chapter from

TECHNONATURES: Environments, Technologies, Spaces and Places in the 21st Century,

eds: Damian White, Chris Wilbert; Wilfred Laurier Press: forthcoming  (April 2009)

 

A Postindustrial Green Economy:

New Productive Forces and the Future of the Academic Left

 

Brian Milani

Business & Environment Program

Faculty of Environmental Studies, York University, Toronto Canada

 

While Technonatures takes off from an apparent malaise of the environmental movement, this chapter argues that a bigger problem might be a malaise of the political and intellectual left, particularly the academic left, which has been very slow, at best, to appreciate the relationship between human development potentials and social change strategies. Because we are in the midst of a major historical transition, it’s important that we go a step beyond the mainstream left’s understanding of the relationship between humanity’s “productive forces” and “relations of production.”

 

This chapter takes the classical Marxist insight—about the role of outdated social power relationships holding back emerging productive forces—and applies it to a postindustrial context.  It looks at the essence of postindustrialism, its identity with human and green development, and the implications for both social change strategy and the role of left academics and the university.  Special attention will be paid to the role of economic decentralization in future regulation, and the distinction between mentalities and strategies of environmental protection and ecological alternatives in understanding basic choices we face. 

 

The Left and Productive Forces

Contemporary postmodernism has pretty much sealed the deal—with its aversion to historicism, essentialism, and notions of progress.  But in the belly of the dragon of economic and technological development (the West), the intellectual left has not had a lot to say on the nature of this development for many decades, well before the rise of post-structuralism. The left’s relative silence on “productive forces” probably had its origins in reaction to Stalinism’s mechanistic economism and historical determinism in the 1930s, 40s’ and 50s’.  In contrast to the reductionist analysis of the Eastern bloc—intended to rationalize Stalin’s obsession with heavy industry—Western Marxists chose to focus less on productive forces and more on “relations of production.”(Levine and Wright, 1980). Such analysis seemed to provide more subtlety and flexibility in understanding social, cultural and political complexities.  But by simply ignoring productive forces, the Western left implicitly accepted the Stalinist definition, rooted in an earlier stage of industrialism.

 

bookchin1The first wave of popular “postindustrial” writing in the sixties and seventies—Daniel Bell (1976), Alvin Toffler (1972, 1980), etc.—provided many insights into emerging potentials, but also tended to rationalize many exploitative—and distinctly industrial—aspects of capitalism with postindustrial doublespeak. Social radicals, like Touraine (1971), Bookchin (1971) , and Gorz (1971), more critically examined new developmental dynamics, especially their implications for the social movements.  But although these thinkers enjoyed some currency in the late sixties’ countercultures, they did not have much lasting impact among the academic or organizational left (Perrucci and Pilisuk, 1968).   In North America, however, social movement thinking was overwhelmed by the oppositional priorities of the Vietnam War.

 

The real breakthroughs in radical postindustrial thought came from Radovan Richta et al (1969), Martin Sklar (1969), Fred Block and Larry Hirshhorn (1979).  From neo-Marxist standpoints, they highlighted the new role of culture in production, and its implications for the relationship between human, technological and economic development—particularly in how it challenged certain aspects of classical industrialism. They emphasized how industrial capitalism, which had always been based on cog-labour and vast material throughput, would have to somehow manage new productive forces (NPFs) whose essence involved upgrading human creative capacities and saving resources.  These writers were, however, virtually ignored by an academic left that also seemed disconcertingly oblivious to emerging grassroots social and ecological alternatives.  In recent years, the rise of new information technologies has spawned visionary new perspectives on wealth and change—like Benkler’s (2006) The Wealth of Networks , written from a liberal-democratic standpoint.  But a more radical left analysis of these emergent forces has been largely nonexistent, leaving something of a vacuum concerning the deepest political implications of these changes. 

 

The left’s dearth of concern with productive forces and technological development is at least partly attributable to its lack of interest in economic alternatives generally.  Many of these alternatives require an altered role for both the state and the left, and new levels of participation in production and governance.  In the industrial era, the left had a special intellectual and organizational role in social change.  The organized left was the “head on the working class body” for a labour movement that was both culturally and politically dependent. Issues concerning the nature of production were far less important than questions of distribution and fairness.  Few substantial economic alternatives could be implemented without direct state involvement, and this lent an oppositional cast to most social activism. In this context, the left constituted a “shadow state” for labour and civil society. In the context of existing industrial structures, the left played an important role, but it was also somewhat privileged by this role, as both an organizational and an intellectual vanguard.

