Review: Love in the Age of Ecological Apocalypse by Carolyn Baker

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Love in the Age of Ecological Apocalypse: Cultivating the Relationships We Need to Thrive

Written by Community Solutions Conference Speaker, Carolyn Baker

229 pp. North Atlantic Books – Mar. 2015. $16.95.

Reviewed by Frank Kaminski

Dr. Carolyn Baker is a profound thinker on the predicament of modern industrial civilization who comes at the subject from an invaluable perspective. Whereas many of her contemporaries focus only on the logistical details of collapse preparation, she draws on a background in psychology and psychotherapy to address how we should prepare emotionally and spiritually for what is ahead. Since about 15 years ago, when she first became aware of our resources crisis, she has devoted her life to helping others make what she calls the "inner transition." She's written books, spoken internationally, conducted workshops, life coached, hosted a radio show and otherwise made herself an indispensable resource to those seeking guidance through the terrain of inner transition.

In her latest book, titled Love in the Age of Ecological Apocalypse, Baker surveys 16 relationships that she's found to be basic to human well-being but sorely in need of tending right now. They range from the obvious examples of romantic love, friendship and parent-child relationships, to the links that connect humans to all other life forms and the ties each person has to the "psychic darkness" of his or her inner shadow (to use terms from Jungian psychology). Perhaps the best indication of how broadly Baker defines love relationships is an epigraph at the beginning of the book attributed to theologian and author Father Richard Rohr: "All of creation is relationship."

Even so, the type of relationship most people will think of when they first pick up the book is that between romantic partners. The cover image, which shows a young man and woman embracing tightly as they survey a bleak, smoking industrial landscape, suggests a sense of solace in the company of a significant other. Thus it's appropriate that the first chapter deals with loving, living and preparing with a life partner. Specifically, it is about doing these things with a reluctant partner.

Baker has a great deal of wisdom when it comes to this all-too-familiar dilemma for collapse preppers and those who love them. She's helped many couples in this plight either work it out or realize that it can't be resolved, so she knows how agonizing it is for both parties. The prepping partner often feels belittled by his or her non-prepping partner, while the non-prepper is embarrassed by the prepper's seemingly kooky behavior, and can often feel lonely and neglected. The only way to make progress in addressing the situation is for each person to refrain from imposing his or her viewpoint on the other (a futile effort) and instead work on communicating emotions. In her discussion of this process, Baker provides sample scripts and exercises that she's assigned to couples in therapy.

The second type of relationship examined is that between parents and their children. Baker admits that her work has been mostly with adults, but says she's still been able to glean valuable insight into how to introduce children to collapse-related topics through talking with concerned parents. Based on these conversations, as well as research she's done, she has come up with guidelines tailored to different age groups. One fact I found particularly interesting is the tendency of elders to underestimate young people's ability to handle knowledge of harsh realities. Baker quotes one father to the effect that children can deal with serious issues much better than we think they can, and that when we discuss such things with them, it makes them feel we trust them.

The author is a fount of firsthand knowledge on tending relationships with others in a community. Having spent years coaching collapse preppers on cultivating community, and on forming intentional communities in which to weather crisis, she knows well the work required. (For the purposes of her discussion, Baker defines community as "trusted others living in the same vicinity or region.") Baker sagely advises that when first trying to interest fellow community members in preparation efforts, it's best not to talk about peak oil, climate change or any of the other abstract dimensions to our crisis, since these are divisive issues that many people will be unwilling to consider. Instead, try beginning a dialog about how everyone might, say, deal with an emergency situation or reap the economic benefits of an all-solar-powered neighborhood.

In addition to its futility, there's another reason why trying to impose one's views about collapse onto others is a waste of time: It isn't necessary. If you're working to solarize your neighborhood or shift its food supply to local, organic consumption, for example, you don't need everyone involved to agree that without these measures there will be catastrophic electricity and food shortages. You just need to demonstrate what each person has to gain from the effort. Many participants will doubtless be motivated simply by a desire to break their reliance on an aging, overburdened power grid or to eat food free of toxic pesticides, but in the process they'll unwittingly be helping ready the community for the inevitable descent.

The relationships examined so far are ones that most people will be able to relate to easily. Less obvious relationships covered by Baker include those with our bodies, our creative souls, the food and other resources we consume, the beauty around us and the present moment. Baker also looks at human-animal attachments and how people in industrial society relate to loss and grief. On this last front, she argues that our tendency to keep sorrow private has made us a culture suffering from "congestive heart failure," in that our pent-up emotion reduces our capacity for caring and compassion.

Coming to terms with one's mortality is, of course, a classic manifestation of grief, and Baker contends that this is the task now before us as a species facing the prospect of its own near-term extinction (NTE). The case for NTE, driven by runaway climate change, has grown overwhelming in recent years, prompting Baker to recommend the adoption of an "attitude of hospice" in which to prepare for the final phase of our collective earthly existence. Just as many hospice patients report living the most precious parts of their lives at the very end, so too might we all discover unprecedented meaning as we cross over into our mutual abyss.

A longtime scholar of Jungian psychology, Baker draws on Jung's notion of the human shadow in much of her work, including this book. She sums up the shadow as "any part of ourselves we say is not me. We look at an addict and say, 'That's not me,' refusing to recognize that some part of us is or could become an addict." For Baker, getting in touch with one's inner shadow is a crucial part of maintaining harmonious relationships in the external world. The process can be likened to cultivating the internal community within the psyche so as to be better prepared for engaging with the outside community. Among the reasons why shadow work is important is that it makes us less apt to project the dark aspects of ourselves onto others and helps ward against harm from those who may have duplicitous motives–i.e., "shady" parts to their character that would go unnoticed without careful attention to the shadow world.

This book contains many proofs for Baker's tenet that inner work is as important as outer work when preparing for collapse, but one in particular is my favorite. It's an excerpt in which Baker reveals that while her methods have been called "too touchy-feely," the same people who issue this dismissal often come back to her for help when their efforts to do things by other means have failed. For example, people who have disregarded her advice about improving their interpersonal skills have lived to regret it when intentional communities they've attempted to start have come to grief because of communication and conflict resolution issues.

A note is in order on the use of the word apocalypse in the book's title. Today, when people see this word, they usually think of the countless end time scenarios depicted in doomsday films. However, Baker uses the term in its original sense: a disclosure of something previously hidden. She believes we're approaching a rite of passage that will reveal to us our true place in nature, and perhaps even transform us into a new breed of human being. The "Enlightenment Enculturation" that has tricked us into thinking we're separate from nature, by emphasizing logic over intuition and objectifying living systems as "resources," will give way to a truly enlightened perspective. This new outlook will be far more in keeping with the beliefs of indigenous cultures around the world that view all living beings as connected.

My one criticism of Love in the Age of Ecological Apocalypse is that its cover undersells it. The image of two young lovers huddling together amidst calamity is a powerful one, to be sure, but it also invites the misconception that the book deals solely with romantic love. As this review has shown, Baker's focus is vastly more encompassing. Still, I hardly know what would be a better image, and anyway this is a minor quibble with an otherwise insightful and highly accessible book.

If Everyone Lived in an ‘Ecovillage’, the Earth Would Still Be in Trouble

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Written by Community Solutions Fellow, Samuel Alexander

We are used to hearing that if everyone lived in the same way as North Americans or Australians, we would need four or five planet Earths to sustain us.

This sort of analysis is known as the “ecological footprint” and shows that even the so-called “green” western European nations, with their more progressive approaches to renewable energy, energy efficiency and public transport, would require more than three planets.

How can we live within the means of our planet? When we delve seriously into this question it becomes clear that almost all environmental literature grossly underestimates what is needed for our civilisation to become sustainable.

Only the brave should read on.

The ‘ecological footprint’ analysis

In order to explore the question of what “one planet living” would look like, let us turn to what is arguably the world’s most prominent metric for environmental accounting – the ecological footprint analysis. This was developed by Mathis Wackernagel and William Rees, then at the University of British Columbia, and is now institutionalised by the scientific body, The Global Footprint Network, of which Wackernagel is president.

This method of environmental accounting attempts to measure the amount of productive land and water a given population has available to it, and then evaluates the demands that population makes upon those ecosystems. A sustainable society is one that operates within the carrying capacity of its dependent ecosystems.

While this form of accounting is not without its critics – it is certainly not an exact science – the worrying thing is that many of its critics actually claim that it underestimates humanity’s environmental impact. Even Wackernagel, the concept’s co-originator, is convinced the numbers are underestimates.

