Degrowth: End of Society or Vision of the Future?

Image Source: Kamiel Choi

Degrowth is a bit of a buzzword these days. Some of the press is bad, like the WIRED article titled “Why Degrowth Is the Worst Idea on the Planet.” Some of the press is good. Bestselling books like Slow Down: The Degrowth Manifesto by Kohei Saito and Less is More: How Degrowth Will Save the World by Jason Hickel make that case. And like all hot button ideas these days, degrowth is hotly debated on X.

What is degrowth?

Degrowth, in the most limited sense, questions  ‘growth’ as the goal of economic policy. In modern day politics, economic growth is considered not only to be a net good, but a hallmark of a healthy society. In fact, this is one of the few issues both presidential candidates Harris and Trump can agree on. Trump said this explicitly in the 2024 debate, promising a “bigger, better and stronger” economy and Harris got more specific with her highlight on growing the “clean energy economy”. In a political climate so polarized, growth is good is something most everyone seems to agree on. 

The idea of degrowth has been around since the 1970s, but until now it hasn’t gained much traction in a culture that leads with ‘growth is good’.The French economist André Gorz coined “degrowth” in the 1970s when looking at economic policy specifically. Since then, different people have defined degrowth in different ways.

Public vs personal approaches

The personal politics of degrowth deal largely with individual choices that shift families and communities away from relying on a system of infinite economic growth to a low consumption model of living. Think vegan food influencers and reduce food waste TikToks. 

As concern about climate change comes more into the mainstream, people trying to live with less impact on the environment often adopt terms like degrowth that come from academia, to describe the lifestyle choices that they are promoting. Zero-waste, slow living, communes, intentional communities, anti-consumerism, right-to-repair, ‘live local, think global’ and de-influencing are all social and personal approaches to the degrowth movement. 

The other camp that degrowthers end up in is far closer to Gorz original usage of the term, i.e. the public policy of degrowth. Proponents push for economic and social policies for degrowth, such as moving away from GDP as an indicator of prosperity, and redirecting efforts from sustainable development in the global North to sustainable degrowth. 

In contrast to their vegan, anti-consumer counterparts, policy degrowth advocates usually focus on national and international investment and subsidies systems, over individual consumer choice. Some like Jason Hickel do advocate for a complete overhaul of the global economy, but most take a more moderate approach, asking that governments stop using a booming economy as an indicator of wellbeing, and instead focus on human needs.

Why are people so mad? 

The majority of the people who take to the Internet to complain about degrowth are responding to political degrowth supporters, but are spreading their message using the imagery of personal degrowth advocates. For many contemporary economists, degrowth is a dangerous movement that threatens to crash the economy and spread some quasi-Maxist, socialist, global one world order. 

Pragmatic environmentalists also oppose degrowth because, however valuable it might be, they see the total overhaul of the economy as dead-in-the-water in the current political landscape. Instead, they argue that harnessing the power of economic growth and incentives will save the planet from all its climate change woes.

Feminist opposition to degrowth is lesser known, but also important.  The current ‘washing machine debates’ give a snapshot of how these conversations about individual degrowth are shaped by personal privilege. The washing machine transformed the lives of women starting in the 1950s. They along with other time-saving appliances allowed women to work outside the home, while still fulfilling traditional  roles as wife and mother. There is an implicit belief underlying critiques of personal degrowth that only those who have forgotten the struggles of past generations would choose to give up these technologies that shape the world today.

Another issue that comes up for degrowth, specifically personal degrowth, is how people with disabilities are reliant on systems for medicine and adaptive technology. The vast system of international shipping that fuels the global economy also delivers ingredients for the manufacture of life-saving medication, like insulin. Aspects of consumption like plastic straws and disposable paper towels are a convenience many enjoy, but can play a huge role in a disabled person’s day to day life. Unequivocally, the type of personal degrowth choices that are promoted are at odds with technologies that empower disabled people to have agency in their own lives. 

