Publisher Comments
The bestselling author of The End of Nature issues an impassioned call to arms for an economy that creates community and ennobles our lives
In this powerful and provocative manifesto, Bill McKibben offers the biggest challenge in a generation to the prevailing view of our economy. For the first time in human history, he observes, “more” is no longer synonymous with “better”—indeed, for many of us, they have become almost opposites. McKibben puts forward a new way to think about the things we buy, the food we eat, the energy we use, and the money that pays for it all. Our purchases, he says, need not be at odds with the things we truly value.
McKibben’s animating idea is that we need to move beyond “growth” as the paramount economic ideal and pursue prosperity in a more local direction, with cities, suburbs, and regions producing more of their own food, generating more of their own energy, and even creating more of their own culture and entertainment. He shows this concept blossoming around the world with striking results, from the burgeoning economies of India and China to the more mature societies of Europe and New England. For those who worry about environmental threats, he offers a route out of the worst of those problems; for those who wonder if there isn’t something more to life than buying, he provides the insight to think about one’s life as an individual and as a member of a larger community.
McKibben offers a realistic, if challenging, scenario for a hopeful future. As he so eloquently shows, the more we nurture the essential humanity of our economy, the more we will recapture our own.
Bill McKibben is the author of ten books, including The End of Nature, The Age of Missing Information, and Enough: Staying Human in an Engineered Age. A former staff writer for The New Yorker, he writes regularly for Harper's, The Atlantic Monthly, and The New York Review of Books, among other publications. He is a scholar in residence at Middlebury College and lives in Vermont with his wife, the writer Sue Halpern, and their daughter. In this manifesto, Bill McKibben offers the biggest challenge in a generation to the prevailing view of our economy. For the first time in human history, he observes, "more" is no longer synonymous with "better"—indeed, for many of us, they have become almost opposites. McKibben puts forward a new way to think about the things we buy, the food we eat, the energy we use, and the money that pays for it all. The animating idea of Deep Economy is that we need to move beyond "growth" as the paramount economic ideal and pursue prosperity in a more local direction, with cities, suburbs, and regions producing more of their own food, generating more of their own energy, and even creating more of their own culture and entertainment. McKibben shows this concept blossoming around the world with striking results, from the burgeoning economies of India and China to the more mature societies of Europe and New England. For those who worry about environmental threats, he offers a route out of the worst of those problems; for those who wonder if there isn't something more to life than buying, he provides the insight to think about one's life as an individual and as a member of a larger community. A generation ago, many environmentalists advocated "deep ecology," through which they sought to move beyond short-term, piecemeal reforms by asking profound questions about the choices people make in their daily lives. McKibben demonstrates that we need a similar shift in our thinking about economics—we need to think about the "deep economy" that takes human satisfaction and societal durability more seriously. As he shows, the more we nurture the essential humanity of our economy, the more we will recapture our own. "It would be unwise to dismiss McKibben's ideas as pipe dreams or Luddism. He makes his case on anecdotal, environmental, moral and, as it were, aesthetic grounds. An attentive, widely traveled writer and environmentalist, McKibben cites the success of local projects around the world, from a rabbit-raising academy in China to a Guatemalan cooperative that manufactures farm machinery from old bicycles."—Lance Morrow, The New York Times Book Review "It would be unwise to dismiss McKibben's ideas as pipe dreams or Luddism. He makes his case on anecdotal, environmental, moral and, as it were, aesthetic grounds. An attentive, widely traveled writer and environmentalist, McKibben cites the success of local projects around the world, from a rabbit-raising academy in China to a Guatemalan cooperative that manufactures farm machinery from old bicycles."—Lance Morrow, The New York Times Book Review "I'd like to see Deep Economy read in every Econ 101 class. Bill McKibben asks the central human question: What is the economy for? The stakes here are terrifyingly high, but with his genial style and fascinating examples of alternative approaches, McKibben convinces me that economics is anything but dismal—if only we can learn to do it right!"—Barbara Ehrenreich, author of Nickel and Dimed "The cult of growth and globalization has seldom been so effectively challenged as by Bill McKibben in Deep Economy. But this bracing tonic of a book also throws the bright light of McKibben's matchless journalism on the vibrant local economies now springing up like mushrooms in the shadow of globalization. Deep Economy fills you with a hope and a sense of fresh possibility."—Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma "How is our nation going to cope with global warming, peak oil, inequality, and a growing sense of isolation? Bill McKibben provides the simple but brilliant answer the economists have missed—we need to create 'depth' through local interdependence and sustainable use of resources. I will be requiring this inspiring book for my students, and passionately recommending it to everyone else I know."