 

The industrialization of culture, would, however, change this.  With mass education and mass communications, workers and communities would no longer need either intellectual or political representation by the left; they could increasingly represent themselves.  Similarly, they could begin to implement alternatives directly in many sectors of j0083411the economy, and did not need to be so one-sidedly focused on oppositional activity. This process would pick up steam throughout the century, the Roaring Twenties being a turning point culturally and economically. Despite the setbacks of depression and war, the new potentials would emerge powerfully again in the sixties via new social movements and countercultures. By then, the role of progressive academics would entail a new kind of cooperation with increasingly autonomous social movements.  It would have to be a relationship of co-equals, linking sectors of a diversified working class. Contemporary academics would need to experience themselves not as leaders, but as intellectual workers in educational and research industries in need of alternative organization themselves.

 

Left academics and the university generally have, in recent decades, had to withstand a number of challenges.  They include the apparent threat of intellectual labour and the information economy to the Ivory Tower, along with challenges to conventional (rational) paradigms of knowledge by feminists, aboriginals, and others asserting the validity of non-rational modes of knowing.  While spiritual tendencies and evolutionary perspectives have grown strongly in almost all the new social movements, they have not penetrated very far into academia.  Perhaps feeling burned by their own past involvement with deterministic forms of Marxism, many academics have recoiled from both evolutionary social movement perspectives, castigating any large historical vision as “essentialist.”

 

This essay, however, will argue that such holistic vision is crucial to navigate a historically unprecedented transition from quantitative to qualitative development.  While the left’s traditional concerns with the wealth distribution ECONOF~2.jpgremain vitally important, real social equality also demands a fundamental redefinition of wealth and production.  Both the form and the content of economic life must be transformed—involving both the embedding of social and ecological values into everyday production and exchange, and new decentralized forms of production and regulation. Not only is such a transformation essential to creating authentic ecological economies, but it can be seen as a realization of the traditional socialist project of reorienting the economy to directly serve human needs.  In contrast to the mainstream environmentalist position that looks at the relationship between human need and ecosystem health as a trade-off, the radical postindustrial perspective emphasizes that the regeneration of the natural world depends upon a more direct targeting of human need.  Later in this chapter, I will return to this relationship between need and restructuring. 

 

The New Productive Forces

The academic left, like the mainstream environmental movement, has been slow to recognize that our current social and environmental crises are not simply a matter of the economic system’s exploitative or destructive impacts, but also of the suppression of vast and growing human potentials.  Many of these repressed capacities are far from new—and their suppression dates back to the earliest civilizations that emerged, often violently, from more integrated hunting-gathering or Neolithic societies.  But economic development, culminating in the industrial upheaval of the past 200 years, has begun to move beyond material accumulation and call into play—however ambivalently—the cultural capacities long suppressed by civilizational development. 

 

This is not a simple return-of-the-repressed because civilization—characterized over the last 5000 years by a permanent surplus, classes, cities, independent crafts, etc.—has built a platform for a possible new synthesis of primitive and civilized focused on all-round human development.  The new productive forces (NPFs) are basically forces of people-production—in contrast to the thing-production of the past phase—but they also make possible a new level of regenerative reintegration with non-human nature.  A Marxist or feminist might consider them aspects of the “reproduction of labour-power”—which they are—but we must appreciate that they go far beyond ‘simple labour-power’ or industrial cog-labour.  They encompass a complex of creative, nurturing, giving, intuitive, artistic, healing and cooperative capacities that have been systematically suppressed or channelled for millennia by the civilized order.  The platform that civilization has ultimately developed—at the expense of these qualities—includes abstract-rational thought, material and technological development, more individuated and historical consciousness, and an increasingly interconnected planet.  Further development of the latter, however, requires the unleashing of the former—the suppressed elements of holistic human development.  The problem is that capitalism—as intrinsically a mode of quantitative development—may be incapable of transcending a material focus.

 

Over several millennia, different civilizations have allowed various degrees of official expression for life-regenerating energies—in, for example, healing, building and high art. But, by and large, civilization as a historical epoch has been all about external control and material accumulation. Even in pre-industrial societies without institutional drivers toward economic growth, material wealth has been utilized as an instrument of social control.  Industrial capitalism’s open-ended economic growth extended this materialism to its most extreme reaches, but the basic relationship between matter and domination has existed from the outset of class society. By contrast, the essence of authentic postindustrialism is dematerialization and a more direct focus on human development in both production and consumption.