According to the most recent data from the Global Footprint Network, humanity as a whole is currently in ecological overshoot, demanding one and a half planet’s worth of Earth’s biocapacity. As the global population continues its trend toward 11 billion people, and while the growth fetishcontinues to shape the global economy, the extent of overshoot is only going to increase.

Every year this worsening state of ecological overshoot persists, the biophysical foundations of our existence, and that of other species, are undermined.

The footprint of an ecovillage

As I have noted, the basic contours of environmental degradation are relatively well known. What is far less widely known, however, is that even the world’s most successful and long-lasting ecovillages have yet to attain a “fair share” ecological footprint.

Take the Findhorn Ecovillage in Scotland, for example, probably the most famous ecovillage in the world. An ecovillage can be broadly understood as an “intentional community” that forms with the explicit aim of living more lightly on the planet. Among other things, the Findhorn community has adopted an almost exclusively vegetarian diet, produces renewable energy and makes many of their houses out of mud or reclaimed materials.

Findhorn Ecovillage in Scotland. Irenicrhonda/Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND

Findhorn Ecovillage in Scotland. Irenicrhonda/FlickrCC BY-NC-ND

An ecological footprint analysis was undertaken of this community. It was discovered that even the committed efforts of this ecovillage still left the Findhorn community consuming resources and emitting waste far in excess of what could be sustained if everyone lived in this way. (Part of the problem is that the community tends to fly as often as the ordinary Westerner, increasing their otherwise small footprint.)

Put otherwise, based on my calculations, if the whole world came to look like one of our most successful ecovillages, we would still need one and a half planet’s worth of Earth’s biocapacity. Dwell on that for a moment.

I do not share this conclusion to provoke despair, although I admit that it conveys the magnitude of our ecological predicament with disarming clarity. Nor do I share this to criticise the noble and necessary efforts of the ecovillage movement, which clearly is doing far more than most to push the frontiers of environmental practice.

Rather, I share this in the hope of shaking the environmental movement, and the broader public, awake. With our eyes open, let us begin by acknowledging that tinkering around the edges of consumer capitalism is utterly inadequate.

In a full world of seven billion people and counting, a “fair share” ecological footprint means reducing our impacts to a small fraction of what they are today. Such fundamental change to our ways of living is incompatible with a growth-oriented civilisation.

Some people may find this this position too “radical” to digest, but I would argue that this position is merely shaped by an honest review of the evidence.

What would ‘one planet’ living look like?

Even after five or six decades of the modern environmental movement, it seems we still do not have an example of how to thrive within the sustainable carrying capacity of the planet.

Nevertheless, just as the basic problems can be sufficiently well understood, the nature of an appropriate response is also sufficiently clear, even if the truth is sometimes confronting.

We must swiftly transition to systems of renewable energy, recognising that the feasibility and affordability of this transition will demand that we consume significantly less energy than we have become accustomed to in the developed nations. Less energy means less producing and consuming.

We must grow our food organically and locally, and eat considerably less (or no) meat. We must ride our bikes more and fly less, mend our clothes, share resources, radically reduce our waste streams and creatively “retrofit the suburbs” to turn our homes and communities into places of sustainable production, not unsustainable consumption. In doing so, we must challenge ourselves to journey beyond the ecovillage movement and explore an even deeper green shade of sustainability.

Among other things, this means living lives of frugality, moderation and material sufficiency. Unpopular though it is to say, we must also have fewer children, or else our species will grow itself into a catastrophe.

But personal action is not enough. We must restructure our societies to support and promote these “simpler” ways of living. Appropriate technology must also assist us on the transition to one planet living. Some argue that technology will allow us to continue living in the same way while also greatly reducing our footprint.

However, the extent of “dematerialisation” required to make our ways of living sustainable is simply too great. As well as improving efficiency, we also need to live more simply in a material sense, and re-imagine the good life beyond consumer culture.

First and foremost, what is needed for one planet living is for the richest nations, including Australia, to initiate a “degrowth” process of planned economic contraction.

I do not claim that this is likely or that I have a detailed blueprint for how it should transpire. I only claim that, based on the ecological footprint analysis, degrowth is the most logical framework for understanding the radical implications of sustainability.

Can the descent from consumerism and growth be prosperous? Can we turn our overlapping crises into opportunities?

These are the defining questions of our time.

Can Free Trade Agreements Be Consistent With Climate Change Mitigation?

Originally posted on

Written by Community Solutions Fellow, Bob Brecha

Protecting society against the worst impacts of climate change necessarily means making difficult decisions for the future. One of the potential areas of conflict will be between the "owners" of the global environmental and atmospheric commons (that is, all of us), and owners of natural resources whose use can negatively impact the commons. The concern is that free trade agreements could elevate the rights of possession of fossil fuel resources above that of mitigating climate change.

One of the truly novel sections of the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) Fifth Assessment Report (AR5) was the discussion of a carbon budget in the volume on the Physical Science Basis of Climate Change. The carbon budget concept was first proposed several years ago (here and here and here) after it became clear that climate models gave a robust result that serves to simplify the discussion of climate change mitigation strategies: the amount of global average surface warming, relative to the late 19th century, is roughly proportional to the total amount of CO2 emitted into the atmosphere. That is, if you are given evidence that a certain temperature threshold should not be breached, then it is possible to read from a graph how much CO2 can be emitted over all time. 

As a first good estimate, cumulative CO2 emitted into the atmosphere maps directly onto temperature change. Having a 2/3 likelihood of remaining below 2°C by the end of the century (and beyond), total cumulative emissions can be about 3000 Gt CO2. We have already used up approximately 2000 Gt CO2 since the 19th century (80 percent of that in the past fifty years!), so our remaining budget is 1000 Gt CO2, or 25 to 30 years' worth at current consumption rates.

Why is this concept so important? To answer this question we can look at data for how much coal, natural gas and oil are in the ground. Just using up quantities declared as property by either private corporations or national energy companies would result in CO2 emissions of at least 3000 Gt (billion tonnes) of CO2.

There are many important practical questions to ask about how we as a global community will choose to deal with this question of leaving fossil fuels in the ground. An interesting impulse to this conversation has been given by Pope Francis in his encyclical Laudato Si, in which he speaks of the environment, the atmosphere and the earth's climate as parts of the global commons. While this language is not new, the encyclical (and here a particularly good commentary on its implications) discusses in strikingly clear language the competing views of how concepts of public and private property can come into conflict with one another. Instead, we must make trade-offs between how to use different resources, and, in the end, set frameworks for property rights that serve to keep us within the boundaries set by natural planetary systems.

This brings us to the issue of free-trade agreements. Currently dozens of nations are in the midst of negotiations to create additional regions of reduced trade barriers. In contrast to earlier free-trade agreements that often focused on tariffs, these new trade agreements (Trans-Pacific Partnership, or TPP, and Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership, or TTIP) are much more wide-ranging. A key question that arises is that of adjudication of property rights and the direct or indirect expropriation of property. The arbiter of any such disputes falls under the mandate of the "Investor-State Dispute Settlement" (ISDS) mechanism in which arbitration panels independent of any national judicial system can hear and make binding decisions. 

Proponents of TPP and TTIP claim that there are many safeguards for environmental regulations written into the agreements (here and here). Opponents say that there are too many loopholes in the agreements, and that the negotiations, as well as the ISDS mechanism, is too secretive and therefore undermines democratic principles (here and here). Two examples under existing agreements serve to illustrate the potential for future disputes about climate change policies. 

Under NAFTA's Article 1110 (Expropriation and Compensation)

"No Party may directly or indirectly nationalize or expropriate an investment of an investor of another Party in its territory or take a measure tantamount to nationalization or expropriation of such an investment ("expropriation"), except: (a) for a public purpose; (b) on a non-discriminatory basis; (c) in accordance with due process of law ...; and (d) on payment of compensation ..."

Note especially the first exception, "public purpose." In a case brought against the Canadian federal government, a U.S. Company, Lone Pine Resources, claims the National Assembly of Quebec violated NAFTA by passing a bill in 2011 that revoked mineral exploration permits near the St. Lawrence River. However the details of the case play out (it is still pending), it is the position of Lone Pine that the Assembly's decision to ban fracking and protect the watershed was "an uncompensated expropriation that lacks a public purpose." This case is being closely watched, and should Lone Pine's position prevail, it would be a deeply worrisome case of private fossil-fuel property rights trumping the protection of the global commons.

