Making the Good Life Last: Four Keys to Sustainable Living - Couverture souple

Schuler, Michael

Couverture souple

ISBN 10 : 1576755703 ISBN 13 : 9781576755709

Editeur : Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2009

Synopsis

In our materialist culture, the idea of “the good life”—fancy cars, designer clothes, once-in-a-lifetime vacations—leaves even those few who can afford it feeling anxious, empty, and dissatisfied. Michael Schuler deconstructs the assumption that consumption and constant stimulation equal happiness. He shows how, by applying the principles of sustainability to our personal lives, we can discover treasures of perennial value: a beautiful and healthy earth home, enduring relationships, strong communities, work that contributes to the common good, and play that restores our bodies and lifts our souls.

A propos du livre

À propos de l'auteur

A fifth-generation native of Dixon, Illinois, a modest town straddling the Rock River, Michael A. Schuler returned with his family to the upper reaches of the same watershed in 1988, after an absence of twenty years. Since then, they have made their home in Madison, Wisconsin, where Michael has served as senior minister of the First Unitarian Society of Madison, a congregation that has grown from 500 to 1,500 adult members during his tenure. In the fall of 2008 the Society completed a sustainably designed, LEED- certified, 23,000-square-foot addition to its original Frank Lloyd Wright–designed Meeting House in keeping with the organic principles that America’s greatest architect once championed.

Extrait. © Reproduit sur autorisation. Tous droits réservés.

A Personal Awakening

A four-month sabbatical in late 2005 lent both substance and a sense of urgency to a question that had been nagging at me for quite some time: what would it take, and what would it mean, to move toward a more sustainable way of living?

My wife, Trina, and I were fortunate to have been offered the use of a lovely home in northwest Tucson for this period of writing and reflection. Tucson is the second largest city in Arizona and reputedly the most progressive metropolis in the desert Southwest. Its neighborhoods literally fill the cavity between four rugged mountain ranges. Fast-moving traffic hums along the wide thoroughfares that crisscross the desert, connecting the urban area’s growing population to a plethora of strip malls, office complexes, and recreational facilities. New residential and commercial developments continue to spring up at the peripheries, scaling the Santa Catalina foothills and fingering north through the Sonora Desert toward Phoenix.

Over 700,000 human beings now live in the Tucson area, and for Pima County as a whole the numbers climb to almost a million. Historically, the inhospitable climate of southern Arizona made it unattractive to all but the hardiest of indigenous peoples, the 2Tohono O’odham. Even the Spanish found little in the area to recommend permanent settlement, at least not on the scale of an El Paso or a Santa Fe.

Tucson is, therefore, a fairly young city by southwestern standards. A settlement of little consequence until the 1880s, it has existed as a viable center of human habitation for less than a century and a quarter. But with the presence of a major university and a nearby military installation, and with a steady influx of legions of sun lovers from the continent’s colder regions, Tucson has grown rapidly and somewhat randomly since World War II.

The community’s popularity has produced its share of negative results. Gazing south from the Catalina foothills during morning rush hour, one often has difficulty locating the downtown through a low-lying bank of unhealthy-looking yellow smog, a phenomenon created almost exclusively by a flood of auto commuters. The standard of living in Tucson is woefully unbalanced; as a result, crimes against property are climbing, and in their wake, the number of economically segregated, gated communities is growing. Residents express worry about such developments, as well as the steady deterioration of Tucson’s unique southwestern ambience and its overall quality of life. Still, any effort to control growth or intelligently manage further development inevitably falters before the irrefutable claims of the free market and the individual citizen’s presumed right to personal gain. Prior to the 2008–09 recession, officials estimated that Greater Tucson would gain another half million residents in the next thirty to forty years—a prospect that had local construction and real estate interests licking their lips in anticipatory delight.

However, for a Sun Belt community Tucson does seem relatively enlightened. While Greater Phoenix appears to be determined to repudiate its native desert environment, Tucson has chosen to accept and even to embrace it. Houses in Tucson almost without exception eschew green turf and feature natural, desert plantings. Drip irrigation systems are the rule, and per capita water consumption is significantly lower than in comparable southwestern cities.1

Furthermore, while its public transportation system is unexceptional, Tucson has established and continues to expand an 3admirable network of bike routes (of which many citizens take full advantage). The city is reasonably clean, its public parks attractive, and the populace generally friendly and conscientious.