 

Capitalism is defined by property and power relationships that are generally antithetical to far-reaching human development, but competitive pressures have compelled the system to at least selectively employ and cultivate the NPFs.  By the 1920s, industrialization had begun to move into the realm of culture, effecting significant changes in North America.  Not only did markets begin to move beyond primary needs for large portions of the population, but production itself became increasingly comprised of cultural, organizational and scientific work.  The rise of mass production industries put questions of consumption (and implicitly the purpose of production) on the economic agenda in unprecedented ways and new more culturally-defined social movements appeared. 

 

Technology—understood as extensions of human senses and functions—also began to undergo a basic change.  As emphasized by McLuhan (1962, 1964), technology which previously had served mainly as extensions of our muscles WealthOfNetworks.jpgand bodily functions (like heating) now began to focus more on extending our minds and nervous systems through electronic media and information technology.  In communications, the new cultural and informational forces first appeared in the old linear physical production model—what Benkler calls the “industrial information economy.”  In it, telegraph, newspapers, radio, broadcast TV, etc. required massive upfront investment, demanding equally vast mass markets in order to be economic. Such a structure inevitably separated producers from largely passive consumers.  But over the last 15 years, we have begun to see the emergence of a new “networked information economy”—quite different, and much more distributed, than the industrial one.  Today powerful production hardware has been decentralized onto the desktops of ordinary citizens, making possible greater creative autonomy, as new forms of mass collaboration and peer production are mushrooming outside markets. Notwithstanding capitalist globalization still seeking to expand the realm of old-line markets, equally powerful forms of demarketization are growing at the heart, not simply the periphery, of the information economy. 

 

The NPFs therefore present some fundamental problems for capitalism.  As Benkler has argued, old-line markets just don’t work well to facilitate new forms of cultural production based in nonmaterial inputs and outputs.  (Even earlier in industrialism’s history, the role of universities testified to the inability of strictly market relationships to generate necessary knowledge-production).  The expansion of knowledge and value production in the postindustrial context is creating a fundamental crisis of both the market economy and class society—requiring a new relationship between resources and people, between material and non-material production, and between production and consumption. 

 

Scarcity, Domination and Quantitative Development
Economics, and an important dimension of ecology, are all about the relationship between people and resources.  The invisible elephant in the room where either social justice or ecological balance are discussed is material scarcity.  Since a postindustrial economy is a post-material one, scarcity is a major consideration.  It’s a factor not simply because it affects whether human needs get satisfied, but because scarcity has been an essential tool of social control and labour discipline in civilization.  For 5000 years, scarcity has been a prop of class power.

 

This fact is more or less acknowledged by the left—and influences the left’s emphasis on fair distribution of wealth.  But the left tends to underestimate the importance of production—in content and structure—in maintaining this inequality.  Especially now that cutting-edge production depends upon the cultivation—not the suppression—of human creativity, the redistribution of both material wealth and political power are impossible without the transformation of what and how we are producing.

 

By contrast, many environmentalists fetishize production—particularly through their emphasis on economic growth and overconsumption.  By positing “affluence” of whole nations as a fundamental cause of environmental destruction, they overlook the actual role of inequality in this destruction, the role of scarcity in perpetuating this inequality, and the potential for qualitative or regenerative development.  A politics based on limits rather than transformation (including democratic participation) risks reinforcing inequality, especially since the costs of crisis invariably fall heaviest on the powerless. While alienated personal consumption is definitely a problem, and individual responsibility can be an important starting point for activism, such a perspective amounts to “blaming the victim” if it does not understand that a manipulative use of scarcity underpins the entire mass consumption economy. 

 

Marx saw the relationship between class society and relative scarcity.  Civilization was made possible by a permanent economic surplus large enough to support classes but too small to provide abundance for all.  A combination of elite control of scarce resources and elite monopoly of high culture defined power in civilization.  For this reason, Marx saw capitalism as a contradictory system: a class society whose open-ended economic growth could eventually undermine class power by ending scarcity.  Even at their most efficient, capitalist markets are driven by scarcity—which is not necessarily a bad thing at an earlier stage of development when most legitimate needs revolve around food, shelter, clothing and basic infrastructure.  But potential abundance changes everything, in BusinessConfidencepart by undercutting traditional market drivers.  This is why the Great Depression can be understood as a reaction to the threat of abundance—as a spontaneous system shutdown following the unprecedented productivity explosion of the Roaring Twenties. While a number of factors contributed to the Great Crash of 1929, the failure of recovery was due primarily to a new structural crisis of overproduction: business was simply not confident that there would be sufficient “effective demand” for the vast productive capacity that had developed.  The emerging stage of economic evolution called for a more needs-focused mode of qualitative development, but this was something that capitalism was not, and may not be, capable of. 

