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Chapter 5 of Expanding the Boundaries of
Transformative Learning: Essays on Theory and Praxis edited by Edmund V. O’Sullivan,
Amish Morrell, and Mary Ann O’Connor Palgrave, 2002 |
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From Opposition to Alternatives: Postindustrial Potentials & Transformative Learning Brian
Milani Culture and Qualitative Development Politics and Identity Beyond Cog-Labour The Ecological Service Economy as Postindustrial Socialism
The Transformative Educational Agenda The possibilities for social movement
learning, and most aspects of transformative learning, are historically
specific. The cultural, economic and
technological potentials of society clearly affect the goals of social
change. This even includes
possibilities for personal-spiritual change, but this is a topic I cannot
deal with here. In this essay, I want to look—from a political-economic point
of view—at how postindustrial development potentials have affected political
strategies—and the educational agenda—for radical social change today. In the wake of the anti-free trade
protests in This is an important debate
because the anti-globalization movement expresses a high-water mark of social
activism dating back to the decline of the last mass tide of activism in the
early seventies. The decline of those
movements was due to many factors, but a major one was undoubtedly that they
were unable to define satisfactory alternatives to what they opposed. This is understandable since they were
relatively new movements, without a lot of time to find common ground and
make their (largely implicit) alternative visions concrete. The environmental movement in particular
was very young, and this is very significant in view of how central the
ecological dimension is to economic alternatives. Besides this, the economic boom of postwar Fordist capitalism was just cresting, and the hollowness
of the promises of the Welfare State and economic growth were just starting
to be acknowledged. Another reason why it would be
unrealistic to expect that the new social movements of the sixties to provide
comprehensive alternatives is that such an alternative project was historically unprecedented. The new social movements of the Fordist era—for peace, women’s liberation, the
environment, Afro-American and aboriginal self-determination, etc.—were
themselves expressions of emerging human potentials and new productive forces
(NPFs).
These potentials were first visible during the Roaring Twenties with
its vibrant cultural experimentation.
But after a harsh dose of material depravation in the Great Depression,
and then wartime mobilization, it would be the sixties before the new
sensibilities would reemerge in the new social movements. These new sensibilities were largely the product of
a major movement of industrialization into the realm of culture. Old roles and identities, based on labour and on gender, began to break down as work, social
organization, and consumption changed.
The process intensified throughout the twentieth century. The so-called information revolution is
often seen to be the driving economic force behind this upheaval, but it has
actually been only one small aspect of it.
The most important thing is not the new role of information, but a new
role for human creativity in general—expressed in a fundamentally new
relationship of culture to the economy.
It is a transformation that has also profoundly changed the nature of
politics. I will come back to elaborate on
these political-economic-cultural dynamics, but my basic point is that in
this new context, alternatives play a much more important role in social transformation
than in the classical era of industrial capitalism. During the early period of industrialism,
the progressive social movements were primarily concerned with the distribution
of society’s wealth. In the current
period—marked by postindustrial potentials—the new social movements are more
concerned, at least implicitly, with the redefinition of wealth: from quantity to
quality, from accumulation to regeneration. Not only have the concerns of popular movements
changed over time, but the NPFs have also
fundamentally changed the relationship between opposition and alternatives in
progressive movement strategy. The old labour and
socialist movements of the past needed to have control not only of the means
of production but also of state power in order to implement any substantial
alternatives. Today, it is possible
to begin to create these alternatives
directly without having prior control of the state (Roberts & Brandum, 1995). This
is not just because eco-technologies are more developed, but because even
much mainstream technological development tends towards
decentralization. Think, for example,
of fuel cells and “distributed generation” in the energy sector. Even though
market globalization is trying politically and economically to offset these
technological potentials, this is very wasteful, and many decentralizing
tendencies are still powerful. This
can work in our favour, and we are in a very
different situation than the one that, for instance, Ghandi
faced when he advocated self-reliant community economies. The tasks of redefining wealth,
and of defining and creating specific alternatives in every sector of the
economy, are core responsibilities of transformative learning today. Before getting any more specific about them,
however, we should look at little more closely at the role of culture in
postindustrial development. Culture
and Qualitative Development The new movements that have
occupied the progressive political stage since WW II have been much more
culturally-defined and more concerned with quality-of-life than the older labour
and socialist movements. They sprung
from a new form of capitalism in which industrialization had moved into the
realm of culture and quality, with both inputs and outputs of production
becoming more cultural. The rise of intellectual labour,
new kinds of services, cultural industry, mass education, and eventually, the
growing concern with lifelong learning, are all manifestations of this new
importance of culture. Industrial
capitalism has more or less integrated these elements into its forms of
production and exchange, but it is not generally appreciated what