Perhaps because I lived there only temporarily and have no personal stake in Tucson, it was easier for me to size up the situation and ponder the question that too few of the city’s residents seem to be asking: Is this community truly sustainable?

Tucsonans could not possibly, in their current numbers, live off the land. The environment itself is capable of sustaining only a very few human beings. The community ultimately and absolutely depends upon imported power and commodities and, most crucially, the wholesale extraction of what in the Southwest is essentially a nonrenewable resource: fresh water. Like that of its southwestern counterparts, Tucson’s success has been achieved not by embracing but by defiantly opposing the harsh laws of the local ecosystem. For this community to remain viable, it must receive huge daily transfusions of lifeblood from elsewhere. This explains how it has managed to grow to such staggering proportions and to create an immense oasis of comfort and prosperity in the bleakest of environments.

These facts receive only occasional and cursory mention in the local media, and generally they are rebutted by politicians, entrepreneurs, and journalists extolling the desirability—nay, the necessity—of further growth (the lead editorial in the November 14, 2005, edition of the Arizona Daily Star cordially invited Californians fleeing that state and its high home prices to relocate in affordable southern Arizona). Nevertheless, I have the impression that people in Tucson do sense the precariousness of their situation and realize how little it would take for the prickly pear and saguaro to reclaim their ancient dominion. But as long as faucets are flowing and the air conditioners are keeping the blazing desert sun at bay, it remains possible to bracket such fears and go blithely about one’s daily business, and even invite more business.


A Day of Reckoning?

Who can say when the systems of artificial life-support upon which Tucson and a half-dozen other overzealous and overbuilt southwestern communities depend will begin to fail? I am certainly 4no authority on such matters, but simple common sense tells me that the day of reckoning is not too distant. The populations have grown too large and are far too profligate for the status quo to be maintained, much less improved upon.

Nor are the peoples of arid Arizona the only ones who need to ask this question. Florida has become an environmental basket case. In few places has growth occurred so rapidly and in such haphazard fashion. According to the Environmental Defense Fund, of 3,400 applications for a permit to destroy a Florida wetland submitted in 2003, the Corps of Engineers denied only one. A developer’s paradise, Florida has sacrificed so much of its natural heritage and become so crowded and congested that someone like me, who came of age on its southwest coast just three decades ago, barely recognizes his old haunts. Ironically, further development may soon be stymied in Florida and throughout the drought-stricken Southeast by a dearth of fresh water.


Problems in the Heartland

Unfortunately, it is by no means necessary to travel to Cactus Country or to the Sunshine State to appreciate the scope and depth of this problem. My family’s home for the past twenty years has been Madison, Wisconsin—a relatively small, stable, and compact city by comparison with sprawling Tucson or Orlando. Nevertheless, the Greater Madison area has grown significantly during my time here, with land-hungry suburbs and exurbs gobbling up prime farmland and air quality advisories becoming increasingly common on sultry summer days. Frankly, I never thought I’d see the day when Madison residents would be urged to curtail outdoor exercise because of high ozone readings.

Equally unsettling has been the deterioration of the local watershed. Historically, Madison has been known and frequently lauded as the “City of the Lakes.” Even today, it isn’t uncommon for an angler to hook a good-sized game fish within sight of the gleaming State Capitol. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. Groundwater is being pumped so aggressively that aquifers beneath the city are falling rapidly, which has led surface streams in the area to dry up, caused wells to fail, and compromised the quality of lakes 5already degraded by nonpoint source pollution. By comparison with most other states, Wisconsin is considered “water rich,” but both Madison and Waukesha County to the east now anticipate future water shortages and are scrambling to develop contingency plans. One has to wonder whether Greater Madison, a community less than half the size of Tucson, adjacent to several large bodies of water, and situated in the nation’s breadbasket, is itself sustainable. The answer is no if current practices remain unaltered. (Note: The federal government projects that at least thirty-six states will face water shortages of varying severity before 2012.)2


Sustainability: A Concept Whose Time Has Come

It has become increasingly clear that the wholesale development of sprawling, resource-hungry urban complexes is both ecologically unsound and socially problematic. Even the sanguine Thomas Friedman of The New York Times has come to realize that the future depends on humanity’s willingness and ability to husband the planet’s resources. Depletion of natural capital is an “enormously powerful threat,” Friedman writes in his book The World Is Flat. “Be afraid. I certainly am.”3

However, I am convinced that this well-documented trend represents but one thread in a broader pattern of unhealthy, shortsighted human behavior. Although this book contains numerous environmental allusions and analogies, the overarching purpose of these chapters is to deepen and broaden our understanding of sustainability in terms of our attitudes, values, and decision making and to demonstrate the relevance of sustainability in resolving personal as well as planetary problems. The basic premise is that substantial improvement in the quality of our lives and livelihoods would be possible if we better understand this fundamental principle and a short list of reinforcing behaviors.