 

While Marx recognized that material abundance could potentially sabotage class society, he probably didn’t anticipate the possibility that growth could be redirected into waste in order to reinforce scarcity and class.  This is essentially the story of postwar (or “Fordist”) North American capitalism which, contrary to the popular notion of creating “the Affluent Society” (Galbraith, 1958) actually served to artificially recreate scarcity through the production of waste—the Effluent Society.  A progressive solution to the new crisis of effective demand would have entailed, among other things, greater redistribution of income, thus increasing worker purchasing power—one of the key proposals of left New Dealers.  Real abundance, however, would also have entailed a more qualitative redefinition of wealth—echoed at that time by labour and social movement advocacy of work time reduction, universal free education and health care, and intelligently planned communities.  The latter would have been an authentic step toward real abundance, but alas such options were soundly defeated by around 1948—as the Levittown model of suburban sprawl and the permanent war economy became the twin pillars of North American capitalism. 

 

Many activists today wax nostalgic for postwar Fordism—understandably since the system seemed to allow worker and citizen gains, the cumulative outcome of union and social movement struggle over several decades.  These CGB85Dincluded the legitimization of collective bargaining in key industries, the creation of social safety nets, etc.  But the new Waste Economy consistently took with one hand what it gave with the other. Kunstler  (1994) calls the postwar suburban boom “the greatest misallocation of resources in human history.” The unnecessary waste endemic to the ascendant auto/oil/suburb complex helped create a 25-year boom, but its costs would eventually come due beginning in the seventies.  By the same token, this waste and alienated consumption would be financed by planned inflation and new forms of debt-money which would keep workers tied to a debilitating work-and-spend cycle even in the best of times.  Fordism’s “Paper Economy” (Bazelon, 1963) laid a foundation for the Post-Fordist Casino Economy of empty financialization that, at this writing, is threatening to collapse altogether. 

 

Issues of poverty, material scarcity and inequality are perhaps more widespread today than any time in our history.  On the surface, it may seem unrealistic to suggest that humanity can or should move beyond quantitative development.  But the material scarcity of today is quite different than that of even 100 years ago.  Today it is artificially created and maintained.  Going beyond scarcity now involves going beyond accumulation and establishing new forms of qualitative development everywhere.  Especially in the most poverty-stricken areas of the globe, “income” growth can be a poor measure of economic well-being; it often disguises the erosion of traditional livelihoods and appropriation of regional resources by global corporations. Indicators of how well needs are met are far more reflective of real wealth and efficiency.  Today’s “disaster capitalism” (Klein, 2008) is grounded in a psychology and politics of scarcity and fear—even in the best of times.  A potential green economy must be grounded in a culture of abundance and plenitude. This is no contradiction of the equally-important conserver mentality.  Real abundance and fulfillment are qualitative not quantitative.  People are far more willing to accept material limits when they have access to many opportunities for personal fulfillment, community and real security. 

 

Decentralization and Postindustrialism

While the left has been slow to recognize the role of waste in holding back real development, so also it has underestimated the decentralist character of postindustrialism. 

 

The industrializing economy during its 19th century heyday was chaos, a runaway freight train. Despite its apparently decentralized character, it was capital-intensive, and its developmental tendency was towards centralization. One part of this was the technological centralization encouraged by industrialism’s concentrated energy sources, especially fossil fuels. Measures to mitigate the chaos, or encourage a more humane and egalitarian industrialization, would have to be even more strongly centralist, as were most socialist movements. Efforts to control the economy were further complicated by structural chasms separating economics, politics and culture in early capitalism.  For the working class or other popular movements, real change required a dual strategy, one part economic, the other political.  The labour movement could focus on production, but it also needed a political arm—be it a socialist, labour or democratic party.  The basic strategies of the labour and social movements had to be more oppositional because of the importance of the state to possible alternatives.  In any case, “alternatives” for the 19th century working class likely meant a fairer share-out of existing wealth, along with better conditions of work.  Few had any quibble with the material character of wealth. 

