Sustaining Liberal Democracy: Ecological Challenges and Opportunities

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Sustaining Liberal Democracy

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Also by John Barry RETHINKING GREEN POLITICS: Nature, Virtue and Progress ENVIRONMENT AND SOCIAL THEORY CITIZENSHIP, SUSTAINABILITY AND ENVIRONMENTAL RESEARCH: Q Methodology and Local Exchange Trading Systems (with John Proops)

Also by Marcel Wissenburg CIVIL SOCIETY AND CIVIC POLITICS (editor) EUROPEAN DISCOURSES ON ENVIRONMENTAL POLICY (co-editor with Gökhan Orhan and Ute Collier) GREEN LIBERALISM: The Free and the Green Society IMPERFECTION AND IMPARTIALITY: A Liberal Theory of Social Justice

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Sustaining Liberal Democracy Ecological Challenges and Opportunities Edited by

John Barry Reader School of Politics The Queen’s University of Belfast Northern Ireland

and

Marcel Wissenburg Lecturer in Political Theory and Philosophy of Policy Sciences Nijmegen Centre for Business, Environment and Government University of Nijmegen The Netherlands

Foreword by Andrew Dobson

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Editorial matter, selection and Chapter 1 © John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg 2001 Foreword © Andrew Dobson 2001 Chapter 4 © John Barry 2001 Chapter 12 © Marcel Wissenburg 2001 Chapter 13 © John Barry, Marcel Wissenburg and Marius de Geus 2001 Chapters 2, 3, 5–11 © Palgrave Publishers Ltd 2001 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 0LP. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2001 by PALGRAVE Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE is the new global academic imprint of St. Martin’s Press LLC Scholarly and Reference Division and Palgrave Publishers Ltd (formerly Macmillan Press Ltd). ISBN 0–333–91981–5 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Sustaining liberal democracy : ecological challenges and opportunities / edited by John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg ; foreword by Andrew Dobson. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–333–91981–5 1. Political ecology. 2. Liberalism. 3. Sustainable development– –Political aspects. 4. Environmentalism—Political aspects. 5. Human ecology—Political aspects. I. Barry, John, 1966– II. Wissenburg, M. L. J. (Marcel L. J.) JA75.8 .S87 2000 320.51’3—dc21 00–066888 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 10 09 08 07 06 05 04 03 02 01 Printed in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham, Wiltshire

Contents Foreword by Andrew Dobson

vii

The Contributors

xi

1

Introduction John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg

Part I 2 3

5

6

Liberalism and Sustainability

Sustainability, Liberal Democracy, Liberalism Marius de Geus

19

Ecological Sustainability: a Private Case of Social Justice? Gayil Talshir

37

Part II 4

1

Reform and Change

Greening Liberal Democracy: Practice, Theory and Political Economy John Barry

59

Democracy and Sustainability: Aspects of Efficiency, Legitimacy and Integration Nicos Labaras

81

Democracy, Justice and Risk Society: the Meaning and Shape of Ecological Democracy Wouter Achterberg

101

Part III Rights 7 8

9

Constitutional Environmental Rights and Liberal Democracy Tim Hayward

117

Privatizing Genetic Resources: Biodiversity, Communities and Intellectual Property Rights Markku Oksanen

135

Sustainability, Global Warming, Population Policies and Liberal Democracy Robin Attfield

149

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Contents

Part IV 10 11 12 13

Duties

The Duties of Being and Association Mike Mills

163

Virtue, Sustainability and Liberal Values Ludvig Beckman

179

Sustainability and the Limits of Liberalism Marcel Wissenburg

192

Conclusion John Barry, Marcel Wissenburg and Marius de Geus

205

Bibliography

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Index

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Foreword Andrew Dobson

Ten years ago, Mark Sagoff asked whether environmentalists could be liberals (Sagoff, 1988, pp. 146–70). At the time, this seemed an odd question to ask – not because it lacked intrinsic interest, but because the politically important relationships seemed to be between environmentalism and socialism, or environmentalism and feminism, rather than between environmentalism and liberalism. Sagoff should now be congratulated for his foresight, however, because the increasing dominance of the liberal worldview in academic and political life makes it imperative that environmentalists (or the environmental agenda more broadly) are brought into contact with it. In recent years a number of people have explored the relationship between liberalism and environmentalism (Hayward, 1995; Eckersley, 1996; Wissenburg, 1998; Barry, 1999; Miller, 1999, for example), and in one way or another each of the chapters in this book deals with it too – in a manner that reveals both the tensions created and the opportunities presented by the possibility of a liberal environmentalism, or an environmentally sensitive liberalism. On the face of it, liberal and environmental impulses are as opposed as it is politically possible to be, with liberalism’s individualism, its endorsement of private acquisition, its support for limited government, its lauding of the market as an efficient and equitable distributor of resources, and its opposition to state support for definitive versions of ‘the good life’, all called into question by the environmentalist agenda. In the name of the overweaning value of autonomy, liberals will resist environmentalist attempts to alter individual tastes or preferences, and in the tradition of Kant and Locke they will insist on the kind of strict value demarcation between human beings and other animals that environmentalists have tried to undermine. But liberalism is tremendously elastic, and it has plenty of intellectual resources that can be deployed in an environment-friendly fashion. Liberal environmentalists will argue, for example, that while political institutions should indeed be neutral in respect of the good, citizens themselves are perfectly entitled to argue ethical preferences in the way environmentalists would like. Indeed, liberals may suggest that only in the tolerant liberal polity will environmentalists get the air-time they so crave. Similarly, while Kant and Locke are indeed part vii

viii Foreword

of the liberal heritage, so are Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill, and these latter two will answer the question ‘What faculty, X, must beings possess to be entitled to moral considerability?’ in a very different way to the former two – in a way, indeed, that will bring a smile to the faces of environmentalists. Perhaps most importantly, the liberal language of rights can be deployed for ends that will further gladden environmentalist hearts. The possibility of rights for animals is much discussed, for example, and there have been attempts to push rightstalk into ever more exotic areas of the non-human natural world. Even more significant, maybe, is the idea of rights for future generations, since this ties the environmental and liberal agendas tight together. This might not be immediately apparent, but once we realize that ‘the environment’ is one of the things we hand on to future generations, and if we accept that future generations have a right to a sustainable and satisfying environment, then future generation rights and environmental sustainability can be seen to be intimately linked. As Hayward astutely points out: ‘In talking about rights of future generations, one is already addressing matters of environmental concern’ (Hayward, 1994, p. 142). Perhaps, though, this is just the point at which liberalism and environmentalism come unstuck. In his path-breaking analysis of the relationship between the two, Marcel Wissenburg, one of the editors of the present book, writes that: We may also expect the introduction of the notion of limits to growth and resources, and with it that of sustainability, to lead to questions of a substantive normative nature. A sustainable society need not be one big Yellowstone Park – we can imagine a worldwide version of Holland stuffed with cows, grain and greenhouses, or even a global Manhattan without the Park to be as sustainable and for many among us as pleasant as the first. Hence a greener liberalism will have to define more clearly what kind of sustainability, what kind of world, it aims for. (Wissenburg, 1998, p. 81) I think Wissenburg is right about this, and if he is, then his ‘greener liberalism’ will be obliged to develop a moral conception of our relationship with the non-human natural world in the context of deciding what kind of world we want to hand on to future generations. On this account, environmental sustainability necessarily raises questions regarding the good life, and so liberalism’s endorsing of the objective of environmental sustainability commits it to a definitive moral conception

Foreword

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of ‘people’s appropriate relation to nature’ (in Sagoff’s words, 1988, p. 150). If this is a pill that liberalism cannot swallow – as I suspect it cannot – then this may be where liberalism and ecologism finally part company. Andrew Dobson School of Politics, International Relations and the Environment, Keele University, UK

The Contributors Wouter Achterberg is Senior Lecturer in Environmental Philosophy, Ethics and Political Philosophy at the University of Amsterdam, the Netherlands, and Professor in Humanistic Philosophy at Wageningen University, Wageningen, the Netherlands. Robin Attfield is Professor of Philosophy at Cardiff University, Wales. John Barry is Reader in the School of Politics, The Queen’s University of Belfast, Northern Ireland. Ludvig Beckman is a PhD student at the Department of Government, Uppsala University, Sweden. Marius de Geus is Lecturer in Political Theory and Legal Philosophy at the University of Leiden, the Netherlands. Tim Hayward is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Politics, University of Edinburgh, Scotland. Nicos Labaras is a PhD student in the Department of Politics, University of Edinburgh, Scotland. Mike Mills is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Politics and Modern History at London Guildhall University, London, England. Markku Oksanen is Research Fellow of the Academy of Finland, based at the Department of Philosophy of the University of Turku, Finland. Gayil Talshir is Lecturer in the Department of Politics at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel. Marcel Wissenburg is Lecturer in the School of Public Affairs and staff member of the Nijmegen Centre for Business, Environment and Government (NICE) at the University of Nijmegen, the Netherlands.

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1 Introduction1 John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg

For a long time, environmentally oriented political theorists assumed that ‘the’ ecological crisis required, even necessitated, a kind of green revolution. Saving the Earth meant, among other things, a reduction of the world’s population, reduced economic growth, a reduction of trade, transport and individual mobility, and new and very modest patterns of consumption. Most of all, it meant a changed attitude towards the environment, away from subjection, exploitation and use as mere means to human ends, to a recognition of or reverence for nature’s intrinsic value, and to a reunification of culture and nature. Our world would change from one of states, nations and liberal democracies into an open federation of small, socialist or anarchic communities, the borders of which would be defined by the borders of ecosystems. Meanwhile, back in the real world, politicians, experts and environmental pressure groups try to tackle global and local environmental problems while still operating within these ‘obsolete’ liberal democratic systems. One idea inspires them all: that of sustainability or sustainable development. The liberal democratic system is here and it will not go away; it is, moreover, in many respects, a desirable achievement in human evolution. Yet its way of dealing with ecological issues seems to leave much to be desired. The cooperation between parties is far from harmonious; policies are not always effective or radical enough, let alone on time. A recognition of the fact that liberal democracy is both here to stay and has intrinsic value (to use a term much used in environmental thought) is that the starting point for most of the contributions in this volume is an acceptance that ‘green politics’ is ‘post-’ as opposed to ‘anti-liberal’ in Robyn Eckersley’s terms (1992, p. 30). In addition, the terms sustainability and sustainable development are interpreted in countless different ways. Even the almost authoritative 1

2 John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg

Brundtland definition of sustainable development (meeting present needs without compromising the needs of future generations) is interpreted mostly in environmental terms in the North, and more in economic and developmental terms in the South. Nor is sustainability an uncontroversial objective: green critics have signalled that, on whatever version, it leaves little room for intrinsic value or even for an evaluation of nature in a language other than that of resources. The term sustainability is in itself also rather meaningless. All it says is that the existence of ‘something X’ (the Earth’s resources, the environment, nature, humankind or any mix of these) should be perpetuated. It is not a definite prescriptive concept, indicating exact goals or means, a best shape of society, how far into the future we should look, or a particular way of apportioning the benefits and burdens of sustainability. Thus, not only is it ‘essentially contested’, but also essentially vague and imprecise, which perhaps reveals that sustainability or sustainable development refers to a process rather than an end product or state. For some radical greens (Sachs, 1993), this impreciseness and ambiguity of sustainable development, especially post-Rio, has allowed the environmental agenda to be hijacked by corporate and anti-environmental interests. Thus, global corporations can, along with environmental NGOs, talk of sustainable development, giving the impression of being part of the same process of moving towards global sustainability. Others, such as Jacobs (1999), see this ambiguity as potentially radical. Its all too easy rhetorical acceptance by actors such as economic corporations can in fact lead to their ‘commitment’ to sustainable development being used to criticize their activities when they fail to live up to its emerging radical social, economic, political and ecological implications. As he puts it, ‘Sustainable development appears to have the remarkable capacity to articulate, nourish, propagate quite radical political ideas while appearing respectably “non-political”’ (1999, p. 30). Mainstream (read: traditional, non-green) political theorists and philosophers are only just beginning to recognize sustainability as a subject of debate. Most contributions to this debate originated in circles of environmentalists or from a dialogue between environmentalists and progressive thinkers (cf. the two volumes mentioned below). As a rule, they assumed a broad and general consensus on the normative aspects of sustainability and moved on to ask how modern society, particularly democracy and the institutions sustaining democracy, should be adapted to achieve this ideal. This book has a different focus: it asks whether liberal democracy, in particular in its liberal aspects, can tackle ‘the’ ecological crisis. Two questions can summarize the

Introduction 3

starting point of this issue. Can and in what ways can liberal democracy deal with the ecological crisis? Or, alternatively, how much ‘sustainability’ or ecological concern is compatible with liberal democracy? The texts collected here were originally presented in an ECPR Joint Sessions workshop on ‘the shape of liberal democratic sustainable societies’ (Warwick, March 1998, organized by one of the editors, Marcel Wissenburg). They pursue a course in green political thought set out in earlier workshops (The Politics of Nature, edited by A. Dobson and P. Lucardie (Routledge, 1993) and Democracy and Green Political Thought, edited by B. Doherty and M. de Geus (Routledge, 1996)). Their common denominator is the question whether sustainability can be (made) compatible with the theory and practice of liberalism, and a continuing effort to establish ‘green’ or ‘ecological’ issues, such as sustainability, as serious and important topics for contemporary political theory. What has been missing in the debate so far – two gaps which the present volume hopes to fill – are contributions that do not a priori assume consensus on the normative aspects of sustainability or even the desirability of consensus, and contributions from more traditional, mainstream liberal philosophical points of view. With Brian Barry as the one major exception, theorists inspired by leading philosophers like Rawls, Nozick, Nagel and Dworkin have been virtually silent on issues of sustainability. The papers brought together in this volume therefore (in a way) turn the main question around: they do not (only) ask how society should be adapted to sustainability but (also) how the concept of sustainability is to be interpreted in ways that respect these liberal democratic values and institutions. In more detail, they try to distinguish a series of conceptions of sustainability, to ascertain the fit between these separate conceptions and the most important liberal principles and liberal democratic institutions, and to determine if and where institutional changes might be needed after all. Answers will be sought in four directions, corresponding to the four parts of the book; each of these parts (with the exception of Part I) consists of three chapters focusing respectively on liberal theory, liberal institutions and the place of the individual in a liberal society: 1. whether liberalism is (or liberal theories are) in principle compatible with attention for nature and sustainability; 2. the degree to which liberalism or liberal democracy can be ‘reformed’ to meet green demands; 3. the place of rights (a central concept in liberalism: it is, after all, about protecting individual freedom, thus creating ‘liberties’ to

4 John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg

which the word ‘rights’ is applied in common usage) in promoting sustainability; 4. the place of duties in ‘sustainable’ liberalism: a common critique of liberalism sees it as focusing on rights and ignoring duties (as if the two are opposed); a more sophisticated critique says that sustainability is about side-constraints to human behaviour, therefore about prescribing rather than licensing. Moreover, several influential green theorists insist that greening the world requires a change of heart and of preferences, hence the development of an individual attitude recognizing duties towards nature and future generations. In the first part, Liberalism and Sustainability, it is recognized that liberalism itself cannot be taken as a constant factor. The options for a successful integration of types and criteria of sustainability differ between economic liberalism (the free market, capitalism), political liberalism (the institutions of liberal democracy) and philosophical liberalism (the political theory). Moreover, different types of philosophical liberalism inform economic and political liberalism in different ways. One of them is, of course, Lockean liberalism, with its stress on individual liberty and its links to libertarianism and free market conditions. Social liberalism on the other hand, in the tradition of Mill up to Rawls and Barry, allows for a wide range of arguments in support of a more principled view on, and integration of, conceptions of sustainability. Both traditions, however, offer room for arguments from within liberalism in favour of policies aimed at sustainability and for a broad set of different conceptions of sustainability. According to Marius de Geus, the Brundtland definition of sustainability as sustainable development changed the concept from a foundational and normative principle associated with a steady-state economy into a politically open, hence virtually meaningless, notion. Systemic factors in liberal democracies like political parties, re-election interests, institutionalized bargaining mechanisms and the interwovenness of state and economy result in a systematic lack of appreciation for ecological interests. The vagueness of the concept of sustainability of course adds to the confusion. In Dutch politics, for example, four interpretations of sustainability are defended: sustainability as a steady state, as ecological modernization, as stewardship and as stable economic growth. Each of these differ in the underlying assumptions, proposed strategies and ultimate goals. De Geus argues that it would be wise to move towards an unambiguous, robust and consistent definition of sustainability. As long as one is

Introduction 5

lacking, widespread non-commitment remains possible, the link between intra- and intergenerational justice is lost and environmental policies keep lacking credibility. However, the heritage of liberal democracy makes it less likely that liberal political theory can be compatible with a fundamental, ‘hard’ notion of sustainability. Part of this heritage is formed by Lockean elements like individualism, the legitimation of dominance over nature, the idea that nature is (nothing but) a rich and plentiful resource, the identification of happiness with consumption, and so on. De Geus then analyses Mill’s version of liberalism, to discover that Mill offers far more room for stronger interpretations of sustainability. He concludes that present-day liberal democracies are not very well equipped to defend ecological interests. As he says, if liberalism wants to take the environment seriously, it should rid itself of its Lockean inheritance and rediscover Mill. Gayil Talshir observes that ecological concerns and social demands are often clustered together as New Politics issues, the rise of which would be explained by postmaterial values. Ecological concerns, often characterized as aesthetic needs even though they concern the most existential needs of all, and social justice are, she claims, brought under the same heading without having any obvious substantive relation. For one, justice and ecology belong to different ontological realms: nature is by definition a non-social agent and therefore not a subject of the social injustices that are at the heart of the New Politics critique. The kind of state, society and individual that seems required if the demands of ecologists are taken seriously does not fit the framework in which issues of social justice are resolved, to wit liberal democracy. Finally, ecologists tend to commit the ‘is–ought’ fallacy by attempting to derive social values from ecological premises. Talshir then moves on to discuss philosophical, historical and structural explanations for the coemergence of ecological sustainability and social justice. She concludes that it is possible to understand ecological concerns as ‘a private case of social justice’, if sustainability is seen as a way of dealing purely with the social consequences of ecological problems. One could also argue that there is sense in using the phrase ‘ecological justice’, perhaps metaphorically, given features like exploitation and disregard that the environment shares with other New Politics problems. Despite all attempts at identifying ecologism with issues more easily added to the liberal democratic agenda, the third alternative can still not be excluded. It may well be that ecological concerns and social justice cannot be reduced to one another, but form the two distinct pillars of New Politics.

6 John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg

Part II, Reform and Change, discusses what might be termed ‘reform liberalism’: general changes in the structure and guiding principles of liberal democracies, adapting liberalism but not changing it beyond recognition. A first topic here relates to the addition of environmental side-constraints to ‘real-world’ (legal and political) liberal principles of justice. Is a liberal interpretation of sustainability destined to be negative (i.e. aimed at preventing unsustainability) or could it also offer room for positive sustainability (i.e. a particular social ideal or set of ideals of the sustainable society – Barry’s chapter on the ‘greening’ of liberal democracy in theory and practice). Next, four versions of ‘sustainability-sensitive’ modern economic liberalism are examined with regard to internal consistency (Labaras, chapter on liberal theory). Lastly (Achterberg’s chapter on liberal institutions), liberalism is confronted with a critical conception of modern society as a risk society. Liberalism still seems to be predicated on the existence of liberal democratic states, whereas (1) states no longer appear to be the sole (inter)national political actors and (2) environmental problems are often of an international or even global nature. John Barry’s chapter looks at the ‘greening’ of liberal democracy in theory and practice. He starts with an examination of ecological modernization as a contemporary expression of ‘real-world’ attempts by liberal democracy to meet ecological demands of sustainability. While largely an empirical question, Barry argues that an ecologically modernizing liberal democracy does demand a shift away from a ‘free market’, capitalist political economy. This implies a separation of economic liberalism and political liberalism, with an increased role for the state in ‘planning’ or ‘steering’ socio-economic development away from unsustainable paths. Barry suggests that this ‘negative’ interpretation of sustainability is more compatible with the underlying norms of liberal democracy than the positive, determinate and prescriptive views of sustainability one finds in the green political canon. He then moves on to examining some of the resources within liberal democratic theory, which it can use to ‘green’ or ‘ecologize’ itself. Here, the ‘social liberal’ tradition, indicated above, is suggested as offering the most positive potential for the greening of liberalism. Barry then goes on to show how the ‘precautionary principle’, a central feature of modern green politics, can be interpreted in liberal terms as an ecologized ‘harm principle’ which can justify state regulation and intervention of economic and other behaviour which have serious environmental impacts or risks. One implication of the application of this ecologized harm principle is how it calls for a rethinking of the

Introduction 7

private ownership of land towards viewing it in terms of ‘stewardship’ as opposed to exclusive private ownership and use. Finally, Barry suggests that the ‘greening’ of liberal democracy demands a less ‘unecological’ underlying political economy than its current free market, globalized capitalist one, and he suggests that a less consumption-orientated liberal democracy need not necessarily affect basic liberties and freedoms. As he puts it, ‘What liberties are ecologically unsustainable? Or what liberties are threatened by the emergence of a liberal welfare state less orientated towards maintaining and supporting increasing individual consumption levels?’ Nicos Labaras’s chapter focuses on four forms of political economy approaches to environmental issues, all of which accept the institutional-normative framework of liberal democracy. These are: (1) free market environmentalism (also discussed by Oksanen); (2) the constant capital approach of neoclassical environmental economics; (3) ecological economics; and (4) ecological modernization (also discussed by Barry). Taking sustainability as relating to the question of how to preserve the natural capital stock and achieve intergenerational equity, he examines each of these political economic theories in turn in terms of two main questions. Given the chapter’s main focus on the integration of ecological concerns into economic activity, Labaras is concerned, firstly, to assess each model of political economy in terms of how successfully it achieves this integration and, secondly, to consider the political-normative legitimacy of each model’s approach to this integration. While finding problems with all four, and concluding that no approach offers a coherent and convincing account of the integration of the economic and ecological systems, he tentatively suggests that ecological modernization may offer the best ‘real-world’ example of successful integration (particularly in the German context). Still, he admits, it falls short of the better outcome of ecological modernization in the Netherlands. The discourse of ecological economics performs best in terms of legitimacy. Wouter Achterberg discusses the social context necessary for sustainable patterns of production and consumption in relation to Ulrich Beck’s analysis of what the latter calls risk society and the process of reflexive modernization. Beck’s work is important because the emergence of large-scale hazards in modern society defines Beck’s picture of risk society, and because learning to deal with hazards is ‘just what taking sustainability seriously is all about’. In Achterberg’s view, the normative and institutional implications of Beck’s thesis are far from clear or developed. He therefore sets out to

8 John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg

amend and extend Beck’s theory where it remains unclear about the nature of risk in modern society, as well as about typically environmental concepts. Thus, he argues, Beck needs to – and can – offer room for questions of intergenerational justice through deliberative and democratic forums where a debate can be conducted on morally acceptable risks and hazards imposed on future generations. Beck’s two possible answers to ‘the organized irresponsibility that allows the transformation of risks to unmanageable global hazards’ are subpolitics, politics outside formal institutions and channels (a not necessarily democratic or desirable reply), and ecological democracy. The latter, again, needs ‘more content and structure’. For Beck, ecological democracy implies (unspecified) ‘new ways of thinking’ and liberation from dependence on the judgements of experts. Achterberg suggests that the best way to make sense of this is by reading it as a plea for deliberative democracy, i.e. the forum where preferences are discussed and developed rather than the market where they are merely aggregated. Achterberg concludes that ecological democracy interpreted along these lines is a necessary condition for risk society’s ability to cope with ecological and ‘other challenges of its own making’. In Part III, special attention is given to what is often taken as a core concept within liberalism: rights. Contributions here look at the (im)possibilities and (un)desirability of environmental protection by means of property rights at the micro-level (Oksanen on liberal institutions), at the possible role of constitutions and international law at the macro-level (Hayward on liberal theory), and at ways in which environmental needs might overrule liberal principles of justice, including liberal conceptions of (moral) rights (Attfield on the liberal individual). Tim Hayward’s chapter explores the case for pursuing ecological ends by (liberal) constitutional means. He examines the case for constitutional environment rights and the entrenching of ecological interests within a constitutional framework, and the implications of the latter for central aspects of political theory, including social justice and the character of liberal democracy and the state. A constitutional approach to dealing with environmental issues includes but is not reducible to concerns of sustainability or sustainable development. Hayward suggests that the large-scale and transnational character of many environmental problems requires cooperation both within and between polities. This cooperation needs to be grounded on widely agreed principles, and it is important that the latter be above the horse-trading, negotiation and ‘log-rolling’ of everyday political life. Given this, he

Introduction 9

suggests that constitutional principles are required, and points out that many national constitutions have already established environmental provisions and some have entrenched environmental rights. He points out that there is mileage in extending existing human rights discourse in an environmental direction and discusses the potential for environmental rights to be constitutive elements of a ‘new generation’ of human rights. At the same time, he recognizes that there are areas of tension and conflict between various environmental interests (which are open to different and conflicting interpretations) and interests associated with traditional human rights. Hayward then discusses Rawls’s work, in particular his distinction between liberties (which are subject to equal distribution) and income and wealth (subject to unequal distribution, in accordance with the difference principle). He suggests that while both principles are affected by the introduction of ecological constraints and conditions, the difference principle in particular is severely affected. Insofar as the latter implicitly relies on (1) economic growth and ‘trickle-down’ redistribution and (2) the justification of socio-economic inequalities as necessary for the latter, acknowledging ecological constraints on economic growth would move liberal democracy in the direction of a more equitable distribution of socio-economic wealth. While recognizing the difficulties, particularly in establishing ‘rights’ for non-humans, Hayward claims that some degree of constitutional protection for them is possible and desirable. Moving on to the issue of ‘ecological democracy’ and the relationship between constitutional and democratic imperatives, he argues that the appropriate attitude (from a constitutional environmentalist perspective) toward liberal democratic institutions is one of ‘immanent critique’. In addition, one needs to see the flexibility and accommodation of a plurality of interests within liberal democracy as positive features that can be used to move liberal democracy in a more sustainable direction. However, globalization (especially in its economic and ecological aspects) tends to undermine the ‘sovereignty’ of the nation-state. In this context, the ‘greening’ of liberal democracy via constitutional means needs to be sensitive to the empirical and conceptual developments attendant upon globalization, and recognize that constitutional environmentalism does not present a panacea for environmental problems and issues. Hayward concludes with the argument that the ‘fit’ between constitutional and democratic environmentalism (or ecological democracy) moves us in the direction of more open, deliberative and discursive modes of democracy. This argument finds much support among others in this present volume (e.g. Achterberg, de Geus, Mills).

10

John Barry and Marcel Wissenburg

Markku Oksanen looks at the issue of privatizing genetic resources via intellectual property rights and biodiversity conservation, thus exploring in more detail the issue of ownership relations regarding the natural environment, also raised in Barry’s chapter. His starting point is that for many, the sustainable use of natural resources has to do with patterns of ownership and access to those resources, with two opposing approaches often framing the debate. He distinguishes two different meanings of ‘privatization’, one meaning individual ownership, the other stressing the centrality of some property-right regimes (which can include communal ownership). On his view, the latter use of the term ‘privatization’ is misleading. He then goes on to discuss the significance of both for issues around genetic biodiversity conservation. On the one hand there are those (usually of an ‘economic’ liberal, i.e. libertarian persuasion, such as free market environmentalism) who suggest that it is the lack of clear, enforceable and tradable private property rights which is the main cause of the unsustainable use of natural resources. Thus from this perspective the privatizing of natural resources ensures their sustainable use. On the other are those for whom common ownership and access to natural resources, in this case modifying and extending the Intellectual Property Rights regime to include indigenous communities, can deliver sustainable (and equitable) use. This does not necessarily imply, as Oksanen is at pains to point out, an ‘open-access’ regime. Thus a commons regime is not an open-access regime, contradicting Garret Hardin’s infamous and misleading ‘tragedy of the commons’ hypothesis. On the basis of this argument, he concludes that ‘although it is conceptually disputable whether intellectual property rights can be generated to traditional and indigenous peoples, it is not so when considered in the light of sustainability’. Robin Attfield argues that ‘sheer practicality’ requires us to take sustainability seriously, that is to design societies and processes capable of being maintained indefinitely without undermining themselves, the segments of nature they depend on or other sustainable societies. There are, he says, areas in which sustainability could undermine liberty, for instance carbon emissions. Curtailing liberty in this area, however, enhances liberty in others: the reduction of pollution, for instance, also reduces illness; having fewer cars reduces congestion and promotes people’s freedom from inundation by traffic. From this perspective, such curtailment of freedom to enhance freedom is also compatible with liberalism itself. Attfield rejects the objection that liberal democracies cannot or should never import an idea of the good. They already do so in fact, and they cannot theoretically defend the kind

Introduction 11

of neutrality that would tolerate unsustainable practices: sustainability, like national survival, is a prerequisite for liberal democracy. One could even argue that liberalism and liberal democracy are compatible with ecological views beyond purely anthropocentric conceptions of sustainability. A second area of potential conflict between sustainability and liberalism is that of population policies. Such policies are necessary, since the limits to population growth in relation to expected food supplies, pollution and biodiversity are in sight. Yet they need not be illiberal. Policies of education and persuasion are acceptable as long as citizens are allowed and empowered to decide for themselves. In fact, they increase our freedom (and freedom elsewhere in the world) in other respects. Liberal democracies have a special responsibility in this field: someone has to pay for the development policies that must accompany population policies in the Third World. Attfield concludes that ‘where liberalism focuses on the freedom of all affected human beings or of all affected parties, or on the principle that freedom may be curtailed to prevent harm to others, there is no irreconcilable conflict, and some possibility of liberal societies eventually becoming committed to sustainability.’ Part IV looks at what may be the Achilles heel of liberalism and the future focal point for research in green political thought: duties. As several contributors note (liberal), institutions cannot work without civic support, yet liberalism asks even of convinced radical greens that they accept liberal pluriformity and submit to democratic procedures. Liberalism, green or not, lacks a proper account of individual and civic virtue and might not even offer room for one. In these chapters, authors discuss the kinds of green duties compatible with liberal democracy and the question whether liberalism can expound any particular conception of duty at all. Mike Mills’s chapter focuses on the duties, which are often neglected in liberal democratic theory and practice stressing individual rights instead. For him, the main difficulty for liberalism in dealing with environmental issues is that it offers little reason for individuals to behave well within established liberal discourses and practices of rights and social justice, yet behaving well is precisely what Mills argues sustainability requires. The main aim of the chapter is to suggest that for liberalism to address this issue, a more comprehensive theory of duties is required to supplement the more established liberal rights discourse. Mills discusses the problems in conceptualizing sustainability, pointing out that while it is ‘essentially contested’, we can at least acknowledge

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its basic normative character, thus he suggests that an unethical form of sustainability is a contradiction in terms. Mills indicates that two of the difficulties liberalism has in dealing with environmental issues are (1) the global character of some pressing environmental problems (also recognized by Hayward), and (2) the way in which ‘there appears to be a “private” or “personal” aspect to achieving sustainability which coexists with its “public” face’. The latter is particularly problematic for liberalism given its foundational commitment to protecting the ‘private sphere’ from political and social interference. Mills takes what he calls the ‘best-case example’ of liberalism (following Sagoff, 1988, p. 151). He notes that on the face of it, liberalism seems able to accommodate the personal and institutional aspects of sustainability. It is, after all, not incompatible with liberal principles (of individual freedom, rights, impartiality, social justice) to circumscribe individual (economic) freedoms if these interfere with the freedoms of others, and given that ecological sustainability is logically (but not ethically) prior to the achievement of freedom or justice. However, Mills finds this best-case view of liberalism wanting (from an ecological perspective), largely on the grounds that the liberal reliance on rights and justice to promote ethical behaviour is simply insufficient in addressing sustainability. Firstly, Mills argues that our behaviour is not motivated by acknowledging and respecting the rights of others. Secondly, rights-qua-claims require the prior existence of an institutional system to process rights-claims, which of course may not actually exist, in which case the ethical imperative is on the claimant rather than the rights-violator. Thirdly, an exclusive focus on rights demands agents who know their interests and those of others and take them into account before acting. Yet, as Mills suggests, this is not how people actually behave, and we are left asking why, from a liberal perspective, we might expect individuals to do things that are required for sustainability to work. Here Mills turns to the work of Onora O’Neill (1996) who argues that rights do not banish obligations, but an ethical framework based on the former does mean that obligations and questions such as ‘How should I live?’ will be secondary and derivative. Mills suggests that the latter sort of question is precisely what sustainability entails, and thus to the extent that liberalism is rights-centred it will fall short of what sustainability requires. He then moves on to discuss Rawls’s distinction between ‘natural duties’ (non-voluntary and non-institutional) and obligations (voluntary and institutional). However, Mills argues that it is not reasonable to assume that all obligations inside an institution are voluntary. It is

Introduction 13

intuitively sensible to believe that natural duties (or what he later calls ‘duties of being’) are retained wherever we are, regardless of the institutional or non-institutional context. Mills’s concern is that the Rawlsian distinction, for one, creates an unnecessarily wide gap between an ‘ethic of justice’ (‘duties of association’) and an ‘ethic of virtue’. It also presents the dangers that institutional behaviour becomes parochial, defined by purely institutional goals, and that office holders within institutions lose their sense of being a ‘person among others’, and lose sight of the importance of moral character and virtue to institutional office holders. Mills, following O’Neill (1996), emphasizes the way in which institutionally generated obligations, such as justice, cannot work unless they are seen as grounded in natural duties and virtues, such that the ‘community of justice’ is more properly thought of as based in duty than in mutual recognition of rights. So long as we can generate the duties of being in this way, liberalism can be rendered compatible with the demands of sustainability. He concludes with the strong claim that sustainability requires the partial dismantling of the separation of the public and the private ethical realms, best pursued through virtue and understood as the carrying of basic duties of being from the private to the public sphere. This stress on virtue and sustainability is also discussed by Ludvig Beckman. Beckman argues that one way of achieving sustainability is to make citizens attend to ecological virtues. A politics of virtue, he feels, can supplement more traditional approaches to environmental issues – witness recent proposals for a theory and practice of ecological virtue (Barry, 1999). On the other hand, the pursuit of ecological virtues may conflict with fundamental principles of liberal democracy, like liberty and respect for diversity of beliefs. A common belief is that the state should remain neutral to questions concerning virtue and the good life, and should not support or promote any particular way of life and its virtues. Beckman then discusses three elements within contemporary liberalism that might make it incompatible with a politics of ecological virtue. The first of these is the idea of individualism, the individual’s right to form an independent opinion. Secondly, he investigates equality, interpreted as an obligation on the liberal state to treat all lifestyles equally. The last topic on his list is scepticism, the idea that the truth about which virtues and lifestyles are good remains uncertain. He concludes that neither one of these three provides a conclusive argument against a politics of ecological virtue. Yet the compatibility of a politics of virtue and liberal values is not unconditional. The liberal democratic

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appreciation of individuality, for instance, precludes coercive and violent means, and in general limits the room for pursuing moralistic aims. The idea of equality allows interference with ‘mere’ preferences and tastes but not with the truly ethical elements of lifestyles. Scepticism properly understood, finally, demands room for revising, changing and even abandoning specific ecological ends: what is now regarded as true may later be proven to be false. Beckman boldly concludes that the values of liberalism do not justify the principle of neutrality in politics. Liberalism can legitimately support ecological virtues. This, he says, opens the door for a democratic deliberation on ecological virtue, resulting in a choice ‘to encourage or discourage certain attitudes on the basis of their relation to an idea of the good and sustainable society’. Marcel Wissenburg argues that liberalism can prescribe certain types of behaviour – and hence offers room for duties. There are, he says, several ways in which liberal theory can be ‘greened’, including strategies not mentioned earlier in the book. Some are more promising than others, and, oddly, those ways that imply individual duties promise to be most successful. Wissenburg begins by stating that philosophical liberalism is already environmentally conscious and friendly, it is just that past and present liberal theorists and commentators have failed to realize this green potential. He then proceeds to offer seven ‘green amendments’ to liberalism which show how liberalism can make room for environmental concerns while still being recognizably liberal. These amendments include how liberalism can incorporate the environment as either a subject or an object of liberal concern, the compatibility of ecological duties with liberalism, and how the Rawlsian savings principle can be amended and developed into a novel and potentially powerful and liberal-based ‘restraint principle’. It can act as a legitimate environmental side-constraint on the attribution of rights in a liberal society. The chapter as a whole indicates both the potentials within liberal theory for dealing with (some) ecological problems and how in dealing with them liberal theory itself changes. This signals one of its enduring characteristics, the flexibility and adaptability of liberalism, which, to use an appropriate term, has ensured its own sustainability over time. In a concluding chapter, John Barry, Marcel Wissenburg (the editors) and Marius de Geus (the initially most pessimistic contributor to this volume) consider the evidence and revisit the initial research question: how to conceive of sustainability in a liberal context? Is liberal theory flexible enough to support sustainability? Is De Geus’s pessimism

Introduction 15

justified? Or Wissenburg’s optimism? To what extent can liberal democratic institutions constitute a basis for solving environmental issues? In what ways, if any, is the liberal appreciation of nature compatible with a viable environment? And finally, which problems remained unsolved, and which new ones emerged? So, is liberalism compatible with sustainability? What type and how much sustainability can liberal democracy deliver in theory and practice? To find out some suggested answers to these and other questions, read on dear reader, read on …

Note 1. For their presence, comments and assistance during and after the 1998 ECPR Joint Sessions of Workshops at Warwick University, the editors would like to thank Brian Barry, Andrew Dobson and Hilmar Schmidt. For facilitating work on this and other chapters, we also owe thanks to the staff of Café Van Rijn in Nijmegen and to Hester Moerbeek. John Barry would like to thank Marcel Wissenburg for his energy, enthusiasm and above all wit and good humour in taking the lead in editing this volume.

Part I Liberalism and Sustainability

2 Sustainability, Liberal Democracy, Liberalism Marius de Geus

Introduction In this chapter I want to investigate to what extent sustainability can be realized in the context of western liberal democracy and how far liberal political theory can constitute a basis for solving the environmental issue. In the second section I briefly analyse the historical development of the sustainability concept. In the third section, the question is explored of which factors in a liberal democratic state prevent the realization of a sustainable society. In the fourth section, four dominant ideological approaches to sustainability are outlined. The value and necessity of a fundamental ideological debate on sustainability is examined in the fifth section. The sixth section deals with the question of how the basic assumptions of liberal political theory are compatible with a fundamental, ‘hard’ notion of sustainability. Section seven explores whether liberalism can be (re)interpreted in ways that respect values of sustainability and long-term environmental goals. Finally, the main conclusion is drawn.1

Sustainability: a brief history Originally the concept of sustainability was associated with the idea of a ‘steady-state economy’. In his Principles of Political Economy (1848), John Stuart Mill (1806–73) argues for a stationary economic state in order to protect the environment and to save the natural resources for future generations (Mill, 1848, book IV, chapter 6). A similar approach can be found among ecological utopian thinkers such as William Morris, Aldous Huxley, Bernard Skinner, Murray Bookchin and Ernest Callenbach (de Geus, 1999), in the famous ‘Blueprint for survival’ 19

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published in the Ecologist (1972), and in the work of the American economist Herman Daly, such as Toward a Steady State Economy (1973). In all these examples sustainability was intended as a foundational notion that aimed at a both economically and ecologically stable situation, a ‘normative’ concept in the sense that in this line of reasoning the aim of nature conservation, the preservation of scarce natural resources and intra-and intergenerational justice were seen as valuable and given priority over growth of production and consumption (Achterberg, 1994, pp. 19–27). With the publication of the Brundtland report Our Common Future (1987) sustainability has been deprived of its foundational character. From then on, sustainability has been defined as ‘sustainable development’: ‘Humanity has the ability to make development sustainable – to ensure that it meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs’ (WCED, 1987, p. 43). The basic idea underlying this concept is that economic development can be combined with an improved management of town and country, nature and biodiversity and can lead to a gradual decrease of environmentally hazardous emissions (WCED, 1987, pp. 1–23). Ever since that time, ‘sustainability’ has become a prime example of an open political concept, an abstract formula with which every imaginable party can agree, because the term sounds well and appeals to the ear. Nowadays, sustainability expresses a politically correct intention: it constitutes an adequate cloak under which the most varied political compromises can be achieved, but no longer induces radical and stringent environmental measures. Because of this change, sustainability has become one of the most ‘polluted’ concepts of the last two decades. At this point in time, it seems vital to restrict the meaning and give concrete form to the concept again, to make it viable once more as a starting point for action and to ascertain that it can be used as a useful guide to policy-making.

Inherent weaknesses of liberal democracy In western liberal democratic states there has been an increasing realization by national governments and citizens that solutions must be found to the ongoing process of environmental degradation. Paradoxically enough, this growing concern for the environment has produced neither a fundamental change in individual conduct nor a set of radical governmental policies to provide for real environmental protection and sustainability. It seems that, despite the growing awareness, the solution of environmental problems is still far ahead. In this section

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I shall concentrate on the question of which factors in a liberal democratic state contribute to this trend and prevent the implementation of a sustainable society. What are the principal reasons that in a liberal democracy no radical environmental measures are taken and no adequate policies in this field are executed? 1. Within the liberal democratic system, several mechanisms operate that prevent successful environmental protection. For example, this system does not typically take a front-line stand. Political parties will not take a position that deviates too much from the preferences of their voters, in order not to be punished during the elections: ‘Political parties are just a reflection of society. The bigger they are, the less they think it appropriate to take a line that differs from the view of the majority … Politics will only behave in a more environmental fashion from the moment that the average citizen will do so and not in the reverse order.’2 When most citizens do not behave in an environmentally friendly way at all, then politicians, under penalty of electoral defeat, will adopt a reticent and careful attitude in the case of environment protection policies. Liberal democracy is ‘reactive’, not ‘proactive’ environmentally. 2. In general, the liberal democratic system leads to a systematic undervaluation of ecological interests. In its institutions only contemporary citizens and their actual interests are represented. Contemporary citizens and politicians are generally focused on the promotion of their own interests (consumption growth, re-election) and generally suffer from a ‘defective telescopic faculty’, in the sense that the influence of future interests is diminished in today’s decision-making (Opschoor, 1989, p. 98).3 Under these circumstances the interests of future generations and voiceless nature are jeopardized in the actual political decisionmaking process. In the words of Robyn Eckersley, the liberal democratic state is ‘systematically biased against the interests of “non citizens”, or what might be called “the new environmental constituency”, that is all those who may be seriously affected by environmental decisions made within the polity, but who cannot vote or otherwise participate in the political deliberations and decisions of the polity (I have in mind here non-compatriots, non human species and future generations)’ (Eckersley, 1996, p. 214). 3. Liberal democracy has always been primarily directed at solving problems relating to the distribution of material welfare. The success of this system has essentially been that by means of political bargaining

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processes, it has succeeded in achieving compromises about the distribution of growing economic wealth. The system has shown its effectiveness in weighing one set of interests against another and finding solutions for the often complicated question of dividing the economic cake. The system has been far less efficacious in dealing with fundamental policy changes that might drastically influence the behaviour of citizens (for example by reducing mobility, realizing a decrease in environmental consumption, the introduction of much higher prices for environmentally unfriendly behaviour and products) (Galbraith, 1992, pp. 20–1). 4. A last shortcoming of liberal democracy lies in the intricate interwovenness of state and economy. A fundamental dilemma is that on the one hand the flexibility, productivity and efficiency of a free market economy are hard to deny, but that on the other hand a market economy poses at least two problems. (a) A market economy tends to lead to profit accumulation and economic growth, the rolling-off of environmental costs and the production of non-sustainable goods, and by all this generates unnecessary pollution and waste. (b) Part of the ideology of a free market economy is, at least, the idea of limited state intervention: the state is expected to be reluctant to intervene in the self-regulating economic order and accurately takes the interests of trade and industry into account. A liberal democratic state that would intervene more radically in the economy – e.g. imposing far-reaching ecological demands – and thus make life difficult for the entrepreneurs will get into an awkward position. The introduction of stringent environmental measures will induce enterprises to leave the country (or they will threaten to do so). Also the competitiveness of enterprises might be diminished, they might be forced to dismiss employees and would pay less taxes, causing financial problems to government itself. Ultimately, the general support in society for the measures taken will decrease. The free market economy with its ‘built in’ tendency to produce pollution and waste and liberal democracy with its ‘enterprise friendly’ attitude can be compared to Siamese twins who are very hard to separate. This might explain why environmental policies generally lag behind the actual developments in society, as in the case of air pollution, the death of forests (Waldsterben) and the degradation of nature in general.

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For these reasons at least, the lack of success of liberal democracy in effectively combating environmental problems is explicable. The general tendency in politics to make use of a relatively soft, flexible and reserved meaning of the sustainability concept can be explained in this way too. Yet, this does not mean that there has been no debate in society on sustainability whatsoever. The question then arises as to what alternative meanings to the concept have been suggested in liberal democratic politics in Western Europe.

Dominant approaches to sustainability in liberal democracies: the Dutch example In the decade following the publication of Our Common Future, all main Dutch political parties accepted the concept of sustainable development as a guideline for economic and environmental policy. However, a closer analysis shows that the specific content given to the concept by the political parties involved varies considerably according to the importance which is attached to facts, uncertainties and risks in relation to the environment and society. It has become more and more obvious that a completely different set of normative and political choices underlie their views of sustainable development (see also WRR, 1994, p. 8). Indeed, four dominant options of sustainable development have become evident, which are clearly different with regard to (1) the robustness of the definition of sustainability (‘hard’ versus ‘soft’); (2) the general perception of existing and future environmental risks (high versus low); (3) the expectations regarding the development of technological solutions for environmental problems (highly probable versus not probable at all); and (4) the answer to the question whether a strategy of ‘general consumer austerity’ is inevitable or preferable in order to achieve an ecologically sound society.4 Sustainability as a ‘steady state’ A first interpretation of sustainability can be found among the two green parties GroenLinks and De Groenen and, amazingly enough, also among the smaller right-wing Christian puritan parties GPV and RPF. In this interpretation sustainability is considered to be closely linked to the idea of a steady-state economy. Their ‘ideal society’ incorporates both an economic and an ecological state of equilibrium. These parties do not think in terms of growth, increase and expansion, but in terms

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of equilibrium, stability and balance. They argue that a large share of environmental pollution and damage to nature is caused by society’s unlimited tendencies toward growth in production and consumption. They argue that society should break away from these growth tendencies, and they advocate a society that is not based on the ideal of continuous economic development. The focus of these parties on a so-called steady state is reflected in their principles, in particular in the principle of a so-called ‘stationary’ state, as well as in their views on policy, where the ‘stable-state concept’ is the decisive criterion upon which social decision-making needs to be based. These parties’ preference for a steady-state society clearly indicates that they estimate the risks of ongoing economic development as high and are pessimistic about the future availability of natural resources. They opt for a risk-evading strategy and are reticent about the possibilities of the so-called ‘technological fix’, that is to say technological solutions to environmental problems. In this vision a high material standard of living must be replaced by a ‘high quality’ of life, involving a decrease in consumption levels. Western countries will have to decrease their level of welfare for environmental reasons, but also to enable Third World countries to reach an acceptable standard of living.5 Sustainability as ‘ecological modernization’ In the second line of thought – which in the Netherlands can be found among the social democratic party PvdA and the progressive liberal party D66 – sustainability is equated with the term ‘ecological modernization’. The general premise of this concept is that sustainable development can be combined with economic growth, a strengthening of competitiveness, better management of urban planning, nature and biodiversity, and a decrease in absolute terms of environmentally hazardous emissions. In this view a general argument is made for ‘intelligent growth’ of the economy, provided that the overall pressure on the environment diminishes (VROM, 1996, pp. 5–14). Environmental policy in this approach is actually seen as ‘a necessary, welcome impulse for change, for technical, economic or cultural renewal. The challenge of sustainable development is considered a decisive cause of innovation and improvement in the economic structure’ (van Driel, 1993, p. 12). The social democrats and progressive liberals in the Netherlands estimate the environmental risks of a continuous economic development considerably lower than the green parties. They assume that prolonged

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exploitation can reveal new stocks of natural resources and that, if needed, the exploitation of alternative raw resources is feasible. Their expectations with regard to the contribution of new technologies to the realization of environmental goals are relatively high. They expect that the integration of environment and economy will be accomplished by technological revolutions. In this line of reasoning an overall decrease of the level of consumption is not considered necessary. The main goal is to induce citizens to develop inherently environmentally friendly behaviour, without the necessity of consistent austerity or of radical changes in lifestyles. Sustainability as ‘stewardship’ In a third view – which primarily is to be found among the Christian democratic party CDA – sustainability is viewed from the general perspective of stewardship. The point of departure is that mankind is obliged ‘to cultivate and conserve the land as a good steward’. A harmonious relationship between humankind and nature and the acceptance of responsibility in order to maintain the natural environment for future generations are characteristic ideas: mankind is held responsible for its share in the conservation of the ‘wholeness of Creation’. In this Christian democratic stewardship approach, the environmental risks of economic growth are not seen as insurmountable and there exists an overall optimism about the future availability of natural resources. The presumption is that, in the end, technological solutions for most environmental problems will be found. A need for more austere consumption patterns or lifestyles is not expressed. The emphasis – at least in the Netherlands – is not on a radicalization of environmental goals, but on achieving the existing goals of the National Environmental Policy Plans. According to this view, gradual ecological and economic changes will produce sufficient results and provide for an ‘acceptable management’ of the natural world.6 Sustainability as ‘durable economic growth’ In the fourth line of thought – which in the Netherlands is found first of all among the conservative liberal party VVD – sustainability is associated with the facilitation of economic development. It concentrates on renewing economic processes, lasting opportunities for growth, innovative techniques and improvement of energy efficiency. In this view it is argued that it is ‘natural’ for mankind to strive for continuous growth of production and consumption. The general line of reasoning is that economic growth is a necessary condition for the development

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of environmental care and ecological renewal. Economic growth is considered as vital for a sustainable development of the world.7 In this approach the ecological risks of economic development for the environment are seen as remarkably low. Its advocates share a comparatively high optimism about the available natural resources: nature and the environment possess a considerable resilience. A high number of environmental problems are seen as inevitable, as the price citizens have to pay for a flourishing economy and the availability of ample spending opportunities, which are valuable in themselves. The government must abstain from far-reaching environmental measures (e.g. the introduction of a lower maximum speed or relatively high ecotaxes), because of the danger of restricting the freedom of citizens and enterprises. Imposing changes in behaviour from above must be guarded against to prevent an infringement of individual liberties. High confidence is placed in the potential of new technologies and ‘creative’ solutions to limit the pressure on the environment. A ‘sustainable growth’ of prosperity is viewed as the best guarantee against the degradation of nature, environmental pollution and potential resource scarcity.

