Commons develop break-through innovation. Focus on competition causes them to be commercialized for profit.

Modern industrial culture has placed such a premium on “innovation” — fueled in large part by an endless quest for competitive advantage — that innovation is often seen as an absolute good in itself. In such a world, its general goal is to help businesses prevail against competitors in the marketplace, improve return on investment, and entice consumers to buy an endless stream of “new and improved” products. By contrast, the commons as a system of provisioning is often considered backward, premodern, or tribal — ways of producing things that are seen as static, stodgy, and not innovative. This is a gross caricature if not untruth because many commoners are extremely capable of adapting to changing needs, including the need to reduce one’s ecological footprint. In a commons, there is no imperative to constantly expand production and profit, and so creativity can be focused on what really matters — ameliorating quality, durability, resilience, and holistic stability. Innovation need not be linked to boosting market sales and ignoring planetary health. Countless commons exhibit the pattern of Creatively Adapt & Renew as part of their everyday activity. As Eric von Hippel shows in his book Democratizing Innovation, all sorts of practitioner-communities — bicyclists, hang-gliders, skiers, extreme sports buffs — have developed breakthrough ideas that were later commercialized by conventional businesses.26 Indigenous peoples, too — long considered fixed and traditional in their ways — have shown immense creativity over the centuries in co-creating robust ecosystems through seed-breeding and animal domestication. The fertile soil in the Amazon region known as terra preta do indio — “dark earth of the Indians” — writes political economist James Boyce, “is not a random anomaly, but rather a deliberate creation of Indigenous farmers who long ago practiced ‘slash-and-char’ agroforestry in the region. A noteworthy feature of terra preta is its remarkable capacity for self-regeneration, which scientists attribute to soil microorganisms.”27 Such practices can also be seen in the creation of gravity-fed acequia irrigation in the upper Rio Grande valley, which transformed the semi-arid region into a rich landscape of wetlands, cultivated fields, and riparian corridors that allowed many animal species to flourish. The ETC Group, an organization that studies technological innovation, has called such creativity “Indigenous innovation” and “cooperative innovation”28 because Indigenous peoples have made countless ethnobotanical and ecological discoveries that transnational corporations have later sought to appropriate for free and privatize (“biopiracy”). Commoners survive through creative adaptation and renewal. It is in their blood. They habitually have to make do with what is available and improvise. Among peasants and poor people in India, there is a word for such innovation — jugaad — the Indian practice of slapdash innovation from whatever is at hand.29 Creative adaptation, in truth, is a part of the human condition. Struggle and need induce creativity as a matter of survival.