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5. THE POLITICS OF CONSUMPTION: CHOICE AND EXPERIENCE'Neoliberalism and Popular Women Culture: Rethinking Chice, Freedom and Agency'

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5. THE POLITICS OF CONSUMPTION: CHOICE AND EXPERIENCE'Neoliberalism and Popular Women Culture: Rethinking Chice, Freedom and Agency'

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Neoliberalism and popular women’s culture_ Rethinking choice, freedom and agency

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'The goal is to automate us': welcome to the age of surveillance capitalism

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Shoshana Zuboff's new book is a chilling exposé of the business model that underpins the digital world. Observer tech columnist John Naughton explains the importance of Zuboff's work and asks the author 10 key questions

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The battle against palm oil may be counter productive - whats the real problem here?

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Palm oil can be found in food and cosmetics everywhere: in fact, half of the world's population uses palm oil in food.

But public awareness about the loss of wildlife through deforestation caused by palm oil crops is growing, and there's mounting pressure on retailers to reduce their sales of palm oil products, or boycott them altogether.

The debate has become especially heated since a Christmas advert by UK-based supermarket chain Iceland - which dramatises the link between palm oil, deforestation and the death of orangutans - was barred from being broadcast in the UK, on the basis that it would have breached political advertising laws, because the animation was originally produced by Greenpeace.

In the first four days of its release, the video was viewed 13 million times. A petition to overturn the advert ban has so far attracted more than 720,000 signatures.

But while Iceland's campaign has been a great way to bring more public attention to food sustainability issues, an outright boycott on palm oil products could actually lead to more problems for forests and wildlife.

The evidence

A recent report by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, concluded that boycotting palm oil would merely shift - rather than counter - losses to rainforests and wildlife caused by agriculture.

Put simply, boycotted palm oil would need to be replaced by other types of vegetable oil to meet global demand - and that could actually make matters worse.

This is because, compared to other common sources of vegetable oil - such as rapeseed and soybeans - palm oil crops yield four to ten times more oil per unit of land, and require far less pesticide and fertiliser. In fact, palm oil makes up 35 percent of all vegetable oils, grown on just 10 percent of the land allocated to oil crops.

So, if other crops such as soybean replaced a shortfall in palm oil, this would not only shift more production to the Amazon ( a major soy-producing region), it would also require more land, leading to more deforestation.

Indeed, soybean farming is already responsible for more than double the deforestation of palm oil. In the context of other food sources, livestock and beef production has led to more than five times the amount of deforestation, compared to palm oil.

Sustainable palm oil

Certification - a mechanism by which consumers pay higher prices for more responsibly sourced products - is one way to help safeguard rainforests, and the wildlife which lives in them.

Palm oil certification is spearheaded by the Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil (RSPO), who are leading the market toward environmentally and socially responsible palm oil that doesn't contribute to deforestation.

As the RSPO meets to renew its sustainability commitments, one major challenge facing the sector is that less than 20 percent of the world's palm oil is currently certified as sustainable.

There is little incentive for producers to seek certification - or for retailers to promote environmentally and socially responsible products - as long as the debate continues to focus on boycotting palm oil altogether.

As a result, only about half of sustainable palm oil is actually sold as certified, because a large proportion of the market is not willing to pay the premium for sustainable products.

Despite this, many large retailers and leading brands (including Nestlé, Unilever and Palmolive) and supermarkets (such as Morrison's, Waitrose and Sainsbury's in the UK) are already using certified palm oil in their products, but cannot heavily promote this due to the persistent negativity toward any type of palm oil.

Wildlife friendly plantations

To help the palm oil industry to safeguard wildlife, conservation scientists are working with certification bodies and producers to improve how palm oil cultivation affects biodiversity. It can be as simple as growing the crop on non-forested areas.

But it can also involve protecting forests along rivers, such that they join up patches of high quality forest within the palm oil landscape, allowing wildlife to move more freely.