 

Today the most conscious elements of all the social movements are disputing capitalism’s very definition of wealth.  They contest the nature of production, not only its distribution.  Equally importantly, they are in a position to initiate economic alternatives themselves, without prior control over, or influence in, the state.  Three key interrelated dimensions of authentic postindustrialism make this decentralization possible.  First, pressures toward democratization, human scale and grassroots participation.  Notwithstanding the power of corporate globalization and religious fundamentalism, democracy is an inextricable element of the NPFs, and throughout the world, community is increasingly recognized as the nexus of real development.  This means not simply a growing role for civil society, but a fundamental re-embedding of the economy in civil society and community. In North America, an example is the movement for “local living economies,” which is currently growing even faster than the movement for corporate sustainability.

 

Second are pressures toward efficiency and harmony with nature.  Industrialism’s fossil-fuel based centralization supported a linear extraction-to-disposal resource cycle.  By contrast, emergent sustainable agriculture and food systems; soft energy infrastructures; ecological waste-resource systems; holistic health systems; sustainable urban design and more, tend to involve both greater decentralization and circular resource flows.  Even eco-manufacturing—based in reuse, service and regional benign materials—demands proximity and increasingly localized closed-loops (Stahel, 1994).  This involves not simply more efficient use of energy and resources, but a restructuring of economic processes to move within, or to imitate, natural systems—what’s been called “economic biomimicry”. It also entails a more direct focus on end-use or human need—and a process of “backcasting” to find the most elegant and efficient ways of meeting that need.  As soft-energy guru Amory Lovins (1977) put it, we want “hot showers and cold beer”, not necessarily fossil fuels and power plants.  The latter are just means to the end.  Industrial ecologists have called this the “eco-service economy” geared to meeting needs for nutrition, access, illumination, entertainment, etc. and highlighted its potential for a radical conservation of resources.  For this reason, advocates argue that harmony with nonhuman nature is not only not counter to (or a trade-off with) human interests, but in fact it depends on a more direct targeting of real human needs. 

 

The third main dimension of postindustrial decentralization is rooted in the character of knowledge-based production.  Ecological economist Herman Daly (2000) points out that real economic efficiency today necessitates greater restrictions on the flow of material goods and physical capital (to minimize transport costs and optimize the use of local resources, etc.), and fewer restrictions on the flow of knowledge.  As he says, “trade recipes, not cookies.”  Daly said that such common sense runs directly counter to ongoing capitalist globalization, which, through free trade and intellectual property rights respectively, is working directly against economic intelligence.  While much of the left tends to focus on the destructiveness of free trade, it may be that intellectual property law may be an even more insidious form of repression and waste.  Analysts of the new knowledge economy like Benkler point out that the decentralization of information hardware is creating new forms of mass collaboration and peer production outside the market economy—its most obvious examples being Wikipedia, open source software and all kinds of file-sharing.  Capitalism’s current attempts to suppress it (via a new wave of intellectual property law and campaigns against “piracy”) amount, in the words of Lawrence Lessig (2004), to a “war on creativity”—and thus a new level of waste of human productive capacity.  Copyright and patent law in the era of physical production once served to support innovation, but today it tends to suppress it in the financial interests of the corporate elite.  As Brand said, “information wants to be free” and to costlessly multiply itself (DeKerckhove, 1995).  In this sense, the new information commons seems more consistent with ‘gift economy’ relationships advocated by feminists like Genevieve Vaughan (1997) than conventional scarcity-based market exchange.  In any case, the demarketization taking place at the cutting-edge of knowledge-based production is putting the lie to the corporate stance that the commodification of life is the essence of progress.  

 

In recent times, economic crisis has highlighted the irrationality of capital’s relationship to resources and information.  The Post-Fordist era, beginning with Reagan and Thatcher, introduced new, even more empty, forms of waste production.  It channelled  new information technology into financialization and a global Casino Economy based in fictitious capital, illusory debt-money and speculation.  Like the planned inflation and Paper Economy of the Fordist period, it has essentially been a means of re-redistributing wealth back to those with money-making powers, and critics have long seen it as a kind of ponzi scheme, a house of cards that would eventually topple.   By the same token, globalization’s irrationally overextended loops of production and consumption—as manifest in Wal-Mart and the China trade—seem threatened by the spectre of Peak Oil.  Localization, once seen as counter-culture utopianism, is now considered a legitimate strategy by growing numbers of economic planners, policy-makers and analysts.  Business networks like BALLE (Business Alliance for Local Living Economies) have begun to make small, but tangible and influential, impacts on local economies, encouraging a new wave of interest in “local multiplier” effects of investment, comparing locally-owned with global companies (Shuman, 2006).  The creation of self-reliant local economies is certainly not a sufficient condition for socially-just ecological development, or for the full expression of the NPFs, but it is a necessary condition, something that the left has been slow to recognize. 

