I have been promising/threatening for a while to cover degrowth, and thanks to a United States Society for Ecological Economics book club, now I will. In Less is More, economic anthropologist Jason Hickel identifies capitalism as the cause of our problems—the sort of criticism that makes many people really uncomfortable. Fortunately, he is an eloquent and charismatic spokesman who patiently but firmly walks you through the history of capitalism, exposes flaws of proposed fixes, and then lays out a litany of sensible solutions. It quickly confirms that sinking feeling most of us will have: that the economy is not working for us. What is perhaps eye-opening is that this is not by accident, but by design.

Less is More: How Degrowth Will Save the World, written by Jason Hickel, published by William Heinemann in December 2020 (hardback, 318 pages)

It helps, as Hickel quickly does, to clarify two things. First, he does not object to economic growth per se. Indeed, many of the world’s poorest countries need to grow further to meet basic human needs. The problem is growth for growth’s sake. In nature, growth is ubiquitous but normally follows a sigmoidal curve of some kind, eventually coming to a halt. Capitalism is different, which brings us to point two. People often confuse capitalism with markets and trade, but they pre-date capitalism by millennia. This is all textbook Marx, but, Hickel explains, markets and trade are organised around use-value: we trade for what is useful to us. Capitalism, on the other hand, is organised around exchange-value: goods are sold to make a profit, which is then reinvested to generate more profit. Growth is a structural imperative of capitalism: “It is a system that pulls ever-expanding quantities of nature and human labour into circuits of accumulation” (p. 40). The results are plain for all to see: environmental destruction and human immiseration benefitting a small minority.

In the first half of the book, Hickel prepares the reader by providing a history of capitalism. He starts in medieval Europe, where commoners violently revolted against feudalism, their success partially due to the bubonic plague killing so many people that labour became scarcer. For a while, a more egalitarian society developed but was soon crushed by economic elites violently enclosing the commons, especially in England, forcing people into wage labour. The profits thus reaped were reinvested overseas in the even more violent practices of colonialism and slavery. Once in motion, this self-reinforcing cycle has kept going for the last five centuries, taking us to neoliberalism today. Along the way, economists forgot about the natural world, blithely ignoring that infinite growth on a finite planet is a recipe for disaster.

I could dwell more on this fascinating history, but we have to keep moving, though not before highlighting one other aspect. Capitalism was enabled as much by a changing worldview for which Hickel blames thinkers such as Francis Bacon and René Descartes. Especially the latter’s dualism, which cast humans as apart from nature rather than a part of nature, removed any remaining sense of restraint. “Land became property. Living beings became things. Ecosystems became resources” (p. 70). This echoes Eileen Crist’s furious argument that language powerfully shapes our worldview. He returns to this in the final and possibly most challenging chapter. The animist views of our ancestors imbued our living world with spirit and agency; something Western religions and philosophies tried to stamp out, declaring it heretical or irrational. Now, think of animism what you will, but it usefully is characterised by a respect for the natural world and by cultural taboos on rampant extraction. We can draw lessons from this and Hickel contends that “we must learn to see ourselves once again as part of a broader community of living beings. If our approach to degrowth does not have this ethic at its heart, then we have missed the point” (p. 271).

“The fundamental flaw with [prominent technological and economic “solutions”] is that they refuse to question whether more growth is necessary.”

Hickel’s other task in this first part is to patiently pick over some prominent technological and economic “solutions” and expose their flaws. This includes the IPCC incorporating untested negative-emissions technology in most of its models, “green growth” solutions that are little more than corporations and governments greenwashing business-as-usual in sometimes inventive ways, and the lure of techno-fixes including risky geo-engineering proposals to tinker with our global climate. The fundamental flaw uniting them is that they refuse to question whether more growth is necessary. Hickel also disarms the claim that resource use and economic growth have decoupled and our economies are dematerialising. This confirms what I suspected about Andrew McAfee’s book More from Less: look at the global flow of materials and energy, and it is revealed for the accounting trick it is because you ignored outsourcing of industries. The Jevons paradox, the observation that efficiency gains somehow never translate into less resource use, is no paradox at all when hitched to the growth imperative: “technology is used not to do the same amount of stuff in less time, but rather to do more stuff in the same amount of time” (p. 153).

So what does this growth achieve? Hickel admits that, up to a certain point, economic growth is good, necessary even, but research shows it has rapidly diminishing returns after that. Numerous poor countries score higher on measures of human well-being than wealthy ones. Why? Turns out that investing in public goods and services (healthcare, housing, education, public transport, etc.) matters more to people’s everyday lives. Who would have thought?!

