era: “Luxury is the enemy!’28
Against this backdrop, popular mobilization in support of consumer-related objectives was viewed as nothing less than radical. During the 1910s and 1920s, a period of significant – albeit limited -- democratic experimentation, a small consumer cooperative movement arose in close affiliation with the Christian socialist, communist, and labour movements. This motley association of political fringe groups opposed the growth of large corporations and their close ties to government, the widening gap between rich and poor, and a host of other problems attributed to tightening state control over the population. The co-ops, for their own part, emphasized labour rights, gender equality, and the Rochdale pioneers’ principles of open membership and democratic control. Partly as a result of these cultural and political constraints, the co-ops failed to contribute to an enduring “mass politics” that would energize and empower consumers; nor, for that matter, did they contribute to meaningful public discussions of the relationship between democratic principles and consumption.
The negative connotations surrounding ‘consumption’ had deep cultural origins. Although consumption in the West had also been imbued with negative overtones in the past,29 the concept suffered from a particularly negative image in Japan. Part of the problem was the very makeup of the term ‘consumption’ (shôhi): shô means‘to extinguish’ and hi connotes ‘waste’. At a time of rapid industrialization, the socially accepted role of consumers was to contribute to the national resource base for future economic expansion by saving, rather than spending. Thus, it should come as no surprise that the coop leaders often encountered resistance from ordinary Japanese when trying to recruit them into ‘consumer cooperatives’ (shôhisha kumiai).30 Who, after all, would want to be openly associated with the self-seeking and non-productive activities of ‘consumers’ (shôhisha, lit., one who extinguishes and wastes), particularly during the 1930s when self-sacrifice in support of the ‘national polity’ (kokutai) had become a carefully-cultivated public virtue?
As Japan mobilized for total war, the increasingly authoritarian state forcibly disbanded the consumer cooperative movement along with all other social movements and interest groups that represented whatever semblance of a civil society that Japan may have had at the time. Consumers had become captured subjects of a pro-producer nation-state.
Consumer Politics in Transformation
Our discussion has distinguished among three dominant national traditions of consumer politics at the turn of the twentieth century: the radical-liberal tradition of free trade and civil society in Britain, the American tradition based on individual rights and progressive labourism, and the pro-labour but underdeveloped tradition of pre-democratic Japan. These national traditions were by no means fixed or self-perpetuating. As the next section will show, the inter-war years gave rise to new ideas about consumption –many of them the product of economic scarcity-- that were to shape consumer politics through the post-war periods of economic development and affluence.
If ‘cheapness’ had been the dominant watchword of British consumer politics under free trade, it became increasingly marginalized in response to a number of inter-related developments during and after World War I: increasing demand for stable supplies and improved public health, and the emergence of new ideas about consumer regulation in the public interest. Inflation and the scarcity of foodstuffs during 1916-19, followed by economic depression and mass unemployment, raised new questions about how to protect consumers against insecure supplies and business cycles, and how to balance the interests of consumers and producers. As critics of liberal markets emphasized, consumers did not necessarily gain in the long run from extreme cheapness. Price fluctuations, by harming investment, destabilising industrial relations and creating incentives for profiteering and special interest politics, hurt the interests of consumers, citizens, and producers alike.31 For many in the co-operative movement and the WCG the war highlighted the chaotic nature of markets and the need for state regulation of basic foodstuffs and raw materials. An advisory Consumers’ Council (1918-21) investigated high prices, distribution, and costs of production of essential foods, such as milk, and in the process sharpened a sense of the consumer interest and its claim on protection from the state against profiteers and cartels.32 The consumer interest, in this view, now lay with secure access to regular supplies of food at stable prices, rather than unregulated imports. In Britain, as on the continent, this concern with food security prompted Labour and social democrats to embrace state regulation as a way of reconciling the interests of consumers and producers.33 The plethora of proposals for import boards, long-term imperial contracts, purchasing controls, and ‘Buy British Campaigns’ during the inter-war years reflected this repositioning of the consumer within society and polity as someone whose interests and identities as a shopper and a housewife should be balanced against a concern for the conditions of producers--both domestic and imperial.34 If these proposals largely failed to transform policy in the Conservative-dominated inter-war years, they nonetheless left their mark on the earlier type of radical-liberal consumer politics: organised consumers increasingly looked to political institutions –rather than the market-- to provide the instruments of economic governance.