These two critiques of degrowth get tangled in the current debates, clouding both the meaning of degrowth as a term, and sending these two different communities sailing past each other, fighting a strawman army of their own making. 

Why should people care?

While people on the internet have a lot of thoughts about degrowth, it may seem out of touch with the current struggles and needs of people on the ground. Political degrowth is an abstract idea being debated in even more abstract terms, where thinkers throw around acronyms like GDP and ILO. Even the personal degrowth of pristine, zero waste households plastered over the internet that are used to sell metal straws and reusable coffee cups seem out of touch.  Why should anyone with a job, bills, family to worry about, care about degrowth?

One reason is that, for better and for worse, economic policy shapes the lives of everyone. Conversations around tax rates, development, sustainable or otherwise, inflation reduction, and budgeting all start with an implicit assumption that growth is good; growth will bring more people health, wealth and happiness. 

How do we go forward?

Popular eco-friendly ideas like sustainable development, degrowth, buy-less, and the Green New Deal, are often seen as a panacea to the problem of climate change. This thinking is understandable. Human suffering, particularly at the hands of the natural world, is scary. An uncertain future is scary. And people respond with the hope that if we just find the right solution, the silver bullet, weed out the bad apples, and then we will be okay. 

In focusing on washing machines and other conveniences, we fight amongst ourselves, stuck in a cycle of judging, justifying and defending. The degrowth debates, in their chaos, remind us that it is easy to talk about big ideas on the Internet, it is easy to make sweeping generalizations about how people should live, and it is easy to be distracted by tech bros on X. What it is hard to do is think critically, imagine a better world and fight to create it, present with the now.

As Andre Gorz reminds us, “theory always runs the risk of blinding us to the shifting complexities of the real world. [Instead, we should] live completely at one with the present, mindful above all of the wealth of our shared life”. 

Cultivating Hope: Community-Owned Regenerative Agriculture as a Way Forward

Birdsfoot Farm remains a sturdy, if subdued, tribute to an alternative way of living and farming.

Next to the slightly peeling Obama 2008 bumper sticker sits a small white and blue quotation.

 “Despite all our accomplishments, we owe our existence to a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact it rains.” 

The quote dots the eight or so cars parked in front of the 150-year old barn of Birdsfoot Farm in Canton, NY. Founded in the 1970s as part of the Back to the Land movement, the farm now supports a small cohousing community, a K-12 school, and vegetable plot that supplies produce  to local families and businesses. They host Maypole Dances, an annual Garlic Festival, and weekly potlucks in the main kitchen. They live mostly self-sufficiently, with the occasional luxury bar of chocolate and movie night in town. It is, in many ways, an agrarian utopia.

This image is not the reality for the vast majority of agriculture that occurs in the United States today. Instead, the food and agricultural landscape is dominated by farms that span millions acres, plant corporation-patented seed corn, and rely on massive center pivot irrigation systems.  Many pay starvation wages to largely undocumented migrant workers who lack the political power to advocate for better conditions. 

Additionally, the switch to industrial farming has dovetailed a shift to majority cash crops, animal feed, and ethanol production, leaving only 2% of American agriculture dedicated to fruits and vegetables, like Birdsfoot. Of that 2%, the majority of it is in California, with produce then shipped to other states for distribution. 

Industrial agriculture, according to a 2022 special feature review article from the journal Sustainability Science, is a major contributor to “climate change, biodiversity loss, and severe impacts on soil and water quality”, all of which are increasing in intensity and human impact. Around 34% of all greenhouse gas emissions come from the food system, with the majority of that being from industrial agriculture. It also causes harmful algae blooms and ‘dead zones’, like the Gulf of Mexico dead zone which spans 6,705 miles

In addition, competition from imported fruits and vegetables is making farming financially unviable for many families. Dulli Tengeler, the primary farmer at Birdsfoot, is grappling with that reality. In 2019, her total income was $3,200, with two kids in college. “We had a great year working together in the gardens and I am happy, and the happy factor is not to be underestimated, but it is not sustainable.” 

