A few days ago, a farmer friend drew my attention to the business world’s preoccupation, nay obsession, with growth. They’re not content with steady sales, production, and reasonable returns on investment, we agreed, no-one, especially shareholders and stock market analysts, seems content unless there’s that mystical profitability growth from year to year, even quarter to quarter.
Being neither economist nor corporate schemer (but confessing to a small investment portfolio for my senior years), I began thinking about ways in which I contribute to this preoccupation with growth at all costs. Each day we read of whole factories being shipped to foreign lands because reduced labour cost will dramatically cut production costs; of yet another 3, or 6, or 10-thousand workers being given the sack to trim costs and improve the bottom line.
“For the past 250 years,” writes historical analyst Steven Stoll*, “the industrialized world has expanded and thrived on an escalating volume of material transferred from environments into commerce, manufacturing, construction, and agriculture. The raw stuff of the planet made growth possible, and growth, in turn, reshaped the way people thought about themselves, their communities, and the human condition itself.” (Click here for the full article.)
What, if any, responsibility do I have for all this? What impact do my actions have? How do I support this relentless rise in consumption, possession, and so-called improvements … all the while lamenting the decay of the planet around me? What if were to take an honest inventory of my so-called life style? What if I were, more consciously than I do already, make decisions that are grounded in a less greedy and more prudent ethic?
750 years ago, the Japanese Zen teacher Dogen Zenji wrote about the Eight Awakenings of Great Beings—a series of foundational practices of a conscious being. The second of these awakening (or insights, realizations), said Dogen, is “to know how much is enough.” Often obscure and impossible to penetrate (for me, at least), Zen text do sometimes express complex issues with elegant simplicity. This is one such example: What would be enough for me? How many bedrooms, bathrooms, vehicles, paintings, CDs, toys, and vacations do I need to live a reasonable life?
You see where this is going? What are your thoughts?
* source: ”Fear of fallowing: the specter of a no-growth world” in Harper’s Magazine, March 2008, pp.88 and 89. image: Painting by a North Carolina artist of actress Angelina Jolie as the Virgin Mary hovering over a Wal-Mart check-out line.