The rediscovery of political institutions added an important new international dimension to consumer politics. For the attention to market imperfections and cycles in international trade suggested not only the potential strengths of the state, but also its limitations as an agent of regulation. If freedom of trade had failed to safeguard consumers against trusts, monopolists and price-fixing, it was not clear that unilateral state action would fare any better against combinations of international capital, such as the American dominated meat trust. Here again, the free trade assumption that markets reconciled the interests of consumers and producers was discredited by the war. New internationalists campaigned (in vain) for a world economic council.35 The question of consumption acquired more generally a new salience in international politics in the 1930s, when ideas of coordinating consumption by regulating prices and imports became tied at the League of Nations to what was called ‘economic appeasement’: raising the level of consumption to overcome the depression and international economic friction.36 Consumption here is not to be confused with the Keynesian interest in the propensity to consume. While Keynesians developed the macroeconomic potential of consumption, they also rendered the substance of purchasing irrelevant by reducing consumption to little more than a demand function. The internationalism underlying ‘economic appeasement’, by contrast, was informed by a tight connection between public health and consumption.
Together, the twin demands of public health and stable, coordinated supplies broadened both the political targets and the self-understanding of the popular consumer movement. Co-operators’ demands for food rich in vitamins or milk unpolluted by tuberculosis helped shift the definition of the consumer interest from cheapness to access to nutritious food at reasonable prices. ‘Cost of living’ campaigns by Labour party women in the 1930s and 50s broadened the criteria of cost for consumers to include public health considerations as well as market prices. ‘Under-consumption’ thus acquired nutritional overtones that gave food and health policies the legitimacy to address broader social and macro-economic problems. Turning consumers into healthy citizens held out the additional prospect of saving farming communities from destitution during the 1930s. The public health connection between domestic and international concerns inserted a new sense of global obligation into British consumer activism that would articulate itself in ambitious demands for a world food council in the 1940s and 1950s. The universal language of nutrition could place the interests and duties of British consumers in the same political and analytic framework as those of non-European consumers. Even though British consumers might be better off than, say, their Nigerian or Greek counterparts, there was a shared human interest in overcoming vitamin deficiencies. Hunger became understood as a systemic global problem requiring the reform of global political economy, rather than national reforms or charitable responses to natural disasters. The Cooperative party was very self-conscious about the global change in perspective this entailed for ethical consumers in more privileged parts of the world: ‘Fifty years ago would anyone have thought about a WORLD food problem? When famine struck India, or the potato blight struck Ireland, other people heard of India’s or Ireland’s food problem. They were sympathetic and sent what help they could. But they didn’t think about a world food problem that the WORLD should do something about solving. The first step toward solving it has been taken when we talk about a world problem.’37
New concerns about public health, stable prices, and secure access transformed the general understanding of ‘consumers’, their nature, their interests, and the agencies best equipped to deal with them. One reason for the success of radical-liberal free trade, we have argued, had been its ability to place an unproblematic organic image of the consumer at the centre of Edwardian politics –an image that precluded discussions about the socio-cultural consequences of consumerism. Consumers were left to pursue their interests through the market: civil society, meanwhile, acted as a self-regulating agency that would foster civic virtues and behaviour. The debate about scarcities and nutrition, profiteering and trusts shattered underlying assumptions about the market, and, by doing so, opened a pandora’s box of questions about the nature of consumer demand and when and where it might be in the public interest to protect or regulate it.
