Bozen / Quebec City – It is not a particularly novel observation that the twentieth century could be characterised as a period of grand international standardisation. Names such as Henry Ford, McDonald’s or Ikea, to pluck a few names at random, became synonymous with global uniformity. This is true in whichever market sector we look at. In fact recently a friend posted a photo on Facebook showing a commercial shopping area in an unnamed city, then asked us to guess the location. It was an almost impossible task. Judging by the shop fronts, it could have been anywhere in the developed world.
Yet over the past decades there has been a discernible shift away from one-size-fits-all. In the infancy of the twenty-first century, there appears to be a rediscovery of the local, the peculiar and the distinctive. We do not even need to look very far for examples, as here in South Tyrol many are taking advantage of the commercial opportunities that such a shift offers. There are centuries-old gastronomic specialities, traditionally destined only for local markets, which are turning up in the most surprising places. We see Speck enjoyed in China or Lagrein on the shelves in the United States.
We also have the many special markets and festivals which are enormously popular, especially if we use trying to find parking during these events as an indicator.
The classic example is of course the Christmas Market, where people travel great distances to drink mulled wine, wander the picturesque city centre and hand over their hard-earned cash for that locally-crafted something special to bring home.
Although we are now accustomed to this annual event, it may come as a surprise to learn that the Christkindlmarkt has also become a fixture in Birmingham, the UK’s second city (although Manchester might well argue with that last part of that statement). I consciously use the German name, since it is a German Christmas market that has established itself in the heart of Britain. Everything the German-speaking world might have to offer can be found there: Glühwein, Würstl, Krapfen and Zelten!
What is interesting is that these developments are not confined to South Tyrol or indeed Europe. Across the pond, as the Atlantic Ocean is euphemistically referred to, this has not gone unnoticed by the watchful eye of Professor Monica Heller. Heller, a Canadian and president-elect of the prestigious American Anthropological Association, has been studying such phenomena for three decades. Although the bulk of her research focuses on Francophone Canada, this has taken her far and wide as she charts the growth in the marketability of “the local”.
When she began, thirty years ago, she spent her time looking at a part of the world rife with ethnic and linguistic tension, where being a French-speaking Canadian meant that you had de facto limited access to many areas of the economy. For the overwhelming majority, being a French-speaker in Canada meant there were only a narrow range of employment opportunities: usually farming or factory work.
Over the years, as she meticulously collected her data, she noticed gradual changes. The traditional Francophone economic base of agriculture, timber, and in some places tobacco, went into a catastrophic decline. Initially, this prompted an exodus of French-speakers to the more affluent English-speaking regions in the search for employment.
This economic vacuum also had another effect. Filling the void, local SMEs (small to medium-sized enterprises) began to appear. For example land on which tobacco had been cultivated was converted to fruit orchards and even vineyards. “Boutique” dairies began to produce gourmet cheeses. Although largely related to food and drink, following these came an expansion in traditional textiles and natural beauty products. Fortunately for Francophone Canada, this coincided with an increase in high-end tourism from the United States, Germany, Russia and especially France.
This was also a period in which the politics of identity became more visible. Cultural associations either began or reinvented festivals to celebrate French-Canadian identity. These proved a startling success which attracted locals, English-speaking Canadians and the tourists who were arriving from all over the world.
Not only did these festivals deliver a well-needed injection of cash into the local economy, they also provided these new local SMEs with the ideal opportunity in which to raise their market profile. Within a few short years, local entrepreneurs realised that they needed to look outside their own geographic boundaries if they wanted to grow.
As a result, some of these companies began having a presence at international trade fairs but also markets and festivals, especially in French-speaking European locations including Paris or Strasbourg.
A key element in their success was not simply the quality of the cheese or the textiles, but something far less tangible: authenticity. Shoppers liked the idea of buying a little piece of “real” French Canada, sold to them by someone who spoke and looked like a “real” French Canadian.
What Heller found curious was that often the products were not ones which Canadians would necessarily consider traditional. Here the important factor was the perception that products were, in some way, the real McCoy.
These ideas would prove unsurprising to anyone in marketing or related professions, focussing as they do on the intangible product. What is interesting is that for the twentieth century, this often meant connecting with global tastes and standards. What has been happening in our century, as the Canadian example shows, is that space is being created for the authentically local.
So while it would be foolhardy to sound the death knell for global giants, the indications from French Canada suggest potential for some of South Tyrol’s finest traditional products in places far beyond our borders.
