Things always seem to come in ever increasing waves of crystallization – it seems like brains collect ideas, group random data, and link those pieces together. But there’s always some extra piece, like an encryption key or something like that, that prevents the whole idea structure from becoming a cohesive whole.

But then, BAM! The last piece is added, and there it is, a whole body of thought seems to spring from nowhere, like Proust’s madeleine or that philosopher who had a sudden realization when stepping on a bus. In literature, it seems like that could be called “theme.” In life, maybe you could call it coincidence, or maybe realization, since in life stuff feels more random and less crafted than in stories, even though our brains make us think there is causation even when there isn’t any. Hey, it’s cool, it’s hard to fight that feeling. It’s, like, evolution, baby.

Anyway, the thing I want to talk about today built like what I’m talking about above – a list of seemingly random things my brain was doing without my knowledge or consent, before presenting it to me as a constructed whole. I don’t know exactly when it started, but I know the first time I really thought or talked about it:
I was at a local coffee shop about two years ago in Des Moines, near Drake University, called the Mars Café. I was there for my brother’s college graduation party and while I was there, I learned that the guy who was running the place, one of the managers, was one of my brother’s high school buddies.

I’d been thinking a lot about coffee at that time, as well as wine and beer. In the last few years in America (probably more than that on the coasts, but culture is slower in Iowa) people are suddenly taking a great interest in cultivating a taste in beverages. People know about different types of coffee preparation, what the adjective “woody” means when you’re talking about wine, and the difference between a micro-brewery and a mega-brewery. This is a quick simplification, but you know what I’m talking about. They are become connoisseurs.

I’d been thinking about that, wondering about the social implications of the thing, but I hadn’t been able to put any words to how I felt about it. If you’ve read more than one post on my site, you know that I’m big into figuring out what I feel about things and how things work. Sure, it’s a little narcissistic, but any free time usage is, if you slip down the slippery slope too far.

So, when I had the chance, I pulled my brother’s buddy aside to talk to him. He’s big on French pressed coffee, free trade grounds, organic stuff, the RIGHT way to make tea, and stuff like that. So I figured, since he dealt with people and tried to teach them about beverages every day, that he would be a good guy to ply with questions about the social effect of people caring about beverages.

So I asked him, “Do you think people caring about silly little things like coffee preparation is changing people to become discerning about other consumer products?”
There’s this bit in the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis about a concept Screwtape defines as the “All I want” idea. (“All she wants is a cup of tea properly made, or an egg properly boiled.” – Screwtape Letter 17.) The idea is that people who have very specific tastes are perverted somehow, because they won’t accept other variations of what they want.

The reasoning behind why this becomes a personality perversion is that the item the person wants is very specific, but probably also small. The person who wants a beer, but any beer won’t do. Only a Boulevard Wheat Ale will do. Since Boulevard Wheat Ale is relatively inexpensive (it’s not Kristal champagne or anything), the person thinks that being specific about the type of beer is okay.

And it is okay, until the mental jump happens, the perversion, that makes the person feel justified for their specific wants, because what they want is “only” a specific inexpensive beer. But anything else won’t do. The person thinks that because their specific want is seemingly small, that it’s okay to be so specific about it.
You get the idea, I think. My concern is that by “educating” people about coffee, you’re teaching them to become “All I want” consumers. For coffee, wine, beer, and other things like that, it’s probably not a big deal. I’m not the guy who stands on the soapbox and yells about Starbucks ruining America singlehandedly.

However, what I am concerned about it that people who begin to become discerning think that their discerning-ness(?) makes them cultured and intelligent. They feel like they are making informed choices. I’m concerned that connoisseur-ism is becoming seen as a moral good, or worst, a right. My concern is that cultivating a discerning attitude in one area of your life makes it easier to become discerning in other areas. Kind of like learning one foreign language makes it easier to learn a second foreign language. You learn how to learn.

The worst implication of this, however, is that it separates reasonable, scientific, and logical intellectualism from what I would call “knowledge of taste.” It lumps the mathematical genius of Alan Turing into the same boat as some guy who can tell you exactly what a 1947 cabernet sauvignon from the south of France tastes like and why it’s better than a 1951, but not as good as a 1963 (obviously, I know jack about wine, so this is a made-up, silly example, but you get the idea.)

Anyway, to get back to the setting of this conversation, my brother’s friend didn’t really know what I was talking about. It’s possible he’d never considered it, but he’s a smart guy, so I doubt that. It’s more likely that I wasn’t able to get across what the hell I was trying to say. (I hope I’ve done a better job here.) We talked for a bit and I left him alone.

But the idea stayed with me. So add to this crystallization a second thing, a documentary I was watching on Hulu last night about corporations and their effects on our lives. The film is pretty over the top – it comes from the Michael Moore line of fear-mongering edu-tainment (hell, Michael Moore was even in the film), but Noam Chomsky was also in it, which redeemed it for me. And he said exactly what I’d been trying to voice when talking to my brother’s friend, but he took it to a new level of paranoia.

His point (paraphrased) basically was that corporations were manufacturing a brand, an idea, in people’s minds, and teaching them to care about it. He said that creating “All I want” type consumers was one of the highest goals, because not only does it make people keep buying stuff, but it also creates people who care deeply about what they buy. It develops products into fetishes because it gives people emotions connected with specific brands and specific products. It makes them care about things that don’t really matter, things that are just personal preferences, except the preferences aren’t personal. They are manufactured knowingly to sell stuff. That’s his idea, as I understand it.

I’m not sure that I buy into all that, because it seems a little far-fetched. I tend to turn everything into a huge idea, if only because I like a good, exciting story, but sometimes you have to step back and analyze the kool-aid you’re chugging down by the mouthful. But I still like a good conspiracy theory as much as the next man. Well, maybe even more than the next man.

So what’s in the juice here? Poison or sugar? Is there anything substantial to this? And if it is true, whether there are nefarious shadowy marketing executives behind it or not – what are the effects of a group of people who develop “discerning” tastes for specific things and become connoisseurs? Is there a deeper concern than someone getting pissed because their latte wasn’t made right? What implications does this concept have for our society? Where does that move us into the future?

I don’t know and I’d like to know.