A second case involves the Swedish energy company Vattenfall and the German government. Vattenfall owns and operates lignite strip-mines and power plants, but also nuclear power plants. After the 2011 Fukushima tsunami and subsequent decision in Germany to remove nuclear power from its electricity mix over the next decade, two of the Vattenfall nuclear power plants were permanently closed, after having been periodically offline for extended periods prior to that time. Vattenfall is suing the German government for nearly four billion Euros, with the case being handled by the International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID), not a German national court, which is where other utilities are bringing similar claims. 

In principle there are environmental (and labor) protections built into free-trade agreements. The question is whether the balance of power in tribunals with no democratic oversight or connections to civil society will be in favor of corporate entities able to name specific financial sums they believe have been "taken," or more vaguely-formulated promises to protect the environment. Most of the cases to date have been small potatoes, relatively speaking. The 2000 Gt of buried potential CO2 held as reserves on the books of companies and nations would have a value of over $100 trillion. Economists would like to see a price on carbon as a means of reducing emissions. Given the uncertainties of how free trade agreements might be enforced, would it even be possible to enact a carbon price or other policies that would indirectly devalue fossil-fuel resources? 

The best way to avoid this whole issue is for all of us to work quickly to stop using fossil fuels, decreasing demand and thereby reduce toward zero the value of this resource. That would help keep it in the ground, and even a free-trade agreement can't allow corporations to sue individuals for choosing not to use their product.

Lab rats and the corruption of how we count

originally posted on

Written by Community Solutions Fellow, Kurt Cobb

There's an old joke about lab rats in which the teller says he or she secretly suspects that all lab rats are prone to cancer and so all research about the risk of cancer in humans based on tests in rats is likely useless.

The Committee for Independent Research and Information on Genetic Engineering, a European-based research group, thought it would look into such a possibility.

Last week the group released its findings and that joke became a reality. The diet fed to most lab rats is so laced with pesticides, heavy metals, genetically engineered feed and other man-made contaminants that lab rats worldwide are indeed at much higher risk of developing cancer and other diseases and disabilities just from the food they are reared on.

This doesn't necessarily mean that certain substances thought likely to cause cancer in rats and possibly humans now somehow don't. Rather, the study calls into question practically all safety tests which rely on these rodents. And, in fact, it suggests that the dangers of many substances and genetically engineered plants may have been underplayed.

The researchers point out that some studies purporting to demonstrate the safety of genetically engineered foods fed significant amounts of such GE foods to control groups of rats. These rats should not have gotten any GE food in order that their health profile could be compared accurately to those intentionally fed GE food.

And, even if the rats in the control groups don't ingest the chemical or plant being tested--as is the case in a proper study--they still get sick at abnormally high rates due to their diet. That can make substances being tested appear safer than they truly are because it is more difficult to sort out which effects in the test group are due to the substance or plant being tested.

The butcher's thumb on the scale has long been a metaphor for skewing results of laboratory tests and public surveys. And today, there are so many opportunities for "the thumb on the scale." This matters because it is difficult to know what to believe in a world that is so complex that we are obliged to rely on experts for much of our understanding about how the natural and human-built worlds work and interact.

This week we were treated to the good news that the U.S. unemployment rate dipped to a cheery 5.3 percent. But what's called the participation rate--the percentage of working-age people employed in the work force--hit its lowest level since 1977. So, fewer people looking for work in part accounted for the lower unemployment rate. This suggests that there are still a lot of people having difficulty getting work. The all-inclusive U-6 number--composed of those who've given up looking for work (so-called "discouraged workers"), those working part time who want to work full time, and those who've simply disappeared from the unemployment rolls after benefits ran out--that number stands at 10.5 percent.

Changing the definition of what we count without making that change clear to the public is always a promising tactic among those who would like to mislead us. As I have again and again pointed out, the way we count barrels of oil in the world is seriously flawed for two reasons. First, we count a number substances which are not oil. The marketplace is wise to this, for while governments and companies count these non-oil substances as supplies, companies cannot sell them on the world market as oil.

Second, we treat estimates of "resources" of oil which are based on very sketchy evidence as if these resources will be ready and available to humans whenever we need them at the quantities we want and prices we like. This infographic from the otherwise sensible Carnegie Endowment for International Peace claims that humans have access to 24 trillion barrels of "oil" (a word which must now be placed in quotes). We've consumed about 1 trillion so far. That 24 trillion barrels presumably amounts to a 500-year supply.

But the truth is in the fine print. Some 6.5 trillion barrels are labeled as "technically recoverable." This means they are not necessarily deemed "economically recovered." Only a small fraction of such resources will ever be extracted due to cost and logistical constraints. This number includes a substantial amount of oil from oil shale(actually from kerogen) for which there is no known economically viable extraction method. It is instructive that actual worldwide reserves of "oil" from oil shale currently stand at precisely zero.

Only Estonia has made consistent use of oil shale by simply burning its abundant deposits directly to make electricity. Efforts to extract unsubsidized liquid fuels from oil shale have so far proven elusive.

The 24 trillion barrel number is even more sketchy as it is called "oil in place." This includes hasty and poorly supported estimates for which there is typically no drilling data at all (except for the tiny fraction--1.6 trillion--that represents known "reserves," a much more rigorously supported number).

Only an even tinier fraction of the remaining oil in place will ever be produced. To date about 35 percent of all exploited oil in place has been extracted. That was the easy stuff. The number falls precipitously to 5 to 10 percent for unconventional oil such as tar sands and tight oil for which there are known economically viable extraction technologies.

Everything else beyond that is just fantasy. We should remember that for more than a century, people have been trying to figure out how to get "oil" economically out of so-called oil shale of which there are huge deposits in the American West. We are still waiting for a breakthrough.

Moreover, none of these estimates tell us at what RATE we might get these resources out. And as I have pointed out again and again, rate is the most important number. You may inherit a million dollars. But if the trust controlling those dollars limits you to withdrawals of $500 a month, you will never live like a millionaire. We are all living like "oil millionaires" in the modern age because of the rate at which we've been able to withdraw oil from the ground. There is no guarantee that this rate can climb continuously, and, in fact, the growth of the rate of extraction has slowed dramatically in the last decade as we now seek out more difficult-to-get sources of oil.

The numbers that come our way are calculated and disseminated by people who have an agenda. It may be to be as objective as they can be given the constraints under which they labor. It may be to satisfy the views of financial supporters of a think tank or university research laboratory. The information may be intentionally skewed so as to deceive us (even if there are no outright lies). Or the information may simply be mistaken.

Nassim Nicholas Taleb, author of several bestselling books on risk, says that a good rule of thumb is as follows: If the numbers come from somebody wearing a tie (Wall Street economist or analyst, industry public relations department, captive think tank academic and so on), you ought to be very skeptical. By design messages from these people are intended to move markets, move merchandise and/or move public policy and are not a comment on the state of the physical universe.

If, however, the person telling you the numbers is not wearing a tie (a physicist or chemist, for instance), then it is more likely that you are getting numbers based on the physical realities of the universe that are open to inspection and verification by anyone with the necessary skills and equipment.

(With women, who don't typically wear ties, but are now in positions to give us both useful and skewed numbers, we need to include warnings for numbers which come from women in business suits versus those more informally dressed, especially if they come from the hard sciences.)

It's not that we should never accept numbers and use them to guide our work and life. It's that we should always be on the lookout for the not-so-hidden agenda behind those numbers and make our own determinations and adjustments as necessary.

Why the Pope's Encyclical Laudato Si is Important for Non-Catholics

Originally posted on

Written by Community Solutions Fellow, Bob Brecha

One form of the Golden Rule is that people should treat others in ways they would like to be treated themselves. In one form or another, this is an idea that belongs to virtually every religious tradition, and can also be seen as a fundamental principle of how humans organize themselves societally. 

In the case of climate change and other environmental issues addressed in the pope's encyclical, people of all creeds can use the Golden Rule to consider how we treat the environment today will affect society tomorrow and beyond. 

We emit carbon dioxide today, and sea-level rises slowly over decades or centuries. Emissions here (in wealthier countries, historically) affect people there (poorer countries with less capability for adaptation) who probably will suffer the severest consequences first. Regardless of religion, people for the most part think about what kind of world they wish to leave for their children or great-grandchildren. 

The Vatican isn't alone in making a case that, for the continued stability and progress of societies, we must modify the way we think about development and the environment. A globalized world cannot simply be reduced to liberalizing market transactions. Given ecological and material limits, we must recognize basic rights to food, shelter and health care; learn to measure well-being in something other than monetary terms; and remedy growing inequality, while at the same time mitigating and adapting to a changing climate. Grassroots movements in the U.S. and around the world are increasingly active in these arenas as witnessed by the Climate March last September, the Occupy Movement, the Divestment Movement, the opposition by two million Europeans to the proposed free trade agreement between the U.S. and the EU and many more. 