contradictions have been involved and what strains this has put on the
system. The system has been strained
because, compared to material products, culture is not so easily commodified and accumulated. Culture is largely a qualitative
phenomenon. Industrialism, by
contrast, is essentially a system of quantitative development, based in money
and matter. More is always better. The
system prioritizes accumulation above everything else, satisfying people’s
needs only indirectly as a by-product, spin-off, side-effect or
trickle-down. For example, it produces
as many cars as is profitable, assuming people’s transportation needs will be
taken care of. It produces any food
commodities that will sell, assuming nutritional needs will be
satisfied. The state is charged with
filling in the gaps when the spin-off is intolerably insufficient, but real
needs, be they social or environmental, still take a backseat to
accumulation. This in fact is the very definition of capitalism: “exchange-value” must always come before
“use-value” or social need. During an earlier phase of industrialism—when
the primary end-markets were overwhelmingly for products to satisfy primary
needs (food, shelter, clothing, etc.)—this one-sided focus on accumulation
made more sense. Primary needs are
pretty standard, and the goal of overcoming scarcity was
uncontroversial. Socialists and labour activists generally had no quibble with the
industrial definition of wealth—money and matter. They were concerned primarily with the distribution of this wealth, and the
conditions in which workers produced it (Paehlke, 1989). Except for some
communitarian and utopian socialists, few argued with the benefits of
economic growth or what I will call quantitative development. Things change, however, when both the inputs and
outputs of production become less material. In the conventional industrial
system, the key factors are cog-labour and vast
amounts of physical resources. With
the industrialization of culture, human creativity becomes the key factor; it
can begin to displace both drudge-labour and
resources from production. This is a
major threat to capitalism for a couple important reasons. First, cultural production is not really
compatible with capitalist markets geared to accumulation and the “allocation
of scarce resources”. Industrial capitalism is a mode of quantitative
development, based in matter and money; its supposedly self-regulating
markets do not work properly when faced with non-standardized needs and
products. This is one reason behind the Great Depression—a market failure
that dramatized the historical limits of quantitative development. At this stage, some kind of conscious
intervention is needed. Qualitative wealth defies commodification
for a variety of reasons, but one of the most important ones is that it
requires the direct and specific targeting of human need. It doesn’t just happen as a spin-off or
trickle-down of accumulation. In fact,
as we see so clearly in terms of environmental health, an excess of quantity
(e.g. economic growth) can destroy quality (e.g. ecological balance or
community). Increasingly real quality
requires dematerialization. This is
not an argument against matter and money—only that they be dethroned as
humanity’s economic gods, and become strictly means to the end of real
qualitative development. The second and related reason why
the industrialization of culture has been a latent threat to capitalism is
because the NPFs embody the possibility of moving
beyond scarcity. Capitalism is a class
society, and class society is based in relative scarcity, both material and
cultural. Class power involves the
control of scarce resources—the economic surplus—by a minority. Absolute abundance undermines class,
because when people have all their basic needs taken care of, they are not so
compelled to take orders. In this sense, industrial capitalism has always been
a living contradiction, because its open-ended productiveness and its
constant economic growth were destined from the first to eventually undermine
the scarcity basis of class rule. This
inevitability came to fruition with the Great Depression, which has been
referred as a structural crisis of overproduction. The post-WWI technological explosion of the
twenties generated a productive output far beyond the capacity of worker-consumers
to purchase. After the 1929 crash, a
chronic crisis of “effective demand” and “business confidence” ensued and put
a final end to classical capitalist free markets (Block, 1986; Guttmann,
1994). In this sense, the Great
Depression was a spontaneous system shutdown in response to the threat of
abundance, and capitalism would henceforth need various forms of state
intervention not simply to perpetuate economic growth but to maintain
scarcity. The threat to scarcity and class
was, however, been just as much cultural as economic. Class society has always been based on a
monopoly of “high culture” by a privileged minority. The maintenance of a gap between high and folk
culture has been just as essential to ruling groups as control of the state
or the economic surplus. By
industrializing culture, however, industrialism gives workers new cultural
and intellectual capacities that might undercut their cultural
dependence. The twentieth century has
seen the virtual elimination of the distinction between “high” and “folk”
culture—as we see so clearly in the sophistication attained by folk arts like
jazz. Capitalism has had to reproduce
class relationships in other more subtle ways, but always there has lurked
the latent spectre of a classless society. For capitalism, the crucial means
by which it has perpetuated scarcity—both material and cultural—has been
waste. Quantitative growth has been
kept going, and yet this hasn’t begun to meet all the basic needs of the
people. After WW II, the key elements
of the Fordist waste economy were the arms economy
and the privatized consumer economy based in suburbanization. The latter was a fragmented landscape,
populated by bungalows and cars, and powered by oil, which maximized the consumption
of virtually every material. The
blatant wastefulness obviously maintained material scarcity. But just as important is the fantastic
waste of human potential implicit in the extension of cog-labour
to all kinds of unnecessary or alienated production—from cars, to finance, to
TV, to junk foods, to pornography.