Value and necessity of an ideological debate about sustainability The sketch of the contemporary ideological landscape concerning environmental issues given above may indicate that the realization of sustainability – in the Netherlands considered to be one of the central pillars of governmental policy – causes new and sharp dividing lines in politics and will produce a re-ideologization and politicization of the debate. Apparently sustainability is a concept to which all political parties consent in the political bargaining process. However, behind this thin layer of apparent unanimity there exist immense differences in the underlying assumptions and points of view (concerning the perception of ecological risks, technological opportunities to solve the environmental crisis, general ideas on intra- and intergenerational justice, the necessity of austerity), the proposed strategies (a reactive or proactive role of the government, only giving non-binding advice to people or imposing restraints on citizens’ behaviour, the introduction of soft or hard economical and ecological side-constraints), up to the definite goals (differing from a fundamental and hard ‘steady-state’ to a very pragmatic, flexible, ‘durable growth’ sustainability).

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Even though every political party seems to have embraced sustainability in public, the solution to environmental problems is not within sight, as one might expect at first instance. The most one can say is that finally the difficult and complex ideological struggle about the guiding, dominant and generally accepted meaning of the concept has started. I would like to argue that it is high time for such a deep-rooted ideological debate on sustainability, in which the profound contradictions in normative assumptions and positions become evident and the spectrum of possible meanings is restricted. For three obvious reasons it can be defended that it is sensible to move towards an unambiguous, robust and consistent definition of sustainability. 1. Up to this moment, the open, elastic meaning of the term sustainability has clearly led to widespread non-commitment in the official environmental discussions. The consequence has been that governments were able to postpone and avoid difficult choices in this field. Another consequence has been that most liberal democratic states were able to rely on the principle of ‘piecemeal engineering’, of modest reforms and changes in order to solve the most acute problems, while the very essence of the environmental issue (its largescale character, the scientific uncertainty about long-term health damage and the irreversibility of consequences) give reason to suggest that alternative models of ecological change are inevitable (WRR, 1992, chapter 1, and de Geus, 1993, chapter 9). 2. In the current debate, the original relation between sustainability and intra- and intergenerational justice is completely lost. The emphasis in the social debate has increasingly been put on combining economic growth with a decrease in environmental pressure. Nowadays the main focus is on renewable economic processes, innovative techniques and higher energy efficiency, while the element of justice among present generations (the rich North versus the poor South) and justice between present and future generations is increasingly neglected.8 3. A delimitation of the sustainability concept also seems necessary to save the credibility of the term and the policies that are based on it. Citizens as well as scientists and policy-makers understand very well that all the (political) parties involved interpret sustainability the way it suits them best at a given moment, without burdening them with serious obligations. An unambiguous, clear interpretation of the concept will be necessary to convince the citizens that sustainability

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can lead to a consistent, effective and durable course of government and not to some kind of see-saw policy.

The shortcomings of liberalism in relation to sustainability It cannot be denied that mainstream liberal political theory has, until recently, shown relatively little interest in questions of sustainability. It is also striking that most liberal political parties (e.g. in the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands and other Western European countries) have a rather dubious record with regard to issues of sustainability: they tend to profess sustainable development in words only. Is this merely coincidental, or can this be accounted for by the underlying principles of traditional liberal theory? My idea is that there are indeed some general reasons that can explain the poverty of liberalism in this context. I am not going to give a complete enumeration of reasons, but I will try to indicate some directions in which the answer to the above-mentioned phenomena can be found. In which ways are the basic assumptions of liberal political theory compatible with a fundamental, ‘hard’ notion of sustainability? The Lockean heritage: individualism, the domination of nature and nature as a rich resource Individualism Of course, liberal political theory is highly diverse and it is hard to give one clear-cut definition of it. However, looking at the mainstream liberal philosophical points of view, one notices that in this political theory the purposes of the individual are put first. Liberalism presumes human beings who are relatively self-centred, focus on their own interests, follow their own will and want to realize their own life-plans. As a matter of fact, the basis of modern liberal political theory can be found in John Locke’s ‘individualism’ as described by C. B. Macpherson in his The Theory of Possessive Individualism: Locke’s individualism does not consist entirely in his maintaining that individuals are by nature free and equal and can only be rightfully subjected to the jurisdiction of others by their own consent. To leave it at that is to miss its main significance. Fundamentally it consists in making the individual the natural proprietor of his own person and capacities, owing nothing to society for them. (Macpherson, 1975, p. 253)

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As the reader will know, Locke considered private appropriation natural and judged (after the invention of ‘non-decayable’ money) the propensity to accumulate beyond the limits of consumption to be fully acceptable. The implication is that in a liberal society the citizens mainly assert their individuality by means of accumulating property, buying consumer goods and following their desires, without accepting limits to their freedom. According to this Lockean credo, liberalism is principally a defence of the individual’s right to inequality in possessions, expanding property and human desires, rather than a defence of the purposes of society as a whole to – for instance – a clean environment and nature conservation.9 The domination of nature legitimated In line with the argument above, one of the basic assumptions of Lockean liberal theory has been that humankind has the right to dominate over nature: people are allowed to dominate nature and approach it as a means, an instrument completely at their service. John Locke writes in his Two Treatises of Government: God, when he gave the World in common to all Mankind, commanded Man also to labour, and the penury of his Condition required it of him. God and his Reason commanded him to subdue the earth, i.e. improve it for the benefit of Life, and therein lay out something upon it that was his own, his labour. He that in Obedience to this Command of God, subdued, tilled and sowed any part of it, thereby annexed to it something that was his Property, which another had no Title to, nor could without injury take from him. (Locke, 1965, p. 332) The right to property is a central element in Locke’s theory and nature is explicitly only there to be ‘subdued’ and made productive (see also Eckersley, 1992, p. 23). This forms a clear contrast to green thinkers such as William Morris, Peter Kropotkin, Ernest Callenbach and Murray Bookchin, who hold that in a sustainable society, nature will need to occupy a key position, and people will need to treat the natural environment with respect. In this view nature was not created to be the possession of humans, but exists for the sake of itself and deserves to be treated with affection. Until humans have developed an attitude of respect, equality and concern for nature, these green thinkers feel that a sustainable society is a distant prospect (de Geus, 1999, chapter 12).

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Nature as a richly flowing spring The idea that nature can be compared to a spring that flows abundantly can also in the first instance be found in Locke’s Two Treatises of Government. The Earth in his view provides the rich material humankind may make use of. He speaks of ‘the Plenty God had given to him’ (Locke, 1965, p. 330). Since all humans have a property in their own persons, the labour of their bodies and the work of their hands are theirs as well. By mixing labour with nature, humans remove this plenty from its natural state: by mixing their labour with it, they make it their property (Locke, 1965, chapter V). In this vision nature is a perpetually productive generator of foods, from which humankind may take as it pleases. Locke views the commons as an incessant source of riches and goods. The underlying assumption is that the earth presents us with new harvests and catches, new trees and plants in endless variations. There will always be enough food and natural resources to fulfil human needs. This rather optimistic idea is still reflected in modern mainstream liberal political thought, but is evidently at odds with the idea that sustainability implies empirical, physical side-constraints to human development and implies limits to the use that humankind can make of nature. Happiness and the good life In Lockean liberal political theory there is an implicit conception of happiness and the good life. Analysing Locke’s Second Treatise, one can find that happiness and the good life are primarily defined in terms of material gratification and property rights. Such happiness appears to depend strongly on achieving the highest possible level of consumption. The aim of the good life seems to be reduced to material progress and a broadening of property and consumer options. Status and wellbeing are primarily measured by the amount of property rights and consumer goods that people have. The consequence is that society rushes in the direction of a continual expansion of needs and a ceaseless satisfaction of consumer desires. A high level of consumption and a materialistic lifestyle, however, have far-reaching consequences: the deterioration of nature together with adverse effects on the human environment. The problem is that in modern western society consumption has become excessive and is now an ecological ‘vice’ (in part because it is separated from its ecological context). For this reason philosophers of sustainability strongly question the relationship between the good life and material gratification.

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Generally speaking, the idea of happiness and the good life, which for the proponents of ‘hard’ sustainability forms the foundation of an ecologically balanced society, consists of pursuing creative and intellectual activities: having meaningful relationships; experiencing satisfaction and pleasure in nature; and enjoying a healthy, peaceful and well-lived life with plenty of free time. The preference for limited state intervention In the Second Treatise John Locke argues that state power must always be limited to the public good of society. It is a power that has no other end but the preservation of the lives, liberties and estates of the citizens, and it must be restricted to that specific end (Locke, 1965, p. 403). This fundamental axiom has resulted in mainstream liberal theory in an obvious reluctance to allow government intervention with the aim of environmental protection in all kinds of processes in society and the economy. Among leading liberal philosophers there is a strong fear that the ‘ghost’ of state interference could result in a decrease in economic development and might in the longer run produce a world-wide economic recession.10 The liberal emphasis on limited government and restricted state intervention is incompatible with the analyses of theorists of sustainability such as Herman Daly who argue that a central role for the state and increased interference and regulation by the state organization are necessary to accomplish an ecologically sound society. An ill-considered conception of ‘freedom’ and ‘individual rights’ Again I shall refer to John Locke, but this time we can hardly blame him for his theoretical position. His definition of freedom is clear and evident: Freedom of Men under government is, to have a standing Rule to live by, common to everyone of that society, and made by the Legislative Power erected in it; A liberty to follow my own Will in all things, where the Rule prescribes not; and not to be subject to the inconstant, uncertain, unknown, Arbitrary Will of another Man. (Locke, 1965, p. 324) A recurring problem in western liberal thought is that it is suggested that every infringement of the freedom of choice in fact puts an end to the ‘freedom’ of the individual in the state. However, when for reasons of ‘sustainability’ the state reduces the maximum speed of motor vehicles on highways to 90 or 100 kilometres per hour – a policy measure

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that the Dutch cabinet under the pressure of liberal parties and pressure groups is not able to implement – this does not imply the end of the citizens’ ‘freedom’ or ‘individual rights’, nor is this the case when the state introduces returnable deposit systems on bottles, refrigerators, cars, etc. Liberal theorists and political parties tend to overlook the fact that – also according to their founding father John Locke – the essence of individual liberty in western liberal democracy does not lie in an unlimited freedom of choice or consumption, but in having a right to participate in politics and to enjoy a protected position with regard to the state. Freedom of the citizen is first constituted by having social and economic rights in addition to the civil liberties of participation, assembly, conscience, etc. (positive freedom). Further, the liberty of the citizen takes shape by the enjoyment of a secured position. Being a member of a free political community, the citizen obtains protection from the state. The state will guarantee the citizen a sphere of privacy, a restriction of its domain of authority. Through this, the individual is protected against abuse of state authority. From a legally secure position citizens can actively call on their constitutional rights in relation to the state. In this conception the state is strictly bound by its own laws and the private sphere of the citizen is respected (negative freedom) (Berlin, 1971, chapter 3). This combination of positive and negative freedom which makes up the very heart of the liberal constitutional state does not in principle have to be affected when the state adopts actively interventionist and regulatory behaviour in order to realize a sustainable society. This is a conclusion liberal theorists generally refuse to accept, which in turn makes them call the legitimacy of the concept of sustainability into question in which some kind of restriction of the freedom of choice is usually seen as an inevitability. The typically liberal consensus on a growth economy Finally, within western liberal thought there seems to be a basic consensus on the idea that economic development is of primary importance and that ideas on selective growth or ‘shrink’ of the economy are heretical. As was mentioned earlier, the general line of reasoning is – to quote from a recent speech of Dr Hans Wijers, the former Dutch liberal economy minister: Economic growth is absolutely vital in order to assure renewal. Growth, also in education, knowledge, technology, sustainable energy, infrastructure. Economic growth is a necessary condition for

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sustainable development. Economic shrink is infeasible from an administrative point of view and offers no solution whatsoever for the environment.11 The choice of western liberal democracies to opt for a yearly economic growth of about 3 per cent is fully taken for granted and is not to be discussed in parliament or the media. The main issue of the present debate in liberal democratic states is to combine economic growth with effective environmental policies. Within the general framework of western liberal thought there seems to be no room for the formulation of different, possibly more fundamental, questions. In any case it is obvious that within modern liberalism the question whether one should not (also) look for solutions in ‘reducing growth’ or ‘selective shrink’ is not put forward.

Mill’s inheritance If it is accepted that the basic assumptions of mainstream – Lockean – liberalism are incompatible with a fundamental, ‘hard’ notion of sustainability, there are good reasons to look for alternative liberal approaches. My idea would not be to ask ‘how the concept of sustainability is to be interpreted in ways that respect liberal democratic values and institutions’, but instead: ‘How can liberalism be (re-)interpreted in ways that respect values of sustainability and long-term environmental goals?’ The key to an answer to this question can be found in the work of the earlier-mentioned liberal thinker John Stuart Mill, whose influence on mainstream liberal economic and political thinking has been waning in recent years. Whereas in Lockean liberalism the leading principles are individualism, the preservation of property rights, the right to dominate over nature and the right to economic growth and development, in Mill’s liberalism the leading principles are individuality, the protection of liberty of thought, expression and action, the moral obligation to live in harmony with nature and a general right to human improvement and progress. In the third chapter of On Liberty, Mill argues that, rather than selfcentredness and individualism, the free development of ‘individuality’ is one of the essential preconditions of well-being (Mill, 1976, p. 120). In contrast to Locke, John Stuart Mill does not concentrate on the preservation of the right to material possessions, but on a much wider doctrine of liberty in which freedom is defined in terms of ‘pursuing

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our own good in our way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs or impede their efforts to obtain it’ (Mill, 1976, p. 72). In his Principles of Political Economy, contrary to Locke, Mill warns sharply against man’s domination of nature. He explains that there is not much satisfaction in contemplating a world where nothing is left to the spontaneous activity of nature: With every foot of land brought into cultivation, which is capable of growing food for human beings: every flowery waste or natural pasture ploughed up, all quadrupeds or birds which are not domesticated for man’s use exterminated as his rivals for food, every hedgerow or superfluous tree rooted out, and scarcely a place left where a wild shrub or flower could grow without being eradicated as a weed in the name of improved agriculture. (Mill, 1911, book IV, chapter 6) Whereas Locke in his Second Treatise argues for an increase of wealth and for boundless economic growth, Mill in book IV of the Principles of Political Economy holds that at the end of economic development lies the ‘stationary state’. A stationary economic development is not only considered justifiable by Mill, but is even heartily recommended: It is scarcely necessary to remark that a stationary condition of capital and population implies no stationary state of human improvement. There would be as much scope as ever for all kinds of mental culture, and moral and social progress; as much room for improving the Art of Living and much more likelihood of its being improved, when minds cease to be engrossed by the art of getting on. Even the industrial arts might be as earnestly and as successfully cultivated, with this sole difference, that instead of serving no purpose but the increase of wealth, industrial improvements would produce their legitimate effect, that of abridging labour. (Mill, 1911, book IV, chapter 6) According to Mill, a stationary, ‘sustainable’ economic condition can very easily lead to an improvement in the quality of life and offer room for spiritual, moral and social progress. Self-development and improvement in ‘the Art of Living’ will be thoroughly feasible in a steady-state economy. Perhaps that is ultimately the most important lesson that ‘Lockean’ liberal political thought can learn from the much greener ‘Millian’ liberalism.

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Conclusion The problem outlined at the beginning was to what extent sustainability can be realized in the context of western liberal democracy and how far liberal political theory can constitute a basis for solving the environmental issue. It has become clear that for various reasons liberal democracies are not very well equipped to defend ecological interests and tend to further a relatively ‘soft, flexible and reserved’ meaning of sustainability. Taking the Dutch case as an example, it was shown that – although sustainability may at first glance look like an unambiguous concept – there actually exist in political practice immense differences with regard to the underlying theoretical assumptions and points of view, the proposed strategies and the final goals. I suggested that the time has come to start a fundamental ideological debate on sustainability, in which these deep contradictions in normative assumptions and positions are unearthed, to prevent sustainability from becoming a totally empty and meaningless notion. I have argued that because of the Lockean individualist, naturedominating and growth-minded heritage, mainstream liberal theory was found to be incongruent with a fundamental, ‘hard’ conception of sustainability. On this basis I have to conclude that it is not a coincidence that in general liberal political theory has shown relatively little interest in questions of sustainability, a phenomenon that can be accounted for by the underlying principles and assumptions of traditional Lockean liberal theory. My central argument has been that it would be worthwhile to reinterpret liberalism in ways that essentially respect values of sustainability and long-term environmental goals. In my opinion the type of liberalism represented by John Stuart Mill deserves far more attention among liberal political philosophers and intermediary associations, such as employer’s organizations and political parties. Mill’s interpretation of, for example, individuality and his specific doctrine of individual freedom are much more defensible from an ecological point of view. Also his fundamental critique on the dominance of mankind over nature and the consequences for the environment of boundless economic growth indicate the possibility of an alternative ‘liberal’ approach in which liberal politics and sustainability can be linked in a convincing way. If liberalism wants to take the preservation and conservation of a viable environment seriously, it will have to rid itself of its Lockean inheritance and rediscover Mill: it is not yet too late.

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Notes 11. My thanks are due to Marcel Wissenburg who read the first draft of this chapter and who also made corrections for the English. John Barry and Brian Doherty gave valuable comments on a later version. 12. This is a quote from Dick Tommel, a former member of parliament for the progressive liberal party D66, in the Dutch environmental magazine Milieudefensie, no. 8 (Amsterdam, 1990), p. 8. 13. Compare Thomas Hobbes in his Leviathan: ‘For all men are by nature provided of notable multiplying glasses, (that is their Passions and Self-love) through which, every little payment appeareth a great grievance; but are destitute of those prospective glasses, (namely Morall and Civill Science), to see a farre off the miseries that hang over them, and cannot without such payments be avoyded’ (Hobbes, 1974, p. 239). 14. My source of inspiration for this approach was the publication by the Scientific Council for Government Policy (WRR), Duurzame Risico’s: Een Blijvend Gegeven (The Hague: Sdu, 1994), chapters 1–4. This analysis is based on a close reading of the 1998 Dutch election programmes: see Lipschits (1998). 15. Also GroenLinks, GroenLinks: Een Plaatsbepaling, foundational green party programme (Amsterdam: GroenLinks, 1991), p. 23. 16. CDA political programme, Section 4.3 on ‘stewardship’ – see Lipschits (1998), pp. 284–5. 17. VVD political programme, the section on ‘Economy and welfare’ – see Lipschits (1998), pp. 441–8. 18. A clear illustration of this is the policy document of the Dutch Environmental Department, Discussienota Milieu en Economie (Policy Paper on the Relation Between Environment and Economy) (The Hague: VROM, 1996). 19. Economic problems for liberalism are viewed as ‘problems of scarcity’ for which economic and technological solutions are required, rather than being seen as ‘excess demand’ which requires explicit political and normative regulation. 10. See, for instance, Rothbard (1978), p. 247. 11. These words were expressed by Hans Wijers when he officially opened the Dutch social debate on sustainability in Rotterdam, May 1996. See G. Pama, ‘Paars ziet niets in krimpeconomie’, in NRC Handelsblad (Rotterdam, 30 May 1996), p. 23.

3 Ecological Sustainability: a Private Case of Social Justice? Gayil Talshir

Introduction Ecological concerns and social demands are often clustered together as New Politics issues (Müller-Rommel and Poguntke, 1995). The explanatory model on which this account is founded is derived from the alleged emergence of the new middle classes in advanced industrial societies due to changes in the socio-economic structure. The second postwar generation, the argument goes, has experienced material affluence and is highly educated, a change which carries with it a corresponding set of values – postmaterial values (Inglehart, 1977, 1990). This sociological model is said to rest upon Maslow’s psychological account of the pyramid of needs, according to which it is only when the basic levels of existence – safety, food and other material needs – are satisfied, that a person becomes concerned with higher needs, such as self-fulfilment and aesthetic needs. Thus, the prosperous, highly educated new middle classes of the 1970s in advanced industrial democracies are said to adhere to postmaterial values which perpetuate new demands such as political participation and ecological concerns. Curiously, ecological concerns are characterized as aesthetic needs. This can hardly be the case, for ecological problems deal precisely with the most existential needs of all – life, health, sustainability and ways of life. However, if we dissociate the sociological model from its psychological foundation, or rather reconstruct the model so that the new middle classes are the social strata that has the available time and other-mindedness to deal with the public basic needs as their own material interests are satisfied, we are still left with an explanation which fails to dismantle the set of postmaterial values and to account for the interrelationships among the different New Politics issues. 37

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Ecological concerns and social justice are simply being clustered together, without a convincing account as to why this is – or ought to be – the case. This chapter explores different modes of the relationships between ecological sustainability and social justice – the two clusters of concerns identified with New Politics.1 The first part of the chapter accounts for three kinds of problems with their coexistence: the categorical difference between social justice and ecological sustainability; the in-built problems of addressing the environment from within the liberal democratic framework; and the ‘is–ought’ fallacy embedded in attempting to derive social values from ecological premises. The second part of the paper examines three perspectives that explain why ecological sustainability and social justice have co-emerged: the philosophical perspective argues for the impossibility of treating Man–Nature relations from a non-human perspective; the historical circumstances account for the contemporaneous rise of New Politics issues and for the reasons why ecological issues became the banner under which a comprehensive change of the political system itself was demanded; and the structural perspective suggests that ecological justice is but the most radical case of social justice, resulting from structural changes occurring in advanced industrial societies. The case for perceiving ecological sustainability as a private case of social justice is thus critically examined, though whether one should adopt this stance remains for the reader to conclude.

Problems with the coexistence of ecological sustainability and social justice The first problem with perceiving ecological sustainability and social justice as parts of the same New Politics discourse is a straightforward one: they do not fall within the same ontological realm. Thus, the categorical perspective – for lack of a better term – simply calls attention to the fact that nature is by definition (and by its nature) a non-social agent. It is curious, therefore, to ask whether ecological sustainability is a private case of social justice as the direct answer to this query seems to be no – nature is not a social issue. Thus, there is a fundamental difference between environmental and other New Politics issues. While the struggle of other new social movements is a social one (e.g. the equality of women, the rights of foreign workers, immigrants, gays and lesbians, multiculturalism) the environment – by definition – is a nonsocial entity. To be sure, misconduct towards the environment indeed

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inflicts severe damage on the health, integrity, social cohesion and sustainability of social communities. Social conduct has repercussions for the environment, the environment must be treated as a political concept entailing changes in communal and personal life, environmental awareness should be developed and environmental responsibility stressed. However, in all these cases, it is regard for nature – a secondorder apprehension. Hence, references to ‘ecological rape’ or ‘Mother Nature’, in the environmental debate, are only metaphors since there is no conscious subject which is either under pain or has compassion (cf. Kelly, 1994; for discussion see Talshir, forthcoming). These metaphors are useful means to make way for different human attitudes (for example by evoking remorse and compassion in people) towards the environment. Though the question whether Nature can or should be a moral object is under discussion, it is clear that Nature is not a conscious subject who may place her own demands and express her values, in marked contrast to women, indigenous people or these environmentally suffering communities. It seems that within the diversity of New Politics claims the environmental case is different in kind – not just in content. The environment is inherently a non-social agent, and while the term ‘injustice’ can only metaphorically be used in the environmental case, social injustices are at the heart of the New Politics critique. The foundations of democracy and the nature of the environment Not only do ecological problems differ in kind from other social issues, but the moral and political foundations of liberal democracies are socially oriented. Both the theory and praxis of advanced industrial societies are inclined towards human-centred perceptions and therefore allow little room for addressing ecological issues within their framework. The large and growing body of literature on environmentalism apparently suggests that an alternative model of the environmentally sound polity exists.2 Such a model stems from a reconsideration of humanity–nature interrelations, in light of the history of industrialism and the development of the science of ecology. To achieve a sustainable development, one line of argument goes, limits to growth have to be acknowledged. Environmentally sound policies necessitate production at the local and regional levels, thus reducing levels of trade and transport. Accordingly, a decentralization of power is needed, enabling decisions to be made at the appropriate level – by those who are most likely to be affected by the outcomes. Local communities, adhering to traditional practices, subsist in their environments.

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National and international entities coordinate and enforce environmental laws and social redistribution when necessary. Environmental ethics – based on the principle that human beings are both part of nature and responsible for it – result in self-restraining behaviour and an appreciation of the diversity of species, environments and ways of life. Natural interconnectedness, so we are told, entails reciprocity and respect for inter-species, inter-human and inter-national relations. Theoretically, it is possible to observe the means of attaining this – utopian, perhaps, as some commentators argue, the only realistic – worldview. However, the following analysis seeks to account for the inherent incompatibilities of concerns for the environment and ecological thinking when contrasted with the foundations of liberal democracies. The point of departure is the existing world order, confronted with global environmental effects to which it is poorly equipped to respond. This ‘order’, on one reading of it, is justified by a particular notion of the nation-state, derived from democratic convictions. It is these convictions which have to be challenged, in order to seek a transformative change. In the following discussion the basic features of the theory of liberal democracy are juxtaposed with the nature of environmental issues under four headings: the individual, the state, system of governance and parties.3 The individual The individual is the building block of the democratic polity.4 Individuals possess rights – which the political state has to protect – and they are free to pursue their interests – as long as other people’s rights are not violated (Parekh, 1992, pp. 161–2). Nature is, obviously, excluded from the definition of the political game. ‘Individuals’, ‘polity’ and their interrelations within a democracy are abstract sets of rules, while nature is usually initiated in a particular physical environment. Since democracy is a form of government ‘of the people, by the people and for the people’, the only chance for nature to figure in such a political discourse is primarily as a means, mediated by human interests. Whether, in order to situate ‘nature’ within the theoretical democratic framework, one needs to argue that nature has ‘intrinsic value’ (which, presumably, entails rights) or has its ‘own interests’ (which are, therefore, disregarded), as some philosophers argue, is debatable.5 In any case, the instrumental approach to nature is anchored in the cornerstone of liberal democracies. Nature could be regarded in so far as it is in humans’ interest, and only when and if human discourse cares to do so. The political discourse, self-evidently, has to construct ‘nature’ as a political concept rather than to consider it ‘as it is’.

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Not only is the democratic theory constituted upon human rights and interests, but limitations on individual rights are posed on the basis of harming other human beings or violating their rights. It might be argued that a ‘clean’ environment is a human right; however, biodiversity or unmanaged (‘natural’) ecosystems can hardly fall into this category. Here again, it does not follow that animals or ecosystems have necessarily to possess rights in order for them to be protected from harm. Rather, it emphasizes that a system which is based on rights and negative freedom of the individual disregards non-human entities as moral objects (let alone moral subjects). The priority, therefore, is always in protecting the rights of the individual while any other form of protection is secondary. Additionally, individual rights to life, freedom of action, security and property – these basic rights on which the liberal democratic creed is based – may have a significant impact on the global environment and the functioning of ecosystems. Consequently, the distinction between the public and private spheres, a central pillar of liberal democracies, is challenged (Phillips, 1992, p. 81). Almost every decision made by the individual regarding his or her own way of life affects the environment. Place of living, way of transportation, personal diet (food, trade and exportation), smoking habits or leisure-time activities – all have repercussions on the natural resources (water, oil, air), the human environment and the atmosphere. In short, the ‘iron wall’ between what I, as an individual, choose to do and what ‘others’ – be they humans, nations or ecosystems – do is incompatible with the interconnectedness of processes and their mutual influences. The theoretical building block of democracies – the individual – is only theoretically isolated from the consequences his or her deeds impose on other people, animals or ecosystems. While we want to save the freedom of the individual as a regulative ideal, the issue of responsibility has to play a decisive role in shaping ways of life in the social and environmental contexts. The state For liberals, the state has instrumental value, endowing its citizens – guided by the interest of the whole – with state-derived rights and obligations. ‘The abstract state and the abstract citizen complement and entail each other’ (Parekh, 1992, p. 163). The ‘interest of the whole’ and the ‘abstract state’ are of major relevance to the ability of liberal democracies to address environmental issues. On the face of it, ‘the idea that the government ought to work ‘in the public interest’ (Robertson, 1976, p. 9) suggests a sphere where concerns for the environment could be developed. However, ‘public interest’ is a matter

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for debate. It may be clear when concerning public goods, ‘that is goods whose nature it is that consumption of them by one does not decrease the stock left for others … [and] there exists no legitimate opposing interest’ (Robertson, 1976, p. 9). But can the environment be regarded as a public good? Garret Hardin, in the well-cited ‘Tragedy of the Commons’, provided a paradigmatic example of the clash between individual interests and the public good. Based on the assumption that others will respect the public good and not exploit it as this would reduce resources for all, self-interest points to the benefit of individuals (secretly) over-using the resources. Thus the inevitable outcome is that everyone over-uses the depleting resources of the commons (Hardin, 1968). In a world of unlimited natural resources, the environment might be considered as a public good free for all. This assumption, making way for unlimited growth, was, indeed, fundamental to the Enlightenment creed and to the concept of ever-growing progress. However, it has proved to be counterfactual.6 As resources are limited, the ‘public good’ discussion generates enormous controversy as to whose ‘public good’ it is: present citizens of the democratic state? contemporary citizens and their next generations? the world population at large? interest groups seeking profit from the public good and, by that, helping the national economy? Also, the second condition – lacking other opposing legitimate interests – hardly holds in environmental matters. Landscape, soil, water and natural resources are always under conflicting claims of ownership and interests. In a situation where public goods are ill defined, and private interests are given priority, the odds for the environment are very low. Furthermore, deriving from the conceptual framework of democracies – in which the autonomous individual is highly valued – a state is treated as a sovereign country on a given territory, free to constitute its own laws and enforce them within its borders. Environmental effects, however, do not recognize such borders. The inability of states to deal individually with their environmental problems highlights the limitations of national laws. The necessity of identifying the polluter and those directly affected in lawsuits points to the difficulties of national democracies in dealing with environmental issues. In the international arena, so long as human or national rights have not been violated, no other country has a right to interfere in a country’s internal affairs. Mechanisms of coercion or persuasion are not readily available between states, thus international laws and treaties are largely regarded as guidelines, not enforceable laws (Hurrel and Kingsbury, 1992). The results are severe restrictions and a lack of conceptual and practical tools for addressing global environmental issues.

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A system of governance Whereas the individual and the state are the theoretical poles, democracy is largely perceived today, by political scientists, as a system of governance with a particular distribution of power (Heywood, 1992, p. 269). ‘Governments are put in office by elections that reflect the opinions of the electorate and are, furthermore, made to be responsive (by recurrence of free elections) to their electorates’ (Sartori, 1987, p. 88). The political competition over votes, and the high probability of losing subsequent elections unless electoral attraction is maintained (Sartori, 1987, p. 3), is of essential importance to the democratic system which values political equality and fair play. However, its by-product is to condense the political game into a time frame of four to five years, during which time contesting parties are in constant competition over electoral support. The time span poses a major limitation on a consideration of environmental matters, which usually involve longterm processes. To take one example, levels of CO2 released into the atmosphere today will have an effect in 50 years’ time, so that any reduction made today will not bear immediate results for the government in upcoming elections, when it is more likely to be remembered as a government, albeit an environmentally conscious one, which implemented restrictions. Also, the government responsible for the increase in pollution, let alone a politician or policy, is difficult to detect and blame. Accountability – at the heart of a democratic theory – is extremely hard to achieve in environmental matters. The short-term perspective and the competitive structure of the system of governance in democracies favours policies which bear immediate results and which profit or improve people’s life significantly enough to translate into a vote during the next election. The likelihood of a change of government increases the probability of a change in policies – an environmental scheme or long-term policy may be put in place by one government, only to be reversed by the next government if it is thought it could sway election results. The principle of reversibility of policies is another crucial democratic concept based on an epistemological premise that there is no final truth about what is good for society … and that the only criterion for the public good is what the people, freely organized, will choose, not what some expert or prophet decrees on the basis of superior knowledge (Beetham, 1992, p. 42).7 This has several outcomes with regard to environmental problems. First, for natural environments (or environments under less intense human pressure) the reversibility of policies can mean irreparable damage. Ecosystems have evolved through long evolutionary processes,

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unique to the conditions and environmental constraints in each particular area, which have produced intricate interrelations between the environment, plants and animals. The controversy between Goodin and Giddens best exemplifies this. Goodin, in his Green Political Theory (1992), argues that natural environments should be valued because they result from natural processes rather than human activities. A landscape restored after, say, mining activity took place does not have the same value as a pristine one. Giddens extends this logic to the preservation of a traditional village or an ancient building and argues that since the same criterion holds there too, there is no ‘natural’ nature in any pristine way (Giddens, 1994, pp. 204–5).8 However, while the restored site ‘looks identical’, as Giddens claims, it is not necessarily identical. The diversity of species and the web of life which maintained itself on the landscape in a certain dynamic equilibrium through genetic evolution has been destroyed. An ecosystem is not a scenic vision, as the romantic poets led us to think, but a live, interactive system. This is not to imply that mining or other human activity should be prohibited, but that, as the environment is not a human creation, ‘restoration’ is a misconceived concept: much environmental damage is irreversible – the extinction of species is a case in point. So the democratic, enlightened premise that every decision is given only to freely choosing individuals, and can in principle be reversed, clashes with the basic environmental feature of particularities and irreversibility. This is but another example of the clash between the claim to universality, which characterizes liberal democratic theory, and the focus on the particular and the singular, which is essential for environmental thinking. Nevertheless, the singularity of individuals is highly valued in democracy, thus providing a theoretical foundation for the conceptual inclusion of ecosystems and cultures within the liberal discourse – though not on the grounds of intrinsic value, as in the case of individuals in the moral discourse, but on the grounds of an appreciation of diversity and the preservation of systems in which people can find recreation but cannot re-create. The epistemological premise further entails not only that there is no truth of the matter but that there are no ‘experts’ or ‘superior’ knowledge in political decisions. Are environmental problems a matter for scientists or for politicians? Clearly, decisions concerning environmental issues have to be filtered through scientific opinions.9 Scientific disputes over the facts of the matter – identifying the problems, determining the rate of destruction, suggesting solutions – are the first obstacle to introducing environmental demand to the political arena. This is even

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more complicated as scientific research requires funds and thus itself competes on political grounds. Additionally, the epistemological premise generates a particular notion of what politics is all about. Since there is no final truth of the matter, politics is perceived as the art of settling political disputes and compromise (Heywood, 1992, p. 291). Conflicting interests are therefore the starting point of the political debate. Even if environmental demands sound reasonable in themselves, it is within the framework of conflicting demands that they are likely to be examined. Nature would be subjected to further damage – inescapable in a case of a compromise.10 The second obstacle, therefore, is the priority order of the government, given other social and economic tasks that compete for the same resources and funds (see the discussion by de-Shalit, forthcoming.) Finally, defining the function of the government as to dissolve conflicts and solve problems (Miller, 1992, p. 55) means that only issues identified as political or social problems figure on the national agenda. Environmental issues are considered as political problems only at the end of a long process of degradation. Rising levels of asthma cases, increased water and air pollution and soil erosion are symptoms of long-term environmental damage. The problem–solution framework will usually deal with eliminating the symptoms rather than the causes. The parties Finally, the major agents in a democratic system of government are competing political parties which depend on clients, interest groups and members who have their demands and expectations from the party (Robertson, 1976, p. 5). Commitments to certain sectors might jeopardize and defeat environmental concerns, which are not always voiced by economically or politically influential lobbies. This brings to the fore one of the central problems with environmental issues – the direct victims are usually non-humans (e.g. plants, animals, species, geological sites or ecosystems) and hence no environmental group can claim to represent ‘the environment’ in the same way that, for instance, Labour can claim to represent workers’ interests. In environmental matters, representation is always of a secondary order. Moreover, when people do suffer environmental damage, they usually do not belong to any specific sector of the population, and their environmental demands can be accommodated within the Right or the Left. Environmental concerns are therefore unlikely to be a pivotal issue or determine election results in favour of one of the parties.11 Since environmental concerns are nice ornaments of quality of life to go with

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any platform, ecological issues will coexist, incompatibly, with economic and social commitments in most parties’ manifestos, deepening the discrepancy between political rhetoric and actual policies (see the discussion in Poguntke, 1993, and Kolinski, 1989). Finally, the political system and parties are operating on terms borrowed from the market. A party tries to maximize its votes by maximizing the profit of its voters. It seeks power, and thus is vulnerable to pressure from interest groups to get their messages across, and financial resources have a crucial influence on the ability of parties to market themselves. The aggressive competition for political power, designed to harvest shortterm profits and offices, produces a very hostile environment for a disinterested client like the environment. Deriving the ‘ought’ from the ‘is’: rethinking Green Political Thought Presumably, one way of dealing with the discrepancy of environmental problems and political values is to construct a political theory according to which social norms can be derived from ecological principles. An alternative worldview to that of the existing Left–Right ideological axis would thus be established. However, there is an ideological deficiency in the concept of ecology which is worth exploring, as it sheds critical light on such political theories. In Green Political Thought, Dobson suggests a way to reconstruct Green arguments into an ecologically derived worldview which may illustrate the misconception such a view might entail. Dobson argues: Ecologism makes the Earth as physical object the very foundationstone of its intellectual edifice, arguing that its finitude is the basic reason why infinite population and economic growth are impossible and why, consequently, profound changes in our social and political behaviour need to take place. (Dobson, 1990, p. 15) Ecologism, we learn, is based on a fundamental critique of industrialism and puts forward, instead, a vision of a sustainable society. Thus, rethinking the relations between humans and nature in light of the limits to growth thesis provides the cornerstone of ecologism. Consequently: The importance of nature to ecologism … is not exhausted by the reasons why we should care for it. There is also a strong sense in which the natural world is taken as a model for the human world, and many of ecologism’s prescriptions for political and social arrangements are

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derived from a particular view of how nature ‘is’. This view, not surprisingly, is an ecological view. (Dobson, 1990, p. 24) A direct delineation of social prescriptions are suggested from the model nature provides, illustrated by Dobson (1990, p. 24) as follows: diversity – toleration, stability and democracy interdependence – equality longevity – tradition nature as ‘female’ – a particular conception of feminism This exposition is contestable on three grounds. First, it is obvious that this interpretation of ecology is, to say the least, partial. Ironically, after the horrific implications social Darwinism had on human societies (based on pseudo-scientific projections from ecological perceptions onto human societies, singling out the survival of the fittest, competition and living-space as reasons for the most despicable atrocities against humans and humanity) it is curious that a new and supposedly enlightened ideology would seek refuge in another partial view of ecology. Choosing diversity and interdependence, disregarding predatory struggle for survival and parasitic relationships, suggests the highly selective perception of ecology in that ideology. Second, even if these features were the quintessential aspects of natural ecosystems, there is no reason why humans should seek to behave in that way, or deduce these and not other social principles from the natural world. Humans are part of nature, but the very way we conceive of nature is an interpretation. One cannot just imitate the way nature is; humans act upon the basis of their beliefs, and therefore one needs an argument as to why we should adopt supposedly natural rules. The reasoning cannot simply be ‘because this is the way nature is’. Third, and most important, Dobson himself cites Pirages who maintains that social design leading to a sustainable society is a process that ‘can be carried out within present authority structures whether they be democratic or dictatorial’ (Dobson, 1990, p. 24). Nature, in principle, does not entail either dictatorship or multicultural democracy. The very foundation-stone of ecologism – the finitude of earth – can suggest to some that a strong central, global government should be in charge of the distribution of resources, and to others that self-reliant communities would be the best way to ensure a sustainable future. This exemplifies the main point: environment in and of itself lacks social prescriptions. Whatever an ecologist chooses as political principles is a projection of moral and political values which are disguised

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behind naturalism. Dobson argues that ‘authoritarian solutions to the environmental crisis have been abandoned by the movement … it would therefore be quite wrong to see it in such a light’ (Dobson, 1990, p. 26). This means that the historical situatedness, which he rightly emphasizes (Dobson, 1990, pp. 32–3), is instrumental for the understanding of the political prescriptions of Green ideology. Thus, environmental principles are the most sensitive seismograph for political beliefs, but they cannot provide the basis for a political worldview. For that reason constituting Green ideology solely on a reconsideration of human–nature relations overlooks the fundamental ideological deficit of the environment. The radical worldview is certainly informed by ecological problems and perceptions, provides a fierce critique of industrialism and puts forward a new vision of a sustainable society emanating from ecological problems, but the social and political beliefs which are thereby disclosed are irreducible to ecologism, despite what most ecologists and their analysts argue. A fundamental distinction has to be drawn between the ecological critique, which necessitates an ecologically aware politics, and the alternative worldview which cannot be constituted solely on so-called environmental values. The term itself, ecologism, perpetuates the ‘is–ought’ fallacy and proffers it as the centrepiece of Green ideology. Whereas toleration, stability, democracy, equality, tradition and feminism can use natural metaphors to enhance themselves, these political values are independent core concepts of an emerging Green ideology, not derivable from ecological perceptions. Even if political ecologists genuinely believed that nature provides a model for society, political analysts should recognize the ideological deficit of ecologism and seek to discern the roots of the political values which the ecological movement adheres to elsewhere. Otherwise, environmental theorists reinforce the is–ought fallacy rather than critically challenging it. From the discussion so far, fundamental problems emerge for the characterization of ecological issues as part and parcel of New Politics. The environment differs in kind to other concerns of New Politics, as it is a non-social agent which can at best achieve second-order representation; the whole philosophical and institutional arrangements of liberal democracies are constituted upon a human-centred approach, and establishing a new, ecology-based idea of the good society runs into difficulties, due to the ideological deficiency of ecology which may seek environmental awareness but should not attempt to derive the social ‘ought’ from the natural ‘is’. The very project of considering ecological sustainability as a social justice case appears to be extremely problematic.

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Explanations for the co-emergence of ecological sustainability and social justice Given the apparent incompatibility of economic problems and social justice, can one still justify their coexistence as the definitive elements of New Politics? Observing these issues from the philosophical, historical and structural perspectives makes way for a different picture as to the relationships of these different New Politics issues. Man–nature interrelations: political implications We started the discussion with a crude observation that the environment is a non-social agent. However, man–nature relationships were redefined once environmental issues were finally conceived as political concerns. Note the subtle distinction: protecting the ecological basis for humans, plants and animals, and protecting nature – the non-human component – from man by ecologically informed (human) politics. The distinction between man and nature is both superseded by the common dependence on the ecological basis as man is part of nature, and reinforced through emphasizing ‘nature’ in itself, in its non-human components. The very recognition of humans’ impact and reliance on ecological systems directs attention to the natural systems that are thereby affected. However, the politics of protecting the environment, even if this entails restraining human intervention, is itself a recognition that natural environments are heavily influenced and in fact managed by man. ‘Nature’ can no longer be naively disregarded, nor perceived as a self-managed non-human domain, as human actions influence physical environments, the atmosphere, climate, energy resources and the extinction of species (thus ‘pristine’ nature or a ‘return to nature’ or ‘leaving nature alone’ are also challenged, though their romantic appeal will continue to play a dominant role). The ecological aspect of politics at once contests and overhauls the man–nature distinction, emphasizing a shift not from man to nature but to the interrelations within the ecosystem of which man is a part. While this dialectical man–nature relationship might be seen as a philosophical subtlety, it is but a manifestation of a fundamental issue: as was demonstrated above, ‘ecology’ in and of itself is not and cannot provide a theory of the good society. Even when discussing ecological effects, the questions are still to be decided from within a social framework; that is the question of how best to deal with nature, is a social question, not an ecological one. However, ecological problems shift the political realm to the outside world, to issues that are not contained

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within human ideas of the good society. Whereas Socialism, Conservatism and Liberalism differ on a specific configuration of values providing an analysis of political reality and a social vision, ecological problems transcend this political discourse. The necessity to take into account not only social but also environmental factors in a way the Enlightenment creed overlooked is thus manifested. In other words, the expansion of the political discourse is the likely outcome of an awareness of man–nature dialectics, which also carries moral implications. Whereas nature is still a non-social agent, it is definitely within the social framework that it has to be considered. The moral discourse is constituted upon human subjects, but the object of human morality can equally be social and ecological agents. Nature might not be granted the status of a moral subject, but is ‘entitled’ to that of a moral object.

The emergence of a compound collective political actor It is within this context that the contemporaneous emergence of the new social – and environmental – movements should be discussed. While the different histories of the new social movements (NSMs) could be individually reviewed, the historical context drew the different movements together in the political circumstances of the 1970s into one collective political actor. Thus, the historical situatedness, namely the political setting which induced the contemporaneous reaction of different collective actors to the philosophical and institutional grievances of the existing order, is an immanent factor in the emergence of the compound actor – the Greens. The umbrella organization of all the different movements came to be identified with the ecology movement. As one commentator put it: ‘The ecology movement has created a climate of opinion in which nobody can be or wants to be against ecology. An ecological awareness has taken hold of society’ (Hülsberg, 1988, p. 68). The penetration of environmental consciousness to the political realm is therefore a good position from which to approach the intersection of the different movements in the historical circumstances of the 1970s. Despite the uniqueness of the environmental case – introduced in the first part of this paper – ecological concerns were instrumental in facilitating the interrelations of the different new social movements that constituted the locus of political protest. Ecological concerns are but the most radical case of the social problems within advanced democracies. The discourse of rights excluded not only nature, but foreign workers, ethnic minorities and arguably women. Issues of nuclear

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war, endangered cultures and immigration transcend national borders. Economic interests usually dominate the public agenda, rendering it impenetrable to new political demands. Ecological problems also exemplified the interconnectedness of the economic, social and environmental processes, hitherto outside the scope of the political realm, and yet threatening human existence, health and the quality of life on individual, local, national and international levels. This exposed the need to extend political discourse to new issues, and thus ordained the politicization of the personal, communal and global. Furthermore, the historical events of the 1970s – the oil crisis of 1973–4, the nuclear power-stations which followed and the stationing of missiles in Europe by the turn of the decade – provided a linear escalation which led to the accumulation of the critical mass of the NSMs and united their struggles. The framework of the political order both within and among nation-states was challenged. Finally, global-ecological argumentation provided a systemic framework for a comprehensive critique. For example, nuclear stations were not analysed solely for their contribution to an atomic war. The risks they posed for the local community and the population to which the nuclear waste was to be transported, the possible implications for succeeding generations and the moral aspects were all mutually considered. The ecological perspective endowed the NSMs with a new theoretical vantage point for a political critique. Thus, environmental concerns comprise only one realm, albeit diverse and complex, of a cluster of problems simultaneously rising with other social demands. This cluster came to be known as New Politics issues, which radically challenged the political agenda in institutionalized democracies during the 1970s and 1980s. Crucially, the limits to growth thesis, the anti-nuclear campaign and the peace demonstrations challenged the dominant worldviews of both the Left and the Right. The absence of a straightforward political identification of the movements proved instrumental in their struggle against the establishment. This wide wave of protest was sometimes supported by the opposition parties, and backed by a broad popular front of no particular political affiliation. NSMs targeted varied subjects at grassroots level, but their decentralized, one-issue battles were gradually turning into an anti-system war, marked by deep alienation from established institutions and material culture and inflamed by anxiety about the potential effects of the ruling system. For citizens active in the NSMs, traditional politics distanced itself from the real concerns of ordinary people. Life and death, peace and war, hope and fear were the most striking binary

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oppositions which mobilized public support and celebrated direct political action – in the face of apathy and despair – against the politics of war. Tellingly, evidence for the worsening situation came not from the statements of politicians, but from the outside world. The mounting environmental problems became the quintessential embodiment of the impotence of political institutions. While national governments were locked both on security and economic terrain into the international arena, environmental concerns, at the margins of the established political territory, moved to the forefront of extra-parliamentary opposition. Importantly, this environmental wasteland – the hitherto apolitical ground par excellence – did not mark a withdrawal from politics, but provided the very battlefield in an attempt to shift the political grounds of the debate. Environmental issues were the banner under which the struggle to define the ‘political’ itself took place. In short, the very incommensurability of ecological issues with the theory and praxis of liberal democracies, considered in the first part of the paper, led to a crisis which in turn triggered a struggle against the rules of the game of advanced democratic societies, a struggle for which the environmental battle was to be the banner. Thus, three main functions of the concept of the environment in New Politics discourse are most telling: first, an asset brought by the ‘environment’ to the political discourse of the Greens is exactly the fact that it can be ‘appropriated’ by different groups of the negative coalition on different grounds, without having any ‘genuine’ representatives. For example, ecosocialists interpreted the ‘environment’ mainly in reference to the ecological crisis as enhancing exploitation and degradation immanent in advanced capitalistic societies; for the alternative movements the environment acquired concrete and diverse aspects of alternative ways of life, in particular the ‘politics of place’; in the feminist discourse reference to nature captures more its symbolic role on the one hand (despite the confusion with human nature), and an interesting shared condition under the general pattern of domination of the masculine culture on the other; and the right-wing conservatives thought that environmental concerns enhance traditional, ‘natural’ practices and values. While the concept of the environment had a unique and instrumental role in each of the discourses of the different NSMs, it enabled the different groups to have sympathy with each other on the grounds of the centrality of the environmental issue. Secondly, beyond the unique and separate struggle of each of the social movements, which served to emphasize their difference and particularity, environmental issues concern every man and woman

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regardless of party affiliation. It has direct repercussions on everybody’s health, quality of life and natural surroundings and therefore transcends the idiosyncratic discourse and provides a tangible political concept to contest government’s policies. Indeed, the all-invasiveness of politics and the crucial role of the environmental crisis in challenging the political system were fundamental to the negative coalition of the Greens. The environment, the hitherto apolitical issue par excellence, provided alternative political grounds on which to base a radical critique of the polity. Thirdly, all concerns with relations of domination were to some extent manifested in environmental issues, as the ecological problems appeared on the personal, communal, national, international and global arena. The environment was the ultimate disadvantaged agent for it is not suppressed by one or another interested party or social class, it is exploited by the ‘system’ itself, an exploitation which affects all people. The ecological movement facilitated the integration of different social movements, for environmental problems were universal concerns. Yet these issues constitute the most radical example of the exclusion of new political issues, at the heart of people’s health and quality of life, from the public agenda. The ecological movement challenged the value-system of economic development, materialism and exploitation which underlie the political culture of advanced industrial societies. In this historical situatedness, different collective actors responded to varied grievances against advanced industrial democracies, gradually coming to realize their common structural problems with the political system. The emergence of the Greens as a compound collective political actor transformed the individual, environmental and social battles into a political struggle concerning the meaning of politics itself. Structural analysis: advanced industrial democracies and the expansion of justice On an analytical level, whether the array of conflicts in point have any common features, and whether New Politics activists, coming from different groups and lifestyles, share any structural features which unite them in a politically significant way are independent of whether they themselves provide the answers to these questions. My contention is that the emergence of these conflicts is rooted in two features of advanced industrial democracies: first, the changing nature of advanced industrial societies, which gave rise to issues like foreign workers, the underclass, refugees, unequal pay, massive unemployment, etc.; second, the institutionalization of democracies – the rigid political structures

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which limit political mobilization, participatory politics and empowerment of people thereby creating a different set of conflicts such as the rights of ethnic minorities, disabled people, women, and gays and lesbians. Ecological issues fall into both these categories: rapid economic changes caused the depletion of resources, ecosystems and landscapes, whereas the sensitivities to the repression of the ‘other’, within advanced democracies, called attention also to the detrimental, irreversible damage done to nature by humans. The structural analysis with which the discussion was introduced can now be complemented by a discussion of the interrelationships between the different dimensions of ecological sustainability and social justice. In the course of the 1970s a generation of the new, educated middle classes matured within advanced industrial societies. They themselves were brought up with liberal democratic conventions, but their reaction to these values was not a rejection of but a demand to expand the basic intuitions of regard for the ‘other’ and rights to the new suffering agents which became exploited by the enlightened systems during the economic changes. The demands, however, did not receive a response because of the rigidity of the political systems and the unique circumstances of the Cold War. The struggle of independent movements, each interested in different social or environmental aspects of politics, has thus become a political struggle, seeking to change the very rules of the games of liberal democracies. Ecological issues, in that respect, became the ultimate example of these demands: ecological problems are universal, they affect everybody, they can have no genuine representation and therefore necessitate direct individual and collective awareness and knowledge, and they demand radical change of the moral and political spectra in order to be properly addressed. The only problem with this mass protest was that, once the struggle became a struggle over what is political and what are the proper rules of the games which will allow the expansion of justice to the newly damaged agents of democratic nations, the environment seemed to be forgotten and left to theoreticians.

