Our regular columnist, Verity, is attending an international conference, so we are pleased to welcome back Miss Ettie Kett, expert in modern manners, whose new book, ‘Thank You, please’, will be published by Grateful next year.
I once went to a picnic organised by a bank. You may laugh. Blankets branded with logos, sandwiches in plastic, and a “sharing economy” demonstration in which one could hire a frisbee for a small fee. The very act of sitting on the grass had been commodified.
The trick is always the same. Take what is free or co-created, fence it off, then sell it back at a price.
This is the difference between decent manners and corporate control. A picnic among friends is a commons. The food, laughter and mess are shared. Nobody is charging rent for the cucumber slices. Once the company arrives, however, the commons is enclosed. The grass is theirs. The ants are sponsored. Even the wasps wear corporate colours.
The trick is always the same. Take what is free or co-created, fence it off, then sell it back at a price. Water companies do it with rivers. Social media firms do it with conversation. Tech giants do it with data.
Commoning is not nostalgia; it is essentially good manners. When a flood strikes, neighbours with spades and tea flasks accomplish more than crisis-management consultants. When the power goes out, it is common sense and kindness that keep the lights—figuratively—on. Yet, the corporate instinct is to offer “resilience packages,” which sound suspiciously like selling you your own torch back at twice the price.
I am old enough to remember when The Royal Mail was operated as a public service, not as a courier company sporting patriotic bunting. You knew the postman by name, and if you were away, he might hold a parcel for you. Now, the company parcels you up instead, tracking and tracing not only your letters but also your every click and keystroke.
Convenience extracts. It takes not only money but also trust, agency, and the small rituals of self-governance that keep considerate, well-mannered people connected
Enclosure is subtle. It wears the smile of convenience. “Why run your own allotment when a supermarket can deliver?” “Why organise a lift-share when an app can monetise it for you?” The answer is that convenience extracts. It takes not only money but also trust, agency, and the small rituals of self-governance that keep considerate, well-mannered people connected.
Commoning is not chaos. It has rules, traditions, and even bureaucracy. Ask any parish council. But its essence is that those rules are set by the participants, not from afar. When commons fail, it is often because their governance was weak, not because the idea was flawed. Yet we rarely give them the same indulgence we extend to failing corporations, which are bailed out with public funds and forgiven for their “market adjustments.”
My daughter recently joined a “community energy scheme.” This meant several volunteer engineers in hi-vis jackets poking around our local substation. They explained kilowatt hours to me over weak coffee, and it was oddly reassuring. It reminded me that electricity is not magic delivered by benevolent monopolists, but something that human beings can understand and manage together.
Corporations tell us we are helpless without them. Commons remind us that we are not.
The political winds now speak of “empowering communities.” The same winds carry thick clouds of corporate lobbying. The test will be whether empowerment means the sharing of resources fairly or simply new opportunities for branding exercises.
As for that bank picnic, the branded frisbee flew directly into the river. The company rules forbade swimming after it. But a kind young woman waded in and returned the frisbee to general play. For a moment, the commons had the last laugh.
