July 20, 2014
Last week we memorialized the loss of a local Lansing area institution, Goodrich’s Shop-Rite. Apologies to those readers who felt that I did not take the closure of a commercial establishment seriously enough. Maybe I can work myself up to something more commensurate with the deep emotional attachment that people felt for Goodrich’s by considering its broader religious significance. It was called “Shop Rite”, after all. The robot who lives inside my desktop is telling me that “sacrament” is a synonym for “rite”, so perhaps there is something to explore here.
An anthropologist would tell you that all religions employ stylized and repetitive acts that take place at a set time and place. These rituals immerse the faithful in an experience that symbolizes the core tenets of the religious tradition. Participation in a ritual is generally an emotionally charged experience. As a simple Google search taught me, “The exalted feelings people experience during rituals provide positive reinforcement for continuing them. When rituals make people “feel good”, they reinforce the belief that their religion is the “correct” one.”
Which brings us to the shop rite. What key religious tradition is this symbolizing? My cynical bone is telling me that it’s capitalism. The shop rite makes people feel good about being consumers; it reinforces their belief that capital accumulation is “Biblically correct,” and more in line with the metaphysical order of the universe than, say, socialism or Obamacare.
But this wouldn’t square with all my lefty friends who are bemoaning the loss of Goodrich’s. They’re especially peeved because our local food economy is being taken over by corporate entities like Whole Foods and Fresh Thyme. So it’s doubtful that the shop rite is a celebration of capitalism. So let’s see what Wikipedia says about the shop rite. There we learn that Shop Rite is a cooperative, but unlike ELFCO (regrets to my international readers, but I just don’t have the willpower to explain what ELFCO is today) ShopRite (notice the spacing) looks to all the world just like a supermarket company with a long list of locations in the Northeast. The ShopRite webpage explains that store owners (not shoppers) are members of the co-op, and that it allows them competitively priced access to the full range of produce, dairy, meat and canned, frozen or other processed foods that one expects to find at a local grocery store.
This would make ShopRite something like Piggly Wiggly, which is one of the oldest consortia of independent grocers. All the Piggly Wiggly stores use the same logo, and they save money by running chain-wide specials that allow them to print up circulars for a hundred locations instead of just one. Stuff like that, including the power of store brands. Here in Lansing we have Spartan stores, which is not quite the same thing, but similar. Goodrich’s Shop Rite was not actually a part of ShopRite, but they were a Spartan Store (or at least I think so). There may have been some long-past connection between Goodrich’s and ShopRite, but I have no idea. Maybe there was a schism over some minor point in theology.
So the rite that Goodrich’s shoppers were participating in was related to supporting a locally owned business, one that was especially responsive to some of the unique features of its location. Like for instance the fact that hundreds of foreign students and visiting faculty were living in walking distance. In contrast, the big chains mostly “adapt” to local environments just by dropping things that they would sell to more affluent white people from their shelves. It explains why the Meijer stores on the East Side are both better stocked and less dingy than the one on West Saginaw, for instance. Of course Meijer is at least a Michigan company, so maybe we should be shifting our allegiance in that direction now that Goodrich’s is gone.
This religion stuff is all pretty confusing for a poor philosopher.
Paul B. Thompson holds the W.K. Kellogg Chair in Agricultural, Food and Community Ethics at Michigan State University