Conclusion The discussion has left us with three major options concerning the relationships between social justice and ecological sustainability within New Politics. First, we could argue that ecological concerns may be characterized as a private case of social justice insofar as we constrain ourselves to dealing with the social consequences of ecological

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problems – be it the lack of recreational space in the inner cities, the depletion of the ozone layer and its effects on humans or health problems due to ecological pollution. This would restrict the argument to the instrumental representation of ecological issues but would provide a comprehensible expansion of the political discourse. Secondly, we could argue that given the similar features of all New Politics problems – i.e. exploitation or disregard due to lack of consciousness and failure of public responsibility – we should establish the term ‘ecological justice’ which should then constitute a private case of justice-issues represented by New Politics. There might be a lot of arguing to do about applying the concept of justice to the environment, but it would be sustained by showing the similarity of injustices which industrial society has inflicted upon ecological and social agents. Thirdly, we could hold that ecological concerns and social justice are the two pillars of New Politics, since they are both embedded in structural problems within advanced industrial democracies. Ecological concerns best exemplify the causes of the struggle to change the political system, but they are irreducible to the discourse of justice and hence constitute but one of two pillars of New Politics.

Notes 1. I shall use ‘ecological sustainability’ as the code name for ecological processes and problems emerging from ecology’s political aspects, as all such processes have, in the end, to do with the ability of ecosystems to evolve within human constraints. I shall use social justice as a code name for all the social problems to which the New Social Movements have called attention – rights of immigrants, foreign workers, women, etc. – for, as I shall argue in the final section, they all seek to expand the moral blanket to cover these realms within civil society. 2. For different accounts of environmental political theory see Goodin (1992), Dobson (1990), Eckersley (1992) and Pepper (1984). 3. Since the scope of the paper is limited, my main purpose is to highlight potential areas of problems rather than to thoroughly examine them. 4. Notwithstanding that both right- and left-wing ideologies perceive humans as social beings in communities at different historical periods. 5. One way of arguing for the consistency of liberal democracy and environmentalism is by enlarging the rights and interests blanket to cover nonhuman entities, as the biocentric and ecocentric philosophers demand. Another way is to recognize the limits of the ethical realm, and to advocate environmentalism not at the normative, but at the enlightened-awareness level, relying on the premise of choosing in light of the available facts – the facts being the destruction of ecosystems and natural fabrics that should be protected even at the expense of some human freedom of choice.

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06. Given ecological evidence and economic reports since the 1970s, starting with the ‘Club of Rome’ and ‘Global 2000’ reports and adapted into governmental policy papers. 07. This assumption, again central to liberal democracies, limits further the ability of governments to deal with environmental issues which sometimes comprise a highly scientific matter, on which the experts themselves do not agree, but which necessitate a governmental policy since they involve large sums of money or prohibitions on economic and other activities. 08. Thus incorporating Goodin’s idea into this belief. 09. Allocation of resources to scientific research is of course a prime issue and the affiliation of the funding body to the political decision-makers should be explored. 10. Since, as we hinted before, there is no ‘nature’ in any pristine way, we are locked back into the human-valued system of reference. However, democratic means of setting the order of priority in a politically and economically competitive environment inflicts major damage on the common environment. 11. It might be argued that the poor are likely to suffer more than the rich – for they have no financial resources to move away from polluted areas or get good health care, but this is a difference in degree rather than in substance. It might well necessitate a social justice system to compensate for this difference, which can suggest that social democracy is more equipped to accommodate environmental issues than a free-market liberal democracy.

Part II Reform and Change

4 Greening Liberal Democracy: Practice, Theory and Political Economy1 John Barry

Introduction: the green challenge for and to liberalism It seems to be a more or less settled opinion that green politics is ‘postnot anti-liberal’: as Eckersley maintains, it is ‘decidedly post- rather than anti-liberal’ (Eckersley, 1992, p. 30), a theme shared in much recent green political theorizing (Doherty and de Geus, 1996; Stephens, 1996; Wissenburg, 1998; Barry, 1999b). At the same time, there are those who claim that there are resources within liberalism for addressing the normative and material aspects of problematic social– environmental interaction (Wissenburg, 1998; de-Shalit, 1997; Sagoff, 1988). Given this, and their endorsement of other liberal principles such as pluralism and tolerance, green democratic theory falls within the ambit of theories which seek the ‘preservative transcendence’ of liberalism (Berry, 1986) as opposed to its abolition. At least at the level of political theorizing, there is more of an engagement with ecological concerns and issues within mainstream political theory, including liberalism but not limited to it, than before. What appears to be happening is ‘environmental’ issues such as sustainability, sustainable development, pollution, human treatment of animals, the implications of environmental degradation and resource depletion for present and future generations, and a whole host of other questions are no longer the exclusive preserve (if they ever were) of a ‘green’ ideological perspective. Thus, the compatibility of liberalism with sustainability does not reduce to its compatibility with ostensibly ‘green’ political, economic or moral principles or goals.2 In a sense having asked the questions, the green political and moral position now has to compete with others to provide answers. The question is how much sustainability can liberal democratic theory and practice deliver or, vice versa, how 59

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much or what sorts of sustainability and ecological concern is compatible with liberal democracy? It is also the case that the engagement of green political theory with liberalism is related to the ‘maturing’ of green discourse, as it shifts from ‘critique’ to proposing practicable and attractive alternatives. It is significant to note that this evolution of green politics also turns on the reorientation of its analysis. Firstly, this reorientation focuses on greens advancing an ‘immanent critique’ of modernity and liberal democratic societies as opposed to a ‘utopian’ critique. A key development here, significant for the present paper, is the attention paid to the principle of ‘sustainability’ (its definition and institutionalization), with consequently less attention to prescribing the contours of some future ‘sustainable society’. This partly maps onto a defence of ecological sustainability in terms of the ‘right’ as opposed to the ‘good’ (though this also involves seeing sustainability as equally justifiable on both sorts of grounds). Secondly, there is a discernible move towards ‘transformative’ as opposed to ‘radical/abolitionist’ institutional change. Thirdly, there is a move away from the ‘apocalyptic’ rhetoric of a civilization-threatening (or species-threatening) ‘ecological crisis’ to a less alarmist sense that what human societies are facing is a series of interrelated resource and pollution problems in social–environmental relations with material, economic, social, political and moral dimensions (Barry, 1999b). These developments I suggest make a rapprochement between ‘green’ and ‘liberal’ political views possible, while also opening up the discussion of a liberal democratic approach to the challenge of ecological sustainability. It is within this context, that the relationship between green politics, the challenge of ecological sustainability and the ‘greening’ of liberal democratic theory and practice takes place. Goodin aptly sums up these developments by arguing that, ‘we can presumably live more or less in harmony with nature even in advanced industrial and postindustrial societies, without necessarily dropping out of those societies altogether’, adding in a footnote that ‘the green political agenda would be even more pointless than its worst critic imagines were that not the case’ (Goodin, 1992, p. 119). I take this ‘realistic’ position as the starting point for discussing the shape of liberal democratic sustainable societies. The aim of this chapter is to explore some of the theoretical and practical dimensions of the liberal response to the challenge of sustainability in general and the prospects for the ‘greening of liberalism’ in particular. It is divided into three parts. The following section looks at

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ecological modernization as a real-world example of the greening of liberalism, while the second section explores some of the theoretical resources within liberalism to green itself. The third section looks at some implications for liberal political economy of the greening of liberalism.

‘Greening’ liberal practice: ecological modernization If socialism was ‘organising liberalism’ in Kautsky’s words, then ecological modernization can be viewed as ‘ecologizing liberalism’, though the extent and character of this ‘ecologicalization’ is a moot point (Weale, 1992; Christoff, 1996; Mol, 1996; Barry, 1999b). The basic tenet of ecological modernization is that the zero-sum character of environment–economic trade-offs is more apparent than real. Ecological modernization challenges the idea that improvements in environmental quality or the protection of nature are necessarily inimical to improved economic performance, the fundamental position which dominated early political responses to the ‘environmental crisis’. In this earlier debate the green position was that a steady-state economy, in conjunction with zero population growth, was the only economy–ecology relationship which could ensure long-term sustainability (Daly, 1973). In opposition to this idea, ecological modernization suggests that economic competitiveness is not incompatible with environmental protection; indeed, as Weale points out, ‘environmental protection [is] a … potential source for future growth’ (1992, p. 76). Future economic prospects increasingly depend on achieving and maintaining high standards of environmental protection. Key to this is separating economic growth from rising ecological inputs, especially energy and material inputs (Dobson, 1995; Jacobs, 1996), thus improving the ‘ecological efficiency’ of production. At the same time, ecological modernization is viewed as enhancing rather than reducing the quality of life, and concerned with encouraging green consumption (as well as greener production), rather than calling for radical decreases in consumption. In general terms then, ecological modernization can be viewed as an account of how existing political and economic institutions within liberal democracies have responded to public pressure for governments to ‘do something’ about environmental problems. Ecological modernization for Weale is understood both as a legitimating ideology within certain liberal states’ response to environmental problems, and as a new departure in environmental policy principles (1992, p. 79). As such it can be viewed as marking a new environmental policy discourse from

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within the existing institutions of the liberal state, a form of institutional learning. Its emergence and strength as an ideology lie mainly in its capacity to render the imperative for economic growth compatible with the imperative to protect environmental quality (perfectly in keeping with the ‘supply side’ preference of liberal democracy, i.e. having one’s cake and eating it, without requiring large-scale redistributive policies, or radical socio-economic change). Ecological modernization, particularly when placed within the context of a ‘green welfarism’ or ‘green social democracy’, may, like the emergence of the welfare state before it, be construed as an attempt to politically regulate production (though not necessarily by central state planning and regulation), in response to the socialization of the (environmental) costs of production as a result of ‘market failure’. For example, ‘polluter-pays’ legislation, the precautionary principle, mandatory environmental impact assessments, etc., all of which are central to ecological modernization, can be regarded as ways in which the environmental costs of production are either prevented or ‘internalized’ to some extent. In this way, ecological modernization can be viewed as an ecological dimension to the modern liberal state’s ‘crisis management’ function. In short, ecological modernization is, in large part, a political programme for the state to ‘manage’, ‘steer’ or ‘shape’ (but not fundamentally challenge or seek to reverse, hence its ‘realism’ or ‘pragmatism’) the economic dynamics and trends of an increasingly globalized capitalist economic system on which it depends yet cannot fully control (Jacobs, 1999a; Barry, 1999c; Dryzek, 1996). Economic–ecological planning, regulation and ecological modernization The attraction and necessity of planning and coordination can be seen as partly to do with the search for integrated policy approaches to dealing with environmental problems (Weale, 1992, pp. 93–118). Following Dryzek, the problem is that a purely political or economic ‘solution’ to an environmental problem more often than not simply displaces it rather than solves it (1987, pp. 10–11). Displacement can cross media (water pollution to solid waste pollution), space (exporting pollution), time (to future generations) or from one institution to another (externalities from the economy being passed to the political sphere) or within an institution (from one department to another). There is thus a gap between these ‘solutions’ to ecological problems and ecological solutions. Thus while it may be economically or politically rational, in the short term, to pollute the environment in excess of its ability to

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assimilate that level of pollution, it is clearly not ecologically rational in terms of the environment’s capacity to sustain non-decreasing levels of human (and non-human) welfare or well-being. Planning for sustainability can be thought of as analogous to decision-making under conditions of uncertainty. Sustainability planning in this context is more about the avoidance of undesirable (unsustainable) outcomes, than the achievement of any particular outcome. Given the uncertainty which characterizes environmental problems, any environmental planning will necessarily have to be flexible, sensitive to ecological feedback and not cause irreversible ecological changes. To use Beck’s (1992a) terminology, what is required is a ‘reflexive’ and flexible form of collective regulation understood as a social learning process as well as an exercise in social–ecological adaptation. For Weale the planning aspect of ecological modernization begins from the recognition that, ‘If national planning is shunned, its alternative will have to be invented’ (Weale, 1992, p. 149). At the same time, clear, public planning and regulation can encourage and improve environmental innovation, often more effectively than reliance on ‘voluntary’ or market mechanisms (Ashford, 1993). An important feature of ecological modernization is its attitude to the ‘free market’. Although a self-regulating market economy may deliver an optimum allocation of resources within the economy (from the point of view of orthodox economic efficiency), it is unlikely to result in an optimum scale of the economy relative to its environment. According to Daly and Cobb, ‘Environmental degradation must be shown to result from the scale of the economy in general, rather than only from allocative mistakes that can be corrected while throughput continues to grow exponentially’ (1990, p. 368, emphasis added). An unregulated market may increase the scale of the economy beyond that which the environment can sustain. The problem with orthodox economic theory in this respect is that a Pareto-optimal allocation of resources does not say anything about the ecological sustainability of the scale of resource use. The need for political, state regulation of a market organized economy is, as Dryzek notes, because ‘markets are addicted to economic growth … market systems are unique in possessing an acute need for continuous growth’ (1987, p. 72). Here, there is a hiatus within ecological modernization between offering a more ecologically sustainable form of economic growth, or whether it constitutes an alternative to orthodox economic growth. However, the important point to note is that the regulation, planning and other forms of state intervention envisaged in the ecological modernization model relate first and foremost to

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the scale of the metabolism between the human economy and the ecological processes and inputs upon which it depends. That is, it is concerned with the macro-level management of the economy–ecology metabolism, not micro-level economic activity per se. The planning element of ecological modernization can be understood negatively. According to Meadowcroft ‘planning for sustainable development’ could be understood as ‘the planned adjustment of social practices and institutions in order to ensure avoidance of unsustainable social trajectories’ … or [it] might be defined as ‘a conscious process of social choice to select and realise a preferred, and sustainable, development trajectory’ (1997, p. 171, emphasis in original). In some ways, a defensive view of sustainability (avoidance of unsustainable forms of social development) is in keeping with the interpretation of ecological modernization as the extension of the ‘crisis management’ function of the liberal state to ecological problems. It also seems to fit with ecological modernization as linked to the aim of achieving ‘weak’ as opposed to ‘strong’ sustainability (Pearce et al., 1989), in which a central political aim is to find more ecologically sustainable means to more or less existing ends. That is, the ‘reformist’ character of ecological modernization is, in part, tied to its principal concern with securing the ecological–economic means to given ends, as opposed to regarding the interrogation of the various ends that these means are used to realize as a necessary part of the search for ecological sustainability. In practice the liberal democratic approach to ecological sustainability (understood as ‘sustainable development’) simply sees ‘development’ as something ‘given’ (where development is often closely identified as ‘progress’, ‘globalization’ or the like) while attention is given to how best to find more ecologically sustainable means of fulfilling that ‘given’ development path. As Meadowcroft points out in his discussion of national sustainable development plans: The essential focus of these national sustainable development plans is the environment and environmental sustainability. ‘Development’ is considered as an ongoing and largely exogenously determined process, which may to some degree be steered, but whose environmental consequences must in any case be managed. (1997, p. 180, emphasis added) Raising the issue of the ‘development’ side of sustainable development is closer to the ideas of Beck (1992a) and radical greens who suggest that development and progress need to be viewed as endogenous

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variables rather than as exogenously given. Beck, for example, suggests that ecological sustainability requires the reconceptualization of ‘progress’ such that the democratic (or self-reflexive) determination of what counts as ‘social progress’ or ‘development’ is itself viewed as a constitutive aspect of a more ecologically rational form of social progress or development. In a sense, what Beck is suggesting is that sustainable development requires a collective, democratic reflection on what type of society we are to be, rather than simply questioning the economic–ecological means by which the present social order and its underlying dynamics is sustained. Beck seems to be saying that what needs to be done is for ‘society’ to ask itself not ‘what should we do?’, but rather ‘what sort of society do we want to live in?’ However, it is plain that such a radical proposal, which at root expresses the claim that the ecological problems of (liberal) democracy can be solved by more democracy, with the aim of collectively and consciously choosing to redesign and restructure liberal democratic societies, is not a realistic option in the present political climate. It is perhaps more practically useful to view ecological sustainability defensively or negatively: that is, to attempt to rule out particular sorts of development or modernization paths rather than prescriptively determine one particular sustainable development path. The point is that there is no one development path for society that is sustainable, and thus no determinate set of social, economic or political institutions which constitute ‘the sustainable society’ contra the ideological claims of ecologism. Neither science nor metaphysics can authoritatively determine one particular sustainable development path or how best to institutionalize it, and thus it is a matter of political judgement rather than expert knowledge or religious/spiritual revelation as to what ecological sustainability means. As such, this negative interpretation of ‘ecological sustainability’ is in keeping with liberal scepticism regarding the liberty-threatening potentials of determinate, prescriptive accounts of social change. However, it would be a mistake to see ecological modernization in purely institutional or technical terms. For some, ecological modernization can also be seen as a form of ‘green welfare republicanism’ in the sense that it demands a ‘virtue-based’ conception of citizenship, a reconceptualization of the relationships between state, civil society and individuals as citizens and consumers, one in which citizen duties are as important as citizen rights in the collective aim of achieving and maintaining sustainability (Weale, 1992, pp. 150–1). Thus, on the one hand, ecological modernization is viewed by critics as a bureaucratic ‘crisis management’ approach by the liberal state to

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costly ecological externalities which will not deliver sustainability because it does not deal with the root cause of ecological degradation, namely economic growth. On the other hand, others suggest that ecological modernization marks a positive new development in liberal democracy, one which seeks to pursue sustainability goals without the (green) ideological and negative baggage of associating those goals with diminished aspirations for material advancement, consumption and modern lifestyles, and radical social and cultural transformation. A central part of this is the emergence of ‘social liberal’ themes within a green social democratic framework, and an emphasis on firmly linking the environmental agenda as congruent with, and indeed a constitutive part of, ‘modernity’ and ‘modernization’. However, at the end of the day, whether ecological modernization succeeds in combining sustainability and economic growth is an empirical question. Its promise of combining continued economic modernization, growth, consumption and so on with improved environmental protection is an attractive one to states, supra-state institutions such as the EU and to the overwhelming majority of citizens in liberal democracies.

Greening liberal theory Theoretically the ‘greening’ of liberal democracy requires that one distinguishes between ‘classical’ or economic liberalism and ‘social liberal’ traditions, as suggested by de-Shalit (1997). If one is interested in developing a ‘green liberalism’, or more minimally in ‘greening liberalism’, one has to distinguish between the social liberalism of J. S. Mill and others and the ‘classical liberalism’ associated with libertarianism and forms of liberalism which are intrinsically, as opposed to contingently or instrumentally, tied to capitalism (such as ‘neoliberalism’). de-Shalit divides the liberal tradition between mainstream American liberalism … based on the values of neutrality, minimal state intervention, an opposition to regulations, and a concept of politics as an aggregate of autonomous decisions – all of which are antithetical to environmental policies. The other interpretation, sometimes called ‘social liberalism’, is not hostile to advancing certain ideas of the good (for example, conservation) and is more open to state intervention. (1997, p. 88) In agreement with him, I suggest that the greening or ecologizing of liberalism requires that the liberalism in question be of the ‘social’ rather than the ‘classical/libertarian’ kind. In particular, the shape of

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liberal democratic sustainable societies will, I suggest, be determined, in large part, on whether and how the political and social regulation of the economy (particularly the global economy) is achieved and institutionalized for ecological and social purposes. At root this requires the separation of political institutions and values of liberal democracy from the capitalist, market based organization of the economy within a liberal society. This separation is, I argue, a necessary condition for sustainable liberal democratic societies. However, in keeping with many others in this volume (Wissenburg, Hayward, Achterberg, de Geus), there are resources and themes within the liberal tradition which render it compatible with ecological concerns in general, and indeed some specifically green ones in particular. The precautionary principle, risk and harm: neutrality and the ‘greening’ of liberalism In liberal theory the operation of the ‘harm principle’ is closely related to the principle of liberal neutrality, as offering a justification of state intervention in the ‘private sphere’. It is intimately related both to the recognition of ‘harm’ (to the individual him or herself and others, and can be extended to include future generations), and the overarching principle of state neutrality and impartiality with regard to views of the good and protecting the negative liberty of the individual. It is important to note that sustainability, as outlined earlier, operates at the macro-level of the economy, though of course this will have effects at the individual level. However, the application of the harm principle is tied with the question of establishing the existence of harm which in turn is related to verifying the cause of the harm. Even if the ‘ecological’ ‘doom and gloom’ projections about ecological catastrophe are misleading, but the costs of not adopting a ‘strong’ view of sustainability are potentially great, then it is not unreasonable to act on imperfect information. Indeed, one could say that given our lack of knowledge about economic–ecological interactions, the precautionary principle approximates a real-world Rawlsian ‘veil of ignorance’. The reality is that the effects (particularly long term) of large-scale human interventions in natural processes are associated with high degrees of unpredictability and probability (Faber et al., 1992). Indeed, it is important to note that one of the main sources of knowledge and information on the effects of human activity on natural processes, ecological science, is explanatory rather than predictive. The precautionary principle has come to be seen as an appropriate principle governing environmental policy-making under conditions of

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uncertainty and against a background of heightened public sensitivity to ‘risk’ (Beck, 1992a). According to O’Riordan and Jordan, ‘At the core of the precautionary principle is the intuitively simple idea that decision makers should act in advance of scientific certainty to protect the environment (and with it the well-being interests of future generations) from incurring harm’ (1995, p. 194). Hence there is a direct link between liberalism and environmental concerns on the basis of the ‘harm principle’. The precautionary principle (like the harm principle, from which it is derived) can be used to justify legitimate state intervention in ostensibly ‘private’ matters, though it is important to note that more often than not, ‘private’ means corporate economic activity rather than the individual citizen’s privacy per se. Coglianese (1998) offers a recent example of the relationship between liberal neutrality and environmental policy, and in particular the liberal fear of partiality and excessive state interference in the lives of individual citizens as a result of environmental regulation. His starting point is that: Environmental policies can and sometimes do affect important aspects of life in ways that constrain individuals’ ability to pursue their own plans for a meaningful life. Environmental regulations not only affect the prices of products that individuals may purchase, but can also restrict the types of foods, drinks, medicines and other goods that individuals may enjoy. They can restrain individual uses of private property. (1998, p. 42) It is interesting to note how the liberty and well-being enhancing effects of environmental policy-making are not considered, nor is there a recognition that the ‘private sphere’ interfered with does not so much relate to the ‘private individual’ or citizen, but the ‘private sphere’ of the macroeconomy and the operation of economic actors, industrial sectors, corporations and so on. But then Coglianese fits the ‘American liberal’ profile, outlined by de-Shalit above, more concerned with establishing the liberty-harming effects of state intervention (particularly in the economy) than anything else. However, despite this ideological handicap, he does manage to raise some interesting points regarding the relationship between liberal neutrality and state environmental policy-making and regulation. His argument is that ‘a commitment to neutrality requires environmental policy to aim toward the maintenance of the varied resources needed to support diversity in individual lives … neutrality that ultimately environmental policy respect individuals and preserve a

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multiplicity of resource uses’ (1998, p. 43). In common with many other libertarians, he is committed to a generally techno-optimistic outlook, a belief in orthodox science and technology (often used as a ‘supply side’ strategy to circumvent considerations of intergenerational justice (Barry, 1999b)) and stresses the central importance of establishing causality in discussing the application of the ‘harm’ principle. As he states, ‘The degree of uncertainty over environmental harms suggests that in some cases the harm principle may be only minimally to weakly satisfied’ (1998, p. 49). According to this logic, one has to firmly establish the causal relationship between ‘environmental degradation’ and ‘human harm’ before the neutrality of the state can be squared with legitimate state intervention. The presumption of having to ‘prove harm’ over ‘disproving harm’/‘proving harmlessness’ is one that greens have found problematic, not least because it appears arbitrary to demand the former over the latter. The precautionary principle offers a challenge to Coglianese’s conceptualization of liberal neutrality and environmental regulation, particularly with regard to establishing ‘harm’ in some legalistic sense of ‘beyond reasonable doubt’. The precautionary principle picks up on this idea of ‘reasonable doubt’ and builds upon it within the context of conditions of uncertainty. As O’Riordan and Jordan put it: Precaution challenges the established scientific method; it tests the application of cost-benefit analysis in those areas where it is undoubtedly weakest (i.e. situations where environmental damage may be irreversible or potentially catastrophic), it calls for changes to established legal principles and practices such as liability, compensation and burden of proof. (1995, p. 193) According to Coglianese, ‘a multiple-use management approach appears to be a paradigm of a liberally neutral environmental policy’ (1998, p. 51). Multiple-use might be viewed as the preferred outcome from a liberal neutrality position as opposed to an a priori or principled disposition either for or against the ‘development’ or ‘preservation’ of the environment. As it stands it is not difficult to see why such a principle would appeal to liberal environmental governance, since it seeks to ensure a plurality of uses for environmental resources (and associated views of the good), rather than stipulating one particular use (or non-use). Much like the ecological modernization model, a state policy of multiple use seeks to have as many goods as possible (the fruits of economic growth, development and environmental quality and protection),

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or rather not to unnecessarily privilege or favour some views of the good over others. But of course, this ‘multiple use’ principle of liberal environmental management will not work in all cases, particularly in cases of irreversible environmental change and large-scale developments with correspondingly large-scale environmental degradation, and in cases where the possible environmental risks or costs are serious. With regard to normative disagreements, which are common in environmental politics, a multiple-use approach will not work in cases where the fundamental moral issue is between whether a ‘natural resource’ is used or not (or indeed, moral conflict over whether to view and value some natural entity or process as a ‘resource’ in the first place), rather than about the manner in which it is to be used. However, the application of the precautionary principle does challenge liberal neutrality qua ‘multiple use’ in that whether or not the state decides on one form of environmental regulation over another (or whether it decides to regulate at all) is not based on a ‘presumption’ of the ‘environmental innocence’ of all forms of environment-changing development. In this respect the precautionary principle represents a potentially strong principle of environmental protection in which the tables are turned such that orthodox ‘development’ interests have to disprove environmental damage rather than ‘environmentalist’ interests having to prove ecological harm. In some, though not all, cases of conflict between ‘development’ and ‘environmental’ interests, the state cannot be neutral, or rather the precautionary principle acts to qualify its prima facie impartiality/neutrality in the public interest in immediate avoidance of ‘ecological harm’, or where it bases its decision on some idea of the ‘common interest’ (or considerations of intergenerational justice, and the avoidance of future harm). The precautionary principle may thus operate as a decision-making principle that is compatible with a concern for intergenerational justice, particularly where ‘critical natural capital’ is concerned, to use Pearce’s terminology (1989), that is forms of ‘natural capital’ that cannot be replaced, substituted or compensated for by an equivalent amount of ‘human capital’. Decision-making regarding ‘non-critical natural capital’ seems to be the most appropriate aspect of environmental decision-making for a multiple-use approach. A liberal interpretation of the precautionary principle seems to move in the direction of rejecting any a priori disposition for or against development or preservation, by (being typically liberal and) opting for both in the form of insisting on ‘multiple use’ of the particular environmental resource or conflict in question. At root, the ‘multiple use’

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principle of liberal environmental management assumes that such a compromise is socially sustainable in the sense that the different groups and views of the good associated with the different uses can tolerate one another and accept the ‘compromises’ and the ‘give and take’ required by the decision-making process – that is have a common respect for the liberal political institutional structure of society and its procedures for conflict resolution in environmental matters. The precautionary principle seems to fit the ‘negative’ or defensive logic of liberalism (which is related to the neutrality demand), since the principle is about ruling out certain forms of decisions and environmental uses, not the stipulation of a particular set. It also has the intuitively and popular appeal of being ‘commonsensical’, and thus might form an important function in providing democratic legitimacy for environmental decision-making by public authorities. It can also be seen as a collective-denying ordinance, for long-term collective interest. It is particularly suited to decision-making under conditions of incomplete, imperfect or conflicting information or knowledge. On this view, the precautionary principle can be seen as a modern, collective version of the virtue of prudence, acting as a ‘coping mechanism’ for dealing with the dynamic, ever-changing and unpredictable relationship between human societies and their ecological bases (hence why it is central to any process of institutional ecological ‘self-reflexivity’ such as Beck’s (1992a)). This principle expresses in a modern legal form the virtue of prudence in respect to human uses (and abuses) of the environment. It strengthens the case for environmental preservation and the regulation of economic–ecological interaction. The precautionary principle and the role of the state in implementing it, typically within the context of environment versus development disputes, stress the need for discrimination and careful consideration when faced with development proposals. Thus the precautionary principle is not anti-development per se, nor is it pro-preservation, since development is always possible so long as it does not violate ecological sustainability. However, the main point here is that effective and prudential ecological management requires such ex ante policy principles, like the precautionary one, an aim of which is to possibly prevent environmental problems from arising in the first place, as opposed to exclusively ex post, compensatory ones. The integration of the precautionary principle within liberal theory and practice offers a way in which a note of humility can be introduced into the relationship between human societies and their ecological systems. It tempers the ecological vice of human ‘arrogance’ or ‘hubris’ vis-à-vis nature, without rejecting anthropocentrism. Above all

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the precautionary principle recognizes that ‘limits to knowledge’ are just as important as ‘limits to growth’ in analysing social–environmental interaction, and developing appropriate principles (and institutions) to cope with the difficulties, changes and problems associated with that interaction. From private property to ecological stewardship? The case of land ownership The harm principle, extended to non-human entities or to future generations, may be used not only to justify state regulation or intervention of ostensibly ‘private’ activities on liberal grounds, but also as a possible justification for redefining and reconceptualizing the notion of private property in land and in relation to ecological processes. The harm principle may be used to push liberalism in a more radical direction than ecological modernization. At the same time this is obviously another aspect of the ‘disembedding’ of political liberalism from ‘economic liberalism’ or unfettered, self-regulating market organization of production, distribution and consumption. One of the key relations of a self-regulating market economy, together with prices allocating resources and market outcomes determining the scale of the economy relative to its ecological base, is private property. In liberal economic theory it is on grounds of economic efficiency (viewed in terms of productivity and economic growth) that private property is favoured and promoted. Private property has also been a central part of liberal political theory, usually on the grounds that it offers the individual property-owner a sphere protected from state interference, promoting individual responsibility, autonomy and self-determination. However, as Wissenburg (1998) points out, even within liberal democracy, private property is viewed as absolute or beyond public, political regulation. In this section, I wish to explore the notion of private property from an environmental perspective in respect to land ownership. In environmental debate it is land as private property that often has been at the forefront of the theoretical and real-world conflicts between market and non-market approaches to environmental issues. On the one hand there is the ‘free market environmentalist’ position in which the standard solution to environmental problems is the privatization of land and other ecological resources where environmental quality and sustainability are determined by market considerations in which the land-owner’s self-interest is central to how the land is used and treated (Anderson and Leal, 1991). On the other hand there are non-market strategies which either tend towards state regulation

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and/or ownership of the land (Jacobs, 1995) or those which propose some version of a ‘commons regime’ approach to land ownership and use (Ecologist, 1992). From the point of view of environmental sustainability understood as a public good and premised on the ‘harm principle’, there is evidence of a redefinition of private ownership of the land within liberal democratic practice. In particular, one can see in the growth in state regulation of land use a shift away from a conception of the land as private property towards a notion of the land as common property, or at least not as the exclusive private property of the legal owner. As Varner puts it: ‘As environmental laws and regulations proliferate, we increasingly treat land as a public resource owned in common and held by individuals only in a stewardship (or trust) capacity’ (1994, p. 143). This idea of land/ecological stewardship is, I suggest, a central aspect of ecological sustainability, both normatively and practically, and can be understood in two related senses. On the one hand is the view of stewardship as indicating a relation to the land in terms other than private ownership, where the land is viewed as the exclusive property of an individual and which he or she (or it) has the right to dispose of as they see fit. The idea of stewardship here concerns its ‘other-relatedness’ in the sense that decisions about how this ‘property’ is to be viewed, used and treated extend beyond the self-interest of a private owner and towards the set of interests affected in the particular practice of stewardship in question. On the other hand, stewardship captures the future-orientated character of ecological sustainability, the view of stewardship as a particular relation to the land in which maintaining and improving long-term productive human–nature interaction is central. From an ecological perspective this notion of land ownership and use has been displaced by a narrow economic view of the land as a private property resource in which considerations of long-term sustainability often have little part to play in land management decisions. Increasingly the need to take a less narrow economic view of the land (qua economic resource) and regard it from a wider ecological context has been proposed as a necessary part of ecological sustainability. It is on this point that we can see the ‘greening’ of liberal democratic environmental policy, following the spirit, if not the letter, of Aldo Leopold’s famous ‘Land Ethic’. According to him: The ‘key-log’ which must be moved to release the evolutionary process of an ethic is simply this: quit thinking about decent land-use

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as solely an economic problem. Examine each question in terms of what is ethically and esthetically right as well as what is economically expedient. A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise. It of course goes without saying that economic feasibility limits the tether of what can or cannot be done for land. It always has and it always will. (Leopold, 1968, p. 224, emphasis added) Unfortunately, it is the sentences between the italicized sections that have received the most attention in most discussions of Leopold. However, a less narrow assessment of Leopold’s ‘Land Ethic’ seems to fit with the ‘multiple use’ principle of liberal environmental policy and management. The important point to note is that, contrary to many ideological green interpretations (particularly deep ecology and ecocentrism), Leopold’s land ethic does not underwrite a ‘hands-off’ relation between humans and the land and a rejection of human (economic) interests in favour of ecocentric ones. Rather the ‘Land Ethic’ recognizes that a less short-sighted (i.e. more sustainable) relation to the land requires the integration of human and economic considerations within a social–ecological context of intentional, productive relations between particular humans and particular environments. Ecological stewardship does not necessarily require the rejection of human economic–productive uses of the land, and ecocentrics are not the only possible stewards of the land. An anthropocentric ecological management position is something that I think is evident in the redefinition of land ownership as private property as a result of the liberal democratic state’s response to environmental problems and interests. Partly as a result of the socialization (externalization) of the ecological costs of particular forms of land use and management, increased state regulation of the land recognizes the fact that land use has an ecological dimension in which the effects of particular local land uses can have wider, ecological effects which go beyond the individual land-owner. In short, an ecological conception of ‘harm’ highlights the fact that ‘private’, unregulated use of ecological resources can result, more often than not, in ecological harm. Varner sums up this ecological challenge to the notion of private land ownership. According to him: Increasingly, taking an ecological view of land forces us to treat it as a public resource that individuals hold only in stewardship (or trust) capacity. Any and every piece of land is involved in diverse ecological

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processes, and any and every form of land use affects those processes to some extent … My conclusion is that the eclipse of land as private property is near at hand … in this age of ecological literacy we have discovered that land uses depend so heavily on ecological infrastructure – on processes that, if they are property at all, are inherently public property – that it hardly makes sense to conceive of land as private property. (Varner, 1994, p. 158) The important point here from a liberal position is to note how much mileage the standard ‘harm principle’, when placed in an ecological context, can underwrite proactive state intervention (such as the ecological modernization model), justified on the grounds of the land (and wider ecological processes upon which it depends and contributes to) as common property rather than private property.3 The idea of the land (and wider ecological systems) as common property also highlights the way in which these social–ecological relations create webs of interdependence between humans (and non-humans), so that individual, private decisions in ecological matters have such wider collective effects that they cannot be considered as ‘private’ and therefore immune from public, political or state regulation. Indeed, this point can be taken further by showing how individual consumption decisions have public and ecological ramifications, and part of the shift towards sustainability involves being aware of and responsible for those consumption decisions. The separation of ownership and use seems to be a clear implication of an ecological view of how to sustainably manage the land, in which ‘private’ ownership and use is subsequent to and ‘nested within’ the collective interest of avoiding or minimizing ‘ecological harm’.

Greening liberal political economy My starting point here is that the western liberal position has been premised on a pro-economic growth perspective from Locke to Rawls. Given that ecological sustainability within liberal democracies would result in some drop in ‘economic growth’ and production as conventionally understood, is a non-growth orientated liberalism possible or desirable? This is particularly important for the liberal theory of social justice in which, from Adam Smith’s adage that ‘A rising tide raises all boats’ to Rawls’s difference principle, a key aspect of liberal social justice hinges on ensuring a growing economy and rising levels of material affluence and wealth. For Tocqueville, economic growth was a

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necessary and not just a desirable feature of (liberal) democracy. According to him: General prosperity is favourable to the stability of all governments, but more particularly of a democratic one, which depends upon the will of the majority, and especially upon the will of that portion of the community which is most exposed to want. When the people rule, they must be rendered happy or they will overturn the state: and misery stimulates them to those excesses to which ambition rouses kings. (Tocqueville, 1956, pp. 129–30, emphasis added) If prosperity is essential to the stability of liberal democracy (which is what Tocqueville was discussing) the corollary of this is that a lack of prosperity would lead to instability and perhaps undermine the democratic political order. This argument was used by ‘eco-authoritarians’ to justify non-democratic, authoritarian government as the only political solution to the ‘ecological crisis’, viewed as a return to scarcity on account of ‘limits to growth’. While not doubting the social disruption and problems that a drop in material standards of living may bring, social order need not be threatened by this so long as the costs are shared equitably throughout the whole society. Thus there is an intrinsic connection between arguments for ecological sustainability and social or distributive justice. Indeed politically speaking this is likely to be the most important part of any transition to a more sustainable society. In all likelihood it is only if some members of society are forced to accept lower material standards relative to others that severe social disharmony will emerge. A more contentious question to ask here is whether the general liberal predisposition in favour of ‘development’ over ‘environmental preservation’ is based on some particular liberal idea of ‘progress’, some foundational commitment to multiplying choices and possible views of the good available to individuals. Is liberalism suspicious of environmental issues and claims on the grounds that they are perceived as limiting choices and views of the good life (regardless, ceteris paribus, of their ‘intrinsic value’ or ‘worthiness’)?4 On this basis, one may be in a better position to understand the liberal commitment to ‘development’, economic growth, modernization and so on (both historically and today) as rooted in the capacity of this model of ‘development’ to deliver more choices and multiply views of the good than the environmentalist alternative (which is often associated with a return to some pre-liberal/pre-Enlightenment/pre-industrial social order). That is, the

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connection between liberal democracy and capitalist economic organization orientated towards a particular industrial model of ‘development’ may have a normative justification based on the greater possible and actual plurality of views of the good associated with this model as opposed to others. A less radical position than the ‘no-growth’ scenario associated with the ‘eco-authoritarians’ and Daly’s (1973) ‘steady-state economy’ perspective, is Jacobs’s (1996) proposals concerning altering the environmental impact and pattern of goods and services produced, and their mode of consumption. Jacobs (1996) suggests a shift from ‘economic growth’, understood as year-on-year increases in personal disposal income and consumption levels, to an emphasis on public investment and public goods as contributing to well-being. According to him: A more sustainable economy would have higher investment; it is unlikely to have higher private consumption. Where additional consumption is required it will often have to be in the public sector, on goods such as public transport, environmental protection, health care and education … sustainability probably does mean that the era of taken-forgranted exponential consumption growth is at an end. ( Jacobs, 1996, pp. 33–5, emphasis added) Once again, one is struck by how much this seems to move us towards a ‘socialization of consumption’ to match the socialization of production (qua state regulation of private enterprises) under an ecologically modernizing liberal state. Such a reorientation of production and consumption also echoes Mill’s positive endorsement of the ‘stationary state’ in his Principles of Political Economy. Of course, such a strategy of regulating production and consumption towards public investment, without necessarily being opposed to the production and consumption of marketable private goods and services and a less unequal distribution of the latter, would push liberal democracy still further from a purely capitalist organization of the economy (though not necessarily towards a nonmarket, state-planned economy). It is also important to note that a shift towards public forms of consumption does not imply the abolition of private consumption. Theoretically as well as empirically, having some reasonable level of private consumption seems to be a necessary condition for the appropriate use and enjoyment of public goods. According to Ernest Gellner, echoing Tocqueville’s statement above, ‘Liberty has ridden to victory on the back of consumerism … But it would be folly to be confident that all this must necessarily continue.

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There are dangers ahead for affluence-sustained liberty’ (1995, p. 29). But how true is this, and to what extent is ‘liberty’ necessarily ‘affluence-sustained’? The challenge for liberal theory (and practice) depends on whether the transition to ecological sustainability will necessarily result in liberty-threatening decreases in individual levels of material affluence, or whether it will require some change in overall material affluence and a change in the overall pattern of how material affluence is produced, distributed and consumed. Does a decline in mass consumption necessarily threaten liberty? What liberties are ecologically unsustainable? Or what liberties are threatened in the emergence of a liberal welfare state less orientated towards maintaining and supporting increasing individual consumption levels?5

Conclusion In conclusion, then, a ‘liberal’ view of sustainability is necessarily a ‘negative’ or defensive one, such that it is conceived as avoiding unsustainable development or modernization paths rather than prescribing a particular development path. As far as possible, a liberal approach to sustainability seeks ‘win–win’ strategies, avoiding the ‘zero-sum’ implications of sustainability by seeking to ‘do more with less’. It tries, as in the ecological modernization model, to maintain (and perhaps extend) the range of views of the good (ends) through a state-managed process of ‘greener production’ (means). The aim of a liberal (as opposed to, say, a deep ecological or ecocentric) approach to sustainability is not to opt for the a priori protection of nature over its productive use by humans, but rather to ‘keep in check the destructiveness that progress requires’ (Soltan, 1995, p. 15), while also seeking views of progress which minimize the destruction of the natural world. However, at some point the liberal state (and society) may have to move beyond the issue of how to ‘manage’ development or progress (aided by ecological management strategies such as the precautionary principle and an ecologized notion of the ‘harm principle’) and directly address the normative content of progress and development itself as a necessary aspect of the transition away from ecological unsustainability. It may be that the issue of sustainability is not simply related to ‘supply side’ questions of limited amounts of ecological inputs (energy, materials and assimilate capacity), but also has to do with the more difficult political problem of ‘excess demand’, something which liberal democracies have seemed unable to address, except in

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extraordinary circumstances such as wartime. Lacking a strong sense of collective purpose, modern liberal democratic polities are in large part held together by a common commitment to economic growth, prosperity and mass consumption. If the transition to a more sustainable liberal democracy requires the political regulation of consumption as well as production, this does not mean the abandoning of liberal democracy, but it does seem to indicate the emergence of a more social democratic liberalism, a central part of which seems to be the separation of political liberalism from economic liberalism.

Notes 1. I would like to thank all the participants at the ECPR workshop, and Marcel Wissenburg in particular, for helpful comments on this chapter. 2. A similar argument, for the ‘de-greening’ of the environment as a policy subject, has recently been made by Jacobs in respect of the ‘Third Way’ of the British ‘New’ Labour Party (1999a, pp. 4–13). 3. However, it is not the case that private property rights are necessarily suspect from an ecological point of view, though an ecological view of private property does require a less exclusive view of private property and a more conditional view of property as a ‘right of access or use’ as opposed to an exclusive right to use and dispose of property as the owner sees fit. Sometimes assigning property rights in this way can deliver a more sustainable use of a particular resource. An example of this is Brubaker. Discussing property relations and environmental management regimes, Brubaker states that: ‘A number of countries have assigned property rights to inland and ocean fisheries … Confident that their rights to fish are secure, fishermen need not waste money building bigger boats and equipping them with more advanced gear in a race to catch fish’ (1995, p. 211, emphasis added). A result of this would be a more sustainable harvesting of the renewable fish stock, as opposed to the stock itself being ‘mined’ and overfished. Thus confidence that one can sustain a decent level of well-being can offset attempts to boost appropriation caused by economic insecurity as a result of competition within an ‘open access’ situation. However, this is not to say that a strategy of assigning individual property rights of use is the only possible or desirable approach to ‘open access’ resources. ‘Commons regimes’ can also deliver sustainable use. 4. According to Allison (1991), from a ‘utilitarian-cum-liberal/libertarian’ perspective, the ‘real’ basis of much of the green critique of modern society is not based on ecological considerations of sustainability, but rather on a moral, puritan disapproval of the dominant ways of life pursued. He ends his polemic against ‘radical greens’ with the view that ‘Meat must go because it obviously means so much to people. So must motor cars and competitive sport … Such radicalism is the revenge of the unhappy: it is premised on a hatred of life and driven by malice. Uniquely, from a utilitarian stand-point, it deserves the name evil’ (1991, p. 178, emphasis in original). While clearly an extremist position, this ‘voice of reason’ does perhaps express an exaggerated sense of the liberal suspicion of the motives and implications of green politics.

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5. The normative underpinnings of ecological sustainability (even in its less radical guise as sustainable development) challenges this economic logic of liberalism by introducing the distinction between ‘luxuries’ and ‘needs’ (particularly with regard to obligations of intergenerational justice). As Hubbard notes, using an ecological version of the ‘harm principle’ in discussing the implications of the ‘limits to growth’ for Rawls’s theory of justice, ‘where significant risk of serious injury to ourselves and our heirs is part of the price of luxuries for the present generation, then the primary issue of distributive justice is the maximum a society and a person should have, not the minimum’ (1978, p. 344). The upshot of this for liberalism is whether distribution according to needs (or at least the political regulation of the definition, production and consumption of ‘luxuries’) within the context of ‘constrained’ economic growth (as conventionally understood) is possible within the present capitalist organization of production, distribution and consumption. While a ‘nongrowth’ or ‘post-growth’ political liberalism seems at least theoretically possible (though Tocqueville and Gellner would disagree), a ‘post-growth’ capitalism seems an oxymoron.

