Beware of hyperbolic headlines. But in this case, I’m afraid, as Ulrike Herrmann’s very readable book The End of Capitalism makes clear, the choice between capitalism and civilisation really does seem to be either/or – and the end will probably come a lot sooner that we thought.
Anyone who isn’t alarmed about the rapid and well-documented decline in the global environment, upon which we and our atypically comfortable lifestyles depend, really hasn’t been paying attention. You may not enjoy reading a book like this, but you really should read it – if only for your children’s sake.
The End of Capitalism appeared in Germany a couple of years ago, but it has lost none of its relevance or urgency. On the contrary, with Donald Trump in the White House promising to “drill, baby drill”, it could hardly be more timely.
Could capitalism end?
The majority of potential readers are likely to disagree with Herrmann’s central claim that “climate protection will only be possible if we abolish capitalism”.
This is unsurprising. We have known nothing other than capitalism in the West for several hundred years. Attempts to do things differently in other parts of the world, such as the Soviet Union, generally did not go well socially or, more importantly, environmentally.
One of the reasons it’s easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism, as philosopher Fredric Jameson famously claimed, is that people everywhere like the abundance of stuff that capitalism has been instrumental in producing. Living standards, especially in the West, but also in China, India and elsewhere, have risen unimaginably in a remarkably short space of time. It is not surprising that the beneficiaries have generally been pleased about this unprecedented change in their material circumstances.
True, contemporary capitalism is characterised by a growing gulf between the richest and the poorest, both within and between countries. This is an awkward problem for “communist” China, but one that Australians and especially Americans seem relatively unconcerned about. Herrmann, too, is surprisingly relaxed about it. She argues that “capitalism made democracy possible – and it can be democratically controlled”.
This idea is currently being subjected to a searching real-time examination, as the Trump administration systematically eviscerates and transforms America’s system of governance to a point where sober and serious analysts consider it to be headed toward authoritarianism. Herrmann does not consider such a possibility, but she does provide a clear explanation of the rise of capitalism and the social and technological forces that have made it the most transformative force in human history.
More hyperbole? Lots of people have given up on organised religion, but not many have renounced consumerism. Unlikely as such a renunciation might seem, Herrmann argues that endless consumption is something we will have to give up if the environment is to remain habitable. The argument is simple and has been around since the Club of Rome published The Limits to Growth, half a century ago: a system that is predicated on ever expanding growth is incompatible with a world of finite resources, especially if one of those resources is a functioning natural environment.
Lots of people have spent the intervening 50 years pointing out why the authors of that book were wrong. It is likely they will be queuing up to tell Herrmann she is wrong, too – especially when she argues that “‘green growth’ does not exist”.
The unpalatable options
We have been repeatedly assured that technology will come to the rescue. But Herrmann contends that “we no longer have the time to wait for possible technological breakthroughs. We must act immediately if we are to avert climate collapse.”
The seemingly irreconcilable problems, she argues, are highlighted in the cost of removing carbon from the atmosphere and storing it somewhere. Despite all the hype, such technology has yet to be viably demonstrated at scale. This means “humanity will be forced to move away from fossil fuels and towards green energy”.
Unfortunately for the likes of Peter Dutton, Herrmann is scathing about the prospects for nuclear power. There is some debate about precise figures, but the German experience, which is central to the book’s main arguments, suggests that even when Germany had 19 commercially run reactors, they could only provide around 13% of total energy consumed. Herrmann points out that “the nuclear energy sector is the only branch of industry in which costs consistently rise”. Reactors are, consequently, not viable without government subsidies.
Before admirers of green energy and especially “green growth” start feeling smug, it is important to note that Herrmann is equally sceptical about wind and solar. She claims that, between them, they provide less than 10% of Germany’s energy needs and won’t be of much use in periods of dunkelflaute: the “dark doldrums” when the sun doesn’t shine (much) and the wind doesn’t blow.
In 2024, however, after the publication of the German edition of Herrmann’s book, Germany generated 59% of its electricity from renewables, including 31.9% from wind and 14.7% from solar.
Nevertheless, energy storage is expensive and difficult, and the transition to green solutions is fraught. One example: it takes 35 kilograms of scarce minerals to make a traditional petrol driven car and 210 kilograms to make an electric one. Manufacturing the batteries for them generates a further 15–20 tonnes of carbon dioxide.
As a result, “our planet is being ransacked […] Around one-third of all raw material consumption since 1900 took place in the short time between 2002 and 2015.”