The second half of the book presents solutions. Hickel acknowledges Giorgos Kallis’s call for a culture of self-limitation but thinks on a bigger canvas. To stave off ecological collapse we need to limit growth by reorganising the economy. This is degrowth: “a planned downscaling of energy and resource use to bring the economy back into balance with the living world in a safe, just and equitable way” (p. 29). Is that not a recession? No, responds Hickel, recessions happen in a growth-dependent economy. Degrowth calls for “a different kind of economy altogether – an economy that doesn’t need growth in the first place” (p. 205), one organised around human needs rather than capital accumulation. What I feel is insufficiently emphasized here, and led to objections that I have seen more explicitly addressed in subsequent writing, is that degrowth is not forever either. It is a necessary course correction to a system in overshoot, a transitional phase towards a steady-state economy, or (in Hickel’s words) a post-capitalist world.

“[Hickel’s solutions] rely on both changing the (currently perverse) incentives inherent in the system and active government intervention and regulation.”

For Hickel, degrowth has two important components. The first one is obvious: reduce material and energy use to bring us back to within planetary boundaries (this refers to the framework of Johan Rockström and colleagues). How? We could end planned obsolescence, curb advertising, shift from ownership to “usership” (i.e. share things such as cars or power tools), address food waste, and scale down or eliminate ecologically destructive industries. The second component, vital to the success of the first, is to address economic inequality (the subject of his previous book). How? We could tax the ultra-wealthy more or cap income and wealth and redistribute the excess, eliminate tax havens, and renationalise public services. According to Hickel, there is enough money sloshing around the system to finance public services globally.

What about jobs? Hickel admits that “here’s where things get tricky” (p. 221) as decreasing production will eliminate jobs. He suggests retraining programmes, job guarantees, and especially a shorter working week. That last one already has a proven track record. People’s sense of happiness increases when they can finally reap the benefits of all those efficiency improvements we have achieved and spend time on more meaningful activities such as volunteering or caring for children and elderly relatives. Keep in mind, Hickel adds, that when the aim of goods and services is not to maximize profit, we could get by with less money. What ultimately matters is “welfare purchasing power”: what your money can buy you.

In short, his proposals rely on both changing the (currently perverse) incentives inherent in the system and active government intervention and regulation. Given that capitalism is the water in which we all swim, this will take a certain amount of deprogramming your mind. However, consider his suggestions and it is hard to disagree with his assessment that “In a growth-oriented system, the objective is not to satisfy human needs, but to avoid satisfying human needs” (p. 233). Capitalism has always artificially and often violently created scarcities of all kinds. Much here lines up with ideas in ecological economics and, if not quite the same, the two currents of thought seem close bedfellows to me.

“Of all the proposals I have come across, [degrowth] strikes me as the only sensible one, calling out the roots of the problem instead of meekly tinkering around the edges.”

Less is More resonated with me to an exceptional degree but did leave me with some questions and concerns. First is the how. I will give Hickel bonus points for going beyond mere exhortations to “do something”, providing an actionable roadmap, and admitting that none of this will be easy. The rich will be extremely hostile to the suggestion that governments play Robin Hood and redistribute their wealth to the poor, so how do you effect this when they exert undue influence on politics? Furthermore, I think even many “regular” people will have a hard time voluntarily abandoning certain ecologically destructive habits and activities. Entrenched cultural values and societal norms create a lot of inertia. Will introducing certain measures have unexpected consequences? How do you get nations to cooperate to achieve this vision globally? Hickel admits that he is no political strategist, adding only “that [it] will require a movement, as with every struggle for social and ecological justice in history” (p. 242). Given Walter Scheidel’s work that suggests that, historically, economic inequality has never died peacefully, I worry that this might well involve bloody violence. Simultaneously, past civil movements managed to enter the political arena, so what can we learn from their struggles?

My second concern is material (literally). Hickel urges that addressing climate change means transitioning away from fossil fuels towards renewable energy. Though he acknowledges that constructing the needed infrastructure has an immense material footprint and will require large amounts of mining, he omits that, once built, we have to maintain and replace machines as they wear out, requiring continuous material input. He briefly mentions the problem of declining ore grades but omits any mention of the hard limit of energy return on investment: at some point, we will face an endgame where it will take more energy to extract certain materials than they will generate. Even if we curb the worst excesses of capitalism and consumerism, we are still grinding our way through vast reserves of materials, including metals and minerals, that are not renewable on a human time scale, or not at all.

Hickel makes an incredibly compelling case for degrowth. Of all the proposals I have come across, it strikes me as the only sensible one, calling out the roots of the problem instead of meekly tinkering around the edges. This will not be the last book I will review on this intriguing topic. Less is More was published in 2020 so since will have been extensively analysed and criticized. The degrowth movement likely has responded to the points I raised above, and many others besides. And, with all due respect to Hickel, this movement is bigger than him. The Future Is Degrowth was already on my radar but I am particularly excited by the upcoming English translation (finally!) of the French book by the equally eloquent Timothée Parrique.

Less is More

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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The best way to introduce this book is to quote the first sentence of the blurb: “Techno-Fix challenges the pervasive belief that technological innovation will save us from the dire consequences of the 300-year fossil-fuelled binge known as modern industrial civilization“. Stinging, provocative, and radical, Techno-Fix puts its fingers on many a sore spot with its searing critique.

