[Editor's note: How much is

enough? Especially during the holidays, it's a question many Americans

struggle with. How much is enough free time, family time, money, food,

household space, savings, etc.

The Center for a New American

Dream offers a column by author Alan AtKisson that examines the concept

of "enough," using a Swedish notion lagom as a model. What,

he imagines, would happen if society were modeled around the concept of

enough? And what are the implications of our American definition of "enough"

for the rest of the world?]

My friend from Sweden has two

towels. Actually she has three, but the third she uses only for travel.

When the bathroom towels are dirty, she washes them. When they wear out,

she buys two more and very good ones, so they'll last a long time.

"Why do I need more than

two?" she says. "Det 'r lagom."

What she said in Swedish does

not exactly translate to "This is enough." The word "lagom"

pronounced melodically, the "la" a falling tone, the "gom"

(rhymes with "home") a shorter syllable that's right back up

where the "la" started means something like, "exactly the

right amount."

What a delight to learn this

word! When it comes to thinking about responses to overconsumption and

consumerism, we are stuck, in English, with far less pleasing words. "Enough"

sounds to most American ears as though it had the word "barely"

just in front of it. For some reason, "enough" never sounds

like ... enough. "Balance" sounds difficult; I'm always losing

mine. "Sufficiency" carries the whiff of technical economic

jargon. Even "simplicity," the current fad-word-of-the-moment

in some marketing circles, tends to appeal only to those folks with either

a moral commitment or a serious case of overwhelm.

We need a concept for thinking

about how much, in terms of stuff, is the right amount and the Swedes

have given us a word for it.

The concept of "lagom"

can be applied to everything from cake to carbon dioxide emissions. What

is "lagom" for chocolate cake? For me, it's usually a little

bit more than "enough." But what's "lagom" for CO2?

Only as much as the ecosystems of the Earth can reabsorb, and no more.

"Lagom" allows for more than enough but it still sets limits.

What if our society were organized

around the concept of "lagom"? Not that Sweden is organized

that way; although my friend is hardly an extremist, she is a more enthusiastic

"lagom"-ist than many of her fellow Swedes. (Imagine the Vikings

taking only "lagom" when they plundered!) And most Americans

would have trouble just pronouncing it. But I have developed a small fascination

with this word, because it has an attractive quality that "enough,"

"sufficient," and even "simple" often lack.

Most people in the world do

not want enough. They want more. They certainly want more than the bare

minimum, and research suggests they want more than those around them.

This desire for more seems to be deeply wired in the human organism. We

developed over millennia in hostile environments, both natural and social.

To have more than we need has always been our first defense against the

vagaries of an uncertain future. Hoarding is the first act of those who

believe themselves to be in the path of a storm (or a marauding army of

plundering Vikings, for that matter).

So while there will always

be those of us who love the idea of "enough-ness" and "voluntary

simplicity," it seems likely that such concepts will never quite

be ... well ... enough to transform the masses of humanity (or the marauding

army of corporations vying to fill their houses with stuff, in a kind

of reverse-plunder operation).

But it does seem possible to

promote a sensible Swedish sense of "lagom" worldwide if we

can find other good words for it because it speaks more to what people

actually want. Let's admit that it's very nice to have good shoes. No

one can be faulted for wanting them. But does a person really need 15

pairs? No. But is one pair enough? Perhaps not. "Lagom" acknowledges

that people have varying needs and desires at different times.

They want nice things, and

comfort, and security. They want more than the bare minimum, and they

might even need it. If their desire for more than enough is accepted,

even supported, perhaps they would be more willing to consider how much

is too much.

Clearly, here in America, we

are far beyond the limits of "lagom." Once in a while I make

a point of wandering into a Costco or a Sam's Club huge retail warehouses

full of consumer goods, on sale cheap. The spaces are large enough to

house a submarine assembly plant. You can buy everything from taco shells

to trampolines to model wooden boats, by the crate. The shopping carts

are as big as a small car.

Walking around the aisles of

one of these stores allows me to indulge in several radically different

feelings: raw consumer lust, great moral outrage, and aching environmental

angst.

But when I took my same Swedish

friend to see one of these places, her response was more practical. "I

suppose people can save quite a lot of money here," she noted. "And

it's better to buy some things in larger quantities." (Not towels.)

"But perhaps it's just very tempting to take too much in such a place."

Nobody really needs too much,

and in fact, most people don't really want it. But nobody wants too little.

Perhaps our vision for a sustainable world should include not just enough

for all, but "lagom" for all, with fewer temptations to take

too much.

And while I could write a great

deal more about this lovely new addition to my vocabulary, perhaps this

page, too, is "lagom."

[Alan AtKisson is the author

of "Believing Cassandra: An Optimist Looks at a Pessimist's World."

He is president of AtKisson and Associates, Inc., a consulting firm focused

on accelerating sustainable development. He is also a senior fellow with

the independent policy institute Redefining Progress, and formerly its

program and executive director. Mr. AtKisson is a member of the board

of directors of the Center for a New American Dream. For more information

about the Center, click on www.newdream.org, or call 877-68-DREAM.]