A Culture of Poverty
E.F. Schumacher
[Reprinted from the book of essays edited by Dom
Moraes, Voices for Life:
Reflections on the Human Condition, published in 1975]
E. F. Schumacher (1911-1977), economist and
writer, was born in Germany. He studied abroad in the early
1930s, including a stay at Columbia University, but in 1937 he
left Germany permanently for England, where he lived the rest of
his life. During World War II, he was interned and required to
work on farms in Britain for a short period, but he was soon
released and worked with Lord Beveridge, who is credited with
the theoretical framework for Britain's welfare state. After the
war, Schumacher advised British authorities in postwar Germany.
He was economic adviser to Britain's National Coal Board
(1950-1970) and director of a company that pioneered common
ownership and workers' control. His books - all on economic
policy and planning - include Roots of Economic Growth
(1962); Small Is Beautiful (1973), a best seller that
was translated into fifteen languages; and A Guide for the
Perplexed (1977).
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Only the rich can have a good life - this is the daunting message
that has been drummed into the ears of all mankind during the last
half-century or so. It is the implicit doctrine of "development,"
and the growth of income serves as the very criterion of progress.
Everyone, it is held, has not only the right but the duty to become
rich, and this applies to societies even more stringently than to
individuals. The most succinct and most relevant indicator of a
country's status in the world is thought to be average income per
head, while the prime object of admiration is not the level
already attained but the current rate of growth.
It follows logically -- or so it seems - that the greatest obstacle
to progress is a growth of population: It frustrates, diminishes,
offsets what the growth of gross national product would otherwise
achieve. What is the point of, let us say, doubling the GNP over a
period, if population is also allowed to double during the same time?
It would mean running faster merely to stand still; average income
per head would remain stationary, and there would be no advance at
all toward the cherished goal of universal affluence.
In the light of this received doctrine the well-nigh unanimous
prediction of the demographers -- that world population, barring
unforeseen catastrophes, will double during the next thirty years --
is taken as an intolerable threat. What other prospect is this than
one of limitless frustration?
Some mathematical enthusiasts are still content to project the
economic "growth curves" of the last thirty years for
another thirty or even fifty years to "prove" that all
mankind can become immensely rich within a generation or two. Our only
danger, they suggest, is to succumb at this glorious hour in the
history of progress to a "failure of nerve." They presuppose
the existence of limitless resources in a finite world, an equally
limitless capacity of living nature to cope with pollution, and the
omnipotence of science and social engineering.
The sooner we stop living in the Cloud-Cuckoo-Land of such fanciful
projections and presuppositions the better it will be, and this
applies to the people of the rich countries just as much as to those
of the poor. It would apply even if all population growth stopped
entirely forthwith. The modern assumption that "only the rich
can have a good life" springs from a crudely materialistic
philosophy that contradicts the universal tradition of mankind. The
material needs of man are limited and in fact quite modest,
even though his material wants may know no bounds. Man does
not live by bread alone, and no increase in his wants above
his needs can give him the "good life." Christianity teaches
that man must seek first "the kingdom of God, and his
righteousness" and that all the other things - the material
things to cover his needs - will then be "added unto" him.
The experience of the modern world suggests that this teaching carries
not only a promise but also a threat, namely, that "unless he
seeks first the kingdom of God, those material things, which he
unquestionably also needs, will cease to be available to him."
Our task, however, is to bring such insights, supported, as I said,
by the universal tradition of mankind, down to the level of everyday
economic reality. To do so, we must study, both theoretically and in
practice, the possibilities of "a culture of poverty."
To make our meaning clear, let us state right away that there are
degrees of poverty that may be totally inimical to any kind of culture
in the ordinarily accepted sense. They are essentially different from
poverty and deserve a separate name; the term that offers itself is "misery."
We may say that poverty prevails when people have enough to keep body
and soul together but little to spare, whereas in misery they cannot
keep body and soul together, and even the soul suffers deprivation.
Some thirteen years ago when I began seriously to grope for answers to
these perplexing questions, I wrote this in Roots of Economic
Growth:
All peoples - with exceptions that merely prove the
rule-have always known how to help themselves, they have always discovered
a pattern of living which fitted their peculiar natural surroundings.