—Juliet Schor, professor of sociology, Boston College, and author of The Overspent American "Bill McKibben works on the frontiers of new understandings and returns with his startling and lucid revelations of the possible future. A saner human-scale world does exist—just over the horizon—and McKibben introduces us to the people and ideas leading us there."—William Greider, author of The Soul of Capitalism: Opening Paths to a Moral Economy "Beginning with his prescient treatise on global warming, The End of Nature, McKibben has been investigating and elucidating some of the most confounding aspects of our lives. He now brings his signature clarity of thought and handsomely crafted prose to a pivotal, complicated subject, the negative consequences of our growth-oriented economy. McKibben incisively interprets a staggering array of studies that document the symbiotic relationship between fossil fuels and five decades of dizzying economic growth, and the many ways the pursuit of ever-higher corporate profits has led to environmental havoc and neglect of people's most basic needs. At once reportorial, philosophic, and anecdotal, McKibben, intoning the mantra 'more is not better,' takes measure of diminishing returns. With eroding "I'd like to see Deep Economy read in every Econ 101 class. Bill McKibben asks the central human question: What is the economy for? The stakes here are terrifyingly high, but with his genial style and fascinating examples of alternative approaches, McKibben convinces me that economics is anything but dismal—if only we can learn to do it right!"—Barbara Ehrenreich, author of Nickel and Dimed "The cult of growth and globalization has seldom been so effectively challenged as by Bill McKibben in Deep Economy. But this bracing tonic of a book also throws the bright light of McKibben's matchless journalism on the vibrant local economies now springing up like mushrooms in the shadow of globalization. Deep Economy fills you with a hope and a sense of fresh possibility."—Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma "How is our nation going to cope with global warming, peak oil, inequality, and a growing sense of isolation? Bill McKibben provides the simple but brilliant answer the economists have missed—we need to create 'depth' through local interdependence and sustainable use of resources. I will be requiring this inspiring book for my students, and passionately recommending it to everyone else I know."—Juliet Schor, professor of sociology, Boston College, and author of The Overspent American "Bill McKibben works on the frontiers of new understandings and returns with his startling and lucid revelations of the possible future. A saner human-scale world does exist—just over the horizon—and McKibben introduces us to the people and ideas leading us there."—William Greider, author of The Soul of Capitalism: Opening Paths to a Moral Economy "Masterfully crafted, deeply thoughtful and mind-expanding. . . . An incisive critique of the unintended consequences of our…growth-oriented economy.”—Los Angeles Times
“A hopeful manifesto.”—Boston Globe
"What makes McKibben's book stand out is the completeness of his arguments and his real-world approach to solutions."—USA Today
“McKibben is a fitting prophet… [His] dexterity as a keen observer and stellar wordsmith makes Deep Economy well worth reading.”—The Globe and Mail (Toronto)
“Wise and…optimistic.”—The Courier-Journal of Louisville
“McKibben’s proposals for new, less growth-centered ways of thinking about economics are intriguing, and offer hope that change is possible.”—Publishers Weekly (Starred Review)
“[McKibben] ably argues [that] growth has increased inequality and decreased human happiness.”—Kirkus Reviews Bill McKibben is the author of ten books, including The End of Nature, The Age of Missing Information, and Enough: Staying Human in an Engineered Age. A former staff writer for The New Yorker, he writes regularly for Harper’s, The Atlantic Monthly, and The New York Review of Books, among other publications. He is a scholar in residence at Middlebury College and lives in Vermont with his wife, the writer Sue Halpern, and their daughter. Chapter One After Growth For almost all of human history, said the great economist John Maynard Keynes, from “say, two thousand years before Christ down to the beginning of the eighteenth century, there was really no great change in the standard of living of the average man in the civilized centers of the earth. Ups and downs, certainly visitations of plague, famine and war, golden intervals, but no progressive violent change.” At the utmost, Keynes calculated, the standard of living had increased 100 percent over those four thousand years. The reason was, basically, that we didn’t learn how to do anything new. Before history began we’d learned about fire, language, cattle, the wheel, the plow, the sail, the pot. We had banks and governments and mathematics and religion.1 And then, in 1712, something new finally happened. A British inventor named Thomas Newcomen developed the first practical steam engine. He burned coal, and used the steam pressure built up in his boiler to drive a pump that, in turn, drained water from coal mines, allowing them to operate far more cheaply and efficiently. How much more efficiently? His engine replaced a team of five hundred horses walking in a circle.2 And from there—well, things accelerated. In the words of the economist Jeffrey Sachs, “The steam engine marked the decisive turning point of human history.” Suddenly, instead of turning handles and cranks with their own muscles or with the muscles of their animals (which had in turn to be fed by grain that required hard labor in the fields), men and women could exploit the earth’s storehouse of fossilized energy to do the turning for them. First coal, then oil, then natural gas allowed for everything