This post went out to subscribers to my Substack newsletter on May 1, 2023. Check out all the posts, including ones from the archives not reposted here, and subscribe here.
Early popular music products in the form of 16th-century ballads, for sale for a penny or two. Images courtesy of the Huntington Library, whose collection includes about 600 16th- and 17th-century broadside ballads. To see a larger version, click here.
In his 1998 book, The Economy of Obligation historian Craig Muldrew examines the expansion of what he calls “marketing” in Elizabethan England. By this term he means the specialized commercial relations we now take for granted: “the way in which goods were bought and sold, and moved around by traders, wholesalers and other middlemen, and how credit was used to facilitate such exchange and create wealth generated through profit.” Over a relatively short period, England went from an economy dominated by household production and direct selling by local farmers and craftsmen to a more complex and extended commercial order.
Goods like coal, soap, iron, and textiles traveled around the country, becoming much more readily available to ordinary people outside London. In the Norfolk town of King’s Lynn, for example, the amount of soap imported from London more than tripled from 1566 (when Shakespeare was a two-year-old) to 1586. The economic expansion included entertainment as well. Alehouses boomed, as did consumption of beer, formerly a luxury. A popular music industry began, with 3 million to 4 million printed ballads sold for a penny or two each in the late 16th century. Foreign goods like sugar, currants, lemons, and peppercorns became more common. In 1581, Muldrew reports, “21,000 oranges and lemons reached Norwich in time for [London’s] Bartholomew Fair.”
In what has been called the “great rebuilding” of rural England, homes installed glass windows, plaster ceilings, and, most important, fireplaces with chimneys. Many added rooms, along with more and better furniture and kitchen tools. “Such improvements,” Muldrew observes, “mean there must have been a concurrent growth in the market for the services of carpenters, glaziers and bricklayers, and in the sale of material manufactures for such rebuilding and furnishing.”
Muldrew combs through probate inventories, counting the number of items listed to find out just how much stuff people owned. Here’s an example, showing the average numbers of goods (not including clothing) per household in Chesterfield. The numbers are small, but the percentage increase is significant.
Even poor people had more goods than their ancestors. Farmers exchanged straw for feather beds and wooden plates for pewter. William Barat, a mariner, died with goods worth a paltry £2 4s, while owing £6 9s. “He had just one hearth in the kitchen and most of his possessions consisted of old things of little value,” Muldrew writes, “but he still possessed a number of inexpensive ‘luxury’ goods including satin towels, hangings in the hall, pewter flower pots, valences for his bed and painted cloth.” The better-off Richard Rastryck, a Southampton porter,1 left £10 worth of household goods in 1575, suggesting a modest standard of living. Nevertheless, writes Muldrew, “there were over 225 items in a five-room house with two hearths. These included three flock beds, six feather pillows, four spice plates, a number of pieces of pewter, five silver rings and a number of painted cloths.” Many of these goods were old or cheap, but that’s the point. Thanks to the expansion of trade, transportation, and specialized production, for the first time, ordinary people had access to goods once considered luxuries.
The transformation increased the country’s prosperity but was also disruptive in ways that resonate today. Rents rose, and labor was no longer as short as it had been in the previous era. “After 1540 consumption expanded, but the previous security disappeared, as families had to compete for work,” writes Muldrew. “Some did well, while others failed.” More goods were available, raising the standard of living, but attaining it felt less certain.
16th-century market scene. The Elizabethans weren’t big on depicting ordinary people and activities in art, so I’m going with a Netherlandish drawing from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Most of the paintings you’ll see online claiming to illustrate Elizabethan food or markets are actually from the Low Countries.
What struck me the most about Muldrew’s findings (and I’m still reading the book) is the way the gains were skewed. Some ordinary farmers and tradesmen benefited from the expansion of markets for their goods and services. Others did not. So within the same original social class, there were winners and losers.
So the losers didn’t have to be objectively worse off to feel that way. Muldrew cites mason John Clark, whose estate included only 17 items worth a mere £1 6s. “But even he owned better quality goods than someone in a similar situation might have 30 years earlier, for he had a half feather, half flock bed and a painted hanging, but he was very much poorer than many of his neighbours.” Of such contrasts is economic nostalgia born.
Muldrew observes:
What was much more important than any absolute rise or decline in the living standards of poor families was the fact that many of their neighbours had become much wealthier over the course of the century, and it was in comparison to their improved standard of living that poorer households seemed worse off. Also, because wealthier households had bettered themselves, they consequently interpreted the lack of mobility, or downward mobility, of poorer households as competitive failure.
Similarly, if in the mid-20th century an American family was solidly middle class (say, the third quintile of income) and its children went to college, they’re likely now in the top two quintiles of income. If they didn’t go to college, they’re much less likely to have risen and may be relatively worse off than their parents. Either way, however, they have a lot more stuff, including goods and services that were unimaginable 50 years ago. But, like the Elizabethans, contemporary Americans who feel poorer than their former economic peers resent their relative decline, while the upwardly mobile mistake their rise for personal superiority. Both groups tend to forget what the recent past was really like. And commentators decry the terrible state of things.