Societies and cultures have collapsed when they deserted their own
pattern and fell into decadence, but even then, unless devastated by
war, the people normally continued to provide for themselves, with
something to spare for higher things. Why not now, in so many parts
of the world? I am not speaking of ordinary poverty, but of actual
and acute misery; not of the poor, who according to the universal
tradition of mankind are in a special way blessed, but of the
miserable and degraded ones who, by the same tradition, should not
exist at all and should be helped by all. Poverty may have been the
rule in the past, but misery was not. Poor peasants and artisans
have existed from time immemorial: but miserable and destitute
villages in their thousands and urban pavement dwellers in their
hundreds of thousands - not in wartime or as an aftermath of war,
but in the midst of peace and as a seemingly permanent feature -
that is a monstrous and scandalous thing which is altogether
abnormal in the history of mankind. We cannot be satisfied with the
snap answer that this is due to population pressure. Since every
mouth that comes into the world is also endowed with a pair of
hands, population pressure could serve as an explanation only if it
meant an absolute shortage of land - and although that situation may
arise in the future, it decidedly has not arrived today (a few
islands excepted). It cannot be argued that population increase as
such must produce increasing poverty, because the additional pairs
of hands could not be endowed with the capital they needed to help
themselves. Millions of people have started without capital and have
shown that a pair of hands can provide not only the income but also
the durable goods, i.e., capital, or civilized existence. So the
question stands and demands an answer. What has gone wrong? Why
cannot these people help themselves?
The answer, I suggest, lies in the abandonment of their indigenous
culture of poverty, which means not only that they lost true culture
but also that their poverty, in all too many cases, has turned into
misery.
A culture of poverty such as mankind has known in innumerable
variants before the industrial age is based on one fundamental
distinction - which may have been made consciously or instinctively,
it does not matter - the distinction between the "ephemeral"
and the "eternal." All religions, of course, deal with this
distinction, suggesting that the ephemeral is relatively unreal and
only the eternal is real. On the material plane we deal with goods and
services, and the same distinction applies: All goods and services can
be arranged, as it were, on a scale that extends from the ephemeral to
the eternal. Needless to say, neither of these terms may be taken in
an absolute sense (because there is nothing absolute on the material
plane), although there may well be something absolute in the maker's
intention: He may see his product as something to be used
up, that is to say, to be destroyed in the act of consumption, or
as something to be used or enjoyed as a permanent asset, ideally
forever.
The extremes ate easily recognized. An article of consumption, like a
loaf of bread, is intended to be used up while a work
of art, like the Mona Lisa, is intended to be there forever.
Transport services to take a tourist on holiday are intended to be
used up and therefore ephemeral, while a bridge across the river is
intended to be a permanent facility. Entertainment is intended to be
ephemeral; education (in the fullest sense) is intended to be eternal.
Between the extremes of the ephemeral and the eternal, there extends
a vast range of goods and services with regard to which the producer
may exercise a certain degree of choice: He may be producing with the
intention of supplying something relatively ephemeral or something
relatively eternal. A publisher, for instance, may produce a book with
the intention that it should be purchased, read, and treasured by
countless generations or his intention may be that it should be
purchased, read, and thrown away as quickly as possible.
Ephemeral goods are -- to use the language of business -- "depreciating
assets" and have to be "written off." Eternal goods, on
the other hand, are never "depreciated" but "maintained."
(You don't "depreciate" the Taj Mahal; you try to maintain
its splendor for all time.)
Ephemeral goods are subject to the economic calculus. Their only
value lies in being used up, and it is necessary to ensure that their
cost of production does not exceed the benefit derived
from destroying them. But eternal goods are not intended for
destruction; there is no occasion for an economic calculus, because
the benefit - the product of annual value and time -- is infinite and
therefore incalculable.
Once we recognize the validity of the distinction between the
ephemeral and the eternal, we are able to distinguish, in principle,
between two different types of "standards of living." Two
societies may have the same volume of production and the same income
per head of populatio, but the quality of life or
life-style may show fundamental and incomparable differences: the one
placing its main emphasis on ephemeral satisfactions and the other
devoting itself primarily to the creation of eternal values. In the
former there may be opulent living in terms of ephemeral goods and
starvation in terms of eternal goods -- eating, drinking, and
wallowing in entertainment, in sordid, ugly, mean, and unhealthy
surroundings -- while in the latter there may be frugal living in
terms of ephemeral goods and opulence in terms of eternal goods --
modest, simple, and healthy consumption in a noble setting. In terms
of conventional economic accounting they are both equally developed --
which merely goes to show that the purely quantitative approach misses
the point.