Techno-Fix: Why Technology Won’t Save Us or the Environment, written by Michael Huesemann and Joyce Huesemann, published by New Society Publishers in September 2011 (paperback, 435 pages)

You might ask why, in 2021, I would bother reviewing a book published ten years ago. Both for the prosaic reason that I have had this book for some years without reading it, and because I am working on a little something that I cannot divulge yet. Plus, as it turns out, because this book is still relevant despite having been published in 2011.

The Huesemanns, Michael a biotechnologist with an interest in sustainability, Joyce an academic and activist, pull no punches in Techno-Fix. Our technology has brought us tremendous affluence and a world population growth spurt, but it also has unintended consequences that are both unavoidable and unpredictable. Some examples discussed here are climate change resulting from the generation of energy, the unknown effects of most synthetic chemicals, the pollution accompanying industrial activities, or the way the introduction of the car reshaped the world.

Even more outspoken is their statement that most technology is exploitative, abusing ecosystems, animals, and other humans. The industrial and globalised nature of much technology blunts us to this by creating distance in either space or time between exploiter and exploited. Do you know where your stuff comes from and who made it? Do you have a care for the planet your grandchildren will inherit? With the same fury that would later characterise Abundant Earth, the authors speak of the human domination of nature and the brainwashing by television and other mass media. The frequent references to TV might seem outdated given how online social media has ballooned in the last decade, but it has arguably not changed the beast much. And where free-market trade does not get us the needed resources, “high-tech military technology plays a key role in ensuring the continued exploitation and control of natural resources that are essential to maintaining the materialistic consumer lifestyle” (p. 68). Theirs is a bleak outlook on our modern society indeed.

“”high-tech military technology plays a key role in ensuring the continued exploitation and control of natural resources that are essential to maintaining the materialistic consumer lifestyle” (p. 68). Theirs is a bleak outlook on our modern society indeed.”

Surely, new technology can fix the problems old technology created? To the Huesemanns, counter-technologies such as geo-engineering schemes are like handing you another spade as you are digging your own grave—they come with their own unintended consequences. Furthermore, they write, efficiency gains (e.g. dematerialisation) have their limits and are often followed by increased consumption, a phenomenon known as the Jevons paradox. Ironically, despite increased affluence in the developed world, psychological research shows that happiness and well-being have not increased. Instead, we are stuck on a hedonic treadmill, furiously desiring ever more. The profit motive behind most technological developments results in solutions that benefit corporations and their shareholders, not the public at large.

Since these drawbacks are known, why does the belief in technological progress persist? The authors draw parallels between religious faith and techno-optimism, with the latter rising as the former waned. Furthermore, seemingly objective practices such as risk assessments and cost-benefit analyses are skewed towards continued technological development, downplaying or neglecting externalized costs. Finally, they take serious issue with the uncritical acceptance of new technologies due to the widespread belief that progress is inevitable and that technology is value-neutral, i.e. just a tool that can be used for good or evil.

Up to this point, much of what they write resonates with me, but I found their proposed solutions a mixed bag, strongly disagreeing with some of it. Since we cannot hex our way out of our problems with more technology, we need, I agree, a paradigm shift. They draw an interesting parallel with Kuhn’s book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Just as scientific dogmas disappear not because minds are changed but because the old guard dies, future generations will change the way we live. Current generations will, by and large, be too set in their ways, too unwilling to give up their affluence. Plus, expect pushback from industries and corporations that stand to lose the most.

“To the Huesemanns, counter-technologies […] are like handing you another spade as you are digging your own grave—they come with their own unintended consequences.”

I think it should be stressed at this point that the Huesemanns are not technophobes advocating a return to the caves (although some of what they say is not far off). Technology has a role to play if it is employed more responsibly. To avoid stepping off the Seneca Cliff into wholesale collapse, they envision a transition to a steady-state economy that acknowledges planetary boundaries (some Planetary Accounting might help) and practises long-term sustainability.

The latter would require three things. First, 100% renewable energy generation. This, they admit, brings its own share of problems, one of which they remarkably do not even mention: the need for a vast infrastructure constructed from non-renewable materials. Speaking of which, second, we need to use renewable resources exclusively and phase out non-renewable resources, or fully recycle them where this is not possible. Other than the difficulties—if not impossibility—of finding replacements for most non-renewable resources (including basic ones such as all metals), they pass over the fact that materials cannot be endlessly recycled, requiring a constant input of virgin material. Third, waste can only be discharged at rates than can be assimilated by ecosystems, and those that cannot be biodegraded (read: most synthetic chemicals) should be discontinued. They acknowledge that, clearly, this would require a sea change in our attitudes: a society that embraces self-limitation rather than unfettered abundance. All of this is necessary, I agree, but it also seems almost unimaginable. If the COVID-19 pandemic has revealed one thing, it is how willingly people will relinquish liberties and accept restrictions imposed upon them.

