“Sustainability” Is Everywhere, but Is It Really?
On the loss, and recovery, of the meaning of one of the most diluted words of our time
December 16, 2025
Introduction
In our previous post, we introduced key concepts in probability and possibility theory.
In this post, we turn to a word that has been used so widely that its meaning has become blurred in its mainstream usage: sustainability. We’ll briefly trace how the term emerged, how it is used today, where that usage falls short, and what sustainability actually means when treated with the precision that honors its true scope and rigor.
Evolution of the Word “Sustainability”
The word sustainability originates from the Latin sustinere, meaning “to hold up” or “to endure.” Its earliest “use” (in quotes because we are about to reference the word’s German equivalent rather than the English word itself) traces back to 18th-century forestry in Germany – the word for sustainability is Nachhaltigkeit – where it referred to harvesting timber at a rate that would not exceed the forest’s natural capacity to regenerate. The idea was to use resources in a way that doesn’t compromise their future availability.
Over time, the term expanded beyond forestry to describe broader human-environment relationships. But it wasn’t until the late 20th century that “sustainability” entered global policy language, when sustainability was defined to be rooted in ecological limits and intergenerational ethics. The pivotal moment came when the 1987 UN Brundtland Report defined sustainable development as “meeting the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” That definition remains the most cited today and underpins frameworks like the UN Sustainable Development Goals.
The Brundtland definition is certainly a starting point for understanding sustainability. It emphasizes intergenerational equity and resource limits; however, it leaves out the structural dynamics (the feedbacks, thresholds, and regenerative capacities) that determine whether systems can actually sustain themselves.
As the word entered public and corporate discourse, its meaning expanded to cover almost any “responsible” act: installing solar panels, offsetting emissions, adopting recyclable packaging, or issuing an ESG report. The problem is not that these actions are unhelpful (they are helpful!). It’s that the term is invoked across so many contexts that its meaning has become diffuse, allowing people and organizations to claim they are “doing good” without being specific about what that actually entails and how it affects the broader system.
The Problem with “Sustainability”
There are a few problems with how the word “sustainability” is used.
First, it’s been reduced to a checklist of actions: cut emissions, use recycled materials, buy carbon offsets, maximize renewable energy usage. An initiative can lower one form of environmental pressure while intensifying another elsewhere in the system. For example, a company can reduce emissions yet still depend on extractive supply chains; similarly, a policy can promote growth in one sector while deepening inequities in another. Without understanding sustainability in the context of complex adaptive systems (a concept we discussed in our last blog post), partial solutions risk shifting burdens elsewhere in the system.
Second, it’s often used for “greenwashing,” as a branding or signaling tool rather than a meaningful framework for change. Greenwashing occurs when organizations present their actions as environmentally or socially responsible without addressing the deeper structures that cause harm.
In fact, the reduction of “sustainability” to a broad checklist of actions – any one of which does not necessarily enhance sustainability in isolation – makes the word easier to appropriate, contributing to this performative “greenwashing.” This is true because individual actions are easier to measure, quantify, and communicate. They fit neatly into marketing because they’re simple and legible: tons of CO₂ reduced, percentage of materials recycled, share of renewable energy used. Framing sustainability as a list of isolated actions allows organizations to claim they care about sustainability because they focus on or have achieved a specific metric along one of its many dimensions, without considering how that particular dimension interacts with (or even undermines) others within the broader system.
Of course, improving one aspect of sustainability can still be meaningful even if imperfect. It’s better to recycle more, all else unchanged, than to recycle less. It’s better to use more renewable energy, all else unchanged, than to rely solely on fossil fuels. And we believe that it is important to avoid reprimanding individuals who claim to care about sustainability for having used a plastic bag before, or left the lights on when they weren’t home, or flown in a plane. Everyone is implicated in the systems we’re trying to change. The point isn’t to be perfect; it’s to acknowledge trade-offs honestly and focus on improving what can be improved, 1. without pretending that isolated choices alone amount to sustainability, but also 2. without losing sight of how those choices fit within, and can help transform, the larger systems that make them necessary in the first place.
