Sink or Swim: Sustainability by Necessity

Written By BC

Perhaps the biggest blockade to America’s own path towards sustainability is the fault of our country’s mainstream mentality: consumption without compensation, economy over environment, and the false notion that the United States of America is somehow immune to the global consequences of continued abuse of the world’s natural resources.
Creativity is often the child of necessity: when one has less, one simultaneously needs less and creates more with what little he or she has. In “the land of plenty,” however, the opposite phenomenon has occurred.
America’s own excess of material goods (the result of said stale mainstream mentality) has led its citizens to believe not only that the products that they buy and consume will never run out, but that the very wilderness that spawns every gadget, gismo and skyscraper under the sun – Mother Earth – is an inviolable and infinite resource as well.

Imagine a world where less actually was more – an isolated island somewhere, let’s say, blocked off from the majority of international trade and commerce. Due to the island’s necessity for self-reliance, its people quickly learned how to optimize their natural and manmade surroundings in the most practical, renewable and efficient ways possible.
Nothing was thrown away. Items merely changed hands, changing shape along the way. Simple improvements were sometimes made, but in many cases the old, original design turned out to be the best one. Life rolled on – less was more.
With this same approach, history managed to preserve itself. Instead of demolishing centuries of culture and architecture just to fill somebody’s pockets, the island merely let its buildings be. Year after year, the foundations remained solid and the roofs held out the rain. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right? Well, that one depends on whom you’re asking.

In the United States, the 40s and 50s were a classic period of automobile production. But, as is the American way, newer models came out, the masses were won over with the next big thing, and the only concern with those bygone clunkers was finding a landfill big enough to hold them all.
Suppose, then, that this hypothetical island had the fleeting opportunity to take on huge shipments of these abandoned vehicles for a fraction of their original cost. Being practical people with a good sense of value, the island’s harbors were soon overflowing with American cars. Some worked, others didn’t, but regardless of their condition, the people learned how to get them running – and keep them running to this day – through patience, persistence, and good old resourcefulness.

With little to no electronic distractions, the island’s art scene was thriving. In a magic ally, bathtubs were painted with profound, reusable words and inset on a cobblestone wall as an art installation; every century-old surface was smothered with thoughtful color; every doorway teemed with life; music filled the air.
And as all those American cars grew older, the more valuable they became…