There were a further three issues raised here that I mildly to strongly disagree with. First, they are justifiedly very critical of the corruption of medicine by the so-called medico-industrial complex, specifically pharmaceutical companies. Rather, we should focus on prevention and lifestyle changes (sure), accept the inevitability of death (agreed), and embrace holistic medicine (hmmm). Once they start talking of the power of placebo effects and the body’s innate ability to heal itself I become a bit uneasy. There is a kernel of truth in there but, in my opinion, you are at the top of the slide that reads “pseudoscience this way”. Second, they appear to contradict themselves by stressing the importance of efficiency in saving precious resources but also wanting things to go small-scale and local again, holding up organic agriculture as a shining example (something of which I am sceptical). You cannot have it both ways, we scale up production processes for more than just profitability. Third, they surprisingly really have it in for genetic engineering. Other than completely ignoring the pervasiveness of horizontal gene transfer (one could say nature invented genetic modification billions of years before we did), they are unwilling to acknowledge it will be one of the necessary tools to keep feeding the world, deal with the impact of climate change on crops, or that we can take the best of both approaches.

“the Huesemanns are not technophobes advocating a return to the caves (although some of what they say is not far off). Technology has a role to play if it is employed more responsibly.”

The Huesemanns acknowledge human overpopulation at several points: “More people generally translate into more problems” (p. 44) and unless “the size of the human population [is] stabilized and reduced, and the materialistic consumer lifestyle largely abandoned, there is little chance that our environmental problems will be solved” (p. 83). This is more than most authors do. Shame, then, that they do not dedicate a chapter to the thorny questions of whether we should control world population, what population size is optimal for the planet, and how many children to have (if any).

Instead, their last chapter felt to me like barking up the wrong tree. It calls for “critical science” (sensu Ravetz), which would stand in opposition to current scientific practice. Scientists need to take responsibility for their work, refuse dubious research financed by corporations, and abandon the excuse that they are not responsible for the end-uses. These are some really good points, but to put the onus almost completely on scientists struck me as, frankly, ridiculous. Some of their claims here really irked me. People choose this profession because of the relatively good income? Or the claim on page 329 that scientists and engineers do not really mind that problems are not solved as it guarantees their long-term employment? I normally hear a related version of that argument from climate-change deniers. I do not know what planet the authors live on, but my personal experience in academia showed me a world where you routinely work 60 to 80 hours a week on grant money or (if you are really lucky) a 40-hour contract while chasing short-term projects (known as PhD and postdoc positions) well into your forties before having a shot at a permanent position. When conditions are this exploitative it is no wonder many choose the job security and decent income offered by companies. If you want to keep scientists out of the clutches of well-paid corporate jobs and have them act as whistle-blowers you will have to properly reward and protect them, something only briefly acknowledged here.

In light of my criticism, would I recommend Techno-Fix? Yes, there is much I thoroughly agree with here. I applaud the authors for tabling controversial ideas and challenging readers with probing questions and assignments in an appendix. Furthermore, the book is thoroughly researched and annotated, very readable (including regular, useful summaries), and still relevant.

Techno-Fix

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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The legendary British broadcaster and natural historian Sir David Attenborough needs almost no introduction. Since his first appearance on our television screens in 1954, he has gone on to a long and distinguished career presenting and narrating groundbreaking nature documentaries. And he shows no sign of slowing down. His voice and style have become so iconic that he has been dubbed the voice of nature. Over the years, he has increasingly expressed concern over the state of the natural world, and in A Life on Our Planet Attenborough fully engages with this topic. However, when you turn to the title page you will notice the name of a co-author, Jonnie Hughes, who directed the Netflix documentary tied in with this book. As Attenborough explains in his acknowledgements, Hughes has been particularly instrumental in the writing of the third part of the book, together with substantial assistance from the Science Team at WWF. This is Attenborough’s witness statement, yes, but whose vision of the future is it?

A Life on Our Planet: My Witness Statement and a Vision for the Future, written by Sir David Attenborough with Jonnie Hughes, published by Witness Books (an imprint of Ebury Press) in October 2020 (hardback, 282 pages)

A Life on Our Planet is divided into three parts, the first of which features highlights from Attenborough’s filmmaking career. Interwoven with vignettes that you might recognize from his autobiography are short episodes in the history of life on our planet and the rise of human civilization—this is Attenborough writing at his finest. Overlaid is his increasing concern for the changes he has witnessed. Each chapter heading ominously lists the human world population, the atmospheric carbon level, and the estimated percentage of wilderness remaining in a certain year.