Pope Francis will frame the need to mitigate climate change in theological terms that follow his religious tradition and will reach more than one billion adherents around the world Laudato Si will also follow a decades-old tradition of papal statements expressing solidarity with the poor and the need to care for creation. Pope Benedict XVI expressed this in 2009: "The way humanity treats the environment influences the way it treats itself, and vice versa." But the deep-seated and simple message is the one that most of us learn as we grow up, independent of faith (or non-faith) tradition -- the Golden Rule.

Laudato Si will be an important tool for motivating Catholics, as well as those of other religious faiths, charging all to take seriously the challenge of climate change. More broadly, this encyclical can be seen as a reflection of these times and how they are being read by a younger generation not satisfied with playing by the rules of their parents -- rules that served some purposes well, but have also created failures and serious problems this generation must deal with as they come to important decision-making positions. 

We are fortunate humankind has been able to use its intellectual capacity to understand the looming threat of climate change. The very secular Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, in its 2013 report, summarized it this way, "It is extremely likely that human influence has been the dominant cause of the observed warming since the mid-20th century." This formulation translates into a 95 percent likelihood, according to the unanimous approval of that language by government representatives to the IPCC from around the world, that our species has become a critical force of nature changing the very character of our planet. During just my lifetime of 54 years, we have been responsible for more than three-quarters of total historical carbon dioxide emissions. That is, our influence on the climate and other parts of the earth system is growing rapidly. Scientists at the end of the 19th century had already projected that large changes in CO2 concentrations would cause temperatures to rise; they just did not really believe we would be able to actually put as much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere as we have since done.

Our understanding of the earth's climate system has improved and the world has seen a remarkable surge in renewable energy production during the past few decades. Costs of solar photovoltaics, wind turbines and batteries for storage have decreased dramatically, and installations of these technologies, as well as concentrating solar power, geothermal, solar thermal have all increased. Progress is being made in developing, implementing and linking information technology capabilities with renewables to help solve some of the challenges of in transforming our energy systems. We are seeing the beginning shifts in transportation, toward electrification as well as increases in the use of bicycles, public transportation as well as car-sharing and ride-sharing models. Local food systems are booming, creating many side benefits beyond the potential for reduction in carbon emissions.

In the case of climate change, the key issue is how we expand and internalize the notion of the Golden Rule to take into account other parts of nature as integral to our well-being, and how we evolve our capacity for thinking over greater spatial scales and longer time spans. 

Regardless of belief system, we must now continue to push our intellects and our hearts to internalize the empathy for others called for by the Golden Rule -- for those both elsewhere and in future generations -- and act accordingly.

Introduction to 'Prosperous Descent'

Originally posted on

Written By Community Solutions Fellow, Samuel Alexander

I sometimes tell my students that I am an ‘apocaloptimist’. While, in truth, I am neither apocalyptic nor optimistic, this neologism serves as a fruitful conversation starter. It allows me to begin stating the case for why we, the human species, are facing overlapping crises of unprecedented magnitude – crises that are threatening the very persistence of our civilisation. At the same time, I explain why all of these problems are of our own making and, indeed, that their solutions already exist and are within our grasp, if only we decide that solving them is seriously what we want. I also maintain that the process of solving or at least responding appropriately to these problems can be both meaningful and fulfilling, if only we are prepared to let go of dominant conceptions of the good life. This means embracing very different ways of living, while also re-structuring our societies to support a very different set of values – especially the values of frugality, moderation, and sufficiency. In short, I argue that the problems we face today are as grave as the solutions are available and attractive, and this tension is reflected in the title of this book – PROSPEROUS DESCENT – which I use provocatively to signify a paradox whose meaning will be unpacked in the following pages and chapters.

Before outlining the content of the following chapters, let me introduce some of the basic themes which shape all the essays collected in this book (and its companion volume, SUFFICIENCY ECONOMY). To begin with, I take a global perspective, even if my focus is generally on the cultures and economies prevalent in what are called the ‘developed’ nations. One of the normative assumptions underlying the essays is that we, human beings, are not citizens of any particular nation-state, the borders of which are artificial constructs of limited moral relevance. Rather, I contend that we are, as Diogenes claimed long ago, ‘citizens of the cosmos’, members of a global community of life, today more so than ever before. Our moral obligations, therefore – our commitments to justice and sustainability, in particular – cannot and should not stop at the borders of our own communities or our own nations. Justice and sustainability are global, seemingly abstract challenges demanding a global perspective, even if our actions and interventions must inevitably be local and concrete. 

In globalising one’s perspective, however, one is inevitability radicalised. As soon as we start asking questions about what a just distribution of the world’s resources would look like, or what material standard of living could be universalised on our already overburdened planet, it immediately becomes clear that justice and sustainability, if these fuzzy notions are to mean anything, require nothing short of a revolution of the existing order of things. As this book will argue, we cannot merely tinker with the systems and cultures of global capitalism and hope that things will magically improve; those systems and cultures are not the symptoms but the causes of our overlapping social, economic, and ecological crises, so ultimately those systems and cultures must be replaced with fundamentally different forms of human interaction and organisation, driven and animated by different values, hopes, and myths. Uncivilising ourselves from our destructive civilisation and building something new is the great, undefined, creative challenge we face in coming decades – which is a challenge both of opposition and renewal. Together we must write a new future, a task that has already begun as individuals and communities begin to build the new world within the shell of the old. But this new future must look radically different from the past if the crises we face are to be tolerably resolved. There are no prizes, of course, for being the most ‘radical’ theorist or movement, yet if evidence, ethical reflection, and logic all demand a radical position, then as a matter of intellectual integrity, radical we must be – even if it is unclear why a position should be called ‘radical’ if the forces of reason and evidence are on our side. Such is the state of things.

Today there are unfathomable amounts of wealth and power concentrated in the hands of a tiny minority of super-rich elites, while great multitudes of our fellow human beings live lives of humiliating destitution. Early in 2014, for example, it was reported that the richest 85 people today have as much accumulated wealth as the poorest half of humanity. This is not ‘civilisation’ as I understand the term. Nothing – no amount of fancy theorising – can justify such a skewed distribution of wealth and power, nor can this distribution be passed off as a ‘natural’ outcome of free individuals operating within free markets. It would be more accurate to say it is the natural outcome of unfree individuals operating within unfree markets. The current distribution of wealth and power, both within nations and between them, is a function of decisions human beings have made about how to structure our economies and political systems, and one does not need a fancy moral or political theory to conclude that the existing distribution, shaped by the existing, globalised economy, is shamefully unjust. It is self-evidently, painfully, and hideously unjust, even if usually we divert our eyes from this distasteful reality, it being too difficult to dwell on for long. Nevertheless, the point is that if human beings made these oppressive and destructive systems, so too can we unmake them and remake them into different systems, better systems, more humane systems – if we commit ourselves to that enormous task.

Our challenges, however, go well beyond distributional questions and call on us to rethink contemporary understandings of ‘progress’, ‘development’, ‘sustainability’, and even the meaning of ‘civilisation’ itself. What does it mean to be ‘civilised’ today? What is it that we want sustained? How will we sustain those things? At what cost? And for whom? Sustainability must not be conceived of as the project of sustaining anything resembling the status quo, although that is a common assumption and, indeed, it currently defines the international development agenda. The high consumption way of life which is enjoyed by the richest one or two billion people on Earth, and which is widely celebrated as the peak of civilisation, simply cannot, due to ecological limits, be universalised to the world’s seven billion people, let alone the eight, or nine, or ten billion people that are expected to inhabit the planet in coming decades. What are the implications of this ecological impossibility? When we ask ourselves what way of life would be consistent with a ‘fair share’ of the world’s finite resources, it quickly becomes evident that a just and sustainable civilisation must not seek to universalise the high impact consumer way of life. That would be ecologically catastrophic – a catastrophe that is, however, in the process of unfolding as conventional modes of ‘sustainable development’ are pursued tragically into the future. 