5 Democracy and Sustainability: Aspects of Efficiency, Legitimacy and Integration Nicos Labaras

Introduction Is sustainability a coherent and useful concept? Is it essentially a normative concept and, if so, is it compatible with the values of liberal democracy? Is it possible to develop an account of its dimensions by using the values of liberal democracy as a binding interpretative framework? What does this process involve and what are its implications for the values and institutions of the political system? This chapter attempts to approach these questions through a critical discussion of the arguments developed by four influential approaches: free market environmentalism (Anderson and Leal, 1991), the constant capital approach (Pearce et al., 1989), ecological economics ( Jacobs, 1991) and ecological modernization (Weale, 1992). Even though these approaches adopt conflicting interpretations of the political system’s values and function and couple them with equally conflicting views on sustainability, they do share three characteristics that may facilitate our discussion. Firstly, they all accept the institutional-normative framework of liberal democracy as a binding one for their interpretations of sustainability. Next, even though they represent rival environmental discourses (Dryzek, 1997), it may be argued that they all take part in the debate on sustainable development. In a broad sense, their arguments have been developed with reference to the dominance of this discourse. Finally, notwithstanding their conflicting views regarding the sustainable development discourse, they all seem to share in common a minimal conception of sustainability. A consensus on a minimal conception of sustainability can be shown to exist if we abstract from particular dimensions of the concept of sustainable development. In the context of the approaches we examine, 81

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the core meaning of sustainable development includes a positive account of the relation between environmental protection and economic development and emphasizes the non-financial welfare components of the latter. However, it also includes the aim of preserving the ‘natural capital stock’ over time, an aim linked with the achievement of intergenerational equity. Sustainability loses its form as a vague and unspecified physical side-constraint to human development and emerges as a normative principle if we abstract from the controversial issue of the institutional arrangements for integrating environmental concerns in the economy and the wider welfare implications of economic development. While the precise policy implications of sustainability vary in the context of each of these approaches, I believe that adopting the minimal normative conception is a useful starting point for our discussion. This move allows us to focus on the rival definitions offered regarding the normative framework and function of democracy. This is quite significant because in the context of the debate we examine, the values and institutions of liberal democracy do not constitute the starting point for the interpretation of sustainability. It may be argued that both concepts are interpreted in the context of the wider analytical accounts these approaches offer regarding the nature and dimensions of environmental problems, the institutions responsible for their emergence and those responsible for their successful regulation. Thus the adoption of the minimal definition of sustainability allows us to reconstruct the definitions of democracy offered by these approaches and assess the way they are coupled with the precise policy implications of sustainability. The minimal normative conception of sustainability is also helpful because it may assist us to develop a critical account of these approaches. Essentially, we are examining different interpretations of the way alternative conceptions of liberal democracy can or should tackle the question of how to preserve the natural capital stock and achieve intergenerational equity. The present debate has identified two significant questions in relation to this interpretation, which essentially refer to the implications of the environmental problematic for the political economy. The first one refers to the development of a coherent, efficient and comprehensive mode of integrating environmental concerns in economic activity. This question has been identified in the context of some approaches with the aim of securing economic efficiency, while others point out that a sustainable union between the economy and the environment implies radical structural changes in the economy.

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The second question relates to the purely political implications of this integration and mainly refers to its legitimacy. In the context of some approaches this question has been identified with assessing the compatibility between this mode of integration and the values of the political system. Other approaches point out the wide public concern regarding environmental problems and the inability of the political system to regulate them successfully. They translate it as a demand for the development of appropriate political institutions through which the union of economy and environment becomes accountable. In the context of the contemporary debate, particular interpretations grasp the aims of achieving efficiency and legitimacy as conflicting ones. Indeed, the rivalry in relation to particular interpretations of these aims can be seen as a problematic aspect of the debate. However, while both questions remain open and a comprehensive answer to both is still pending, I believe that we can learn much from the accounts offered by these approaches. The emergence and dominance of the sustainable development discourse has resulted in establishing that a comprehensive response to both these questions constitutes a core precondition for defining the space of compatibility between liberal democracy and sustainability.

Free market environmentalism Free market environmentalism challenges the whole debate on sustainability in a radical way. Sustainability is described as an inherently ambiguous and problematic concept. More importantly, it is considered totally incompatible with the preservation of the most essential value identified with liberal democracy, i.e. individual liberty. There is, however, a positive implication for our discussion in the implicit recognition of the minimal normative conception of sustainability we have identified.1 Anderson and Leal develop their argument against two main conceptions of sustainable development corresponding to those advanced by neoclassical economics and ecological economics. These two share the aim of preserving environmental resources and achieving intergenerational equity. The rejection of sustainability on the grounds of its incompatibility with the values of liberal democracy is accompanied by a very critical account of the political system’s function. Liberal democracy, it is argued, offers some hope of controlling political power and is thus essential for sustaining individual liberty. However, the ‘political sector’ is inherently unable to regulate

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environmental problems, and the ‘perversities of government regulation’ are responsible for resource depletion and environmental degradation. On the other hand, it is argued that the market is society’s only effective and efficient mechanism for dealing with environmental problems, while full privatization of environmental resources is the best way for dealing with environmental externalities. These assumptions are combined with scepticism towards the idea that there are natural limits to growth and a conviction that unrestrained economic growth is an essential precondition for achieving and sustaining environmental quality. Free market environmentalism is also characterized by scientific and technological optimism. Its proponents express the belief that human ingenuity and the employment of science and technology, in the context of the privatization of environmental commons, will solve effectively any environmental problems we may encounter. Thus, as far as our discussion is concerned, the main characteristic of free market environmentalism is the coupling of a highly critical account of the political system’s function with a negative view on sustainability. Clearly, this approach challenges our attempt to define the area of compatibility between liberal democracy and sustainability. In order to assess its implications for our discussion, we need to look in more detail at the general assumptions of this approach. Based on the theory of public choice developed by Coase (1960), free market environmentalism includes a set of theoretical assumptions about human nature, the knowledge necessary for dealing with environmental problems and the processes through which the aims of successful environmental management may be achieved (Anderson and Leal, 1991, pp. 4–5). This set forms the main body of this approach’s defence of the market mechanism and its attack on the failure of ‘the political sector’ and sustainability. Humans are seen as predominantly self-interested beings, and thus the main task of the institutional framework related to the management of environmental assets is to harness self-interest through individual incentives. The market mechanism, through private ownership, offers a powerful incentive for good resource management since the latter is identified with the creation and acquisition of wealth. Individual incentives in the market place, where well defined property rights may function effectively and efficiently for the reproduction of environmental goods, are contrasted with those provided by the ‘political sector’ to politicians and ‘bureaucratic managers’. It is argued that the functioning of the political sector is inherently inefficient and problematic. Instead of internalizing the costs of environmental externalities,

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the political sector operates by diffusing them. Politicians are only motivated by their self-interest and do not have a genuine interest in environmental issues. Citizens, on the other hand, are rationally ignorant and seldom influence the outcome of elections. Thus, achieving the efficient allocation of environmental resources, which is the main objective of this approach, becomes impossible. At the same time, the political process makes it possible for organized groups and ‘special interests’ to exercise strong influence over decision-makers. This function of the political process, in combination with the fact that bureaucratic managers act without having to ‘face all the opportunity costs’ of their decisions, makes the whole system liable to ‘regulatory capture’ and corruption. The second assumption of this approach’s defence of the market mechanism is related to the knowledge or information necessary for good resource management. Anderson and Leal argue that, given the highly complex nature of ecosystems and their dependency on the interaction of many different natural forces, this knowledge is diffuse rather than concentrated. It can only be obtained on the ground and varies significantly from time to time. This point further illustrates the ‘impossibility’ of centralized scientific management of environmental resources by government experts and bureaucrats. Dealing with environmental externalities and trying to achieve a ‘socially optimal allocation’ of environmental goods based on models that use ‘shadow prices’ instead of those revealed through market transactions, is at best an ‘unachievable ideal’. Insofar as the market generates the only real and comprehensive set of information on the ‘subjective values humans place on alternative resource use’, such models will always be constrained by information requirements. Finally, proponents of free market environmentalism argue that the highly complex and ‘dynamic’ character of most environmental problems is incompatible with the ‘static solutions’ of government regulation. This critique applies not only to the standard ‘commandand-control’ approach to environmental policy but also to any form of government intervention that involves the imposition of ceilings on the level of material and energy throughput in the economy. Anderson and Leal see an analogy between the function of ecosystems and markets and argue that the two systems have a fragmentation of knowledge in common, as well as the role of individual incentives; both depend on these two factors for their reproduction and for the successful resolution of problems. The analogy drawn between the two systems aims at showing the problematic character of any ‘static’ regulation,

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and emphasizes that free market environmentalism, by being compatible with the principles of ecology, is a ‘study of processes’ rather than ‘a prescription for solutions’. Anderson and Leal are keen to point out that their approach cannot offer any concrete guarantees for the outcomes its adoption may generate, and insist that this form of agnosticism brings it even closer to the principles of ecology. It may be argued that free market environmentalism’s critique of the political system’s function reveals two important criteria for our discussion. Liberal democracy can be compatible with sustainability only when it deals successfully with the questions of knowledge and motives. Otherwise, even the minimal normative conception of sustainability becomes incompatible with and irrelevant to the political system. The pessimism expressed by proponents of this approach in relation to the performance of political institutions in solving environmental problems is shared by other approaches. However, this happens to a much lesser degree, and the implications of this issue for both democracy and sustainability are quite different (Eckersley, 1993; Jacobs, 1995). Even though the critique of political institutions seems to capture some elements of their function, free market environmentalism fails significantly in two respects. On the one hand it may be argued that it overemphasizes the need for achieving efficiency and totally ignores the question of legitimacy. It is difficult to see how the arbitrary outcomes of market transactions that do not offer any guarantees for environmental improvement can enjoy any form of legitimacy. Furthermore, it fails to provide a coherent account of the relation between environmental protection and the economy. Free market environmentalism bypasses the need to develop an account of this relation as one of compatibility and complementarity with a futuristic view of property rights and an insistence on securing unrestrained economic growth. The insistence on the ‘no guarantees’ theme essentially reinforces the ‘zerosum trade-off’ conception of this relation that preceded the emergence of the sustainable development discourse.

The constant capital approach A positive account of the relation between environmental protection and economic development can be found in the constant capital approach (CCA). Developed by David Pearce (1989), this approach constitutes a major attempt within neoclassical economics to investigate how the economy and the environment interact and how feasible and practical the concept of sustainable development can be in relation to

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economics. In its context, the problem of sustainable development, i.e. the problem of identifying the way the economy is capable of replicating itself on a sustainable basis, is one of ‘achieving economic development without sacrificing an acceptable rate of economic growth’. For the CCA, dealing effectively with environmental problems is essentially a question of dealing with environmental externalities. Typically presented as cases of market failure, externalities are identified here with the inability of markets to take into account the full environmental costs and benefits of economic activity because environmental assets and services have been used as ‘free resources’. Thus, the CCA argues for the correct pricing of environmental goods and services and the incorporation of their full costs into prices. The efficient use and allocation of resources that constitutes the main aim of neoclassical analysis can only be achieved when all factors of production are properly priced.2 The employment of monetary valuation techniques like the ‘contingent valuation method’ and ‘cost benefit analysis’, and the implementation of a ‘right mix’ of policy instruments that includes ‘command and control’ and market-based instruments, hold the promise of materializing this approach’s solution to the problem of sustainable development.3 Apart from the aim of sustaining economic growth, the concept of sustainable development is linked with the principle of intergenerational equity, which involves ‘a bequest to the next generation of an amount and quality of wealth which is at least equal to that inherited by the current generation’. By emphasizing the interdependencies between richer and poorer nations and the fact that the former may achieve sustainability by importing it through ‘non-sustainability in the latter, this concept is also consistent with further concerns of intragenerational equity. Furthermore, it is linked with the preservation of essential welfare values.’ However, we shall see that there is also a questionable identification of this conception with the preservation of individual liberty. The CCA’s definition of sustainable development thus includes the minimal definition of sustainability described above.4 It may be argued that the peculiarity of this approach lies in its attempt to overcome the deadlocks economic theory was facing in the 1970s by offering a more elaborate theoretical framework for dealing with environmental externalities that complies with the normative nature of sustainability.5 However, the commitment to achieve intergenerational equity by means of achieving efficiency creates some complications for the CCA. These complications highlight the complexity of the integration between

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the environment and the economy, and at the same time introduce the problem of liberal democracy’s functioning. There are two significant points of tension here. On the one hand, the employment of monetary valuation techniques and the creation of hypothetical markets for environmental goods has been widely criticized for not being in a position to deliver outcomes compatible with intergenerational equity.6 The emphasis on the pricing of environmental externalities and the imposition of an equivalent tax or charge offers a rather narrow and ‘technical’ view of the aims implied by sustainability. Furthermore, critics have argued that both real and hypothetical markets tend to discount the future and are therefore inherently unable to generate outcomes compatible with the concept of sustainability. Pearce argues that the theoretical framework of this approach is well equipped for accommodating such concerns insofar as it can reflect the full value of environmental resources – even the benefits forgone by using a resource at the present. However, he concedes that the theoretical issue is not the significant one. There is, he argues, a very pragmatic reason for employing such methods. Given that the practice of trading off the environment against economic activity constitutes a daily experience among politicians, monetary valuations can provide strong evidence that investing in environmental improvement is worthwhile. Furthermore, he acknowledges that policy instruments such as pollution taxes and charges do not aim at the theoretically specified achievement of an optimal level of environmental protection. They are useful because they can push the market in ‘the right direction’. Thus, pragmatism constitutes a significant aspect of justifying the policy instruments of this approach but also of the possible deviation from the target of achieving an optimal level of environmental protection. This pragmatic attitude is also linked with a critical account of the political institutions’ functioning. Pearce’s argument essentially addresses a situation where political institutions have failed to address environmental issues properly and do not seem to offer significant guarantees that they will do so in the future. In this context, a claim is made that only the policy instruments advocated by this approach can deliver outcomes compatible with sustainability. However, the CCA thereby misses the important dimension of the contribution that political institutions may make to defining and implementing environmental objectives. This becomes clearer when we consider the second point of tension in relation to this approach’s analysis. This refers to the question of the scale of the economy, i.e. the magnitude of economic output, its rate of change and the way it affects the

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environment. The question of scale can be seen as a significant point of tension that questions the CCA’s conceptualization of the integration between the environment and the economy and its ability to deliver outcomes compatible with sustainability. It has been argued that dealing successfully with this issue involves the adoption of more radical measures, such as the imposition of ‘ceilings’ on the level of material and energy throughput in the economy (Jacobs, 1991). Pearce concedes that in the long term the issue of scale may prove to be a significant one. However, he denies the need to employ such extensive ‘command and control’ measures on the grounds of the importance of individual liberty. He argues that such measures will have significant social costs – in the form of loss of human freedoms – while their adoption involves nothing less than the use of ‘social engineering’. Thus, here we not only have an identification between the policy instrument advocated by the CCA and sustainability but also a further link with the preservation of individual liberty. Ecological economics challenges this identification and attempts to turn Pearce’s argument on its head by maintaining that the values and institutions of liberal democracy are compatible with the measures involved in dealing successfully with the question of scale. In addition, these values put into question the legitimacy of the policy objectives that the CCA identifies with sustainability.

Ecological economics Ecological economics shares quite a few elements in its analysis of the sources of environmental problems with the constant capital approach. However, we can also observe significant differences regarding both the wider interpretative framework of the economic behaviour that leads to environmental degradation and the institutions responsible for arriving at environmental decisions. Ecological economics points out the deficiencies of the neoclassical analysis and aspires to develop a more integrated analysis of the sources of environmental problems in the context of a structural or ‘institutional’ analysis. However, as Michael Jacobs (1992) points out, this project, even though crucial and urgent, remains to a large extent underdeveloped. In the context of ecological economics, environmental problems are placed in the interpretative framework of externalities representing the costs of production and consumption decisions which are not borne by the agents involved in transactions. Special emphasis is given to the environmental externalities related to future generations, and

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the market mechanism is criticized as being unable to take into account the interests of those not yet born. Markets tend to discount the future, leading to the exhaustion of environmental resources and disregard for the wider aesthetic, scientific and life-support functions of the environment. Environmental externalities are discussed in the context of the wider issue of pursuing environmentally unconstrained growth. In contrast to radical ‘zero growth’ environmental discourses, Jacobs argues that ecological economics do not identify environmental degradation with economic growth per se. The source of environmental degradation should be identified in the combination of growth, i.e. the expansion of production stimulated by market forces, and the lack of institutionalized environmental constraints on this process (Jacobs, 1991, pp. 27–34). What is important here is that the rate of consumption of environmental resources involved in economic activity should not exceed the rate of their natural regeneration. What is thus needed is the establishment of key environmental indicators defining the level at which the environmental capacity is to be protected. A second stage involves the selection of the appropriate policy instruments for constraining the economic behaviour of firms and households. Jacobs refers to this double process as ‘sustainability planning’. The definition of sustainability offered is partly identical to the minimal normative conception we adopted. Sustainability is defined as the requirement to maintain the natural capital stock over time. As such, it is argued, sustainability is essentially an ‘ethical principle concerned with intergenerational equity’. However, in the context of this approach sustainability has two significant roles that differentiate it radically from the minimal conception. ‘Sustainability planning’ essentially constitutes a project to be undertaken by the state and depends heavily on the construction of a democratic majority to support it. Thus, sustainability in this open and unspecified form is used as a campaigning tool for promoting the aim of sustainability planning. Insofar as this conception is combined with the project of sustainability planning it also constitutes a concept that mediates the present and a more comprehensive state in which sustainability planning will be implemented. This state is also described as sustainability and involves a radical change in consumption patterns and continuous technological change. These changes, however, are to be pursued in a non-coercive way that respects the values of the political system. Even though the ecological economics project relies heavily on political institutions for its realization, Jacobs has a highly critical view of them. He argues that political institutions cannot offer concrete

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guarantees for its realization.7 In some cases, protecting the interests of the future may be too costly or may actually be in conflict with the interests of the present generation. However, he points out that in each of these cases it is important to know the costs of the decisions and their implications for future generations. On the other hand, in sharp contrast to the fears expressed by Pearce regarding the infringement of individual liberty, he argues that there are forms of political participation and public debate as well as relevant forms of rights that constitute manifestations of a ‘deliberative’ or ‘discursive’ ideal of democracy. In the context of such institutions, people are able to understand the interests of others and formulate and transform their views about what is socially desirable. These institutions provide a suitable framework for arriving at a socially agreed answer to the question of the level of environmental protection society should choose. In sharp contrast to techniques of monetary valuation where people express their preferences, such institutions allow them to express their views as citizens. However, Jacobs also argues for the expansion of such institutions and the creation of a more developed model of democracy that arrives at environmental decisions with open participatory public debate. ‘Environmental democracy’ may offer more guarantees for the realization of sustainability planning than those offered by liberal democracy in its present state (Jacobs, 1995). Yet the precise arrangements and institutions of this advanced model of liberal democracy are still lacking. The non-coercive character of the changes implied by sustainability planning makes this project compatible with liberal democracy. However, its realization depends heavily on the performance of political institutions. Its success is therefore inextricably linked with tackling successfully the questions raised so far in relation to the limitations of political institutions. Furthermore, ecological economics needs to offer an account of their precise arrangements regarding the alternative model of environmental democracy but also demonstrate the necessity for the transition to it. Thus, it needs to show that the nature and intensity of ecological problems constitute sufficient reasons for this transition, and also that liberal democracy can adapt to it. Jacobs seems to acknowledge these preconditions and argues that even though no institution can guarantee the achievement of any specific environmental outcome, the normative concept of sustainability is essential for developing an ethical critique of these outcomes and for questioning their legitimacy. In this context, his main concern is to establish that political institutions, notwithstanding their limitations, provide the proper context for arriving at environmental decisions while the

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employment of real or hypothetical markets for this task cannot and should not enjoy any form of legitimacy. So far, we have seen that in the context of our debate sustainability does not appear as a physical side-constraint to human development. We detected a minimum consensus on the normative character of this concept, which allowed us to focus on the reconstruction of particular conceptions of liberal democracy. We have seen that, in each of the approaches we examined, the conflicting interpretations of the values and function of the political system result in different interpretations of sustainability’s policy implications. However, we have also seen that no single approach provides a coherent and comprehensive account in relation to the two major questions associated with the interpretation of sustainability. Free market environmentalism and the constant capital approach identified the question of integrating environmental concerns in economic activity with the prioritization of securing economic efficiency. To a large extent they have either dismissed or ignored the question of the political implications of this integration, the need for its legitimacy and the role political institutions can play in its achievement. The analysis of ecological economics, on the other hand, while pointing in the opposite direction, remains to some extent incomplete. Indeed, the rivalry between prioritizing economic efficiency and emphasizing that this aim lacks legitimacy can be seen as the most significant characteristic of this debate. The ideology of ecological modernization seems to transcend this rivalry by offering a new framework for conceptualizing the integration between the economy and the environment and the wide political implications of this process. Furthermore, it reveals that the relation between the objectives associated with these questions is a quite complex one. Even though controversial, the new framework highlights the possibilities offered by the political system in accommodating concerns associated with the preservation of the natural capital stock and intergenerational equity. In doing so it provides some answers to the questions raised so far in relation to the limitations of political institutions. More importantly, however, it reveals a feature of liberal democracy’s function that has been ignored so far by the approaches examined above. This refers to the partial integration and accommodation of environmental concerns by the political system that may lead to the neutralization and cancellation of further demands associated with sustainability. Thus, for the first time ecological modernization provides an example of how the normative character of the conception of sustainability we have detected can be compromised.

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Ecological modernization The ideology or policy discourse of ecological modernization8 was mainly developed by international organizations such as the European Community and the OECD with the aim of securing acceptance of common, or at least harmonized, environmental policies. In contrast to the approaches examined earlier, the main characteristic of this one is its flexibility or openness (Weale, 1992; Hajer, 1995): its main propositions can be interpreted in quite different and often conflicting ways. Its emergence can be understood in relation to two very significant problems associated with environmental policy. These are, on the one hand, the multiple failures of the environmental policy strategies of the 1970s and, on the other, at the political level, the consolidation of an antagonistic, and for the political system in many respects problematic, opposition between the pro-environment and the ‘economic feasibility’ coalitions. The wider political implications of this discourse are highly interesting. It has been argued that the development and adoption of this flexible ideology by many policy elites during the 1980s can be partly interpreted ‘as a strategy of political accommodation of the radical environmentalist critique of the 1970s’ or as a ‘rhetorical ploy that tries to reconcile the irreconcilable (environment and development) only to take the wind out of the sails of “real” environmentalists’ (Hajer, 1995). However, the flexibility of this ideology can be interpreted as a positive element. In contrast to the rigidity of the previous approaches, this feature can be seen as quite significant in allowing different political-institutional settings to experiment and develop their own policy styles in relation to the environment. Assessing its political implications and the way the question of sustainability is raised in its context involves an examination of both its constituting propositions and cases of their implementation. Following the rationale of the sustainable development discourse, ecological modernization provides a series of propositions on the complementarity relation between the economy and the environment. Furthermore, it rejects the basic assumptions underlying the policy strategies of the 1970s and offers a new framework for understanding the nature and scale of environmental problems and the institutional arrangements that may best regulate them. Environmental problems are perceived as complex and as frequently not obvious. End-of-pipe solutions are seen as an inadequate form of regulation that leads to problem displacement across time and space; environmental problems

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need to be tackled at source instead. The fact that pollutants undergo cycles of change in the environment leads to the conclusion that prevention rather than remedial action is a more effective way of dealing with the complexity of environmental problems. Ecological modernization theorists also say that environmental concerns cannot be the exclusive subject of a specialist branch of government: environmental aims need to be incorporated in all sectors of public policy. In short, these propositions call for an approach to environmental regulation that pays attention to the needs of the environment ‘in a holistic way’ (Weale, 1993). However, the reconceptualization of the relation between environmental protection and economic development is the point at which ecological modernization breaks decisively with the policy strategies of the 1970s and reveals its flexibility. The reconceptualization of the relation between the economy and the environment and the rejection of its representation as a ‘zero-sum trade-off’ is contained in the claim that ‘environmental protection should not be regarded as a burden upon the economy but as a precondition for future sustainable growth’. This quite general claim is further developed in a set of subsidiary themes with different policy implications. On the one hand, the complementarity theme is developed in the form of a critique of the cost–benefit rationale of neoclassical economics. According to this critique, the implication of avoiding the costs of environmental protection is an increased burden for future generations. The main effect of this proposition is to render illegitimate the framing of the debate on environmental protection in terms of costs and benefits, while in political terms it vindicates the arguments of the pro-environment coalition. Furthermore and notwithstanding its technical character, it expresses a concern that can be linked with the issue of intergenerational equity. A different account of the complementarity theme is included in an alternative formulation of the general proposition introduced above. On this version, environmental protection is seen not only as a precondition of, but also as (in itself) a ‘potential for’ future growth. The rationale of this positive account is that it perceives environmental protection, in the form of raised standards of pollution control and the development of industries concerned with clean technologies, as a significant advantage for an economy operating in the context of global markets. This account of complementarity has important implications for the state. Public intervention in the form of establishing high standards of environmental protection is seen as crucial for the protection

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of economic competitiveness, since it provides the impetus for the development of clean technology industries. Weale argues that, in this respect, ecological modernization appears as ‘mercantilism with a green twist’. There is a further element that can be presented as part of the ideology of ecological modernization. This is the precautionary principle9 (Vorsorgeprinzip), developed in the German policy context and incorporated in EC policy documents. The principle of precaution offers another significant example of the radical departure from the rationale of the policy strategies of the 1970s and offers a further link with the issue of intergenerational equity. It mainly stresses that in cases of complex environmental problems, such as the phenomena of acid rain or climate change, where scientific uncertainties make it difficult to establish any clear relationship between ‘putative benefits’ and ‘costs’, it is important to act with due care and attention. This means adopting the best available risk-aversion policy, regardless of the potentially high costs this may imply. Weale argues that, even though this principle focuses primarily on rejecting both scientific uncertainties and ‘cost– benefit’ calculations as factors that can limit the scope of environmental policy, it interacts with the account of complementarity and provides a further impetus for the imposition of more stringent, as well as more costly, environmental protection measures. The flexibility of this ideology can be seen in the different policy outcomes its propositions may imply. Since the precautionary principle and the proposition on complementarity criticizing the cost–benefit rationale of early environmental policy may imply radical environmental policies, the ‘green mercantilism’ version of ecological modernization can lead to a more ‘pro-industry’ set of policies. The interaction of ecological modernization with the political-institutional settings of Germany and the Netherlands provide a clear illustration of the political implications of this ideology. The case of Germany is quite significant because it illustrates the complexity of the relation between the aim of integrating environmental concerns into economic policy and that of achieving legitimacy. Weale argues that the interaction of ecological modernization with the German political system undoubtedly led to a significant improvement in environmental quality. Policy developments were the result of the mechanisms of public accountability built into the political system of the country, and present significant discursive features. Environmental policies were developed in the context of institutions that guaranteed a high level of democratic accountability, involved the participation of a

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wide policy community and used the precautionary principle as the basic principle for their justification. However, the policies developed were confined to end-of-pipe solutions and did not lead to structural changes in the economy. It was the ‘green mercantilism’ version of ecological modernization that was advanced, whereas radical propositions calling for prevention rather than remedial action and the integration of environmental aims in all sectors of public policy were ignored. The active involvement of the state in promoting high environmental quality standards and its support for the emerging clean technology industries were aimed at gaining a significant advantage in the global markets. Weale argues that this case of adoption of ecological modernization seems to have significant implications in relation to the question of legitimation. In this case, ecological modernization essentially leads to the neutralization of more radical demands for environmental change: In societies in which one of the central legitimating devices rests upon the ability to deliver to populations increased standards of living, the capacity to redefine the terms under which that will be accomplished is a potentially important political weapon. The challenge of environmental protection suggests that how the function of legitimation is carried out is as important as whether it is carried out. (Weale, 1992, p. 89) However, the question regarding the wider relation between the institutions of liberal democracy and sustainability remains open, and Weale argues that the case of the Netherlands provides a totally different example of the adoption of ecological modernization. Environmental policies here were also developed in the context of a wide belief in the complementarity of economic development and environmental protection. However, the dominant theme was that of the integration of environmental aims in all sectors of public policy with an emphasis on dealing with the causes of environmental problems rather than their effects. The most significant feature of this case is the development of the National Environmental Policy Plan (NEPP) that specified environmental objectives to be incorporated in public policy, as well as their implications for the economy and society. By bringing out into the open possible trade-offs between environmental improvement and other social benefits it offered significant guarantees for democratic and public accountability. Furthermore, the realization of its aims was inextricably linked with the development of a notion of common

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responsibility that was incorporated in the sphere of citizenship. Thus not only the corporate world but civil society as well were included in the process of transition to a more sustainable society. Ecological modernization in this form constitutes a quite radical approach and contributes significantly to showing the possibilities offered by the political system in securing the preservation of the natural capital stock and the achievement of intergenerational equity. Here we can also observe that the questions raised by free market environmentalism and the constant capital approach in relation to the limitations of political institutions are tackled successfully. The development of the NEPP indicates that politicians can be genuinely interested in environmental issues and possess the necessary motives for developing and implementing policies associated with sustainability. Furthermore, it indicates that possible trade-offs between environmental improvement and economic development can only become accountable in the context of political institutions while the imposition of environmental constraints on economic activity does not pose a threat to individual liberty. These points tend to support the analysis of ecological economics. The arrangements of the NEPP can be seen as a practical application of the demand expressed by this approach for public accountability over environmental decisions. On the other hand, the rationale and wider aims of the NEPP are quite similar to those of sustainability planning. Here, even though the changes in the function of the political system are less radical than those involved in the realization of sustainability planning, we can observe the development of a notion of common responsibility in relation to environmental issues and an important advancement of public participation in determining environmental objectives. However, we have also seen from the example of the implementation of this ideology in Germany a totally different aspect of the political system’s function. Here, despite the high level of democratic accountability and the significant discursive features of environmental policy development, the neutralization and cancellation of policy objectives identified with sustainability was not avoided. It should be pointed out that the prevalence of the ‘green mercantilism’ version of ecological modernization should not only be seen as a particular interpretation of sustainability’s policy objectives. What is significant here is that the process of controlling and consenting to the given environmental objectives ceases to take place in the context of political institutions. The identification of environmental improvement with the provision of increased standards of living creates a wide consent that

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bypasses political institutions and cancels the further questioning of the chosen environmental objectives. This form of constructing consent essentially compromises the normative character of sustainability and limits its scope. Weale’s argument tends to indicate that this function of the political system is as important as that of developing the right institutions through which the policy objectives of sustainability are defined and become accountable.

Beyond sustainability? We have seen that, in the context of the debate we examined, sustainability does not appear as an unspecified and vague physical sideconstraint to human development. It appears as a normative principle, and it is exactly this normative character that gave rise to the debate on its precise policy implications and the reasons it should be complied with. In the context of the first three approaches, the minimal normative conception was identified clearly, while in the case of ecological modernization it was possible to detect particular propositions that can be linked to the questions of preserving the natural capital stock and securing intergenerational equity. The minimal normative conception we identified constituted a vital point of reference for defining the space of compatibility between the political system and the concept of sustainability. Indeed, this task would not be possible if we did not retain a minimal core of sustainability’s meaning. This move allowed us to focus on the reconstruction of particular interpretations of liberal democracy’s values and functioning, and assess the way these are coupled with specific sets of sustainability policy implications. The use of the normative-institutional framework of liberal democracy as binding for the interpretation of sustainability involved the assessment of the way the chosen approaches deal with the integration of environmental concerns in economic activity and the political implications of this process. We have seen that to a large extent a coherent approach that tackles both questions successfully is still lacking. Indeed, this inability may indicate the impossibility of coupling the political system successfully with this normative principle. However, liberal democracy presents us with both opportunities and limitations. As far as the question of the integration between the environment and the economy is concerned, we have seen that no approach offers a coherent and convincing account. The proposition of ecological modernization that presents environmental protection not only as a precondition but also as a ‘potential for future growth’, and its interaction

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with the German political system undoubtedly constitutes a significant example of how such integration may be achieved. An implication of this proposition is the rejection of the rather narrow and static objectives expressed by free market environmentalism and the constant capital approach. Integrating the environment and the economy cannot be confined to the aim of securing economic efficiency. This proposition also has significant implications for the way these two approaches understand the role of the state and its involvement in defining environmental objectives. Here, the wide involvement of the state in promoting high environmental standards seems to advance their chosen aim of furthering economic growth in a more credible way than their own arrangements. However, even though this proposition seems to tackle the question of the integration between the economy and the environment in a more convincing way than those of free market environmentalism and the constant capital approach, its theoretical coherence was not the main reason for its adoption. Weale (1993) points out that even though in strict logic this proposition may not be true it functioned as a useful coalition-building device and offered a new framework for resolving the conflict between the pro-environment and the economic feasibility coalitions. We have seen that its adoption led to the construction of a wide consent over given environmental objectives that bypasses political institutions and essentially compromises the normative character of sustainability. This indeed has been shown to be a very significant dimension of the political system’s function and emphasizes the limitations it may raise in the definition of sustainability. However, we have also seen that liberal democracy provides important opportunities for this task. Securing the legitimacy of the integration between the environment and the economy requires the development of the right institutions through which this process becomes accountable. Here we have observed eclectic affinities between the demand for accountability over environmental decisions expressed by ecological economics and the case of ecological modernization’s implementation in the Netherlands. Thus, in this context the definition of sustainability implies the development of such institutions and becomes identical with a demand for the qualitative functioning of the political system. We have also seen a further link between the establishment of such institutions and the development of a special conception of common responsibility and citizenship that involves wide public participation in determining environmental objectives. These features further emphasize the opportunities offered by the political system in securing concerns of intergenerational equity.

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Notes 1. Anderson and Leal refer to sustainability as both a purely physical sideconstraint to human development and as a normative principle deduced from the concept of sustainable development, one that should not be complied with. 2. Pearce (1992, pp. 10–13) emphasizes that while correcting market failure constitutes the prime objective of his approach, the issue of government failure and the need to rework the macroeconomic control of the environment is also addressed. 3. Monetary valuation techniques reveal the extent to which its users and others value a particular environmental asset. Thus, they are used to determine the ‘optimal’ level of environmental protection and establish the economic rationality of investing in environmental improvement. Along with the marginal external costs of production, Pearce (1992) argues that prices should also reflect the ‘marginal user cost’, i.e. the value of future benefits forgone by using a resource at present. This is considered a quite significant measure for ensuring that any trade-off decisions will reflect the full value of the environment. Market-based instruments such as taxes, charges, tradable emission reduction certificates and deposit-refund systems are seen as flexible and efficient policy instruments for keeping down compliance costs and providing incentives for the development of cleaner technologies. 4. Sustainability in this context is identified with the resilience of ecosystems, i.e. their ability to maintain their structure and patterns of behaviour in the face of external disturbances (Pearce, 1989, p. 40). 5. For an overview of attempts to estimate, in monetary terms, the damage caused by pollution see Fisher and Peterson (1976). 6. For a variety of criticisms see Jacobs (1991, 1995), Sagoff (1988), Goodin (1992), and O’Neill (1993, 1997). 7. Jacobs is highly critical of theorists like Sagoff (1988) who criticize the project of neoclassical economics but ‘display a naïve faith in the process by which elected politicians come to policy conclusions’ ( Jacobs, 1992; see also Keat, 1994, 1997, and O’Neill, 1997). 8. For alternative notions of ecological modernization see Christoff (1996), Mol (1996) and Spaargaren and Mol (1992). 9. For the precautionary principle see Weale et al. (1991) and O’Riordan and Jordan (1995).

6 Democracy, Justice and Risk Society: the Meaning and Shape of Ecological Democracy Wouter Achterberg

Introduction Destinations and risks are what politics is about, and power is simply the ability to settle these matters, not only for oneself but for others … Democratic politics … is a standing invitation to act in public and know oneself as a citizen, capable of choosing destinations and accepting risks for oneself and others, and capable, too, of patrolling the distributive boundaries and sustaining a just society. (Walzer, 1983, p. 287) Normative and institutional questions about sustainability will be discussed in this paper but not in the usual direct or abstract way. Instead, I shall first look at the societal context within which sustainable patterns of production and consumption have to be pursued. My guide in this will be the important work of the German sociologist, Ulrich Beck, on the nature of (late) modern, especially western, society. He points out a fundamental shift in the development of industrial society, from its classical form to what he calls risk society, a development expressive of reflexive modernization. The transformation of risks to large-scale hazards, ecological ones among others, plays an important part in Beck’s picture of risk society. And learning to deal with large-scale societal risks is just what taking sustainability seriously is all about. I shall not discuss the empirical merits of Beck’s thesis, or the lack thereof; others have done that (see, for example, Goldblatt, 1996). I am interested in its normative and institutional implications, particularly its relevance to questions of social and environmental justice and to issues about the nature and scope of democracy in risk society. Unfortunately, these are not very clear or developed (yet). So before 101

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coming to grips with these aspects of the thesis I have tried to reconstruct his arguments, sometimes indicating how they might run if Beck had given (more) thought to the matter, at other times just adding (congenial) arguments where they seemed missing. I shall therefore begin with a brief account of Beck’s theory, indicating the essential concepts and pointing out a few serious lapses in clarity. Next, I discuss the place of social justice in risk society and try to figure out where and how our responsibilities for future generations – a central concern of environmental justice – might come in. In the third section I analyse Beck’s reasons for what he calls ecological democracy and try to give more content and structure to this, so far hazy, concept. These reasons have to do with the nature of risks and their transformation and with the normative implications analysed in the second section. The outcome of the exercise, I believe, is that only a type of democracy which broadens and enhances liberal democracy in the direction of deliberative democracy will enable risk society to cope with the challenge of ecological hazards and the pursuit of sustainability.

The nature of risk society I shall first discuss the thesis of risk society in rather general terms and next highlight a few important aspects relevant to the subject of this chapter, qualifying some and critiquing others.1 We are, according to Beck, in the midst of a transition from classical industrial society to risk society or, with a different emphasis, from classical (industrial) modernity to reflexive modernity. Moreover, this change is potentially taking place on a global scale. Indeed, reflexive modernization implies globalization. What features are essential to distinguish industrial society from risk society? Most important is that on the way to risk society, risks are becoming pervasive in social life and culture as ‘stowaways of normal consumption’ (Beck, 1992a, p. 40) and simultaneously transformed, leading to what Beck calls the social and political ‘explosiveness’ of hazards. Their ultimate source is the development of science and technology. However, no longer are they just limited side effects of a technological development which seems on the whole benign and, at least in its particular manifestations, under control; no longer can they be considered the unavoidable price of a progress which brings material benefits to most people. The development of science and technology forms part of an autonomous process of modernization that leads inexorably in its later phases to what one may call a return of the repressed: pre-industrial

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hazards, the dangers of natural disasters, tend to lose their external character and become internal, manufactured and large-scale risks arising from our technological transformation of nature. They are internal because risk society has lost in its scientific and technological development any clear distinction between society (culture) and nature. They are large-scale because these internal risks, of which the ecological ones are heavily emphasized by Beck, are no longer limited in scale, neither geographically nor in time nor socially; by the same token they cannot be covered by any insurance. They are the result of modern technologies – nuclear, chemical, bio-industrial, genetic, etc. – which are actually out of (scientific and political) control even in their development, let alone in their so-called normal operation. As Beck puts it, ‘this transforms society into a laboratory in which no one organisation controls the conditions and the results of any ongoing experiment’ (Beck, 1997a, p. 19). An important effect of the wholesale transformation of risk is the emergence of a new legitimation crisis: the consensus over progress, the authority of (technological) science at its epistemological basis and the social institutions embodying and supporting both are increasingly undermined. These developments and others are captured in Beck’s concept of ‘reflexive modernization’. This concept does not mean (as the adjective ‘reflexive’ might suggest) reflection, but rather self-confrontation and self-transformation. The transition from the industrial to the risk epoch of modernity occurs unintended and unseen, inexorably in the wake of the autonomous dynamics of modernization, following the pattern of unintended consequences. One can say that the constellations of risk society are created because the certainties of industrial society (the consensus on progress and the abstraction of ecological effects and hazards) dominate the thought and action of people and institutions. Risk society is not an option that is selected or rejected as the result of a political conflict. It originates in the inexorable motion of autonomous modernization processes that are blind to their consequences and deaf to their hazards. Taken altogether, the latter produce latent self-endangerment that calls the foundations of industrial society itself into question (Beck, 1997a, p. 28) Nonetheless, one wonders where reflection might come in here, especially if one envisages a role for it more substantial than that of Hegel’s owl of Minerva. Beck obligingly offers a glimmer of hope, for, as he remarks elsewhere (Beck, 1994, p. 6), the ‘fact that this very constellation

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[of reflexive modernization] may later, in a second stage, in turn become the object of (public, political and scientific) reflection must not obscure the unreflected, quasi-autonomous mechanism of the transition: it is precisely abstraction which produces and gives reality to risk society.’ In a second stage there is an opening, then, for the project of trying to control and manage risk society – or, more to the point, those aspects of it already manifesting itself in the present industrial society – in an enlightened, just and democratic way. Of course, the transition to risk society is not characterized by just the transformation of risks and hazards. Beck also discusses what he calls the ‘end of tradition’ with repercussions on the way individuals conduct their life and form an identity, the nature and form of the family, gender relationships and labour. I cannot discuss these matters in this paper, although it is important to be aware of Beck’s view of them, if only by way of background to the analysis in later sections. Having looked at this very broad-brush picture of some important sociological trends – the emergence of risk society, reflexive modernization, the end of tradition – let us return to the analysis of Beck’s concept of risk. Three aspects of it need to be discussed: the nature and transformation of risk; the evaluation of risk, particularly from the point of view of justice; the democratic control of risk, the first in the second part of this section, the other two in the following two sections respectively. Special attention will be paid to environmental or ecological risks (see esp. Beck, 1992b, 1995b). The nature and transformation of risks Within the category of risks – I am using the term here in a blanket sense – Beck distinguishes three subclasses: pre-industrial hazards, the risks of classical industrial society and the man-made large-scale hazards of ‘late industrialism’ (risk society). I take it that the (external) dangers of earthquakes and hurricanes and the risks of occupational accident and disease will persist in risk society. New are the large-scale ecological, nuclear, chemical and genetic hazards (Beck, 1995b, pp. 76, 109). Lately, Beck has distinguished three types of global hazard (Beck, 1996, pp. 133–5; 1997b, pp. 76–7): – global hazards which result from the production and consumption of wealth (depletion of the ozone layer, greenhouse effect and the unpredictable consequences of genetic technology); – global hazards resulting from poverty (the focus of the sustainable development discourse);

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– global hazards resulting from the use of mass destruction (ABC) weapons; although exceptional still by no means a bygone evil. There are some problems with Beck’s massive picture of the large-scale hazards of risk society. I shall discuss two of them. In the first place, Beck insists on the apocalyptic character of these hazards as if it were incontestable, objective, a fact. He does not seem to sound the apocalyptic note only rhetorically. Insofar as that is right he tends to be an objectivist about risks. On the other hand, he tends to accept, at least partially, a social constructive account of risks (in general). So, for example, he states that ‘[h]azards are subject to historico-cultural perceptions and assessments which vary from country to country, from group to group, from one period to another’ (Beck, 1995b, p. 91), and, ‘As risks become politicized, everybody has to pick a number out of the hat, and thus hazards rob public morality of its last bastions. At the same time, however, no one any longer has privileged access to the uniquely correct calculation; for risks are pregnant with interests, and accordingly the ways of calculating them multiply like rabbits’ (Beck, 1995b, p. 93). But if he is right in this he cannot just go on with his apocalyptic view as if it were the only valid one. He has to allow for different social interpretations (constructions) of risks and hazards, and of risk society. On the other hand, he himself has opted lately for a position he calls ‘institutional constructivism’ (Beck, 1996, p. 129). Not surprisingly, he rejects a naive constructivism that sees constructions of reality as just like that, constructions, and therefore is not able to guide action in daily life. Moreover, the naive constructivism forgets the ‘material weight and the independent force of global hazards, which yield in nothing to economic forces’ (Beck, 1996, p. 126). So he allows for sophisticated, ‘reflexive’ varieties of realism (even ‘constructive realism’!) that have learnt from the mistakes of naive versions of (risk) realism and constructivism (Beck, 1996, pp. 125–6). It should be said, though, that at the end of the day the relevance of this debate between constructivists and realists for Beck’s enterprise is not crystal clear, at least not to this writer, especially because Beck admits that the talk about global risk society can be justified from both positions, albeit with different emphases (Beck, 1996, p. 125). The conclusion to draw from all this would seem to be that we need an institutional space for a constructive dialogue and rational deliberation between adherents of the different views of risks and hazards involved in late industrial society (and not just between the sociologists and philosophers of risk), that is a space screened from the usual

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political manoeuvring and conflict and the resulting shifts in the balance of power that will take place anyway. Now Beck points out an increasing movement of politics (including political deliberation) beyond the formal political forums to the area of what he calls ‘subpolitics’ (see beneath). But it remains to be seen what the content of this politics is and what its normative structure might be. Of course, a rational debate about risks makes sense only if not anything goes as far as risk interpretations and discourses are concerned. After all, as already suggested, it might turn out that some interpretations or constructions are rationally or even morally more acceptable than others! That seems to me just right: accepting that risks and hazards are in some sense social constructions neither implies the rampant (cultural or political) relativism embraced by some adherents of this view (e.g. Douglas and Wildavski; Beck rejects cultural relativism about hazards; Beck, 1995b, pp. 162–3; 1996, p. 123) nor the kind of ontological evaporation of risks and hazards performed by naive constructivists. A second problem concerns the difference between risk and uncertainty. The difference between the risks of industrial society and the large-scale hazards of risk society seems to be that the first are in principle ‘determinable, calculable uncertainties’, possible (harmful) events with a certain probability attached to them (Beck, 1995b, p. 77), and that the latter have also attributed to them by experts a certain probability (of fatal accidents), however low, but one which is so to speak dwarfed in significance by the ever present possibility that the ‘worst case scenario’ may become reality, something the public but not the experts or members of new social movements might tend to forget (Beck, 1995b, pp. 85–9). Now, whatever the representatives of the government or, for example, the nuclear industry would have us believe about the (so-called ‘residual’) probability of large-scale accidents, it would make for greater clarity and help the debate to distinguish (as Beck does not do very clearly) between situations of risk and situations of decision under uncertainty (in the technical sense, as in the problem of choice behind a ‘veil of ignorance’ in Rawls’s original position). The latter are devoid of the information that might allow any calculation of probabilities, e.g. in terms of expected utility. From the fact that the technologies and industries producing the large-scale risks typical for risk society are in fact and in principle beyond (private) insurance, Beck (e.g. 1992b, p. 103f.; 1996, p. 130) tends to draw the conclusion that in these cases the calculus of risks, among others, is not applicable anymore (Beck, 1992b, pp. 101–2; 1996, p. 130). But the reason why is

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not so clear. Does it have to do with the incalculability of the damage etc., or with the impossibility of calculating the risk of the worst conceivable case? I cannot find a clear answer in Beck. At any rate, recognizing that the large-scale hazards of risk society belong predominantly to the type of decisions under uncertainty (see Shrader-Frechette, 1990, chapter 8) and so do not fall under the calculation of risk at all would give support to the distinctions Beck wants to make but, more significantly, makes the moral stakes of allowing large-scale hazards clear. This is particularly important if the morality of large-scale environmental hazards has to be considered in the debate on intergenerational justice.

Risk evaluation: risk (society) and social justice So far, we have discussed problems mostly relating to the identification and assessment of risk. Let us now turn to the question: what risks and hazards are acceptable to society? At least as important is the question discussed in the next section: who decides this? These are some of the central issues in the ethical assessment of risk society. This is not a peripheral topic in the discussion of risk society. As Beck puts it: ‘one must assume an ethical point of view in order to discuss risks meaningfully at all’ (1992a, p. 29). The same goes for risk society. I shall focus on issues of distributive justice, which is an important element in answers to the question: ‘how do we wish to live?’ (Beck, 1992b, p. 119). And answers to that question have much to do with the acceptance of risks, as Beck rightly remarks (1992a, p. 28). From the beginning (Beck, 1992a, chapter 1; 1995b, chapter 6) Beck emphasized that the transition to risk society implies a shift to new conflicts and patterns of distribution. Superimposed on the familiar conflicts in industrial society about the distribution of material wealth, crudely simplified between capital and labour, appears a new type of conflict, one about the distribution of a ‘poisoned cake’, i.e. of risks and hazards. The old conflicts do not go away, of course (Beck, 1992b, p. 121, n. 8), but connected with them there arises a new inequality in social risk positions, within and between social classes, within nations and between nations and globally between rich and poor. Whereas in the old industrial society, the logic of the distribution of wealth coincides with that of risks, in industrial risk society these also diverge. On the one hand, the rule continues to hold that wealth rises to the top while risks sink to the bottom. The attractive

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force that poverty continues to exert, as ever, upon dirt, destruction, toxins, noise etc. – nationally too, but especially internationally – is not the reason for the epochal change. On the other hand, the industrial system is taking belated revenge upon those who have enjoyed its fruit until now. (Beck, 1995b, p. 137) The risks and hazards of modernization have a ‘boomerang effect’ in their incidence: they tend to hit in particular those agents of modernization who unleash them and profit from them (Beck, 1992a, pp. 23, 37f.). Not only that, they also create new conflicts within classes; for example: … wealth creation produced the antagonisms between capital and labour, while the systematic chemical, nuclear and genetic threats bring about polarizations between capital and capital – and thus between labour and labour – cutting across the social order. If the social welfare state had to be forced through against the concerted resistance of the private investors, who were called on to pay in the form of wage and fringe-benefit costs, then ecological threats split the business camp. (Beck, 1992b, p. 111) The thesis of the boomerang effect should be qualified for the different types of global hazards mentioned earlier. Moreover, the actual effect of many wealth-dependent global ecological hazards may well be that ‘the poorest in the world will be hit hardest’ (Beck, 1992b, p. 110). We have to take seriously the possibility that for those in disadvantaged positions in (global) society the coming of risk society will make them worse off. This raises serious doubts as to whether the hazards imposed on us by the autonomous advance into late modernity are acceptable from the point of view of social justice. And if this advance is just ‘semi-autonomous’, instead of autonomous, then social justice might ask us at least to slow down the advance into global risk society. Of course, there are very different theories of social justice and even more ethical theories, and anyway invoking them might not have much more effect, globally, than using a ‘bicycle brake on an intercontinental jet’ (Beck, 1992b, p. 106). On the other hand, we cannot just forget all about ethics when the going gets tough. Perhaps that may be the promise of subpolitics, as Beck envisages it: in the interstitial tissue of the formal institutions of (global) society there may grow pockets and networks of an ethically inspired resistance against what looks sometimes like a free fall into global risk society.