Expanded Applications

Until fairly recently, discussions of sustainability remained largely within the province of certain professions. Ecologists and conservationists 6 have focused on sustainable farming methods and the wise use of natural resources. Architects and engineers have worked to develop protocols for constructing “green” buildings. Concern over persistent poverty in developing nations has led to innovative proposals for the “sustainable development” of stagnant economies— a movement inspired by E. F Schumacher’s now-classic work, Small Is Beautiful. Interest in sustainability gradually has spread, moving beyond professional and academic circles into the general population. The term has entered the popular lexicon, and increasing numbers of people now have at least a rudimentary notion of its meaning and significance.

Even so, sustainability today remains a somewhat marginal and, in some quarters, even a subversive idea. Despite growing mainstream acceptance, it is cynically dismissed by some as a manifestation of political correctness or environmental faddism—an impediment to economic growth and a barrier to the optimal performance of the free market.

For example, in a recent opinion piece by Bill Berry, Milwaukeean Patrick McIlheren offered this caustic definition of sustainable: “Doing things in a wildly expensive, pointlessly ineffective way for political reasons. Implies an extra $5 a pound.”4

For some, sustainability may appear more threatening than promising, which is why sustainable products (e.g., green buildings, natural foods, recycled products) still represent a relatively small share of the total market and are, in some cases, prohibitively expensive. Although experts generally agree that prevailing production methods and consumption patterns are untenable, as a culture we are still a long way from hitting the tipping point where conventional thinking about development and the economy gives way and people everywhere begin routinely to factor sustainable principles into their thinking and planning.

A case in point: Until the 2008 Summer Olympic Games caused the world to give the booming Chinese economy a second, closer look, that country received near-constant commendation for its accomplishments from Western economists. It is now becoming apparent that China’s rapid and unprecedented industrial expansion has been purchased at a staggering cost to the environment and to 7the health of its own citizens. Regrettably, sustainable development remains the exception rather than the rule for many of the most “robust” economies of the developing world.


Common Assumptions and Uncommon Associations

Sustainability arose during the environmental movement and has remained closely identified with it. The term is most often used to describe a resource utilization strategy that preserves or even replenishes the earth’s natural capital. Care must be taken to keep the ledger in balance, which means planning for renewal and restoration, as well as expropriation and extraction. Sound practices such as reuse, recycling, and the tapping of renewable, nonpolluting sources of energy like the sun, wind, biomass, and geothermal are frequently mentioned components of environmental sustainability. These and similar measures are meant to keep human civilization and the biotic systems that support it viable far into the future.

Because of its frequent invocation by environmentalists, some, like Milwaukee’s columnist Patrick McIlheren, associate sustainability with liberal thinking and politics. At a practical level, though, the idea tilts in a decidedly conservative direction. Among primary synonyms of sustain found in Webster’s are these: “to maintain,” “to prolong,” “to preserve,” “to protect or keep safe.” There’s nothing particularly “liberal” about any of those terms, and no less a figure than Russell Kirk—founder of The National Review and patron saint of modern American conservatism—identified “social continuity” as one of the conservative movement’s core objectives.5 A conservative, in other words, has an obligation to protect those assets that ensure the long-term health and dynamism of a culture or community.

Moreover, one of sustainability’s earliest champions—the noted conservationist Aldo Leopol—tried hard to convince parties across the political spectrum of the concept’s merits. Leopold’s supporters included many prominent Republicans, and his own attitude toward the “liberal” conservation policies of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal was ambivalent at best (he distrusted government-mandated 8programs because they did little to create the broad cultural consensus he believed was necessary for a conservation ethic to take hold). Leopold’s was truly a nonpartisan position, and his goal was to build a case for environmental stewardship that both Democrats and Republicans could embrace. As his biographer Curt Meine observes:

Conservation, in Leopold’s view, was not bound to any particular philosophy. From his earliest days as a forester, he was (simply) concerned with keeping ends and means balanced.6


Becoming Restorative

As a result of Aldo Leopold’s work, recent decades have witnessed growing sophistication in the field of restoration biology. In keeping with the first principle of Leopold’s “Land Ethic”—a thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community—the intent of environmental restoration work is to reverse the deterioration of so many of the planet’s critical life-supporting systems and thus make the land and water healthy and productive again.7 Here modern technical knowledge is being used literally to turn back the clock.

