I’ll keep my drill, thanks.
I’ll keep my drill, thanks.
‘D o you want to own a drill?” asks the old adage. “Or do you just want two holes in your wall?” Having watched the behavior of the Canadian government over the last couple of weeks, I think I’ll take the drill.
Historically, this “drill, or two holes in the wall” question has been invoked in the context of marketing — its purpose being to remind the purveyors of consumer products that they should focus on what their wares do rather than what they are. “Don’t tell people how strong the engine is,” a consultant might say, “tell them how fast they can drive.” More recently, however, the idea has been adapted to explain the benefits of a futuristic model in which, as the Cato Institute’s Paul Matzko suggests, we will “own less but have more.” In the coming years, Matzko suggested this week, Americans will choose to “swap out physical possession for access to streams of service” — “think Netflix or rental cars but for almost everything.” “Rather than storing an object 24/7 in case you might infrequently use it at some indeterminate point in the future,” he concludes, “our stuff will circulate.”
Will it? I’m not so sure. In theory, it is possible for one to combine the streaming model with the sharing model and to cut down on waste as a result. But we do not live in theory, we live in practice, and, in practice, we simply do not have enough trust in our corporations for such a system to be attractive. Citing supposed consumer demand, the BBC has been quietly editing its archives, such that any British citizen who does not have a physical copy of old shows or productions has lost access to the originals forever. Appealing to “diversity,” companies such as Airbnb and Uber have announced that they will not serve anyone whom they believe to be “racist” or involved with a “hate group.” And then there’s Canada, whose government has not only armed itself with the power to freeze the bank accounts and cancel the insurance policies of its political opponents without due process, but which is currently taking steps to make that power permanent.
Again: I’ll think I’ll own the drill.
Given the structure of modern life, it would be tough for those of us who are alarmed by Canada’s behavior to respond by refusing to use the international banking system. But to acknowledge that one’s options are limited in that realm is in no way to resign ourselves to vulnerability everywhere else. As a personal matter, I have no interest whatsoever in outsourcing my ability to drive, handle DIY projects, mow my own lawn, or protect my home. But if I did, the events of the last few months would have spooked me out of it forever. My car is just that: my car. Yes, it sits in my garage for more time than it is used. Yes, in a bloodless sense, that is somewhat inefficient. But those inefficiencies are unquestionably worth it to me in exchange for the convenience and security that comes along with my being its sole and undisputed owner. There are no terms and conditions attached to the possession of my car; there is nothing I can say that could inspire a Twitter mob big enough to take it away from me; and I am obliged to ask nobody’s permission but my own when I wish to use it. On paper, the idea of “access to streams of service” sounds innocent enough. The problem, as ever, lies in the “access” part.
Does this sound paranoid? It shouldn’t. We now live in a world in which the word “freedom” is cast as “white supremacy”; in which donating to a legal protest is deemed akin to “terrorist financing”; and in which all manner of political dialogue is redefined as “hate speech” or “misinformation” or even “treason.” Are you confident that you will never end up on the wrong side of this habit? Are you sure that you will never become persona non grata for a while? Are you absolutely, utterly, completely positive that you’re different from those other guys? I’m not — not for a solitary second. And if, by chance, I end up needing two holes in my wall while the mob is buzzing hungrily around me, I’ll need a sizeable cache of my own equipment with which to make them. Think of it as my very own emergency act.