The brief second part, “What Lies Ahead”, serves as a bridge to the third part and introduces several important concepts. One is the Great Acceleration, the period following the 1950s in which our activity and impact on the environment ramped up tremendously. The other is the Planetary Boundaries model drawn up by Johan Rockström and colleagues, which I brought up in my previous review of Planetary Accounting. This Earth systems science framework demarcates a “safe operating space for humanity” by identifying nine planetary processes and systems with their boundary values, several of which we have exceeded with our actions. In just ten pages, the book then looks ahead to some likely environmental tipping points in our near future, such as forest dieback and permafrost melting. I was expecting a longer section along the lines of Lynas’s Our Final Warning and Wallace-Well’s The Uninhabitable Earth, but clearly, this book has no interest in dwelling on the catastrophes ahead.

“Interwoven with autobiographical vignettes are short episodes in the history of life on our planet and the rise of human civilization—this is Attenborough writing at his finest.”

This brings us to the vision for the future, which is where the question of authorship becomes increasingly blurred. At times I was not sure whether I was reading Attenborough’s voice or a WWF policy brief. The book takes the planetary boundaries model with its ecological ceiling and Kate Raworth’s modification known as the Doughnut model, which adds a social foundation to it, i.e. the minimum requirements for human well-being. It then outlines some of the changes required to significantly reduce our impact on the planet, leaning towards “green” and nature-based solutions aimed primarily at restoring biodiversity. The overall tone here is hopeful and the book hits many relevant points, though I have some criticism.

Let’s start with what I appreciated. First, and this feels like Attenborough speaking, it gets its philosophy right, tackling anthropocentrism: “We moved from being a part of nature to being apart from nature […] we need to reverse that transition” (p. 125). It also acknowledges the shifting baseline syndrome in the context of fisheries and beyond: how each generation takes an increasingly impoverished environment as the new normal. Right out of the gate it tackles the need to move beyond the paradigm of perpetual growth and abandon Gross Domestic Product as our prime measure of welfare. Agriculture will have to rely on far less land through solutions that are high-tech (e.g. hydroponic greenhouses run on renewable energy), or low-tech (e.g. a shift away from monocultures to something more approaching functional ecosystems via regenerative farming and the growing of mixed crops). Most important would be a change from a meat- to a plant-based diet. Attenborough again: “When I was young […] meat was a rare treat” (p. 169). We should want less stuff and require our things to be repairable and recyclable, moving ultimately towards a circular economy. This all ties in nicely, although it is not spelt out here, with an ethos of self-limitation that we need to reclaim.

“This brings us to the vision for the future, which is where the question of authorship becomes increasingly blurred. At times I was not sure whether I was reading Attenborough’s voice or a WWF policy brief.”

Carbon capture will have to be achieved not by high-tech solutions, but by both reforestation on land and the farming of kelp forests in the sea (Ruth Kassinger already made the point in Slime that algae might just save the world). Both these solutions will help the massive rewilding efforts this book envisions: Marine Protected Areas will help fish populations to recover, resulting in sustainable fisheries, while on land more habitat will become available for wild animals. And, finally and importantly, the book tackles human population numbers, aiming for the humane solution of stabilising the world population as quickly as possible at 9–11 billion people by lifting people out of poverty and empowering women.

The holistic package proposed here, underpinned with examples of success stories from around the globe, almost makes it sound like we can have it all. Can we? The authors acknowledge that many of these transitions will not come easily and will require everyone to come together and cooperate (in itself a tall order). Where achievability is concerned, the devil is in the details, and I do feel that these are sometimes glossed over and that taboo subjects are avoided.

Take agriculture—there is no mention of the tremendous potential of genetically modified organisms. Similarly unmentioned regarding renewable energy is the concept of energy density and our reliance on increasingly energy-dense fuels as civilization progressed. There is no consideration of the tremendous amount of resources needed to build and maintain the necessary infrastructure. A combined solution of renewable and nuclear energy (admittedly a non-renewable) is considered a no-no. And though a circular economy is a step up from our linear system of produce-use-discard, you cannot endlessly recycle: a constant influx of virgin material is required. Not all metals can be economically recovered, nor all the compound materials we make unmade. Ever tried unfrying an egg? Entropy does not run that way.

“The holistic package proposed here […] almost makes it sound like we can have it all. Can we? […] these transitions will not come easily and […] the devil is in the details.”

The word “overpopulation” is studiously avoided, which is remarkable as Attenborough has been outspoken on the subject elsewhere (see this short explainer or the 2011 RSA President’s Lecture). The closest he gets to it here is when he writes that “we have overrun the Earth” (p. 100). Later, the possibility of a demographic transition to a declining world population is mentioned, but not the suggestion put forward by some that a lower world population of, say, 2–3 billion might be more sustainable. And though Attenborough points out increased longevity as a contributing factor, there is no examination of our relationship with death. Should we really direct all our efforts to maximising life span? At what cost, both environmental and quality-of-life-wise? And, lastly, the now-dominant narrative of female empowerment is only half the story and puts the onus squarely on their shoulders. Making contraception and abortion available to women is needed, but better still would be to prevent pregnancies by starting with male education. Condom, gentlemen?

