In the late thirteenth century, the English King Edward I
constructed an imposing string of castles along the English-Welsh
border to provide him with a means of monitoring, intimidating and
subjugating the people of Wales. State of the art in military
architecture at the time, they were thoroughly successful in
accomplishing Edward’s purpose, although the cost of construction
and maintenance was ruinous and their success was fleeting.
In the late thirteenth century, the English King Edward I constructed an imposing string of castles along the English-Welsh border to provide him with a means of monitoring, intimidating and subjugating the people of Wales. State of the art in military architecture at the time, they were thoroughly successful in accomplishing Edward’s purpose, although the cost of construction and maintenance was ruinous and their success was fleeting.
Long before natural decay could set in, the fortifications were rendered functionally obsolete by the development of large catapults and artillery pieces capable of battering even the strongest stone walls into picturesque rubble, and there they have sat ever since, providing tourists with spectacular photographic views and the occasional movie production with ready-made location sets.
It is becoming apparent that a quite similar phenomenon has taken place in our age, but since technological obsolescence now occurs at a much faster pace we can see it coming and perhaps plan for it as medieval monarchs did not.
I am of course talking about the vast and impressive citadels which currently dot our landscape like the fortresses of old, keeping watch over us as we go about our daily commerce, luring us inside their battlements, and fleecing us of our wealth at every carefully-crafted opportunity even as they provide us with safety, comfort, and entertainment for ourselves and our children.
That’s right: The Mall.
Even though lacking in crenellated parapets, arrow slits, or drawbridges, the modern mall is equally imposing and more than a little intimidating in its sheer immensity, its sense-saturating color and sound, not to mention the unique aroma of its obligatory food court (whose very name is apropos) from which emanates an unholy alliance of fragrances from global comestibles each vying for olfactory dominance until one can’t quite decide between eating everything in the place and just going somewhere quiet to hurl.
But what the trebuchet and the heavy mortar did to the finest feudal strongholds is now being done to the fortresses of consumerism we have barely had time to get used to. Their glitzy facades and inviting neon displays are being bombarded without mercy by the forces of Internet commerce, and their eventual surrender can already be seen as a foregone conclusion.
As the habit takes hold on more and more shoppers it becomes clear that we like to browse and purchase while sitting in front of a computer screen. We like to comparison shop between websites; we like to have products shipped to us or directly to those for whom we buy gifts; we like avoiding the driving and parking and schlepping and the headaches we get from the mall’s constant ungodly racket, and we will only like it more and more as time goes by.
Which will inevitably leave us with all these enormous artifacts of impulse acquisition lying around the countryside like beached whales, representing an investment of untold billions and taking up hectares of valuable space while their former population sits at home mesmerized by a flickering computer monitor, keeping the economy humming without leaving the room.
Then what will we do with them? Will tourists want to come and take photographs? Will they become our age’s equivalent of the pyramids or Stonehenge, charming enigmatic ruins of a vanished culture?
Personally, I doubt it; when all is said and done a mall is a tarted-up but still-tacky bazaar, a middle-Eastern suq with better lighting, and nowadays one of its major purposes is providing a place for kids to hang out in a semi-controlled environment. So I say let’s have them do what they’re best at even while we’re shopping in our dens.
Let them be the amusement parks of the future. I mean, how many roller coasters can you ride on? Surely the standard model amusement park is in its sunset years; let’s replace Fantasyland and Epcot Center with The Shopping Experience. Young folks can pretend they’re back in 2008 when people shopped in person. Fully-stocked stores; browse all you want, exercise your imagination. Try things on, pick what you like, and stand in line, then when you get to the cashier you hand the stuff back. Think of it as the world’s most comprehensive return policy. No money changes hands; your admission price entitles you to shop all day. Only the food court is real, because so far we haven’t found a way to eat fast food online.
I mean, they’re so big and shiny; there must be some use for them.
Despite being an award-winning columnist, Robert Mitchell doggedly remains the same eccentric attorney who has practiced general law in Morgan Hill for more than 30 years. Reach him at r.****@*****on.net.