Writer and entrepreneur Paul Hawken also uses the term restoration to describe a new way of doing business. “The Golden Rule of a restorative economy,” Hawken writes, “is to leave the world better than you found it; take no more than you need; try not to harm life or the environment; make amends if you do.”8

By extension, one can easily see how this same “restorative” idea might be usefully enlisted to resolve some of the serious social and familial problems that have arisen in recent decades. The stresses that the typical modern nuclear family faces have clearly been exacerbated by the sundering of the generations in the late twentieth century. But what if grandparents were encouraged and given incentives to live with or near their adult children and growing grandchildren? How much more livable would our major cities be if greater efforts were made to restore old, pedestrian-friendly neighborhoods so that people would be less prone to settle in anonymous, automobile-dependent suburbs? Cities ought to be attractive for the quality of life they afford, not just because rising 9gasoline costs give them an economic advantage. The shift away from extended families and livable cities has largely taken place within my own lifetime, but there is no reason it cannot be reversed. In fact, in certain quarters that’s already happening.

The principle of sustainability is truly conservative, then, in that it seeks to protect and preserve those key elements that keep a system healthy and in balance. But that could suggest a steady state in which any new or novel elements are unwelcome. Clearly, insulating a system from outside influences that might produce change isn’t always, if ever, advisable. If the “good life” is our goal, something more must be added to our definition of sustainability.


To Support and to Nourish

We have considered one possible meaning of the term sustainable: to preserve, protect, and keep safe. But for our purposes, one of the secondary definitions is more appropriate. To sustain, Webster’s dictionary continues, means “to nourish or support.” Support is a more far-reaching term than preserve and is more in keeping with the fact that it is in the nature of people, social systems, and ecologies to grow, adapt, and evolve. Change is inevitable, and correctly understood, the principle of sustainability accommodates change and invites the human imagination to participate in and intelligently contribute to the overall process.

A sustainable ecology, economy, community, or family system isn’t cast in concrete. Balance, not stasis, is the true objective, as Aldo Leopold reminds us. Carefully considered and cautiously implemented change is, he believed, perfectly consistent with sound conservation principles. It’s important that we understand sustainability as a dynamic principle. The ultimate objective is to improve life, but with the accompanying awareness that not every change represents an improvement. To disrupt, destroy, or substantially alter anything that retains significant practical or aesthetic value subverts sustainability’s intent.

A case in point: In some parts of the world the notion of “sustainable tourism” has lately come into vogue. Its purpose is to ensure that the unique characteristics of perennially popular destinations—the coral reefs of the Caribbean, the wildlife of the 10Galapagos, the waterfronts of Charleston and Savannah, the lighthouses and orchards of Wisconsin’s Door County, and the architecture of Victoria, British Columbia—are made a community priority and maintained in their integrity. Too often, tourist hot spots allow their most notable features to deteriorate or are overrun by the kind of cookie-cutter dining, shopping, and entertainment venues that can be found in Everytown, U.S.A. “Sustainable tourism,” Myles Dannhausen writes,

Is based on the idea of pinpointing the difference between simply attracting visitors at all costs and attracting visitors who won’t cost you who you are….To get there you need to do an inventory of the cultural, natural and human assets that set you apart.9

What sustainability eschews, then, are those quick fixes (economic or otherwise) whose long-term consequences have been insufficiently anticipated and for which contingency plans have not been made. It is a principle that challenges the juggernaut of rapid, unreflective growth and development that now poses a bona fide threat to the well-being of the planet and most of its people. It seeks to control the pace at which civilization barrels ahead, refusing to enter into devil’s bargains that make the “bottom line” look better at the expense of justice, beauty, and equity.

