Vol.
7, No. 1, December 2005
The Limits and Possibilities of Branding Culture in Handicraft Economies
By Frederick
F. Wherry
University of Pennsylvania
ffwherry@sas.upenn.edu
Large retailers
such as Pier-1 Imports, World Market, and Ten Thousand Villages,
to name but a few, have emerged as major players in the market
for handicrafts. According to the database of artisanal products
maintained by the World Trade Organization (WTO) and the United
Nations Commission on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), in 2003
the global export of wooden furniture generated $US 16.6 billion;
ceramics, $US 1.4 billion; candles and tapers, $1.4 billion; and
artificial flowers, $US 1.3 billion. Although handicraft artisans
constitute a significant segment of the world economy, little
is known about how the different countries these artisans populate
gain a comparative advantage from branding culture. I argue that
the conventional understanding that "those who can, do" fails
to explore the connection between private matters (talent, traditions,
skill) and public issues (national orientations to different representations
of culture) [Swidler 1986; Biggart and Guillen 1999].
I use archival
evidence, trade data, and interviews with key informants to demonstrate
that as each nation-state worked toward defining its own identity
and marking itself apart from outsiders, it created niches for
some types of cultural commodities but made other types nearly
unthinkable (Wherry 2006a; Wherry, under review). Thailand's more
favorable approach to cultural heritage contrasts Costa Rica's
reticence to appear too "ethnic." I explain how these understandings
and appreciations of local culture mediate the rise of new marketplaces.
In each country, one artisan boasts of how well she or he has
done in the handicraft market, as if individual talent, good luck,
and the dedication to honing traditional practices fully explained
the different outcomes that artisans experience in the same country.
Some international tourists believe that Thai artisans do better
in global markets than Costa Rican artisans because Thailand has
more stocks of cultural heritage than Costa Rica does. Thailand
lays claim to uninterrupted cultural traditions, free from the
stain of colonialism, but Costa Rica seems to have been a virgin
wild before the Spaniards seized hold of it. One crafts broker
from the United States remarked that buying crafts and furniture
from Chiang Mai was nearly risk-free because his pool of clients
had a pretty good idea about what to expect from "Amazing Thailand":
the land of gold-roofed Buddhist temples, the spectacle of saffron
robes suspended in morning mist (a barely perceptible procession
of cloaked monks carrying silver alms bowls), white sand beaches,
teakwood furniture, hill-tribe and local crafts, and sex on sale.
By contrast,
in surveys of international tourists to Costa Rica, it becomes
clear that most people know, before ever arriving, that Costa
Rica is a great place for lounging on the beach and for visiting
the jungle, but ask what they know about Costa Rica's indigenous
cultures and expect to draw a blank, because, it is vaguely believed,
the indigenous groups reside in those other countries around there,
you know, Guatemala and places like that. In Costa Rica, one finds
the lush jungle, the carefully manicured coffee plantations cooperatively
owned by small-scale landowners, brilliantly plumaged parrots,
oversized butterflies, clean seas, and an even cleaner social
conscience. (They abolished their military to invest in people
rather than bloodshed.) As the visitor takes home a bag of Costa
Rican coffee or a picture of her jungle trek, she confirms what
everyone already believed to be true about what Costa Rica is
and, by extension, what the country and its citizens produce.
My investigation
into how these countries' cultures are branded focuses on how
the public expectations about a country affect the stances that
artisans, brokers, governments, and other actors take with regard
to the production of cultural commodities such as handicrafts.
The way that brokers and consumers make sense of their handicraft
purchases relies on their patched-together understanding of these
public perceptions. When one hears "Made in Thailand," one conjures
a different set of images about the types of products and the
character of its producers than one does upon hearing "Made in
Costa Rica." These images connect the purchased good to its country
of origin and to similar goods around the world. These images
also evoke historical myths, symbols, and practices. The way that
one makes sense of the purchase is often a mish-mash, in Robert
Wuthnow's formulation, as if from a rag drawer:
Rags
have been used before, although quite often for a different purpose
than the one to which they are about to be put. They are still
usable as cloth, and this property renders them more useful for
some purposes than for others. To make something elaborate such
as a quilt, we... have to piece together our projects by using
a variety of rags [Wuthnow 1996: 95-96].
