chapter two
Status Symbols and Luxury Goods
in International Relations
sir humphrey: Don’t you believe that Great Britain should have the best?
jim hacker: Yes, of course.
sir humphrey: Very well, if you walked into a nuclear missile showroom you
would buy Trident — it’s lovely, it’s elegant, it’s beautiful. It is quite simply the
best. And Britain should have the best. In the world of the nuclear missile it is
the Saville Row suit, the Rolls Royce Corniche, the Château Lafitte 1945. It is
the nuclear missile Harrods would sell you. What more can I say?
jim hacker: Only that it costs £ 15 billion and we don’t need it.
sir humphrey: Well, you can say that about anything at Harrods.
(Lynn and Jay 1986 )
I
n this scene from the British comedy series Yes Prime Minister, the
writers satirize the political process that led to the procurement of the
controversial Trident nuclear program. The £ 15 billion program is com
pared to other luxury goods — things we may want to own for prestige rea
sons but do not really need. The appeal of Trident should be apparent to
anyone walking into “a nuclear missile showroom” just as the appeal of
a Rolls Royce should be apparent to anyone walking into a luxury car
dealership. In this chapter I explore this analogy in more detail: how do
states know what goods to buy at the international “Harrods” of status
symbols? What makes for an appealing and effective international status
symbol? If in the previous chapter I focused on identifying the motiva
tions for conspicuous consumption and the most likely actors to become
conspicuous consumers, in this chapter I concentrate on identifying in
ternational luxury goods. The dynamics of conspicuous consumption —
costly signals, invidious comparison, and pecuniary emulation — generate