Atlas's chakras out of whack?

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Yoga is made more comfortable with Lululemon mats. (ROSS HAILEY / FORT WORTH STAR-TELEGRAM/MCT)

222And why is his name suddenly appearing on the shopping bags of Lululemon, the Vancouver-based purveyor of pricey yoga gear?

John Galt is the world-conquering industrialist hero of Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand's melodramatic mash note to unfettered free-market capitalism. A favourite tome on the libertarian library shelf and a Glenn Beck must-read, this 1957 novel -- complete with Galt's turgid 90-page speech denouncing altruism and advocating radical self-interest -- seems like an odd fit for the yoga set.

But that's what happens when you start mixing consumerism and philosophy. As our culture increasingly gets its metaphysics from Starbucks cups and its ethics from insurance company commercials, we're bound to run into contradictions.

Lululemon has been extremely successful since its 1998 inception, having done some undeniably spectacular stuff with stretchy, moisture-wicking material. But selling ass-flattering leggings isn't enough for CEO Chip Wilson. He wants to promote a worldview.

Lately, the company's sense of its moral authority has become increasingly intrusive and creepy. Lululemon puts out manifestos, once associated with Italian Futurists, Danish filmmakers and French anarchists but now part of a comprehensive 21st-century corporate strategy. A mushy mix of motivational phrases and pseudo-science, Lululemon's shopping-bag manifesto combines the pushy ("Do not use cleaning chemicals on your kitchen counters"), the preachy ("Living in the moment could be the meaning of life"), and the poorly phrased ("Children are the orgasm of life").

Selling self-actualization along with flat-seamed tech-fabric workout tanks, Lululemon moves beyond branding to what one industry commentator calls "culting." With culting, companies try to turn customers into true believers. People feel they are not just purchasing a product; they are joining a community, sharing a belief system, identifying with a certain set of values.

But do most yoga practitioners want to identify with the values of Ayn Rand? Rand's Objectivist philosophy champions selfish individualism and disdains compassion and community, viewing them as the pathetic refuge of parasites. Combine Objectivism with an ancient Eastern discipline and $92 yoga pants and you get a seemingly unworkable mix of loony libertarianism, ascetic spiritualism and mad materialism.

And Rand is a pretty polarizing symbol to foist onto a shopping bag. Fans regard her work as life-changing. Detractors consider her a pulp writer and hack philosopher. ("A fifth-rate Nietzsche," snipes one critic.)

So far, CEO Wilson hasn't taken a public stand on his controversial decision, but the company blog features a young employee's adorable C-plus-first-year-philosophy essay defence of the John Galt reference. According to her blog entry, it's all about "elevating the world from mediocrity to greatness" and leading your dream life with the help of goal-setting and free will.

Well, going by the comments that follow the blog -- and there are about a zillion of them -- many customers will soon be using their free will to boycott Lululemon stores. Meanwhile, an unexpected cadre of right-wing yogis is lauding the company for risking a "meaningful marketing campaign."

In the end, shopping malls and retail websites seem like strange places to debate the Big Ideas.

As a fairly contented member of the mediocre herd, I'm not a Rand fan, and I don't want to carry a shopping bag that advertises her 1,300-page ideological epic. In fact, I don't even want to carry a shopping bag with a political slogan that I endorse. When I go to the mall, I want cashmere sweaters and nice soap. If I want ideas, I'll go to the library.

alison.gillmor@freepress.mb.ca

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition December 5, 2011 G6