Former Austrian Chancellor Sebastian Kurz's "Stone Age slogan" is still ringing in our ears. And it shows what drives people who are afraid of TOO MUCH sustainability. Their main concern is the loss of material values and prosperity.
The fact is that we cannot and do not want to go back to the Stone Age. But we could learn something useful from our early history. Because not everything that is simple is bad. We've put together some revival-worthy facets of the Stone Age for you.
1. living without waste
In international design circles, it is often said accusingly: "Waste is a design flaw". Stone Age design definitely did not have this flaw. Our ancestors were - albeit involuntarily - zero-waste heroes. The Venus of Willendorf was of course not wrapped in a stylishly foamed plastic bundle, at most a small piece of leather. Jewelry and tools were only available unpackaged.
Today, almost all products bear this "flaw in design". Especially the products we use every day. Once cooked, the bin is full again.
Whereas the life of a Stone Age man was entirely compostable, whether it was clothing, food containers, tools etc. or the "interior" of the dwellings. And even large feasts left no lasting traces (... bones don't count here). Due to a lack of alternatives, cooking was highly regional, organic and usually completely without transportation.
Back to our design mistake today: as 'quota emperors', we recycle 1/3 of the plastic waste mountain in Austria. The remaining 2/3 can still be admired in 500 years as long-lasting artifacts of our 'error culture' in landfills. If they are not "thermally disposed of" in the waste incineration plant and thus shifted spatially into the atmosphere as a problem. The EU wants to put a stop to this 'mistake': and at least half of the mountain must be recycled by 2025.
2. the principle of proximity
In the Stone Age, everything that was really important for life had to be available somewhere nearby. Only very few goods (such as flint blanks or salt) even had a supply chain back then. Ötzi - not only a celebrity ice corpse, but also an early transporter of special goods- can tell you a thing or two about the dangers that these early supply chains entailed.
So the closer, the better. The benefits of the proximity principle have been rudely slapped around our ears time and again, and not just since the start of the pandemic. We now know that it is neither crisis-proof nor far-sighted to only manufacture medicines/clothing/IT in distant countries. And the chip crisis puts another finger in the wound of the great dependency.
Given our current needs, it is of course difficult to completely free ourselves from global dependencies. In some areas, however, it would be easier than expected, for example when it comes to food. Today, it's not witchcraft to eat a varied, enjoyable and healthy , authentic regional diet. Even modern "caves" do not need unnecessarily long transportation routes. There is no shortage of regional building materials (clay, straw, wood) or sophisticated construction techniques. In Switzerland, research into CO2-storing recycled concrete is also in full swing.
The mayor of Paris has caused a stir in terms of "proximity" when she presented the "15-minute city" as a new goal. In future, everything you need in everyday life (food, stores, schools, offices, doctors, local recreation, cinema, theater, etc.) must be reachable within 15 minutes. There are no plans to cheat by car (after all, Paris is to become car-free...): it's all about 15 minutes on foot, by bike or public transport.
So the good news is: proximity is not a problem for survival necessities (such as food or a roof over your head etc.). The bad news: who can live without a cell phone? Smartphones, tablets, plasma screens etc. are and will unfortunately remain part of long supply chains.
3. live in the moment
Our ancestors definitely lived in the moment. If a favorable (hunting) opportunity presented itself, it had to be seized on the day. Spontaneity was everything. Distractions for mental diversion, on the other hand, were few and far between. And there was no way to postpone one's life into the future. Making it through the winter was the boldest medium-term goal of life logistics. All you could pay into the future were social relationships and group ties. They were miles away from any kind of "for-later" frills, such as savings accounts or retirement provisions.
Today we live at the other extreme. Permanently distracted, our worries revolve around securing, hoarding and accumulating for a future that may never come in this form. But if it did, it would usually be more than fully financed. Touching interviews with dying people bring to light one motive for "regret" in particular: what would they definitely do differently? No longer save so much. In his book "Die with zero", Bill Perkins shows why we are putting too much on the high side today. And finds numerous examples of the joy of life we miss out on at a young age as a result.
Let's stop talking about renunciation
The back-to-the-stone-age debate is a wonderful example of how the future can be prevented or delayed by painting a black-and-white picture. Bursting with prosperity, we allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by the feeling of possible shortages.
To end this fear dynamic and approach change more constructively, we could practise imagining what appears on the other side of the balance sheet: the black figures of our future balance sheet. What there is to gain in a sustainable world.
With dedication to the top
However, this does not mean even better buffered savings accounts or the abundance of abundance. It's about real benefits for humanity: like priceless clean air. Or rivers and lakes where you can swim anywhere. Another main gain: healthy, nutritious food that bees, bumblebees and butterflies also enjoy. Or a soundscape where birds chirp louder than the traffic.
But also a new kind of connectedness that can arise when we break through hamster wheels and create more space and time for social issues. And on top of that, there is the feeling that we are not leaving our descendants a depleted scrap planet, but a living earth.