As calls for consumer regulation intensified, so, too, did arguments about the extent of consumer rationality and the need for consumer education. First, there was a growing concern about ignorant, passive consumers eroding the spirit of democracy. ‘The consumer’, Harold Laski charged in 1928, ‘has done little or nothing to control his environment….He does not announce his wants; he waits for the profit-maker to discovery such of his wants as it is worth his while to supply. But since the quality of his citizenship largely depends upon what there is for him to consume, ignorance of his wants means… the absence of a civic context to this aspect of his life.’38 The future of citizenship depended increasingly on the state’s ability to satisfy demand, and that ability required the state to take a more active role in making demand more ‘articulate’ and ‘informed’. Second, questions of how to improve consumer rationality and information came to the fore in applied psychology. Rather than viewing consumers simply as instinctive automatons that responded passively to the signals of the advertising world, psychologists in inter-war Britain, like Frank Watts, began to develop a more complex view of consumers’ changing subjectivity in which advertisers carried the civilising mission of elevating consumer desires and interests.39 Third, public health discourse imposed new educational requirements on consumers. If one source of inadequate nutrition was poverty, a second, according to John Boyd Orr and the League of Nations Mixed Committee, was widespread ‘ignorance of food values or carelessness and indifference’.40 Consumers needed to be taught more intelligent habits. Finally, at the policy level, the model of consumption based on free trade and free markets was replaced with a technocratic model of consumer protection based on expanded information flows, education, and product-testing. Consumers, the progressive think-tank Political and Economic Planning (PEP) argued in the 1930s, did not automatically benefit from markets because they stood in an asymmetrical power relationship with big firms and lacked the knowledge to navigate the marketplace effectively. Overcoming this asymmetry of information would reorder consumer culture and make it more rational and scientific for the overall benefit of society. The rationale for consumer protection that would inspire the establishment of the Consumers’ Association in 1957 was born.41
In the United States during the inter-war years, the political meanings of consumption and the status of the consumer-as-citizen were extended and radicalised no less than in Great Britain. Both countries experienced a critique of free markets as the consumer’s best friend and the establishment of private product-testing organizations. What distinguished America was the duality of consumer politics. On the one hand, the private vision of consumer activism was concerned, perhaps even obsessed, with creating powerful independent consumers-- Davids who could battle the Goliaths of the corporate world of producers and advertisers. On the other hand, there emerged a collective vision of a consumers’ republic, in which consumers-as-citizens were connected through the state in a campaign to raise the purchasing power of the people. This was the consumer politics of the New Deal. These extremes clearly fed off each other, not least in their shared picture of the enemy -- the evil, unaccountable, price-fixing firm. Whereas in Britain the erosion of free trade deprived consumer politics of its centre and led to a proliferation of competing visions and ideas, in America there crystallised a new democratic politics of consumption in the New Deal in the 1930s. And whereas a good deal of progressive consumer activism in Britain focused on extending basic rights to health and nutrition to consumers, in America the ambition was to create nothing less than a self-sustaining mass consumer society in which all citizens could share in the comforts of the American way of life.
It was the positive embrace of mass consumption as the citizen’s passport to democracy that distinguished American trends in the inter-war years. Consumption was not only connected to civic qualities but now appeared to be a prerequisite of democratic life. ‘The consumer’ and ‘the citizen’ were increasingly paired in the same breath. Although organised consumer activism suffered setbacks as a result of the producer-oriented policies of the 1920s, several undercurrents prepared for a coalescence of the language of consumption (living cost, purchasing power, prices) and the language of democratic citizenship (rights, participation, representation) that would flow into the New Deal policies of the second half of the 1930s and early ‘40s. First, consumption became politicised from within business itself. Advertisers, for example, began to fuse political and commercial metaphors equating individuals’ acts of purchase with civic acts of voting. Political democracy, in this view, was built on a consumer democracy in which all citizens had access to goods. Admittedly, such ideas rested on highly elitist representations of the consumer that all but ignored the labouring masses.42 A more inclusive approach came from progressive businessmen like Edward Filene, the department store owner, and associated think-tanks like the Twentieth-Century Fund. Their campaigns in the 1920s for rationalising distribution and lowering prices looked forward to a market of mass-produced goods for all. For the working classes to become full citizens, they needed a ‘cultural wage’ enabling them to participate in consumer society.43 Such arguments were indicative of a broadening of the social groups invoked as ‘consumers’ that would facilitate collaboration between labour and consumer activists and democratic appeals to a ‘consuming public’. Thus, while the League for Independent Republican Action, a third party established in 1929, still looked to small merchants and white-collar workers as ‘ “ represent[ing] most adequately the interests of the consumer,”’44 New Dealers like Leon Henderson, the consumer adviser to the National Recovery Administration (NRA), imagined ‘ “farmers and laborers, that is consumers”’ when arguing for increased purchasing power as the lever of economic growth.45