If the global population is to live safely within the sustainable carrying capacity of the planet, we must be prepared – especially those of us in the developed regions of the world – to reimagine the good life by embracing ‘simpler ways’ of living based on notions of moderation, frugality, appropriate technology, and sufficiency. These notions are rarely discussed in mainstream environmental literature, and they are unspeakable by our politicians, yet I hope to show that they are indispensable to the proper understanding of our predicament and signify our only way out of it. If once it was thought that technology would ‘save the day’, producing efficiencies that would allow a growing global population to live high consumption lifestyles while remaining within the sustainable carrying capacity of the planet, today it is increasingly clear that such techno-optimism lacks all evidential credibility. Universal affluence is nice in theory, perhaps, or perhaps not even nice in theory. But empirically, the promise of technological salvation has failed us. Despite decades of extraordinary technological advance, the ecological burdens humanity places on nature continue to increase. The face of Gaia is vanishing. Efficiency without sufficiency is lost. 

Although there is a demonstrable ecological imperative to embrace simpler lifestyles of moderate consumption, there are, fortunately, many reasons to think that such lifestyles would actually be in our immediate self-interest. As will be seen, evidence indicates that even those who have attained the consumerist ideal so often find that it does not satisfy them, suggesting that human beings just do not find consumption a source of much fulfillment – despite what the advertisements insist. Most people living in consumer cultures today are materially richer than at any other time in history, yet too many of us also tend to be poor in time, poor in community engagement, and lack an intimate connection with nature. Our wealth is dubious. It has come at too high a price.

Human beings all have basic biophysical needs, of course, that must be met in order for us to flourish, but not far beyond those basic needs it seems that consumption has fast diminishing marginal returns. The never-ending pursuit of affluence is like a treadmill on which we keep running without advancing, eventually becoming a zero-sum game of ‘status competition’ which degrades the planet while distracting us from more worthy pursuits. And so the logic of sufficiency is clear: we must step off that consumerist treadmill for ecological reasons, and we should step off it for social justice reasons, but we should want to step off it because if we transcend consumer culture we will discover that there are simply more fulfilling ways to live. Consumerism is a tragic failure of the human imagination. Certainly, we can do much better. 

This book holds up ‘simple living’ or ‘voluntary simplicity’ as the most coherent alternative to consumerism. I use these terms not to imply crudely regressing to old ways of living but instead to imply post-consumerist ways of living. These ways of living would weave together the best human innovations and traditions but use these knowledges and practices to create low-impact lifestyles of moderate consumption, which are nevertheless rich in their non-material dimensions. Although this way of life defies simplistic definition, practically it can mean growing organic food in backyards or urban farms, or supporting local farmers’ markets; it can mean wearing second-hand clothes or mending existing items, and creating or making necessary goods out of recycled materials rather than always acquiring them new; it can mean purchasing solar panels or supporting renewable energy initiatives, while also radically reducing household energy consumption by riding a bike, taking public transport, co-housing, or simply using a washing line instead of a dryer. A process not a destination, the practical implications of voluntary simplicity are endless, which presents us with an immensely creative challenge, especially in consumer cultures. It implies the general attempt to minimise wasteful and superfluous consumption, sharing what we have, and knowing how much is ‘enough’, all the while redirecting life’s vital energies toward non-materialist sources of meaning and fulfillment, such as friends and family, social engagement, creative activity, home production, meeting our civic duties, or exploring whatever one’s private passions might be. The fundamental premise of this book – of all my work – is that a simple life can be a good life. 

Nevertheless, although I argue that true sustainability certainly implies living more simply in a material sense, the following essays also maintain that we must simultaneously build structures and institutions that reflect, embody, and foster the same ethics of sufficiency. This means moving away from macroeconomic systems that have an inbuilt imperative to ‘grow or die’, toward post-growth systems that provide for the material needs of all but which do not seek to provide people with ever-higher levels of affluence. These would be highly localised, zero-growth economies based on permaculture principles, which use mostly local resources to meet mostly local needs. (I tried to describe such an economy – a sufficiency economy – in my last book, Entropia: Life Beyond Industrial Civilisation, which was inspired by the likes of Henry David Thoreau, William Morris, Serge Latouche, David Holmgren, and Ted Trainer.) 

For social and ecological reasons, the problem of population growth must also be confronted (somehow) with dedication and equity, since population is obviously a multiplier of everything, including ecological impact. Nevertheless, the population problem must not be used as a scapegoat to deflect attention away from the more fundamental problems: consumerist aspirations shaping the dominant myth of progress and structures of growth locking us into that myth. 

If our civilisation does not embrace an ethics of sufficiency –and if we persist in the fantasy of globalising affluence and hoping technology and ‘free markets’ will solve our social and ecological problems – we will meet the same fate as the snake that eats its own tail. Before this century is out, our civilisation will have collapsed; will have consumed itself to death. 

• • •

At this stage the paradox of PROSPEROUS DESCENT – the paradox that less can be more – should appear somewhat less paradoxical. The phrase is intended to signify the ‘upside of down’, a positive response to the impending limits to growth which necessitate post-consumerist ways of living. One way or another, for better or for worse, the descent of industrial civilisation is approaching us – in fact, it would seem that the descent is already underway. But currently, the unfolding descent is unplanned and far from prosperous, because most efforts are directed, consciously or unconsciously, toward sustaining the existing civilisation rather than creating something new. Resource limits – especially oil constraints – are beginning to squeeze the life-force out of economies that are dependent on cheap energy inputs to grow, and the reckless burning of fossil energy has begun to destabilise our climate. This is industrial civilisation. It is grossly unsustainable. It is not serving the vast majority of humankind. It has no future.

In order to make the best of the overlapping crises we face – in order to turn those crises into opportunities – the following essays argue that we need to develop cultures that reject consumerism and create far less energy and resource intensive ways of living. To support this cultural revolution in consciousness, we must also build economic and political structures that support and promote the practice of sufficiency. In the most developed regions of the world, this means radically downshifting away from high consumption ways of living and embracing far simpler ways of reduced and restrained consumption. This is the ‘descent’ – the descent away from growth and consumerism – that I argue can be ‘prosperous’, if we negotiate the transition wisely and take to the task with vigour, creativity, and urgency. This book and its companion volume, SUFFICIENCY ECONOMY, attempt to unpack and defend this bold vision, as well as explore the thorny question of how to realise it. 

Before proceeding I should briefly anticipate an objection that will no doubt arise even from this preliminary overview. Let me be clear: the notion of ‘prosperous descent’ is not a prediction. I am not arguing that human beings are going to create a global village of thriving, sufficiency economies, nor do I even suggest that this is likely. And I am certainly not arguing that an unplanned, chaotic civilisational collapse into poverty is going to be ‘prosperous’ (so please do not accuse me of that). My argument is simply that economies of sufficiency, in which the entire community of life can flourish, are the only way to respond effectively to the overlapping crises of industrial civilisation. To oppose Margaret Thatcher with her own words: ‘there is no alternative’. 

If this can be established, as I believe it can, it would follow that we should try to create sufficiency economies, here and now, even if our chances of success do not look good. We may never realise the ideal of a sufficiency economy, but having a coherent ideal functions as a compass to guide action. Without a compass, our energies and efforts would lack direction and thus could easily be misdirected with the best of intentions. Indeed, I worry that dominant strains of the environmental movement today can be understood primarily as misdirected good intentions, efforts which tend to be mistaken in attempting to ‘green’ a growth-orientated mode of production that can never be green. Others oppose the existing order without having any conception of what should replace it. Even those who reject the growth economy sometimes fail to understand the radical implications of such a proposal; fail to understand that we cannot give up growth while other aspects of life more or less go on as usual. Sufficiency, I contend, is a revolutionary project.

While I believe the practical question of ‘strategy’ – the question of how to realise a sufficiency economy – should remain open and dependent on context, the ‘theory of change’ that informs these essays is one grounded in grassroots, community-based action and initiatives. That is to say, I contend that until we have a culture or social consciousness that embraces sufficiency, our politicians are not going to be driven to create the necessary structures of sufficiency, nor, in the absence of such a culture, are we going to build new structures ourselves. In fact, even if such a culture of sufficiency emerged, our politicians are likely to be sluggish and non-responsive in supporting it. This means that the primary (although not necessarily the exclusive) forces of societal change must come ‘from below’, from people like you and me, working in our local communities, at the grassroots level. Before all else, we need to create the social conditions for deep transformation. There is a huge amount our governments could do, of course, to create just and sustainable economies of sufficiency, and in certain chapters I explore some available policy options. This can help us imagine alternative forms of human society and organisation. But we must not wait for governments to act, or we will still be waiting while the ship of civilisation sails over the cliff and crashes into the dark abyss below. 

