For the last five-plus months of my fellowship, I found myself adrift in a sea of questions: “What am I doing? Why am I doing it?” I desperately chased answers, only to stumble upon a book titled ‘Climate: A New Story‘ by Charles Eisenstein. Its opening lines offered a profound shift: not answers, but an invitation to love the questions more and appreciate the journey.
The prologue painted a vivid picture: a man lost in a maze, frantically searching for an exit. He blindly followed every path, growing increasingly weary and frustrated. Wise voices, representing societal pressures, urged him to run faster, choose more efficiently. Yet, progress remained elusive.
Exhausted, he collapsed. In the quiet, a new awareness emerged. He saw the patterns in his frantic movements, the unexplored paths he dismissed, the hidden doors he ignored. As his mind calmed, he began to hear a beautiful melody, a constant presence drowned out by his frantic pace.
He rose, determined to walk mindfully. He explored the neglected pathways, ventured through hidden doors, embracing the unfamiliar. This slow and conscious new exploration, guided by the melody, offered glimpses of hope.
As he ventured deeper, the map proved useless. He faced each turn with an open mind, listening to the guiding melody. It sometimes led him astray, yet with each step, his trust in its guidance deepened.
Following the music, he finally reached a final passage bathed in sunlight. He emerged into a breathtaking world, more beautiful than he could have imagined. And there, he found the source of the melody: his own inner voice, guiding him all along.
This story resonated deeply. I realized I too was lost in my own maze, rushing from one pursuit to another. Like the man, I dismissed alternative paths in favor of the familiar, the “efficient.” It was time to slow down, listen to the inner melody, and re-examine the very foundation of my pursuits.
This re-examination led me to explore concepts like ‘degrowth’ and ‘conscious living’. Degrowth was entirely a new concept for me. When I started to read more about degrowth, I understood that it’s a bold vision for restructuring society towards sustainability and equity. At its core, degrowth challenges the notion that continuous economic growth is necessary or even desirable for human well-being. Instead, it advocates for a deliberate reduction in production and consumption levels, with the goal of achieving a balance between human needs and environmental limits.
This paradigm shift requires a fundamental revaluation of our values and priorities. Rather than measuring progress solely in terms of GDP growth, degrowth emphasizes the importance of social justice, ecological resilience, and overall quality of life. It calls for a shift away from a consumerist culture that prioritizes material wealth accumulation towards one that values community, relationships, and personal fulfilment.
Practically, degrowth entails a variety of strategies and practices aimed at reducing resource use, waste generation, and overall ecological footprint. This could involve measures such as shorter work hours, redistribution of wealth, investment in public goods and services, and prioritization of local economies over globalized production and trade.
After realizing that it’s my way, I started to advocate the concept of Degrowth. It got a lot of setbacks and criticism from people around me. Some argue that it is unrealistic or even harmful to economic stability and human prosperity. Then I tried to quote Sam Alexander, a degrowth advocate and research fellow at the Melbourne Sustainable Society Institute, who says, “degrowth doesn’t mean we are going to be living in caves with candles.” Instead, it might mean people in rich countries changing their diets, living in smaller houses and driving and traveling less. “It is important to clarify that degrowth is not about reducing GDP,” says Jason Hickel, a University of London academic, “but rather about reducing [energy and resource] throughout.”
Another such heated debate unfolded on a train journey from Delhi to Chennai, where I encountered young individuals, some preparing for UPSC exams, focused on achieving their career goals. Their perspectives, driven by notions of time and economic efficiency, highlighted a crucial disconnect. Their definition of “economy” didn’t encompass the very foundation it depends on: ecology. “Eco” means home, “logy” is knowledge, and “nomy” is management. Without knowledge of our home—our ecology—how can we effectively manage our affairs?
This disconnect lies at the heart of our current predicament. We chase “growth” and efficiency at the expense of our ecological home. Our measures of progress, like GDP, fail to account for the true costs of environmental degradation. Whenever an oil spill occurs, whenever a tree gets cut down, whenever a person gets diagnosed with cancer, our GDP starts to rise and the same GDP, we consider as wealth of the nation.
I would like to conclude my blog with a reminder on ‘interbeing’. It doesn’t go far to say that ‘we are all one’, but to say that existence is relational and to live is to relate. The world is part of me, just as I am part of it. Whatever happens to the world is somehow happening to me. Every injustice happens in the world as injustice happens to us. We are sharing commons, the same air, the same water and the same planet. The bombings happening around the world for dominance, genocides, and other acts of violence are not isolated occurrences; they are assaults on our collective humanity. The violence happening anywhere in the world is violence against us. We don’t have any more time, resources, or excuses to ignore the interconnectedness of our existence. And we must understand that another world is not only possible, but also essential for us and our future.
The Covid pandemic served as a stark reminder of our interbeing. We felt the impact of others’ actions, just as our actions impact others. Understanding this concept of interbeing isn’t just a philosophical exercise; it’s a call to action. It necessitates a shift in perspective, a way of being and acting that acknowledges our interconnectedness. We must connect the dots, weave the tapestry of our shared reality, and proclaim the need for change.
Only by recognizing our interconnectedness and prioritizing ecological balance can we navigate our way out of the maze and build a future that is sustainable and just for all. Listen around, listen to the voice from inside. Live slowly.