Admittedly, I am arguing details here. Though they need serious consideration in my opinion, much of what is proposed here is sensible. A Life on Our Planet is very accessible and admirably concise. Its central message, that things cannot continue as they are, stands. If there is anyone who can communicate this to a wide audience, it is Sir David Attenborough. Some of the writing here will stick with you long after you have closed the book: “We often talk of saving the planet, but the truth is that we must do these things to save ourselves.” (p. 218). Here speaks a wise elder who, even at 94, indefatigably defends our environment.

Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.

A Life on Our Planet

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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Growth as a process is ubiquitous. It is the hallmark of every living organism. It motivates much of what we as humans do, as often unspoken as it is outspoken. It is the narrative lens through which we examine societies and civilizations past and present. And it is the altar at which economists worship. You would think that nobody in their right mind would write a book that tries to encompass all of the above. Leave it to a deep thinker such as Vaclav Smil to prove to you otherwise.

Growth: From Microorganisms to Megacities, written by Vaclav Smil, published by MIT Press in September 2019 (hardback, 659 pages)

Smil, a Distinguished Professor Emeritus at the University of Manitoba, has a bit of a reputation. An interview in Science introduced him as “the man who has quietly shaped how the world thinks about energy“, Foreign Policy included him in their Top 100 of Global Thinkers of 2010, and none other than Bill Gates devours his books. He has written about 40 of them – some of which are on my shelf and many more on my wishlist – but I admit with some trepidation that this is my introduction to his work. He has built a research career around energy: how we generate it, how we use it, and how it shapes our civilization. So why a book about growth? Because, as he points out, growth requires the conversion of energy.

By his own admission, a book that aims to cover such a broad topic has to be restricted in both scope and depth. Notably excluded is growth at the subcellular level, including the (epi)genetics and biochemistry of biological growth. But that leaves plenty of other topics. The first chapter introduces the reader to patterns and outcomes of growth without going into the mathematical nitty-gritty. Patterns include linear, exponential, hyperbolic, and (importantly) sigmoid or logistic growth; outcomes include normal and power-law distributions (e.g. Pareto and Zipf). The remainder of the book systematically discusses growth in living organisms, energy converters (i.e. power generators and secondary devices that use electricity), man-made artefacts (e.g. tools, buildings, infrastructure, vehicles, and electronics), and complex systems (populations, cities, empires, economies, and civilizations).

“[…] civilizations have come to rely on ever power-denser fuels, from wood to coal to oil to nuclear”

Before discussing artefacts and complex systems, Smil first gives an in-depth treatment of energy converters as “the history of civilization can be seen as a quest for ever higher reliance on extrasomatic energies“. In particular, civilizations have come to rely on ever power-denser fuels, from wood to coal to oil to nuclear. This is easily the most technical chapter of the book, rich in engineering details on the growth in both capacities and efficiencies of the machines we use to generate energy. It provides a more solid foundation than Rhodes’s book Energy, though it focuses on generation capacities rather than consumption of fuel reserves.

Biologists reading this book might feel a bit short-changed by the chapter on growth in nature. Though Smil covers growth in micro-organisms, trees, animals, and humans, much of what he discusses comes from intensely studied applied fields such as forestry, agriculture, and animal farming. There is less information about wild animals, animal populations, or ecosystems. And allometry – how shapes and proportions change with size – is only briefly mentioned when he discusses metabolic theory and expresses his scepticism of its universal applicability as promoted by e.g. Geoffrey West in his book Scale. For more on this topic see e.g. Wentworth Thompson’s classic On Growth and Form, Animal Body Size, and The Design of Mammals.

Short-changed or not, this chapter serves two important ends. First, to show the many similarities between growth in living and non-living systems. Second, to highlight that few people (especially economists) understand growth and think that anything other than organisms can grow indefinitely. These similarities are not mere curiosities and many systems show logistic growth patterns that result in a characteristic S-shaped curve when plotted. Initial slow growth gives way to rapid growth after which growth slows down and approaches an asymptotic limit. This is as true of the spread of viruses and animal or human body size as it is of the growth over time of the size of building cranes or the maximum velocities of different modes of transportation.

“[…] few people (especially economists) understand growth and think that anything other than organisms can grow indefinitely.”

But logistic growth is not universal and Smil warns of indiscriminate use of such curves to forecast growth. He explicitly bases his cautious conclusions in this book on a meticulous quantification of past observations, rather than making bold predictions. Bigger is not always better (engineers try to minimise the length of tunnels and bridges). Sometimes growth shows no particular trend and periods of stasis are followed by sudden jumps (the size of cathedrals) while civilizations can rise and fall (and rise again). Or growth can be limited by other factors such as cost (the height of skyscrapers). Some of the processes graphed here are caught in an early phase of logistic growth (the volume of internet traffic), while others show the decline that can follow afterwards (the size of the US railroad network). Reconstructing historical growth of cities, empires, and civilizations is particularly tricky. Data is patchy and proxies imperfect. Growth of empires is often measured by territory size, though most areas were only under nominal control – in practice local rulers often continued to be in charge.