Alienated forms of consumption have been just as suppressive of
cultural development. Such a
capital-intensive form of development also inevitably worked to limit the
power of organized labour—since it channeled the
information revolution in the direction of displacing labour
(rather than resources) from production.
Even with the legitimization of collective bargaining in mass
production, eventually labour’s strength would be
eroded. This has been very obvious
since the mid-seventies. This role of scarcity in
maintaining class and quantitative development is one reason why certain
environmentalists are wrong when they see our environmental crisis as
resulting from affluence in the developed countries. The problem is not affluence but effluence—i.e.
waste that artificially reinforces scarcity relationships. The compulsion to get money is a constant
distraction from more regenerative goals.
If we were able to
free people and firms of the compulsion to get money or
accumulate capital, we could more easily target real human and environmental
needs and substantially de-materialize the economy. Appreciating how important waste
is in maintaining class today shows how environmental questions are
absolutely central to questions of economic development, political power and
social justice. Waste has been the
crucial structural means by which industrial capitalism has maintained
anachronistic relationships. The
alternatives that must be implemented are not simply new forms of
distribution or governance, but substantial new designs for every economic
sector to fit within natural processes.
Ecological design helps establish the economic basis for justice,
equality and democracy. Real postindustrialism is all
about actualizing potentials for qualitative wealth creation, for putting
human development first, for dematerializing the
economy, and integrating economic processes within natural cycles. Besides
spawning new potentials for economic development, the industrialization of
culture has also created the possibility of new forms of regulation and
political action. A green economy does
not simply require a new politics of ecology (as the mainstream green parties
tell us), but a new ecology of politics—featuring
the de-compartmentalization of politics as a separate realm. It is no surprise that the new
social movements have not focused primarily on elections, party politics or
the state. Intuitively they know that
the old political forms are designed to narrow and fragment important issues
and relationships. It is not even
enough to democratize the state, because the state itself is a problem,
serving to keep politics out of daily life and everyday activity. The role of the state as a rule-maker is a
very important one. But there are all
kinds of ways to create pressure to change the rules while building parallel
grassroots power. The original separation of
politics, economics and culture in classical industrial society was to some
extent inevitable. Perpetual economic
growth was a totally new phenomenon, and industry was the engine of
progress. As Polanyi
(1957) showed, the new market economy and the associated property
relationships were deliberately created by the state. But it is also true that the new industrial
economies raged on like runaway trains without anyone at the controls. The
new importance of production gave the working classes a strategic position to
exercise power it never had in agricultural societies. Workers struggled for the right to vote,
but this unprecedented political power was something that ruling groups could
concede. On one hand, electoral
democracy could act as a kind of social feedback mechanism for the elite,
providing some stability for the runaway economy. On the other hand, the political realm
could be isolated from the economic realm, where the real power lay. Class interests used the state to
institutionalize property relationships that insulated the economic realm
from the political ( This was a temporary situation,
however. As the industrialization of
culture gathered stream early in the twentieth century, markets became
increasingly incapable of performing their assigned tasks of efficiently
distributing resources. The
cultural-economic revolution also began to provide the state with the
organizational and informational tools to manage the economy: especially
white-collar labour, the substance of
bureaucracy. The erosion of the
industrial separation between politics, economics and culture had begun—an erosion that would threaten class power if left to
continue. Bureaucracy might be seen as
something of a threat to markets, but it could also be a new means of
reproducing class relationships. It
depended on how the new political-economic forms of integration would take
place. State socialist regimes began to appear. Corporations—which are actually large
political-economic organizations (or “industrial governments” as David Bazelon [1963] put it)—came to replace individual
entrepreneurs and family businesses.