If certification of palm oil becomes more popular, it will improve prospects for wildlife, including orangutans. This is why major conservation organisations - including leading orangutan charities and Greenpeace - continue to support certified palm oil, rather than a boycott.

And now, environmentally conscious consumers can check where they can buy products that contain responsibly sourced palm oil.

Hopefully the interest sparked by Iceland's advert will bring positive changes for rainforests and their wildlife.

But a boycott is not the best answer. The best thing retailers can do is support their suppliers to bring more responsibly sourced products to the supermarket shelves this Christmas.
Jake Bicknell, Postdoctoral Research Associate, University of Kent; Eleanor Slade, Research Fellow, University of Oxford, and Matthew Struebig, Senior Lecturer in Biological Conservation, University of Kent This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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Jake Bicknell, Eleanor Slade, and Matthew Struebig, The Conversation

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Why Your Palm Oil Boycott May Not Be The Best Way to Save The Environment

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Palm oil can be found in food and cosmetics everywhere: in fact, half of the world's population uses palm oil in food. But public awareness about the loss of wildlife through deforestation caused by palm oil crops is growing, and there's mounting pressure on retailers to reduce their sales of palm oil products, or boycott them altogether.

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As a follow-up to yesterday's discussion

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SouthPark- Donating money to hungry children part one

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authenticity - bullshit and no free choice 

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authenticity - bullshit and no free choice 

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All photos by Theo McInnes, unless otherwise stated

Once upon a time, long before I began selling my face by the acre for features on VICE dot com, I worked other jobs. There was one in particular that really had an impact on me: writing fake reviews on TripAdvisor. Restaurant owners would pay me £10 and I'd write a positive review of their place, despite never eating there. Over time, I became obsessed with monitoring the ratings of these businesses. Their fortunes would genuinely turn, and I was the catalyst.

This convinced me that TripAdvisor was a false reality - that the meals never took place; that the reviews were all written by other people like me. However, they're not, of course - they're almost all completely genuine. And there was one other factor that seemed impossible to fake: the restaurants themselves. So I moved on.

And then, one day, sitting in the shed I live in, I had a revelation: within the current climate of misinformation, and society's willingness to believe absolute bullshit, maybe a fake restaurant is possible? Maybe it's exactly the kind of place that could be a hit?

In that moment, it became my mission. With the help of fake reviews, mystique and nonsense, I was going to do it: turn my shed into London's top-rated restaurant on TripAdvisor.

SETTING UP "THE SHED AT DULWICH" - APRIL, 2017

First of all, let me introduce you to my site: a shed in a south London garden.

To get started, I need to get verified, and to do that I need a phone.

One £10 burner later and "The Shed at Dulwich" officially exists. Now, I need to list an address - but doing so makes easy work for any skeptical fact checkers. Plus, I don't technically have a door. Instead, I just list the road and call The Shed an "appointment-only restaurant".

Onto my online presence: I buy a domain and build a website. Hot spots are all about quirks, so to cut through the noise I need a concept silly enough to infuriate your dad. A concept like naming all of our dishes after moods.

Now, some soft focus images of those delicious dishes.

You'd eat this, wouldn't you?

Probably best not to.

No, OK, how about-

This sponge covered in paint, with quenelles of shaving foam.

You're getting it: this isn't what it looks like.

It's an egg resting on my foot.

With the concept, logo (thank you, Tristan Cross) and menu nailed down, it all comes together.

I submit my TripAdvisor forms; the rest is up to God.

On the 5th of May, 2017, I wake up to an email:

Hello,

We're excited to tell you that your listing request has been approved and is on our site for everyone to see.

[...]

Thank you for giving us this opportunity to let the TripAdvisor community know about The Shed at Dulwich.

Best Regards,
The TripAdvisor Support Team

No, TripAdvisor, I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity to let the community know about The Shed at Dulwich.

