I just returned from helping someone move. This is third move I've been involved in within the last two years. Especially as I age, I find the process of helping others with their stuff harder to manage and at the same time, I'm challenged to evaluate my own level of stuff. So I have been thinking a lot about stuff. Stuff, stuff, stuff. Our waterways are clogging with broken plastics, our spaces capturing mountains of discarded stuff, under freeway overpasses and open fields, the evidence of the problem is everywhere. STUFF is everywhere.
Back in December of 2007, Annie Leonard released the film: The Story of Stuff.
This movie is self-described as:
"a 20-minute, fast-paced, fact-filled look at the underside of our production and consumption patterns. The Story of Stuff exposes the connections between a huge number of environmental and social issues, and calls us together to create a more sustainable and just world. It’ll teach you something, it’ll make you laugh, and it just may change the way you look at all the stuff in your life forever."
For me, this film did just that. After viewing it, I began to take a critical look at stuff in general and my stuff in particular. When I bought something, I tried to buy stuff that would last, to take care of it so it would last, to repair it if I could and replace only what was necessary. Still, I've live in one place long enough that stuff creeped in. It seems to have a way of filling the available space. So, I cannot judge anyone else--I am just as susceptible as anyone, owning more than I need, contributing my own chapter in the story of stuff.
In one of the above household moves, the individual was forced to move due to a job loss and the inability to make rent. Sadly, she had no savings. Instead, her money was frozen in stuff. And no one else wanted to convert her stuff to cash. So she lost her place, trading a savings cushion for... you guessed it: stuff.
She is obviously not alone. When The Story of Stuff film was made, Amazon revenues were just shy of $15 Billion that year. By 2022, just fifteen years later, Amazon's revenues had ballooned exponentially to $514 Billion, the firm's revenue doubling every three years until today when almost 38% of every retail sale made in the world is on Amazon.com. And it's not just that we are buying things on Amazon that we would have purchased locally (though we do), but we are buying more. A lot more. We own at least two times more than we did fifty years ago.
It was harder to buy stuff then. You needed to either order from a paper catalog --filling out an actual paper form--or travel to a store. Today, it's point and click! It's just so easy to buy stuff isn't it? And tech is evolving to make it even easier. See something you like? Take a photo using Google Lens--and up pops identical items. Click BUY and in a few days it arrives at your doorstep. In some places, drones deliver to your exact location.
I won't go into the shocking statistics of what we spend, what we own, what we store, and what we cannot do because of this. Let’s just say that our collective level of purchase and accumulation feels pathological. if you are curious, you can check out a few of the stats here: https://www.becomingminimalist.com/clutter-stats/
Whatever the cause of our compulsion to purchase and accumulate, buying stuff is now a nearly automated form of planetary destruction. I say "nearly" because a human being, more often than not, chooses to click that button--though even some of these decisions are automated now.
What's not automated is what happens to the stuff after we buy it. I'm not exaggerating when I assert this: too much stuff destroys relationships and lives.
We use a lot of our stuff, I suppose. We try to find a place for it. We fill our homes and mini-storage units with it (in my case, the garage shelves). We break it, sometimes shockingly fast. We move it. I've spent countless hours helping friends and family deal with their stuff--hauling items to the thrift store or the landfill, sorting stacking, boxing, and hauling. In some cases, they found themselves still buying stuff on Amazon (point and click!) and receiving packages even as we packed boxes destined for their storage unit. During life transitions, stuff grew to be a massive burden: impacting time and money, and even freedom.
What is going on here? Why are humans compelled to run up their credit card bills only to buy things that end up on the yard sale table, the storage unit, or at the dump months later? It's not that we want to clutter our homes or spend money instead of saving. Nor is it just ease and convenience of the purchase. The problem feels deeper and more insidious than that.
Thanks to technology algorithms, and psychologically targeted advertising, click-baity ads, "fear of missing out" (FOMO), and a severe inability to self-reflect in the face of such manipulation, we click that BUY button again and again. To me, it feels like a soul-sucking manipulation. Or possibly an extreme mass-addiction. Or both. Meanwhile, savings rates are at an all time low, as is charitable giving--unless you count the giving of "stuff" to thrift stores, now THAT is at an all time high
The answer? Clearly we must avoid being manipulated into buying things we do not need. This means understanding WHY we buy and finding ways to interject reflection, values, and construct barriers to impulse purchasing. I'd love to hear your ideas. Here are a few of mine:
Set savings and tithing goals.
Get off all screens and go outside more.
Connect with people instead of buying.
Commit to decluttering as a spiritual practice.
Pause and reflect before buying. For example, before clicking the button to purchase anything ask these questions:
Is this a need or a want? (If a want, wait a few days or better yet, don't buy at all.)
Where will I store this item?
What must I give up to have it? (Is owning this more important that saving the money for [insert above goal here].)
Is the item of high quality? (i.e. will it last? Or will it end up in the landfill?)
Finally, consider applying the Frog Doctrine. Is what we are about to do good for the frogs on Planet Earth?
In the past two decades, humans have, through technology and modern production, found a way to amplify and automate destructive human behavior. No doubt, wildlife and wild places bear the greatest weight of this problem. This is a human cultural problem, and at it’s heart a crisis of the human spirit.
The bottomline is this: stuff is cheap and easy to buy, but the unintended consequences of doing so are much greater than any of us can imagine.
More resources on this topic:
https://www.becomingminimalist.com/what-is-minimalism/