Just a matter of timing: Why the Kondo method is too simplistic

Congratulations if you’ve never heard of Marie Kondo or “the Japanese art of decluttering and organising”. You are one of the few human beings on the planet who is still able to live without angst amongst the friendly jumble of belongings that constitutes a home. You don’t interrogate each item you possess until it’s a blubbering wreck and dispatch it as soon as it confesses that it doesn’t “bring you joy.” Neither do you perform origami on your remaining possessions and keep them crammed into a shoe box.

And it’s unlikely that you have a stash of Kondo’s tidy-porn under your bed although since her original book in 2012, Kondo has produced enough sequels to topple the average domestic bookshelf. There’s an “illustrated master class” with instructions on how to fold everything including your socks, a workbook and a journal and a manga style graphic novel on the life-changing properties of being neat and tidy. And now she’s cluttering our screens with her own Netflix show, in which, with the assistance of an interpreter, she is “revolutionising homes and lives” across America.

Sweet-faced and obsequious, the diminutive Kondo must nonetheless have a will of iron: no one gets to be named by Time magazine as one of the world’s 100 most influential people – for tidying! – without extraordinary drive. Even as a child Kondo had a peculiarly un-childlike devotion to tidiness, and admits that as a young woman she became so devoted to tidying that she had “a kind of nervous breakdown and fainted”. This suggests that Kondo’s true brilliance lies not in her penchant for tidying, but in her ability to transform her obsessive compulsive disorder into a multimillion-dollar business. I admit to envying Kondo in this regard: I’ve failed completely to monetise my neuroses in spite of decades of effort.

Perfect timing is also part of Kondo’s genius. She introduced her Zen-inflected message to discard and simplify just as the true and appalling cost of unbridled consumerism became apparent to Westerners.

In spite of her business acumen, I think Kondo’s criteria for keeping or discarding possessions is a little simplistic and lacks nuance. Utilitarian objects for example, rarely bring joy but are necessary to joy. Take the humble potato masher. In itself, a potato masher does not bring joy. However a heap of mashed potatoes, lightly salted, with a knob of butter melting on top does. Therefore when interrogating things like heat pumps, letterboxes and analgesics the proper question would be “Although you don’t bring me joy now, will you bring me joy (or relief from suffering) in the future?”

The same question must be asked of that awful kitchen drawer which contains lengths of string, used wrapping paper, loose screws, mouse traps and squeezed tubes of glue. This drawer won’t bring joy until sometime in the future when all that stands between you and a completed project is a cotton reel and a thumbtack.

There are things which bring instantaneous joy but are harbingers of future regret, self-reproach and possibly death: a packet of fags, an extra slice of cheesecake, a Harley Davidson. The question in this case should be “Can I accept a reduced life expectancy as the cost of the joy you bring now?”

Then there are things which can bring great joy – a lover 20 years your junior, or a dog for example – but which also involve expense and awkward moments. I’m often joyous in the company of my dog even though the relationship involves picking up her excrement in full view of my fellow citizens, paying vet bills and a carpet that is fuzzy with dog hair. In this case the question should be “How much public embarrassment, expense, and vacuum cleaning am I willing to exchange for the joy I experience with this object?” Those of you with young lovers may have to reword this question for greater applicability to your situation.

Finally, we must consider a really awkward category – family members. Relationships with parents, spouses, siblings and children can be joyful but they also involve boredom and hard work. The problem is that most of us, with the possible exception of psychopaths and serial killers, would find it difficult to kill off every relative who fails to deliver unmitigated joy.

However, if Kondo is half the genius I think she is, she will already have spotted the money-making potential in a service which gets rid of irritating relatives. In fact she’s probably already established a partnership with the Japanese yakuza who are renowned for their skills and experience in body disposal.

The ultimate test of the utility and influence of Marie Konda’s system will be if the American people apply her trade mark question to the president of the United States: “Does Donald Trump bring joy to the US or the world?” If the answer is no (and how could it possibly be otherwise) concerned citizens should contact Konmari Media LLC and ask for the Yakuza Division.

– This originally appeared on Stuff