I found the section on economic growth particularly revealing. Smil highlights the problems with the commonly used measure of Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and alternatives, and provides an eye-opening quantification of the energy and material flows underpinning our economies. Economists tend to either take these for granted or ignore them, but, as Smil has written elsewhere, we are still living in the iron age. The widespread techno-optimism that has come with Moore’s law and the astounding advances in computing power is misplaced and he is critical of dematerialization advocates, pointing out that, in absolute terms, we are only using more of everything.

Growth is a whopper of a book: 659 pages, with a 99-page reference section. And Smil knows it: twice he refers to the “persevering reader”. Early on he warns that his systematic quantification is “unavoidably repetitive” and parts of the book are indeed somewhat dull. There is no grand theory being pushed here. But that is the whole point of the book: “grand predictions turn out to be, repeatedly, wrong”, he notes in his preface. What really characterises Smil’s attitude is caution, nuance, and scepticism. And nowhere does this show more than in his final chapter, where he ponders what comes after growth.

“There is no grand theory being pushed here. But that is the whole point of the book: “grand predictions turn out to be, repeatedly, wrong”, [Smil] notes in his preface”

Smil has, in his own words, a “respect for complex and unruly realities”. Energy and climate scientist David Keith was more outspoken by calling him a “slayer of bullshit”. Next to slamming dematerialization and perpetual growth advocates, he calls the idea of an imminent circular economy misleading (“modern economies are based on massive linear flows”), highlights the fallacy of thinking that economic growth can be decoupled from energy and material inputs (“[it] contradicts physical laws”), and considers sustainable development “one of the most misused descriptors of desirable human actions” that “leaves all key variables undefined”. But he does not side with prophets of doom either, labelling peak oil advocates “a new catastrophist cult” that “mix incontestable facts with caricatures of complex realities”.

On balance though, it is clear what camp Smil falls in. Quoting from Emmott’s book 10 Billion that “we urgently need to consume less. A lot less” shows him agreeing with the sentiments of scaling down and pulling back that Eileen Crist expressed in Abundant Earth. To arrive at this conclusion “there is no need to be a catastrophist”. The way Smil sees it “Good life within planetary boundaries is possible […] but not without fundamentally restructured provisioning systems” (more on that in my review of Planetary Accounting). And, as he points out in his conclusion to the book, we have to accept the “impossibility of infinite growth on a finite planet“.

Growth is a book that, well, grows on you. Yes, reading it is a substantial investment of time, but Smil’s meticulous and cross-disciplinary approach provides many insightful ideas – of which I have mentioned only a few – that lead to a well-reasoned conclusion. And as my personal introduction to his writing, it has convinced me that I urgently need to read more of his books.

Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.

Growth paperback, hardback, ebook, audiobook or audio CD

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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How many people can planet Earth support? That is the thorny question that economist Partha Dasgupta tackles in Time and the Generations. Or, as he asks: “How should we evaluate the ethics of procreation, especially the environmental consequences of reproductive decisions on future generations, in a resource-constrained world?” Given that I have previously called overpopulation the elephant in the room that few wish to address, my interest was immediately piqued.

Time and the Generations: Population Ethics for a Diminishing Planet, written by Partha Dasgupta, published by Columbia University Press in June 2019 (hardback, 320 pages)

Intuitively, the answer to this question to me has always seemed: it depends. The IPAT equation formulated in the 1970s by Barry Commoner, Paul R. Ehrlich, and John Holdren is pretty clear about it, Impact = Population × Affluence × Technology. There is not going to be a single number, it depends on what we consider a good life. The more affluent we want our lifestyle to be, the fewer of us there can be before we require more natural resources than our planet can supply. This is the essence behind concepts such as Earth Overshoot Day and humanity’s global ecological footprint. These consider renewable natural resources such as timber, clean water, and fertile soil (but, it should be pointed out, ignore resources such as fossil fuels and ores that are essentially non-renewable).

So, superficially, this question does not seem like rocket science. But Dasgupta here turns it into something very much akin to rocket science. If your idea of stimulating dinnertime conversation includes the ideas of philosophers and economists such as Henry Sidgwick, John Rawls, Derek Parfit, or Frank Ramsey, with a healthy dollop of normative ethics, utilitarianism, and axiology, then this book will go down well. If the above means nothing to you, then, like me, you might struggle with this book. Dasgupta writes for an audience of fellow philosophers and economists here and takes as a given a certain level of background knowledge and familiarity with the vocabulary. Below I will try to demystify some of this and hopefully not butcher it too much in the process.

“Given that our planet has resource constraints, what level of economic activity can it support long term? And can we deduce an optimum population size from this?”