New forms of Welfare State capitalism emerged which permitted
political-economic integration at the highest levels, but kept politics and
economics well fragmented in the daily life of ordinary citizens. Again, especially in In this context, it is no surprise
that the new social movements would move beyond strictly distributional
struggles, especially those focused on the workplace and the state. And while the new movements would use
conventional political avenues, they would not subordinate themselves to
these processes. They would insist on
a broadening of politics. Politics and Identity Beyond Cog-Labour The fragmentation of industrial
society, along with working class cultural dependence, dictated a dual
strategy of change for the 19th century working class. It had to get control of the means of
production, or at least establish some power at the (paid) workplace and on
the labour market—which it tried to do through
trade unionism. But it also had to
exert some power in society at large, by influencing or getting control of
the state. Whether peaceful or
otherwise, substantial change required action on these two fronts, economic and
political. Underlying it all was cog-labour,
or what Marxists would call “simple labour-power”,
which defined the role of the human being in the industrial system, as it
shaped working class consciousness and identity. Industrial machines were not, like craft
tools, extensions of the worker; but rather, the worker was a cog in the
machine system, as well as a commodity on the labour
market. The essential unpaid domestic
work that reproduced this labour, while uncommodified, was equally routine and drudge-like. Workers immersed in cog-labour,
be it paid or unpaid, clearly had neither the time, nor the skills, to carry
out the dual strategy alone.
Politically, the working class needed representatives—advanced workers
and sympathetic intellectuals—to carry on the political struggle via
Socialist, Social Democratic, Labour or Democratic
parties. This was the role of the organized left. During an era when the working
class was shaped by cog-labour and cultural
dependence, the organized left served as the proverbial head on the working class body.
It was the workers’ shadow state and carried on the struggle in the separate
political realm. It was after state
power, and no substantial economic alternatives could be implemented until
after its attainment. And, as
discussed earlier, the focus of the alternatives was on redistributing wealth
material wealth, not redefining it. Today there exists
a very different situation. The
working class is large and almost synonymous with “the people”. It is not a
homogenous mass, however, and its progressive elements are constantly moving
to express the diversity and complexity of human experience. So-called “identity politics” is the
expression of people looking not only beyond class, but also beyond cog-labour for a deeper sense of selfhood, integrating their
cultural heritages with new developmental possibilities. The new social movements have attacked all
restrictions on human potential development as expressed in racism, sexism,
ageism, anthropocentrism, etc. They
have worked to undermine not simply class society, but all the interrelated
forms of domination that date back to the beginnings of civilization. Identity politics is by no means peripheral
to economic issues, but, at its best, our means of taking control of the
“people-production” that is at the core of the new productive forces. Today, the crucial productive forces are not
machinery, but human creativity and self-development—which exist
everywhere. We have moved beyond the
era of thing-production to one of people-production,
but the industrial system attempts to disguise this by producing
people-as-things, and creating so much material waste. Industrialism has always kept key forms of human and
ecological productivity invisible—for example, domestic labour
and ecosystem services. Today’s Casino
Capitalism has maintained and extended this invisibility via the undervaluing
of natural resources and many human activities. But the competitive struggle in capitalism
means that the system must deploy at least certain aspects of the NPFs. So it
selectively cultivates and channels this creative activity into destructive
and anti-social forms of production: financial industry, defense industry,
genetic engineering, advertising, etc.
Not only is this deployment of human creativity, as expressed in
high-skill jobs, destructive, but it is also restricted to a narrow band of
the work force. As For the working class of today,
seizing the means of production essentially means seizing ourselves. While
institutional change is important, there is a crucial internal dimension to
change. People must not only reclaim
control over their creative capacities, but they must begin to cooperatively
establish productive economic outlets for this creativity—in the form of
grassroots community-based ecological alternatives. Many of the existing mainstream forms of
production are not worth saving. They
are invariably wasteful and inefficient.
Whether we look at agriculture, the energy, manufacturing or even
finance, socially- and ecologically-responsible production would be
completely different in form and content.
This strategic importance of
alternatives, along with the cultural capacity of the working class, has
great implications for both the form and content of revolutionary strategy
today. First the historic
organizational role of the left is obsolete. The working class does not need
to be led or represented—it can do that itself, in many diverse forms. Second, the division between politics,
economics and culture has no material, social or technological justification
as it did in 19th century capitalism. This division is artificially maintained
for political reasons. The realm of
real politics is everyday life—everyday culture and economics, and the
crucial forms of political action are in these areas. Not even technology can be invoked
when justifying world-scale division of labour. As mentioned earlier, the direction of most
technological development is toward decentralization. Even in manufacturing, industrial
ecologists point out that reuse-based industry with extended producer
responsibility demands more local-regional production. All this means big changes in
revolutionary social change strategy.