 

Distributed Regulation and Mindful Markets

Localization and the re-embedding of the economy in civil society imply basic changes in the nature of regulation and the state.  A different style of regulation is also suggested by the fact that so much green production could be regenerative—and not simply a toxic destructive juggernaut that nature and community had to be protected from.  The very complexity of the contemporary economy (especially one based in quality) also defies a concentration of regulatory power in the state.  Complex systems tend to require greater measures of internal self-regulation based in sophisticated feedback loops.  No less than soft energy systems or sustainable food production, green regulation must be distributed—and “environmental” in the sense that it is structured into a range of incentives and disincentives embedded in everyday economic choices and relationships. 

 

This is definitely not an argument for the voluntarism usually advocated by corporate critics of “command and control” regulation—a transparent rationalization for less corporate accountability.  If anything, postindustrial planning and regulation has to be more thoroughgoing and conscious, but this takes place on a multitude of levels, some of them not usually associated with the state.  What the state should be trying to both accomplish and express is a new regenerative economic balance of competition and cooperation.  BALLEnew.jpgUnhealthy forms of competition are blocking alternatives like eco-industrial networks that require substantial sharing of information and decision-making. Such competition is also behind the massive waste caused by the needless incompatibility of all kinds of electronic equipment.  By the same token, healthy competition to increase quality is, today, often stymied by monopoly corporate and financial interests.  Changing the competitive/cooperative balance is what many of the new enterprise networks, like BALLE, are all about.  Cooperation between ostensible competitors are creating ripple effects that are jump-starting whole regenerative industries like local-sustainable food systems.  They are quite different than old-line industry associations.  Governments have many crucial tools to reorient incentive structures; but their success depends on being tuned in to the pulse of society, including the new enterprise networks, and all other stakeholders.  The direction of this “regulatory pluralism”—characterized by openness and flexibility—would be to transform the very drivers of economic life, including the “DNA” of enterprises increasingly programmed for regenerative activity.  

 

One powerful force that must explicitly act as a regulatory mode is finance—preferential lending for activities and enterprise that correspond to well-defined green community plans.  There is something to said for ‘green jobs’ advocate Van Jones’ (2008) view that we have entered the “investment” phase of environmentalism, which he contrasts to two previous eras of “regulation” (1970s) and “conservation” (19th century).  By this he means not that we have moved beyond regulation or conservation, but that our primary need is for fundamental economic restructuring.  This is one reason why the concerns of some left critics—that the environmental movement has not matched its regulatory achievements of the seventies—are not really that relevant.  At a different level, the environmental movement has made substantial gains in developing ecological alternatives in basic sectors.  But today more comprehensive means are required to channel resources to ‘mainstream’ these alternatives. 

 

Finance itself would be only one part of the new incentive structure of a green economy.  For government, taxes, procurement, and infrastructure can all be major means of encouraging good things. Also, as discussed earlier, the very scale of the economy can encourage greater accountability—especially when local and regional governments refrain from giveaways to non-local corporations and chains.  But other kinds of rules and relationships are also necessary—especially those that institutionalize stakeholder power.  Mainstream  “corporate social responsibility” (CSR) pays much lip-service to stakeholder consultation; but processes are needed that concretely guarantee that all stakeholders have some degree of  decision-making over activities that impact their lives.  As former Business Ethics journal editor Majorie Kelly  (2002) wrote, “economic democracy is the next stage of corporate social responsibility.”  In a green economy, participation can rarely be separated from other dimensions.