This post went out to subscribers to my Substack newsletter on April 23, 2023. Check out all the posts, including ones from the archives not reposted here, and subscribe here.
"Reading" to my dolls circa age 2.
What I’ve been reading:
The Man Who Loved China by Simon Winchester (audio, listened to twice, should buy the Kindle edition for future reference): Beginning during World War II, Joseph Needham collected and read countless historic manuscripts and books from China and, by pulling together the information they contained into his massive, multivolume Science and Civilisation in China fundamentally altered our understanding of the history of science and technology. Although it’s hardly the most important fruit of this work, I can’t imagine The Fabric of Civilization without it.
The Perfectionists: How Precision Engineers Created the Modern World by Simon Winchester (audio, then bought Kindle). I found the earlier chapters of this book more interesting than the more recent ones. But that’s probably more a reflection of my interest than the book’s strengths.
Wild Swans by Jung Chang (audio, then bought paper) Massive, best-selling book telling the story of modern China through the stories of the author, her parents (officially her mother, but her father is more than a background figure), and herself. It’s very good at showing the complexities of the Chinese Civil War and resistance to Japan, demonstrating why someone would join the early Maoists, and capturing the devastation of the Great Leap Forward famine and the Cultural Revolution.
China’s Good War by Rana Mitter (audio, then bought paper) Fascinating book on how China has revised the scholarly and official understandings of World War II, reincorporating the Nationalist resistance to Japan. The book discusses both serious scholarship and propaganda purposes.
Greetings from Bury Park by Sarfraz Manzoor (audio, after watching the movie, Blinded by the Light, which was based on it). Mostly just fun, especially if you like Bruce Springsteen. Also a window into Pakistani immigrants in the UK.
A Lost Lady by Willa Cather (audio, after reading that Cather hated the movie made from it, which does sound like a travesty). I’m slowly becoming a Cather completist. I have a Kindle collection of all her works so I’ll probably read that version as well. If you haven’t read it, check out my post on her.
The Jewel House: Elizabethan London and the Scientific Revolution (Kindle) I still in the midst of this book on the specimen collectors and experimenters centered on Lime Street in London. They’re distinguished from later natural philosophers by both their methodology—mostly collecting and exchanging specimens—and their economic positions. These were people who worked at regular jobs rather than academics or aristocrats. Not riveting but solid research on a little-explored aspect of early modern science.
I’m also working through a stack of books on early retailing, credit, and consumption. Interlibrary Loan is one of the great perks of being at Chapman.
Posted by Virginia Postrel on July 19, 2024 • Comments
This post went out to subscribers to my Substack newsletter on April 2, 2023. Check out all the posts, including ones from the archives not reposted here, and subscribe here.
The death of Gordon Moore, the Intel co-founder and semiconductor pioneer famous for “Moore’s Law,” is the latest reminder that the so-called Silent Generation is insanely misnamed. The generation born between about 1926 and 1945 is the one that changed the world in politics, science, art, sports, and business. The so-called Silents led the civil rights and second-wave feminist movements, built Silicon Valley and the New Hollywood, developed Pop Art and rock music. Silents walked on the moon.
The 1951 Time article credited with popularizing the term Silent Generation declared that “Today’s generation, either through fear, passivity or conviction, is ready to conform.” But it also reported signs of discontent. “This generation suffers from lack of worlds to conquer. Its fathers in a sense, did too well,” said one young man. A young woman lamented, “The individual is almost dead today, but the young people are unaware of it. They think of themselves as individuals, but really they are not.”
In a relatively small generation, a few creative dissidents could catalyze change. Individual Silents faced less competition for attention and resources than members of larger generations. They also enjoyed the possibilities opened up after World War II, whether American prosperity or the weakening of class strictures in Britain. Silents became the leaders that the Baby Boomers, arguably a more conformist bunch, followed.
Although there are more famous Silents, Stewart Brand may be their quintessential representative. He’s always slightly ahead off the curve. Back in the 1990s, he observed to me that his generation didn’t think business was bad, even when they were rebelling against corporate conformity. So they were naturally placed to lead an entrepreneurial revolution. (I’m remembering a very old conversation, so take the details with a grain of salt.) Stewart is the person who told me about Amazon.com when it was a brand new company, leading to this article. His then-new book How Buildings Learn was one of the first titles I ordered online and it had a significant influence on The Future and Its Enemies. My decidedly un-hippie father, born in 1934, was an early buyer of The Whole Earth Catalog. Its “access to tools” philosophy anticipated our technology-empowered DIY culture (see my 2007 take on the trend, which has only gotten stronger).
And here’s another Silent recently in the news.
About those aviator shades
My Foreign Policy article on Silent Generation President Joe Biden’s aviator sunglasses is now out and available for comparison to the ChatGPT version. I don’t love the headline, which conflates appearance and reality (or A&R, as we called it when discussing Renaissance literature in college). I encourage you to read the whole thing, using an incognito window if you hit the paywall. Here’s a excerpt:
In Vanity Fair in August 2020, Erin Vanderhoof skewered Biden as insufficiently radical, writing that the glasses “stand in as a symbol for why so many young people feel disillusioned by the candidate. Six decades ago, Biden picked an accessory and he has stuck with it ever since … . It seems to reflect his approach to ideas like bipartisanship and respect for norms.”
