The Gift
Let me talk a little bit about the notion of a gift economy. This is not the same as the so-called sharing economy, which I am not in support of in its current state. A gift economy is one where (ideally) there is an exchange with no expectation of return, no obligation. It is as rare as a four-leaf clover because we humans love to place value on things, experiences, even time itself. It’s very hard to shake; receiving a gift makes many people terribly uncomfortable, and choosing the correct gift (in a hyperaware society like Japan, or for your mother-in-law, or even for that coworker who is going away) seems fraught with choice.
That’s what it comes down to — choice. We think we crave it but it can be a scary thing.
Gifting, especially physical objects, also relates to ownership. I am told by the Internets daily that ownership is going away, and overrated, and that shared resources are everything…but if nothing belongs to anyone, how can I impart a gift? A gift can tie people together, remind you of a person or an experience, somehow grow more precious as time passes, and can actually be tangibly be given to future generations.
I’m not knocking experiences, and we are certainly trending toward sharing experiences. They are their own special category, they build empathy and do a lot of great work but at the same time, they lack totemic value, they don’t prompt questions, and they don’t create the inimitable sensation of weight and thereness. You can’t hold an experience in your hand. There’s a kind of magic that a simple shell from a beach — uncustomizable, inconveniently breakable, quite identical to millions of others — can mean the world to someone if it’s given by the right other person.
What about clutter? What about wasting resources? In many ways, minimalism is a luxury for the rich. It’s a bit counterintuitive. Receiving and owning objects however, especially gifts, is a luxury if you don’t have much.
Part of my work is this: I provide a service to people who make things. Sometimes, they will give me what they make — not as payment or barter, but because we have talked about what they make, and they know I understand what it cost them, in effort and late nights and epiphanies, to get to that point. So everything I have is a gift from others, literally. Without these tangible things, I cannot live as well as I do. Possessing objects can be liberating, and extremely meaningful if you don’t have money.
Can a gift economy survive a sharing economy or even an experience economy? I think so, but it’s up to us to place value on this kind of exchange, to be okay with discomfort, to live without expectation or ROI. It’s not for every situation but it’s absolutely the right thing for some situations. I’m cautiously encouraged by platforms like Dollar a Day and Awesome Foundation though they are still dollar amount-driven. Record swaps and clothing swaps are better but still impersonal.
The beauty about a gift is that it enables you to see the world in a different way, to seek out more beauty, and to want to grant that to someone else. It self-perpetuates, beautifully. Last year for my birthday, I received a art poster in the mail, something that I had my eye on. I still don’t know who gave me that poster…but it hangs in my dining room, and I look at it every day, and I wonder who loves me that much. I try to be generous with my time and my words and the little things — a one-inch button, a red maple leaf, a handwritten letter — I can give to others. It’s humbling to own that poster, and maybe we all need more of that sensation in our lives.