The intelligent practice of sustainable principles attempts to take the past, present, and future equally into consideration. It is not about clinging stubbornly to an unsatisfactory status quo, but it also refuses to accept the undiscerning assumption that “new is always improved.” In fact, a sustainable solution may involve a return to the status quo ante to restore health and balance to a system.

The Joie de Vivre chain of boutique hotels in California affords a fine example. Founded by Chip Conley in 1987, the company generates several hundred million dollars of revenue a year. Conley offers his guests the kind of old-fashioned, individually tailored service that other hotel chains dispensed with years ago. As a result, JdV generates more return business than its rivals and has fared better during tough economic times. Its traditional orientation has helped Conley’s enterprises prosper in the present. 11

But this perceptive entrepreneur also has an eye to the future. The average hotel experiences a sixty percent turnover of personnel every year. As a result, extra resources must be devoted to training, and employees never develop sufficient loyalty to do their best work. JdV’s turnover rate is just twenty-five percent because management works hard to ensure that everyone on staff—even those who spend their days scrubbing down toilets and shower stalls—feels appreciated, challenged, and valued as part of a meaningful community effort. Conley runs a sustainable operation that “invests in long-term growth based on a strategy of integrity and creativity that aligns with the interests of all stakeholders.”10


Reassessing Our Priorities

By now it is becoming clear that sustainability offers a useful handle for reorienting our thinking and adjusting our behavior in just about every significant area of human endeavor. It is, in fact, one of those guiding principles that thoughtful people ought to take into account in making any important lifestyle, relational, or ethical choice. When we set goals, establish objectives, or contemplate a new course of action, we would be wise to consider not only the profitability or practical utility of those measures, but also their sustainability. In a world dominated by short-term strategic planning, we need to develop coherent strategies for anticipating adverse reactions and making sure that what we do ensures long-term viability.

It has become something of a cliché to criticize ours as a culture of immediate gratification and momentary impulse, but that doesn’t belie the basic accuracy of the complaint. The fact is, even most grocery store purchases are spur-of-the-moment rather than planned. Whether we are choosing a breakfast cereal, a profession, or an intimate partner, a community, a spiritual practice, or a fitness regimen, whether we are investing in a retirement plan or volunteering our services, the horizons of our thinking remain in the near distance. We shake our heads in dismay over the lack of cohesion in our neighborhoods, the fragility of our relationships, the poor condition of our bodies, and the despondency of our spirits; 12yet we don’t do what’s required to create a healthier and more stable lifestyle.

Among the many books and articles I’ve consulted and the numerous conversations I’ve had on matters of healthy, happy, and virtuous living, the principle of sustainability has received scant attention. Why are we so oblivious to a concept that would seem absolutely central to our long-term best interests? Is the idea so simple and self-evident that most people take for granted that cities will persist, careers continue, and marriages last “until death do us part”? But the fact that sustainability has been an uncommon rather than a common occurrence in recorded history would seem to indicate that, self-evident or not, it has seldom attracted much of a following. So perhaps a clearer explication of the idea and a few suggestions for useful application will help move us in the right direction.


Sustainability: A Means, Not an End

To begin with, sustainability must be understood as an instrumental rather than a terminal value; that is to say, it is a means and not an end. We embrace sustainable principles and adopt sustainable practices because they help produce something else that we deem important. Compassion, justice, peace, beauty, and happiness are generally regarded as ends in themselves whose individual or collective realization defines a good life. Sustainability belongs in another category, for it always invites the further question: sustainable for what?

Geof Syphers works as a sustainability officer for Codding Enterprises, a development firm in Northern California that specializes in environmentally responsible design, and he understands this perfectly. The goal of Sonoma Mountain Village, one of Codding’s more notable projects, was to create the conditions for residents to enjoy a healthy, environmentally sound lifestyle. “Sustainability isn’t a goal,” Syphers insists. “It is a process.”11

Today’s world does not suffer from a dearth of sound, terminal values. Human beings still yearn for beauty, happiness, intimacy, and an honorable legacy, just as our forebears did. However, 13deeper wisdom and more deliberate effort are needed if we are to gain and maintain the ends we seek.


The Futility of the Hungry Ghost

Buddhist teachings describe perpetually dissatisfied, grasping, overanxious people as “hungry ghosts.” As much as they long for happiness and the experience of true contentment, these sad individuals are unenlightened about how an abiding sense of well-being might be secured. Moreover, they haven’t acquired the tools or the self-discipline to tap into these wellsprings of nourishment. The “hungry ghost” subsists, therefore, on the deceptively thin fare its culture provides—easily appropriated pleasures that dull the cravings but do not satisfy them. The habit of happiness, beauty that is more than skin-deep, and trustworthy relationships all lie beyond the ghost’s reach and are usually beyond its ken.