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Let us, however, in the meantime discuss in some more depth one aspect of social justice. This concerns intergenerational justice. It deserves much more attention than Beck tends to give it. Of course, life is complicated enough without having to take the requirements of intergenerational justice into account. However, future generations are among the most important ‘parties’ affected by the hazards of risk society. So let us conclude this section with some brief remarks about this aspect of justice, which is also an important part of what has been called environmental justice.2 Since the discourse of sustainability or sustainable development has become established worldwide, at least since the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro (1992) but presumably since the publication of the report Our Common Future (1987), there has been a predictable proliferation of definitions of both concepts. From the beginning, however, three concepts were central in the discourse, whatever may have happened to it later. These are the concepts of needs, limits and future generations. The idea of (physical) limits to our use of the environment gave point and urgency to the message that we should share the planet and its resources with its future inhabitants without depriving the poor countries of the resources (physical, technical and social) for a development by which they could at the very least satisfy the needs of their inhabitants. In the discourse of sustainable development, the requirements of social and environmental justice were intertwined in a shifting, conflict-ridden and uneven balance. Let us now for a moment consider the idea of intergenerational justice on its own. By our use of the environment we impose risks and hazards on future generations. This is generally unavoidable. What we can try to avoid is imposing an unfair burden on them. What would be an unfair burden? Good examples are the global hazards (particularly the first and the third) mentioned earlier. Why is that burden unfair? Because they, human beings like us, are vulnerable like us, and we, by our actions and omissions, ultimately endanger their lives and bodily security. In other words, we infringe their basic human rights. Moreover, precisely by our putting their lives and bodily security at risk and because we cause or allow the global hazards to exist, they are, arguably, in the worse-off position vis-à-vis us. If we put aside a faith in miracles, e.g. in the substitution of important resources by the combined workings of the market and technological breakthroughs – that is, if we put aside for the moment this latter-day version of the invisible hand – we have a good case here for the application of a maximin rule, i.e. at the very least we should not make future generations worse

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off. But worse than what or whom? What is the appropriate standard here? They should be treated as equals, of course. A good guess is contained in Principle 8 of the Rio Declaration: To achieve sustainable development and a higher quality of life for all people, States should reduce and eliminate unsustainable patterns of production and consumption and promote appropriate demographic policies.3 One could unpack this principle in various ways but a good one, in agreement with the remarks made earlier, is Luper-Foy’s ‘sustainable consumption-reproduction’ principle: Each generation may consume natural resources, pollute, and reproduce at given rates only if it could reasonably expect that each successive generation could do likewise. (Luper-Foy, 1995, p. 98) This formulation has the advantage of ‘factoring in’ population growth, a source of global risks and hazards on which Beck is remarkably reticent. Of course, the problems of elaborating on and implementing this principle are inversely proportional to the ease of formulating it. Let me conclude this section by briefly mentioning two of them that also point to the subject of the next section. We have the problem of determining the limits of a specific or total environmental consumption, which is not only a scientific but also a normative matter. Thus, this problem requires political deliberation and decision-making. The same goes for the next problem: how to solve potential conflicts between social and environmental justice. The unavoidable trade-offs should be made in a morally and democratically acceptable way. We need deliberative and democratic forums to conduct the debate on morally acceptable solutions to both problems so that all concerned and affected can participate in the deliberations and, ideally, decisionmaking, and not just the officials of government and industry, the politicians and the experts, whatever side they may be on.

Risk and democracy Beck discusses two answers to the organized irresponsibility that allows the transformation of risks to unmanageable global hazards: an empirical and a normative one. If successful, both are steps on the way to an

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enhanced democratic risk management. Central in the empirical answer is an analysis of what he calls ‘subpolitics’, that is politics outside the formal political institutions and channels of parliamentary democracy. Subpolitics is not necessarily democratic. The normative answer, only contingently connected with the empirical one, concerns radical or even ecological democracy. In the remainder of this section I shall try to establish what Beck sees as the core of ecological democracy and, next, explore some aspects of it in more depth than Beck is so far inclined to do. ‘In political theory’, he announces, ‘a programme to deal with largescale hazards might require revolutionary changes’ (Beck, 1995b, p. 180). The changes he proposes seem rather modest, though. How could it be otherwise if one admits, as Beck does, that adequately functioning institutions of liberal democracy are presupposed for the success of oppositional subpolitics: apart from parliamentary democracy itself he mentions free and independent mass media and a strong and independent judicial system (Beck, 1997a, p. 30; 1992b, p. 116). What, then, might be the direction of the ‘revolutionary changes’? Basically, the transition to risk society offers us the opportunity to broaden and enhance democracy beyond its ‘truncated’ version in classical industrial society, in which ‘questions of the technological change of society remain beyond the reach of political-parliamentary decision-making’ (Beck, 1992b, p. 119). Now, we are on the eve of a ‘second’ modernity, that is a ‘responsible modernity’ in which we, having become ‘ecologically enlightened’, will bring more rationality and reason to the task of regulating technological change to the benefit of all affected. This is, for Beck, the utopian meaning of an ‘ecological democracy’ (Beck, 1997a, pp. 32–3; 1992b, pp. 118–20). It remains to be seen whether Beck can give more content to the rather tenuous idea of ecological democracy. We need, he suggests, an enhanced and broadened democracy because the operation of conventional political and legal institutions seems to be constricted by obsolete relations of definition. They are obsolete because they belong to the age of side-effects, nineteenth-century classical industrialism. The relations of definition refer to the ‘rules, institutions and resources which determine the identification and definition of risks’ or to the ‘legal, epistemological and cultural matrix in which risk policy is organised and practised’ (Beck, 1997a, p. 29; 1995b, pp. 129–33). The result is that the origin and extent of environmental degradation and hazards remain obscured for those working within the framework of these definitions. This leads in its turn to what Beck calls the organized

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irresponsibility of risk society: the hazards proliferate continuously and become large scale, it becomes most urgent to do something about them and their sources, but the institutions responsible for the security and safety of the citizens are not able to respond adequately at all. Therefore the legitimacy of these institutions is seriously undermined. Beck’s general remedy here takes its starting-point in a reversal of Marx’s familiar thesis about Feuerbach: Thinking must be changed so that the world of modernity can be renewed with its own origins and demands. Only the power of concepts can open the political space to reforms, not to mention an (ecological) reformation of the Western symbiosis of capitalism and democracy, which only appears to be eternal. (Beck, 1997a, p. 32) We also need an enhanced and broadened democracy because reflexive modernization touches science itself (Beck, 1992a, p. 155). In that connection, the meaning of ecological democracy becomes: liberation from a one-sided dependence in ‘all the details of life and death issues’ on judgements of experts, scientific or otherwise, orthodox or critical. ‘Is the only alternative still an authoritarian technocracy or a critical one? Or is there a way to counter the incapacitation and expropriation of daily life in the civilization of threat?’ (Beck, 1992b, p. 120; 1995b, p. 184). What are we to make of all this? Especially, what type of democracy could accommodate Beck’s responsible modernity adequately? He does not give any clear answer to this question but, I submit, there is at least one model, that of deliberative democracy, which has some affinity with the content and the aspiration of ecological democracy. This is so because deliberative democracy tends to give a central place to general interests, such as maintaining biodiversity or the quality of natural resources, at least more so than the usual forms of liberal democracy. Theories of deliberative democracy and the debates between adherents of its different varieties are sophisticated and complex. So I cannot even begin to do justice to the complexities involved (see Bohman and Rehg, 1997). It should suffice here to characterize the common core of deliberative democracy and to indicate why it would provide an appropriate context for deliberation about the normative issues on Beck’s (reconstructed) agenda for ecological democracy. Using Elster’s distinction between the market and the forum as two different ways in which social decisions may come about, one can say that deliberative democracy belongs unambiguously to the forum. The

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‘market’, especially when it fails, of course, stands for politics as the aggregation of given, pre-political preferences, reached by way of conflicts between interests, and compromise. Voting, in the economic theory of democracy, is essentially a private act similar to buying and selling and guided by considerations of instrumental rationality. The ‘forum’ stands for ‘transformation of preferences’ through rational and public discussion (Elster, 1997, pp. 4, 11, 25). The procedures and institutions of the forum should be divorced from those of the market. The ‘forum’ implies public deliberation between free and equal citizens, which is oriented towards public interests or the common good. Here I leave aside the question whether public deliberation is intrinsically valuable or only has instrumental significance in that it leads to better decision-making. That it should lead to improved decision-making is not contested. I also leave aside the question, hotly debated between adherents of different varieties of deliberative democracy, whether agreements reached by rational and public deliberation are right in some sense or correct just because they have been reached in that way or via an idealized procedure – fair or pure proceduralism – or because they meet some (independent?) epistemic standard of justification (see Bohman and Rehg, 1997, introduction, for these and other important tensions within the theory of deliberative democracy). Not contested is that the procedures of deliberative democracy should be informed by liberal and egalitarian values. And for some theorists of deliberative democracy, this means that citizens should have not only equal opportunity of participation in political decision-making but also, for example, ‘equal opportunity of access to political influence’ or ‘equally effective social freedom’ (Bohman and Rehg, 1997, p. xxiii). Not surprisingly, deliberative democracy turns out to be a demanding ideal. ‘The ultimate test’, as Bohman and Rehg (1997, p. xxvii) rightly say, ‘of the fully developed conception of deliberative democracy will be practical: whether its proposed reforms can enrich and improve democratic practice and overcome the many obstacles to the public use of reason in contemporary political life’, such as increasing inequality and pervasive pluralism. It should be pointed out that the practice of deliberative democracy is not confined to the formal political institutions of liberal democracy but can flourish in the deliberative forums created by a more extensive democratization of society, e.g. as envisaged by theories of associative democracy.4 It remains to spell out what has been somewhat implicit so far, namely that a robust affinity seems to exist between Beck’s ideal ecological democracy and the conception of deliberative democracy.

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This becomes plausible if we remember Beck’s call for the liberation from one-sided dependence on experts, critical or not, and if we connect that with his emphasis on the need to change thinking in order to break through the prevailing relations of definition. Moreover, we have a list of still open normative questions, which are public interest oriented and answers to which can only acquire democratic legitimacy if they are reached by way of public and rational deliberation between concerned parties or their representatives. To sum up, we have the questions of how and according to what standards to regulate technological development and the (globalizing) market economy; how to determine, in situations of conflict, the relation between social and environmental justice; how to determine the limits (and for whom) to environmental consumption, that is how to determine specific requirements of environmental justice in the context of pursuing sustainable patterns of production and consumption; and, lastly, how to evaluate environmental risks, locally and globally, and global hazards in general.

Conclusion Liberal democracy does not have to go, then, if one takes sustainability seriously. On the contrary, its conventional institutions are even presupposed by the political innovations of risk society. On the other hand, its development in the direction of ecological democracy, that is presumably to a certain extent a kind of deliberative democracy based on broad participation of citizens, is urgently needed if risk society is going to be up to the ethical and other challenges of its own making.

Notes 1. My picture in this section is rather eclectic, with an emphasis on Beck’s publications in the 1990s. What is presented in this section is not intended as an outline of the relevant chapters of Risk Society. A very useful overview and critique of Beck’s sociology of risk is to be found in Goldblatt (1996), chapter 5, pp. 154–87. 2. I do not discuss in this paper another aspect of environmental justice relating to non-human creatures and natural systems. A good name would be ‘ecological justice’. The fact that I do not discuss it here does not mean I consider the subject unimportant. 3. See the text of the declaration in, for example, Nelissen, Van der Straaten and Klinkers (1997), pp. 380–4. 4. In connection with the environmental problematic I have explored the scope and power of associative reforms (Achterberg, 1996a,b).

Part III Rights

7 Constitutional Environmental Rights and Liberal Democracy1 Tim Hayward

Introduction This paper examines the case for pursuing ecological ends (including both environmental values and interspecies concerns) by constitutional means. Insofar as ecological values can be assimilated to human interests (and in Hayward (1998) I argue that they can be to a very considerable extent), it is appropriate to incorporate them into a normative theory of the basic institutions of society: this makes it possible to bring them under distributive principles, and, in many cases, to secure their protection by means of rights. In the first section I examine the case for constitutional environmental rights in particular, and the more general case for entrenching a constitutional recognition of ecological interests as on a par with generalizable interests in the securing and equitable distribution of other social goods. In the second section I highlight some of the questions such a proposal raises for political theory, both normative and explanatory. Among these are concerns about the legitimacy of entrenching a recognition of certain types of interest, concerns which are likely to be heightened when the protection of non-human goods is added in; there are also concerns about the effectualness of relying on constitutional measures in the context of a liberal state when global and regional developments tending already to undermine the state’s privileged political position are compounded by the transboundary issues that characterize so many ecological problems. I do not claim to offer comprehensive answers to such questions, but I do want to claim that the questions merit being placed high on the agenda for further research by political theorists, since they go to issues at the core of their discipline, touching not only on the substantive meaning of 117

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social justice and the good life within a polity, but also on the nature of liberal democracy and the state.

Ecological values and basic institutions What it means to incorporate ecological values into political theory at the level of basic normative principles, I want to suggest, is, firstly, to treat environmental services and resources as social goods whose distribution is a question of justice, on the grounds that they represent generalizable interests warranting recognition at the level of basic institutions. It also means entrenching a recognition that not all ‘environmental goods’ can or should be treated as resources or services, and that there should therefore be substantive restrictions on the utilization of certain environmental goods – especially, for instance, nonrenewable resources and environmental features of special scientific or cultural interest: and this is on the ground that enlightened interests in their protection are as legitimate as the enlightened interests in social justice as more conventionally understood (Hayward, 1998, chapter 5). Furthermore, it means there should be the possibility of placing restrictions on the treatment as environmental goods of those non-human beings who ‘have a good’ of their own: this is on the ground that it is unjustified to disregard their moral claims on us (Hayward, 1998, chapter 6; 1997). Because they cannot directly press these claims themselves, a minimal requirement on the state would be to underwrite the provision of suitable fora and legal norms permitting a fair hearing for those groups who seek to represent them; it is also arguable, though, that at least some animals who are most seriously affected by planned human practices are entitled to constitutional guarantees of more direct protection. Because these principles warrant incorporation into what Rawls calls the basic institutions of society, it is appropriate that they should receive articulation at the constitutional level. Accordingly I shall briefly flesh out the case for pursuing ecological ends by constitutional means, and indicate how the principles guiding the basic institutions of an ecologically sustainable society may look different from those of a more conventional liberal democracy. Constitutional environmentalism and the case for rights Why adopt a constitutional approach to environmentalism? One major reason is that environmental problems today are such that

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adequate solutions to them will require large-scale cooperation within and between polities: to secure such cooperation it is necessary that there be widely agreed general principles about its basis; for such principles to be binding and legitimate within a polity they need to be set above the vicissitudes of everyday political expediency. Principles established at the constitutional level appear to fit the bill. It is in fact noteworthy that, throughout the world, a growing number of states are writing environmental provisions into their constitutions, and some have also taken the step of entrenching environmental rights.2 An advantage of pursuing environmental ends by means of constitutional rights is that in doing so one can draw normative and practical support from an established discourse of fundamental human rights. The humans rights discourse, which enjoys considerable consensus in international law, embodies just the sort of non-negotiable values which seem to be required for environmental legislation. Rights mark the seriousness, the ‘trumping’ status, of environmental concern; they articulate this concern in an established institutionalized discourse (Aiken, 1992), and they link the concern to citizens’ interests rather than to supposedly ‘objective’ criteria (Wynne, 1994) of environmental harm, thereby allowing what count as environmental goods or bads to be seen as questions for political deliberation, and thus as related to other aspects of social justice. Indeed, the view has been advanced, not least influentially by the Brundtland Report (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987), that the goals of environmentalism can be presented as essentially an extension of the existing human rights discourse. Certainly there is evidence that governments, as well as social scientists and environmental campaigners, consider this a natural extension of human rights. Legal theorists have identified a potential for mobilizing existing human rights, so that in campaigning for effective implementation of existing international instruments, environmental protection will follow automatically.3 Thus, as Boyle (1996) argues, existing civil and political rights can be mobilized to foster an environmentally friendly political order and go a long way to enabling concerned groups to voice their objections to environmental damage; moreover, serious environmental damage is frequently accompanied by civil and political oppression, and so there is reason to see common cause between struggles against both.4 Social and economic rights can also be mobilized to contribute to environmental protection through substantive standards of human wellbeing: rights to health, decent living conditions and decent working conditions may all bear directly upon environmental conditions. As well

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as this potential for mobilizing existing human rights, there is also the possibility of reinterpreting them to enhance their environmental implications (Ksentini, 1994). The right to life, for example, could in principle ‘be deemed to be infringed where the state fails to abate the emission of highly toxic products into supplies of drinking water’ (Anderson, 1996, p. 7). The right to life might be deemed, more generally, to include the right to live in a healthy environment, a pollution-free environment and even an environment in which ecological balance is protected by the state. In the European context, another human right which has been used to set precedents for environmental protection is the right to respect for one’s private and family life and home.5 As well as mobilizing and adapting existing human rights, there is also the suggestion that new, more specifically environmental, rights may constitute part of a ‘new generation’ of human rights.6 Since the Stockholm agreement of 1972, and the further impetus given by the Brundtland Report in 1987, the idea that humans have a fundamental right to an adequate environment has gained growing acceptance. If one accepts the immanent logic that has led from civil and political to social and economic rights, one can perhaps see how its further development can lead in the direction of environmental rights. For if certain social and economic rights are material preconditions for the effective enjoyment of civil and political rights, it seems no less evident that the effective enjoyment of an adequate environment is a precondition for the enjoyment of any of those rights. Nevertheless, even setting aside worries about the human rights discourse itself,7 with regard more specifically to environmental rights various issues raised by legal theorists command our attention. To begin with, the idea of a human right to ‘an adequate environment’, understood as a substantive right, raises various problems. For instance, it is notoriously difficult to find legally serviceable definitions of ‘adequate environment’ or the kindred locutions to be encountered in contemporary constitutions. There are also associated problems of enforcement and adjudication – often establishing who the right is to be enforced against can be very difficult. Another problem is that of attaining a sufficiently strong and enduring consensus with regard to their inviolability in relation to competing – non-environmental – claims. So while some substantive rights could perhaps gradually be implemented – along with conceptually related rights to health, housing and education – it is realistic to expect greater prospects of success to depend on linking substantive claims to procedural claims.8

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Procedural rights relevant to environmental protection include rights to know (i.e. a right to environmental information, including rights to government records and to independent ecological and health research which has a bearing on the ecological welfare, rights to be informed of development proposals); rights to participate in the determination of environmental standards; rights to object to ministerial and agency environmental decisions; and rights to bring action against departments, agencies, firms and individuals that fail to carry out their duties according to law. (Eckersley, 1996, p. 230) As well as pragmatic considerations, there are also principled arguments favouring procedural rights – in particular, in relation to enhanced democratic participation in environmental decision-making. Environmental protection is never a purely technical affair:9 it involves political decision-making about what is a problem and how to address it, and the outputs of decisions also have effects raising questions of distributive justice. It also needs to be noted, though, that while democracy may be enhanced by procedural rights of participation in decision-making processes, effective opportunities to participate may be far from equal for all citizens; in fact, given that these rights are usually exercised most effectively by particular interest groups, there is actually a democratic case for placing constitutional constraints on their rights to influence decisions affecting the wider public. Participation rights are arguably most important for NGOs and other pressure groups. Certainly, NGOs fulfil an important civic function by holding governments and intergovernmental institutions accountable to the public (Bichsel, 1996, p. 252); advocacy groups give a voice to sectors of society not represented by other pressure groups and so these NGOs empower a greater number of citizens to participate in the political process (ibid., p. 253). Nevertheless, while they help to broaden the political agenda, their own specific agendas can be more particularistic. NGOs are not democratic or even political institutions: their enhanced role needs to be subject to democratic constraints which constitutions can in principle provide (cf. Cameron and Mackenzie, 1996). Another relevant development, which is potentially in tension with the rights approach, is that environmental security is now increasingly considered – by social scientists and governments alike – to be on a par with military and economic security as a concern touching the very stability of existing states (cf. Eckersley, 1996): hence the question of how states’ security interests relate to citizens’ and groups’ interests in

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environmental protection is also one of constitutional significance. An advantage of rights, in relation to this issue, is that it sets down certain markers for where citizens’ interests, or citizens’ interpretations of threats, should be recognized as legitimate by the state. Certainly, one would not expect environmental rights themselves to be a panacea for all ecological and social challenges, but it is also worth noting that they are relevant even in relation to alternative environmentalist strategies. The principles these seek to apply – such as the polluter pays principle, the precautionary principle, environmental impact assessment and sustainable development – themselves raise rights issues. The operation of the precautionary principle and environmental impact assessment (EIA), for instance, rely chiefly on procedural rights to know and to influence proposed environmentally sensitive developments, and where the precautionary principle is accepted as a decision rule, as for instance in Europe, it can be the basis of rights claims; also, there is no reason why claims to EIA procedures could not generate justiciable obligations (Anderson, 1996). As well as justiciable rights, there are also more fundamental rights issues that arise out of tensions within and between these principles. For instance, while the principle that the polluter should pay typically, in practice, issues in the right to buy tradeable permits to pollute, it could be interpreted to imply a right of others to be paid compensation by polluters.10 Most generally, the principle of sustainability itself can be construed – as it is by Brundtland – as essentially a question of balancing competing rights – of equity, futurity and environment. This question of balancing competing rights brings us back to the basic issue that environmental interests can conflict with interests protected by traditional human rights, particularly those of economic freedom and cultural development, and that environmental interests themselves are subject to conflicting interpretations. This leads to the question of whether and how different categories of interest – whether or not directly protected as justiciable rights – can be mapped onto other social goods and subject to appropriate distributive principles. Classifying environmental goods as social goods On the face of it, while procedural rights could be viewed as a fairly straightforward extension of existing civil and political liberties, substantive rights could seem more akin to social and economic rights. It might therefore be tempting to see their respective objects as assimilable to two distinct types of social goods along the lines of the Rawlsian distinction between liberties (subject to equal distribution)

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and income/wealth (subject to differential distribution). But this is problematic if the point of substantive environmental rights is to protect everyone equally. An alternative view would be that a substantive right to an adequate environment is a right of non-interference, albeit in the medium of environmental manipulation – and hence to be considered as an extension of liberty. To preserve the Rawlsian distinction in an environmental context could mean differentiating between the right to an adequate environment, understood as freedom from environmental harms or bads, on the one hand, and a right to resource use, on the other. The significance of this would be that the former comes under the equality principle applied to liberties and the latter under the difference principle, as applied to economic goods (income and wealth). In practice, avoidance of ecological bads and enjoyment of ecological goods are not always easy to distinguish, since an unpolluted environment can be considered a resource, for instance, but conceptually the distinction is important – especially if one assumes that two different distributive principles are applicable to other basic social goods. So while I am not necessarily making a presumption in favour of Rawls’s principles of justice, it is helpful to take these as an illustrative benchmark against which to introduce some general considerations about how ecological goods can be fitted into normative political theory. Liberties Rawls’s first principle of distributive justice states that ‘each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive total system of equal basic liberties compatible with a similar system of liberty for all’ (Rawls, 1972, p. 250). Under this heading, in addition to standard personal, civil and political liberties, we might therefore also include a right to protection from some kinds of environmental harm. Thus as well as rights of free access to environmental information (civil), rights of fair access to environmental decision-making (political) and a right to a fair hearing when representing interests of non-persons (legal) which this would yield, basic liberties could also include a right of freedom from (personal or collective) environmental harms. This could have far-reaching implications, since it focuses the issue of which environmental bads are to be seen as harms definitively to be avoided, as opposed to costs to be offset against benefits accruing from practices causing them. Part of the point here is to entrench a recognition that some environmental goods and services should not be considered as tradeable commodities at all.

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Income and wealth The principle for the distribution of this type of social good, the ‘difference principle’, states that ‘social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are … to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged … ’ (Rawls, 1972, p. 302). If it is appropriate to consider freedom from environmental bads as a kind of liberty, then insofar as environmental goods are considered as resources, they would seem naturally to fall under this heading as part and parcel of an adequate definition of wealth.11 However, if one accepts Rawls’s difference principle as appropriate to the distribution of income and wealth, one nevertheless needs to recognize that what this means, when ecological conditions are taken fully into account, is quite different from what it would be assumed to mean on typical liberal capitalist assumptions, and, indeed, on Rawls’s own explicit assumption of moderate material scarcity (ibid., pp. 127–8). The difference principle specifies that inequalities are unjustified unless the (relatively) worse off members of society are (absolutely) better off with them than they would be without them: the standard implication of this, on the assumption of moderate scarcity, is that economic incentives to increase production are thereby allowed, since all can eventually benefit from it. This is because the more economic goods that are generated, the more there are available for distribution, but if ecological costs are factored fully into costs of production the situation may look quite different. Thus if there are serious ecological constraints on economic growth, and therefore on what might ‘trickle down’, then relative improvements of the requisite sort might not be possible, and there may arise rather a need to provide an absolute baseline safety net.12 The effect of this could be to provide for much greater socioeconomic equity than would be expected on unecological liberal assumptions about the circumstances of justice (Benton, 1997).13 Environmental goods that do not fall under either of Rawls’s headings These are, chiefly, the goods which do not directly or tangibly accrue to an individual in such a way that asserting an interest or right in them could in principle be a clear-cut matter and which therefore currently receive little recognition. These are: (a) the kind of good represented as ‘existence’ or ‘aesthetic’ value; and (b) goods of non-human beings. Goods of type (a) could come in for indirect protection as afforded by discursive decision-making fora, and hence indirectly under the liberty principle; they could also be conceived under the heading of cultural values. In either case, however, the protection would not be

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direct or substantive, since there is the possibility that participants in the discourse may not agree to endorse the values in question. But this leaves the same situation as applies to cultural values more generally: these can be contested within and between cultures, and certainly the value attached to the physical environment has varied significantly over history and across societies. Appeals to cultural values, therefore, are unlikely to afford the guarantees of the strong (and non-relativistic) sort of protection envisaged by those theorists (e.g. O’Neill, 1997; Sagoff, 1988) who presuppose a strong connection between determinate environmental norms and cultural values in general. Nevertheless, it would arguably produce protection as strong as could be politically warranted. The key point, perhaps, is simply that mechanisms for democratic decisions should be in place to ensure that decisions are taken at the appropriate level – i.e. by those most clearly affected. The situation regarding goods of type (b), however, is different. Here it is not simply a matter of conflicting human interests in relation to their environment, for it raises the issue of non-human interest bearers, and thus the question of whether it is possible or desirable to expand the range of bearers of rights to include non-humans. Whereas constitutional rights have hitherto been restricted to humans, claims that certain primates should also enjoy such rights are currently gaining support (Cavalieri and Singer, 1993), and claims for animal rights more generally are also being advanced – even rights for natural entities other than animals have been canvassed (Stone, 1974). However, the more the range of bearers is expanded, the more problematic the rights discourse becomes both in principle and in practice: on the one hand, the less the new bearers resemble humans, the more tenuous appears – to many14 – the connection with the reasons which give human rights their moral force in the first place; on the other, this expansion of rights may tend to dilute their force as rights, since there are likely to be so many competing claims that not all can adequately be redeemed, something which downgrades the discourse of rights as such. Certainly, there are many difficulties in drawing up and implementing legal rights for non-humans, but this does not mean that other measures for the protection of non-human interests are not possible. The (probably insuperable) difficulties in the way of justiciable rights for (at least most) other creatures do not prevent some degree of constitutional level provision for their protection.15 It might nevertheless be objected that there appears to be no direct or immediately effective human interest in the pursuit of non-human goods, and so the claimed advantage of linking ecological values to

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human interests would not seem to apply here. My response to this problem is in part guided by the thought that the same point could be made in relation to many human goods too. Empirical individuals and groups often have no immediate interest in relation to other humans either, but this does not prevent them recognizing a more general or indirect interest in the provision of social and public goods. For theories accepting the assumption of such an interest, it does not need to be empirically proven whether individuals actually care about other humans in order for the equitable distribution of social goods to be justified. So on the basis of the argument that there is no sustainable argument for pure human preference and that self-respect entails respect for non-humans (Hayward, 1998, chapter 6), I would claim that it is not appropriate to demand a higher standard of proof in relation to nonhumans. So, without denying that there are considerably more difficulties dealing with non-human interests, I nevertheless maintain the claim that political theorists have to recognize that relations with non-humans can in principle, and should, be normatively regulated. In practice this is only likely to happen by being harnessed to and picked up by (human) interest groups. But what can be done is to allow such groups particular rights: to alter the burden of proof and rules of standing in relation to animal rights cases, for instance, and, more generally, to favour and promote institutions aimed at inculcating ‘care’ for non-humans.

Ecological democracy I am aware that such proposals, when considered for their political implications, raise many questions. I shall not attempt definitive answers to them, but I shall suggest how they might in principle be answered in a manner consistent with the broad normative principles I have proposed. One question area concerns the potential conflict between constitutional and democratic principles. Well-known concerns about the ‘democratic deficit’ of constitutionally entrenched rights and norms16 – in particular, their immunity to ‘democratic’ revision, and the ‘undue’ influence that can accrue to the judiciary – would seem to be fuelled with added reasons for consternation when even animals are seen as a virtual part of the polity! Against this it can be pointed out, though, that the standard line of reply – that there are certain principles and rights that merit immunity from the pure majority will of the populace at any given moment, and good democratic reasons for the judicial checking of legislative and executive power – would hold in relation to

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the protection of ecological interests if it holds for generalizable interests at all. This view is broadly consistent with what appears to be an emerging consensus about the relation between democracy and ecological values,17 namely that accepting the traditional value of democracy in allowing the reasoned articulation of competing views, it will favour the recognition of ecological values just to the extent that these are reasonably attended to; if these are insufficiently recognized at present, this is because actual democratic conditions fall short of what is required for the discursive practices they advocate. Certainly, constitutional provisions will not be sufficient to guarantee the development of an appropriate democratic culture, but they can nevertheless provide necessary conditions for it, such as rights to access to resources, education, information and political participation. Hence, in principle, there would appear to be complementarity between constitutional environmentalism and a commitment to discursive and – what for some it entails – ecological democracy. For the constitutional approach can be geared to underwriting the requisite conditions for enlightened willformation whose purpose it is discursive democracy’s to attain. Nevertheless, the question of what ecological democratization can or should mean in practice is much more complicated. When constitutional proposals are advanced in the context of a liberal state they can always expect a mixed reception and in some ways unpredictable outcomes. What makes a liberal democracy potentially responsive to normative innovations also makes it responsive to the interests of those who would oppose them; so constitutional proposals aimed at shifting the effective balance of power are liable to meet resistance. The appropriate attitude to the institutions of liberal democracy, I would therefore suggest, is one of immanent criticism.18 Hence we might appreciate that the normative ideal of a sustainable society is in some respects already implicit in modern constitutional democracies. Instituted and evolved to govern, by accommodation, plural and shifting constellations of interests that develop with the growth of a dynamic economy and the accelerating social changes brought with it, the political stability of a modern constitutional democracy is not premised on static social relations or productive forces. Liberal democracy is in many ways a flexible and resilient political form: its constitutional arrangements are typically such as to allow a range of freedoms to citizens and economic agents, with political regulation of them kept to that minimum necessary to favour an equilibrium of social and economic forces. This enhances its feedback capacities, that is its responsiveness to signals of ecological disruption emanating from various sectors of society.19

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Nevertheless, the sustainability of liberal democracies with capitalist economies is premised on an assumption of the indefinite sustainability of economic growth, an assumption which appears seriously questionable from an ecological perspective. Moreover, the emphasis on growth, as opposed to what it is for,20 combined with the domination of market values, means there can also be certain important interests people have whose effective expression is systematically blocked. Within liberal democracies, policy problems tend to be defined and disaggregated largely in response to the dominant pattern of interest representation (Dryzek, 1996, p. 113). Liberal democratic states have little disincentive to externalize ecological costs both spatially and temporally; they also provide very limited opportunities for vicarious representation of non-citizens’ interests – or, indeed, for the ecological interests of their own citizens (Eckersley, 1996, p. 215). Longer-term and more generalizable interests tend to mobilize less effectively in the cut and thrust of normal politics than short-term partisan interests. Moreover, even those public interests taken up and advocated by nonstate associations, such as environmental organizations, are vulnerable to liberal democratic ‘framing devices’ (ibid.).21 The question of the extent to which reliance on institutions of the liberal state is appropriate involves not only normative but also empirical considerations. Ecological imperatives are arising within, and in some respects bringing about, a changing political context, both nationally and globally, that calls into question previous assumptions about the nature and role of the nation-state. While the state remains the main source of constitutional and environmental law, and while international environmental politics is still strongly shaped by national interests, including those expressed in terms of ‘environmental security’, the pressures (governmental and non-governmental) towards globalization on the one hand and the principle of subsidiarity on the other are bringing about noticeable changes. Indeed, it is arguable that the traditional conception of the nation-state as the bearer of a monopoly of legitimate force within a territory is gradually being undermined in each aspect of its definition: states no longer always have a de facto mono-poly of force both because of the growing power and influence of transnational economic agencies and because of the increase in transnational legal agreements and legislation; states’ legitimacy is increasingly called into question, among other reasons, because of their perceived inability adequately to respond to environmental crises (Beck, 1995a); states are increasingly difficult to identify uniquely with a territory, not only because of competing claims of ethnic groups,

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within and across their borders, to collective rights of self-development, but also, and more especially, because when transboundary ecological processes are taken into view, the very notion of a bounded territory is undermined (Kuehls, 1996). With the emergence of new sources of legislative authority, of new political actors and rights-bearers, there is increasing conceptual, as well as normative, complexity involved in balancing the interests of individual citizens against both states and non-state collective agencies, and then again against environmental considerations. An adequate grasp of the import of empirically shifting power relations in this complex context therefore requires a sound theoretical basis. Certainly, there are many political questions which obviously cannot and should not be dealt with at the constitutional level. Much debate about solutions to ecological problems concerns the area of social life that they come under: thus there is debate for instance about whether or when economic, fiscal, legal, legislative or some other type of measure is appropriate. Within each area, there is then also room for debate about the normative basis of the measures to be taken: for instance, whether they are to be preventative, punitive, compensatory, redistributive or incentive-providing. Given this range of uncertainties, combined with all the uncertainties regarding the nature, extent, impact and distribution of ecological problems, there is a strong case for enhancing the democratic capacities of state institutions to respond to new ecological imperatives formulated ‘from below’. In particular, this could mean allowing more feedback and input from the associations of civil society. Insofar as political theory is concerned with associations of civil society a major concern is to understand not only the formal policy processes of the state, but also the opportunities that are or should be available for other political actors to influence policy-making. A rough definition of civil society, as this term is understood by NGOs (cf. Jacobs, 1996) and theorists of discursive democracy (Dryzek, 1996, p. 117), is that it is composed of all social life not encompassed by the state on the one hand, or the economy on the other. It is the site for the articulation and representation of those interests which are disadvantaged within the existing political system – including various new social movements and representatives of other environmental and animal rights constituencies. In its political aspects, civil society ‘can be defined in functional terms as public action in response to failure of state and/or economy’ (ibid.); it ‘can also be a source of pressure on state and economic actors, through protests, boycotts, campaigns, and

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so forth’ (ibid.). Given the desirability, for both ecological and democratic reasons, for greater discursive democracy (cf. Dryzek, 1987), there is a need to support and assess the ongoing research into the appropriate design of deliberative institutions on which many theoretical questions bear (cf. Lafferty and Meadowcroft, 1996): examples here include public hearings (especially in association with impact assessment), right-to-know laws, alternative dispute resolution techniques, public inquiries, interest group access and so on (Dryzek, 1996, p. 111). Nevertheless, while civil society is undoubtedly an important site for the introduction into the political system of ecological values, there is also need for a degree of caution, as I have already noted, about the normative status of its actors and their claims. It is often assumed that discourses emerging from deliberative fora or public spheres in ‘civil society’ articulate interests that are necessarily more environmental and more legitimate than those protected or promoted by the state. But these interests are still particularistic, in relation not only to fundamental interests, but also to other legitimate interests and discourses. If discursive democracy is to maintain its distinctiveness from political horse-trading, it must aim to secure the conditions for conduct in accordance with the Habermasian regulatory ideal of a discourse so transparent as to articulate fundamental norms. Of course, in practice, conditions approximating the ideal seldom if ever prevail. Hence there is reason in practice to be cautious about what exactly to expect. It is to be remembered that if participants are to ascertain what their interests really are, this is not straightforwardly a case of discovering them, but is always also likely to involve some degree of transformation of them. So to embark on a process of interest transformation can only be legitimate if it does not undermine the protection of legitimate interests as initially perceived (including the ‘mere preferences’ Sagoff excludes from deliberation proper). This point cuts quite deeply into the argument for deliberative democracy: if it depends on a right of citizens to participate in deliberative fora, then the terms and conditions of participation need to be established; the terms of participation must themselves make reference to interests – interests that need to be established prior to any process of interest clarification. Of course, the problem cuts both ways: interests not recognized as legitimate can in practice get excluded merely because they do not fit the dominant view (cf. Lukes, 1974). It seems clear, therefore, that there is a need both for constitutional guarantees and limits regarding rights of participation etc. and for maximum opportunities for dissident views to have a hearing. In particular, while there are strong

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arguments for strengthening the scope for action of associations of civil society, there must be safeguards against these undermining adequate recognition of other individual, including economic, interests. It has also to be acknowledged that economic imperatives, while seriously qualified, are not entirely obviated by ecological considerations. For the time being, it certainly seems that some of the most effective measures for environmental protection – such as ecological taxes – presuppose the continuance of property rights and economic freedoms; moreover, ethical concerns about the alleviation of poverty, as well as realism about the effective force of conventional economic interests, combine as reasons for caution about too swingeing or utopian a critique of economic development which neglects the co-requisite of global social justice. But if critique has to take its cue from actually existing conditions, this does not mean it cannot draw its inspiration from a more utopian vision. A basic premise of any normative political theory, I believe, should be the desirability of finding institutions, processes and policies that favour the articulation of the most enlightened interests of the day – interests on the basis of which the very meaning of economic development would be transformed to take account of the quality of life of all. For the most enlightened interests of the day to become the most effectual interests there is a long way to go – enlightenment, as a social process, does not come all at once. I do not wish to claim that it would be a straightforward matter to bring empirical interests to coincide with ecological goods. But I have assumed that it is only if they are linked to interests that ecological goods will be promoted at all.

Notes 1. For helpful comments on earlier versions of this chapter, the author would like to thank, as well as fellow participants at the 1998 ECPR Workshop: Cecile Fabre, David Miller, Avner de-Shalit, Graham Smith and the participants at the Political Theory Seminar, Nuffield College, Oxford, 1998. 2. Practically all national constitutions drafted or revised in the past decade have included some environmental provision: the total number is something in excess of seventy. Those which specifically provide environmental rights include: Angola (1991) Art. 24; Argentina (1994) Art. 41; Belarus (1994) Art. 46; Belgium (1994) Art. 23.4 (an environmental right is included as part of the right to a life of human dignity); Brazil (1996) Art. 225; Bulgaria (1991) Art. 55; Chechnya (1992) Art. 34; Chile (1980; 1997 reforms) Art. 19.8; Columbia (1991) Art. 79; Congo (1992) Art. 46; Costa Rica (1994) Art. 50; Ecuador (1996) Arts. 44–48; Ethiopia (unofficial draft, 1994) Art. 44; Honduras (1982) Art. 145; Macedonia (1993) Art. 43; Mongolia (1992)

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3. 4.

5.

6.

7.

Art. 16.2; Nicaragua (1987) Art. 60; Norway (1995) Art. 110b; Paraguay (1992) Art. 7; Philippines Sec. 16, Art. II (Douglas-Scott, 1996, p. 110 n. 10); Portugal (1992) Art. 66; Russia (1993) Art. 42; Slovakia (1992) Art. 44; Slovenia (1991) Art 72; South Africa (1996) Art. 24; South Korea (1987) Art. 35; Spain (1992) Art. 45; Turkey (1980) Art. 56. The Czech Constitution provides that the Czech and Slovak Charter of Fundamental Rights and Freedoms of 1991, which includes an environmental right, is ‘a part of the constitutional order of the Czech Republic’ (see Lippott, 1995). Countries without declared environmental rights in their constitutions, but whose Supreme Courts have ruled them to be inferred by existing rights, include India (see Anderson, 1996) and Pakistan (see Lau, 1996). State constitutions in the USA which provide environmental rights include: Hawaii, Illinois, Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. In Canada, an Environmental Bill of Rights was also introduced in Ontario. On the general advantages of using existing human rights rather than introducing new ones see Merrills (1996). While in a European context, for instance, there have been very few cases of applying existing civil and political rights directly to environmental complaints, and even these have met with mixed success (Churchill, 1996; Douglas-Scott, 1996), elsewhere, especially where civil rights are less wellprotected, this linkage is much more important: see, for example, the chapters by Anderson, Fabra, Lau and Harding in Boyle and Anderson (1996). Article 8 of the European Convention provides that ‘everyone has the right to respect for his private and family life [and] his home’. This provision has been used to set precedents for environmental protection, most significantly in the case of Lopez-Ostra v. Spain. ‘Here, for the first time, the organs of the European Convention found a breach of the Convention as a consequence of environmental harm. The applicant suffered serious health problems from the fumes from a tannery waste treatment plant … Her attempt to obtain compensation from the Spanish courts was completely unsuccessful. The European Court of Human Rights held that there had been a breach of Article 8’ (Churchill, 1996, p. 94). Desgagné sees this as a development in the case law of the European Commission which reflects a growing awareness of the links between protection of human rights and protection of the environment (Desgagné, 1995, p. 263). ‘Third generation or solidarity rights – usually [include] peace, development and a good environment – generally inhere in groups rather than individuals … ’ (Boyle, 1996, p. 46). Scepticism about fundamental rights has been renewed at each stage of their development, but the common theme of objections – from the misgivings voiced by Burke and Bentham concerning the French Declaration, and Marxist critiques of their class base, through various mutations of legal positivism to contemporary postmodernist objections to imperialism – is that the rights discourse (at each stage of its development) presents as universal a set of norms that are in fact particular. Today, this scepticism most often attaches to claims about their cultural relativity. But given the existence of an African Charter, European and American Conventions as well as International Covenants binding on all member states of the United Nations, such generalized scepticism would seem to be moot (although for a

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18.

19.

10.

11.

12. 13.

more principled response, see Vincent, R., 1986). A similar point would apply to criticisms of the rights discourse as an ethical discourse, to be contrasted with other ethical vocabularies, although I have elsewhere tried to accommodate some of the concerns about its limitations (Hayward, 1995, chapter 4; Hayward, 1998, chapter 6). Where serious and legitimate disagreement remains, in my view, is over issues within the discourse concerning the content and weight of certain specific rights (especially, for example, in areas like property and family life) and related questions (as signalled in an earlier note) of whether rights attach to individuals only or also to collectivities. Such issues would obviously need to be addressed within the overall research programme here proposed. Robyn Eckersley suggests that ‘the effectiveness of any substantive environmental rights presupposes the establishment of a wide range of environmental procedural rights’ (Eckersley, 1996, p. 230). She also illustrates how they can blend together: ‘Instead of an abstract, ambiguous “right to clean air and water”, an environmental bill of rights … might declare, say, that citizens have a right to ensure that environmental quality is maintained in accordance with the standards set by current environmental laws (standards which would undergo regular public review)’ (Eckersley, 1996, p. 230). Cf. Benton and Redclift (1994); to suppose it is to subscribe to one particular – managerial and positivistic – ideology: for an analysis of ideologies underpinning different environmental discourses see Williams and Matheny (1995). A different but conceptually related issue which has attained particular significance in the USA is whether environmental protection is a public good so that individual property owners obliged to contribute to it have a right to compensation or a matter for competing rights of affected individuals (entailing no compensation) has involved constitutional interpretation. This issue – turning on the distinction between ‘takings’, which require compensation, and ‘regulation’, which does not – has provoked dispute at the constitutional level. It has been argued that despite enshrinement of individual property rights in the Constitution, their constitutional inviolability has already been all but eroded in practice: ‘the Supreme Court has virtually abandoned all of the means it had established for preventing legislative interference with property rights’ (Nedelsky, 1990, p. 247). Nedelsky argues that ‘Either some other concept or value will have to replace it as a symbol of limited government, as the core of constitutionalism, or we may be facing a change in constitutionalism itself’ (p. 253). Russ Manning notes that health, which ought to be considered a primary social good, is conspicuously missing from Rawls’s list – rather, he lists it as a natural primary good (along with vigour, intelligence and imagination (Rawls, 1972, p. 62)). He assumes health is not so directly under social control. Environmental issues (and not only these) lead us to challenge this assumption (Manning, 1981, p. 159). Note, though, that the general conception of justice would support this: see Rawls (1972), p. 303. It will be noted that I am not including the question of concern for future generations under this heading, my reason being that theirs would not be a different type of good, and while, because not yet existent, they are a different

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14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19. 20. 21.

type of ‘bearer’, the issues are of a different kind. Indeed, it is arguable that distribution in relation to future generations can be dealt with in a Rawlsian paradigm, as, to some extent, they already are, via his ‘just savings’ principle. There remains, of course, much to be said on this topic. Although see Hayward (1998), chapter 6 for critical discussion of their reasons. It is a different matter, though, to grant that in the nature of the case there are some sorts of rights that simply cannot apply to animals – e.g. rights to political participation: see Benton (1993) for a fuller discussion. Hence in Europe, for instance, Directorate General XI (DG XI), which is responsible for implementing the European Union’s Environmental Policy, has so far issued the ‘Birds Directive’ and ‘Habitats Directive’. For up-to-date information see the DG XI website. For recent statements of these concerns see Bellamy (1995) and Waldron (1993); the view I would wish to support, by contrast, is set out by MacCormick (1993). This, at any rate, is my estimate of how the argument has gone, but there are of course a variety of other views: for a sense of the terms of the debate see the three collections edited, respectively, by Doherty and de Geus (1996), Mathews (1996) and Lafferty and Meadowcroft (1996). Cf. Hayward (1995) passim. It is noteworthy that even (eco-)Marxists now advocate ‘democratizing’ the state, not overthrowing it (cf. O’Connor, 1988). For a dissenting view, from an anarchist perspective, see Carter (1993). For more on the general pros and cons of liberal democracy in relation to environmental decision-making see Dryzek (1987, 1992). For more on the significance of this, see Hayward (1995), chapter 3. There is also the question of how far deliberative democracy can be generalized for society as a whole: in particular, there is the problem of coordination between ‘deliberative communities’, and also the issue of how abstract norms of free and impartial public discussion can provide a check against the power and interests of elites. Hence it is pertinent to ask, with Eckersley: ‘Should not green institutional design start from the premise of power disparities rather than from a regulative idea that is unlikely ever to obtain in practice?’ (1996, p. 218).

8 Privatizing Genetic Resources: Biodiversity, Communities and Intellectual Property Rights Markku Oksanen

Introduction1 It is undeniable that by definition a sustainable economic system supports biodiversity. Likewise, when biodiversity is on the decline due to human behaviour, it is explainable in part with reference to institutions, particularly to the lack of well-defined and stringently enforced property right regimes with regard to natural resources (Hanna et al., 1995; Sedjo, 1992; Anderson and Leal, 1991; Swanson, 1991, 1992, 1995). As a solution to the problem, following from this account, exclusive rights to natural resources should be created and allocated. Specifically, the standard answer of (economic) liberals points to the need to launch a process of privatization where resources are still common and to reinforce the existing private property regimes. However, it turns out to be anything but clear what it means to privatize and to whom property rights should be ascribed; the use of the notion ‘privatization’ is as equivocal as is that of ‘commons’ (see Aguilera-Klink, 1994). In this paper, I shall explore the idea of privatization of genetic resources in the context of biodiversity preservation. Of particular interest here is the political nature of the idea of ascribing intellectual property rights (IPRs) to indigenous and traditional communities. This idea, however, is problematic for liberal theory and the related economic view, because liberals tend to claim that communal ownership is by necessity unsustainable. Instead I attempt to emphasize the non-reducible nature of communal ownership and its equal legitimacy compared with other forms of ownership.