Dulli (right) and Goldie (left), in a back field at Birdsfoot Farm.

The solution, according to the article’s authors, Cathy Day and Sarah Cramer, lies in what is called regenerative agriculture. 

Regenerative agriculture is a departure from the massive industrial agriculture that has become the American standard of food, feed and ethanol production. Regenerative agriculture focuses on improving “the ecological conditions of a farm, while also producing food”. Farms that practice regenerative agriculture use fewer external soil amendments, smaller fields, and more diverse crops.  resilience in the face of climate change.

Regenerative farming is not a new concept.  Remember the six inches of topsoil and rain model of cultivation on those  bumper stickers? Farms like Birdsfoot demonstrate what a more regenerative  model of farming looked like.

The researchers  investigated how this model can be expanded on, and made more viable for struggling farms. Day and Cramer focus on unpacking regenerative agriculture policy, adoption and education. Given how powerful industrial agriculture is, policy that supports smaller farmers is a tough sell to many legislatures.

Shifting laws, especially within the Farm Bill, which subsidizes industrial agriculture heavily, is key to making regenerative agriculture viable. Making no or low-interest loans available to farmers who use regenerative practices or subsidizing labor costs are both policy changes that could have a real impact.

Outside of policy, modern approaches for community and support, like farm to table networks that help fund farmers making the switch and internet communities for sharing ideas. Encouraging farmers to explore new financial models and sharing approaches that work locally are also essential. 

At Birdsfoot farm, a CSA model has been the main reason they remain viable. Birdsfoot also hosts young farmers to come and learn regenerative agriculture techniques who will then continue to bring those principles and techniques to their own farms, highlighting the role of educational networks for farmers. 

While it is by no means a solution to all of our environmental problems, switching from an industrial agricultural model to a regenerative one would reduce the ways in which the current systems perpetuate harm and leave communities vulnerable to climate change and soil degradation. 

There still exists the fundamental problem of how to implement these changes in a way that doesn’t lead to the creation of food shortages or or more economic hardship, given that cost-saving is a real asset of industrial agriculture. Food produced organically and on a smaller scale through regenerative agriculture is often prohibitively expensive to consumers. Expanding EBT benefits to cover CSAs and other models of food distribution is key to reducing harm for those undergoing this shift. Farmers themselves also play a role in accessibility, such as Birdsfoot’s “Buy a Share, Give a Share” program.

When moving forwards to regenerative agriculture, Birdsfoot Farm specifically, can serve as an inspiration, a path, rather than a destination.

Waking from the Good Life; Agrarian Movements and Their Legacy

For many young adults, the threat of climate change looms large. Questions that used to worry  young adults, like career choice, moving out, and the planning for the future have taken on a surreal quality to them, as many young adults believe they don’t  have a future, economically or biologically. In response, some choose nihilism. Others channel their energy towards social causes. Some just post videos of themselves making bread on TikTok. 

Figuring out what do do in response to ecological collapse, overconsumption, economic hardship and disconnection from the land is seemingly part of every young persons psyche these days, manifesting in the cottagecore aesthetics, frenzy around foraging, and the rise of homemaking and farming media that gain millions of views on social media. And of course, a call to return to the land, to live in agrarian communities, close to neighbors, in harmony with the earth. 

Whatever TikTok and other social media may imply, this generation is not the first pining to get back to the land. The idea of an agrarian utopia is a common thread throughout the history of the United States. Thomas Jefferson’s idea of a yeoman nation of small farmers lie at the heart of much historical republican thought. Amish and Mennonite communities in the U.S. offer a religious version of the same dream. 

In the 1970s, swaths of people moved to rural areas. They started co-ops, communes, and intentional communities in what is referred to as the Back to the Land movement. They painted signs and hung prayer flags. The Back to the Land movement was a part of the social upheaval of the 70s. Gary Snyder and other famous thinkers wrote inspiring manifestos about a return to agrarian ideals, local communities, the commune model, and self sufficiency. This wasn’t a movement of farming communities reaffirming their livelihood, but choosing a separate more ecologically driven lifestyle. 

