We should think about development beyond economic growth

In 1972, the Club of Rome – an informal organisation of thinkers, business leaders and intellectuals – published its first report, The Limits to Growth. Established in 1968, the Club's goal is to engage critically with pressing global issues by connecting knowledge and action to catalyse systemic change and ensure a healthy planet.

Although the Club has been active in organising intellectual contributions and publishing reports as well as policy briefs, this particular report from 1972 is considered its most impactful work to date. The report predicted that if the existing free-market economic model and ongoing industrial activity were to persist, they would result in unprecedented global socio-economic and environmental collapse.

Simply put, the report stated that there is a limit to economic growth. Imagining and planning for infinite economic growth in a world with finite resources is not only unrealistic but also catastrophic. In its earlier years, the Club enjoyed some influence within the inner circles of OECD member countries. 

The OECD paid attention to the Club's ideas concerning growth and how it should be navigated with the broader contexts of society and the environment in mind. However, the OECD soon abandoned the Club's vision and continued with its policies of unfettered economic growth.

Today, unrestricted growth is the norm. It is difficult to think of a government or state that does not talk about economic growth. In fact, that is often all they talk about. "The economy must grow" is the motto of business leaders and heads of government alike, regardless of their political ideology. 

We are persistently bombarded with the idea of exponential economic growth, yet we rarely hear about where this growth ends. Something that grows must surely stop growing at some point, must it not? Apparently, however, the economy does not have to stop growing. This ideology, often compared to the characteristics of a cancer cell, has far-reaching consequences.

The universal trend in development is to think in numbers. Progress is measured numerically. The bigger the GDP, the higher the income, GDP or GNI per capita, the larger the profit margin, the greater the exports and imports, the better everything is assumed to be. Yet one does not need to look far to realise that this is not necessarily the case. Increasing numbers do not automatically mean a better life for people, nor do they guarantee sustainable practices that protect the environment.

There is another, darker side to rising GDP or national income that is often hidden from the public. An increase in GDP or GDP per capita does not mean that everyone benefits from the growing wealth. This is one of the problems with quantitative measurements of growth.

When growth is measured solely by the expansion of wealth, the distribution of that wealth is rarely taken into consideration. A country's GDP may grow, but that wealth may become concentrated in the hands of a very small proportion of the population.

Cutting down trees to sell timber, filling in water bodies to market land as real estate, or constructing apartment buildings on such land to sell more flats will undoubtedly increase wealth, income and GDP. However, such activities do not account for environmental impact. In this way, the quantitative approach to development becomes socially exploitative and produces devastating ecological consequences.

Another major issue surrounding mainstream development is gigantism. "Bigger is better" has been the motto of many infrastructural development projects throughout capitalist and imperial history. Megaprojects have often been more about making a statement than fulfilling the promises made in their name.

It is widely acknowledged that more than 90% of megaprojects experience cost overruns; they are rarely delivered on time and often fail to provide the promised benefits. But who are these projects designed for? Whom do they truly benefit? And who is excluded from the process? 

Once again, the focus is fixed on numbers. Megaprojects are justified through calculations and projections that are largely incomprehensible to the public, yet it is the public who are most affected.

The obsession with numbers centres on profit margins and increasing wealth. However, the benefits of rising profits, income and wealth are enjoyed by a select few. A capitalist society that prioritises profit and business above all else will sacrifice people's welfare if doing so increases returns for shareholders.

The fixation on ever-increasing profit and a perpetually expanding economy also carries an environmental cost. Large bridges and extensive highways are built to facilitate business; areas are urbanised and industrialised with little thought; and vast tracts of forest are converted into farmland, all in the name of increasing production. 

Yet in this model of production, human and social needs are not prioritised. Instead, the focus is on marketable goods and services that increase profits for owners, shareholders and senior management, without altering the conditions of marginalised communities.

Despite all this, we continue to witness a growing number of megaprojects, often with little regard for their human or environmental costs. Such approaches to development, driven by unrestrained economic growth, extend far beyond a simple top-down model in which leaders and authorities control people's lives. 

These growth-oriented tactics are deeply ingrained in public consciousness. Free-market ideology has embedded itself so deeply in our culture and everyday lives that it can seem almost heretical to advocate strategies that deprioritise economic growth.

Yet this is precisely what degrowth scholars and activists propose. Degrowth refers to a socio-economic theory and strategy that seeks to systematically, gradually and consciously reduce levels of production and consumption in certain sectors. Degrowth challenges conventional development discourses that treat exponential economic growth as the sole path to flourishing and well-being. It suggests that, through careful reflection and reassessment of our socio-economic structures, we can build a society that is just, equitable and environmentally sustainable.

Supporters of degrowth argue that the root cause of many of the world's ecological crises lies in excessive production driven by the overexploitation of nature and a consumerist culture that prioritises constant consumption over quality and sufficiency. This may benefit businesses in the short term, but the long-term outlook is bleak.

Degrowth ideas are particularly relevant to wealthier consumer societies in the Global North, where relatively small populations consume many times more than those in more populous, poorer countries. However, that does not mean others cannot draw lessons from these ideas. For decades, we have followed the conventional model. 

The results include widening inequality, inadequate social welfare and security, and a growing number of ultra-wealthy individuals, while millions continue to face food insecurity and lack access to education and healthcare.

Our daydreams of infinite economic growth, combined with the steady depletion of finite natural resources, are leading us towards escalating environmental disasters and persistent pollution throughout the year. Perhaps what we are doing is unwise. Perhaps we are not on the right path. Perhaps we are jeopardising our future. And perhaps it is time to re-evaluate how we think about development and economic growth.

Aananda Antahleen is a writer, researcher, and lecturer at the School of General Education at Brac University.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.