In any case, we should not want our governments to impose justice and sustainability upon us, and perhaps that would not be possible even if they wanted to. Instead, we must become politically mature enough to govern ourselves toward a better world and shape our own fates. To the extent that governments can assist us, I argue that they should be aiming to deconstruct the barriers to a sufficiency economy, and provide us with the freedom to choose it. Currently that freedom is disastrously constrained, which sadly seems to be part of the design of Empire.

• • •

I will close this introduction by providing a brief outline of the chapters that follow. These essays have been ordered to reflect steps in an argument, however they all stand alone well enough, so there is no need, necessarily, to read them in order. Certain lines of argument, in places, are repeated or summarised, but I hope this serves primarily to emphasise key points and weave the essays together into a coherent whole. 

Chapter 1 lays the foundation for the book by presenting an evidenced-based critique of techno-optimism. Most people today, including many environmentalists, assume that technological advancement will eventually ‘decouple’ our economic growth from environmental impact, thereby allowing us to grow our economies without limit while at the same time reducing ecological impact. This position – which I am calling techno-optimism – is the foundation of dominant conceptions of ‘sustainable development’ and the primary reason so many people assume there are no ‘limits to growth’. If this techno-optimism is justifiable, sustained economic growth may eventually solve global poverty and raise the living standards of all, without destroying the necessary ecosystems that sustain life as we know it. But it is not justifiable. The opening chapter presents a critique of techno-optimism, showing it to be without evidential foundation and dangerously flawed. There are limits to growth – limits which in fact seem to be upon us – and we ignore them at our own peril. The implication is that any adequate response to today’s overlapping crises requires a global shift away from growth economics toward a macroeconomics ‘beyond growth’. 

Chapter 2 reviews the key thinkers and movements in the emerging paradigm of ‘post-growth’ economics. It begins by presenting a brief overview of the conventional growth paradigm, in order to later highlight, by way of contrast, some of the most prominent features of the alternative paradigm. A substantial literature review of post-growth economics is then provided, after which some of the outstanding issues in this emerging paradigm are outlined. This chapter raises questions about what prospects this alternative paradigm has for the economics of growth; what significance it may have if it were ever to succeed; and what the implications could be if it were to remain marginalised. The chapter concludes by outlining a research agenda of critical issues.

Chapter 3 outlines the sociological, ecological, and economic foundations of a macroeconomics ‘beyond growth’, focusing on the idea of degrowth. Degrowth opposes conventional growth economics on the grounds that growth in the highly developed nations has become socially counter-productive, ecologically unsustainable, and uneconomic. Stagnating energy supplies and rising prices also suggest an imminent ‘end of growth’. In response to growth economics, degrowth scholars call for a politico-economic policy of planned economic contraction, an approach which has been broadly defined as ‘an equitable downscaling of production and consumption that increases human wellbeing and enhances ecological conditions’. After defining growth economics and outlining the emerging case for degrowth, this chapter considers the feasibility of a macroeconomics beyond growth and sketches an outline of what such a macroeconomics might look like as a politico-economic programme. 

Chapter 4 is based on the idea that a degrowth process of planned economic contraction depends on, and must be driven by, a culture of ‘simple living’ – or, as the title of this chapter puts it, ‘degrowth implies voluntary simplicity’. Be that as it may, this chapter shows that things are not that simple. Our lifestyle decisions, especially our consumption practices, are not made in a vacuum. They are made within social, economic, and political structures of constraint, and those structures make some lifestyle decisions easy or necessary and other lifestyle decisions difficult or impossible. These structures can even ‘lock’ people into high consumption lifestyles. Change the social, economic, and political structures, however, and different consumption practices would or could emerge. This chapter seeks to deepen the understanding of the relationship between consumer behaviour and the structures which shape that behaviour, in the hope that the existing barriers to sustainable consumption can be overcome or avoided. 

Chapter 5 outlines in more detail the theory and practice of ‘voluntary simplicity’. This term defies easy definition but can be preliminarily understood as a way of life in which people choose to restrain or reduce their material consumption, while at the same time seeking a higher quality of life. For reasons discussed in previous chapters, there is a desperate need for alternative practices and narratives of consumption beyond those prevalent in the most developed regions of the world today, and increasingly people see voluntary simplicity or ‘simple living’ as a coherent and attractive alternative to the ‘work-and-spend’ cycle of consumer culture. After addressing issues of definition, justification, and practice, this chapter concludes by considering some objections that can be levelled against voluntary simplicity, both as a living strategy and as a nascent social movement.

Chapter 6 presents a sympathetic critique of Ted Trainer’s vision of ‘The Simpler Way’, which he has been developing and refining for several decades. Trainer’s essential premise is that overconsumption in the most developed regions of the world is the root cause of our global predicament, and upon this premise he argues that a necessary part of any transition to a sustainable and just world involves the consumer class adopting far ‘simpler’ lifestyles in terms of material and energy consumption. That is the radical implication of our global predicament which most people seem unwilling to acknowledge or accept, but which Trainer does not shy away from, and, indeed, which he follows through to its logical conclusion. Trainer’s complex position can be understood to merge and build upon various strains of socialist, anarchist, and environmentalist thinking. Of particular importance is his critical analysis of the literature on renewable energy, which he argues does not support the assumption that renewable energy can sustain consumer societies. If Trainer is correct, sustainability implies moving toward societies with far lower energy demands than the developed economies, with all that this implies about reduced consumption and production. Needless to say, this directly contradicts the techno-optimism of most sustainability discourse, which assumes that existing and projected energy demands can easily and affordably be met with renewable energy. 

Chapter 7 provides a review of the peak oil situation and offers a response to recent claims that ‘peak oil is dead’. The analysis shows that oil issues remain at the centre of global challenges facing humanity, despite recent claims of oil abundance, and that the challenges are only going to intensify in coming years as competition increases over the world’s most important source of fossil energy. The main issue, however, is not whether we will have enough oil, but whether we can afford to produce and burn the oil we have.

Chapter 8 provides an outline and analysis of various explanations for why the price of oil has fallen so dramatically between June 2014 and February 2015 (the time of writing). The main conclusion defended is that so-called ‘cheap oil’ (at ~$50 per barrel) is just as problematic as expensive oil (at $100+ per barrel), but for very different social, economic, political, and environmental reasons. Just as expensive oil suffocates industrial economies that are dependent on cheap energy inputs to function, cheap oil merely propagates and further entrenches the existing order of global capitalism that is in the process of growing itself to death. 

Chapter 9 presents the most important theoretical contribution of the book, but it is a contribution that I suggest has hugely significant practical implications. The analysis revisits Joseph Tainter’s theory of complexity and collapse and responds to his argument that ‘voluntary simplification’ (which is essentially Tainter’s term for degrowth or the simpler way) is not a viable path to a stable civilisation. Tainter argues forcefully, I admit, that in order to solve the problems facing our species we will need increased energy supplies, and on that basis he rejects the strategy of voluntarily reducing consumption. While I accept many aspects of Tainter’s profound theoretical framework, this chapter ultimately rejects his conclusion, arguing that we are at a stage in our civilisational development where increasing energy consumption is now causing some of the primary problems that energy consumption is supposed to allow us to solve. In order to ‘solve’ some of the central crises of our times – in particular, in order to solve the problem of diminishing marginal returns on complexity which Tainter argues has led to the collapse of civilisations throughout history – I maintain that we must embrace a process of voluntary simplification. The primary contribution of this chapter lies in showing why Tainter’s dismissal of this strategy is misguided and that, in fact, voluntary simplification is the only alternative to collapse.

Chapter 10 is a thought experiment based on a ‘collapse scenario’, which attempts to explore the lifestyle implications of what Paul Gilding has called a ‘Great Disruption’. The question the chapter poses is this: how would an ordinary member of the consumer class deal with a lifestyle of radical simplicity? By radical simplicity I do not mean poverty. Rather, I mean a very low but biophysically sufficient material standard of living. This chapter argues that radical simplicity, in this sense, would not be as bad as it might first seem, provided we were ready for it and wisely negotiated its arrival, both as individuals and communities. The aim of this chapter is to provoke readers to reflect deeply on the question of what material standard of living is really necessary to live a full, human life. If it turns out that much less might be needed than is commonly thought, then in our age of ecological overshoot, this should provide us with further grounds for attempting to minimise our consumption and move toward lifestyles of sufficiency. If we do not choose this path, then my concern is that lifestyles of radically reduced consumption will be soon enough imposed upon us, but in ways that are unlikely to be experienced positively. As Thoreau once said, ‘when a dog runs at you, whistle for him’ – which I interpret as suggesting that we should embrace those things that necessarily await us whether we want those things or not. Nietzsche expressed a similar point: amor fati (‘love thy fate’). 