GETTING THE SHED TO NUMBER ONE

I start out ranked at 18,149, the worst restaurant in London, according to TripAdvisor. So I'm going to need a lot of reviews. Reviews written by real people on different computers, so the anti-scammer technology TripAdvisor utilises doesn't pick up on my hoax.

I need convincing reviews, like this one:

And not like this:

The celebrity endorsement Shaun Williamson sends me after I meet him in a pub, thoroughly explain my concept and ask for a photo of him eating fancy food in a fancy place, but instead receive one of him eating a roast dinner with a side of chips.

So I contact friends and acquaintances, and put them to work.

CLIMBING THE RANKS

The first couple of weeks are easy: we crack the top 10,000 in no time, but I don't expect much in the way of inquiries quite yet. Then, one morning, something extraordinary happens: The Shed's burner phone goes off. Startled and hungover, I pick up.

"Hello? Is that The Shed?"

"... Yes?" I sound like a radiator that needs bleeding.

"I've heard so much about your restaurant... I know it's a long shot, as you get booked up so quickly, but I don't suppose you have a table tonight?"

Panicking, I abruptly respond: "Sorry, but we're fully booked for the next six weeks" and slam down the phone. I'm stunned. A day later, I feel another vibration: a 70th birthday booking. Four months in advance. Nine people.

Emails? I check my computer: tens of "appointment" requests await. A boyfriend tries to use his girlfriend's job at a children's hospital for leverage. TV executives use their work emails.

Seemingly overnight, we're now at #1,456. The Shed at Dulwich has suddenly become appealing. How?

I realise what it is: the appointments, lack of address and general exclusivity of this place is so alluring that people can't see sense. They're looking at photos of the sole of my foot, drooling. Over the coming months, The Shed's phone rings incessantly.

THINGS ARE GETTING A BIT OUT OF CONTROL

By the end of August, we're at #156.

And things are starting to get a little out of hand.

First, companies start using the estimated location of The Shed on Google Maps to get their free samples to me. Then people who want to work at The Shed get in touch, in significant numbers. Then I get an email from the council, which wants to relocate us to a site in Bromley they're developing. Then an Australian production company gets in touch, saying they want to exhibit us across the world in an aircraft company's inflight videos.

And then, finally, I have a Skype meeting with a "results-hungry" PR agency that promises to get The Shed onto the Mail Online with a Batman-themed launch and a £200 Lizzie Cundy appearance. The representative calls me "obviously pretty cool", which is nice, but ultimately I decide to handle promotion myself.

THE FINAL PUSH

Winter has arrived, and we're at number 30.

But that position won't budge, no matter how many reviews I throw at it.

Otherwise, though, things have taken a turn.

People approach me on my road to ask if I know how to get to The Shed, and the phone rings more than ever before.

The tone of the emails shifts, with people from all over the globe asking to visit.

And then, one night, I get an email from TripAdvisor. Title: "Information Request". Fuck - the game is up. I've been rumbled. My fingers tremble as I open it: 89,000 views in search results in the past day; dozens of customers asking for information.

Why? Well, on the 1st of November, 2017, six months after listing The Shed at Dulwich online:

It's London's top-rated restaurant.

A restaurant that doesn't exist is currently the highest ranked in one of the world's biggest cities, on perhaps the internet's most trusted reviews site.

On TripAdvisor's website, the company says it dedicates "significant time and resources [to] ensuring that the content on TripAdvisor reflects the real experiences of real travellers". So I get in touch when the whole process is finished to ask how it is that I've managed to sidestep their rigorous checks.

"Generally, the only people who create fake restaurant listings are journalists in misguided attempts to test us," replies a representative via email. "As there is no incentive for anyone in the real world to create a fake restaurant it is not a problem we experience with our regular community - therefore this 'test' is not a real world example."

Which is fair enough; I can't imagine this happens often.

