As a fervent advocate of ethical consumerism, I seriously suggest that you consider flying long-haul, wearing Levi's and drinking coffee at Starbucks. The fact that no one else seems willing to give the same advice is a sad indictment of the ethical consumerism movement. For what should be one of the most important moral campaigns of our day has been hijacked by woolly-minded, anti-scientific eco-narcissists.
Ethical consumerism should be about using our purchasing power to make the world a better place. Instead, it is characterized by three almost religious convictions: that multinationals are inherently bad; that the "natural" and organic are inherently superior; and that science and technology are not to be trusted.
ILLUSTRATION: JUNE
Irrational prejudice against multinationals is connected to incoherent opposition to globalization. Anti-globalization campaigners seem blind to the irony that it was precisely the increased interconnectedness of peoples and trade characteristic of globalization that allowed their worldwide opposition movement to flourish.
The growth of multinationals is just one aspect of globalization, and the homogeneity it brings is regrettable. Even this can be overstated, however: no one would confuse Madrid's Puerta del Sol with Piccadilly Circus just because there were MacDonald's at both.
But the erosion of some national differences is neither entirely bad nor a burning ethical issue. And if you care about morality, the multinationals can be a force for good.
For instance, say you fancy a coffee in Italy. Go to a local cafe and the chances are the beans they grind have been bought at market prices from farmers who receive so little that they can barely make a living.
Go to Starbucks, however, and even if their "fair trade" brew isn't available that day, you can sip your latte in the knowledge that the company does have policies that improve the welfare of growers in the developing world. This isn't my opinion, but that of Sophie Tickell, senior policy adviser at Oxfam. Starbucks is a huge purchaser of coffee worldwide and should be lauded and encouraged to go further by ethical consumers. Instead, it is usually one of the first targets for anti-globalization protesters.
While the sins of multinationals are magnified, their better deeds are dismissed. Levi Strauss, for example, is a longtime member of the Ethical Trading Initiative (ETI), which requires adherence to a base code setting out a "minimum requirement for any corporate code of labour practice." It is true that the ETI is pretty toothless and members' records are far from perfect. But is it more ethical to buy from a smaller non-multinational that probably has no ethical standards at all?
If multinationals are the ethical consumers' betes noires, organic and GM-free food are their haloed heroes. For example, the magazine Ethical Consumer will automatically put a black mark against any company that supports or is involved in non-medical GM technology. But it is ludicrous to assume that all GM products are unethical.
Even if you are deeply skeptical of companies such as Monsanto, it is obvious that GM foods have the potential to improve yields and therefore the livelihoods of farmers in developing countries. This is not just corporate spin. Philip Stott, professor emeritus of biogeography at the University of London, spoke for many independent experts when he argued that "to deny GM technology to the developing world would be unforgivable."
Opposition to GM has little to do with real ethics and everything to do with eco-narcissism. It is not concern for others that fuels most of the growth in organic, GM-free food. It is a desire to keep ourselves pure, to avoid ingesting what we perceive to be harmful toxins. Never mind that there is nothing wrong with most non-organic foods: the feeling that we defile the inner sanctums of our bodies by eating food treated by pesticides is rooted in an almost religious, superstitious worship of the "natural." Dressing this up as an ethical choice is self-deception.
Connected to this is the deep mistrust of science which goes beyond reasonable suspicion. It's not just that we don't trust scientists or technology; we seem to feel that for any scientific fix there must be a price. Natural justice demands that cheaper, longer-lasting tomatoes come at a cost. Even the poor are not allowed to get richer, if it means using more technology. There is something almost puritanical in this, perhaps connected to the Protestant work ethic. No shortcuts to virtue are allowed.
I say all this not because I am opposed to ethical consumerism, but because I passionately believe in it. I do buy fair trade coffee.
I buy recycled and biodegradable goods. When I visited East Africa, I tried to make sure my trip benefited local people. I make an effort to buy clothes from companies that have at least some standards governing their suppliers' labor rights, even though realistically there are no businesses with excellent records on this, unless you want to look like a member of the Mamas and the Papas.
What I won't do is let these ethical choices be determined by prejudices which demonize big business and glorify nature so that I can feel pure and pious. Truly ethical consumerism requires a harder-headed look at what is in the interests of the world's poor. If that means ripping up the standard ethical consumer's checklist and starting again, so be it.
Julian Baggini is the editor of the UK-based Philosophers' Magazine.
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