In the handicraft
market, buyers stitch together the rationale for purchasing cultural
commodities from bits and pieces of history: travel accounts,
posters, pamphlets, museum visits, National Geographic, The
New York Times (travel and arts sections), other high-brow
magazines and newspapers, and direct experience with a place,
a person, or a thing. The accumulation of these rags in memory's
drawer enable artisans, brokers, and buyers to make sense of what
they do, what they sell, and what they buy. Some countries have
rag drawers more conducive to the export of their cultural commodities
than do other countries.
In both nations,
one sees how the country's overall reputation for cultural heritage
corresponds, in part, with the comparative advantages that its
handicrafts obtain in global markets. Going back to the roots
of each country's traditions, one finds that the comparative advantage
that Thai artisans enjoy in cultural markets and the comparative
disadvantage that the Costa Rican artisans endure do not emerge
"naturally." Each country "worked" its reputation for culture
according to how the nation-state defined itself and in response
to a set of historical contingencies. Frank Dobbin's understanding
of how the United States, Britain, and France developed their
industrial railroad policies becomes even more salient in the
market for cultural commodities: "History has produced distinct
ideas about order and rationality in different nations and modern
industrial policies are organized around those ideas" (Dobbin
1997: 2). The imperative to define the national identity emerged
in reaction to the threat of colonization, as a response to pressures
within the nation-state for social unity and political control,
and with concern for the nation's status within the world community
of nations. The ideas about national identity that emerged from
these histories shaped the state's export promotion policies for
handicrafts and the contours of its appeal for international tourism.
The nation
state has worked its cultural image, in part, through the identity
of its exported products. The nation's exports justified its freedom
from colonization (in the case of Thailand) [Wherry, paper under
review] and its worthiness to act independently of its colonial
master after decolonization (in the case of Costa Rica) [Wherry
2006]. For the former, the nation's exports confirmed that Thailand
was unique among nations (in the exotic items it produced) but
was also en par with the European powers in its adaptation
of modern practices and in its production of modern commodities
for export; therefore, the Thai were in no need of being civilized
by outsiders. For the latter, the nation's export platform tried
to eliminate any hint that the country was unique in indigenous
exotica. In order to be en par with its former colonial
master, the Costa Ricans insisted they were as modern in their
practices and in their products as any European nation. To prove
itself a member of the global mainstream, the Costa Rican nation-state
was willing to shed indigenous identities and practices for universal
(read: white European) ones. These orientations to national identity--
one acculturated, the other assimilated-- shaped the opportunities
available for the promotion and export of indigenous handicrafts
in Thailand and Costa Rica.
As the state
developed symbolic boundaries to define its own social identity
and to differentiate it from the identities of its neighbors and
of other outsiders, the state created niches for some types of
cultural commodities but made other types nearly unthinkable.
Cultural objects conforming to the state's self-image were more
likely, at least, to escape state-imposed restrictions, if not
to enjoy state-sponsored supports. By sketching the biographical
moments in which these cultural commodities were born, one can
understand why some handicraft economies are better able than
others to use their cultural traditions effectively in the global
crafts market.
The state's
promotion of cultural commodity exports (e.g., handicrafts, ethnic
food, etc.) resembles an individual engaging in face-work to create
and maintain a favorable self image: the state works on the impression
that others have of it by putting on a "face" that confirms its
favorable self-image (Goffman 1959). As an actor on the world
stage, the state "takes a line" in the international division
of labor by portraying itself as possessing a modern (prestige
symbols: high technology exports, industrial production) or traditional
economy (stigma symbols: low technology exports, extractive industries)
[Goffman 1963]. The state and private sector agents are not always
aware that they too are taking a line. Indeed, the rationale for
promoting export in one sector but not another is justified in
technical terms. However, Frank Dobbin's study of the railroad
promotion policies demonstrates that there are numerous ways to
achieve the same sense of technical efficiency in constructing
railroads, but the selection of the most appropriate option depends
on the shared understandings (the public culture) within the nation-state.
