I really enjoyed reading Radical Abundance, largely because of its strong dramaturgy. The book moves convincingly from big, conceptual critiques of capitalism toward concrete political imagination. Its central diagnosis—capitalism producing artificial scarcity alongside what the authors call “bullshit abundance”—is both intuitive and powerful.
The world of artificial scarcity and bullshit abundance is one where we have too much of what we don’t need (processed food, microplastics, the newest gadgets) and too little of what we do (affordable housing, time, care, and high-quality public space). Framing the crisis this way feels more politically promising than narratives focused solely on self-limitation—even though self-limitation is clearly necessary. Redefining abundance, rather than moralising restraint, strikes me as a much stronger strategic move.
I especially appreciated the more theoretical chapter on which the rest of the book stands. Here, the authors argue that any meaningful strategy for transformation must contain two core elements.
First, popular protagonism: people must feel empowered to collectively act in their own interests, rather than waiting for an external subject—be it the state, a charismatic leader, or even a “good” socialist party—to deliver change on their behalf.
Second, contested reproduction: instead of understanding systemic change as a single rupture, the authors frame it as the gradual construction of institutions that allow people to reproduce their lives within communal, non-capitalist logics. These institutions prioritise use value, care, and social need over profit and growth. Transition, in this sense, is a process in which two logics—capital and community—coexist, clash, and compete over time.
One of the book’s most concrete and original contributions to debates on economic democracy is the concept of Public–Commons Partnerships (PCPs). These are institutions governed by at least three stakeholders: the workers themselves, a public body or municipality, and an association of commoners. This governance structure makes it possible to balance different interests when planning production or deciding how to reinvest surplus, while preventing both state capture and market enclosure. I found this framework particularly promising because it anchors the often abstract idea of economic democracy in institutional design. PCPs function not only as a vision, but as a strategic wager—one that translates popular protagonism and contested reproduction into something politically legible and actionable.
This strategic clarity is one of the book’s strengths, especially in contrast to a recurring weakness on parts of the Left. Too often, the question of strategy is either omitted or glossed over: cooperatives, community gardens, or local initiatives are assumed to somehow “naturally” outcompete capitalism, or strategy is replaced altogether by imagining radically different futures—as if the core problem were a lack of imagination rather than entrenched power relations that actively need to be confronted. Radical Abundance refuses this shortcut. It takes power seriously and insists that institutions, struggle, and long-term strategy matter.
What I probably enjoyed most were chapters two and three. One lays out the conceptual framework of popular protagonism and contested reproduction, while the other grounds these abstract ideas in real political experiments. The case studies—from Kerala to Jackson (Mississippi), from communes in Venezuela to Berlin and Hernani in Spain—are not presented as models to be copied wholesale, but as context-specific practices we can learn from. Together, they offer a rare combination of theoretical clarity and political hope.
I also found the chapter on pharmaceuticals particularly compelling. The analysis of Big Pharma through the lens of capitalist logic—profit maximisation, artificial scarcity, intellectual property regimes—opened up a field I hadn’t previously explored in much depth. The chapter left me wanting to read more on the political economy of pharmaceuticals, and the book usefully points toward further resources for doing so.
While the final chapters are rightly visionary, I would have appreciated a more systematic mapping of how many Public–Commons Partnerships already exist, and in which sectors. Given how central PCPs are to the book’s strategic proposal, a clearer overview of their current scale and diversity could further strengthen the argument.
Ultimately, Radical Abundance argues that the core problem today is capitalism’s metabolic control over production: what is produced, how it is produced, and by whom.
"As counterintuitive as it might appear, the prospects of a green and democratic future aren't decided by how quickly we can replace fossil fuels with more sustainable energy sources. This of course matters, but the question of how quickly we can decarbonise society depends on a more fundamental set of questions: What is the energy we produce used for? Whose interests does its production serve? Who gets to decide what kinds of energy infrastructures are built, where and how? In other words, what regime of metabolic control does our energy system help to produce?
As long as our social metabolism is mediated by capital, as long as the reason why energy is generated and energy-intensive technology is deployed, is to generate the greatest profits, then there can be no end to capital's violent impact on human and non-human nature. As long as human ingenuity is subservient to – and constrained by – the imperative to accumulate, then every relative efficiency gain and every replacement energy source will achieve nothing but an acceleration of the demand for more bullshit abundance." (224)