 

Within academia concerned with CSR and green business, there is a growing literature on new forms of “non-state governance” and regulatory pluralism—expressed in developments like food, building and wood certification.  Many of these writers, however, underestimate the value-revolution that the expanded toolbox of regulatory instruments must ultimately accomplish.  The goal must—over the long haul—be to displace profit and accumulation as primary market drivers.  Cashore (2004), e.g., considers green 3rd-party certification systems as “non-state market-driven governance,” without fully appreciating that the best of these systems manifest a new form of market as much as a new form of governance.  When these certification systems are truly doing their job, the market drivers they create B-Tools-BestPractices.gifare primarily social and ecological, not financial.  Profit would by no means be incidental or unimportant, but would now be a means to realize qualitative value, not the end itself.  This is the ultimate meaning of “market transformation”—what Korten (1999) refers to as the creation of “mindful markets.”  This is especially clear in one of the most radical developments of the certification movement: that of the certification of business governance systems.  B Corporation’ is an example of this kind of certification that requires certified companies to embed social and environmental commitments into their governing documents.  This entails taking on substantial new liabilities, but on the other hand, provides the companies with markets and other network services.  Like the corporate charters movement, B Corp attempts to deal with the structural “pathology” [illustrated in the documentary The Corporation (Achbar et al., 2003)] of the publicly-traded limited-liability company chained to producer profit for shareholders.  It does this, however, in a positive way—emphasizing changing firm “DNA” more than imposing external restrictions on companies. 

 

One of the most fundamental challenges of the new green regulation is to connect responsibility with regeneration, which means redefining ownership to support stewardship. Abstract questions of public vs. private can be distracting holdovers from the industrial era.  From a green economic design perspective, the question is how ownership can be shaped to support stewardship.  For example, extended producer responsibility (EPR) is perhaps the most important policy principle of the “life cycle approach,” next to the precautionary principle.  In its classic application to, for example, consumer durables, EPR means centralized ownership, with producers on the financial hook for their products’ environmental impacts over their entire life-cycle.  Customers would purchase the service, but lease the product.  Typically, this encourages producers to design for disassembly and to detoxify their products, to minimize waste and life-cycle costs.  This shift would normally increase the labour component and decrease the resource component of production, encourage regionalism, and upgrade stakeholder relationships.  But EPR is a principle that has to be applied differently to different situations.  There are many cases where decentralized ownership—for example small landholding—would be most conducive to stewardship.  The state would have a major role to play in determining the appropriate balance of kinds of ownership.  But on the whole, in a green system of distributed regulation, government would be free to act less as a policeman and more as a coordinator. 

 

Strategic Priorities for Action: For the Economy and Universities

Despite the depth and the scope of the crises we face, making fundamental social change today demands an increasingly positive mindset for two interrelated reasons.  First, there is the appreciation that the new productive forces (NPFs) are grounded in all-around human development, and that they permit and require growing levels of decentralization.  Second, there is the recognition of the two key dimensions of a green or postindustrial economy:  (1) it must be primarily a service economy, organized for the direct targeting and satisfaction of human need, and (2) it has to be a more circular closed-loop system deeply integrated with nature, a sailboat in the winds of natural process.  

 

These new realities radically alter social change strategies compared to those of the industrial era which had to be more oppositionally-focused. Marx basically saw the working class revolution as happening before the appearance of the NPFs; in fact, it was the successful revolution’s job to make sure the NPFs were developed and implemented.  But the NPFs have begun to emerge before the revolution, fundamentally changing revolutionary strategy.  While in Marx’s time, the working class had to accomplish the revolution as the first step in creating the Good Society and the New Human, today the order is reversed: the working class must create the Good Society and the New Human in order to make the revolution.  Social and ecological alternatives become the centrepiece of movement strategy, with necessary oppositional activity geared to support this focus.  “Seizing the means of production” is still necessary, but today the means of production are ourselves and our full creative capacities. 

 

Despite the intellectual left’s slowness to acknowledge emerging potentials, it is well-placed to make substantial contributions to the tasks at hand, particularly in universities.  Because of the knowledge-intensity of postindustrial production, universities have key roles in the production, evaluation, training, and regulation of green economies.  Because of their size, coupled with the necessity of increasing localization, universities also have a major role to play in consumption, or market creation, within local economies. 

 

The development of new measures of qualitative value—and their economic application—are crucial to postindustrial development.  These include mass-balance accounts, eco-footprints, product LCA, firm eco-accounting, to Genuine Progress Indicators, local economic multipliers, sustainable community indicators and more.  Universities should be an important base not just for the study of emergent third-party certification systems (as suggested by Cashore), but for their creation. Another essential service that universities could contribute to would be comprehensive directories and databases of regenerative products and services.  These virtual marketplaces can be powerful tools in what will likely emerge over the next decade as one of the most significant strategic initiatives of green economic development: Local First (buy local) campaigns, organized by new community business networks and their diverse allies (Shuman, 2006).

