I am the zen minimalist monk. The gods of capitalism look upon my few possessions and weep. There’s a place for everything, and everything’s in its place. Crucially; there’s no room for anything else. I’ve won. The neoliberal hegemony has lost. Hah!

…oh but I would love to upgrade my headphone amp. Maybe I could justify it if I also got a new pair of headphones for work… then my existing amp wouldn’t go to waste. It would be nice to get a new screen for my computer too while I’m at it. And I really need a new phone. Some better cycling shoes. Another pair of headphones for the gym. A new bag. Some new tea ware for the office. A new keyboard. Ahh and then I’ll post pictures of my new stuff to reddit to rapturous applause. Look how neatly it’s arranged on my desk. Let’s throw out this blender too because I never use it. I’ll replace it with a proper food processor next month. Then I’ll use it. I’m such a minimalist.

I’m not a minimalist at all am I? I’m just as obsessed with stuff as everyone else. The consumption driven sheeple I publicly deride. I only have one pair of jeans and all my t-shirts are block colours… but why do I have three keyboards?!

I realised this to my horror the other day after placing an order for the above mentioned headphone amp and then having a long chat with my significant other about it. The order was cancelled and I had some serious introspection to do. I had discovered a source of conflict between two philosophies that I held, and I needed to sort out that conflict.

The first is minimalism, lifestyle rather than artistic, of the if it doesn’t spark joy get rid of it ilk. There’s a great deal of satisfaction to be derived from eliminating unnecessary stuff from one’s life. Not only physical possessions; but bad habits, unnecessary commitments, damaging relationships. The particular brand of minimalism that appeals to me the most has a political, anti-capitalist and environmental bent. Trying to avoid the wastefulness of modern society as much as is practical.

The second is what, for lack of a better word, we’ll call upgradeism. The constant desire to upgrade everything about your self and your environment. Clearly self improvement on a personal internal level is great; the problem comes when we apply the same desire for improvement to the objects that surround us. When we start to think of them as extensions of our self rather than tools. “Be happy with what you’ve got” sounds cliché but it’s impossible if you are always thinking about the next improvement you could make.

Upgradeism is a philosophy that I held subconsciously until I noticed it. And I’m convinced the conflict with minimalism has been a major cause of friction in my life for some time now. Cancelling that order for the new headphone amp and deciding I was happy with my headphones as they were was a weirdly liberating feeling. Sometimes deciding to not buy something can be more rewarding than upgrading.

The negative face of upgradeism manifests itself in other areas of my life too. I spend hours over optimising my computer, my organisational process, my habits and routines. As illustrated repeatedly by xkcd there comes a point where the time spent optimising, or upgrading, is not worth the time put in to get there.

In light of this I now make a conscious effort to follow any urge to upgrade with: is the improvement over what I’ve got now really going to be worth it? Remarkably often, the answer seems to be a resounding no.

This conflict between two philosophies fits in to a more general concept. A friend of mine often talks about the idea that you can only have one dogma, by which I think he essentially means only one life philosophy. Only one goal you’re really working towards; lest they tread on one another’s toes. I’m not sure I fully agree but I do think you can’t have more than one overlapping philosophy. You can have different philosophies that apply to different parts of your life, but as soon as you have two overlapping and competing philosophies — like minimalism and upgradeism — you will be forced to repeatedly choose between them. Whatever you choose at each juncture, it will always feel somehow wrong, since you will be going against one of your goals. One of them has to go.