Fall

Growth & Its Alternatives

VCI T-shirt, Old singlet, Box of crayons, Hurricane pin, Apple headphones, ASICS trainers, Purse, Wine dog shirt, Notorious RBG Shirt, Team regionals shirt, Long dark blue skirt, Long brown skirt, Long light blue skirt, Long pink skirt, Plastic spider and snake, Opal tragus earring, Winter Hat, East African Animal ID book, Taylor Swift Karaoke CD, Cotton basketball shorts, Jean jacket, Sealant, 4 wine glasses, Croakies, Swahili dictionary, Water purifier, 4 coasters, Sink stopper, White shirt, Vegetable grater, Pilot G2 4 pack pens, Swiss Army knife, Vinyl decal, Tide to go, Strainer, Set of 3 pack towels, Big fuzzy robe, Purple earrings, White running hat, Binoculars, Little Fires Everywhere, Celeste Ng, Bowl, Backpack, Lighter, Inhaler, Spacer

What is “Free” in a Growth Economy?

It is interesting to consider which items on my list overall that I considered “free” or a “gift.” I distinguished between what I paid for, what I found or acquired, and what was given to me. This points to a bit of my own moral calculus of the relative environmental impact of each item. Noting the price of the items is an odd distinction to make environmentally, as the ecosystem doesn’t care whether I bought something or my mother did, and it especially doesn’t care if I then feel bad about not paying out of pocket for something that is environmentally harmful. There is a difference, however, in my engagement with capitalism at the times I managed to subvert it. For example, the Vassar singlet I got in the fall was an old team jersey that my coach was giving away rather than tossing, and I got the crayons after they were used at an ecology event at the Vassar Barns. Reusing and recycling are not only useful environmental practices, but they also have important social implications too, as they counter traditional consumer-capitalist behavior and promote sharing and community, aspects important to local sustainability.

The difference between what I list as “free” or a “gift” is interesting, too, as “free” things come from an unknown source whereas “gifts” come from someone specific, most likely someone I know and love, making the financial aspect less important than the bond strengthened through gift-giving. I think love and friendship can be radical acts in the face of capitalism and climate change, and they help build stronger more sustainable communities. I’d like to talk about what it really means for something to be “free” under capitalism to show how externalities, profit margins, and growth are built into our economic system. I’d also like to begin to offer some alternatives to capitalism that might help contribute to a less wasteful system of living, including the degrowth movement.

They say there’s no such thing as a free lunch, and that adage is helpful to explain that under capitalism, someone pays for everything, either through the “opportunity cost” or through externalities. I have only ever taken one economics class (back in 2017!), so bear with me, but externalities are the invisible costs that are not built into the price on a tag. Externalities are important in environmental economics, because often the expense of this unpaid cost is thrust upon the environment through pollution, carbon emissions, or loss of natural beauty. Though I am not a huge fan of assigning monetary value to nature, as if humans have such authority in the first place, the concept of the externality gives us a window to consider the unplanned consequences of capitalism, and allows us to think about who might end up “paying” for these costs the most.

Our economy is based on growth. A growing GDP and economy are pretty much unilaterally phrased as positive things, at least in political discourse. In order for a corporation to make a profit it must charge the consumer more than the cost of production. This has set up an economy which goes through phases of economic growth coupled with depressions like those in the 1930s and early 2000s The growth economy is criticized by anti-capitalists and feminists due to its reliance on exploitative environmental and social practices. Authors J. K. Gibson-Graham (Katherine Gibson and Julie Graham) are known for their post-capitalist theory, and have proposed “diverse economies” and “community economies” as local alternatives to capitalism. They explain that some of these practices are already underway, including:

fair-trade networks, … farmers’ markets and farm-share arrangements, …employee buyouts in the face of corporate abandonment, … the antisweatshop movement, … shareholder movements that use their financial clout to promote ethical investments and police the enforcement of corporate environmental and social responsibility, … the living wage movements in large North American cities, … universal basic income, … [and] social entrepreneurship in which nonprofit enterprises provide social services at affordable rates and commit to employing community members who are excluded from other labor markets.

These alternatives seek to amend or replace capitalism on local and global scales, and be diverse and suitable to the location and situation to which they are applied. The authors also write:

these approaches promote community-owned enterprises focused on import replacement activities, the marshaling of local finance and its recycling within the locality, and increasing harmony with nature. Economic difference is tolerated within a range of community-oriented enterprises (locally owned businesses, nonprofits, cooperatives, community-development corporations, employee-owned businesses) and proponents differ on whether there is room for state-run business or state involvement, such as support for social enterprises, in their visions of self-reliance. The shared ethic that underlies these community economic development programs privileges care of the local community and its environment.

A similar idea is expressed by feminist theorist Isabelle Stengers, who pushes us to move even further beyond just escaping the growth model, saying, “The idea that this type of development, which has growth as its motor, could repair what it has itself contributed to creating is not dead but has lost all obviousness. … What we know now is that if we grit our teeth and continue to have confidence in economic growth, we are going, as one says, straight to the wall.” Stengers argues that we have already moved past this first stage of recognition of the faults of the growth economy and the denial of climate change into a second stage, “that of the new grand narrative in which Man becomes conscious of the fact that his activities transform the earth … and that he must therefore take responsibility for the future of the planet.” This second stage is equally if not more disturbing, as it can easy transform into a call to geoengineering and other ill-planned technological fixes.

Questions of capitalism and the growth economy are likely ones that influence zero-wasters, who have taken it upon themselves to limit their own consumption. Stengers addresses this as well:

One knows that new messages are already reaching the unfortunate consumer, who was supposed to have confidence in economic growth but who is now equally invited to measure his or her ecological footprint, that is to say, to recognize the irresponsible and selfish character of his or her mode of consumption. One hears it asserted that it will be necessary to “change our way of life.” There is an appeal to goodwill at all levels but the disarray of politicians is almost palpable. How is one to maintain the imperative of “freeing economic growth,” of “winning” in the grand economic competition, while the future will define this type of growth as irresponsible, even criminal?