Chapter 11 is the most philosophical of these collected essays, and is also the longest. It is placed toward the end because it may also be the least accessible, but I include it because I am convinced that the issues it raises are of the utmost importance. The chapter summarises then applies the ethical writings of Michel Foucault to the theory and practice of voluntary simplicity, drawing in particular on his notion of an ‘aesthetics of existence’. Foucault argued that ‘the self’ is socially constructed. So far as that is true, inhabitants of consumer societies have probably internalised the social and institutional celebration of consumer lifestyles to varying degrees, and this will have shaped our identities and worldviews, often in subtle, even insidious, ways. But Foucault also argued that ‘the self’, as well as being shaped by society, can act on itself and change itself through a process of ‘self-fashioning’. This raises the ethical question: what type of person should one create? Given that overconsumption is driving many of the world’s most pressing problems, it may be that ethical activity today requires that we critically reflect on our own subjectivities in order to refuse who we are – so far as we are uncritical consumers. This Great Refusal would open up space to create new, post-consumerist forms of subjectivity, which is surely part of the revolution in consciousness needed in order to produce a society based on a ‘simpler way’. After outlining Foucault’s ethics and situating them in the context of consumption practices, the chapter concludes by describing several ‘techniques of the self’ that could be employed by those who wish to practise the idea of voluntary simplicity as an aesthetics of existence.
Chapter 12, the final chapter, is a short essay which was delivered at the Festival of Ideas, at the University of Melbourne, Australia in October 2013. It looks back from the year 2033 to consider how a transition to a low-carbon society might transpire, based on the notion that a crisis is also an opportunity. 

It is worth acknowledging that the essays in this book do not answer all questions and, in fact, may raise as many questions as they answer. A second book of essays is also being published, which I hope will fill some of the gaps. A provisional contents page of that volume, called SUFFICIENCY ECONOMY: ENOUGH, FOR EVERYONE, FOREVER, is included as an appendix to this book.

Announcing the 2015 Conference Friday Night Keynote Speakers: The Minimalists

Community Solutions is happy to announce the keynote speakers for our fall conference, Climate Crisis Solutions: Tools for Transition, Joshua Fields Millburn & Ryan Nicodemus.

What if everything you ever wanted isn’t what you actually want?

When they were twenty-something, suit-clad, and upwardly mobile, best friends Joshua Fields Millburn & Ryan Nicodemus thought they had everything anyone could ever want.

Until they didn’t anymore.

When Joshua was blindsided by the loss of his mother and his marriage in the same month, and Ryan was faced with crippling debt and depression, both men started questioning every aspect of the lives they had built for themselves. Then, they accidentally discovered a lifestyle known as minimalism … and everything started to change.

In the pursuit of looking for something more substantial than compulsory consumption and the broken American Dream, Joshua & Ryan both walked away from six-figure careers and embarked on a new journey. Since embracing simplicity as a lifestyle, they have written four books, including the bestselling memoir, Everything That Remains; cofounded Asymmetrical Press, a publishing house for the indie at heart; embarked on a 100-city international speaking tour; and have spoken at Harvard Business School, Apple, SXSW, TEDx, World Domination Summit, and many other organizations, schools, and conferences.

In just four years, Joshua & Ryan have garnered an audience of more than 4 million readers at their website,, where they write about living a meaningful life with less stuff. Their story has been featured in Time magazine, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, USA Today, Forbes, The Atlantic, Boston Globe, San Francisco Chronicle, Chicago Tribune, National Post, Globe & Mail, LA Weekly, and on the Today show, CBS This Morning, ABC, NBC, FOX, MSNBC, NPR, BBC, CBC, and dozens of other outlets.

Both born in 1981 and raised in Dayton, Ohio, Joshua & Ryan now live in Missoula, Montana.

Miller Fellows at Community Solutions

Introducing our Miller Fellows, Lucas Bautista and Rose Hardesty! The Miller Fellowship Program is a program of the Yellow Springs Community Foundation, funded by the Nolan J. and Richard D. Miller Endowment Fund.  Nolan Miller (d. 2006) was Associate Editor of The Antioch Review, a noted writing teacher and a beloved Antioch College professor.  His brother, Richard (d. 2009), was a highly regarded artist working in many different media.  The purpose of the fund is to support fellowships for Antioch College students who engage in service for the benefit of the Yellow Springs community. As part of Antioch’s co-op program, instituted by Arthur Morgan during his time as college president, students are required to spend one quarter each year in a full-time work setting. Miller Fellows work part-time for up to 10 hours per week during the three study quarters, and full-time during the work quarter.

Lucas Bautista is a first year student from Chicago, IL. He took a gap year before coming to Antioch College. During that year he spent three months in Uganda as a substitute teacher, three months working in a cafe in Mexico and a month on a sustainable farm in West Virginia. He works with Community Solutions doing technical support as well as translation and video editing.


Rose Hardesty grew up near San Francisco, CA. She has previous work experience in office and childcare settings, and has volunteered in alternative pre- and K-12 schools, a restorative outreach program for incarcerated youth, and on a sustainable urban farm. Community Solutions represents an intersection of her interests in environmental conservation and the creation of caring and just human systems. She is planning to pursue a self-designed major in Ecopsychology.

Energy Navigators Project

Our Energy Navigators Project brings together the energy expertise of Community Solutions with the outreach capabilities of Home, Inc. and Opportunities for Individual Change to develop a coordinated energy literacy campaign for low-income citizens in Yellow Springs and Springfield. The pilot materials developed—in print, web, video, and workshop format—will later be shared broadly with Community Action Partnership (CAP) agencies throughout Ohio and the Nation.

While energy and water use and costs impact all householders, low-income renters and homeowners are particularly affected. They often do not have the resources to accomplish deep-energy retrofits, and renters are dependent on landlords to do upgrades. Even with financial incentives, the aging stock of homes in the Yellow Springs/Springfield area means that weatherization projects are expensive and often cannot be accomplished because of pre-existing home barriers. This means that low-income residents, whose energy bills represent a significantly higher portion of their income than those of median-income householders, often are—literally—left out in the cold. Utilities-related debt, shut-offs, inefficient heating systems, antiquated appliances, and extreme home temperatures have significant health impacts, including respiratory illness, pneumonia, increased fire risk, bronchitis, hunger, and stress. These health and safety issues can lead to additional expenses and loss of income for poor families.

Fortunately, there are many no- and low-cost strategies for energy and water reduction. Low-cost strategies for energy savings include covering windows with plastic sheeting for increased insulation, caulking building leaks to prevent escaping heat, and switching to energy-efficient lightbulbs. No-cost behavioral changes include turning down thermostats, using cold water rather than hot taps for many household uses, closing off rooms in the winter, unplugging what is not in use, pulling shades or otherwise covering windows, turning down heat at night, turning the lights off when you leave the room, tapping natural resources (south-facing windows, natural ventilation), wearing layers indoors, and heating people rather than space.

Energy literacy also includes the ability to read utility bills; awareness of programs and other assets that are available to low-income residents in need of emergency energy assistance; and empowering low-income families to conduct basic energy audits to assess their own energy use and needs. The project will also emphasize community action and leadership, which can provide a support network to prevent individuals from falling into crisis.

A Tale of Two Supermarkets: One Transition Town’s Efforts to Respond to Gentrification

Originally posted on

Written by Jeanette Origel & Community Solutions Fellow, Sarah Byrnes

Community resilience is often thought of in concrete terms: growing local food, using sustainable energy, riding bikes and using alternative transit, and lowering carbon emissions.

All of this is tremendously important. But resilience is also a question of who, as well as what. It is possible to imagine a future full of gated neighborhoods that are highly resilient, where wealthy people live in carbon-neutral communities complete with bikes, electric cars, mini-farms, windmills, and solar panels.

It’s also clear that as communities build resilient “amenities,” such as community gardens, green space, walkable business districts, farmers markets, and bike paths, they become more desirable places to live – and real estate prices rise. Tragically, the folks who worked so hard to improve their communities, and make them resilient, get priced out.

This is how gentrification systematically undermines attempts to create resilience for all. It’s why the future scenario of “gated resilience” is one we must seriously consider and work to prevent. We must always ask: who is community resilience really for?

Él Platanero and Hi-Lo

According to Jamaica Plain New Economy Transition (JP NET) organizer Carlos Espinoza-Toro, “Gentrification is a structural problem embedded into our financial and economic system.”