The dream of the agrarian utopia is often a far cry from the reality of disconnecting from our modern systems of consumption. There is a reason most of us in the United States think of the Back to the Land movement as failing. Some of these communities still exist, with Maypole Dances, Garlic Festivals and CSAs, but the farmers are aging out of their work, and their children are either not able or interested in continuing their parents’ ideologically driven lifestyle. 

More recent newcomers to these communities often stay for a few years and then when the stresses of either the work or the chafing of a close community become too difficult to manage, they leave. Agrarian communities that have persisted prior to and after the Back to the Land movement are communities like the Amish, which impose a strict, often religiously backed social code of conduct. The liberal, secular, self-sustaining communities of like minded people that were hoped for in the Back to the Land movement have dulled. Financial troubles and mass exodus of jobs meant that most communities founded as part of this movement have since been abandoned, farms sold and families departed. Their beautiful signs proclaiming “fresh veggies, warm hearts” have started to peel. Prayer flags fraying. 

Given this history, it seems that this recent resurgence of back to the land thought and images of agrarian utopia online are destined either for failure or religious orthodoxy. In light of the climate crisis and the economic fears that hang over this generation, it is worth exploring what it is that caused these previous movements to fall so far from their idealistic beginnings. If we can learn from the past, perhaps we can avoid some of the pitfalls that those before us struggled with. The goal of this project is to explore the rise, success and fall of so-called Back to the Land movements, and unpack both the missteps and virtues of the new online discourse of agrarian utopia.

In Pursuit of the Perfect Lawn

Mow, water, spray, repeat. 

Americans spend up to six hours per week maintaining their lawn: trimming grass, obsessively spraying God-knows-what to keep the grass a bright green, turning on sprinklers at the crack of dawn— But why? What is it about these small patches of grass that fascinates Americans? 

An eco-anthropological dissertation completed at Salve Regina University analyzes this very question, incorporating historical, critical, and socio-cultural perspectives. The study, which focused on one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Rhode Island, found that American front lawns are sites of both “socially vapid” and “ecological hazardousness” occurrencess. 

To make sense of this, let me introduce you to two houses you would probably recognize. The first house (House A) has a front lawn with long, lumpy, untended brown-ish grass. The other house’s lawn (House B) is the opposite: it is a perfectly manicured, eternally green,weed-free carpet.

Let’s begin with the dissertation’s first  argument: lawns as sites of socially vapid events. That is to say that lawns are spaces where boring, unproductive, and unimportant social interactions happen.

The analysis collected data from 23 front lawns within the town of Barrington, Rhode Island. Among other questions, the study asked participants the following: Do you believe the appearance of your front lawn is a reflection of you? 68% of participants believed it was.

In American suburbs, lawns exist as extensions of the owner, measures of their character, and furthermore, extensions of American values.

The 30 billion dollar lawn industry in the U.S. thrives on the role lawns play in forming   reputations with one’s neighbors, independent of any human interaction— this illustrates lawns as sites of “socially vapid” occurrences. 

This makes sense to me.  Families on my street always treated the residents in House B noticeably better than House A. House B treated their lawn as a prized possession and in turn, they too were treated as such. House A, on the other hand, was often the gossip on the street. People would say, “I can’t believe they let their lawn look like that” or “It’s not that hard to mow your lawn” or “Their lawn makes us all look bad.” 

The goal of the dissertation is to investigate potential for a culturally viable and ecologically beneficial front lawn. Written through an exploration of people’s perception of and relationship with front lawns, the dissertation introduces larger themes important to the American lawn: individualism, control, nationalism, wealth, value, and controlled versions of nature. Understanding these themes are critical in reimagining what our front lawns can look like and how we can interact with them. 

