I am a ‘one-dimensional’ human being, ‘dependent and dazed’, but I have not yet reached the state of consciousness in which I would come to that self-understanding: I belong to the people who are still ‘slumbering’. Het Collectief de Rode Fiets says it can diagnose me thanks to my bicycle: a VanMoof (NRC 12/7). To ‘wake’ me and other VanMoof owners from our ‘comfortable slumber’, the members of the collective go out at night for a round of VanMoof shaking. In that maneuver, they rattle the bike back and forth until the electronic alarm goes off, a screeching sound that provokes hearing. There is a good chance that people will indeed be awakened, but I dare to doubt whether the annoyance that this provokes is an effective method for making them receptive to the systemic criticism that the Red Cyclist is aiming for. And that’s a shame, because that criticism makes sense.
In his report on the actions of the collective, Daan Heerma van Voss described the target as follows: “The iron grip of late capitalism, that system aimed at profit maximization, permanent growth and waste”. According to Mike, one of the Red Bicycle campaigners, the crucial distinction between classical and late capitalism is that companies are now more than ever monetized by brand image building.
Naomi Klein, on whom Mike relies, describes in her book No Logo (1999) how companies meticulously create an image around their product that as many people as possible will want to identify with. By deliberately letting that product become obsolete as quickly as possible, they arouse the desire in their customers for the new model: they must have it.
Unsuspected corner
Mike and his cronies, for whom none of the Dutch political parties are left enough, receive support from an unexpected quarter. In Beyond the growth (2006) gave former Robeco top executive and Telegraphcolumnist Jaap van Duijn offers a comparable characterization of late capitalism. He denounced the fixation on permanent growth and short-term profit, of which the strategy of aging products is one of the consequences.
When I bought my VanMoof, I assumed that a company that makes such a beautiful bicycle will also attach great importance to the durability of its product.
Even then, even before the self-scan cash registers and unmanned petrol pumps took off, Van Duijn foresaw that companies would remove the human connection from the service as much as possible, in order to save costs and make more profit. “The service has simply been shifted onto us, the customers,” he said.
My own experience with VanMoof confirms the right of Klein and Van Duijn – and therefore that of the Rode Fiets. When I bought my VanMoof, I assumed that a company that makes such a beautiful bicycle will also attach great importance to the durability of its product and try to keep it on the road for as long as possible. A naive thought. I had it less than a month before VanMoof sent me slick videos about the improved version of my bike, with even more gadgets and an even quieter motor. It was clear that I had to be made curious about the new model again.
Then the hassle of getting my VanMoof repaired still had to come, speaking of service. The electronics of the bicycle have been showing problems for a few months now. The bicycle repair shop in my town with the ‘VanMoof Certified Workshop’ sticker on his window couldn’t help me: he only fixes mechanical defects. A phone call to VanMoof is useless. You get an answering machine that concludes its message with the message: “The connection is now closed.” Then ask a few questions on the site boost, VanMoof’s English-language ‘virtual assistant’, but unfortunately, she didn’t really understand it. Boost did ask me to rate the quality of the virtual conversation with asterisks before allowing me to “to chat with a human” – waiting time: fifteen minutes.
Also read: While shaking expensive VanMoofs, this anonymous company resists late capitalism
Deterrence Method
The end of the song is that I have to go back and forth to the Brand Store in Amsterdam for the repair. For me that means traveling twice an afternoon, the VanMoof owner in Assen or Geleen will have to take two days off for it. VanMoof’s deterrent method reminds me of the remark with which a Leiden bicycle repairman once pointed out a customer who came in with a Kronan, also a bicycle that you had to order on the internet. “You bought it on the internet, then you let it fix it by the internet,” he said.
All in all, it is not surprising if the Red Bicycle sees in VanMoof an exemplary example of a company that through its own actions has become trapped in the ‘iron grip’ of the system of image building and profit maximization. The bad side effects point to this: the slick campaigns to arouse the desire for the new model, a form of service for which the customer has to do the work himself.
All the more regrettable is the method chosen by the Red Bicycle for its actions. You can call it anarchism, as the collective does, to take out other people’s stuff by shaking VanMoof, but it remains a form of vandalism, which can also get a bit scary when the bicycle is identified with its users. . The next step is to shake those people up vigorously because they would be ‘one-dimensional’ beings that need to be awakened from their slumber state. The Red Bicycle better find allies for its fight, even if they might be riding a VanMoof.