An Investigation  “Growth” — Metaphor, Concept, Ideology?

For some time now, there has been a suspicion that the word “growth” is actually a kind of covert metaphor. Political scientist Felix Heidenreich takes a closer look at a highly complex concept — and discovers an underlying ideology at its core.

Concepts and metaphors are usually relatively easy to distinguish from each other. With the former, the perspective recedes into the background, and a thing is arbitrarily designated as a label. The latter evokes a mental image. “Risk” is a concept, but “slippery slope” is a metaphor. In both cases, the situation is precarious.

Ambiguous Images

But this seemingly clear distinction can become rather ambiguous. Interestingly enough, it is precisely within the curious gray area between the conceptual and metaphorical use of language that interesting innovations emerge in philosophy. In the case of Ludwig Wittgenstein, Walter Benjamin, or Martin Heidegger, language begins to oscillate at the crucial points. Words like Lichtung (clearing), Ereignis (event/appropriation), or Holzwege (dead ends), for example, are intended by Heidegger to denote a phenomenon, on the one hand. At the same time, they trigger a whole string of figurative associations. They are “ambiguous images” that can always be two things — concept and metaphor at the same time. Heidegger called them Grundbegriffe, basic concepts that “provide reason.” He played with the double meaning of “ground” as, on the one hand, an abstract cause and, on the other hand, concrete ground — even simply “earth” in Alemannic.

The fact that, of all things, Heidegger’s use of language is relevant in this respect should serve as a warning. Quite clearly, the lurch between the conceptual and metaphorical use of words is poetically interesting. But at the same time, it is highly problematic. While it may have an appeal as a fascinating linguistic art, it can also lead the mind into negligent, wayward thinking. Language, indeed, becomes intoxicating but at the same time obscure. Eventually, we lose track of what we are actually talking about, and the ground is linguistically laid for political delusion. For some time now, there has also been a suspicion that the word “growth” is actually a kind of covert metaphor. The argument is that a supposedly rational, economic descriptor is actually a seductive and distorting mental image. This rationale is as plausible as it is profound. The fact that production and consumption rise from one year to the next merely signifies a quantitative increase, but not growth. Bricks that are stacked to form a wall increase in number — but the wall does not “grow.”

From this perspective, developed most relevantly by Bernhard H. F. Taureck [see Bernhard H. F. Taureck: Wachstum über alles. Die Karriere einer Metapher. SWR2, 24 May 2009 (Growth Above Everything: The Career of a Metaphor)], the word “growth” sneaks in a kind of naturalization, more or less unnoticed. The fact that freight traffic is increasing, for example, is a description of a state of affairs. If we say that freight traffic has grown, we generate the image of a natural, perhaps even unstoppable, process that is therefore completely legitimate and should be endorsed.

And precisely in this pseudo-natural sense, isn’t “growth” often linked with romantic notions of an educational path? A personality is said to have “matured,” to have “grown” after facing a challenge. This or that experience enables “personal growth.” Who would have wanted to speak out as a “critic of growth” — especially in the country of the great plant theorist Goethe? Don’t we all want to grow? Nature grows, we are part of nature, so we should grow — according to this common syllogism.

At this point, it becomes clear why, from the perspective of growth critics, certain uses of the word “growth” contain an ideological core. Like plants, it is implicitly assumed that growth is natural. Trees grow and economies grow — except when they are artificially hindered from doing so.

The Product That Fits the Ad

And it is precisely this naturalization process that makes the whole thing ideological: Any criticism of economic growth as a predominant category of social self-identification is automatically forced to take on a defensive position. People strive to get further in life, to do things better. Hence, economic growth is applauded and encouraged. Growth is the solution, not the problem.

And indeed, this is precisely what large areas of economic policy are concerned with: the question of how to “boost,” “enable,” or “stimulate” economic growth. The classic metaphor is that the economy is an engine that has somehow stalled, and a stimulus package will “kick-start the economy” (a questionable collective singular).

This kind of criticism is now half a century old. In its clearest form, it refers to the dual nature of consumer preferences. If demand increases, this is construed as an expression of genuine, well-informed decisions. Should demand fall, however, the assumed explanation is that obstructive external circumstances were the cause. The logic goes that people would actually like to work more so that they can consume more. Therefore, these barriers — meaning taxes, contributions, regulations — need to be removed. Consuming less for the sake of having to work less could not, in this view of the world, be a rational preference.

Should “Growth” Be an Ideology?

In the view of the French growth critic Serge Latouche, however, developed economies have already been at the stage of “post-growth societies with growth” for decades. It is only through perpetual new “stimulations” — artificially created demand, planned obsolescence (a deliberately planned defect that occurs after the warranty has expired), and overconsumption provoked by advertising — that pseudo-growth is kept alive. One stimulus package after another is like an electric shock to a dead body. This is why the marketing departments in many companies have become the true strategic hub. What many companies now seek is not the right advertisement for the product but the product that fits the ad.

This hope for redemptive growth is problematic, of course, due to the devastating environmental impact that almost all forms of economic growth have. Despite our hopes, climate-neutral forms of economic growth still seem impossible. It is extremely difficult, and probably only possible in very exceptional cases, to decouple production and consumption. Ultimately, something always has to be transported, processed, cooked, heated, and supplied with energy. Only an increase in sales of wooden recorders (made out of sustainable wood, of course) would be at least halfway eco-friendly because people who play the recorder don’t eat steak, don’t travel by plane, and don’t drive SUVs — at least not while they’re playing the recorder. Economically, however, playing the recorder is a disaster. You could say, an act of subversion.

The philosopher Hans Blumenberg said that metaphor taken literally becomes metaphysics — and “metaphysics” can possibly be translated here as “ideology.” Anyone who actually believes the economy is growing is thinking ideologically; they are taking what is only a hackneyed metaphor literally.

But does “growth” really have to become ideology? Not necessarily. Breaking away from a naturalized concept of growth would allow us to ask what things, actions, services we want to increase in our society. More recorders, electric guitars (wind-powered), string quartets, more poetry? Or more motorways, more SUVs, more New Year’s Eve firecrackers, double cheese burgers? No industry grows naturally. We decide what we want to increase, not just as consumers but also through political parameters. Whether “growth” becomes an ideology depends on how we want to live.

10/2023