Biodiversity, IPRs and ownership Traditionally the protection of biodiversity has occurred by forbidding the use of species and establishing uninhabited protection areas. Due 135

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to the magnitude of biodiversity loss the ‘no-use’ or ‘hands-off’ policy is not invariably the preferable policy option. Moreover, the idea of uninhabited wilderness has been questioned from a variety of ideologically different perspectives. According to the critics, many of the wilderness areas and the diversity therein actually result from a systematic interaction between human and ecological systems so that people have adopted the task of maintaining local diversity (see, for example, Stevens, 1997; Adams and McShane, 1996; Anderson, 1996; Bromley, 1991; Swanson, 1991; Guha, 1989). Perhaps the most striking connection between the use and the rise of intraspecific diversity is in the case of crop cultivars (Busch et al., 1995; Fowler and Mooney, 1990). A new solution has been suggested, according to which the preservation of natural variety occurs best through use. This position has taken as its motto: ‘Use it or lose it.’ As an eminent advocate of the tactics, Swanson (1991, p. 182), puts it, ‘constructive utilization of the resources in the natural habitats can act to provide the incentive to keep them’ (cf. Freese, 1997; Wilson, 1992). To provide suitable conditions for ‘constructive utilization’ requires that we pay attention to social institutions that govern usage and allocate the benefits and burdens. The crucial institution in this respect is ownership. In the literature, the following fourfold classification of property right regimes is often used (see, for example, Bromley, 1991). By employing as a criterion the subject of the property relation, there are three idealized types of property owning: state, communal and private. State property belongs to the state that uses it according to the national legislation. Resources are communal property when an identifiable group of persons (indigenous or traditional communities, for example) governs their use as a collective entity. For example, traditional commons are used and managed under a local system of rules that is known as customary law which characteristically is evolved over a long period of time. These rules dictate how, when and by whom the resource basis can be exploited. In the case of private property, resources are owned by individuals who may use them in legally acceptable ways. The fourth case is that of resources existing outside legitimate or well-enforced property relations. They are called open-access resources. It is characteristic of these that no one exercises exclusive control over them and in principle – or in effect – everyone has a right of inclusion to use the resource (Baland and Platteau, 1996). Traditionally plant genetic resources have fallen into this category: since the beginning of cultivation, the genes of cultivated plants have been open-access

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resources, and only individual seeds and harvested crops could be owned. In practice, anyone having seeds of a plant is allowed to use them for cultivation year after year and no one is entitled to compensation from others. This view has been contested by those who are willing to regard genetically modified organisms as artefacts that can be patented or by those who think of possession of genetic material as relevant considering how those who control it can exact rewards and payments from others. The institutional means for enclosing genetic resources is intellectual property rights (IPRs). Property objects are typically divided into two major categories: tangible and intangible. Tangible property comprises physical objects such as land, household goods, individual animals or herds of animals. The extension of intangible, or intellectual, property includes a list of abstract objects such as patents, copyrights and trademarks. Also the property rules – i.e. rules that govern access to, use of and transfer of property objects – concerning tangible and intangible property are different in some respects. For instance, most IPRs, such as patents and copyrights, are limited in time and after 17 or 50 years, depending on the form of protection, the resource returns to the public domain (see Drahos, 1996). With regard to biodiversity loss, it has been claimed that the key to the problem is its sustainable use within a clearly defined system of property rights, implying the enclosure of the open-access resources. For example, it has been pointed out that the present open-access status of genetic resources ‘contributes to the current rates of tropical deforestation and habitat destruction’ (Sedjo, 1992, p. 200). Consequently, what should be done is to recognize IPRs to plant genetic resources that would ensure their continuous existence and at the same time allow their use. As the analysis that follows indicates, there is a tendency, and a need, to reconsider the legal standing of biological resources as a form of intellectual property. At issue is how it should be done.

Ownership as a prerequisite of sustainable use The focus of biodiversity preservation has been on the open-access characteristic of the resources and how it leads to under-investment and over-exploitation. For example, one of the functions of the Rio Convention on Biodiversity (CBD) is to govern the transfer of benefits that the use of the resources generates. Thus it would make the efforts to conserve genetic diversity advantageous by means of ensuring

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economic returns from investments in biodiversity protection. So, as Swanson (1995, p. 6) sees it, it would be right that: If one society generates information useful in the pharmaceutical industry by means of investing in natural capital (non-conversion of forest, etc.) whereas another generates information by investing in human capital (laboratory-based research and school-based training), each is equally entitled to an institution that recognizes that contribution. This reasoning is a response to the extensive conversion of natural habitats (particularly of forests and wetlands) to cropland and pastureland that has taken place in many parts of the world. The benefits of conversion have exceeded the benefits of harvesting the habitat as it naturally is. The solution to biodiversity loss lies in finding a market value, or a commodity value, for those areas in their natural or abundant state, for the various animal and vegetative populations inhabiting them and for the genetic information they provide. This is presumed to incite the owners to invest in non-depleting forms of use (Sedjo, 1992; Swanson, 1991). To speak about the market values and commercial promise of these resources is not pointless speculation, though exact estimates are hard to make, but, as one commentator puts it, ‘it is certainly enormous, and is bound to increase as advances in biotechnology broaden the range of life-forms containing attributes with commercial applications’ (Posey et al., 1995, p. 893; cf. OkothOwiro, 1996). The search for naturally occurring compounds in biological resources is known as bioprospecting or genetic prospecting. Perhaps the most widely recognized case that embodies the new attitude to exploiting genetic resources is from Costa Rica (see Walden, 1995; Posey, 1996a). The government of Costa Rica established an enterprise named INBio (Instituto Nacional de Biodiversidad) and authorized it to commercialize some of the biological and genetic resources of the country. Takacs (1996, p. 292) delineates its principles of biodiversity conservation: ‘Save it, know it, use it. The more it is used, the more it will be saved, making the mantra cyclical.’ Though only a minor part of its funding is received from private enterprises, its contract with the US pharmaceutical corporation, Merck, was widely noted and discussed (see http://www.inbio.ac.cr/en/inbio/Faqs.html – read 31 August 1999). According to the contract the corporation may catalogue all species in Costa Rica and collect samples of them on national lands, with the assistance of a group of local parataxonomists.

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Of course, the contract has not escaped criticism: one critic points out that the contract was made regardless of the fact that eight indigenous peoples inhabited the lands under inventory and these peoples were not beneficiaries in the original agreement in 1991 (Posey, 1996a; see also Guha, 1997). (To develop marketable products and commodities from these raw materials will naturally require a lot of work, creativity and marketing skills should it turn out that a large proportion of biodiversity is of economic value, although I shall not deal with these problems here.) The example of interpreting the CBD seems to suggest that utilization is to occur solely or mainly through governmental agencies, or on governmental terms rather than those of a private or communal kind. Actually, this example illustrates the in-built controversy lurking in the CBD between state sovereignty and the rights of traditional communities (Posey, 1996b), and the content of the CBD is dependent on national legislation. But it is hardly plausible to suppose that the only successful way to conserve biological and genetic resources is to nationalize them; other modes of property right regimes are of equal importance. So with regard to the precise nature of institutional mechanisms, the CBD is exposed to rival applications and interpretations. One group of people have defended privatization of the resources as a blueprint. Their point of departure is to identify the driving force behind the human activity that generates the loss of biodiversity. It is thought that the problem lies in the lack of incentives for sustainable use of the resources in their natural habitats where diversity prospers. Property arrangements form the institutional setting where humans operate as they try to sustain themselves. The image behind the privatization model is that open accessibility of resources leads to depletive use, to ‘the tragedy of the commons’, as Hardin (1968) has called it in his famous article. (For mainstream economists, the terms ‘the commons’ and ‘communal property’ refer to freely accessible resources, not to those that are owned by a community (see Cheung, 1987), and thus they tend to neglect the difference between regulated and unregulated common property.) Hardin’s remedy to prevent the tragedy is, at least in some cases, the creation of a rule-constrained institution over the use of the resources; in the case of land, property rights should be vested in individuals. The owner would then be in a position to exclude others from using what belongs to him, and he would be motivated to invest in its use on a sustainable basis (cf. Demsetz, 1967). In the same way Vogel (1994) has suggested that the basis of successful conservation policy is that ‘those who benefit, pay the costs associated

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with the benefits’. So the arrangement directs the owner to sustainability and to the protection of genetic material, as he or she is solely accountable for the costs and benefits of their deeds. The feedback mechanism compels rational actors to such utilization of resources that they try to avoid major harms and costs. The property institution functions so as to lead to the non-depletive and efficient use of resources. This rationale for privatization is thought to be applicable to all kinds of natural resources: to forests, to marine resources and to genetic resources. In the remainder of the study I shall argue, by analysing the use of the concept of privatization, that it is not only individual owners that are capable of sustainable resource management.

The idea of privatization Two meanings of privatization A major term in economic and political discourse today is ‘privatization’. But those who endorse the policy of privatization use the term rather multifariously. To clarify the debate, I distinguish between two uses of the notion of privatization, inclusive and exclusive. The inclusive use of the term ‘privatization’ is broad. It contains the enforcement of exclusive claims on open-access resources independently of whether these claims are presented by individuals or groups of individuals, excluding the state. Some economists have used ‘privatization’ in this sense. Accordingly, they incorporate communal property into the category of private property. Thus in this case the notion of ‘privatization’ covers all situations where some non-governmental property right regime has been established. Anderson and Leal (1991, p. 3) say that: At the heart of free market environmentalism is a system of wellspecified property rights to natural resources. Whether these rights are held by individuals, corporations, non-profit environmental groups, or communal groups, a discipline is imposed on resource users because the wealth of the owner of the property right is at stake if bad decisions are made. (Italics added) Though the two authors acknowledge communal ownership here and though they do not use the notion ‘private’, their theory is otherwise constructed upon plain individualistic axioms. They are clearly against extensive state ownership and the free accessibility of resources.

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Similarly, Vogel explicitly defends the creation of property rights in genetic resources in terms of privatization and he includes property of indigenous and traditional communities in the category of private property. It is specifically governmental ownership of land and genetic resources which is not in accordance with his policy model (Vogel, 1994). In fact, Anderson and Leal, and Vogel seem to conform to the usage created by Demsetz (1967). In his acclaimed article Demsetz explains the evolution of private property rights in land by using an example of Amerindian hunting territories in the James Bay area. These territories were owned and managed by families. Demsetz’s example plays an important role in his analysis in which he attempts to show that private ownership functions so as to provide ‘incentives to achieve a greater internalization of externalities’ (p. 348). If the territories were in communal ownership, overhunting of game would follow: ‘because of the lack of control over hunting by others, it is in no person’s interest to invest in increasing or maintaining the stock of game’ (pp. 353–4). However, it has been doubted whether the case Demsetz uses to illustrate non-governmental property is actually an instance of private property, because the territories were not owned by individuals but by families. For example, Berkes (1992, p. 79) has said that: Hunting territories are clearly not private property in the EuroAmerican sense. They are communal property in which hunting bosses exercise leadership … by mutual consent, mostly tacit consent, of the community of hunters. But if it is so that Demsetz’s example is, after all, a kind of communal ownership, then he has established the case against open accessibility and for communal ownership, not solely for private ownership. As I see it, the defenders of privatization hold to a view that communal ownership is an instance of private ownership and the recognition of communal property rights can be identified with that of private property rights. Therefore their concept of privatization is inclusive as it contains a large variety of property right regimes. The inclusive use of ‘private property rights’ or ‘privatization’ does not require that (regulated) commons should be invariably transferred into individual ownership – in other words it can be interpreted as not implying a creation of a particular type of property right regime regarding openaccess resources. This means that it coincides with the thesis that regulated communal ownership can be sustainable and endure over a long

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period of time under right circumstances – exactly what the defenders of regulated commons have argued (see Ostrom, 1990; Ostrom and Schlager, 1996; Baland and Platteau, 1996). I find it odd that those who have provided us with a sophisticated theory of privatization would also accept communal ownership and see traditional and indigenous communities as suitable owners in terms of sustainable use. At first sight, this is the particular idea of resource governance which is fiercely criticized by Hardin and Demsetz. Assuming that Hardin uses the term ‘commons’ also to refer to any case of jointly owned resources (and not only to those of open access), he would require their privatization. Demsetz is more explicit on this matter. He recognizes several forms of ownership and stresses the faults of communal ownership, such as the occurrence of great externalities and over-exploitation. Therefore, we should identify another way of using ‘privatization’, namely the exclusive use of it. This is what I think that Demsetz and Hardin might actually try to do: resources should be in individual control. Anderson and Leal may also defend this notion which is implied by the fact that their view is so strongly individualistically slanted. Instead it seems that Vogel has distanced his views from Hardinian rationale as he accepts communities as owners, and what he defends is not privatization in the same sense. In the second sense of the term, a policy of privatization would advocate that all relevant and possible resources that are not owned privately should be transferred into private ownership, that is into individual ownership. If so, it follows that there are noticeable and politically significant differences between private and communal ownership. But it is an open question whether these differences are so critical that either form of ownership is unsustainable or whether the similarities are so dominating that they both are to some extent sustainable. Provided that my analysis holds, there is an important implication according to which different categories of ownership are truly different. In our case this means that private ownership is to be regarded as an individualistic category of ownership to which communal ownership is not reducible. What works? The necessity of privatization (in the exclusive sense) is not accepted by all those who emphasize the urgency of the creation and enforcement of property right regimes. They think that the viability of options depends on the particular features of each case. Hanna et al. defend

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institutional diversity or combinations of various forms of ownership by claiming that no single type of property rights regime can be prescribed as a remedy for problems of resource degradation and overuse. Both effective control and ineffective control can exist under any kind of regime. (1995, p. 19; cf. Berkes et al., 1989; Swanson, 1992) The authors argue for developing institutions to halt biodiversity depletion without taking a categorical stance on the issue of the subject of ownership. Both individuals and collective entities can be vested with intellectual property rights, depending on what works and what are the objectives. Moreover, there is empirical evidence that selfregulating communities managing resources on a communal basis do it with success (see Berkes et al., 1989). It is not purely accidental that there are a number of similarities between those who emphasize private ownership and those who emphasize communal ownership. Of particular importance is the idea of proximity to the resource system – often this closeness is expressed in terms of ‘the small farmer’ or local communities – and a negative stand against multinational corporations and states. Anderson and Leal (1991, p. 4) state that land ‘cannot be “managed” from afar’; Vogel (1994, p. 5) emphasizes that successful ecological management requires ‘relatively small land tracts’ (cf. Bromley, 1991). They seem to subscribe to Aristotle’s tenet according to which ‘the greater the number of owners, the less respect for common property’ (Politics, 1261b). In Grunebaum’s (1987) view Aristotle offers two main reasons for this: motivation and knowledge. They are linked in the following way: nonstate ownership makes it possible that there is a person (or a group of persons) who is profoundly interested in managing land and he is able to do it on the basis of his knowledge of the local circumstances, such as the fertility of the land, drainage and the weather conditions. This knowledge is gained from the intimate relationship between the owner and the land; if the land were centrally managed from afar, it would be very expensive to acquire this kind of information for the central administration, and thus compiled information is less reliable. The closeness of ownership also reinforces the effect of the feedback mechanism: whatever the owner does to the resources will turn out to be directly either advantageous or disadvantageous to him- or herself. It is presumable that in traditional communities feedback mechanisms also

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exist and this compels these communities to develop self-regulatory ways of exploiting natural resources (Ecologist, 1993; Mies and Shiva, 1993; Gadgil et al., 1993; cf. Haila, 1999, p. 178).

Modifying the intellectual property rights regime The significance of communities Indigenous peoples base their environmental management and use of resources on traditional community knowledge, or indigenous knowledge. Indigenous knowledge of ecology has been defined as ‘a cumulative body of knowledge and beliefs handed down through generations by cultural transmission about the relationship of living beings (including humans) with one another and with their environment’ (Gadgil et al., 1993, p. 151). This knowledge is an object of external interest by and large for similar reasons as biodiversity is itself. It is valuable for pharmaceutical corporations because of an assumption that the medicinal qualities of wild biota may have been discovered by indigenous groups. Although ethnomedical plants are not marketable as such in western societies, knowledge on them is expected to decrease investment in research and development of new drugs (Walden, 1995; Sheldon and Balick, 1995). Traditional plant breeding has also produced a great variety of cultivars, which are of value in developing new varieties. When the indigenous knowledge and genetic information in wild organisms and land races draw commercial attention, controversy over its legal status and the legitimate owner arises. Accepting communal ownership in general and recognizing the endangered state of many indigenous communities, an argument has been made for an extension of intellectual property rights to traditional and indigenous communities, so that they would be morally entitled to intellectual property. This argument implies that they could become owners of their knowledge systems and/or the genetic resources that reside in their territories. For example, a law was enacted in Brazil in 1994 which recognizes the possibility of indigenous tribes being innovators in a relevant sense as regards the patent law (see Stenson and Gray, 1999, p. 178; Posey, 1996a). In this section, I elaborate some difficulties of extending the IPR regime to indigenous and traditional communities and their knowledge systems. My examination is limited to a few points, and I shall not pay a great deal of attention to moral criticism of the commodification of biodiversity or to the numerous practical difficulties the traditional communities face in applying for patent (see Posey, 1996a;

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Greaves, 1994). It is also outside the scope of this chapter whether or not a comprehensive solution can be found to determine the market value of biodiversity, though I think this gives, even at its best, only a partial answer (cf. Simpson et al., 1998; Gowdy, 1997; Oksanen, 1996). Intellectual property and traditional communities The ideology of privatization has evolved in conditions of deep-seated individualism and its concepts of rights and duties, and these ideas tend to ignore the role of communities. Thus, the indigenous cultural systems and the maintenance of the identity of indigenous peoples should also be an object of environmentalist concern, at least to the extent that these peoples are concerned themselves. But does this lead to a paternalistic means which are entirely incompatible with liberal principles? Whatever our answer is to this question, the locus of today’s conservation is much on local people, and there are many spokespersons for traditional communities: it is everyday dealings with the surrounding physical world from which sustainable development proceeds. The policy of decentralization of power is one attempt to transfer control over resources from central government to the level where the action takes place and where the benefits and costs of management methods are faced immediately. Even if we emphasize the importance of communal self-determination, it is not clear whether this could or should occur through a recognition of IPRs for these communities or a recognition of their role in some other legal terms. Let us distinguish between two questions. The first question is about the subjects of property relation: what kind of actors can produce patentable information? In particular, can traditional communities be owners of biodiversity, that is can they have patents on – or a patentlike protection for – genetic resources and their knowledge of beneficial qualities of wild organisms and agricultural germplasm? The consideration of the subjects of property relation is closely linked to, but separate from, the second question: what are the objects of property relation? The main philosophical dispute concerning the object of patenting is over ‘discovery’ versus ‘invention’; normally only inventions are patentable. Should the law be changed? Were the wild genetic resources property objects, as has been proposed, under what kind of control should they be and what kind of organisms should this change in the law concern? While there are other possible ways to approach the issue, the following four alternatives appear to me as the most significant. First, genetic resources should not be patentable, but something that could be called intellectual open-access resources in the worldwide

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sense. As mentioned above, there is doubt over this option regarding its inability to halt the decline of diversity and to encourage investing in biodiversity (in the wild); it continues the status quo and reinforces the current trends. The second option proposes that biochemical information in wild organisms is an intellectual property object over which the possessor has certain claims. Then it is crucial to decide who actually owns it and who should ideally own the land and the plants residing in it. For example, Vogel speaks of privatizing genetic resources, and by that he means that we should create legal title over genetic information as it occurs in nature (Vogel, 1994, p. 4). Again, this position has to answer the criticism from those who emphasize that the possession of information, or genes, is neither a sufficient nor a necessary criterion for owning it as intellectual property. Third, wild genetic resources should remain as open-access resources but those modifications of them that meet the standards of patentability can be patentable. The view has been fiercely criticized by many Third World activists on the basis of its ecological and social consequences. On the one hand, there is a doubt that overwhelming uniformity in the intellectual property rights regime might undermine efforts to preserve biodiversity (Khalil, 1995). On the other hand, it has been professed that this policy leads to unfair applications in agriculture where multinational corporations may attempt to get patents for slightly modified genetic material or refinement processes (see Patel, 1995). Paraphrasing Proudhon, Shiva (1997, p. 173) says that ‘patents on seeds are thus a twenty-first century form of piracy’. As I understand her, Shiva deems plant breeding essentially as a collective effort in which no one should be privileged with patents. In this respect the extension of an IPR regime does not necessarily serve to protect and promote the collective wisdom of traditional communities, but rather it tends to protect private interests or corporate property. Nevertheless, we have a chance to revise this position – the fourth alternative – and accept communal authorship, that is the possibility that those modifications are also patentable which are made by traditional communities. This alternative is problematic. If traditional communities could have patents on their knowledge of beneficial qualities in wild organisms, it has been doubted whether it could happen in a way that is compatible with the standard view of obtaining a patent. It has been claimed that it does not meet the standard requirement of patentability because ‘with traditional knowledge … there is no single act of creation’: traditional knowledge is somehow produced collectively

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(Stenson and Gray, 1997, p. 190). In other words, it is conceptually fallacious to maintain indigenous knowledge systems as exclusive intellectual property. One way to avoid the problem is to endorse a broader definition of knowledge and creativity (Shiva, 1997), to develop a theory of collective artefacts and thus try to enlarge the IPR regime. Another reply is to regard it as a support of communal ownership: it is the whole community that has contributed to the production of information. There are other people as well looking for ‘new legal instruments’ (Greaves, 1994), such as Posey’s (1996b) formulation of ‘traditional resources rights’. The second and fourth options face the same logical impediment: the extension of an IPR regime has to be adjusted to the actual system of intellectual property protection. And from this follows many other questions not touched upon here. What kind of implications would follow from this change to other instances of patents? Though the change might alleviate biodiversity loss, could it still incite creativity and protect the right to be compensated when others are using information resulting from individual innovativeness? In general, the usefulness of this change should be studied within a larger context. But it cannot be taken as given that the standard model of ownership of genes with private property rights is the only model that works and contributes to the maintenance of biodiversity.

Concluding remarks In this paper, I have discussed the idea of privatization in the context of genetic resources. Some authors use the idea of reinforcing property right regimes and even the term ‘privatization’ in a wide sense to cover all cases where some property right regime is created and recognized; for others the notion of privatization is more confined, denoting individual ownership. If ‘private’ includes communal property as an instance of private property, then the notion of privatization covers also the transfer of resources to communities. But if ‘private’ means ‘individual-based’, then communal property is not private property. Therefore, responses to the idea of privatization tend to vary according to the idea of privatization being referred to. I think that the notion of privatization should be used strictly and in its narrower sense, to emphasize the non-reducible nature of communal ownership and its differences from private ownership. In other words, the characteristic of being well defined does not imply the privatization of the resources in the strict sense of the word. Communities are in many cases de facto

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or de jure possessors of natural resources. The inclusive way of using the notion of privatization is doubtful, as it tends to conceal fundamental differences between property types and related decision-making procedures by converting them into mainstream neoclassical economic discourse. Such a treatment of non-private property regimes and their transformation is monistic: only private ownership is regarded as the institutional solution to biodiversity depletion. It is my view that privatization leads to such a conceptualization of the problem and supports a policy that tends to overlook the unique nature of local systems of environmental management. Thus we should aim at constructing alternative approaches. In sum, my claim is that, although it is conceptually disputable whether intellectual property rights can be granted to traditional and indigenous peoples, it is not so when considered in the light of resource sustainability. So, a similar rationale to the one that Hardin uses in his defence of privatization can by and large be applied to community-based resource management.

Note 1. Earlier versions of this material were presented to Environmental Justice – Global Ethics for the 21st Century Conference, October 1997, University of Melbourne, Australia, and to the ECPR Joint Sessions Workshop on the Shape of Liberal Democratic Sustainable Societies, March 1998, University of Warwick, UK. I thank the members of these audiences, particularly Robin Attfield and Brian Barry. I am also grateful to Janne Hukkinen, Anja Nygren and Juhani Pietarinen. The study is part of the Finnish Biodiversity Research Programme FIBRE (1997–2002) (project no. 39456).

9 Sustainability, Global Warming, Population Policies and Liberal Democracy Robin Attfield

Introduction1 Although I have seldom written specifically on political theory, writings of mine about sustainability and about population may seem to commit me to various implications in this field, implications concerning the shape of any democratic society for which sustainability is a high priority, and which seeks to reflect this priority in its practice with a fair degree of consistency (cf. Attfield, 1994, 1996). At the same time my writings about population and support for population policies (Attfield, 1988, 1995) have apparently been seen in some quarters as committing me to far-reaching implications barely compatible with any kind of liberal or democratic society.2 In what follows, I will attempt to trace the implications of my understanding of sustainability for liberal democracies, for it is important to elicit the extent and limits of such implications. While I will not attempt to define ‘liberal democracy’, let alone endorse it as beyond criticism, attention will be given to some of the widely supposed implications of that concept, and of liberalism in general, at the appropriate stage.

Sustainable societies I begin with the nature of a sustainable society and its processes. Sustainable processes are ones which are capable of being maintained indefinitely and which undermine neither themselves, nor the segments of nature on which they depend, nor other sustainable societies, nor the segments of nature on which those societies depend, nor a potentially sustainable world system. This may seem a demanding definition, but it is not just the definition of a theoretician, for sheer 149

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practicality is likely to require people everywhere to take all its components seriously before too long. Thus processes which undermine themselves will need to be replaced by processes which do not do so, and the same applies to processes which undermine the segment of nature on which their society depends, whether land or rivers or forests or fishstocks or the local climate. Similarly, an internally sustainable society which exports unsustainability to other societies will eventually be obliged to replace the relevant processes with different, more sustainable ones, as it will become unacceptable for any one society to undermine or prevent sustainability elsewhere. There are also global implications of this, as processes anywhere which singly or jointly prevent or are inconsistent with any society becoming or remaining sustainable will also eventually be regarded as having no place in even a moderately acceptable and a moderately sustainable world, and the society or societies concerned will be expected by international opinion to change them. This is already becoming apparent with regard to the manufacture and use of CFCs, and with regard to carbon emissions. Admittedly these specifications of sustainable processes have a measure of circularity about them, as sustainability in one society is explained in terms of not preventing or undermining sustainability in another, while sustainability there is simultaneously explained in terms of not undermining or preventing sustainability elsewhere, including in the initial society. My belief is that this problem could be surmounted at the level of theory by specifications concerning ideal cases in possible worlds, such as a world with only one society, in which no external impacts would occur, specifications which can then be made to approximate gradually to the actual world by the addition of further societies which would be sustainable if they had existed alone, and the addition of which makes no society unsustainable, themselves included. Any society, however internally sustainable, the introduction of which makes unsustainable another society which would otherwise have been sustainable, fails the test of overall sustainability. But whether or not I am right, the concepts seem intuitively clear in any case, and also serve to draw attention to the important truth that sustainability is probably not to be regarded as a feature of any single society unless that society and its processes could become part of a globally sustainable system.

Sustainability and carbon emissions Before any of this is applied to issues of population, I want to turn first to another area where sustainability could affect liberal freedoms, that

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of carbon emissions, and relatedly to energy consumption and the use of the private car. If the 1997 Kyoto treaty is put into effect, most developed countries will soon have targets and related timetables for carbon emissions, and may have to introduce systems of regulation and enforcement of carbon emissions in their territory. One area of policy-change in some developed countries could concern the amount of energy generated, since some countries seem already to be exceeding their fair share of emissions, as a proportion of any tolerable global total; initially this is more likely to involve schemes for energy-saving than prohibitions on kinds of use. But, since a substantial and increasing component of carbon emissions is due neither to industry nor to power stations but to the private automobile, the use of cars with petrol or diesel engines for the short journeys which generate most congestion and pollution may before long have to be prohibited, and public transport or electric cars used instead. This kind of regulation of free movement might seem incompatible with characteristic freedoms of a liberal society. But the curtailment of the freedom to move about in cities in a petrol-powered car could serve to enhance freedom overall, if its overall consequences include a reduction of pollution and consequent illness, a reduction of congestion with its attendant lowering of quality of life, and an increase of the freedom of the people of small islands and of coastal regions to live where they have lived for centuries, and to live immune from inundation. As such, there is a good prospect that it could meet with public approval, possibly across most of the political spectrum, except on the part of the kind of libertarians who believe that it should remain legal to manufacture CFCs. Such curtailment of freedom to enhance freedom is also compatible with liberalism, unless liberalism is so defined as to preclude curtailments of freedom, whatever their impact on freedom. Where freedom remains a central value, policies that would curtail particular harmful freedoms in order to enhance freedom cannot be accused of illiberalism. Now a sustainable and equitable world system would ideally involve sharing the tolerable total of carbon emissions equally among all living humans or the states of which they are citizens on a per capita basis. This system was originally proposed by Michael Grubb (1989, 1990), and was recently endorsed on a post-Kyoto public platform by John Selwyn Gummer.3 In this system, each country could then either use its quota for the year, or else sell it on an annual basis to countries such as the USA with greater than average current rates of consumption, just as is actually likely to happen with some countries’ Kyoto quotas.

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Even if all the quotas were fully used by one nation or another, total emissions would remain tolerable. The resulting income from trading in the per capita system could contribute to the development of the Third World or to debt-alleviation, and thus to the prerequisites of sustainability in Third World countries. Thus each country’s participation in this system would be likely to involve processes consistent with a globally sustainable system. However, regulation of this kind – national regulation of the energyconsumption of large users, national regulation of the use by individual motorists of the private petrol-powered or diesel-powered car, or, within an international regimen, regulation of national carbon emissions (itself likely to be passed down to citizens and other residents in the form of further national regulation) – could in each case be held to import an idea of the good, despite the widespread supposition that an implication of liberalism is that liberal societies are neutral between ideas of the good, do not favour any one such idea, and tolerate all but for the intolerant ones. I doubt, however, that liberal democratic societies essentially are, or even can be in practice, as neutral as that, partly because freedoms are integral to concepts of the good and conflict with one another. Concepts of the good are thus inevitably adduced when decisions are taken about which freedoms (and hence which presumptive rights) are to be sacrificed or limited for the sake of others. Besides, liberal democracies often do favour particular ideas of the good: the favouring of monogamous marriage within the British tax system is an example. So neutrality cannot be of the essence of liberal democracies. I shall now suggest that neutrality is something which they cannot in any case uphold over time or sustain. Thus it is, I suggest, a defensible claim that strictly neutral societies are actually unsustainable, as they would have to tolerate (and indefinitely at that) unsustainable practices, e.g. of energy consumption, liable to undermine either local sustainability, or local nature, or sustainability or nature elsewhere, or sustainability globally. One way of responding to this claim would be to grant it but claim that unsustainable processes and practices must be recognized as intolerable, and thus the kind of practices which liberal democracies have always had to curtail; but this approach would seem to push to apparently illiberal extremes the concept of the intolerable. Another way of responding would be to grant that sustainability, like national survival, is in any case an allowable idea of the good, at least in the form of a prerequisite for a liberal democracy, and at least in some of its forms. As sustainable liberal democracies without an idea of the good would then be

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impossible, there would be no harm in demanding of citizens and other residents some minimal requirements concerning how to live life. But what if a democratic majority is elected to reverse such arguably indispensable policies? I am not sure what to say, but here is what might be said. Liberal democracy requires that the supporters of the anti-sustainability platform must be allowed to stand for election, and to assume power if elected. But having assumed power, they would be subject both to the national constitution and to international treaties like the Kyoto treaty, and would have to choose between the international obloquy implicit in reneging on treaty obligations, and conforming to these obligations despite their electoral mandate. Admittedly such international obligations do not cover the case of whatever is required for purely local sustainability, insofar as the undermining of this would be tolerable to other states, and so, unless provision for local sustainability is somehow written into the constitution, deviations from sustainable policies must be allowable in a liberal democracy. But the scope for such deviations is likely to be narrow, granted the increasing range of areas where international agreements are likely to be needed for the sake of global sustainability. Changes of policy in the light of international expectations manifestly happen already. For example, the new government of Korea (elected late in 1997) stood on a socialist platform, but, in face of the need for international assistance because of a collapsing economy, suddenly changed its stance to one supportive of free markets. This was in my view regrettable, but it is also relevant that it has not been alleged, let alone agreed on all sides, that Korea is not a democracy simply because the government is unable to implement the policies which it was elected to enact. All kinds of constraints on the policies of governments have to be observed if the world is to avoid catastrophes and move gradually to a sustainable system. Unlike what has happened to Korea, we should, I suggest, welcome international expectations when they genuinely promote global sustainability. Andrew Vincent, however, suggests that tensions between environmental sensitivity and liberalism go deeper. Liberalism typically accords metaphysical centrality to human agency, and typically prioritizes the value of human agency above all other considerations. In its stronger versions, it rejects any curtailment of the powers (or supposed rights) of the individual agent (and here the use of cars is one of the examples given), and acknowledges no value not dependent on human agency or choice. But Vincent also recognizes more accommodating strands of liberalism, willing to curtail individual liberties for the sake of

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communal values; while he has reservations about their adequacy, as judged from an environmentalist perspective, and about the prospects of liberal democracies taking them with sufficient seriousness, what is important for present purposes is his recognition of the compatibility of liberalism with at least some environmental values (Vincent, 1998, p. 454). The comment is in place here that the Millian principle that coercion is justified to prevent harm to others appears to justify a considerable amount of environmental regulation, given the cumulative and imperceptible nature of many kinds of environmental harm. Certainly the environmental values which Vincent explicitly regards as compatible with liberalism are anthropocentric values, albeit based on the weaker varieties of anthropocentrism, but he does not entirely rule out the compatibility with liberalism of forms of environmental ethic intermediate between anthropocentrism and holistic ecocentrism, such as positions which recognize the moral standing of sentient beings, and not just human beings, and which are thus concerned with the habitats of sentient creatures independently of human interests (Vincent, 1998, p. 447). While this is not the place to assess the consistency of non-anthropocentric positions in general with liberalism, since sustainability is in any case justifiable on an anthropocentric basis and does not strictly require a non-anthropocentric ethic, mention should be made here of the apparent compatibility with liberalism of biocentric positions, positions which Vincent completely passes over when classifying environmental perspectives (Vincent, 1998, pp. 446–7). These positions avoid the problems arising from ascriptions of moral standing to inanimate objects such as rocks and rivers, and could institutionally be reconciled with the practices of liberal democracy through the inclusion in the membership of legislatures of proxies specially appointed to represent the interests of voiceless living creatures. Liberal democracies thus seem compatible with a wide range of kinds of environmental ethic and of their institutional recognition, despite Vincent’s forebodings, and despite the deep tensions which undoubtedly exist between the more ecocentric kinds of environmental ethic and the stronger forms of anthropocentrism implicit in much liberal theory.

Sustainability and population issues To turn now to population issues, what I have maintained elsewhere is that most states should have population policies, for the sake of human welfare, societal sustainability and the preservation of non-human

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species. This obviously includes liberal democracies, and may at the same time sound illiberal. However, I have neither said nor implied that states should have coercive population policies, with penalties for non-compliance, or that they could or should make abortions mandatory for couples or mothers who have already used up their quota of children. What I am committed to by way of population policies is policies of education and persuasion, and such policies need not be illiberal, as long as citizens are allowed and empowered to decide for themselves. To spell this out, each state should have targets for the human population of its territory (rather as many states have targets for the upper limits of illiteracy or of truancy or of road deaths). This would involve policies of education, particularly women’s education, to enable people to plan the size of their families. It would also involve explaining the importance of curtailing population growth, and at the same time the importance of people freely deciding the size and the spacing of their families. It would also include planning policies aimed at supplying facilities for populations up to the size of the target. All this, of course, complies with the Program of Action adopted at the Cairo Conference of 1994 (Program of Action, 1995, in particular pp. 190–1). Why should each state have a population target? The context of this stance is a current global human population of 6 billion, certain to rise further in the next few decades, and the difficulty of making adequate provision for the needs of even the existing population. While the planet could support additional people, it is only likely to do so at the cost of the use of yet more marginal land, the overfishing of yet more seas, the loss of further forests and the emission of even greater quantities of pollution. Species are already being extinguished at an alarming rate, and a higher population is likely to exacerbate this process. The best hope for limiting the adverse effects of all these problems depends on the population ceasing to grow and stabilizing at some sustainable level (as the Brundtland Report4 advocates). This level might be 9 or 10 billion, for there is little serious hope of the global population stabilizing at anywhere near the current level, granted demographic factors such as current fertility rates and the low average age of the current population. While there has been a United Nations prediction that population will peak at 7.7 billion,5 humanity cannot rely on the accuracy of any particular prediction such as this one, when the outcome largely depends on policies, and thus on decisions yet to be made and cannot safely be regarded as determined already. There is, however, much to be said for population peaking or

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stabilizing at 8 billion, if this can be attained, since this is a level of population for which there is realistic hope of sufficient calories being made recurrently available for a quality of life better than mere survival (Attfield, 1999, chapter 7). We cannot rely on human inventiveness to supply sufficient nourishment on a recurrent basis for a larger global human population than this, despite Ted Benton’s suggestion to the contrary (Benton, 1994, pp. 42–3). While human inventiveness suffices to show that the notion of carrying capacity does not apply to particular territories, it cannot be assumed to invalidate limits at the global level in terms of the population that can sustainably be supported. Nor is there scope either for complacency about the abundance of nature or for the kind of optimism which assumes that technology will solve our problems throughout the indefinite future. That could be a recipe for a population in the twenty-second century of 20 billion, followed by the kind of global population collapse predicted long ago by Thomas Robert Malthus. The position defended here, however, is by no means Malthusian, not only because planning is recognized as being likely to contribute significantly to the outcome, but also because there is no suggestion that groups afflicted by poverty and undergoing rapid population growth (whether at home or abroad) should be abandoned or left to themselves. What this position implies is, most immediately, that countries with increasing populations (mostly Third World countries) ought to adopt population targets consistent with a sustainable total, but it should at once be added that such targets and policies can only be expected to work as part of development policies, as it is unreasonable to encourage individuals to limit the size of their families in the absence of reliable provision for child health and for security in old age, and that development policies would in many cases be ineffective without Northern assistance and transfers of technology (an issue to be returned to). Nevertheless, countries with increasing populations have strong grounds of self-interest for the adoption of population targets, for their own prospects of development require such targets. Further, without the participation of these countries there is little or no prospect of the global population problem being tackled, for even if the populations of the North were somehow to be extinguished overnight, a global population problem would be facing humanity again within a few decades. However, since the populations of Northern countries with their high levels of consumption impose a far greater per capita strain on the Earth’s resources and sinks than those of Southern countries, Northern

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countries have to be willing to play their part if they are to expect Southern countries to play theirs. Besides limiting their carbon emissions and other kinds of pollution, they have to be willing to adopt population targets in their turn, as otherwise they cannot expect Southern countries to do so. Each extra child in the North involves a much greater average burden on the Earth’s farms, fisheries, minerals and sinks than each extra child in the South; and this being so, the North has to agree to curtail the number of such extra children if the South is to be expected to do likewise. For countries of the North with falling populations this might seem unnecessary, but such countries can clearly afford to take part in agreements in which they too accept population targets. Indeed, their high per capita ecological impact supplies a strong reason for their adoption of population targets, granted the severity of ecological strains associated with the current level of the global population, and the importance of countries that currently exercise an above-average ecological impact being seen to play their part in curtailing this impact. Thus the participation both of Northern and of Southern countries in population policies is indispensable. Does having a population target imply an infringement of liberal democratic ideals? This largely depends on what is done to attain or deliver such a target. Policies of persuasion and education may be subject to the charge of involving an idea of the good, but as we have seen this cannot reasonably be regarded as a departure from the ideals of liberal democracy. Further, as long as they are not policies of coercion, they cannot be represented as a curtailment of freedom. Since the related policies would indirectly strengthen freedom elsewhere, they should not be considered illiberal, let alone undemocratic. Besides, the prospect of global overpopulation would involve such great harm for most of the people involved, as well as for most surviving other species, that action to forestall it would seem to be upheld by the Millian harm principle, except on interpretations that exclude obligations with regard to future generations. Possibly there is even some justification in special cases for policies which go beyond persuasion, even though coercive policies would almost certainly infringe the limits of liberal democratic principles, and therewith some of the rights claims asserted in the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights (United Nations, 1948). In particular, it is possible that China cannot cope with the problems of feeding and otherwise providing for its growing population without policies involving coercion, which might possibly be justified for the sake of the overriding moral importance of the survival of humanity in China.

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Yet there is evidence that the overall fertility rate in China was reducing in the 1970s, from 5.8 children per woman of child-bearing age in 1970 to 2.7 in 1978 (Banister, 1984, table 5, p. 254), well before the coercive element was officially introduced; thus the current coercive policies may not be indispensable, and, if so, their curtailment of the freedoms and rights of parents, and in particular of women, may turn out to be unjustified after all. But what may apply to China because of its pressing and distinctive problems need not apply elsewhere, and almost certainly does not apply to liberal democracies. Liberal democracies, however, have a further role to play. As previously mentioned, population policies in Third World contexts must be allied to development policies, on pain of being both unreasonable and ineffective. But such policies have to be paid for, and in some cases are only going to work if Northern liberal democracies transfer appropriate technology and supply suitable overseas aid to make them work. Since the charge is sometimes made that such aid is counterproductive and thus harmful, the reply to this neo-Malthusian case from Jesper Ryberg (1997) becomes important here; for, as he shows, such aid is capable of being sustainable, of avoiding being counterproductive, and of sustaining a higher population (within justifiable upper limits) than would be able to survive without it. This being so, there is a strong case both for supplying this aid (to prevent famine and other Malthusian catastrophes), and for the recipient countries adopting population targets which are sustainable through a combination of local efforts and resources and overseas aid. Overseas development aid is less likely in itself to generate charges of illiberalism than population policies, but since objections are possible if such aid is supported in the donor country through taxation, and since the sustainability of the global population probably depends on it being offered, it is important to draw attention to it as a key requirement of overall global sustainability.

Sustainability and liberal democracies If Northern liberal societies reject the requirements of global sustainability, they will probably be able to sustain themselves for some decades on this unsustainable basis, but not indefinitely, and meanwhile both ecological problems and problems attendant on excessive population growth are likely to intensify elsewhere. But they could not in any case be said to be themselves sustainable, either internally or externally, on this basis. Sustainability is going to involve a willingness to participate in global agreements concerning a wide range of subjects,

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including toxic dumping, funding forest preservation, funding access to clean water, fair trading and many more. But minimally it includes, as has been seen, participation in global systems to curtail carbon emissions and also to stabilize the global population. Fortunately, as has also been seen, there is no need for this participation to involve an abandonment of liberalism or most of its characteristic values, whatever we may think of liberal values on other grounds, and even if other grounds support discarding these values from time to time for the sake of other values such as community, well-being or equality. Where value is attached to individual agency remaining untrammelled, liberalism probably is at odds with sustainability, but where it focuses on the freedom of all affected human beings or of all affected parties, or on the principle that freedom may be curtailed to prevent harm to others, there is no irreconcilable conflict, and some possibility of liberal societies eventually becoming committed to sustainability. My belief is that the same could readily be argued, given sufficient time and space, for democratic values, along lines similar to those presented above. Democratic legislatures are empowered to enact regulatory policies in the cause of sustainability, policies that could include carbon emissions policies and population policies. They would also be empowered to entrench such policies in national constitutions, possibly following an affirmative vote in a referendum, thus making it harder for their subsequent repeal, even by a party with an antisustainability mandate. All this could be done, I suggest, with democratic values intact. Democratic values might be strained if the suggestions made above were to be put into effect for a small number of proxies to be appointed to represent voiceless interests, particularly if future people were included in these interests as well as non-human creatures, and if this provision for voiceless interests were also to be embedded in constitutions. Strain would be felt, that is, if democratic values are taken to imply that legislators must represent current voters only. But since this plausibly leaves numerous relevant interests unrepresented, democratic values might in time come to be seen as enhanced by provision for the representation of these voiceless interests. The proxies themselves would be likely to vote for sustainability measures, and to make the repeal of such measures less likely. But even in the absence of such proxies, there is a serious prospect of liberal democracies committed to sustainability policies becoming the norm, and of such a system proving self-reinforcing as more and more citizens of liberal democracies come to recognize the importance of

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sustainability locally, nationally and globally. Since (as I have suggested) no contradiction is implicit in the concept of sustainable liberal democracies, and since sustainability turns out to be so pervasively important for the societies of the future, the devising and introduction of sustainable liberal-democratic societies is likely to be an important task for the coming millennium.

Notes 1. I am grateful to Wouter Achterberg, John Barry and Godwin Sogolo, and to Johan Hattingh and his magistral students at the University of Stellenbosch, for their reflective comments and criticisms relating to this paper. 2. These perceptions came to attention in the confidential context of my role as an anonymous referee for a journal, hence I am not free to refer to sources. 3. John Selwyn Gummer, chair’s remarks at Royal Institute of International Affairs Energy and Environmental Programme Briefing meeting on Kyoto Summit, 17 December 1997. 4. See World Commission on Environment and Development (1987). For a more recent commentary which balances optimism and pessimism about population without requiring modification of the stance adopted here, see Dyson (1996). 5. See Francis (1997, pp. 1, 9); summarized in ISEE Newsletter, 8.3, Fall 1997, p. 9.

Part IV Duties

10 The Duties of Being and Association Mike Mills

Introduction1 The concern of this chapter is to consider the extent to which it is possible to develop a model of liberalism which can accommodate the political demands of sustainability. I begin by making some selective comments on the meaning and inferences of sustainability itself – these are selective insofar as they highlight areas of the concept which pose particular problems for liberalism. I then go on to construct a best-case view of liberalism, that is one which in my view has the best chance of answering the many criticisms that are made of it as far as ecological thought is concerned. There is, again, no systematic accounting for all criticisms, but I focus on those which seem central to the issue of sustainability. It becomes clear that the central difficulty for liberalism is that it gives little reason for people (citizens, office holders) to behave well within its system of rights and social justice and yet this is a fundamental prerequisite for sustainability. Through a consideration of Rawls and O’Neill, I argue that liberals must find a more fully developed theory of duty to supplement their sense of rights – it is only by doing this that we can see why people should behave sustainably at all.

Sustainability – some preliminary thoughts It is obvious, on some level, that sustainability is about ecology for this is the common way in which we refer to it. It is also commonly presumed that sustainability is a ‘good thing’ (Rawls, 1998, p. 131) because, again through context, to argue the opposite (that being ecologically unsustainable is desirable) appears to make very little intuitive 163

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sense. Yet, we do not all agree on what else, besides ecology, sustainability involves and, further, we do not agree on how much of the ‘good’ of sustainability we want if we have to sacrifice other ‘goods’ (freedom, choice or social justice for example). Consequently, Baker et al., 1997, argue that sustainability (or sustainable development) is an essentially contested concept (1996, p. 7) and we do not have to dig very deeply into it to realize why this is the case. In the literature on sustainability and sustainable development there is evidence of a superficial convergence of ideas which mask fundamental differences of detail and emphasis. Holmes Rolston (1994) suggests that overpopulation, overconsumption and underdistribution are the key problems to be resolved; Lipietz (1995) argues that sustainable development links the global ecological crisis, global demography and economic inequality; and Redclift (1993) is of the opinion that the biological, economic and social systems all have to be sustained because they are interdependent. On one level we seem to have agreement that sustainability involves managing the relationship between ecological, social and economic considerations. Yet it is equally clear that the balance between these three things – which should take ethical or logical priority – is not agreed upon at all. Guha and Martinez-Alier (1997) prioritize the social aspects of sustainability by emphasizing the need to resolve the injustices experienced by the South at the hands of the North. Other models, which have a more radically ‘green’ perspective, emphasize decentralization, the limits to growth and the limits of consumer society2 and so are more preoccupied with the ecological than the social aspects of sustainability. So, while it seems that the ‘sites’ of sustainability have been very broadly demarcated – which is a more or less empirical question once we accept that ecology is involved at all – we can get little further without approaching the question of the values we wish to bring to the process itself. This, of course, is where the ‘contestability’ of the concept comes from because differing sets of values which we apply to the concept will promote differing views of what it means. This is as true of liberalism as it is for other ideologies. Conceptually, though, we can go further. In common, then, with other political activities not only is it reasonable to expect that sustainability would be informed by some ethical assumptions (however implicit) but it is also reasonable to expect that the processes and outcomes which constitute sustainability should themselves be ethical. In other words, an unethical form of sustainability is, in fact, a

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contradiction in terms. Any system in which both the processes and the outcomes continually produce and reproduce, for example, inequalities and injustices cannot meaningfully be viewed as sustainable in the medium to long term. From the perspective of liberalism, then, if we are to test its ability to secure sustainability we are, in the first instance, testing its ability to secure it in a form which is ethically defensible. Yet, as Barry and Wissenburg made clear in their Introduction to this volume, sustainability is not something that has an intrinsic ethical basis. We cannot read off from the concept a set of principles, institutions or policies which must guide our actions, nor can we presume that all actions which are apparently committed to sustainability will necessarily be ethical. The difficulties here are obvious. Sustainability will only give us a very broad indication of ‘what’ to sustain and in what ways (how). Firstly, then, any project on sustainability should consider the ethical or logical premises from which it comes and must be clear that it is, indeed, compatible with the concept itself. Liberal democracy is such a premise, but it is only one among many and so the case for it has to be made. Importantly for the later argument, a corollary of this disagreement on what sustainability is and how it should be achieved is that we cannot presume a shared interest in it.3 It will not, therefore, be possible to assert that sustainability is a universal value or a universal ‘good’ unless it is framed in such a way as to make universal appeals to something else – justice, for example. Similarly, and also importantly, nor will there be a uniform ability to affect the ‘what’ and ‘how’ decisions. This power inequality (which, of course, always exists) is likely to be exaggerated in the case of sustainability because the institutions which ‘level the playing field’ at state level, do not exist in the global system. Needless to say, perhaps, sustainability is something which requires, at least in part, global solutions and global institutions. As before, the implication here is that if liberalism is to be compatible with sustainability there are certain preconditions which may need to apply – in this case these would be an ability to accommodate sustainability both within a view of rights and justice and to have the liberal institutions necessary for their delivery. If sustainability is about very broad global questions of redistribution, technology transfer, trade and so on, it is also about individuals. The literature emphasizes, although sometimes implicitly, an enhanced and novel role for personal responsibility. Although most value systems have something to say about individuals, it is unusual to find

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such an emphasis upon what individuals themselves can do to promote, deliberately, a collectively desirable outcome. The following from the Earth Council gives an indication of this: There is an urgent need to reach broad consensus, initially at the individual and civil society level, on a set of basic principles and values that can guide the actions of people and institutions towards sustainable development practices. (Earth Council, 1998, p. 1) Green thinking has historically tended to take a line similar to this, but it now seems central to any understanding of the concept of sustainability that (1) systemic change will be required in the way states and markets deal with each other but also that (2) systemic change alone will not be enough. This holds whether we take a ‘deep’ view of the problem or whether we view individuals as simply consumers whose preferences will shape the actions of corporations. There is, therefore, if not a ‘developmental’ view of the ‘self’ with regard to sustainability, then at the very least a sense that changes in the behaviour of individuals will be necessary to secure sustainability. In addition, it is also clear that this idea of personal responsibility applies whoever the individual is: whether we are parents who may educate our children into environmentally informed behaviour; whether we are political leaders who may pursue sustainable policies; whether we are teachers or members of large corporations.4 In short, there appears to be a ‘private’ or ‘personal’ aspect to achieving sustainability which coexists with its ‘public’ face. Again, this is central to our own understanding of liberalism and sustainability – their compatibility rests, crucially, on liberalism’s ability to accommodate both the systemic and the individual criteria which seem implicit in any understanding of what sustainability actually involves. The best-case model of liberalism we shall test below rests upon established systems of justice and rights which are individually, not ecologically, validated and so would prioritize the social or economic aspects of sustainability. If sustainability does involve an ecological aspect, that is if ecosystems are part of what is to be sustained and if the processes and outcomes which constitute sustainability must be ethical, then liberalism must concede that even though it may believe in the ethical priority of social and economic factors, it nevertheless acknowledges the logical premise of ecological factors.5 There is no contradiction inherent in arguing that we may believe in the ethical priority of individuals (over ecosystems) but that we acknowledge the

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need of the former for the latter. There seems to me to be at least three ways in which this can be argued. Firstly, social and economic factors rely upon the ecological being sustained so it is simply impossible to achieve social and economic sustainability without ecological sustainability. Secondly, a model of sustainability which prioritized the ecological but harmed the social (the normal complaint raised against those holding ecocentric ethics) would not in itself be ethical and, hence, not sustainable (see above). Thirdly, of course, ecological sustainability does not exclude humans anyway – for we are part of ecosystems – a biocentric ethic is also, in part, a human ethic. This, then, does not present insurmountable problems for liberalism because, as I argue below, taking account of ecology is possible within a liberal paradigm. It is nevertheless important to acknowledge the centrality of the ecological. If, as I said above, we must be ethical to be sustainable, it is also true that we must be ‘logical’ to be sustainable, that is we must be clear that when we test liberalism on sustainability we find not only an ethical foundation but one which can coherently acknowledge the logical primacy of ecological considerations. My argument will be that it is possible to construct a version of liberalism which can do this but such a version would need to take far greater account of individual duty than is usually the case within the paradigm.

