I haven't talked about it here on the blog—I haven't talked about anything here in a couple months, come to think of it—but I've been regularly attending a local meeting of the Religious Society of Friends. Friends (aka Quakers) rather than focusing on theological creeds—right belief—place a higher premium on ethical practice—right relationship with the Other. Within Quakerism is the tradition of Testimonies, a commitment to testify not so much through one's words, but through one's actions in daily life.
Two common testimonies are simplicity and stewardship. And it was with my upcoming purchase in the back of my mind that I accidentally came across a quote about the the relationship between simplicity and stewardship:
To me, the concepts of "stewardship and "simplicity" have always seemed to closely related as to be identical: to practice one properly, it seems, one must always also practice the other. Nevertheless, there are differences. Simplicity deals with the ownership of property, stewardship with the use of it. Simplicity tells us to ask for no more than we need; stewardship reminds us that we need less if we take care of what we have... (William Ashworth)
Shortly after this quote the author of the anthology that contained it posed a query to the reader: "Do I look at my investments, clothing, furniture, and other possessions to see if they sow the seeds of war and oppression?" *
I was concerned with simplicity long before I became interested in Quakerism. That concern, however, has often been uneven, and expressed itself almost entirely through buying things on the cheap. Rahter than seeing simplicity and stewardship as natural bedmates I partnered simplicty with frugality. Though there's nothing wrong with saving money, making buying decisions based entirely on which choice will keep more money in my pocket seems now like a seductive form of mammonism. Take the tennis shoes for example. They were so cheap because,
- they were crappily made by
- people that were crappily paid
I realized after reading that quote and query that I had two choices. I could buy another cheap pair of shoes and in 7-months buy another, and 7-months after that another, and in in the process not only squander precious material resources, but prop up a company that pays it workers in pennies and in the past has abused the rights of its workers. Or I could spend more money up front to buy a better made product that, by virtue of its durability, would spare resources.
There are a lot of eco/human rights friendly products out there. The trouble is that most of them just aren't affordable for someone solidly in a working class income bracket. But I'm wondering now if the genuine response, rather than bargain hunting or throwing my hands up in defeat, shouldn't involve accepting the fact that paying for better constructed, more fairly begotten products neccessarily means having a lot less overall.
Refusing to face moral complexity can be a form of running away, or refusing to face the necessarily unpleasant consequences of the values we adopt. It can amount to an attempt to avoid our personal Gethsemane. —John Pushnon
*All quotes come from Catherine Whitmire's Plain Living: A Quaker Path to Simplicity