we consider normal and obvious about the modern world, from making fertilizer to making steel to making electricity. These in turn fed all the subsidiary revolutions in transportation and chemistry and communications, right down to the electron-based information age we now inhabit. Suddenly, one-hundred-percent growth in the standard of living could be accomplished in a few decades, not a few millennia. In some ways, the invention of the idea of economic growth was almost as significant as the invention of fossil fuel power. It also took a little longer. It’s true that by 1776 Adam Smith was noting in The Wealth of Nations that “it is not the actual greatness of national wealth, but its continued increase” which raises wages. But, as the economist Benjamin Friedman points out in The Moral Consequences of Economic Growth, his recent and compelling argument for economic expansion, it’s “unclear whether the thinkers of the mid-18th century even understood the concept of economic growth in the modern sense of sustained increase over time,” or whether they thought the transition to modern commerce was a onetime event—that they’d soon hit a new plateau.3 The theorists didn’t control affairs, though; and the dynamic entrepreneurial actors unleashed by the new economic revolution soon showed that businesses could keep improving their operations, apparently indefinitely. By the early twentieth century, increasing efficiency had become very nearly a religion, especially in the United States, where stopwatch-wielding experts like Frederick Taylor broke every task into its smallest parts, wiping out inefficiencies with all the zeal of a pastor hunting sins, and with far more success. (Indeed, as many historians have noted, religious belief and economic expansion were soon firmly intertwined: “economic effort, and the material progress that it brought, were central to the vision of moral progress,” notes Friedman.)4 Soon, as Jeremy Rifkin observes, the efficiency revolution encompassed everything, not just factory work but homemaking, schoolteaching, and all the other tasks of modern life: “efficiency became the ultimate tool for exploiting both the earth’s resources in order to advance material wealth and human progress.” As the nation’s school superintendents were warned at a meeting in 1912, “the call for efficiency is felt everywhere throughout the length and breadth of the land, and the demand is becoming more insistent every day.” As a result, “the schools as well as other business institutions, must submit to the test of efficiency.”5 It was a god from whom there was no appeal. Even so, policy makers and economists didn’t really become fixated on growing the total size of the economy until after World War II. An economic historian named Robert Collins recently described the rise of what he called “growthmanship” in the United States. During the Great Depression, he pointed out, mainstream economists thought the American economy was “mature.” In the words of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, “our industrial plant is built. . . . Our last frontier has long since been reached. . . . Our task now is not discovery or exploitation of natural resources, or necessarily producing more goods. It is the soberer, less dramatic business of administering resources and plants already in hand . . . of adapting economic organizations to the service of the people.” It was left to former president Herbert Hoover to protest that “we are yet but on the frontiers of development,” that there were “a thousand inventions in the lockers of science . . . which have not yet come to light.” And Hoover, of course, did not carry the day. Even a decade later, as the country began to emerge from hardship with the boom that followed Pearl Harbor, many businessmen—the steelmakers, the utility executives, the oilmen—were reluctant to build new plants, fearing that overproduction might bring on another depression. But they were wrong. Mobilization for war proved just how fast the economy could grow; by 1943, even in the midst of battle, the National Resources Planning Board sent this report to Roosevelt: “Our expanding economy is likely to surpass the wildest estimates of a few years back and is capable of bringing to all of our people freedom, security and adventure in richer measure than ever before in history.” From that point on, growth became America’s mantra, and then the world’s. Hoover had been right—there were all kinds of technological advances to come. Plastics. Cars that kept dropping in price. Television. Cheap air-conditioning that opened whole regions of the country to masses of people. Per capita gross national product grew 24 percent between 1947 and 1960, and during that year’s presidential election John F. Kennedy insisted he could speed it up if the voters would only reject “those who have held back the growth of the U.S.” Indeed, he proved correct: between 1961 and 1965, GNP grew more than 5 percent a year while the percentage of Americans living in poverty dropped by nearly half. Economists scrambled to catch up, and in doing so they built the base for modern growth theory. The general mood was captured by Lyndon Johnson, who, not long after moving into the White House, told an aide: “I’m sick of all the people who talk about the things we can’t do. Hell, we’re the richest country in the world, the most powerful. We can do it all. . . . We can do it if we believe it.” And he wasn’t the only one. From Moscow Nikita Khrushchev thundered, “Growth of industrial and agricultural production is the battering ram with which we shall smash the capitalist system.” There were hiccups along the way, as Robert Collins points out in his account. LBJ& Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.
Imprint: Times Books
Distributor: MPS
Publication Date: 03-06-2007
Pages: 272
Measurements: 9.25in X 6.13in |