Liberalism and sustainability Can liberalism accomplish an ethical and institutional framework within which sustainability is plausible? Some models of liberalism are very unlikely to do this – libertarian or neoliberal models, for example, seem restricted in the way they can accommodate an extended role of the state and the more contingent nature of individual freedom which sustainability implies. However, we can generate a best-case view of liberalism which offers a generous interpretation of liberalism’s limitations and so does not claim, in advance, that it is simply unsuitable to achieve ecological goals or ecologically sustainable processes.6 If we do not do this, it is hardly worth proceeding. For our purposes, a best-case view of liberalism need only be very basic and I am happy to borrow the following from Sagoff: Liberalism is the political theory that holds that many conflicting and even incommensurable conceptions of the good may be fully compatible with free, autonomous and rational action. Liberals

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contend, therefore, that political and social institutions should be structured to allow free and equal individuals the widest opportunities, consistent with the like opportunities of others to plan their own lives and to live the lives they plan. (Sagoff, 1988, p. 151) It is important to distinguish here between liberal values and liberal institutions – the latter observe neutrality or impartiality on competing conceptions of the good to allow the continuation of the former equally between individuals. It seems central, then, that these institutions exist and that they do so in the knowledge of how their actions conform to those values. The position of the individual is underpinned politically by a system of rights which protect against the arbitrary actions of both the state and other individuals. Theoretically this seems to be grounded either in a conception of rights as valid claims which can be made when entitlements are violated, or rights may be seen as interests which should be respected (see, Waldron, 1984, pp. 8–12). As far as sustainability is concerned, then, we might expect that it would be either the claims against others who violate some kind of environmental rights or a nominal universal conception of the individual’s ‘interest’ in a sustainable environment which would be the ethical basis for both personal and public action on the environment. Again, such action would need to acknowledge the broader aspects of a ‘just’ distribution of personal constraints or redistribution of ecological, social and economic costs. The point, at this stage, is that such a model is not inconceivable within a liberal paradigm and that, at first sight at least, it seems to be able to accommodate the institutional and personal aspects of sustainability I mentioned in the opening section. Importantly, it is not possible to infer policies or policy outcomes either from liberal philosophy or from liberal institutions. Liberal institutions need not be structured with a conception of the good in mind, so we cannot predict policy on the basis of those values or those institutions. Policy outcomes are, therefore, more fluid on this best-case view than critics normally allow. Greens, and others, often criticize liberals because they believe that their commitment to freedom, markets, individualism and so on necessarily means that liberal action and liberal policy must have a certain character which cannot meaningfully take the environment into account. On this best-case view, however, we should not dismiss liberalism as fundamentally incompatible with sustainability because there is no given set of policies associated with it. Consequently, liberalism may, or may not, be sustainable depending

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on the choices that are made. It also follows that concepts such as social justice and individual freedom are not given quantities (beyond a usual commitment to basic needs and ‘universal liberties’) but rather grounding principles the consideration of which is ethically necessary. Again, depending upon those choices and the extent to which ecological issues are seen as logically (although not necessarily ethically) prior to achievement of freedom and justice, liberals have a supportable case within this model. On this best-case view there is no necessary reason why the individual must be seen as an ‘absurd abstraction’ (Kymlicka, 1991, p. 15) unrelated to and unformed by social ties. Rather, the individual is formed within a framework of social norms which will shape their preferences and which will contribute to their perceptions of things such as justice and freedom. Again, this is significant because it does at least allow the possibility that under liberalism a broader perception of self-interest and ‘the good for oneself’ might exist and this might include the consideration of nature and others. We might expect that that would be done both individually and institutionally through a recognition of rights and the pursuit of justice. Generally, the best-case view sets the boundaries of entitlements (rights) more narrowly than critics of liberalism normally allow. Freedom is expressed more in terms of conscience than economics and so the imperatives of markets are seen as more subservient to these questions of conscience and justice than is typically attributed to liberal models. Social justice is the great qualifier of freedom insofar as it tempers the commitment to freedom with a like commitment to equal and impartial consideration of individuals in the public sphere. The liberal commitment to the individual pursuing the good for themselves has a meaning which, as Barry argues, ‘does not stand or fall on the viability of the enlightenment project’ (Barry, 1989b, p. 118). With such a fluid view of its central tenets, the best-case view of liberalism could easily argue that it is, indeed, compatible with at least some versions of sustainability. It would not, for example, make any sense within this model to argue for freedoms or redistributions of privilege which were simply impossible ecologically. Indeed, if some life choices are unsustainable then it would be illiberal to allow them to continue because of their effects on social justice. As such, a confident, best-case liberal might argue that individual freedoms within liberalism have always been contingent upon the possibility of like freedoms for others, and ecological scarcity need not change that principle. Similarly, social justice is relative to the extent that its precise practice (rather than the

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principle itself) is contingent upon whom we bring into our public sphere, the nature of the transfers and redistributions which are possible and so on – there is, in fact, very little social justice we are absolutely entitled to. In short, the range of policies which are admissible within a liberal paradigm are greater than is normally believed by its critics and the compatibility of liberalism with sustainability increases proportionately. If such an argument were to be accepted, then this chapter would more or less end here with the assertion that we can be liberal and sustainable at the same time. However, things are a little more complicated than this. We do not need to engage in a critique of liberalism which upsets its foundational elements to see that we need to add something to this model before we can be confident that such compatibility exists.

The rights problem Many of the criticisms that can be levelled at liberalism as far as sustainability is concerned are answerable to a greater or lesser extent. It is possible to see individuals within a social, as opposed to entirely atomized, context; consequently they may behave in enlightened ways towards others; liberals can constrain the actions of markets in the name of sustainability (even if on utilitarian grounds) and still remain liberal; and so on. However, my argument in this section is that problems still remain and that these problems centre largely on the reliance on rights and justice to promote ethical behaviour. I will argue that liberalism’s ethical foundations do not give us sufficient cause or reason to act ethically. Let us accept that it is possible to achieve sustainability within a broadly anthropocentric ethic – that it is not necessary to attribute equal ethical consideration to, say, animals and plants, but rather that enlightened human self-interest is sufficient (see, for example, Hayward, 1995). On the liberal model the ethical basis for such a position rests on the primacy of the individual’s choices and interests exercised through the recognition of their rights and the imperative of social justice. Individuals as citizens, public servants and so on are moved to act (or not act) on the presumption of the constraints of the rights of others and, when they associate at least, a broader sense of what is necessary to achieve a fair or impartial outcome when the aggregation of claims or interests is necessary. It is in these ways that liberalism proposes to resolve the two aspects of sustainability highlighted in the first section of this chapter – the need to secure individual commitments

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and the need also to secure institutional change. It is, as critics suggest, a model which is abstracted but need not, on the best-case view, isolate individuals from their social and cultural roots. But it is evident that our behaviour is not, in fact, motivated by the observance of the rights of others most of the time – indeed there is very little of ‘what we do’ that can be explained in this way. This, I would argue, applies particularly to the actions of individuals but it also applies to those in institutions who act on our behalf and is particularly true again of their relations with citizens in other countries. So, while we can argue that rights give us ‘redress’ and social justice provides a ‘test’ of the fairness of some policy and process some of the time it would seem drastically to overstate their usefulness to argue that they form the foundation of an ethic suitable to achieve sustainability. This ethic, as we saw in the first section, requires that individuals do change their behaviour in accordance with the needs of others. I am not arguing that individuals do not take others into account – although a theory which presumed they did would need to make the case – but rather that, if they do, then rights and social justice are not the reasons why. We can take this argument further, and two points seem important here. Firstly, if we consider rights to be ‘claims’ which are made when our rights have been violated then we need to be clear that the normal institutional infrastructure to process rights-claims actually exists. If it does not then we will witness injustice when the powerful are not obligated to respect the rights of the less powerful. Part of the dispute between competing perceptions of sustainability rests upon this sort of problem – that whatever claims developing countries may make to have rudimentary human rights recognized in the actions of developed countries, the sense of obligation and the institutional mechanisms necessary for its delivery are at best partial. Thus, if the broader liberal paradigm is to provide the basis for implementing sustainability, viewing rights as claims is not necessarily helpful because it both assumes obligations which are not perceived by agents and effectively places the ethical imperative in the wrong place – upon the claimant in the first instance rather than the violator. Secondly, we may view rights as interests the recognition of which should inform our actions before we act – this would seem to resolve the previous difficulty insofar as it places the ethical imperative on the agents themselves – they should take the interests (rights) of others into account before they act. Here, though, we must return to what we believe a person’s interests actually are. We saw in an earlier section

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that it is by no means clear that we will get agreement on what sustainability – as an interest – actually involves nor how we might strike the balance between an interest in ecological, social or economic sustainability. With competing perceptions of what basic interests might be, it seems at least dubious that rights as interests will provide a thorough enough basis on which sustainability might progress. The great political virtue of sustainability is that its very openness provides a framework within which interests may be discussed – this does not, however, infer that we will agree upon what those interests are. It is also in the nature of interests that they ‘collide’ – your interest in fresh water or clean air may preclude my interest in heating, lighting and clothing. In other words we have done little more than displace and defer the decision on what we should do. Consequently, it is not possible to argue, as liberals are inclined to do, that the pursuit of self-interest will provide a collectively useful outcome in this instance. Similarly, this model of rights, particularly in the context of sustainability, asks a very great deal of those agents who are in a position to violate those rights. Not only are they expected to know what their interests are, but they must also take them into account. This must be done without a legal sanction for non-compliance being available and when the respect of such interests may incur large political costs domestically. Moreover, such actions will take place within an ethical framework the nature of which is fundamentally systemic in character and is, in effect, defined by the borders of the institutions available for its delivery.7 In other words, it is bounded essentially by the rather abstract notion of citizenship – entirely unlike sustainability. While rights and justice would seem indispensable in any system which has to aggregate preferences, they are a very poor indication of how most people, most of the time, should behave. This is true both of individuals as citizens and private persons, and of those such as politicians, civil servants and corporation members who work within institutions. We come to the position where we are unsure of why, within a liberal paradigm, we might expect people to do those things which appear necessary for sustainability to work – why might they change their personal behaviour without sanctions for the violations of the rights of others; why might they consider ‘the ecological’ as logically prior to a sense of social justice or individual freedom; why should they perceive shared interests with those outside of their own institutional boundaries (or recognize their claims)? In short, there is little that exists to ‘move’ us either politically or personally if we do not want to be moved.

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In the absence of purely systemic solutions to the problems of sustainability we must begin with a more personal account of the duties and obligations which precede systemic solutions – there is, as far as I can see, nowhere else to go. In doing this, the hope is that we may find a reason why we may act sustainably at both the political and personal level. O’Neill has argued that: rights do not banish obligation. On the contrary, once rights have been vindicated, obligations will be entailed: but they will not be the primary focus of ethical consideration. When the perspective of recipience is taken as the starting point of practical reasoning, the more traditional and more obviously practical questions about ethical requirements, such as ‘What ought we (or I) do?’, ‘How should we (or I) live?’ and ‘What is to be done?’ will be answered only as a secondary and derivative matter. (O’Neill, 1996, p. 128) In short, O’Neill is saying that in creating a system based on recipience (rights in this case) our sense of duty and obligation which has a more personal aspect is undermined. Yet, I have argued that these are precisely the things which appear necessary for sustainability to work. The viability of the best-case liberal model appears, then, to rest on its ability to frame a convincing account of duty and obligation for it is clear that these must be seen as prior to any account of justice and rights. It is what liberals have to say about duties which will determine whether there is a fundamental compatibility between liberalism and sustainability. I will do this with reference to Rawls’s position in A Theory of Justice.

Duties and Rawls It appears conventional when talking of duties to distinguish between what Rawls calls ‘natural duties’ and ‘obligations’ (1971, pp. 114–15). Natural duties are duties we owe to everyone because of their equal moral value and which are not the result of voluntary acts – we do not volunteer to take them on, we simply have them as a consequence of being a person among others. One of the ‘natural duties’ we have, according to Rawls, is that of justice, that is we have a natural duty to support just institutions. Obligations, on the other hand, are things we have as a result of participating in institutions which are fair and from which we gain some advantage and so are the result of voluntary acts because we choose to participate in those institutions. Once in those institutions we acquire an obligation to act fairly (his test of justice)

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and this fairness is defined institutionally. Regan (1984, p. 273) makes a similar distinction when he speaks of ‘unacquired’ and ‘acquired’ duties. Importantly, Rawls argues that the principles for the basic structure (institutions) are prior to those of the obligations and duties of individuals because they come from a pre-existing ‘social form’. So, the basic principle of fairness accounts for the resulting obligations of public office and the natural duties individuals have towards each other. As far as sustainability is concerned this is important because it seems at first glance to provide the reason why those in public might act fairly and why citizens must support those institutions – they have a duty to. It seems to me that this distinction (between natural duties and obligations) is very nearly helpful because there are at least two good and obvious reasons for making it in this way. The first is that we are then in a position to distinguish between duties we voluntarily enter into and those we do not; and the second is that it is very easy to tell the difference between an institutional obligation and a natural duty. However, this clarity does come at a price. Although it seems reasonable to say that all duties outside of institutions are involuntary, it seems less reasonable to infer that all obligations inside institutions are voluntary. The problem here is simply that it would seem intuitively sensible to believe that natural duties are retained wherever we are and that such a retention is actually emphasized theoretically. Without doing this, the dualism implicit in making a spatial distinction (state/ obligation and society/duty) is dangerously oversimplified – dangerously, because, as Rawls argues, obligations are always defined institutionally, are generally owed to other (institutionally located) individuals but are mediated or exercised within a general presumption of fairness, broader obligations to citizens, playing by the rules of the game and so on. At this point, the danger might appear more obvious. Rawls has, from the very beginning, worked with an abstract set of principles derived from social forms as prior to those natural duties which regulate our behaviour. He then moves on to say that obligations which apply to those institutions are defined institutionally and uses such obligations as the test of how those in public office should behave both towards each other and towards other, non-institutionalized individuals. This is at least one move too many. It simply describes, and accounts for, why institutions can become self-serving, why they may define obligations in terms which are conceptually removed, on Rawls’s account, at least twice from the individuals in whose name fairness is administered and which implicitly and explicitly prioritize the

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imperative of ‘associating’ over the duty of simply ‘being’ a person. In short, the weakness here seems to be not only that, as O’Neill (1996) says, the notion of duties and obligations play very little part in Rawls’s broader theory of justice, but also that the way in which they are theorized creates a conceptual ‘gap’ between an ethic of justice and an ethic of virtue which is much larger than it needs to be. The ‘danger’ then is both that the ethic of justice predominates at the institutional level (we ‘are’ simply an institutional obligation rather than a human being) and that it increasingly bears little resemblance to broader ethical norms (i.e. duties) with which it is expected to be congruent. As far as sustainability is concerned, the danger is that institutional behaviour becomes parochial and defined by institutional goals and that those within institutions lose their sense of being ‘a person among others’ – these things would seem to be unfortunate in the search for sustainability. All this stems, I believe, from prioritizing the principles of the ‘basic structure’. Although Rawls would not argue that his institutional obligations allowed someone in public office to avoid their natural duties (e.g. being a public servant does not, ordinarily, allow you to kill another person), nevertheless he creates the conditions within which we acquire further, and personally more pressing, obligations so long as we can conceive of the system as fair and we are accepting some benefit from it. This position is further upheld because Rawls also argues that we have a natural duty of justice, that is a natural duty to support just institutions. Yet, as O’Neill argues, the best (most just, fairest) system in the world can be undermined by bad people – the virtue of public office holders cannot, therefore, be seen as separate from the ability of just systems to operate according to their principles. Similarly, the virtue of non-office holders is central to their ability to recognize the needs of others and behave accordingly. It seems clear, though, that not only do we not ‘leave our natural duties at home’ when we enter the institutional or public realm, but also that without a continuing sense of those duties still applying, that is of ‘being’ a person in the social sense, we are hardly able to perform our obligations as Rawls sees them. It is difficult to see how we can, for example, respect the rights of others (whether these are characterized as claims or interests) without first being aware of our natural duties to them. This justice is vulnerable to the vagaries of institutional change but more importantly it separates itself from its parent, natural duties, on which it relies for its basic ethical sense. In short, this divorce of justice from virtue (duty) has led to public acts and processes failing to appear grounded in what Rawls would call

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a natural sense of duty, yet such a divorce is not inevitable. O’Neill argues convincingly that we can conceive of justice as borne of more than fairness, freedom and equality and can extend it to include things such as the rejection of injury, for example. In this way, the duties (virtues) we normally associate with individuals become central aspects of our sense of justice – in other words the movement is from natural duty to institutional obligations in a far more direct way. These are important issues for a subject such as sustainability. The concept of sustainability relies upon (in fact identifies the need for) a change in our perception of duties both in the private and the public realm. It requires, as Agenda 21 suggests, a bottom-up approach to change which engages the private with broader ecological, social and economic goals. Similarly, it presumes institutional change at the interstate level with a broadening of the boundaries of moral considerability if not to other species, then at least beyond the borders of national citizenship. How, without a sense of natural duty, is such a broadening possible? There is no sensible way in which rights by themselves are likely to achieve this because the power inequalities and the competing conceptions of what an interest amounts to appear to preclude this. Similarly, to change our sense of the community to which our justice applies infers a prior sense not of rights but of duty as the motor of ethical consideration. Sustainability appears fundamentally to be a challenge to our ability to view ourselves, at the very least, as a person among others.

Conclusion – the duties of being and association My argument is that it is central to any liberal purpose with regard to sustainability, or to other policy areas, that this strict distinction between the public and private ethical realms is taken down, at least partially. If this is not the case, then we rely solely on systemic constraints to provide the ethical behaviour both of individuals and office holders and this, in itself, will not be sufficient to promote (actively, positively) sustainability. It is insufficient because, as we saw earlier, to use rights as claims or as interests is a less than adequate way of seeing others as morally considerable and so a sense of duty, a purposive sense of being among others, is an absolute prerequisite for action beyond that of self-interest. This is particularly true of liberal theory because it does not readily acknowledge the ability of the state to be grounded in values which themselves would promote sustainability (although it does admit the possibility of this).

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If my analysis of liberalism has been correct then many of its famous weaknesses can be overcome as long as we can give a convincing argument for duty within the paradigm. From the consideration of Rawls, it seems that weaknesses do exist in the way duty is presented, but it is possible to reconstitute this account, within a broadly liberal paradigm, so that the concept of duty can serve the purpose which, for example, O’Neill, sees as necessary. It seems more straightforward (and less dangerous) to say that these natural duties, which I will now call ‘duties of being’,8 are simply an aspect of being a person among others and these are duties which coexist with, and are the founding principles of, any further duties (obligations) we acquire with respect to associating in a more political sense – I will call these ‘duties of association’. The clarity which Rawls gained from separating these out was, I argued, gained at the cost of prioritizing obligations (duties of association) over and above duties of being (natural duties). The central point here is that we do not cease to be a person among others simply because we hold public office (or private office) – indeed it would be useful to see most duties of association as simply codified or institutional forms of duties of being. It should be with great reluctance then that we admit that the duties we acquire when we enter institutions vary with our fundamental duties of being. The difference between this account and Rawls’s is that Rawls saw the connection between the public and the private realms as existing through justice – we had a natural duty of justice (to support just institutions) and once inside institutions we also were required to observe justice as a broad constraint on our behaviour, a broad goal towards which our actions should, ultimately, lead. This, I believe, gives individuals far too much latitude for it is possible to see most actions as leading to justice ‘in the end’ but these actions may, in themselves, be neither just or ethical.9 The link between the public and private realms is, therefore, much more safely (as opposed to dangerously) pursued through virtue, through the carrying of basic duties of being from the private into the public realm. This way, it should not be possible to argue that, for example, our reluctance to commit politically to sustainability is a just act because it fulfils an abstract ideal of ‘a just society’, when as a consequence basic human (and non-human) suffering is the outcome. As far as I can see, there are few duties of association which do not have their counterpart in duties of being. Feinberg (1980, pp. 130–42), for example, lists our duties as, among others, the duties of reparation, need fulfilment, reciprocation, respect, status, compelling

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appropriateness and so on. In short, those basic duties we have to others simply by virtue of their ‘being’ hold very well even when we associate politically. Although we clearly do accumulate new responsibilities and obligations which we would not have in the private sphere (to abide by particular job-specific rules, to fulfil tasks, to observe processes and so on), most duties of association most of the time require little more than a sense that we should be aware of the consequences of our actions on others, that they have reasonable expectations of us, that we should avoid harming them, that we are responsible if we adversely affect them, that we should fulfil commitments we have made, that given a reasonable opportunity to promote the welfare of others we should take it. Importantly, this ties individuals less to institutionally defined goals and processes – where the limits of our duties, obligations and responsibilities end with the boundaries of institutional design – and more to our sense of where the consequences of our actions will fall. In this way we do not, and should not, wait for those institutional changes necessary to support a rights-based liberal account of sustainability, but may proceed to acknowledge basic human duties towards others in advance of a systemic account of why this might be justified.

Notes 1. I would like to thank Anne Phillips, Marius de Geus and John Barry for their comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. 2. Overviews of these positions can be found in, for example, Dobson (1995) and Martell (1994). 3. Interest in this sense does not mean the opposite of disinterest, but rather a political interest which may or may not take precedence over or be the foundational elements of others such as freedom or justice. 4. There is a very interesting paper by Palmer (1998) in which she discusses the formative influences of children’s environmental concerns. 5. This can be done within an anthropocentric paradigm although my own belief is that such a paradigm is not the obvious inference. 6. Much ecological thought dismisses liberalism as fundamentally incompatible with and antithetical to sustainability. Indeed, liberalism is more often than not seen as the problem, not the solution. 7. This point will be considered further in the discussion on Rawls, below. 8. Duties of being would include things such as the duty to keep a promise, to avoid harming others, to give assistance to those in need, to avoid slandering others and so on. 9. We can imagine, for example, that withholding information on the adverse consequences of policy, misleading the public on the reasons for state action, covering up policy failures, or pursuing public policies for private gain could all have public benefits ‘in the end’ without being defensible actions in themselves.

11 Virtue, Sustainability and Liberal Values Ludvig Beckman

Introduction Citizens have in the last few decades become increasingly aware of the interdependence of ecological and economic issues. Today, economic growth and technical progress are imaginable only within a framework of sustainable relations with the environment and ecosystems. One way to specify this view is to say, with the Brundtland Commission, that we need to find forms of development that satisfy present needs without reducing the ability of future generations to satisfy their needs. Another approach is found in the view that the content of any conception of sustainability must be articulated politically rather than scientifically. On the second view, the problem of finding routes for sustainable development becomes less a matter of identifying appropriate means to ends already given and to a greater extent a matter of exploring, collectively, what these ends may be. Either way, the fact that the sustainability of the consumerist and individualist lifestyle is put into question undoubtedly raises a whole range of questions about how to reconstruct our society. What new economic and political institutions are needed? What regulations and set of incentives are necessary in order to redirect patterns of behaviour in sustainable directions? However, the question of sustainable behaviour cannot be reduced to a discussion about balancing carrots and sticks. The citizen that sorts her garbage or that prefers ecological goods will often do this because she feels committed to ecological values and ends. The citizen may not, that is, act in sustainable ways solely out of economic or practical incentives: people sometimes choose to do good for other reasons than fear (of punishment or loss) or desire (for economic rewards or social status). People sometimes do good because they want to be virtuous. 179

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We may assume then that one way to achieve sustainability is to make citizens attend to ecological virtue. Encouraging ecological virtue, the sense that attending to the needs of other species and future generations are parts of the good life, provides an alternative to the focus on incentives. A politics of virtue can (and probably has for a long time already) supplement more traditional approaches to environmental and green issues. There is the prospect, as has recently been suggested, of a theory and practice of ecological virtue (Barry, 1999a). Yet, from a liberal-democratic perspective the prospect of a politics of virtue raises questions of a different kind. The pursuit of ecological virtue may in fact be in conflict with fundamental principles and values of the liberal-democratic state. Liberty and respect for diversity of beliefs are fundamental values of a liberal democracy. It can be argued that these values are incompatible with the idea of a state supporting or promoting any particular way of life and its virtues. A common belief is that the state should remain neutral to questions concerning virtue and the good life. If the state encourages ecological lifestyles the implication could be that other, non-ecological, forms of life will be disadvantaged or perhaps even disparaged by public institutions. The idea of the citizen as a creature free to pursue her own convictions and inclinations, without interference by the state, is jeopardized by the idea of a politics of virtue. Even when ecological virtue is understood less in terms of a conception of the good life and more in terms of functional adaptation to the requirements of sustained growth, the question remains. Finn Bowring recently expressed the suspicion about a politics of virtue by asking to ‘what extent individuals should be taught, exhorted, seduced or induced to behave in conformity with the needs of economic, social or ecological rationalization’ (Bowring, 1997, p. 94). Can the state legitimately enrol virtue and ethics in the quest for environmental sustainability? The conflict between a politics of ecological virtue and liberal ideals is a real possibility. In this paper I will investigate three ideas of contemporary theory that might constitute a problem to a politics of ecological virtue. These ideas are: (a) individualism, or the idea that the individual should have the right to form her opinions independently; (b) equality, or the idea that the liberal state has an obligation to treat all lifestyles equally; and (c) scepticism, or the idea that the truth of what virtues and lifestyles are good is uncertain. These ideas have powerful advocates among contemporary theorists. Each consideration has the potential to, by itself, reject the idea that the government can support or encourage ecological virtues. The aim of this article is to

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examine the force of these considerations. I will argue that neither individualism, equality nor scepticism provides sufficient reasons for denouncing a politics of virtue. In the last section I will reflect more generally on the implications of a politics of ecological virtue in the context of liberal-democratic institutions.

Liberal individualism Is a politics of ecological virtue compatible with liberal individualism? What constraints are imposed on green politics by the fact that we live in an age of the individual? The answer will naturally depend on what is implied by individualism. Considered as a doctrine of the good life, individualism has long been out of fashion. More often than not individualism is conceived of as a doctrine about the right for the individual to do whatever she likes. Yet the idea that life should be led individually can be regarded as a conception of the good life on its own. This insight was well understood by John Stuart Mill who envisaged life at its best as devoted to the authentic expression of the individual’s particular nature. The individual should aim at realizing the forces and tendencies that make her ‘a living thing’ (Mill, 1977, p. 263). For Mill, individuality was a virtue that presupposed a certain effort in order to grow and prosper. A similar, albeit less romantic, version of the individualistic ethic has recently been provided by Ronald Dworkin. In the following I will investigate to what extent Dworkin’s idea of individuality amounts to an objection to a politics of virtue. The point about life is not only that it is good but that the individual has chosen and defined for herself what is good. Finding out that life is good for you is the ‘challenge’ that is the point of life according to Dworkin’s interpretation of the individualistic message (Dworkin, 1990, p. 67f., 75f.). If life is a challenge it is easy to see why there is an argument to the effect that the government should be neutral. A government that imposes a particular doctrine of virtue or goodness would interfere with the individual’s choice of life. That would, in effect, be to make the individual’s life less successful in terms of her ability to respond to her own challenges. A politics of virtue would consequently make life worse: to respond to the challenge of life is to find out for yourself what is good. Only when ecological virtue is the result of the individual’s free choices will the ecological way of life contribute to the good life. Enforced virtues are no virtues at all on the individualistic view. Dworkin’s idea of life as a challenge is powerful and, probably, intuitively attractive to many. It introduces the idea of integrity in choice

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to complement the idea of good choice simply. What matters in Dworkin’s account is the struggle for the good life more than the achievement of goodness. An individual is not a bowl in which goodness can be poured. Good lives are not created but lived. It has been argued that Dworkin’s ethic constitutes a defence for toleration similar to that found in John Locke’s Letter on Toleration (Cohen, 1998, p. 216). The simple, but nevertheless controversial point Locke made was that forcing the disbeliever to recognize true faith is of no avail if the aim is to make the heretic a better person. Any attempt to create faith by force is self-defeating because faith presupposes conviction and force cannot create that. Locke’s argument concerns the rationality of force as a means to virtue (Waldron, 1988). The parallel to Dworkin might seem obvious. Dworkin too denies that force can make men virtuous. While Locke speaks in terms of ‘faith’ Dworkin’s conception of life as a challenge would seem to have similar implications. Neither goodness nor faith can be created since both presuppose the individual’s free choice. These similarities notwithstanding, I believe that Dworkin should not be understood as ‘generalizing Locke’s argument’ (Cohen, 1998, p. 216). In contrast to Locke’s assessment of the rationality in using force to create faith or virtue, Dworkin’s point is ethical. Dworkin is not saying that coercion cannot make people attend to this or that virtue. What he does say is enforced virtue cannot substitute for the value of finding out individually what is good in life. Goodness and virtue are, necessarily, self-made. Thus, virtue and goodness that are imposed are not really that. Does this mean that adherence to individualism excludes the idea of a state that promotes virtue? It seems to me that the implications of Dworkin’s conception of life as a challenge are more restricted than might first seem to be the case. Basically, there are two limitations to the individualistic argument. First, whereas it might be true that, as is suggested by Dworkin’s argument, force and coercion are inappropriate means to create virtuous citizens, there definitely are other means by which such ends could be promoted. A politics of virtue need not, indeed should not, use force in order to enhance the goodness of society. Thus, when virtue is promoted by non-coercive means the conflict between the challenge model and the politics of virtue seems to disappear. A state encouraging people to attend to ecological virtues will not distort these people’s search for the good life. The point with life, to define the right challenge, is not undermined by a benevolent, virtuous, state.

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Second, while the idea of life as a challenge constitutes an effective point against paternalistic endeavours it has no effect against moralistic aims. There is in other words a difference between paternalism and moralism, and an individualistic ethic provides protection only against the former. Now what is the difference between paternalism and moralism? According to one influential definition paternalism is the ambition to protect the individual from herself. A paternalistic state regulates in order to prevent ‘harm to oneself’. Moralism, by contrast, is concerned with goodness that does not constitute harm to anyone. A moralistic state regulates harmless acts that ‘constitute or cause evils of other kinds’ (Feinberg, 1988, pp. xx, 324). It is clear that the individualistic idea that the good life presupposes freedom of choice provides an objection to certain paternalistic measures. If the government wants to make its citizens happier by prohibiting what it takes to be corrupting forms of culture it would always fail in ethical terms. This is so because the only way whereby people can benefit from not succumbing to ‘subversive modes of behaviour’ is by realizing by themselves what forms of culture and what modes of life are good and valuable. A prohibition may prevent certain tangible harms but it will not make people live better lives unless they also accept the values on which the prohibition is based. Yet a state sometimes wants to create goodness for its own sake, not because it makes people happier or better. This is typically the case with aesthetical judgements. The government might, for instance, want to impose certain standards of architecture or decide to promote certain forms of literature or art. In doing these things the aim need not be to make people live better lives (paternalism) but simply to make society as a whole objectively better. A city with coherent architectural style may be considered to exhibit features that are good in themselves. Aesthetical values are not the only kind of intrinsic values, however. The aim to reduce certain forms of exploitation (e.g. of sex) might be understood in similar terms, that it is a good in itself that certain social relations are avoided. Such moralistic aims do not seem to be incompatible with Dworkin’s individualistic ethic. Moralistic aims are not self-defeating in the sense that paternalistic aims must be from an individualistic point of view. Paternalism appears self-defeating because it attempts to create from the outside what can only be created from the inside: a good life. By contrast, moralism is not focused on making people’s lives better and this is why such aims are not contradicted by individualistic values.

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The pursuit of ecological virtue could helpfully be understood in terms of moralism. Ecological virtues are good not because they help individuals meet their private challenges, they are good because they inhibit features that are themselves worthy of attention. A green life is not primarily a better life (although it might be that too). The value of living responsibly with regard to other beings and things resides not so much in what it allows the individual to be as in what it allows the world and our society to be. However, the fact that individualism cannot accuse moralism of being self-defeating, as it can with respect to paternalism, is not to say that there is no conflict at all. The relation between moralistic ends and individuality is closer to that of a trade-off situation. At a certain point the promotion of virtue, goodness and art is likely to reduce the opportunity to live an individualistic life. The consequence of a moralistic state may be that variation and pluralism in society is reduced to a point where the idea of the individual choosing her own life is empty. This is why the benefits of moralistic aims must always be weighed against the ethical costs in terms of individualistic aims. There must be a balance between these values – a balance I do not pretend to know how best to keep. My point here has been to make clear the distinction between moralism and paternalism and to emphasize the differences from the point of view of an individualistic ethic. The liberal idea of the good life, that life is a challenge, constitutes a powerful objection to paternalistic policies. But liberal visions of individuality are not incompatible with what I have characterized as moralistic aims: it only makes evident the costs of such policies.

Equality of lifestyles? Liberal democracy is based on the premise of political equality. This is evident in the sense that whatever legal, political and social rights exist are distributed equally or include everyone. People are equals in a democracy because they all have the right to vote, they all have the right not to be intimidated or silenced by the government, etc. Yet liberal democracy relates to the notion of equality in a more fundamental way than the idea of ‘equal rights’ would lead us to think. The implications of equality are manifest in John Rawls’s suggestion that the values and principles that underpin society must be acceptable to everyone. We should assume that citizens are ‘free and equal’. This means that all political and economic institutions must rest on ideas that can in principle be accepted by everyone (Rawls, 1993, p. 22f.).

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Citizens are equals to the extent to which they are included in and respected by the reasoning and the beliefs that justify the institutional framework of society. Equals will not, of course, accept anything less than equal rights. No one has a reason to accept a political system that gives her less political power than anyone else. This is how Rawls justifies the conclusion that a just political system will have to be democratic. However, for our purposes another of Rawls’s conclusions is more important. In fact, Rawls claims that the idea of a just political system is incompatible with the state recognizing particular lifestyles as superior to others. Just institutions should not depend on opinions about what lives are good. The idea of a politics of virtue is not compatible with the idea that citizens are equals. Why does Rawls believe this? At first sight the reason might seem obvious. No one has a reason to accept other people’s lifestyles and everyone consequently has a reason to want to the state to be neutral in relation to them. Citizens who perceive themselves as equals will not accept that some people’s lifestyle is considered more valuable than their own. The reasoning that leads to the idea of neutrality with respect to lifestyles is thus analogous to the reasoning that leads to the idea of equal rights. Does the analogy hold? Using the notion of ‘lifestyle’ seems to suggest that the way a person chooses to live and the virtues she may aspire to are on a par with preferences and tastes. A lifestyle is a ‘style’, a way of doing things. This includes the way you walk, dress and eat. In other words, lifestyles are tastes and, surely, no one has a reason to accept the tastes of another person. You like mambo, I like tango and that’s fine with me. It is probably reasonable to conclude that tastes do not constitute acceptable justifications for political decisions. People’s preferences concerning music, ice cream or dressing should not be allowed to influence political decisions. This is not to say, however, that lifestyles should be considered as on a par with preferences or tastes. In fact, my belief is that not all lifestyles are treated justly when described in terms of ‘preference’ or subjective ‘taste’. For one thing, lifestyles typically include beliefs about what is ethically good and bad. Such beliefs are not intended to represent the agent’s personal preferences. Green lifestyles are not concerned merely with what you should eat or wear; they often include commitments to ideals about what everyone should eat or wear. Conceiving green lifestyles as mere expressions of taste is to impose on them a subjectivist outlook. The point is that lifestyles may include ethical beliefs about what is good or

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virtuous that concern others in a sense that tastes do not. Wants and tastes are ‘person centred’ in a way that beliefs about what is good and bad are not ( Jones, 1989, p. 53). We cannot assume then that lifestyles are reducible to tastes. Of course, a defender of equality and neutrality could insist, in face of the self-understandings of people, that lifestyles should be treated as on a par with tastes or preferences. In that case, the commitments and beliefs that are part of many lifestyles will be ignored and considered as irrelevant. From the ‘outside’, it could be argued, all beliefs are as subjective as tastes – no matter whether they concern a taste for ice cream or virtue. But reducing conceptions of the good to the language of preference is not itself a neutral way of describing these conceptions. Patrick Neal aptly catches this point when he says that there is something wrong with liberal ‘conceptualizations’ of the good. To translate all conceptions of the good into the language of preferences is to deny them an important aspect of their meaning (Neal, 1987). Treating lifestyles equally should, then, include recognizing them as something more than mere tastes. Equals should not conceptualize each other’s lifestyles in ways that conflict with their self-understandings. To acknowledge the potential difference between lifestyles and tastes means reconsidering the conclusion that equality warrants the exclusion of both from public political reasoning. In order to vindicate such a view it would have to be assumed that tastes and lifestyles are analogous in their subjectivity. But they are not. Whereas the conclusion that the state should not base policies on evaluations of taste has an apparent attraction, the conclusion that references to lifestyles should also be excluded is not that apparent. Where does Rawls stand on this issue? In his early work Rawls seems to have reduced all beliefs, including lifestyles, to a matter of subjective preference. Rawls described the citizen’s beliefs and values in terms of ‘life-plans’ (Rawls, 1971, p. 18 and § 63). Later, Rawls takes a somewhat revised position. Rawls’s recent work conveys no references to plans of life. The lifestyles citizens embrace are no longer conceived of as matters of personal concern only, they are described in terms of ‘doctrines’ or ‘ideals’ (Rawls, 1993, p. 38).1 Thus, Rawls no longer reduces lifestyles to tastes and preferences. The conclusion is, consequently, that the inference from equality to neutrality is invalid. The liberal idea that citizens are equals does not, then, provide a conclusive argument for accepting the idea of a neutral state. Neither the idea of equality nor of individuality provides conclusive

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arguments against a politics of virtue. How then can the idea of the neutral state be justified? One suggestion is to say that ideas of what is good or virtuous are inherently uncertain. This is the reply of the sceptic. To an examination of his arguments we now turn.

Scepticism about virtue A common belief is that the liberal-democratic state should not challenge the beliefs of its citizens. What the citizen believes in is her own business: the government and the state should not express an opinion on the merits of the individual’s ideals and convictions. An equally common objection to this view is that a democracy does not seem to go well with just any beliefs that people might have. When people are convinced about the truth of what Mein Kampf says they may feel they have the right to resist democratic decisions and infringe the rights of other citizens. The same could be said about some religious convictions and certain ideologies too. Now some such doctrines may pose a problem for democrats because they want people to make their own choices in life. Yet some choices people make might not be very good for democratic institutions. Brian Barry provides a solution to this paradox. Barry suggests that the problem is concerned more with how people hold their beliefs than what they believe in: ‘A liberal has no objection to anyone holding a dogma, so long as it is not held dogmatically’ (Barry, 1989a, p. 37). There is thus a difference between a dogma and a dogmatic: there is a difference between believing strange or evil things, and strongly believing strange or evil things. People have dogmas and should be able to foster whatever dogma they want. What they must not do is to believe in these dogmas dogmatically. When citizens renounce certainty about what virtues and lives are good they will realize that the state should be neutral in relation to such beliefs. A dogmatic person is certain about what life is good for everyone. Since she wants the state to do what is good she will as a consequence want the state to support only her conception of the good life. The dogmatic citizen rejects liberal neutrality because she is certain about the truth. A non-dogmatic person, by contrast, will appreciate that there are many different versions of the good life. All such beliefs are uncertain and many, perhaps all, may in fact turn out to be wrong. The state should not, therefore, accept any particular doctrine as true and right (Barry, 1995, section 27). Barry’s point is that citizens must not only accept that truths are contested (Rawls’s solution). Citizens have to realize that truths are uncertain, contested or not.

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The sceptic vein of Barry’s reasoning is typical of the liberal tradition. Like Barry, Bertrand Russell argued, half a century ago, for the need of ‘tentativeness’ to substitute dogmatic belief (Russell, 1955, p. 24). Truths should be considered as hypothesis rather than as definitive knowledge. Only tentativeness can, Russell believed, save the world from conflict between dogmatics. Attractive as the sceptic attitude may be its implications are far from clear. The sceptic liberal recommends doubt. But why should the ecologist, Marxist, conservative or the feminist doubt the truth of her doctrine? The argument put forward by Barry is that there are historical reasons why no particular conception of the good life should be considered as true. We should accept that our beliefs about virtue and goodness are uncertain because no such belief has ever achieved much support. The fact that people disagree about what life is good is a reason to doubt them according to Barry. But in fact, this is not a very good reason for doubt. In order for a person to doubt the truth of her beliefs she must have a specific reason that tells her why she ought to doubt the truth of these beliefs. As made clear by Joseph Raz, doubt means awareness of a flaw. You feel uncertain about the truth of X when you have indications to the effect that the contrary to X may be true (Raz, 1994, p. 85f.). You doubt the truth of what someone is telling you because you suspect she is lying – not because you know that people frequently lie. The general argument for doubt presented by Barry is consequently no good reason to feel uncertain about the correctness of any particular idea of virtue. Ecological virtues are no more likely to be wrong or false just because other conceptions of the good life have, historically, proven to be false. The contention that truths are generally uncertain is unsupported: it would be irrational to doubt the truth of a belief without having specific reasons to doubt it. Still, there is a grain of soundness in Barry’s idea of uncertainty. In order to appreciate what this is I believe it is necessary to reconsider what the idea of uncertainty refers to. The point is that there is a dimension to truth that may be far more important than that of certainty or uncertainty. This is seen once we realize that a person who is certain about her truths may take one of either two attitudes to the prospect of ever adjusting or revising what she believes to be true. She might, on the one hand, believe that what she believes is true can never be proven wrong. Truth is then regarded as non-revisable. She might, on the other hand, believe that what she believes true can be proven wrong. In that case, she believes the truth is revisable and therefore possible to

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reconsider. Thus, whether a person is prepared to adjust her truths or not, in light of new evidence or good arguments, does not hinge upon the extent to which she is certain or not about truth. A person who feels certain that her conception of the good is true can recognize that there might, in the future, be better arguments for some other version of the good. A person who accepts that is a criticalbeliever; she is a person that believes both in the certainty and revisability of truth. This person is to be contrasted with the dogmaticbeliever that is not prepared to listen to what others have to say about the truth. She is the true dogmatic and, possibly, a danger to liberal institutions. Barry does not distinguish between these issues. The mistaken conclusion is then that we all have to be criticaldoubters, that everyone has to recognize both the revisability and uncertainty of truth. This is demanding too much. Doubt is not required by liberal standards. What is required is, however, that people are prepared to argue and discuss their beliefs with each other. In avoiding dogmatism, the essential thing is that people have a critical attitude. This means being prepared to revise our beliefs in light of new and better evidence. The essence of this attitude is better captured by the term ‘tentativeness’ used by Russell than by the notion of uncertainty used by Barry. A critical attitude is one thing, doubt and uncertainty about the truth is another. Liberal democracy needs critical citizens, but it does not need doubters.2 The conclusion is that neutrality to virtues cannot be justified in terms of sceptic uncertainty. Since there is no reason for believers in virtue to doubt the truth of their doctrines, there is consequently no reason why they should abandon the claim to be supported by the state. A critical-believer is prepared to argue and deliberate in common about the nature of virtue. The critical citizen is prepared to revise her doctrines as a result of the arguments presented to her in public debate. However, the critical citizen does not see why she would have to suppress, by default, all her visions about the good life and virtue.

Concluding remarks In this paper I have examined three possible objections to the pursuit of ecological virtue. I have found that three typically liberal arguments, based on the value of individuality, the idea of equality and the need for scepticism, do not constitute conclusive arguments against such policies. Thus, the idea of a politics of virtue is not in conflict with fundamental liberal values. The compatibility of a politics of virtue and

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liberal values is not unconditional, however. A liberal-democratic setting imposes a number of constraints on the pursuit of virtue. In relation to the idea of individuality I noted two things. First, coercive or violent means are incompatible with the idea of making individuals virtuous. A person is not more virtuous, from a liberal perspective, when she is threatened into behaving virtuously. Second, the moralistic aims need always to be balanced and traded off against the prerequisites for securing individuality. A commitment to individualism does not, consequently, exclude moralistic policies. However, a commitment to individualism will moderate and constrain the ambitions of such aims. With regard to the idea of equality I contend that the important issue is to what extent ecological lifestyles include ethical beliefs and not just personal tastes. Equality requires that ecological policies do not depend on mere preferences or tastes. The idea of equality is incompatible with a republic of taste but not with a republic of virtue. The idea of uncertainty, finally, was found to rest on confusion about the relation between doubt and critical thinking. The consequence with regard to a politics of ecological virtue is that the possibility of revising, changing and even abandoning ecological ends must be recognized. A rational attitude to virtue means admitting that what is regarded as true may later be proven to be false. However, this does not mean that what is now believed to be true should not be accepted as such. A critical attitude is not the same as a sceptical attitude. There are constraints on a politics of virtue. Yet these constraints do not amount to the popular idea of neutrality: the values of liberalism do not justify the principle of neutrality in politics. Thus, the idea that a liberal-democratic regime cannot legitimately support ecological virtues rests on misconceptions or on prejudice. The ethos of neutrality simply does not bear scrutiny. This opens the door for a democratic deliberation on ecological virtue. Together citizens may choose to encourage or discourage certain attitudes on the basis of their relation to an idea of the good and sustainable society. As the demands of an ecological lifestyle may seem austere it is only to be expected that such policies will spark renewed and intensified discussion about the proper way to live in a modern world. Increasing emphasis on sustainability may thus, as a by-product, revitalize democratic institutions and values by inducing increased citizen deliberation.3 The need to decide and discuss collectively is likely to be more apparent once the stakes are increased. The virtuous republic should not be dogmatic; it should

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welcome critical discussion and ideological change. As a consequence, the virtuous republic may in the end turn out to be more democratic too.

Notes 1. That Rawls changed his mind on how to perceive ideals and beliefs has been noted by Brian Barry (1989a, pp. 31–4). 2. Cf. Popper’s characterization of a person with a ‘critical attitude’ as a person that is prepared to ‘modify its tenets’ and who ‘admits doubt’. Popper thus distinguishes between revisability and doubt although it appears as if he includes both in his idea of what it means to be critical (Popper, 1965, p. 49). 3. The conclusions here concur in important respects with Bowring’s, namely that virtues can only be legitimately pursued by the state when ‘members of such communities [can] see their social conduct and its results as deriving from their own free will, as something they can assume responsibility for and call their own’ (Bowring, 1997, p. 94). The connections between policies of sustainability and increasing democratic deliberation are further emphasized by contributors to Doherty and de Geus (1996).