Likewise, an earlier assessment by Jaques Maquet describes the
design of trains from the United States, Britain, and France as
signs of each country's public culture that also take technical
efficiency concerns into account. In short, the shared understandings
of a nation-state become refracted in the state's way of seeing
which economic policies may be viable, efficiency and profit considerations
notwithstanding.
What are
the public cultures of Thailand and of Costa Rica, how did they
take shape over time, and how do they affect the livelihood of
the handicraft artisans who dwell therein? I explore these questions
by first witnessing each country engage in the arts of impression
management at the World's Fair; then I review how geopolitical
issues and changes in the macro-economic environment further shaped
the public's understanding of what it means to be Thai or Costa
Rican and what types of goods and services from such culturally
identified places might make the most sense to producers, exporters,
and consumers.
My findings
highlight the "non-economic" considerations that condition production
and consumption in artisan economies (Colloredo-Mansfeld 2003).
In other words, it is not enough to possess stocks of symbolic
capital; the capitalist inherits a collective understanding (orientation)
of the uses (appropriation) to which different types of symbolic
capital ought to be put. It is not only that former agricultural
workers are being pushed out of farm, factory, and protected government
employment while being pulled into handicraft production and tourist
services (Pérez Sáinz and Andrade-Eekhoff 2003),
but it is also that both the workers and the capitalists "see"
(sometimes subconsciously) the production of some types of cultural
commodities as a means to protect cultural traditions and to validate
a favorable cultural identity for the nation-state. There is a
deep structure of inequality in the social statuses of different
nation-states, relative statuses based on the inter-state comparison
of prestige and stigma symbols. This enduring set of status perceptions
orients the course of the country's economic development. These
perceptions sometimes divert economic development energies away
from those stocks of symbolic capital easily appropriated but
socially stigmatized. At other times, these perceptions intensify
the state's motivation to support material culture and to protect
cultural traditions in order to promote both economic development
and a favorable social identity of the nation-state.
As actors
reach into their mental rag bag to account for what they make
and what they sell, they find a set of enabling and disabling
images: indigenous communities known for their nobility versus
those known for savagery (Kyle 2003); traditional forms versus
innovative designs (Wherry 2006b); regionally-specific traditions
versus country-wide traditions. The groups and strategies sanctioned
by the nation-state's cultural orientation create as much comparative
advantage in the handicraft sector as do capital, labor, and knowledge.
Therefore, to understand the success of artisans in global markets,
it is not enough to think about the individual qualities of the
artisans or of the particular cultural contributions of their
group to world culture, one must also think about the public culture
that makes the promotion of particular cultural sectors of the
economy thinkable.
References
Biggart,
Nicole W. and Mauro Guillén. 1999. "Developing Difference:
Social Organization and the Rise of the Auto Industries of South
Korea, Taiwan, Spain, and Argentina," American Sociological
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_____________1963.
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Wherry, Frederick
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Crafts: Constructing Markets and Opportunities in Northwest Costa
Rica," Ethnic & Racial Studies 29/1, Forthcoming.
______________
2006b. "The Social Sources of Authenticity in Global Handicraft
Markets: Evidence from northern Thailand," Journal of Consumer
Culture 6/1 (2006), Forthcoming.
____________
(under review) Making Culture Work: Globalization, Cultural
Traditions, and Handicraft Economies. Book manuscript.
Wuthnow,
Robert 1996. Poor Richard's principle: Recovering the American
Dream through the Moral Dimension of Work, Business, & Money.
Princeton: Princeton University Press.
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