From this perspective, we can see what House A and House B’s lawns share. Neither lawns are sites of play, recreation, community gathering, or lounging. They are, as the study describes, “socially vapid.” This goes hand in hand with the second argument: lawns as sites of ecologically hazardous events.

Unsurprisingly, 80% of the study’s participants reported using a gas lawn mower, a machine already ecologically harmful in its own right. Of the 80%, 62% of participants reported using riding gas lawn mowers, the most polluting of lawn mowers. 

Given the fact that our current system of lawn management and lawn use is ecologically hazardous and socially vapid, reimagining our connection to and affinity for the suburban front lawns is necessary to enact sustainable, effective change. 

So, it turns out that House A is in fact less ecologically hazardous than House B. While House A leaves their lawn alone, House B’s lawn is mowed using a riding gas lawn mower.

This study shows us that the solutions to fixing our lawns can’t be found in a “top five” list. Instead, the study emphasizes that fixing our lawns is really about reimagining much deeper structures rooted in the very fabric of American culture. 

 

The Road to a Sustainable Future: Urban Transportation Policy Reform

Atlanta, Georgia, known as the “poster child of sprawl,” may not be the first place you think of when imagining a forward-thinking city, however, an innovative project aims to combat the issue of congestion as Atlanta’s population doubles in the next fifteen years and turn Atlanta into a walkable and bikeable city. Like New York City’s High Line or Chicago’s 606, 22 miles of disused railroad tracks are to be transformed into a greenway loop by 2030, open to pedestrians and cyclists. This so-called “BeltLine,” proposed in 2001, is a breakthrough in the way that urban planners approach cities — in terms of sustainability, livability, and coherency.

According to the United Nations, more than half of the world’s population resides in urban areas, and this number is predicted to rise to two-thirds by 2050. This presents an unprecedented opportunity for 21st-century metropolises to lessen the Western world’s dependence on fossil fuels and provide citizens with alternatives such as bicycling, public transit and walking, following Atlanta’s example. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency estimates that one-seventh of global greenhouse gas emissions are caused by transportation and that number is also rising. By pursuing options that use less energy and cleaner forms of it, we will be able to not only prevent further global warming but also to improve the quality of life in cities by reducing traffic and smog.

In this beat I will explore the complex challenge of implementing innovative transportation policy reforms as well as sparking a cultural paradigm shift towards the goal of sustainable city-living. How do the obstacles facing the global South in this regard differ from those in the global North? What approaches are working well and in which areas could improvements be made? What roles will technology and lifestyle play in the future to reduce energy consumption and greenhouse gas emissions? In order to answer these questions, I will examine individual cities as case studies to formulate a hopeful yet critical view of the current state as well as the future of urban transportation.

A Toolkit for Transition: A Review of Take Back the Economy

In one of the cities most impacted by the decline of the United States’ economy, change is happening. Cleveland, Ohio used to be one of the epicenters of America’s industrial heartland– now it is serving as a model for how a city can recover from economic decline and urban decay. This model for change, known as “The Cleveland Model“, is centered within the Evergreen Cooperatives– a group of worker-owned cooperatives that are commited to building sustainable and democratic workplaces that benefit their communities.

Specifically, the Evergreen Cooperatives target the needs of Cleveland’s most dependable institutions, such as hospitals and universities, to ensure that jobs will stay in the city. Currently, Evergreen Cooperatives consists of a solar installation and weatherization program, an industrial-scale laundry service commited to a low environmental impact, and the largest urban food-producing greenhouse in the United States. Not only are these cooperatives owned by the workers themselves, but each is committed to employing those who live in some of the poorest neighborhoods of the city, where poverty rates can reach 30 percent.

A diagram depicted the exchange of resources in the Cleveland Model.

