Is choice truly advantageous?

It frequently feels as though our purpose on this planet is to make choices. Paper or plastic? Coke or Pepsi? “Have it your way,” beckons Burger King. In heated policy discussions, both Democrats and Republicans utilize the rhetoric of choice to champion their respective viewpoints — pro-choice, school choice. Choice is a clear-cut advantage, intertwined with modern concepts of liberty.

This sort of omnipresent notion captivates Sophia Rosenfeld, Ph.D. ’96, a history professor at the University of Pennsylvania. After penning texts on the lineage of common sense and truth, Rosenfeld ventured into the realm of choice. “It occurred to me as something significantly crucial that we seldom addressed,” she remarked. “However, it served as a unifying factor, in numerous ways, for the intersection of capitalist culture and democratic ideals.”

In “The Age of Choice,” Rosenfeld navigates the winding journey of choice towards popularity and acceptance. She underscores that limitless choice was not always regarded as the inherent norm — and speculates on why, if it is meant to be liberating, it can frequently appear so onerous.

The tale of Adam and Eve, for instance, does not serve as an endorsement of the liberating, potent essence of choice. Likewise, Rosenfeld highlights that the parable of Achilles’ deliberation between a lengthy life or a noble demise illustrates a situation where “decision making boiled down to two, unequal options.”

She cites works by Sylvia Plath, Margaret Wilkerson Sexton, and Frances Burney to trace the increasing link between “choice-making and the formation of an independent, free self.”

In Rosenfeld’s perspective, consumer culture ushered in eras where choice became ever more vital to social, economic, and political existence. The opening chapter explores the roots of “shopping,” a once-innovative experience introduced by 18th-century British auctioneers.

The foremost of these auctioneers, Mr. Cock, pioneered a method of selling non-essential items that transformed inventory clearance into a social affair, allowing participants to browse “choice” goods and exhibit their discerning abilities. Rather than customers arriving at a market with specific needs, Mr. Cock prompted them to perceive “shopping” as a distinct pastime.

The practice proliferated, Rosenfeld notes: “[C]onsumers were consistently informed by the mid-eighteenth century that they would face circumstances where abundant ‘choices’ or ‘a great Choice’ or ‘the greatest of choices’ would be at their disposal, but also expected of them.”

The significance of choice transitioned from consumer experiences to social and political realms, often in ways that Rosenfeld acknowledges as beneficial.

Political movements advocating for women’s suffrage, Civil Rights, and direct representation derive, in part, from a society accustomed to a broadened perception of personal choice. Throughout various chapters, Rosenfeld elucidates how these evolving norms cultivated the freedom to choose one’s religion, partner, and publicly elected officials in increasingly personal manners.

These inquiries unveil unexpected roots of contemporary political and social behaviors.

Rosenfeld asserts that the standard mode of voting in the U.S.— congregating in a communal space only to cast a vote privately — stems from a shifting conception of personal choice. Whereas many American and English men once perceived voting as an individual act of personal inclination as inappropriate, the rising dominance of individual choice contributed to a transition from public, often consensus-based voting towards private ballots.

Throughout “The Age of Choice,” Rosenfeld contests the belief that increasing the range of options was universally perceived as a method to provide individuals with greater freedom.

By recounting the evolution of choice perception, she also unveils how, even within a broadly choice-empowered society, there exist frameworks and historical precedents that shape our decisions. While Americans take pride in their ability to choose, few challenge regulations against, for instance, opting to sell a kidney for profit.

In a similar vein, Rosenfeld contends that more options do not inherently equate to greater freedom. Selecting one brand of toothpaste over several others may be a trivial choice, but having a plethora of unregulated, ineffective toothpaste alternatives would render that decision frustrating.

At times, Rosenfeld believes, the American focus on choice hinders the imagination of political actions that necessitate not just individual decisions, but collective efforts. Instead of navigating between multiple healthcare plans laden with unpredictable variables, she asserts, “Many of us might feel better off with a single, effective plan.” Achieving that would demand more than mere selection.

Rosenfeld is less preoccupied with the drawbacks of choice, however, and more fascinated by how it is often taken for granted. Choice has already triumphed. But when we express a desire for choice, what do we genuinely seek?