I think what Stengers is getting at here is the paradox that capitalism blames individuals for their immoral consumption habits in an effort to obscure the ways the system has waste built into its very mechanics. Humans are the arbiters of capitalism, so we do have the responsibility of moving past it; however, this change cannot be executed alone without communal effort. Zero-wasters fall into the category of “ethical” consumers — they may not consume single-use plastic, but the logic of the movement is based on personal choices having an impact on global climate change. I think Stengers would agree that this individualization of a capitalist-led phenomenon, as well as the language of choice, obscure ways in which we may think outside capitalism as a whole as communities not just individuals.

In this way, the degrowth movement can be seen as a collective version of the zero waste movement. Popularized in France in the 1970s, degrowth was a response to the linear growth economy that is intrinsically wasteful. Degrowth emphasizes local, community-based approaches to resource use and governance. It also counters ideas of sustainable “development;” as Giorgos Kallis explains, “Sustainable degrowth can be defined from an ecological–economic perspective as a socially sustainable and equitable reduction (and eventually stabilisation) of society’s throughput. Throughput refers to the materials and energy a society extracts, processes, transports and distributes, to consume and return back to the environment as waste.” If the zero waste movement were actually to become unified as a movement, it may start to address some of the issues caused by capitalism and climate change. All of the pieces are there; however, it has stagnated as sadly just another form of neoliberal eco-consciousness that will not result in environmental justice for more than just a few. On its own, zero waste will have zero effect.

Packing Up

An ethics in place can be sparked by the human desire for surprise, for play, for the possibility of becoming, by realizing it is possible for the agency, the activities, the becomings of the nonhuman to recreate a seemingly static site into a place of energy and transformation. Art and architecture that take account of the crossings between human and nonhuman can help us resist the narrow scripting of our lives in which we tread the well-worn paths of work and consumerism. By relinquishing a sense of mastery and instead opening up ourselves and our living, working, and public spaces to the agency, the actions, the memories, and the pleasures of the nonhuman, we can dwell within abundantly inhabited places of transformation.

Here, Stacy Alaimo refers to the ways that affective responses to our relationships with nature can be used in to build a transformative environmental ethics, a commitment I share in this project. In every critique I received in drafting this project, I was told it was funny, humorous, or lively. That’s what caught people first. I hope you’ve enjoyed parts of what you’ve read, or even laughed with or at me! I think that emotional response is just as important as an intellectual response because environmentalism concerns our lives in a way that you can feel. Deep in your gut or somewhere beyond that. That emotional connection drew me to the field in the first place, and it informs my ethics and actions in my body as much as my mind. I don’t think we should shy away from that gut pull toward the Earth, toward each other, toward plants and animals, toward water and sunshine. That’s the kind of love that gives us the strength to think radically about how we treat one another and our surroundings. There is a lot of space for love, heart, joy, fun, and celebration in environmentalism, and I lean into that.

I hope by revealing so much about myself I helped illuminate some of the bigger issues in environmentalism that a “zero waste” lifestyle obscures. Although individual choices are a starting point into environmentalism, they cannot be the primary mode of environmental justice, which requires communal action and modes of thinking beyond capitalism and upholding our responsibilities to one another with love, humility, and even joy. This project is also distinct from the zero waste movement, as it is not making any normative claims that leading a more ethical, eco-conscious lifestyle is somehow solve the world’s ecological problems. I don’t think my lifestyle choices (or any one person’s) will do that. Let alone the fact that most people don’t have the time and money to commit to such a drastic lifestyle change. Don’t get me wrong: I understand the urge to do something, and often our own lives are the easiest place to start. Considering the complicated web that brough about climate catastrophe is overwhelming.

Environmentalism can get a little heavy. Eco-anxiety can lead to eco-depression pretty quickly. There’s a reason the suicide rate among farmers in the United States is the highest of any occupation. It is hard to work that closely with the land and recognize so poignantly how changes in the climate are out of human control. Many of the issues I have mulled over in the course of this project have contributed to a similar sense of existential dread. The pressure to do something about climate change is ever-present, especially for those of us who have chosen to make careers and livelihoods out of it. I can tell you we’re not doing it for the money. There’s an emotional pull in environmentalism that has the capacity both to make you depressed, and to let you rejoice the fact that you get to share a little bit of this planet.

Here’s the thing: we’re not going to “save” the Earth. Cataloging every piece of plastic you throw out or every piece of shit you accumulate pretty much only serves to perpetuate the idea that individual choices are the solution to our little conundrum. Alternately, a global “solution” to geoengineer our clouds to reflect out heat is just as bad. In fact, the Earth isn’t dying at all — we are. That “we” includes humans, but also the non-human beings that make life possible and worth living. The Earth will be just fine without humans, but our demise is tied up with the relationships with non-humans that we’ve let go in pursuit of progress. As long as we’re going down, we might as well salvage some of the good in ourselves and in our relationships with our plant, animal, fungi, rock, and other friends. So treat each other well and don’t be racist or sexist and pet your dogs and dismantle capitalism/colonialism and thank your microbiome for keeping you alive and try to find friendship, love, and joy when you can. And follow all those R’s: refuse, reduce, reuse, repair, recycle, rot. But I wouldn’t worry too much about trying to be “zero” anything. Instead let’s embrace multiplicity, plurality, and hybridity, and rejoice (an important “R”) in those differences. Let’s enjoy our time and make it enjoyable for others because we’re living in a pretty cool sliver of the past 4.6 billion years.