In case you missed it, “abundance” is the word of the moment because two centrist Democrats wrote a book with that title. It is the definitive document of the neoliberal “abundance” doctrine: all of our problems will be solved via deregulation and technology plus a tiny dash of sensible regulation, which will unlock an endless flow of treats powered by magic. Lab meat, vertical farms, mass desalinization, “green” jet fuel, “star pills” (not a joke), the list of absurdities goes on and on.
It's not worth my time to break down this idiocy is detail. But the broad concept of “abundance” requires attention.
Generally, people love to propose non-structural solutions to structural problems. These non-solutions are often packaged in ways that are meant to be palatable to various constituencies whose support is deemed necessary for their success. This flows from a belief that structural change is impractical, so realism demands that we only offer a slightly modified version of the present.
From this starting point, “abundance” advocates see the hegemony of mass consumerism, industrial production, and high technology as unchangeable. At its root, this is a condescending view premised on the idea that people are incapable of appreciating anything other than our hell society. It’s both cynical and ahistorical.
Rhetorically, the goal of the "abundance" framing is to turn the ideological terrain of ecological possibilities into a binary: less stuff or more stuff. Either you're for "abundance" or "austerity." If you question whether more slop would actually make our lives better, you get hit with "austerity."
The other aspect of this is technology. The binary here is supposed to be "innovation" or "primitivism." If you question whether it's even possible to produce sustainable slop, you get hit with "primitivism."
We don't have to accept this ridiculous framing.
The reality is that an abundance of some things—roads, power plants, hot dogs—might make it impossible to have an abundance of other things, like wildlife, a functioning climate, and good health.
But the "abundance" shills wave away even this obvious problem by claiming the mandate of the masses: people love their cars, their climate-controlled McMansions, their heart attacks. And they assure us that the ecological problems associated with an abundance of those things are either non-problems solved by simply thinking about them differently or minor technical issues that can be buried under a LaRouchite avalanche of nuclear power plants.
A light pink version of this approach was recently peddled in the pages of the demonic New York Times in an op-ed written by two members of the Climate & Community Institute, a "progressive policy think-tank developing cutting-edge research." This version of "abundance" largely accepts the premise of the neoliberal version—that more is more and any problems associated with our current rate of production and consumption are solvable technical issues—but it seeks to at least ameliorate some of the more egregious consequences: the social and ecological devastation caused by lithium mining, the agony of playing the private housing market, the regressive nature of certain expenses, etc., while distributing the spoils of the green economy more equitably. It notably favors some of the same deregulatory agenda as the neoliberal version of "abundance," while making the case that the state must play a more central role.
Suffice to say, I find this version of "abundance" unconvincing. Whether a billion new electric cars use Fair Trade lithium or not doesn't change the outcome of such an approach: ecological collapse and mass exploitation. The childish belief that biophysical limits aren't real remains at the crux of this "abundance" project, too, and no amount of misplaced faith in induction cooktops will change that.
The predominant counter argument to these two flavors of abundance is degrowth. While I agree with the broad goals of degrowth, the specific vision championed by most degrowth advocates relies on an egalitarian distribution of industrial goods. It calls for "modern housing, healthcare, education, heating/cooling, transit, washing machines, refrigerators, induction stoves, sanitation systems, computers, mobile phones, internet, etc...for all 8.5 billion people." Its advocates claim this can be sustainably provided based on calculations of the energy and material inputs necessary to produce and operate all of that stuff.
The problem is that the calculations are laughable. Here's an example of just one of the "limitations" of the study on which this claim is based: "...we only account for the buildings that are representative for each DLS (decent living standards) dimension but do not include additional stocks needed to deliver the service in each DLS dimension, e.g., beds and medical instruments for health care...Similarly, the infrastructure required to support communications, i.e. clouds, servers, and networks, is missing; thus, the MF (materials footprints) of these dimensions may be underestimated. Similar restraints apply to the remaining dimensions."
Hmmm, that does seem like somewhat of a "limitation." Here's just a little taste of how big of a limitation that might be: "[E]ven without further growth in energy use, a carbon neutral US health care system would gobble up the entire US renewable energy production—sun, wind, hydroelectric, wood, geothermal, biofuels, and waste." Here's another: "A study of cataract surgery in the UK...shows that the manufacturing of disposable materials [alone] accounts for more than half of the total carbon footprint of the procedure."