The representative adds that "most fraudsters are only interested in trying to manipulate the rankings of real businesses", so the "distinction between attempted fraud by a real business, as opposed to attempted fraud for a non-existent business, is important". To catch these people out, TripAdvisor uses "state-of-the-art technology to identify suspicious review patterns" and says, "Our community too can report suspicious activity to us." They then quote a 2015 study that found "93 percent of TripAdvisor users said they find the reviews they read to be accurate of the actual experience".

So there you have it: it's done.

LONELY AT THE TOP

Only, it doesn't stop.

I leave the Shed's phone at a friend's house over a long weekend, and when I get it back it has 116 missed calls. So I start answering again. "We're booked up," I lie. "We have a christening." Another lie.

"Hello, The Shed at Dulwich."

"Oh my goodness," a frustrated woman says. "I've actually got through. I first contacted you back in August. I've heard nothing back."

Now I've created this reality, I think, the only thing left to do is make it reality. In just four days, London's best restaurant will come alive. I'm going to open The Shed at Dulwich.

THE BIG NIGHT

But how? I've never even had more than three people round at once, let alone provided dinner and drinks for 20. There's only one way to do it: recreating the exact location people have been describing in reviews for the past six months.

The food reminds people of home? Well, I'll serve them what I grew up eating: ready meals.

People like the rural yet classy vibe? Well, see that Wendy house? It's going to be filled with chickens, like lobsters at an expensive restaurant, so people can pick their chick.

Our success is down to the gaming of TripAdvisor? I'll fill half the tables with people I know, talking loudly about how delicious everything is.

How are we going to achieve the unmistakable ambience of a real restaurant? By getting a DJ in to play the sounds of a real restaurant on CDJs.

To work. Wendy house?

Chicken House. Lawn?

Tidy. Sub-zero temperatures?

Thawed. Extra seating?

Done.

Soon, Joe - my friend and the chef for tonight - shows up. He's spent the past decade travelling the world, working in fine restaurants. A man worthy of The Shed's whites, if ever there was one. Now, we've got produce to source.

Done, all for the price of £31.

Back at The Shed, Phoebe has arrived. She's an intuitive waitress who can really get across the nuances of our menu, like how - by serving pudding in mugs - we're aiming to replicate the experience of what it's like to eat pudding out of a mug.

For the starter, it's Minestrone di Verdure. For mains, a choice of Truffle Mac n Cheese or Once-In-A-Lifetime Vegetable Lasagne. For dessert, The Shed Chocolate Sundae.

One last thing I ask of Phoebe is for her to ask the opinions of every guest, privately, so they're honest.

And with that, my vision has come to life.

Guests sit on the roof, sipping mugs of wine.

Chickens cluck happily in the Wendy house, ready to be slaughtered.

Actors chomp away on spruced-up £1 ready meals.

A DJ pumps out the sound of a restaurant.

It looks, sounds and smells beautiful, and we're ready for our first two guests. I head to the meeting point up the road and, on time, are:

Joel and Maria, all the way from sunny California, vacationing in Europe for the first time. Last night they were in Paris, and tonight is their first night in London. A Pokemon convention tomorrow brings them to the city, but they want to spend their first evening at The Shed.

I ask them to put on blindfolds and they look terrified, but after the two actresses who've arrived at the same time agree, they nod.

I lead the four, hand in hand, into the garden. As we approach the house, Maria says, "I can hear the sound of a kitchen!" No, Maria, you cannot. The blindfolds come off. The Americans are silent.

"We serve moods here. I'll interpret yours and bring a dish that suits. Maria, I get a homely energy from you. Joel? I'm feeling 'cool', right?"

I rush into the kitchen and grab two mains off Joe. As per my request, the DJ triggers "ding" sounds frequently to disguise the noise of our microwave.

I place the pair's dishes down, move away and, observing from a distance, watch them stare at their Mac n Cheese. Maria takes out her phone for a photo, looks at the meal through her camera, pauses, then puts her phone away without taking a picture.