A visualization of the Cleveland Model via community-wealth.org

The Cleveland Model demonstrates how a community can ethically and sustainably redevelop, but how do other communities follow suit? In their book, Take Back the Economy: An Ethical Guide to Transforming our Communities, a team of geographers shows how people around the world are building such resilient community economies. Although the authors J.K. Gibson-Graham, Jenny Cameron, and Stephen Healy are all geographers with specialties ranging from feminism to the environment, the book is not a scholarly review. Rather, Take Back the Economy tells the stories of successful and inspiring projects while also providing tools and resources to help guide readers to make change themselves. In that way, Take Back the Economy is more than a book– it is a toolkit that can be used by activists, leaders, students, and academics alike.

The book explores how communities can make change happen in five different sectors of our community economies: work, business, markets, property, and finance. Each of these sectors is reframed to take into account our ethical responsibility to one another and our natural world. This approach helps us to see that places like Cleveland can serve as a compelling model for rethinking both work and business. Far beyond Cleveland, the book provides countless examples of groups of people who are making change happen in each of the five sectors of our community economies.

For instance, Take Back the Economy reframes work as a means to surviving well, which can benefit our material, social, community, and physical well-being. With the Cleveland Model, the cooperative-style of business gives marginalized workers a means to improve their material well-being, build stronger interpersonal relationships, and give back to their communities.”Evergreen has changed my life. It enabled me to be a contributer, not only to the community, but to society as well,” stated one worker. With the Cleveland Model, work is not just a means to make income, but it is also a way to increase personal well-being.

Take Back the Economy additionally provides tools that help us to rethink the different sectors of our community economies. In the case of business, the book provides an exercise called the “People’s Account” which breaks down business models to see how much revenue workers generate versus how much they actually get paid. In a typical corporation, minimum-wage earning workers only receive a small fraction of the profits they generate from working, leading to surplus profits that don’t always benefit the workers. While some surplus may be used to sustain the business, a lot is left to accumulate in the pockets of CEOs. Even so, CEOs can pack up and leave a community when a business model in another part of the world becomes more profitable, making these business models even less sustainable.

However, in cooperatives like those used in the Cleveland Model, workers collectively determine their wages so that they earn a reasonable income for the value of their work. At the same time, the cooperatives can generate collective wealth that can be invested back in their business and in their community. Especially important to Cleveland, the businesses are owned by members of the community, meaning the businesses are more likely to remain invested in the city, creating long-term and reliable jobs. As one worker in Cleveland noted, “I am an owner, not just a worker. I help to make decisions within the community.”

Take Back the Economy goes even further to explore redevelopment strategies ranging from alternative currencies to communal ownership of land. No matter the topic, the stories, tools, and frameworks provided by the book are both accessible and empowering to the reader. While considerable engagement, organizing, and work is needed to transform our communities, the ideas and examples in Take Back the Economy can serve as a starting place. With many communities already paving the way, more can work together to a build a more ethical and sustainable world.

Can Megacities Be Sustainable?

Skyline of Tokyo during the night

Picture taken by toykoform (flickr.com)

9/15/2015 by Alisha Pegan

As the plane descends for landing, what is your first thought when you peek out the airplane window and take in the countless lights, cars, and buildings living below?

A common reaction is “WOW. There are so, so many!”. Yes, so many things and people buzzing about and taking up resources, water, energy, human capital. So, what feeds it all? Where does the supply begin and where does it end? And in the perspective of sustainability: is there a way to make it full circle? Is there and could there be a self-sustaining megacity?

This question is a global concern. The WorldBank statistics indicate that currently 54% of the global population lives in urban areas and by 2030 it will increase 66%. As urban density increases, county and city governments are investigating and applying strategies to manage the people, as well as their short and long term needs, while providing a high quality of life. Navigating the intercept of quality of life and sustainability on a city-wide level can provide systematic solutions, such as livability, green infrastructure, and resilience. Various megacities will serve as case studies elaborating best and worst cases for different mitigation and adaption strategies, and since these diverse solutions need diverse input from politicians, citizens, intellects, and artists, there will also be investigations of why the strategies may or may not work from social, environmental, and economic factors.