Here's another "limitation" from the study: "[T]he presented MF indicates the total mass extracted from the natural environment and processed, which is only a rough indication of the environmental impacts of materials use, such as land degradation and energy demand for material processing. Therefore it cannot replace more specific impact assessments, such as toxicity, eutrophication, and carbon footprint." Yeah, whoops, that seems like it might matter.
And one last one: "[T]he data...used to model the buildings only have information on the material requirements...but do not have information regarding the construction or end of life phase." Dang, seems like people might be throwing away all of those toys at some point, hopefully it's not a big deal!
Clearly, this is all beyond ridiculous, but it doesn't stop the advocates of this specific degrowth vision from being arrogantly confident in their bunk numbers and utterly dismissive of anyone who questions them.
Big picture, our reality is very straightforward: we have crossed 7 of 9 planetary boundaries. Those boundaries do not care one iota about our intentions or our preferred timeline or our political considerations. They do not care about our perceived "needs." They don't even care about the fate of our species. They are incapable of knowing or caring about anything because they are nothing more than real world math problems, and no amount of rhetorical manipulation will buy us any more time or leeway from them.
So the fact that "abundance" advocates regard electric cars as a more feasible solution than walking doesn't change the reality: we cannot keep extracting resources and producing energy at a high pace if humanity is to live.
The only way to go back across planetary boundaries is by becoming a low-energy civilization. This would mean a severe pruning back of industrialism and a wholesale commitment to ecological regeneration as the bedrock of all other forms of production. If we are incredibly lucky and smart, we can have MRIs and a livable planet, but what we cannot have is an "abundance" of electricity, synthetic housing, industrial appliances, and so on.
We can argue until we're blue in the face about whose vision is more desirable, but it will not alter the fact that wholesale change is coming regardless. We will go back across planetary boundaries one way or the other. We will either become a low-energy civilization or no civilization at all.
On our current trajectory, the stark reality is that we are barreling towards a hellish collapse. It may, in fact, be too late to prevent such a dismal fate, but we are nonetheless in full control of ourselves today. We can choose to respond constructively, giving ourselves the best chance of surviving an unthinkable planetary crisis, or we can cling to various fantasies and make it that much worse.
So what should we do instead of this self-defeating "abundance"? What path can improve quality of life while drastically reducing production and consumption? What model could make us more resilient, more comfortable, and more likely to survive a global ecological meltdown? The answer is low-tech library socialism.
There is already more than enough stuff to go around. We are drowning in the products of our malignant economy. But they are unequally distributed. Redistributing that stuff on an individual basis is both ecologically and socially inadequate. A collective redistribution that socializes ownership is the only way forward.
The reason is simple. It is obviously impossible and undesirable for each of us to own, say, every tool we may ever want or need. This is the fantasy offered by the various flavors of "abundance", propped up by juvenile notions about technology. But such a scenario would necessitate a vast increase in production, and the greater justice of this material equity would not help one bit ecologically.
But it is entirely reasonable, practical, and ecologically sound to give everyone access to a vast array of tools via a tool library. In fact, we could stop tool production entirely and still have more than enough tools to go around.
And a program for library socialism is also more politically feasible and palatable to a broader demographic than the hollow vision of "abundance." It represents a very real opportunity for both incremental improvement to quality of life and revolution. It is suited to our moment and our context. It is achievable and desirable.
Such a vision for low-tech library socialism is fully compatible with a radical vision for degrowth and real abundance. An abundance of real housing, real luxuries, real transportation, real climate control, real art, real joy, real wealth, real education, real community, real sanitation, and real food.
And it’s not too late to begin.
I was thinking about smartphones the other day. Like if we can't build a world where smartphones are not only no longer needed but no longer desirable then we've failed so bad. I imagine we'll have plenty knocking about for a long time and if they can be repaired - and the demands placed upon them reduced they probably can survive. So I was thinking there are times when they can be useful - so just have them as items that can be loaned from a tool library. The data centres will all be gone by then anyway so smartphones won't need to be like they are today and that will do us all a favour.
Agree with all that you stated. Developing good enough relations with (potentially difficult) neighbours (that you haven’t chosen) is a very good place to begin the process of sharing. I’m trying to pluck up the courage to suggest sharing a robust lawnmower. I think our socially developing group might be able to manage this but I’m not sure yet. We have a community run ‘sharing shed’ that works well for other items.