12 Sustainability and the Limits of Liberalism Marcel Wissenburg

Introduction Whatever liberalism is taken to mean, it has a bad name when it comes to matters of ecology and the environment. Liberalism values individual freedom, particularly freedom of thought and religion, freedom of lifestyle, the freedom to live the life of one’s own choosing. Care for the environment is usually seen as interfering in the genesis of individual preferences, which seems taboo for liberalism – their development is a purely private affair. At the level of state and market, a critic might say, liberalism is about satisfying (strictly human) preferences rather than educating people; it thus allows and to a degree even encourages the satisfaction of environmentally harmful preferences. For some Americans, liberalism is a meddlesome ideology, hand in glove with government inefficiency and ineffectiveness. For most Europeans, liberalism is identified with a laissez-faire state and the free market, the latter being held responsible for the exploitation of nature. Philosophical liberalism, in European eyes often including libertarianism, is seen as the conscience of economic and political liberalism and is as such guilty by association. In this chapter I shall argue, against these all too easy judgements, that there are ways in which existing mainstream liberal political philosophy is or can be enriched with the kind of premises that allow it to sensibly discuss environmental issues and translate environmental concerns into political principles. Since liberalism is ultimately about taking one’s individual responsibility seriously, this implies that it can also prescribe individual ‘ecoduties’. In fact, I shall argue that philosophical liberalism is already an ecology-conscious and environmentally friendly theory, so to speak, ‘by nature’ – it is just that most of its past 192

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interpreters failed to realize liberalism’s green potential, or had no reason to do so. What I shall not say is that liberalism’s bad name in green circles is undeserved, that it is all an unfortunate misunderstanding or that the environmental dimension of liberalism fits in easily with the rest of the theory. We should, after all, not confuse ‘is’ and ‘ought’, or ‘is’ and ‘might have been’. I shall first discuss in the next section two ways of protecting the environment as an object of liberal concern by improving the democratic element in liberal thought and by revising the so-called Lockean provisos used to justify private property. In the third section, the focus changes to ways in which the liberal concern extends to include new subjects: animals or nature as a whole, and future generations. This is followed by arguments for considering environmental care to be based on duties, or mutual individual obligations, first as an aim of liberal justice and as a side-constraint in the form of a savings principle in the fourth section and then, in the fifth section, my own invention, as an environmental side-constraint on the attribution of rights in society via the restraint principle. Although these seven green ‘amendments’ to liberalism represent the most important recent developments in liberal political philosophy, I do not pretend that this list is complete. It is a representative selection of arguments based on obligations and duties, not of other sources of green ‘preferences’. Several contributors to this book, for instance, discuss a number of other ways of greening liberalism: Hayward who considers constitutional protection, Attfield who deals with individual preferences, considered and other, and Oksanen who considers the effects of privatizing nature. Green consumerism, green production (Anderson and Leal, 1991), eco-taxes and ecological modernization (Weale, 1992) will also be disregarded. Nor will any of the amendments proposed in this chapter ensure that real-world liberalism, liberaldemocratic society, becomes green. Greening philosophical liberalism is a necessary but not a sufficient condition for a greener world. The points I want to make are these: there can be such a thing as green liberalism (cf. Wissenburg, 1998); it can be based on moral duties rather than sheer preferences; and the appeal to duty and individual responsibility even seems the most promising way of greening liberalism.

Preferences and liberalism Liberalism, some critics say, would care less about educating than about satisfying preferences and promoting economic growth (e.g.

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Opschoor, 1994; Achterhuis, 1994). It is important to note that we are dealing with a two-headed monster here: a critique of liberal democracy and one of economic liberalism. The two are not Siamese twins. Capitalism is not a necessary condition for the existence of the political structure and liberties associated with liberal democracy (cf. Lauber, 1978); the free market existed before liberal democracy evolved. Nor is political liberalism predestined to take a laissez-faire attitude towards the market (cf. Stephens, 1996), or to hold that life is all about making profits or the satisfaction of material self-interest. It sees trade and commerce as one way of life, one means to the realization of a plan of life, among others (cf. Holmes, 1993, p. 212). The critique of economic liberalism must therefore be judged on its own merits and cannot reflect on political liberalism. There is no such thing as a society without a free market; even in the direst of times and under the most oppressive political systems, something called ‘the black market’ operates – and operates on the same principles as the free market: demand and supply. If ‘the’ free market is to be blamed for environmental problems, it cannot be blamed because of its being a free market; it is because there are consumers and producers who are looking for a market. The free market is only instrumental in satisfying environmentally harmful preferences; it is in the preferences that the problem originates. At this point, we encounter the first and weakest of our seven revisionist proposals. In recent years, a number of political theorists have argued for more and better democracy, both in politics and in other social spheres (e.g. the economy). Inspired by classic Republican thinkers, they argue that deliberation, public debate and discussion can change preferences and can change them for the (environmentally) better (cf. several contributions to, for example, Doherty and de Geus, 1996; cf. also Beckman in this volume). The opposite, however, cannot be excluded: democracy as a decision-making process is and remains a process that selects the most favoured, not necessarily the morally or environmentally best, solution. Developing or expanding the democratic aspect of liberalism, both in politics and in other social spheres, including those where consumers’ preferences are conceived, does not therefore make liberalism necessarily green; like economic liberalism, it remains preference-neutral. A more promising way of defending philosophical liberalism against the charge that its attempted preference-neutrality prevents it from being or becoming green is to focus on interpretations of liberal democracy as a system that seeks to protect typically ‘liberal’ values of

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which democracy is only one – and one that can be overruled or outweighed by a higher value where they seem to conflict. One of these values which might be, and on libertarian views usually is, prior to democracy is the institution of private property. It has been argued that private ownership of natural resources can contribute to environmental sustainability (see Dobson, 1998; see also Oksanen’s contribution to this volume). One line of thought on this focuses on John Locke’s classic defence of the legitimacy of property. Building forth on medieval (mainly Thomistic) arguments, Locke argued that one cannot just grab any previously unowned good from nature and use it at will. The act of grabbing (‘original acquisition’) is justified only if ‘enough and as good’ is left for others and if whatever is taken from nature is used for basic needs, subsistence or the greater good of the community, but never when it is taken to stock and rot (Locke, 1965). In a finite world, the ‘enough and as good’ proviso poses severe limits to the exploitation of nature, according to some even too severe. Hence, Robert Nozick (1974), for instance, amended Locke’s proviso: rather than demanding that enough and as good be left, we should allow original acquisition as long as others can be adequately compensated for being excluded from some resource X. Unfortunately, the Lockean road to environmental sustainability is insecure. One objection to Nozick’s and similar amendments is that it begs the question of what exactly could count as adequate compensation, since some goods may be unsubstitutable (Dobson, 1998). Additionally, no amendment to Locke’s conditions can protect natural resources against ‘pure’ waste: waste is only waste if people appreciate a resource and would prefer it not to be wasted. If no one but i is interested in X, i can take as much of X as he or she wants – neither proviso applies here.

Nature as a subject of justice The idea that private property is an inviolable pre-social right is not widely shared; most modern liberals like Rawls, Barry and Ackerman defend private property as a social convention. Their primary interest lies in establishing how any distribution of goods, opportunities, liberties and rights (including that to private property) can be defended. On this perspective, democracy and social convention can only be overruled by (whatever follows from) the categorical liberal imperative of impartiality with regard to the plans of life of individuals. Among the many possible ways in which authors have tried to adapt these mainstream theories of distributive justice to the green agenda (most

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recently Rowlands, 1998), two deserve special mention: the inclusion of parts of nature and of future generations as subjects of justice who have, up to now, been unjustly excluded from the community of justice (for more detailed discussions see Wissenburg, 1998, 1999). Even if they only aim to include animals, the problem with proposals of this kind – usually presented in the format of a contract theory – is that part of the support for any impartial theory of justice must stem from the real-life reader; he or she must be convinced that impartiality obliges one to see animals as contracting partners. Yet it is highly questionable whether we can identify in this sense with a contract situation where we would have to put ourselves (or our impartial representatives) in the position of, say, the common house fly, and it is probably impossible to imagine an animal in our own position (cf. Wissenburg, 1993). What is even more troubling is that a construction of this sort seems to presuppose the conclusion, namely that animals have an interest in human justice. It may go too far to demand that to apply the term ‘justice’ to a human’s relation with another creature, the latter must stand in a reciprocal relation to others, as Brian Barry (1989b) once argued, or that it can communicate, as Bruce Ackerman (1980) suggested. It does not seem to be a necessary condition; we do not demand it of comatose humans either. Yet as long as humans can argue for the existence of relevant differences between themselves and animals, the status of animals as subjects cannot a priori be taken as part of our considered judgements. Introducing future generations of humans in a contract setting or in any other way as subjects of justice seems less problematical at first sight. At least humans are humans: we do not have to imagine them or ourselves as basically alien beings. Yet the fact that future individuals by definition do not exist (yet) creates some mind-boggling problems. For one, future generations do not need to exist; we can choose not to procreate any further. In this respect one could argue that future individuals and the interests they might have are the creation of present generations, hence in fact interests of present generations – making the introduction of future generations in a contract setting redundant. Even assuming that future generations should be allowed to represent their own interests, and assuming that I am responsible for your offspring, it is not clear what exactly future generations can claim from us, that is what exact obligations we have towards them and which interests they may legitimately voice. It makes a difference for our obligations and for our choice of principles of justice whether we do or do not owe them more, rather than that we do not make their lives

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unbearable (cf. Narveson, 1973). Again, we cannot presume conclusions that may not be part of our considered judgements. Further objections to ‘over-inclusion’, which I can only mention in passing here, are that we simply would not know how many of future humans there will or should be, nor to which degree we can be held accountable for the welfare of our most distant descendants, nor where their interests lie. Since their interests and plans are the product of a dialectic between the self and its environment, one might even argue that there is no sense in talking about the plans of life of future individuals. As long as neither they nor their environment exist, there simply are no plans of life.

Mutual obligations If making future humans and non-humans subjects of justice seems a risky route to take, two alternatives are left. One is to argue that we have obligations to our direct descendants and that we can even hazard to guess where these obligations lie. Another is the more direct approach: the claim that impartial decision-makers would opt for an environmentally sustainable society, regardless of whom they represent. It is the latter alternative in which Brian Barry (Barry, 1995) believes: in his view, the discovery that people actually do have (various and diverging) interests in (various and diverging interpretations of) a clean and healthy environment obliges us to take environmental interests into account. However, this solution lacks a reflective moment. If the current plans of life of currently existing people determine the outcome of the contract, and if the current shape of society influences these plans, then it is the shape of society – culture and structure – that dictates limits to the possible outcome of negotiations. The degree of greenness of such a society thus depends at least on existing preferences, at worst on the existing structure of society, but certainly not on what reasonable individuals freed from the bonds and prejudices of their specific society would presume that a just society should look like. Hence, we are thrown back at the idea that we have ecological obligations to currently existing younger generations. The perhaps easiest method of greening liberalism follows this line of thought and builds forth on an idea introduced by John Rawls (1971): that we have an obligation to ‘save’ on behalf of future generations. On this new interpretation (Rawls, 1993), which is originally David Gauthier’s (1986), future generations can be introduced without making them subjects or including them in contractual negotiations, thus avoiding many of the

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problems discussed above. Rawls now states that contracting parties in the original position (Rawls’s version of a state of nature) will ‘agree to a savings principle subject to the further condition that they must want all previous generations to have followed it’ (Rawls, 1993, p. 274). Rawls makes one important improvement on the orthodox understanding of justice between generations: they exist next to each other, not one after the other: ‘society is a system of co-operation between generations over time’ (Rawls, 1993, p. 274). It is this fact that makes an intergenerational savings principle mutually beneficial: regardless of whether one has or wants or likes children, the savings principle guarantees that no generation is made worse off relative to any previous generation, that is, relative to the circumstances in which each generation lives. It would be irrational to reject it, and thereby step out of society and lose the advantages of intergenerational cooperation. Moreover, defection destroys the basis of trust on which society is built. Others can perhaps go on as before in their cooperative venture, but they will have learned that no one can be trusted – a lesson that cannot be too healthy for the survival of society. Note that the possible existence of as yet non-existent future generations is irrelevant to the Rawlsian argument. There is no way to protect them directly against ‘thieves’ – stealing from them is easier than stealing candy from a baby. Instead, they are protected indirectly at any given moment by a principle that means to protect the interests of existing generations. The beauty of this new interpretation of the savings principle is its simplicity: it is a simple combination of rationality and mutual advantage. This is not to say that there are no problems. For one (for others see Wissenburg, 1998), every change in the structure of a society, every move towards a more just society, is made by a first generation that will (ideally) judge its own performance in relation to what people in the original position would decide. If the latter cannot represent a situation which the former experience on a regular basis, a choice situation that will influence their well-being – then there may well be something wrong with the design of the original position.

The restraint principle The last path to a greener liberalism which I want to discuss in this chapter again makes use of the concepts of duties and rights. However, it does not refer to any substantial rights that subjects of justice might

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have or any obligations we have: it requires a purely formal conception of rights. At the basis of this greening strategy lies the observation that the effects of principles of justice, or more generally the effects of implementing liberal key values, can always in some way be represented as permissions and negations of permissions. In their most simple form, these permissions apply to one individual only, at one place and one moment in time, for one ‘basic act’, one distinct action (for more details see Wissenburg, 1998). On the basis of these ‘molecules’, formal rights can be designed: molecular rights referring to one person (me), one basic act (cutting down a tree to warm my house), one point in time and space alone (here and now), as well as complex rights to series of basic acts, wider areas or longer periods. And of course these rights can be of several types: permissions to do x, permissions to do not-x, liberties to choose to do x or not-x, duties to do x and not do not-x, and so on. Formal rights are compossible (cf. Steiner, 1994): no single molecular right can be assigned twice, hence no complex right can ever contradict another. Ideally, moral systems and legal codes meet this condition – though of course nobody is perfect, including the legislator. Apart from more general advantages (Wissenburg, 1998, 1999), formal rights allow us to indicate first that, and secondly where, rights are limited as a matter of principle. To start with the first bit: rights in the everyday sense of the word can be limited, given certain assumptions. First, rights, even ‘natural’ or ‘divine’ rights, do not fall from the skies. They have to be recognized, and recognition is the prerogative of human beings. Only those who can follow a law can give it, only those who can be moral can design criteria of morality. Next, we need to assume that there is always a material aspect to rights, so that rights become rights to goods, to material things. Without stone, we cannot create a sculpture; without a tongue, we cannot speak; without the right to use one’s brain, even the right to freedom of thought becomes void. Now goods can be individuated: they can be the subject of individual (or group or collective) rights. They can be acquired, sold, granted and taken away. There are very few physical objections to the acquisition or transfer of rights: I can take an apple from a tree as easily as I can give it to you, and I can give you the apple almost as easily as my labour, my thoughts or an arm. In short, ownership rights are physically alienable, and that raises the question of the moral justification for each particular right. We have, for instance, no reason to believe that

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there can be ownership rights to everything, nor, more importantly, that an ownership right to x implies that one can do everything one likes with x, i.e. that ownership is an unconditional right, one with which no one may interfere: absolute sovereignty. Since rights need to be recognized, claims to rights have to be defended. Many rights thus become conditional: no matter how scarce or abundant they may be, as long as they are alienable, claims to them can be compared, evaluated and ordered. Even in the absence of competing claims a claim need not become a right: that only one person applies for, say, a subsidy is not enough reason to give it; we also need a positive reason to recognize her claim as valid. Hence, arguments determine whether a particular attribution of rights is justified. Principles for the attribution of rights can be of two kinds: one determines what is to be distributed, the other how. The first puts sideconstraints on distribution, the second defines allocation aims. The latter are the kind of principles to which liberal theorists refer as ‘principles of justice’ in a strict sense. Both can offer ways towards an environmentally sane society. On the one hand, green interests can perhaps be satisfied more by one scheme for the allocation of resources than another, and liberalism may support such a scheme, but there is no reason to assume beforehand that either thesis is true. On the other hand, there can be side-constraints to the distribution of rights to natural resources that ensure, say, sustainability regardless of the way in which resources will be allocated, so that we can worry a little less about the environmental effects of liberal principles of justice. It is the latter type of principle that generates what I have called the restraint principle, a principle that demands that conditional rights to (in a physical sense) scarce goods be distributed in such a way that they remain, within the limits of necessity, available for redistribution. This is done by excluding from any (individual’s or collective’s) set of rights to a good x, at least in principle, the right to destroy x: No goods shall be destroyed unless unavoidable and unless they are replaced by perfectly identical goods; if that is physically impossible, they should be replaced by equivalent goods resembling the original as closely as possible; and if that is also impossible, a proper compensation should be provided. Where does this principle come from? The attribution of rights is a matter of arguments. Because liberals have no yardstick for the ultimate truth or validity of principles, they have to accept, firstly, that

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any conditional right (any good) that can physically be withdrawn (alienated) can also be withdrawn morally should a stronger argument come along, and secondly, that a right to x is not a right to x-plus – a right to pluck apples is not a right to cut down trees. The recognition of (formal) rights to each separate basic act (see above) requires, in principle, a separate argument. It is simply not true that an argument p that would convince us that I should have the freedom to type or not type ‘e’ next will convince us that I therefore also deserve the right to vote. An argument p may support rights to more than one basic act, but p does not support my right to do x2 merely because it supports my right to do x1. By the same token, and other things being equal, a valid argument for picking fruit from trees here and now justifies only those acts that are necessary to that purpose. It is not necessary to cut down the tree to get hold of the fruit, therefore a right to possess or take possession of the fruit does not entitle one to cut down the tree. Arguments in favour of a specific set of complex rights can only bring one so far and no further. If an ownership right to x does not imply that one can do everything one likes with x, it becomes possible to say that there are specific molecular rights to x that simply cannot be granted. As a matter of fact, a case can be made for the thesis that there is at least one such right that can never be granted: the right to destroy the object of x, thus turning ownership rights into rights to use rather than (absolutely) possess x. Conditional ownership depends on reasons, but reasons are as fallible as those who articulate them. The soundness of reasons may change over time or depending on the information we have. Others may turn out to have better claims to goods than I have – they merely have not yet made those claims, have not been able to do so or have not been heard. They may even be unaware of their own good reasons, as it takes time to grow up and develop or discover one’s plan of life. A first-come or finders-keepers principle is not a warrant for justice – my claim may be prior in time without being prior in terms of urgency or need. In sum: whenever there is a choice between on the one hand destroying a good, depriving others of options, limiting their freedom and thus harming them, or on the other merely using it without limiting other people’s options, we have a duty to chose the latter. In theory then, no argument can justify that we destroy anything that could be used by anyone else for a better reason. Theory is often an impractical thing. Following a general duty not to destroy anything means starving or thirsting or freezing to death – whichever comes first. No environmentalist who values the lives of subjects (humans or

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other) and no liberal who values the liberty of life could ever accept this. Hence, both will agree that this duty to restraint can be overruled by necessity, i.e. by the quest for survival or, in liberal terms, by the quest for a life worth living. Although necessity overrules the duty to restraint, it does not annul the rights and claims of others. In general, your valid claim to x does not make it a duty for us to make an alternative for x available to you, yet it does not prohibit it either. If x is vital to my survival or to my liberty of life, it can also be vital for you. There may be reasons why my survival is less important than yours. Which reasons exactly are not important here: they could be that ‘you’ are a whole people and that I am a mouse or that I love you and we both value your life more than mine. The point is that your claim to x can be stronger than mine, only your claim has not been recognized for the same reasons that supported the duty to restraint. In circumstances like these, the freedom to replace x turns into a duty to replace – with the same proviso: unless necessity prohibits it. The demand that nothing be destroyed ‘unless necessary’ forms a weak spot in the restraint principle. Its ‘greening’ potential depends on where exactly a specific theory of justice draws the border between necessity and indulgence – or rather, since few liberals have touched on this question, where it should be drawn. One part of this problem is to decide if it makes sense at all to distinguish between what I call basic needs and further wants (cf. Wissenburg, 1999); some liberals, after all, do not: they never question the moral equivalence of preferences. This may well be the simpler problem. We do make distinctions like this in everyday life, and there may be ways to justify it, using the idea that some but not all goods, acts, rights, etc. are necessary conditions for a tolerable life and necessary but not sufficient preconditions for a morally good, rewarding or full life (cf. Barry’s (1995) conception of crucial goods). Even the terms need and want are not sacred: a similar distinction can be made in terms like use and abuse or (perhaps more to the green taste) symbiotic and parasitic (cf. Barry, 1999a). Philosophically slightly less interesting yet practically far more disturbing is the second question: if it makes sense to distinguish between need and want, where should we draw the border? The fact that defining such a criterion is difficult cannot count against the validity of the distinction between needs and wants or the symbiotic and parasitic itself, but it does imply that a prima facie limitation of the right to exploit and destroy nature is not yet enough to guarantee that liberal democracy and environmental sustainability are compatible. Given that even liberals who use the concept of preferences as a black box

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make a distinction between the more and less ‘needed’ (preferred) and an implicit distinction between need (preference) and the insignificant, defining a border between need and want is, or must be, essential for all liberal theories.

Conclusion In the previous sections, I have tried to describe ways in which liberal philosophy can and actually does try to make room for the environment. None of these solutions was perfect, all typically require ‘further research’, yet two interesting conclusions can be drawn. First, some of the proposals discussed can be combined to generate theoretically broader versions of green liberalism. This appears to be true, in particular, for the restraint principle. Note, for example, that the restraint principle protects more than humans only: it also incorporates non-human nature. Let us assume for a moment that animals are not subjects but mere objects, livestock. Now even a merely instrumentally valuable object can be irreplaceable. The restraint principle demands that, unless there is no way to avoid it, no rock, animal or plant should be destroyed, no species made extinct. There can hardly be more protection for ‘natural objects’ like animals. It also demands that if this is impossible, the most similar possible alternative should be made available: nature should be replaced by nature, not by concrete. Like the precautionary principle, it puts the onus of proof for the legitimacy of environmentally harmful acts on the bad guys. At this point, it can link up with green debates on animal rights, on the intrinsic value of nature and on the substitutability of natural capital, as well as strengthen attempts to introduce animals and other parts of nature in liberal theories as morally relevant entities. The restraint principle can, furthermore, be incorporated in, or incorporate, an amended Lockean view on the legitimacy of property – and it can be combined with contractarian theories of justice. Being a logical implication of a formal understanding of rights, it would be rational for impartial contracting parties to accept it. It also offers a second elegant solution to a problem discussed in both liberal and green theory: that of justice between generations, particularly between existing and therefore morally relevant generations and non-existing and not necessarily relevant generations. It protects the interests of future generations implicitly by protecting those of present generations. In short: a combination of the arguments discussed here can mend some of the shortcomings of each of the arguments separately: the

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need to refer to absurd premises in order to reach desirable conclusions with regard to the protection of animals and the environment; the need to rely on the preferences of current individuals only; the dangers involved in a conservative attitude towards present institutions. The second conclusion to be drawn is that, regardless of current political practices, liberalism as a political theory is not incompatible with green intentions and theories. At the very least, it is not a necessary or sufficient precondition of an unsustainable society – perhaps (see the Conclusion of this book) it is even more. Although it can never support one and only one theory of the good as the exclusive way to ecological salvation, its core values offer enough room for green rules and duties to take liberalism seriously as an environment in which notions of sustainability are likely to flourish. Whether they do depends not in the first instance on institutions but on individuals and their appreciation of the environment. Perhaps, then, critics of the past have misconstrued the problem: perhaps it is not so much a question of squaring liberalism with sustainability, but of discovering where liberals can find the moral courage to become greener liberals.

13 Conclusion John Barry, Marcel Wissenburg and Marius de Geus

The perspective In the introduction to this volume, the editors argued that mainstream political theorists and philosophers had only just begun to recognize sustainability as a subject of debate. Up to now, most contributions to the debate originated in the circles of environmentalists or from the dialogue between environmentalists and green progressive thinkers. They generally assume consensus on the normative aspects of sustainability as well as the desirability of consensus. Contributions to the debate on sustainability from more traditional philosophical points of view are to a great extent lacking, though there is some evidence of this changing (O’Neill, 1996; Giddens, 1994; Taylor, 1989; Wissenburg, 1998). In this volume, the assumption of a fundamental consensus on the normative implications of the concept of sustainability was challenged right from the start. The general focus was on the question whether liberal democracy, in particular in its liberal aspects, can tackle ecological problems. Starting from this angle, the pioneering question brought before the contributors was not to ask how society should be adapted to sustainability, but how the concept of sustainability could be interpreted in ways that respect liberal democratic values and institutions. Note that this approach does not rule out ways in which the greening of liberalism may require changes within liberal democratic theory and practice. In this concluding chapter the results of the investigation will be surveyed: is liberal theory flexible enough to support sustainability? To what extent can liberal democratic institutions constitute a basis for solving environmental issues? In what ways, if any, is the liberal appreciation of nature compatible with a viable environment? And finally, which problems remained unsolved, and which new ones emerged? 205

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In the opening chapter, we encountered the clearly most critical and pessimistic view on the practice and theory of liberalism. The argument Marius de Geus offered there was that mainstream liberal theory – because of its ‘Lockean, nature-dominating and growth-oriented heritage’ – had in the past shown relatively little interest in questions of sustainability. Liberal democratic institutions turn out or have turned out to be not particularly well equipped to defend ecological interests. The liberal emphasis on individualism, finally, in the past hindered and in the future might endanger the quest for a clean environment and nature conservation. Interpreting the message with a degree of optimism, one could say that this book opened with an invitation to mainstream political theorists and philosophers to rethink liberalism and make existing liberal theories compatible with attention for nature and sustainability. Most of the other contributors have taken up this challenge and have come up with reasons why and degrees to which liberalism can be reformed to meet environmental demands. From an overview of the chapters, a promising new vision on liberalism is emerging, characterized by interesting theoretical developments and innovative ideas. It may be true that real existing liberal parties and liberal democratic states have a somewhat dubious record with regard to environmental issues, and that liberal political theory until recently mostly ignored the environmental question, but the times are definitely changing. Out of the many reasons discussed in preceding chapters for hopes that liberalism can be ‘greened’, we mention seven that seem most promising.

Reasons to be hopeful Several contributors to this book have pointed out that Locke’s is not the only tradition or school in liberalism. John Barry and Marius de Geus, for instance, discussed the green potential in John Stuart Mill’s thought in particular, and the ‘social liberal’ tradition in general; others pointed to modern theorists like Rawls, Barry, even Rorty. As an economic theory, Nicos Labaras subsequently argued, liberalism could offer no less than four alternatives to full-blown laissez-faire capitalism: free market environmentalism, the constant capital approach, ecological economics and ecological modernization (also discussed in Barry’s contribution). Although not equally successful, their existence shows that liberal economists can and increasingly do take issues like ecology and sustainability seriously. However, others, such as Barry, Hayward and Achterberg, suggest that a central part of the

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‘greening’ of liberalism requires a more fundamental separation of liberal political economy (unregulated neoliberal capitalism and economic globalization) and the political institutions and practices of liberal democracy. A third area in which liberalism proves to possess an unexpected degree of flexibility is that of democracy. As one of liberalism’s key values, expressing its anti-authoritarianism and moral scepticism, democracy can take the shape of deliberative democracy (Achterberg and Hayward). The latter offers room for public debate, for questioning the sensibility of individual preferences, and thereby for the genesis of more socially (and environmentally) benign considered opinions. The central importance of democracy to the transition to a more sustainable society lies not only in its intrinsic value. It is also important that democracy, debate, argument and a plurality of views and hypotheses together form the most appropriate collective decision-making procedure under conditions of complexity, disagreement and uncertainty, all of which characterize sustainability issues to a greater or lesser extent. Liberalism has often made use of the concept of rights in defending a private sphere where individuals are free to do as they like. It now turns out – a fourth reason to be hopeful – that rights can also be used to protect the environment, both directly and indirectly, in forms as diverse as (intellectual) property rights, rights to physical and mental security, rights to representation and political participation, and so forth. We must also recall that the discourse of animal rights, for example, owes much to liberalism: the liberal theorist Jeremy Bentham’s utilitarian extension of moral considerability to sentient animals was the first articulation of the animal rights movement. At the same time, as Mills and Beckman suggest, the liberal stress on rights needs to be supplemented with a concern with duties and virtues. This integration of duties and rights is not in principle incompatible with a reformed liberalism. Indeed, as Barry points out, a concern with citizen duties can be read into some interpretations of ecological modernization. It does, however, suggest that a liberalism equal to the challenges of ecological sustainability moves in the direction of the Millian social liberal or welfare tradition rather than the Lockean or libertarian one. Fifthly, even though (as Gayil Talshir argued convincingly) there is reason to believe that green demands do not fit the format of legitimate demands for social justice, modern liberal theories of social justice can still indirectly accommodate many of these demands. One way of doing so is by expanding the so-called circle of moral concern, the domain of those protected by just institutions, to future generations or

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even animals. Also, rights maxims like John Rawls’s savings principle or Marcel Wissenburg’s restraint principle take nature and environment more as objects of distributive justice than as, for example, intrinsically valuable objects of concern, yet they work out at least in the same direction (that is, towards sustainability). Equally, as Tim Hayward points out, there is the possibility of using constitutional means and provisions to extend human rights in an environmental direction, as well as perhaps providing protection for non-humans and establishing the cooperative framework for intra- and international environmental agreement and action. Next, on everyday conceptions, liberalism is more about giving licence and barring others for intruding upon people’s private sphere, and less about duties, obligations and responsibility. In liberal theory, things are different and room does exist for the concept of duty. One person’s right, for instance, can imply obligations and duties for others: obligations not to obstruct, duties to prevent others from obstruction, etc. In this way, rights to natural resources can be limited in the interests of the liberty of others, and as Mills suggests a more duties-based liberalism is not inconceivable. Moreover, as Barry points out, the long-established liberal ‘harm principle’ can be ecologized by being interpreted in terms of the precautionary principle. This once again leads us in the direction of a more ecologically sensitive and in Achterberg’s view a more ‘self-reflexive’ form of liberal democracy. An important aspect of this is a move towards more open, deliberative forms of democratic decision-making in general, and the extension of democratic accountability to ‘hidden’ political and productive spheres which have a direct or indirect effect on the environment and human well-being, such as technological development and innovation. Finally, with its insistence on the ideal of a flourishing individual, personally responsible for training the appropriate capacities, even the concept of virtue seems to have a niche cut out for it within at least some versions of liberalism, such as those versions within the Millian tradition, recent examples of which include the work of Stephen Macedo (1990) and William Galston (1991). This in turn opens the way towards the inclusion of green or environmentally benign virtues. Equally, the emphasis on ‘flourishing’ implies that the liberal concern with the individual does not necessarily reduce to individual consumption and a pure materialist view of the ‘good’ for liberal individuals, which is and has been a common critique of liberalism. Imperfect as these proposals may be, there is even more hope in combining them, and thereby mending some of the shortcomings of

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each separately. One example could be the use of duties to counterbalance possible repercussions of rights-based green amendments to liberalism. Another possible option is using deliberative democracy to counterbalance economic liberalism (or to explore the contours of a post-capitalist or post-growth liberalism). An equally interesting path to explore is that of expanding the circle of moral concern in justice theories to compensate for approaches that rely on the preferences of currently existing humans only.

Reasons to remain cautious As always in theoretical ventures, we found no final answers. There are problems which remained unsolved in this book and require further research – we mention seven again here.1 Despite the optimism just expressed, the question whether there can be a liberal theory of virtue remains open to debate. Particularly, modern liberalism is, after all, committed to public (political) impartiality regarding private theories of the good. One might argue that it loses its impartiality when trying to promote, in any way, one particular view of the good like virtue ethics. Yet, the virtues which enhance sustainability need not be directly tied to any putative ‘green’ (or other) view of the good. Alternatively, sustainability could be cast in terms of a ‘common good’ or ‘generalizable interest’, as most environmentalists and others view it. This could create room for manoeuvre in liberal democracy to present the achievement of sustainability as an issue of the ‘right’, e.g. in the form of justice to future generations or global distributive justice, or as an issue of the ‘good’, thus establishing some prescriptive vision of the ‘sustainable society’. This immediately brings up another problem: whether liberalism can give any positive reason at all for individuals to care about the environment, and for making liberal institutions care for nature. No matter how broadly defined, human preferences or interests do not necessarily and do not always include a flourishing nature. As Hayward points out, there is a need for liberal democratic institutions, processes and policies that favour the articulation of the most enlightened interests of the day, transforming economic development to take account of the quality of life for all. It is hard to deny that only if ecological goods are linked to human interests will they be promoted at all. While it goes without saying that human flourishing requires a sustainable ecological basis, this does not mean that this leads to the extensive environmental protection envisaged by many environmentalists. To say, as

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many radical deep ecologists seem to, that the only ‘worthwhile’ human life is one which has extensive wilderness, biodiversity and a general ‘hands-off’ approach to nature is a position liberalism does and should reject. Moreover, one of the key elements in many strands of ecologism, i.e. green political theory, is the intrinsic value of nature. If liberalism, with its focus on the values adhered to by individuals, cannot accommodate this concept, a debate and exchange of ideas with ecologists will remain what it is up to today: difficult but not impossible. Indeed, one could say that recent developments in green political theory (partly as a result of the engagement with liberal political theory) have demonstrated that it is possible to establish a normative green politics that does not necessarily rely on the intrinsic value of nature or ecocentrism for its philosophical base (Norton, 1991; Hayward, 1998; Barry, 1999a). On a more mundane level, liberalism always presumes the legitimacy and existence of private property rights, which includes an owner’s right to do with one’s property as one sees fit. The question then arises how this element of liberalism in particular, property rights, being exercised on the basis of one individual’s appreciation of nature, can be squared with an (economic, aesthetic or intrinsic) value ascribed to nature by others. As Wissenburg points out, a ‘restrained’ or bounded view of private property is perfectly in keeping with the liberty-sustaining principles of liberalism. Barry and Oksanen suggest, in addition, that forms of communal ownership and stewardship views of private property in natural resources are also compatible with liberalism, and may be required for sustainability. Next, introducing ‘green’ side-constraints on human behaviour in a liberal framework seems in general to be at odds with liberalism’s commitment to impartiality. In one respect, it reflects the eternal struggle of liberal theorists to square collective arrangements (necessary and agreed coercion) with individual liberty. In another, there is something paradoxical about a theory that will not prescribe any particular morality to individuals, be it green or other – yet that seems to allow for the translation of sustainability, a rather substantive moral idea, into public policy and institutions. It has to be remembered, as various contributions to this volume suggest, that the ostensibly ‘private’ aspects of sustainability have to do largely with economic actors such as large corporations, rather than with individual liberty and autonomy per se, though the difficult issue of population regulation remains. Even if all were well with liberal theory, an additional problem for a greener liberalism is the ill fit between theory and practice. As

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experience with liberal theories of justice shows, political parties and real-world institutions are all but reluctant to trade in their official ideology for the representation of the powers that be, i.e. ‘hard’ (largely corporate) economic interests which are largely ignorant, indifferent or actively opposed to sustainability. De Geus’s comments to this effect remained unopposed and for the greater part unsolved in this book. Finally, this in turn leads to another classic question: can the state be neutral at all, or at least neutral enough to offer room to other interests than those of the powerful? This is of particular importance given the current rate and pattern of economic globalization, which is often viewed by states as something of a ‘force of nature’, something exogenously ‘given’ and therefore beyond their capacity to influence or change. A greener liberalism, again in keeping with its social liberal, democratic and welfare character, would seem to require a renewed sense of the ability and legitimacy of the liberal state to take a more proactive stance in shaping and perhaps challenging economic globalization. This would not only serve our interest in ecological sustainability, but also comply with democratic norms themselves and other liberal principles of human rights and duties, global justice and human and perhaps non-human well-being.

On balance The problems just raised are not easy to solve. Yet the main conclusion to be drawn is that philosophical liberalism need not, and therefore political liberalism should not, be opposed to green intentions and theories. It would take more than the pages of this book to argue that liberalism is a necessary condition for a sustainable or green society, though there are reasons to assume that it is. From an ecologist’s point of view, for instance, liberalism allows a reflection of biodiversity in a diversity of lifestyles (possibly with similar evolutionary advantages). It allows, although it does not necessarily imply, the efficient gathering of reliable information on individual desires and plans. Liberalism is a good environment for a free and open debate on goals in life, on policies, on theories of the good. It offers structures that have proven able to generate deeper and broader legitimacy than other systems. The evidence presented at least suffices to support the claim that liberalism is neither a sufficient nor a necessary condition for an unsustainable society. Liberalism is not totally preference-neutral: in whatever version, it is biased in favour of certain, liberal values, values that, as we saw, offer ample opportunity for the introduction of green

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ideas, and thereby green institutions and duties. The one thing liberalism cannot do is prescribe one unique society as ideal and ideally sustainable. In this sense, and as said earlier in the Introduction, conceptions of sustainability need to (be made to) fit liberalism and not the other way around. Liberalism is and remains a procedural theory, a theory that poses side-constraints on the otherwise unrestrained fulfilment of individual preferences, plans of life and theories of the good. It is only in this way that liberals can conceive of sustainability: not as the sacred supreme goal of existence but as a broad range of permissible worlds among the infinity of possible worlds. That is, sustainability is to be understood not as an imperative (either scientific or ethical) for the creation of a ‘sustainable society’ (a ‘greenprint’ as it were). Rather, much like liberalism itself, sustainability is to be understood procedurally, as a process, albeit with substantive aspects. In this way, a liberal reading of sustainability is a ‘negative’ rather than a prescriptive one, that is sustainability is not about the creation of a sustainable society, but about avoiding unsustainable forms of socio-economic development. This will also make it a central value and principle of the modern (liberal) world (in theory and practice), able to take its place alongside other keystone values and principles such as democracy, community, liberty and social justice. Whether we stay within this range of permissible (liberal) sustainable worlds is not something a moral or political theory can assure, even when corresponding institutions are designed. In the end, it is not the institutions of a society or the duties prescribed by theory that make it viable or unsustainable, but the courage to take one’s individual responsibility seriously.

Note 1. The authors are grateful to Piers Stephens for formulating several of these problems.

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Index Achterberg, W., 114, 206, 207 Achterhuis, H., 194 Ackerman, B., 195, 196 Adams, J., 136 Agenda 21, 176 Aiken, W., 119 Allison, L., 79 Anderson, M., 120, 121 Anderson, T., 72, 81, 83–6, 100, 135, 136, 140, 142, 143, 193 animals, 125, 126, 193, 196, 203 anthropocentrism, 11, 71–2, 74, 154, 170 Aristotle, 143 Ashford, N., 63 associative democracy, 113 Attfield, R., 149, 156, 193 Baker, S., 164 Baland, J.M., 136, 142 Balick, M., 144 Banister, J., 158 Barry, B., 3, 169, 187–9, 191, 195, 196, 197, 202, 206 Barry, J., 13, 59, 61, 62, 69, 180, 202, 206, 207, 208, 210 Beck, U., 6, 63, 64 –5, 68, 71, 101–14, 128 Beckman, L., 194, 207 Beetham, D., 43 Bentham, J., viii, 207 Benton, T., 124, 156 Berkes, F., 143 Berlin, I., 32 Berry, C., 59 Bichsel, A., 121 biodiversity, 10, 11, 135– 48 biotechnology, 138 Bohman, J., 112, 113 Bookchin, M., 19, 27 Bowring, F., 180, 191 Boyle, A., 119 Brazil, 144

Bromley, D., 136, 143 Brubaker, E., 79 Brundtland, G., 2, 4, 20, 155, 179 Busch, L., 136 Callenbach, E., 19, 29 Cameron, J., 121 capitalism, 5, 66–7, 77, 128, 207 carbon emissions, 10, 150 – 4 Cavalieri, P., 125 Cheung, S. N. S., 139 China, 157–8 Christoff, P., 61 citizenship, 65, 97, 172, 180 civic virtue, 11 civil society, 129–30 Coase, R., 84 Cobb, J., 63 coercion, 157–8, 181–2, 190 Coglianese, C., 68–9 Cohen, J., 182 commons regimes, 69 communal ownership, 135 communal property, 136, 141 community of justice, 13 constant capital approach, 86–9, 92, 99, 206 constitutional environmental rights, 117, 118–22, 131–2 constitutions, 8 consumption, 62, 77–8 Convention on Biodiversity, 137, 139 corporations, 2 Costa Rica, 138–9 crisis management, 64, 65 critical natural capital, 70 cultural values, 123, 125 Daly, H., 20, 31, 61, 63, 77 de Geus, M., 4, 27, 29, 59, 134, 191, 194, 206, 211 deliberative democracy, 8, 9, 91, 102, 110, 112–14, 129, 134, 194, 208, 209 225

226 Index democracy, 44, 86, 101–2, 127, 159, 190 –1, 194, 207 Demsetz, H., 139, 141, 142 de-Shalit, A., 45, 59, 66 development, 64 –5, 70 –1, 76 discursive democracy, see deliberative democracy distributive justice, see social justice Dobson, A., 46–8, 61, 178, 195 Doherty, B., 59, 134, 191, 194 Douglas, M., 106 Drahos, P., 137 Dryzek, J., 62, 63, 81, 128, 129, 130 Dworkin, R., 3 duties, 11, 12, 163, 167, 173–8, 193, 204, 207 Dworkin, R., 181–3 Eckersley, R., 1, 21, 29, 59, 86, 121, 128, 133, 134 eco-authoritarians, 76 ecocentrism, 154 ecological crisis, 2, 3, 76 ecological democracy, 8, 9, 102, 111–12, 114, 126–31 ecological economics, 6, 83, 89–92, 206 ecological interests, 21 ecological justice, 5, 55, 114 ecological modernization, 4, 5, 6, 24, 61–6, 77, 92, 93–8, 193, 206 ecological vice, 30 ecological virtues, 13, 180, 183, 188, also see virtue ecologism, 46, 210 ecology, 46–8, 49, 165–7 economic growth, 66, 69, 75, 77, 87, 90, 94, 99, 128, 193 Elster, J., 112–13 enlightened interests, 118, 131, 209 environmental economics, 6 environmental goods, 118, 123 environmental ethics, 40, 154 environmental policy, 61, 94 –6 environmental rights, 168 environmental security, 121, 128 environmental values, 154 environmentalism, vii equality, 14, 184 –7

‘ethic of justice’, 13 ‘ethic of virtue’, 13 Faber, M., 67 Feinberg, J., 177–8, 183 Fowler, C., 136 freedom, see liberty free market, 63, 194 free market environmentalism, 6, 10, 72, 81, 83–6, 92, 99, 140, 206 Freese, C., 136 future generations, viii, 4, 21, 27, 89, 94, 102, 193, 196–7, 203, 207, also see intergenerational justice Gadgil, M., 144 Galbraith, G.K., 22 Glaston, W., 208 Gauthier, D., 197 Gellner, E., 77–8 genetic resources, 10, 143, 145–6 Giddens, A., 44, 205 globalization, 64, 102, 128, 207, 211 Goldblatt, D., 101 Goodin, R., 44, 60 Gowdy, J., 145 Gray, T., 144, 146–7 Greaves, T., 145, 147 green liberalism, 203 green politics, 59 green political theory, 59–60, 210 green social democracy, 62 Grubb, M., 151 Gruenbaum, J., 143 Guha, R., 136, 139, 164 Gummer, J., 151 Haila, Y., 144 Hajer, M., 93 Hanna, S., 135, 142–3 Hardin, G., 10, 42, 139, 142 harm, 11, 67, 74, 123, 154, 183 harm principle, 5, 67–9, 72, 73, 78, 157, 208 Hayward, T., viii, 117, 118, 126, 133, 134, 170, 193, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210 Haywood, A., 43, 45 Hobbes, T., 36

Index Holmes, S., 194 Hubbard, F., 80 Hülsberg, W., 50 human rights, 9, 119–20, 208, 211 Hurrel, A., 42 Huxley, A., 19 immanent critique, 60, 127 indigenous peoples, 144 individualism, 14 Inglehart, R., 37 intellectual property rights, 10, 135–7, 145, 147–8 intergenerational equity, see intergenerational justice intergenerational justice, 4, 8, 20, 26, 27, 80, 83, 87, 90, 92, 94, 99, 109 intragenerational justice, 4, 20, 26, 27, 69 intrinsic value, 1, 2, 40, 44 ‘is–ought’ fallacy, 48, 193 Jacobs, M., 2, 61, 62, 72, 77, 79, 81, 86, 89–91, 100, 129 Jones, P., 186 Jordan, A., 68, 69 Kant, I., vii Kelly, P., 39 Khalil, M., 146 Kingsbury, B., 42 Kolinski, E., 46 Ksentini, F., 120 Kropotkin, P., 29 Kuehls, T., 129 Kymlicka, W., 169 Kyoto, 151 Labaras, N., 206 Lafferty, W., 130 Lauber, V., 194 Leal, D., 72, 81, 83–6, 100, 135, 140, 141, 142, 143, 193 Leopold, A., 73– 4 liberal democracy, 2, 59–60, 64 –6, 81, 89, 96, 98–9, 114, 118, 127–8, 149, 151– 4, 157, 158–9, 180, 205, 206–9 liberal political economy, 75–8, 206–7

227

liberalism, vii, 3, 151, 153– 4, 164 –5, 177, 192–204, 206, 209, 211–12 liberty, 10, 31–2, 33– 4, 41, 68, 77–8, 83, 122–3, 151, 159, 169, 172 lifestyles, 184, 185–6, 190 limits to growth, 72, 76, 84, 109, 164 Lipietz, A, 164 Locke, J, vii, 4, 5, 28–30, 31, 33, 35, 75, 182, 195, 203, 206, 207 Lukes, S, 130 Luper-Foy, S., 110 Mackenzie, R., 121 Macado, S., 208 Macpherson, C.B., 28 Malthus, T., 156 Malthusian, 157, 158 market economy, 22 Martell, L., 178 Martinez-Alier, J., 164 McShane, T., 136 Meadowcroft, J., 64, 130 Mies, M., 144 Mill, J.S., viii, 5, 19, 33– 4, 35, 77, 157, 181, 206, 207, 208 Mills, M., 207, 208 Miller, D., 45 Mol, A., 61 monetary valuation, 87–8, 100 Mooney, J., 136 moralism, 182– 4 Morris, W., 19, 27 multinational corporations, 143, 146 multiple use, 69–70 Nagel, T., 3 National Environmental Policy Plan (NEPP), 96–7 nature, 46–7, 49–50 ‘natural duties’, 12 Naveson, J., 197 Neal, P., 186 neutrality, 14, 152, 168, 185, 186, 187, 189, 211 new politics, 5, 37, 38, 39, 48, 49, 51–2 new social movements, 38, 50 –2

228 Index Norton, B., 210 Nozick, R., 3, 195 obligations, 12, 173, 174, 196, 197–8, 208 also see duties Oksanen, M., 145, 193, 195, 210 Okoth-Owiro, A., 138 O’Neill, J., 125 O’Neill, O., 12, 13, 163, 173, 175, 176, 177, 205 open access resources, 136–7, 141 Opschoor, H., 21, 194 O’Riordan, T., 68, 69 Ostrom, E., 142 ownership, 201 Palmer, J., 178 Parekh, B., 40, 41 patents, 144 –5, 146–7 paternalism, 181–3 Pearce, D., 64, 81, 86, 88, 100 planning, 62–3, 64, 90 Platteau, J.P., 136, 142 Poguntke, T., 46 Popper, K., 191 population policies, 11, 110, 149, 154 –8 Posey, D., 138, 139, 147 postmaterialism, 37 private property, 6, 72, 79, 86, 136, 141, 195, 210 privatization, 139, 140 – 4, 145, 147 precautionary principle, 5, 62, 67–8, 69–71, 77, 95, 100, 122, 208 production, 62 progress, 65, 78 property rights, 30, 131, 135 quality of life, 61 Rawls, J., 3, 9, 12, 14, 67, 75, 80, 118, 122– 4, 163, 173–5, 177, 178, 184 –6, 195, 197–8, 206, 208 Raz, J., 188 Redclift, M., 164 reflexive modernization, 7 Regan, T., 174 Rehg, W., 112, 113

responsibility, 165–6, 192, 196, 208, 211 ‘restraint priciple’, 14, 193, 200 –3, 208 rights, viii, 3– 4, 8, 41, 117, 168, 170 –3, 176, 184 –5, 193, 199–201, 207 risk society, 5, 6, 7, 101, 102– 4, Robertson, D., 41–2, 45 Rolston, H., 164 Rorty, R., 206 Rowlands, M., 196 Russell, B., 188 Ryberg, J., 158 Sachs, W., 2 Sagoff, M., vii, viii, 12, 59, 125, 130, 167–8 Sartoiri, G., 43 savings principle, 198 scepticism, 187–9 Schlager, E., 142 science, 44, 65, 67, 84, 102–3 Sedjo, R., 135, 137, 138 self-interest, 172 Sheldon, J., 144 Shiva, V., 144, 146, 147 Shrader–Frechette, K., 107 Simson, R., 145 Singer, P., 125 Skinner, B.F., 19 Smith, A., 75 social injustice, 39, 171 social liberalism, 5, 66–7 social justice, 5, 38, 48, 49–54, 76, 102, 109, 114, 118, 168–70, 171, 207 Soltan, K., 78 state intervention, 31–2, 68 state neutrality, 67 state, the, 41–2, 90, 94 –5, 99, 117, 118, 122, 128, 176, 180, 183, 187, 211 steady state economy, 4, 19, 24, 34, 61, 77 Steiner, H., 199 Stenson, A., 144, 146–7 Stephens, P., 59, 194 Stevens, S., 136 stewardship, 4, 6, 25, 73

Index Stone, C., 125 subpolitics, 106, 108, 111 sustainable development, 1, 2, 8, 20, 39, 80, 81–2, 83, 86–7, 93, 110, 145 sustainability, viii, 1,2, 3, 5, 8, 10, 20, 27, 38, 48, 49–54, 64, 72–3, 76, 78, 80, 81–3, 96, 98–9, 101, 122, 149–50, 154 –8, 163–7, 170, 174 –7, 190, 204, 209 Swanson, T., 135, 136, 138, 143 Takacs, D., 138 Tashir, G., 39, 207 Taylor, C., 205 Third World, 24 Tocqueville, A., 75–6 tragedy of the commons, 10, 42, 139 uncertainty, 106–7, 187–9 unsustainability, 152 utopian critique, 60, 131

229

Varner, G., 73, 74 –5 Vincent, A., 153– 4 virtue, 65, 71, 175, 176, 179–91, 208, 209 Vogel, J., 139, 143, 146

Walden, I., 138, 144 Waldron, J., 168, 182 Walzer, M., 101 Weale, A., 61, 62, 65, 81, 93–6, 99, 193 Wildavski, A., 106 Wilson, E., 136 Wissenburg, M., viii, 59, 72, 193, 196, 198, 199, 202, 205, 208, 210 women’s education, 155 World Commission on Environment and Development, 110, 119 Wynne, B., 119