In the Chinese language, the two words pin and tan look very similar on the printed page. The first means “greed,” and the other stands for “poverty.” This, in a nutshell, is the dilemma of the hungry ghost: greedy for experiences and possessions to fill its emptiness; yet for all the effort the ghost expends, it still feels impoverished. The hungry ghost may compensate for its emptiness through the compulsive quest for pleasure and prestige, but it is unlikely to find in such pursuits any antidote for its chronic discontent. This Buddhist metaphor is compelling; it graphically describes a condition that afflicts many Americans.

The promising road maps offered by our hard-won consumerist culture have too often led us down blind alleys and into cul-de-sacs. Novelty, excitement, sensory stimulation, and satiation are supplied in abundance, but in terms of what human beings truly want and need, the systems we have devised have proved less than salutary. For example, at one time a house was truly a domicile, a place of familial interaction and neighborly connection. But in recent years many people have been persuaded to treat houses as investments, places to be occupied only until they can be “flipped” for a healthy profit (though the bursting of the housing bubble has caused most people to reconsider this strategy). Such behavior may or may not make sound economic sense, but it 14undermines all attempts to establish a sustainable community life. Too many of us have lost our connection to a sustainable life path that leads to treasures of perennial value: a beautiful and healthy earth home, human communities where all are well served and feel secure, work that makes a genuine contribution to the common good, play that restores one’s body and lifts one’s spirits, to mention only a few estimable goals. “To live lightly on the earth with simple, joyful elegance” is how one writer characterized the overarching purpose of sustainability.12


Timeless Elements of the Good Life

From a historical standpoint, our contemporary, consumer-oriented culture’s conception of the good life is probably the exception rather than the rule. As cultural geographer Yi Fu Tuan’s studies indicate, physical comfort “is without doubt a component of the good life,” but by itself is hardly sufficient. Moreover, only a modicum of comfort is required for human beings to experience a sense of physical well-being. Yi Fu Tuan cites the example of a traditional Mongolian family, the day’s chores accomplished, enjoying the evening meal together in the snug confines of their yurt. They play music, sing, tell stories, and are grateful for protection from the outside elements. By contrast, many of the royal and very rich have learned to their dismay that “comfort and splendor are incompatible.”13

Cultural conceptions of the good life do vary, but certain features remain fairly consistent. Robust good health and vitality—even physical exuberance—are an unalloyed blessing. Intimacy—physical, emotional, or intellectual—makes a big difference. Remember the last time you had a deep and meaningful conversation with someone and how satisfying that felt? “A meeting of minds can be as … intoxicating as a meeting of bodies,” Yi Fu Tuan writes.14 Rendering service, enhancing the well-being of others, also contributes to our sense of life’s goodness. In this respect, self-aggrandizing behavior may actually prove counterproductive, compromising rather than complementing our happiness. Yi Fu Tuan quotes a repairman who contrasts the experience of fixing a television for a house full of appreciative children with other jobs where fee-for-service is his only 15reward. “Knowing that I made a family happy” magnified the repairman’s sense of accomplishment.15

Yi Fu Tuan also mentions “having a home base”—an attachment not just to people but to place—as something most humans associate with the good life. Even nomadic peoples and wanderers acquire a deep knowledge of the wider regions through which they move, and thus they feel closely connected to their environment. Engaging in productive labor that serves a valid purpose can be deeply satisfying—particularly when performed in the company of others who are also invested in the enterprise.16 These and other aspects of “good living” will be treated in greater detail in the pages that follow.

Certainly not all human aspirations and endeavors are worth sustaining. Those who created and successfully maintained a brutal culture of apartheid in South Africa may well have found the concept useful. Likewise, the Fascist tyrants who boasted of establishing a “thousand-year Reich.”

As an instrumental value, sustainability can certainly be applied to any number of projects, not all of them lif

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: Berrett-Koehler Publishers
• Date d'édition: 2009
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 1576755703
• ISBN 13: 9781576755709
• Reliure: Broché
• Nombre de pages: 248
• Coordonnées du fabricant: non disponible
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