What’s that got to do with the price of tomatoes?

Recently, I wrote about the myth of scarcity that drives our lives so profoundly that we don’t even think about the myth itself, just the feeling that we’ll never have enough.  I said the alternative is abundance, which I define as having both a satisfactory standard of living and a satisfactory quality of life.  Thinking about the notion led me to the following question:

What is the difference between a store-bought tomato and one grown in my neighbor’s garden and given to me?

For one thing, I’ve observed the care, time, and effort my neighbor put into growing the fruit.  I’ve watched my neighbor weed the soil, stake the plant, and water it when needed.  Along the way, I’ve gained knowledge of the growing process and an appreciation for the complexity of life that nourishes the plant, pollinates the flowers, and ripens the fruit.  I have no idea where the store-bought tomato originated or how it was cultivated.

When my neighbor offered me the fruit, it fortified and expanded our relationship.  When someone gives us something, it fosters community rather than separation, and the fruit expands our relationship to nature.  It manifests an anti-scarcity idea of “when there’s more for me, there’s more for you.” It creates an ongoing tie between us that lasts long after the tomato is eaten.  Maybe I know the clerk behind the cash register, but most likely, they are a stranger to me.  They see the tomato as one of hundreds of items that will pass through their hands during the shift, working for a grocer owned by a corporation whose name they may or may not know.

I feel a sense of awe and gratitude for being honored with a gift, the result of my neighbor’s time and labor.  This gratitude and connectedness are the basis of community, and I honor their generosity.  It also makes me want to “pay it forward” in some way, turning the intention from an exchange to a circulation of sorts (and so on, and so on, and…).  Meanwhile, at the grocery store, “Your total is…”

More broadly, this simple act has radical consequences for the economy – it has reduced consumer demand and reduced GDP by cutting into economic growth.  This act is a small but real example of degrowth economic activity.     

The economy attempts to measure the totality of everything humans produce and do for one another (with caveats that, frankly, don’t make sense).  Let’s call this the standard of living.  It is separate from the gift of the tomato, the relationship, and the communal foundation established by the example above.  Let’s call this the quality of life.  The standard of living is finite and can be quantified, whereas the latter is qualitative and infinite.  After all, what is the cap on gratitude?  What is the limit on sharing?

This example demonstrates a few attributes of a healthy shrinking economy that provides a component of abundance and is a potential alternative to the economy of scarcity.  People spend less time producing products and services that support their standard of living and more time pursuing activities that enhance their quality of life, sharing their efforts with others in the community.  It’s not either/or, it’s both/and.

Fintech founders, if you’re looking for a problem to solve, think about and create solutions that provide ways for our gifts to circulate.