The evening crawls by. Joel spots the two on the roof above him and can't stop looking. After 40 largely quiet minutes, the couple leaves. Joel looks furious.

In the meantime, two locals arrive, full of questions about the place. I let Phoebe take the lead with them, as I've got a table of four to deal with.

After seating them and disappearing to grab drinks, I hear a scream from the kitchen. Outside, a lady runs across the restaurant, squealing. Trevor - oh, good time to introduce Trevor, the man I hired the chickens from - is following her, clutching a chicken flapping its wings.

I snatch the chicken off Trevor and stuff it in the Wendy house. As things calm down, the woman's friends begin to laugh. "Why do you have chickens?" they ask. "It's pick your chicken! We cook the one you like the look of." Their expressions sour. "But I thought you were a vegetarian restaurant? I found you as you're the top-rated veggie restaurant in London."

My heart skips a beat - I hadn't thought of this. "Top in all of London, you mean!" I smile. We're fucked.

People seem to be enjoying the food, but I can't stop thinking 'flapping chicken'. We need to make good with the table of four.

I feel a tap on my shoulder; it's one of them, a man, who informs me it's his friend's birthday. An opportunity to impress arises.

I have a quiet word with my friend and comedian, Lolly Adefope, who's going to privately sing "Happy Birthday" to the birthday-haver. Lolly begins, shushing people who join in until it's just her. It's truly beautiful.

But probably not enough. The other real table of two leave, and I see out our foursome. I apologise as we go, bumbling about new menus and difficult circumstances. In the midst of my wittering, I'm stopped. "Yeah, so about availability," the lady says. "Now that we've been once, is that easier?"

"Yeah, is it easier for us to book a table now?" her husband jumps in.

"Yeah, it would be nice to come again."

I'm absolutely speechless.

"Uh, that's certainly something we can look at."

They wave goodbye and disappear into the night.

By this point the restaurant has slipped considerably in the rankings (the page has now been deleted, but an archived version is available here), but we were in the top spot for almost a fortnight, and that's obviously had an effect.

I barrel down the garden and scream the news: "They want to book again!" Joe, Trevor - all the crew - look at me. We erupt into laughter. "I'm not surprised," says Phoebe, showing me the customers' feedback, which is roundly excellent - possibly because I didn't charge any of them for anything (the whole evening was free because "we were documenting it for a TV show"), but also possibly because they really did have an excellent time.

So there we go: I invited people into a hastily-assembled collection of chairs outside my shed, and they left thinking it really could be the best restaurant in London, just on the basis of a TripAdvisor rating. You could look at this cynically - argue that the odour of the internet is so strong nowadays that people can no longer use their senses properly. But I like to be positive. If I can transform my garden into London's best restaurant, literally anything is possible.
UPDATE 6/12/17, 17:12: After an eagle-eyed reader spotted that each mocked-up TripAdvisor screen shot contained the same number of reviews, we have edited the images so that the number of reviews match those in the actual screen shots and replaced two of the images. More on VICE: I Broke Some Old Laws in Front of Police to See If They'd Arrest Me I Bullshitted My Way to the Top of Paris Fashion Week I Let My Instagram Followers Dictate My Life and Ended Up 250 Miles from Home

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I Made My Shed the Top Rated Restaurant On TripAdvisor

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All photos by Theo McInnes, unless otherwise stated Once upon a time, long before I began selling my face by the acre for features on VICE dot com, I worked other jobs. There was one in particular that really had an impact on me: writing fake reviews on TripAdvisor.

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Sounds about right

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On Bullsh*t Jobs | David Graeber | RSA Replay

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A great animation with a powerful message

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In this new RSA Animate, Professor Renata Salecl explores the paralysing anxiety and dissatisfaction surrounding limitless choice. Does the freedom to be the architects of our own lives actually hinder rather than help us? Does our preoccupation with choosing and consuming actually obstruct social change? Taken from the RSA's free public events programme www.thersa.org/events.