Dick presents consumerism as a defining force in his fragmented, dystopian society. The relentless desire to acquire and display one’s status through material possessions, particularly animals, illustrates how consumer culture persists even in the face of environmental and societal collapse. In the novel, owning real animals becomes the ultimate marker of prestige and humanity, reflecting the importance placed on commodities. Rick Deckard’s electric sheep epitomizes the hollowness of consumerism in this world. Although the sheep provides him with a veneer of status, Rick feels deeply ashamed of its artificiality, yearning for a real animal to validate his social worth and personal fulfillment. This desire drives his bounty-hunting efforts, as he sees his earnings as a means to purchase a genuine animal. The commodification of animals diminishes their intrinsic value, as they become status symbols rather than objects of empathy.
The novel also critiques consumer culture through the portrayal of artificial goods, such as mood-altering devices like the Penfield mood organ. These products simulate experiences that once occurred naturally, emphasizing how consumption has supplanted authentic existence. Even Mercerism, a spiritual system, exists alongside the pervasive influence of commercialism—followers need an empathy box to tune in and commune with Mercer himself and with other followers of the religion. Ultimately, Dick presents consumerism as both a coping mechanism and a source of alienation. While the pursuit of material possessions offers temporary solace in a cold and unfeeling world, the novel also suggests that the constant struggle to buy more and better items deprives life of meaning—it’s impossible, in this consumerist system, to ever feel fulfilled.
Consumerism ThemeTracker
Consumerism Quotes in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
He thought, too, about his need for a real animal; within him an actual hatred once more manifested itself toward his electric sheep, which he had to tend, had to care about, as if it lived. The tyranny of an object, he thought. It doesn’t know I exist. Like the androids, it had no ability to appreciate the existence of another. He had never thought of this before, the similarity between an electric animal and an andy. The electric animal, he pondered, could be considered a subform of the other, a kind of vastly inferior robot. Or, conversely, the android could be regarded as a highly developed, evolved version of the ersatz animal. Both viewpoints repelled him.
He could not make out, even now, how the Rosen Association had managed to snare him, and so easily. Experts, he realized. A mammoth corporation like this—it embodies too much experience. It possesses in fact a sort of group mind. And Eldon and Rachael Rosen consisted of spokesmen for that corporate entity. His mistake, evidently, had been in viewing them as individuals. It was a mistake he would not make again.
The salesman, undaunted, continued, “A goat is loyal. And it has a free, natural soul which no cage can chain up. And there is one exceptional additional feature about goats, one which you may not be aware of. Often times when you invest in an animal and take it home you find, some morning, that it’s eaten something radioactive and died. A goat isn’t bothered by contaminated quasi-foodstuffs; it can eat eclectically, even items that would fell a cow or a horse or most especially a cat. As a long term investment we feel that the goat—especially the female—offers unbeatable advantages to the serious animal-owner.”