The study of these two models can surely teach us a great deal. It is
clear, however, that the question "Which of the two is better?"
reaches far beyond the economic calculus, since quality cannot be
calculated.
No one, I suppose, would wish to deny that the life-style of modern
industrial society is one that places primary emphasis on ephemeral
satisfactions and is characterized by a gross neglect of eternal
goods. Under certain immanent compulsions, moreover, modern industrial
society is engaged in a process of what might be called
ever-increasing ephemeralization; that is to say, goods and services
that by their very nature belong to the eternal side are being
produced as if their purpose were ephemeral. The economic calculus is
applied everywhere, even at the cost of skimping and paring on goods
that should last forever. At the same time purely ephemeral goods are
produced to standards of refinement, elaboration, and luxury, as if
they were meant to serve eternal purposes and to last for all time.
Nor, I suppose, would anyone wish to deny that many preindustrial
societies have been able to create superlative cultures by placing
their emphasis in the exactly opposite way. The greatest part of the
modern world's cultural heritage stems from these societies.
The affluent societies of today make such exorbitant demands on the
world's resources, create ecological dangers of such intensity, and
produce such a high level of neurosis among their populations that
they cannot possibly serve as a model to be imitated by those
two-thirds or three-quarters of mankind who are conventionally
considered underdeveloped or developing. The failure of modern
affluence -- which seems obvious enough, although it is by no
means freely admitted by people of a purely materialistic outlook -
cannot be attributed to affluence as such but is directly due to
mistaken priorities (the cause of which cannot be discussed here): a
gross overemphasis on the ephemeral and a brutal undervaluation of the
eternal. Not surprisingly, no amount of indulgence on the ephemeral
side can compensate for starvation on the eternal side.
In the light of these considerations, it is not difficult to
understand the meaning and feasibility of a culture of poverty. It
would be based on the insight that the real needs of man are limited
and must be met, but that his wants tend to be unlimited, cannot be
met, and must be resisted with the utmost determination,. Only by a
reduction of wants to heeds can resources for genuine progress be
freed. The required resources cannot be found from foreign aid; they
cannot be mobilized via the technology of the affluent society that is
immensely capital-intensive and labor-saving and is dependent on an
elaborate infrastructure that is itself enormously expensive.
Uncritical technology transfer from the rich societies to the poor
cannot but transfer into poor societies a life-style that, placing
primary emphasis on ephemeral satisfactions, may suit the taste of
small, rich minorities but condemns the great, poor majority to
increasing misery.
The resources for genuine progress can be found only by a life-style
that emphasizes frugal living in terms of ephemeral goods. Only such a
lifestyle can create (or maintain and develop) an ever-increasing
supply of eternal goods.
Frugal living in terms of ephemeral goods means a dogged adherence to
simplicity, a conscious avoidance of any unnecessary elaborations, and
a magnanimous rejection of luxury - puritanism, if you like -- on the
ephemeral side. This makes it possible to enjoy a high standard of
living on the eternal side, as a compensation and reward. Luxury and
refinement have their proper place and function but only with eternal,
not with ephemeral, goods. This is the essence of a culture of
poverty.
One further point has to be added: The ultimate resource of any
society is its labor power, which is infinitely creative. When the
primary emphasis is on ephemeral goods, there is an automatic
preference for mass production, and there can be no doubt that mass
production is more congenial to machines than it is to men. The result
is the progressive elimination of the human factor from the productive
process. For a poor society, this means that its ultimate resource
cannot be properly used; its creativity remains largely untapped. This
is why Gandhi, with unerring instinct, insisted that "it is not
mass production but only production by the masses that can do the
trick." A society that places its primary emphasis on eternal
goods will automatically prefer production by the masses to mass
production, because such goods, intended to last, must fit the precise
conditions of their place; they cannot be standardized. This brings
the whole human being back into the productive process, and it then
emerges that even ephemeral goods (without which human existence is
obviously impossible) are far more efficient and economical when a
proper fit has been ensured by the human factor.
All the above does not claim to be more than an assembly of a few
preliminary indications. I entertain the hope that, in view of
increasing threats to the very survival of culture - and even life
itself - there will be an upsurge of serious study of the
possibilities of a culture of poverty. We might find that we have
nothing to lose and a world to gain.
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