One of the most disruptive characteristics of our present time is a Great Unease: an assertive sense of always having to do something; having always to be on the move; and ever having to be part of a virulent and addictive consumption. The present economic turmoil suggests that this way of being is highly unstable and damaging and, since it is certain that we cannot find a solution in the old ways that have brought us to where we are, we need to find new ways of being.

What about turning our old ways on their head? What would it be like if, instead of greed, discontent and selfishness we sought a way that was based upon unfashionable qualities such as patience, slowness, gentleness, selflessness, humility, simplicity and peacefulness? Oddly enough, I want to suggest that these are the very qualities that we need for a new economy and a new way of life that would be more sustainable and more likely to deliver well-being.

I do not have a set of ready-made answers but rather some questions that, it seems to me, might be asked. They include the following:

Should we lower the velocity of money in our economy and reduce our levels of indebtedness?

Should we be more discerning about economic activity, focusing less on the quantity of our consumption and more upon its quality and real cost?

Should we be travelling less and favouring local food production?

Should we be sharing well-being more evenly?

Should we relate the value of our houses more to occupancy and less to investment?

Our present economic disruption – let alone the evidence of environmental and social instability, to which, of course the economy is fettered – is surely evidence that we cannot afford or sustain the levels of consumption to which we have become accustomed. Although no politician would ever be able to say that this is so, surely the only conclusion is that most of us must have less. For many of us a reduction of our consumption by say 10% would not leave us in poverty. We would continue to be relatively well off. And for those that are already poor, we would continue to have a responsibility to share our wealth and income in such a way that they were looked after and had enough. Economies and markets would adjust but at a new level and in new ways. Since all the evidence suggests that most of the economic growth of the last thirty or so years has not been translated into a felt sense of greater well-being, we might even find that our lives were still in many ways entirely satisfactory. And if the wider consequence of this “sacrifice” was a more sustainable economy and a more sustainable environment, might there not also be benefits to our children and to society as a whole?

I am sure that this sounds absurd but what other conclusion is it sensible to come to?

David Cadman, writer
Quaker sustainability consultant