Marx lived and wrote at a time before the emergence of postindustrial
productive forces. He believed, correctly,
that it would take conscious popular political direction for these new
productive forces (NPFs) to be comprehensively
applied. He saw working class
revolution as a prerequisite for the creation of the New Human and the
establishment of direct democracy. He saw it happening
through its representatives, the organized left, whom he apparently believed
could be made accountable enough to eventually allow the "withering away
of the state" as the gradual emergence of post-industrial productive
forces facilitated the blossoming of direct democracy. Marx, clearly, was an
optimist. The actual situation is, of course, that the NPFs have emerged, making possible both working class
autonomy and direct democracy, but prior to the revolution. Put another way,
originally the revolution was to be made in order to create New Human and implement
direct democracy. But today we need to create the New Human and establish
direct democracy in order to make the revolution. The withering
away of the organized left is the internal reflection of the need to move
beyond state-focused politics. We don’t need a shadow state basically because
we don’t need the (industrial) state. The Ecological
Service Economy as Postindustrial Socialism
The kind of state we do need is very different than the
industrial state. It is far less
autonomous from civil society, community networks, bioregional processes, and
the alternative forms of production at the heart of a green economy. By and large, the state must become more of
a co-ordinator, and less of a policeman.
It would be able to do this not simply because of its advocacy of a
community economic vision, but because of New Rules that could revamp the
driving forces of economic life. Even among those who acknowledge the need for
substantially different forms of production and consumption in a green
economy, it is not generally acknowledged we also need radically different
forms of regulation. I don’t mean
simply a more democratized state and greater levels of popular participation.
That is certainly important and I deal with new forms of local democracy, particularly
Green Municipalism, in my book (Milani, 2000). But here I want to emphasize that we need
not simply controls on private greed and power, but rule-changes so
fundamental that private enterprise becomes intrinsically social and ecological. Perhaps the most crucial concept for understanding this
possible new role of the state is that of the ecological service economy.
This idea is antithetical to the conventional notion of the “postindustrial service economy”—in which manufacturing is
shipped out of the developed nations to cheap-labour countries. In the ecological service economy,
manufacturing stays local/regional, but becomes more geared to service. In this economy, social need—rather than
production-for-production’s-sake—would be prioritized, and material
substances become simply means to the
end of satisfying the “service need”.
Examples of service needs are nutrition (rather than food
commodities), transportation or access (rather than cars), entertainment
(rather VCRs), and so on. This kind
of service-based economy is the logical outcome of rules that enforce extended producer responsibility (or
EPR). When producers must take
responsibility for substances over their entire lifecycles, they get very
creative about conserving materials, and making them safe, so that lots of
things get reused, designed for reuse, and designed for compostability. In a reuse-based economy, even
manufacturing work tends to become more like service work (e.g. like shoe
repair). Compared to the unhealthy drudge-labour
associated with conventional recycling, reuse-based work is also more
creative and highly-skilled. The notion of the ecological
service economy has been popularized and elaborated by industrial ecologists
like Walter Stahel (1994). But it really goes back to Amory Lovin’s (1977) soft energy path analysis of the
seventies, when he argued for an “end-use” approach to energy, where we would
aim for “hot showers and cold beer”, rather than power plants and fossil
fuels. Energy supply would be matched
in both quality and scale to the task at hand, after the real need had been carefully considered. Because most of the current
discussions about a green service economy come from industrial ecologists,
people have associated this mainly with green business and philosophies of
“natural capitalism”. But the logical
implication of making end-use the starting point for all economic design is
the creation of a kind of postindustrial socialism. This is because capitalism, by definition,
does and cannot prioritize social need.
Even if capitalism might be radically democratized, it still it geared
to accumulation, with social need still a spin-off
or by-product. It is possible for businesses to sell services, as Xerox, Inferface and many others do. But it is another matter to base an entire
economy on extended producer responsibility and related end-use
incentives. It puts the economic
spotlight on human (and environmental) need, which will ultimately even force
us to distinguish between “wants” and “needs”. This kind of state action is
geared to redefining wealth, changing the relationship between means and ends
in economic life. Industrial forms of
state socialism, except perhaps for very brief historical moments, did not
really work to redefine wealth qualitatively.
