ETHICS FOR SUSTAINABILITY
by Alan Durning

When Moses came down from Mount Sinai, he could count the rules of ethical behavior on his fingers. In the complex global economy of the late 20th century, in which the simple act of turning on an air conditioner affects planetary systems, the list of rules for ecologically sustainable living could run into the hundreds.

The basic value of a sustainable society, the ecological equivalent of the Golden rule, is simple: Each generation should meet its needs without jeopardizing the prospects of future generations. What is lacking is the practical knowledge -- at each level of society -- of what living by that principle means.

In a fragile biosphere, the ultimate fate of humanity may depend on whether we can cultivate a deeper sense of self-restraint, founded on a widespread ethic of limiting consumption and finding non-material enrichment.

Those who seek to rise to this environmental challenge may find encouragement in the body of human wisdom passed down from antiquity. To seek out sufficiency is to follow the path of voluntary simplicity preached by all the sages from Buddha to Mohammed. Typical of these pronouncements is this passage from the Bible: "What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

Living by this credo is not easy. As historian David Shi of Davidson College in North Carolina chronicles, the call for a simpler life is perennial throughout the history of the North American continent: the Puritans of Massachusetts Bay, the Quakers of Philadelphia, the Amish, the Shakers, the experimental utopian communities of the 1830s, the hippies of the 1960s, and the back-to-the-land movement of the 1970s.

None of these movements ever gained more than a slim minority of adherents. Elsewhere in the world, entire nations have dedicated themselves to rebuilding human character -- sometimes through brutal techniques -- in a less self-centered mold, and nowhere have they succeeded with more than a token few of their citizens.

It would be hopelessly naive to believe that entire populations will suddenly experience a moral awakening, renouncing greed, envy, and avarice. The best that can be hoped for is a gradual widening of the circle of those practicing voluntary simplicity. The goal of creating a sustainable culture, that is, a culture of permanence, is best thought of as a challenge that will last several generations.

Voluntary simplicity, or personal restraint, will do little good, however, if it is not wedded to bold political steps that confront the forces advocating consumption. Beyond the oft-repeated agenda of environmental and social reforms necessary to achieve sustainability, such as overhauling energy systems, stabilizing population, and ending poverty, action is needed to restrain the excesses of advertising, to curb the shopping culture, and to revitalize household and community economies as human-scale alternatives to the high consumption lifestyle.

For example, if fairly distributed between the sexes, cooking from scratch can be dignified and use fewer resources than the frozen instant meal. Just so, communities that turn main streets into walking zones where local artisans and farmers display their products while artists, musicians, and theater troupes perform can provide a richness of human interaction that shopping malls will never match.

There could be many more people ready to begin saying "enough" than prevailing opinion suggests. After all, much of what we consume is wasted or unwanted in the first place. How much of the packaging that wraps products we consume each year -- 162 pounds per capita in the United States -- would we rather not see? How many of the distant farms fumed to suburban housing developments could have been left in crops if we insisted on well-planned land use inside city limits?

How many of the unsolicited sales pitches each American receives each day in the mail -- 37 percent of all mail -- are nothing but bothersome junk? How much of the advertising in our morning newspaper -- covering 65 percent of the newsprint in American paper -- would we not gladly see left out?

How many of the miles we drive -- almost 6,000 a year a piece in the United States -- would we not happily give up if livable neighborhoods were closer to work, a variety of local merchants closer to home, streets safe to walk and bicycle, and public transit easier and faster? How much of the fossil energy we use is wasted because utility companies fail to put money into efficient renewable energy systems before building new coal plants?

In the final analysis, accepting and living by sufficiency rather than excess offers a return to what is, culturally speaking, the human home: the ancient order of family, community, good work and good life; to a reverence for excellence of craftsmanship; to a true materialism that does not just care about things but cares for them; to communities worth spending a lifetime in.

Maybe Henry David Thoreau had it right when he scribbled in his notebook beside Walden Pond, "A man is rich in proportion to the things he can afford to let alone."

This article is excerpted from World Watch, 1776 Massachusetts avenue, NW, Washington, DC 20036. The annual, U.S. subscription rate is $15.

Alan Durning is a senior researcher at Worldwatch Institute. His work centers on the relationships between social and environmental problems.

Copyright © 1996. The Light Party.