So, when is something “greenwashing”? Often, in organizations, these partial, isolated improvements are marketed as sustainability itself. Once a company can point to a few favorable metrics, it can claim success, even when the underlying system remains unchanged. That creates a false sense of progress and weakens the incentive to go further. And that’s one of the biggest problems we have with how the word “sustainability” is misused.
Tradeoffs and Systems
Sometimes, something is better than nothing. Other times, it’s not (or it even creates new problems elsewhere). And it’s often hard to know which is which. A systems perspective matters because it forces us to examine how improvements in one area of sustainability ripple through other areas, to understand how various choices come together to shape the behavior of the whole.
This tension of tradeoffs exists in individual actions, in societal trends, and in the behaviors of large and small companies.
Take the growing shift toward electric vehicles. EVs don’t emit CO₂ directly, but the electricity that powers them often comes from fossil fuels. They reduce emissions relative to the alternative, but unless that electricity is fully renewable, they don’t eliminate emissions. Still, all else equal, driving EVs is better for our planet than driving internal combustion vehicles because it moves the system, even if incrementally, toward lower emissions.
Another example of such a tradeoff is solar and wind farms. They play a critical role in reducing dependence on fossil fuels, but they also require vast amounts of land, materials, and infrastructure. The metals and minerals used in solar panels and wind turbines, such as lithium, cobalt, and rare earth elements, are often mined in ways that carry significant environmental and social costs. Expanding renewable energy capacity, in other words, can lower emissions while simultaneously intensifying pressure on ecosystems and communities involved in resource extraction.
These trade-offs don’t mean renewable energy shouldn’t be pursued; they mean we have to approach it with a systems perspective. It’s not as simple as “green light, keep doing this at any cost” or “stop pursuing this altogether.” The challenge is to address the entire chain, from material sourcing and manufacturing to end-of-life recycling and land use, so that progress in one area doesn’t come at the expense of another.
The documentary Deep Rising highlights this tension well. As demand for clean energy technologies grows, so does demand for the metals that make them possible. Deep-sea mining (i.e., extracting metals like nickel, cobalt, and manganese from the ocean floor) has been proposed as a way to meet that demand, often in the name of sustainability. But the deep ocean is one of Earth’s most fragile and least understood ecosystems. Mining it risks destroying habitats that took millions of years to form and disrupting biogeochemical cycles that regulate global systems. The controversy reflects the central paradox of sustainability.
The True Nature of Sustainability
Many people equate sustainability with balance: using resources at the same rate they can be replenished, keeping inputs and outputs in check. But balance implies stability, and real systems are dynamic. Forests burn and regrow; economies expand and contract; societies evolve. Sustainability, properly understood, is not the absence of change but the persistence of function through it.
That means the goal is not to freeze systems in equilibrium, but to strengthen their ability to renew themselves. Beyond just maintenance, regeneration is what allows systems to endure.
Regeneration
Regeneration extends the idea of sustainability beyond minimizing harm. It’s not about doing less damage; it’s about supporting the conditions that allow life, societies, and economies to restore and evolve. In ecological terms, that means maintaining the capacity of ecosystems to renew soil, cycle nutrients, and sustain biodiversity. In social terms, it means ensuring that communities can recover from shocks, redistribute resources fairly, and adapt to change without eroding cohesion or justice.
In this sense, sustainability and social justice are inseparable. Systems cannot be sustainable if they exploit or exclude the people within them, just as they cannot be sustainable if they exhaust the environments that support them. Regeneration therefore requires more than technological innovation; it requires rethinking the relationships among people, institutions, and the natural systems on which they depend.
True sustainability is dynamic: it recognizes that change is inevitable, and that endurance comes from adapting through it. To sustain, then, in this sense, is not to preserve what exists, but to create the conditions for continual renewal.
As we reflect on what “sustainability” means to us, we look to the year ahead as an opportunity to practice what sustainability demands: to adapt, to learn, and to renew.
~The GaiaVerse Team
Up Next
This is our last blog post of the year. We’ll see you in 2026!