They did not attempt to overcome the split between the social and
individual, between exchange-value and use-value, or between politics and
economics. They simply identified with
the other side of the division. In
doing so, they ended up, as Wallerstein argued,
running whole societies like giant corporations. The point of postindustrial
socialism would be not to limit the self-aggrandizing individual with
regulatory boundaries, but to transform individual enterprise altogether, to
infuse it with ethical/ecological action.
It would do this by changing the rules of the economic game with such
systems as extended producer liability.
But such systems would be insufficient in themselves to create a
comprehensive environment of regenerative incentives and disincentives. Here I will mention just a few more crucial
elements in the economic design mosaic that the state can have some role in
facilitating if not directing. Again,
it should be clear that we can begin to move on these things even before we
have popular control of the state: ·
Appropriate scale for the economy: this would tend to be much
smaller than at present, geared to make the most efficient use of local
skills and (largely renewable) resources.
Appropriate scale is absolutely essential to build accountability into
economic decisions. ·
Community account-money systems (like LETS) employ forms of money
which not only support local activity but they eliminate accumulation
altogether and focus exchange on use-value.
·
A people’s financial system: The financial system itself could
become an important form of community self-regulation if the principal
lenders—e.g. credit unions, development banks, etc.—make loans primarily for
projects that corresponded to the community’s green development vision. ·
A ·
Community Indicators: Indicators
are essential tools in generating qualitative wealth. They measure and monitor this wealth, and
help to displace money as the primary conveyer of value. Many kinds of indicators can be helpful—for
example, alternatives to the national GDP like the well-known Genuine
Progress Indicator. But because
qualitative wealth is very specific to people and places, the most important
are “sustainable community indicators”.
They combine objective factors (like eco-footprints and social stats)
with more subjective preferences of the community. They provide ways of measuring progress
toward achieving the green plan, but they are also the ways that communities
discuss and decide what is valuable. The Transformative Educational Agenda A visionary agenda is one that can be, and is being,
implemented today. The alternatives movement is growing rapidly. It has a very large educational
component—not just a critique of the existing system, but positive visions
and techniques intrinsic to green community development. Today there is raging debate about whether education
should be geared to a “liberal education” or training for jobs. The debate totally ignores the nature of
the jobs that are currently being created—whose primary purpose is to create
profit by destroying community and the environment. There is no question that education should
be directed to serve the community and economy. But the key to serving the community and
economy is developing whole human beings.
Conversely, whole human beings need a social context whereby their
energies can help regenerate their communities. Green and community-development alternatives are,
par excellence, knowledge-based activities, much more so than mainstream
development. But the educational
resources currently at their disposal are woefully inadequate. Permaculture,
eco-design, industrial ecology, and the like are generally not taught in our
educational system. At best, they
exist as fringe courses at especially progressive faculties. More commonly they are privately organized
as weekend workshops and weekly seminars.
The movement to make green-community education
mainstream would be helped tremendously by the development of large community
visions or Green Development Plans.
They could serve as both planning and educational tools. Such plans could show how alternatives in
the food system, in energy, in manufacturing and resource use, in
communications, in health care, etc. tie together into a cohesive paradigm of
economic development that constitutes a realistic alternative to corporate
globalization. These plans could tie
into the community indicator projects—which exist in many places already—and
focus both local and regional government on real problems and
opportunities. Green plans and indicators are also fertile ground
for important research, especially for students and academics who would like
to see some positive social outlet for their research activities. These plans
would also provide guidelines for new educational initiatives that could
provide regenerative skills for community and ecological development. They would provide legitimacy and
encouragement for the creative disciplines that desperately need to be
expanded and made available to enthusiastic young people. THE END References Bazelon, David, The Paper Economy, Block, Fred, Revising State Theory: Essays in Politics and
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Milani, Brian, Designing
the Green Economy: the Postindustrial Alternative
to Corporate Globalization, Lanham MD: Rowman
& Littlefield, 2000 Montgomery, David, Citizen Worker: The Experience of Workers
in the Paehlke, Robert C., Environmentalism
and the Future of Progressive Politics, Polanyi, Karl, The
Great Transformation, Roberts, Wayne and Susan
Brandum, Get
a Life! How to make a good buck, Dance around the dinosaurs, and Save the
world while you're at it, Stahel, Walter R., "The Utilization-Focused Service Economy: Resource
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