But despite its structural nature, people often approach gentrification as if it was a matter of individual choice. As a neighborhood changes and gentrifies, hurtful fights can break out. “New” and “old” neighbors often battle over potent symbols–such as murals and supermarkets. But it is possible to navigate these conflicts with skill and care, lessening the impact, and uniting the community rather than dividing it. (For an example, see this story about Beth Roy, a mediator who helped a community navigate gentrification in the San Francisco area.)

Take, for example, Tropical Foods Supermarket–or “Él Platanero”–in Dudley Square, Boston. Jeanette’s father, a native of Mexico, has shopped at Él Platanero for many years. He found a sense of community there, where everyone understood one another. Él Platanero was a place where he could connect with people in his native language. In 2014 he learned of the supermarket’s upcoming renovation project. Although it would be under the same owners, he feared the new, remodeled location will mean more expensive groceries and a loss of its unique culture.

Luckily, this story has a positive ending. The supermarket has now been open for business in its new space for a few months. It has brought in new customers, but it has also retained many old ones. Jeanette’s father still shops there and believes this change has had a positive outcome. The culture still remains and its appearance is more polished. Compared to other local supermarkets, her father believes Tropical Foods does a better job at respecting foreign and Latin American products. He can always count on finding his favorite products at reasonable prices.

We find a much more mixed story in neighboring Jamaica Plain, where a Whole Foods took over the “Hi-Lo” supermarket in 2011. Hi-Lo had served the Latino community for almost 50 years in JP. Very much like Tropical Foods in Dudley Square, it was a place to connect with friends.

Jeanette’s mother, of Puerto Rican descent, would visit Hi- Lo whenever she needed a product specifically from her home island. “At Hi-Lo, you almost felt as if you were shopping in a Latin American country,” she said.

But even though Hi-Lo often had great deals on groceries, a product she most searched for, “pana,” or breadfruit, was always over-priced. Growing up in Puerto Rico, Jeanette had a giant breadfruit tree in the backyard. What was once abundant and taken-for-granted now costs Jeanette’s mother almost $10 for just one piece of fruit.

This is the situation for many new Americans in search of a taste from home. Unable to find certain products for a good price, they have to settle for what is available.

Whole Foods replaced Hi-Lo in 2011 after its long-time owners retired. This brought about both excitement and disappointment from Latino customers. Some were upset about losing a piece of home, while others were excited about change. Some worried there would be no place to find their products, and others–like Jeanette’s mother–worried that if Latin American products were sold at Whole Foods, the prices will increase even more.

In the end, Jeanette’s mother was right. Whole Foods does not carry breadfruit, and the prices for all its produce are high. While some Latino neighbors may occasionally get groceries at Whole Foods, it is certainly not the community center that Hi-Lo was.

In a gentrifying neighborhood, little “tastes of home” like breadfruit become hard–or even impossible–to find.

Getting Structural

Food is a powerful indicator of gentrification, and signifies who really belongs in a neighborhood. “If an institution like Whole Foods comes into a neighborhood and says it cares about the cultural well-being of neighbors, it should be able to provide food that enhances that well-being,” says Carlos. JP NET put together a “Meet your Neighbors’ Fruits” informational sheet so we can learn more about the fruits our neighbors know and love.

Clearly, fruit by itself does not address the structural causes of displacement. In fact, “It takes much more than one project or policy to address this issue,” says Carlos. “It takes a movement of people who understand it, structurally and systematically.”

Strong movements are built on solidarity. That’s why JP NET hosts bilingual potlucks–on topics ranging from gardening to sports to climate change–in order to build trust across neighborhood divides. “We’ve learned that there is no quick fix to a structural problem,” says Carlos. “Only through conversations, education, and the slow work of relationship-building, can we spark a powerful movement of people who know, trust, and care about each other–and who are willing to fight for community resilience for allneighbors.”

The hidden reasons behind slow economic growth: Declining EROI, constrained net energy

Originally posted on

Written by Community Solutions Fellow, Kurt Cobb 

It should seem obvious that it takes energy to get energy. And, when it takes more energy to get the energy we want, this usually spells higher prices since the energy inputs used cost more. Under such circumstances there is less energy left over for the rest of society to use, that is, for the non-energy gathering parts--the industrial, commercial and residential consumers of energy--than would otherwise be the case.

It shouldn't be surprising then that as fossil fuels, which provide more than 80 percent of the power modern society uses, become more energy intensive to extract and refine, there is a growing drag on economic activity as more and more of the economy's resources are devoted simply to getting the energy we want.

A more formal way of talking about this is Energy Return on Investment or EROI. The "energy return" is the energy we get for a particular "investment" of a unit of energy. The higher the EROI of an energy source, the cheaper it will be in both energy and financial terms--and the more energy that will be left over for the rest of society to use.

But we've seen a persistent decline in the EROI of U.S. oil and natural gas in the past century, a trend that is likely to be reflected elsewhere in the world as well. Here's a summary from the abstract of a 2011 study:

We found two general patterns in the relation of energy gains compared to energy costs: a gradual secular decrease in EROI and an inverse relation to drilling effort. EROI for finding oil and gas decreased exponentially from 1200:1 in 1919 to 5:1 in 2007. The EROI for production of the oil and gas industry was about 20:1 from 1919 to 1972, declined to about 8:1 in 1982 when peak drilling occurred, recovered to about 17:1 from 1986–2002 and declined sharply to about 11:1 in the mid to late 2000s. The slowly declining secular trend has been partly masked by changing effort: the lower the intensity of drilling, the higher the EROI compared to the secular trend. Fuel consumption within the oil and gas industry grew continuously from 1919 through the early 1980s, declined in the mid-1990s, and has increased recently, not surprisingly linked to the increased cost of finding and extracting oil.

We rarely think of the energy it takes to get the energy we need because the processes are hidden from most of us. For example, when we drill for oil, there is energy expended to build the rigs, make the pipes, move and deliver them, drill the well, complete the well and pump the oil. The people involved all require energy in the form of food to live and tools and transportation to do their work. The oil is then transported by pipeline or tanker to refineries which use yet more energy to make the final products such as the diesel and gasoline we use. These products are transported to distributors and finally to retail service stations or large end users. This list is actually cursory, but it illustrates the scope of the activities involved.

A similar series of energy expenditures could be adduced for natural gas, coal, uranium, biofuels, solar power, wind and, in fact, any energy source available to us.

The methods for assessing energy consumed in obtaining energy are not universally consistent. But no matter what methods are used, they point to one fact, fossil fuel EROI including coal has been declining. This is entirely consistent with the observation that we have extracted the easy-to-get resources first and are now going after oil and natural gas deposits that are progressively more difficult to extract--in deep shale deposits requiring extensive hydraulic fracturing or fracking, in deep ocean waters and in the Arctic. For coal this is reflected in the declining heat value per unit of coal that is now being mined.

So, if EROI has generally been declining for decades, why has the economy grown consistently? The answer comes from one more piece of the puzzle: net energy. Net energy is the energy left over for the rest of society after we expend the necessary energy to extract, refine and deliver it. That sounds like EROI, but it is an absolute number, not a ratio.

It turns out that we have greatly expanded the gross amount of energy we are extracting from all sources in the past century. This vast increase in gross extractions of energy has masked falling EROI by giving us consistently more net energy for society.

However, the growth in net energy appears to have slowed while EROI of fossil fuels continues to fall. That has led to greater competition for the available net energy and a general rise in fossil fuel prices from 2000 onward. There have been fluctuations, sometimes violent ones, tied to the so-called Great Recession of 2008 and 2009 and to the softening of the world economy in the past year which led to steep declines in oil prices (something which may be telling us there is another recession in the offing).

If the composition of our energy resources weren't so skewed toward finite fossil fuels which supply more than 80 percent of all energy to human society, then the question of net energy might be less important. The vast amount of solar energy available on the Earth's surface might be available to us with a relatively low EROI, but the gross amount available is orders of magnitude greater than the amount we are using today. As solar becomes a larger and larger part of world energy production and as the technology becomes more efficient at converting sunlight to useable energy, we may see the EROI of our total energy mix turn up.

But it's doubtful that solar and other renewable alternatives can make up for the vast energy contribution of fossil fuels anytime soon. This means that we may be facing a secular slowdown in net energy growth or even stagnation or decline in the net energy available to society. As our major energy sources, fossil fuels, continue their downward EROI trajectory, it is getting harder and harder for gross extractions to compensate.

This suggests that the net energy available to society might actually peak and decline even as gross energy extractions continue rising. No doubt many experts will cite the rising trend as reason not to be concerned about energy supplies--even though, on a net basis, energy available to society might actually be shrinking.