 

The role of left intellectuals—embodying a heritage of critical political-economic thinking—can also provide “big picture” thinking that can be vital at a time when Wal-Mart efficiency measures are hailed as a sustainability revolution.  The ‘service and needs’ focus of a green economy is essentially postindustrial socialism.  This is not socialism as the industrial state formation, but as a philosophy of the priority of human need over blind market forces.  Such a tradition can be invaluable to understanding and supporting qualitative development today.  Critical thinking about markets today can be invaluable at a time when non-market and ‘mindful market’ production and exchange is exploding.  On one hand, many key forms of ecological production—energy retrofit, rooftop and community gardens, preventive health care, etc.—take place in or around the home, in the informal economy.  In today’s economy, these things are considered simply forms of consumption, and economically penalized; but we have to find ways of properly remunerating or supporting these essential activities.  On the other hand, we have to find ways of supporting the new peer production and mass collaboration of the emergent electronic commons without burdening it with restrictive market relationships. 

 

One of the great priorities for postindustrial development is the achievement of new forms of economic security.  The earlier discussion of the role of scarcity in suppressing progress only hints at the actual role of fear and insecurity in maintaining waste, exploitation and domination.  In tough times, people will do nasty things for money. Even when times are good, many people who have no interest in big money or power are nevertheless driven to compete and accumulate simply because they cannot trust society to take care of them when old or ill.  They cannot trust that their children can get a decent education.

 

Possible solutions might include Basic or Citizen Income schemes (guaranteed annual incomes).  If these programs can fully meet people’s basic needs, they can potentially unleash a tide of creative activity hitherto crippled by fear and uncertainty.  Carbon and other kinds of green taxation are appropriate sources of funding for Basic Incomes since a mutual goal is a fundamental shift in investment from resources to people.   Like many forms of green production, the approach is to employ savings as a source of finance.  Community currencies are also a fertile ground for experimentation with support for healthy forms of non-market production.  In our electronic environment, we can expect to see imaginative and sophisticated new forms of economic exchange, all geared to reclaiming the information revolution from the contemporary capitalism’s Casino Economy. 

 

In a complex society, many forms of public goods, new and old, are not most appropriately financed by user-pay, market prices or wages.  Benefits are spread so widely, it makes sense for governments or communities to provide for them, financed by taxes or whatever.  As the music industry has already found out, the electronic commons is displacing many unnecessary market relationships, and we should be making more conscious choices about how we might facilitate this in constructive ways.  In particular, we need to find out what kinds of economic security might unleash giving—and not simply reciprocity—as a major force in economic life. 

 

The biggest current impediment to universities tapping their potential as incubators of qualitative wealth is probably their attitudes toward localization and globalization.  Qualitative wealth is decidedly place-based, but the function of the industrial university has been increasingly to service big corporate enterprise, along with state infrastructure organized to support it.  There has been in the last several years heated debate about the future of higher education, pitting “job-training” vs. “liberal education.”  Many people on the left are justifiably concerned about the subordination of education to corporate needs, and so argue against a jobs focus.  But a greater emphasis on practical job skills is not in itself a bad idea, so long as this work is geared to provide for real community needs.  Such work goes hand-in-hand with the best kind of liberal education—since all-round human development is actually the most direct route to postindustrial productivity. One cannot make this case for corporate-global development, in which the university is being asked to produce intellectual labourers for work that is largely destructive of community and environment. 

 

In the corporate-global university, social change-oriented academics have been increasingly relegated to the realm of analysis and critique, not actual production. How many North American university faculty members are involved in creating sustainable food systems, designing soft energy systems, supporting green building, or initiating eco-industrial development? How many students, undergrad and grad, are concretely contributing to community development in their studies and research?  The university itself also remains unconscious of its major role within the local economy.  Simply basing its purchasing decisions on social and environmental values could radically affect the abilities of local economies to create regenerative work, generate dynamic local enterprises, and plug debilitating leaks in the regional economy.  Fortunately, there is a rapidly-growing “university sustainability” movement, but even here many of these initiatives still fail to acknowledge their impacts, existing and potential, on the economies of the communities in which they are situated.

 

In conclusion, the intellectual left has much to offer green and postindustrial transformation.  But first it has to acknowledge its character, its direction, and the role of knowledge in this change.  We are talking about far more than environmental protection here.  A retreat from vision—typical of much postmodernism—is a dead-end, but a positive embracing of qualitative change can be a service to all progressive social movements and to higher education. 

 

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