But that continuity—including the promise of respect for norms—appealed to much of the electorate, which wasn’t ready to write off the United States as an irredeemably awful country or make a virtue of demonizing their fellow citizens. Like Trump’s MAGA hats, Biden’s sunglasses hark back to the triumphs of the 20th century but without the sense of loss. Aviators suggest an America that is feisty, nonconformist, powerful, competent, and ultimately good. Like the classic lenses, that vision of the country goes in and out of fashion but never disappears.
Posted by Virginia Postrel on July 19, 2024 • Comments
This post went out to subscribers to my Substack newsletter on March 15, 2023. Check out all the posts, including ones from the archives not reposted here, and subscribe here.
My most recently completed article, which won’t be published for a while, is a column for Foreign Policy magazine on Joe Biden’s aviator sunglasses.1 It’s part of a package about specific objects in the news. (One of the others, for instance, is on tanks.) So I decided to check out the new edition of ChatGPT by giving it the assignment: Write a column about Biden's aviator sunglasses in the style of Virginia Postrel.
The result isn’t a bad generic column. It could fill any number of content maws. But it isn’t in the style of Virginia Postrel. Without scooping FP’s publication, it’s safe to say that my actual column is both more substantive—more research was involved—and more interesting. Here’s what the chatbot turned out:
Joe Biden's aviator sunglasses have become a symbol of his presidential style, reflecting not only his personal fashion taste but also his political persona. The aviators are a classic choice for any leader, projecting an image of strength, confidence, and authority. But for Biden, they also convey a sense of authenticity and a connection to a bygone era of American politics.
The aviator sunglasses were first introduced in the 1930s as a functional tool for pilots to reduce glare and protect their eyes during flight. They quickly became popular among military pilots and then civilians, and have since become a timeless style statement. The classic shape features large, teardrop-shaped lenses with a thin metal frame that curves around the ears.
Biden's affinity for aviators dates back to his early political career, when he was known for his classic, preppy style. He has been spotted wearing aviators at various public events over the years, including during his time as Vice President under Barack Obama. But it wasn't until he took office as President in 2021 that the aviators became a staple of his daily attire.
The aviators are a fitting choice for Biden, who has often been praised for his down-to-earth demeanor and his ability to connect with people from all walks of life. They also serve as a nod to his long career in public service, spanning several decades of American history. The sunglasses reflect a sense of nostalgia for a simpler time, when America was seen as a global superpower and the world looked to its leaders for guidance and inspiration.
But the aviators are more than just a fashion statement for Biden. They are a visual reminder of the responsibilities that come with leadership, and the need to remain focused and vigilant at all times. The sunglasses shield his eyes from the harsh glare of the political spotlight, while also conveying a sense of calm and composure under pressure.
In many ways, Biden's aviator sunglasses embody the qualities that have made him such a popular and effective leader. They are timeless, classic, and unassuming, yet also powerful and authoritative. They speak to a sense of American pride and patriotism, while also acknowledging the challenges that lie ahead.
As Biden continues to navigate the complex political landscape of the 21st century, his aviator sunglasses will likely remain a fixture of his public persona. They are a simple yet powerful symbol of his leadership style, reflecting his commitment to duty, honor, and service to his country.
This post by Robert Graboyes is great fun and a powerful reminder of the ways in which everyday technologies have changed over the past few decades. It reminded me how, during my college years (1978-82), I used to have to stand in line at the bank whenever I needed cash or, when the bank was closed (i.e., weekends) I’d have to pay the university store a 50 cent fee to cash a $25 check.
When applied to complex systems that rely on local knowledge “design thinking”—surprise!—is, at best, a big waste of time and money. What works for inventing the Swiffer turns out to be pretty dumb about education and health care. Writing in Technology Review, Rebecca Ackerman looks at where the designers went wrong.
Economist David Rose proposes an interesting reform to give voters primary results they’re more likely to find satisfactory: allow them to vote not only for candidates but explicitly against them. Then subtract the negative votes from the total. Along the way, he explains Harold Hotelling’s median voter theorem and why it doesn’t apply in primary fields with lots of candidates. I’d definitely vote for his proposed reform. Read the whole thing.
In one of those “content maw” articles soon to be replaced by ChatGPT, CNBC reports that graphic design topped Upwork’s list of in-demand skills. “This skill is in ‘giant’ demand—and can pay up to $145 an hour as a side hustle” is the headline. This result isn’t what the “robots are taking our jobs” crowd might have thought back when I was writing The Substance of Style. Skills once reserved for trained designers were being embedded in everyday software. But it turns out that just raised the ante—much as TSOS readers might have expected.
Jeff Maurer’s I Might Be Wrong offers a smart take about why liberal kids seem to be more depressed than conservative ones. It's the most plausible explanation I've seen. Plus jokes.
Posted by Virginia Postrel on July 19, 2024 • Comments