This book is part of the Kenneth J. Arrow Lecture Series, which honours the intellectual legacy of this economist. Dasgupta has revised and expanded on material from this and other lectures and turned it into a large essay, the Arrow Lecture, that sits at the heart of this book. It is driven by two questions. Given that our planet has resource constraints, what level of economic activity can it support long term? And can we deduce an optimum population size from this? To answer these questions, Dasgupta engages in a formal mathematical modelling exercise in both normative and population ethics. Normative ethics studies ethical action: how should one act, morally speaking? Population ethics studies the ethical problems that arise when our actions affect who and how many of us are born in the future.

As his starting point, Dasgupta takes Henry Sidgwick’s version of utilitarian thought. As an ethical theory, utilitarianism says that we should act to maximize happiness and well-being for individuals involved. When applied in the context of population ethics, I think this means asking how we can maximize well-being for humanity as a whole. Dasgupta starts with a model of a timeless world in which goods are produced and consumed and asks what level of population maximizes well-being (so-called total utilitarianism). He then modifies this theory to construct what he calls generation-relative utilitarianism. He adds a component of time in the form of existing people choosing how many children to have and asks how we can maximize well-being in that scenario. The aim of this whole exercise? A model that offers potential parents a normative theory of, and ethical guidance on, reproductive decisions.

The Arrow Lecture is accompanied by other material that, fortunately, is quite enlightening. I would even go so far as to recommend you read it first to get a better handle on the book’s outline. There is a foreword by economist Robert M. Solow, some emails from Kenneth J. Arrow to Dasgupta on the Lecture, three commentaries from economists Scott Barrett, Eric Maskin, and Joseph Stiglitz – with a response by Dasgupta, an epilogue, and a reprint of a closely-allied paper co-authored with his daughter Aisha Dasgupta. To make it self-contained, the last part of the Lecture actually borrows heavily from this paper, so there is a fair bit of overlap here.

“[Dasgupta’s] model [gives] some very rough numbers for optimal population size, with most estimates falling somewhere between 1.5 to 3.5 billion people.”

Where the modelling exercise was rather abstruse to me, the second half is where things get really interesting. He first offers the briefest of reviews of humanity’s impact on the planet, stressing repeatedly just how insanely fast, just mere decades, we have increased our standard of living and, with it, extraction of natural resources. Then he applies his model to get some very rough numbers for optimal population size, with most estimates falling somewhere between 1.5 to 3.5 billion people. This agrees with earlier work by Paul Ehrlich and co-authors, as well as the recent limit of 3 billion championed by Christopher Tucker.

Dasgupta is frank about the model simplifications made up to this point and the crudeness of some the estimates of our impact on the biosphere. But, as he points out, “What matters […] is not the exact figure but whether the footprint exceeds 1. On that there should be little question” (p. 105). Indeed, and for a fuller picture I refer readers to Vaclav Smil’s Harvesting the Biosphere, the recent Humans versus Nature, and my review of Cataclysms. The same hockey stick patternhockey stick shape that characterises the graph of atmospheric carbon dioxide concentration against time shows up in a broad class of other geochemical signatures. This is why stratigraphers are trying to get the term Anthropocene formally recognized. This pressure on the biosphere is also feeding into what is now widely called the sixth mass extinction (notably, Dasgupta was co-editor on Biological Extinction, published in the same year as this book).

There are three other things that Dasgupta writes worth mentioning here. First is his invocation of the economic concept of externalities. These are positive or negative consequences that our actions have for others that are not accounted for. An example of a negative externality is global warming caused by the burning of fossil fuels. We, its consumers, are not paying the cost of global warming which is instead inflicted on both existing and future people. Dasgupta argues this applies just as much for reproduction: adding another human being to an already overburdened planet has costs for all future people. For most, life is so sacrosanct that nobody wants to discuss this, and applying this kind of cold calculus is still taboo. High time somebody broached that topic.

“[…] the Sustainable Development Goals laid out by the United Nations […] are silent on population and the burden increased affluence will have on the planet.”

Second is that the Sustainable Development Goals laid out by the United Nations, which aim for example to reduce global wealth inequality, are silent on population and the burden increased affluence will have on the planet. One more reason why this conversation is so terribly overdue. Third – there is good news too – preferences for the number of children people wish to have is, what Dasgupta calls, socially embedded. It is subject to both people’s desire to compete with one another and to conform to a majority. Changing such preferences might be less costly than it first appears, though it will be none the easier for it.

One thing Dasgupta, by his own admission, stops short of is formulating policies as to how we could achieve optimum global population. Luckily, others are starting to be willing to discuss this. Equally important will be the tough discussion on how we can change our behaviour so as to live lighter on our environment, something I cover in my review of Planetary Accounting.

Time and the Generations takes no prisoners where its level is concerned, being primarily written for an audience versed in economics and philosophy. Though I struggled to get to grips with parts of the book, I found it refreshing and uplifting to see an economist champion something else than endless growth.

Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.

Time and the Generations hardback or ebook

Other recommended books mentioned in this review:

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