The democratic broadening of the consumer constituency went hand in hand with a growing emphasis on the substantive contributions consumers needed to make to preserve democracy. Private consumer testing-organisations, like Consumers’ Research (1927) and its progressive break-away Consumers Union (1936), favoured remedies different from the redistributive policies and institutional reforms of the New Deal, but they all turned to the consumer as the potential saviour of democracy from the clutches of big business. For Chase and Schlink, the founders of Consumers’ Research, and popular sociologists like Robert and Helen Lynd, the authors of Middletown (1929), the helpless consumer was a symptom of the citizen’s loss of sovereignty. As Lynd noted, consumers were kept ‘economically illiterate’ by business and advertisers. They were bombarded with product choices, novelties, and styles that made them helpless slaves of profiteering producers. Your Money’s Worth, the title and motto of Chase and Schlinks’ bestseller in 1927, was not only meant to give consumers the goods and prices to which they were entitled but also to cultivate their sense of pride and independence as good republican citizens and, in the process, to redress the balance of power between citizens and oligopoly. Consumers’ Research fused a technocratic vision of expert-provided information, scientific product-testing, and planning with a republican vision of independent citizens.46
The New Deal developed a complementary institutional strategy of empowering citizen-consumers by resorting to state agencies to redress the power asymmetry in the marketplace. The idea of raising the consuming capacity of Americans to pull the economy out of the depression placed the twin political goals of fighting oligopoly and preserving democracy at the centre of the American state. Theories of under-consumption compelled reformers to look beyond the older programme of anti-trust policies as the primary mechanism for consumer protection. As the economist Leon Keyserling and Senator Robert Wagner argued, the state had to play an active role in tackling the disparity between wages and prices in order to correct the “failures” of consumer demand. Although producers came to dominate the National Recovery Administration, it is clear that even they supported the New Deal as means of redistributing income.
New Deal policies mobilised consumers and sharpened their sense of political and economic entitlement. The Federal Housing Administration, the Home Loan Corporation, and a number of other New Deal agencies expanded the consumer voice in national politics by advocating stronger consumer-protection measures, while others, like the Tennessee Valley Authority, became bastions of grassroots consumer activism.47 Partly to overcome the institutional power of producers, New Deal consumer advocates encouraged grassroots activism by asking consumers to report and protest against the high prices of such commodities as bread and meat. After America’s entry into the war, rationing and price controls were linked to state-sponsored popular campaigns in which consumers kept an eye on profiteering – a veritable ‘kitchen gestapo’ in the view of Republican and business critics. Consumers’ rights to redress were recognised and their exercise encouraged; consumers could now sue for being overcharged. By 1945, over two million women shoppers had reported price violations. The extent to which these actions increased purchasing power is debatable, but there is little doubt that New Deal policies broadened the public meaning of consumption and the sense of entitlement that came with it. The NRA’s Consumer Advisory Board (CAB) explicitly looked beyond the immediate act of purchase: ‘“[t]he consumers’ interest is not to be regarded as limited to the retail market for consumers’ goods….An adequate safeguarding of the consumers’ interest … calls for a complete check upon industrial processes from the raw material to the finished good and its distribution to the ultimate consumer.’”48 The principle of consumer protection offered a new leverage for groups fighting against discrimination in a variety of markets. African-American groups stressed that ‘“Negroes, too, are Consumers” and extended the logic of price controls in shops to the housing market where black renters faced discriminatory high prices.49 President Franklin D. Roosevelt, in his 1944 state of the union address, testified to this expanded sense of consumer entitlement when he called for an economic bill of rights. For the first time in American history, the consumer interest had been upheld by the state as a legitimate manifestation of the public interest.