This is why Herrmann argues that simply moving to green energy sources will not be sufficient, either to guarantee current needs or to adequately reduce our collective impact on the environment.
It is not only the automotive sector that will have to shrink. One of the industries that will be difficult to reform, much less shrink, is aviation. Over a single year, 90% of the world’s population will not fly at all and 1% will account for half of the global aviation emissions. This mirrors the grotesque levels of inequality in global wealth distribution. It means the rich will have to join the poor in “saying goodbye to flying”.
Other examples of politically unpalatable sacrifices are given throughout the book. And the message is clear:
The challenges will grow, and the funds [to address them] will shrink. Consumption must fall, which immediately begs the question of who should cut back and by how much. Distribution conflicts will be inevitable.
Given that “technology will not enable us to produce enough green energy sufficiently cheaply to fuel ‘green growth’ […] the only remaining option is green shrinkage: fewer new buildings, fewer cars, fewer chemical products”.
This is a message that no policymaker anywhere in the world, democrat or autocrat, will want to hear. It is not just the rich industrialised countries that are wedded to the idea of economic expansion. Many developing countries would like nothing better than to join their wealthy counterparts. So would the people of the global south, which is why so many of them risk their lives to flee hopeless poverty.
Improbable precedents
Unlikely as the necessary reforms are to be realised, Herrmann suggests that wartime Britain offers a model of what can be achieved if the dangers are sufficiently immediate and existential. She points out that “rationing was so popular in Britain because everyone had exactly the same entitlement” – though no doubt the legendary “spirit of the Blitz” also had something to do with spending nights cowering in underground stations with hundreds of strangers while people dropped bombs on you.
This is not a flippant point. Without a dramatic change of consciousness on the part of “ordinary” people generally, and policymakers in particular, it is impossible to imagine the sorts of sacrifices that seem necessary to achieve the “shrinkage” being considered, much less enacted as “necessary prohibitions”.
Given that any actions would also need to have a global, rather than just a national rationale, a radical change of collective direction also seems improbable, to put it delicately, especially if it involves something resembling central planning.
And yet Herrmann argues that there is no choice other than radical and seemingly unimaginable change if we are to survive in anything like a civilised condition:
There is no alternative for the industrialised countries. Either they end growth voluntarily, or the era of growth will end violently, when everything that forms the basis of our way of life has been destroyed.
For what it’s worth, I agree. I am not a climate scientist, but I recognise that there is an intellectual division of labour that is a central component of modernity. None of us is capable of knowing everything about the increasingly complex world in which we live. But if something like 99% of climate scientists agree on the causes and likely consequences of climate change, I am happy to take their word for it. What possible basis could I have to disagree?
Herrmann may not be right about everything, but she is right about enough to cause any open-minded reader to think seriously about what the future looks like, especially for younger generations who will have to deal with the decisions we make – or don’t make – today.
This is hardly a novel insight. But it is striking that, for all our real understanding about the nature of the unprecedented challenge we collectively face, there is still an equally remarkable unwillingness or inability to act.
Like many before her, Herrmann thinks that salvation could come from “below”, because “parties do not lead their voters, they follow them”. But given what is currently happening in the United States and elsewhere, the durability of democracy itself is uncertain. In a world where democracy is already in retreat, the environmental emergencies that will inevitably increase without meaningful action could make authoritarian responses even more likely.
Still, what do I care? I’m a baby boomer with no kids. I live in one of the wealthiest, safest places on Earth. In Western Australia, we don’t even care about the rest of the country, let alone the rest of the world. Local politicians are planning to make an even bigger contribution to destroying the planet than we already do, because Woodside Energy wants to speed up the approval process for the controversial North West Shelf project. Good to know who’s running the state, at least.
It might have been useful if Herrmann had given a bit more attention to the politics of self-absorption or the slightly optimism-inducing literature on “degrowth”.
These are minor criticisms of what is a significant contribution to the literature on the climate crisis, though I fear The End of Capitalism may only be read by an already sympathetic audience. This remains a seemingly insurmountable obstacle faced by would-be reformers. I know it is considered de rigueur to strike an optimistic note when concluding discussions of this sort, but it is not easy, and may be dishonest.
There is no doubt that unmitigated climate change and environmental degradation will transform our lives and the political systems that circumscribe them. By the time they do, it may be too late to do anything useful, other than keep a lid on social breakdown. It won’t necessarily be the end of the world, but it may be the end of any human civilisation worthy of the name.
Mark Beeson, Adjunct professor, Australia-China Relations Institute, University of Technology Sydney
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
