The “Stone Age remark” by former Austrian Chancellor Sebastian Kurz still rings in our ears. And it highlights what drives people who fear TOO MUCH sustainability. Their main concern is the loss of material wealth and prosperity.
The fact is: We can’t—and don’t want to—go back to the Stone Age. But we could learn some valuable lessons from our early history. After all, not everything that’s simple is bad. We’ve put together a few aspects of the Stone Age that are worth reviving.
In international design circles, people often mutter accusingly: “Waste is a design flaw.” Stone Age design certainly didn’t have this flaw. Our ancestors were—albeit unwittingly—zero-waste heroes. The Venus of Willendorf was, of course, not wrapped in any stylish foam-padded plastic packaging, at most a small piece of leather. Jewelry and tools were available exclusively unpackaged.
These days, almost all products have this “design flaw”—especially the everyday items we use. As soon as you’re done cooking, the trash can is full again.
Whereas the life of a Stone Age person was entirely compostable—whether it was clothing, food containers, tools, etc., or the “interior” of their dwellings. And even large feasts left no lasting traces (… bones don’t count here). For lack of alternatives, people cooked with highly local, organic ingredients and, for the most part, without any need for transportation.
Back to today’s design flaw: as the “recycling champions,” we in Austria recycle one-third of the mountain of plastic waste. The remaining two-thirds will still be sitting in landfills in 500 years, serving as enduring artifacts of our “culture of mistakes.” Unless, that is, they are “thermally disposed of” in waste-to-energy plants, thereby shifting the problem spatially into the atmosphere. The EU wants to put a stop to this “mistake”: at least half of the mountain must enter recycling loops by 2025.
Everything that was truly essential for life had to be available somewhere nearby during the Stone Age. Only a very few goods (such as flint blanks or salt) had any kind of supply chain back then. Ötzi—not only a famous ice mummy but also a former transporter of specialty goods—can tell you a thing or two about the dangers these early supply chains entailed.
So, the closer, the better. The benefits of the principle of proximity have been driven home to us time and again—and not just since the start of the pandemic. We now know that relying solely on distant foreign countries to manufacture medicines, clothing, and IT equipment is neither crisis-proof nor far-sighted. And the chip crisis is rubbing salt into the wound of our heavy dependence.
Given our modern needs, it is certainly difficult to completely free ourselves from global dependencies. In some areas, however, it would be easier than we think—for example, when it comes to food. Today, it’s no big deal to eat a varied, enjoyable, and healthy diet that’s authentically regional. Even modern “caves” don’t require unnecessarily long transport routes. The challenge lies neither in the availability of regional building materials (clay, straw, wood) nor in the lack of sophisticated construction techniques. In Switzerland, research into CO2-storing recycled concrete is also in full swing.
The mayor of Paris caused a stir with her concept of “proximity” when she presented the“15-minute city”as a new goal. Everything one needs in everyday life (groceries, shops, schools, offices, doctors, local recreation, movie theaters, theaters, etc.) must be reachable within 15 minutes in the future. Cheating by car is not an option (after all, Paris is supposed to become car-free… ): it’s about 15 minutes on foot, by bike, or by public transit.
So the good news is: when it comes to basic necessities (like food or a roof over your head, etc.), proximity isn’t an issue. The bad news: who can really live without a cell phone? Smartphones, tablets, plasma screens, and the like are, unfortunately, still part of long supply chains.
Our ancestors definitely lived in the moment. If a good (hunting) opportunity presented itself, it had to be seized right then and there. Spontaneity was everything. Distractions for mental diversion, on the other hand, were few and far between. And there was no way to put one’s life on hold for the future. Getting through the winter safely was the boldest medium-term goal in their life planning. All one could invest in the future were social relationships and a sense of belonging to the group. One was miles away from any “for-later” frills, such as savings accounts or retirement plans.
Today, we live at the other extreme. Constantly distracted, our worries revolve around securing, hoarding, and accumulating for a future that may never come to pass in that form. But if it did, we’d usually have more than enough saved up. Moving interviews with the dying reveal one theme above all else: “regret.” What would they definitely do differently? They wouldn’t save so much. In his book“Die with Zero,”Bill Perkins explains why we save too much today. And he finds numerous examples of what we miss out on in terms of joy in life as a result.
The "back-to-the-Stone-Age" debate is a wonderful example of how black-and-white thinking can prevent or delay progress. Bursting with prosperity, we allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by perceived potential shortages.
To break this cycle of fear and approach change in a more constructive way, we could practice 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.
But this doesn’t mean even better-protected savings accounts or an abundance of abundance. It’s about real benefits for humanity: like the priceless gift of clean air. Or rivers and lakes where you can swim anywhere. Another major benefit: healthy, nutritious food that bees, bumblebees, and butterflies also enjoy. Or a soundscape where birds chirp louder than the hum of traffic.
But it also offers a new kind of connection that can emerge when we break free from the rat race and make more time and space for social interactions. And as a bonus, there’s the satisfaction of knowing that we’re leaving our descendants not a depleted, ruined planet, but a vibrant Earth.