Unexpected floods, storms and fires, throughout the world has prompted me to make the point that the future must be seen as a process. From the bottom up.
A process in which “black swans” will gradually fill in the big picture.
There can be no “grand plan” of the kind that is the basis of conventional economic and land use planning. Which rely on explicit or implicit assumptions about how the world works. And assume growth.
It must be a process of gradually building our consciousness of what is going on. And assumed de-growth. Getting away from wishful thinking that the future will be much the same as now.
An article in the book Synergy Matters by Adrian M. Castell may help in understanding what is meant by bottom-up thinking and the opposite, top-down thinking: The term ‘top down’ is used to describe an approach to problem-solving where the problem space is defined first. The worldviews of the participants are used to conceptualise the desired state of the proposed system. Once this is achieved, the system is developed within this boundary. The components or subsystems are derived within the context of the predefined desired state. The term ‘bottom up’ is used to describe an approach where no assumptions are made about the boundary of the problem space. The behaviour of component parts is rationally observed to determine the properties they have. Management decisions or system designs are then based on the observed behaviour of components. You just chip away, gradually, and gain more awareness and confidence as you do.
Lorenz Duremdes writes that bottom-up: …. is mostly process-oriented. You walk along the process and try to chunk them together coherently without necessarily knowing where the process will make you end up. You mostly experience and observe the past and chunk the data together. It is like picking up different puzzle pieces and discovering during the journey whether they truly fit together or not without knowing how the ending possibly should look like.
The Management Study Guide states that: It would be useful to think of top-down decision making as being akin to someone sitting on top of a tree telling those at the bottom about how best to take care of the garden on the ground. On the other hand, bottom-up decision making is akin to those at the bottom deciding on how best to tend the garden and ensuring that the other trees grow to the same height as well. It does not take a genius to figure out that those at the bottom have a better understanding of the ground realities than those at the top. The point here is that top-down decision making is becoming redundant in these days when autonomy and decentralization are the norm.
Our own planning must be focused on understanding the emerging future and preparing for it.
Knowing our locality will be important. To avoid floods we should avoid living in areas that are flat or low-lying. Detailed knowledge of local typography is just as important. Studying contours on maps and local memories will tell us the routes heavy rain and overflowing streams will take Much of which is a result of modern agriculture.
Public sector spending on coastal and river flood protection schemes, which provide short term relief should be diverted to supporting those who want to move away from areas that flood. Enabling local housing markets to evolve in response to the effects of climate change.
The notion that a “business as usual” future, protected from rising sea levels and inland flooding can be possible should be abandoned. Let nature have its ways as happened in the past when boroughs such as Ravenser Odd were abandoned as a result of shifting sands.
It must be a process of bottom-up thinking. With a rough idea of an end in mind, which changes as new realities emerge.
For the time being, maybe we should aim to stop global warming and climate change.
We must assume de-growth. This will be difficult because we haven’t been here before
….. the continued operation of an advanced industrial economy like the UK depends upon the weather to avoid collapse this winter. And we might, perhaps, want to ask some searching questions about how we reached this point, and what we might do to develop at least some resilience for the future. But there again, most of us prefer the comforting lies to the inconvenient truth. So maybe it will only be after we have experienced power outages and a cascading collapse that we will raise such questions. And even then, half of us will find a way of blaming it on Brexit
In his latest blog post on Ecosophia John Michael Greer introduced me to a new word, illth, first coined by Ruskin.
This is the conclusion of his piece:
During the long era of expansion made possible by the exploitation of fossil fuels, the world’s industrial nations had positive-sum economies: that is to say, the total amount of wealth in those nations increased on average from year to year, and it increased faster than the total amount of illth. Since the arrival of the first energy crisis in 1973, the world’s industrial nations have effectively had zero-sum economies: that is, the total amount of wealth—not of money, but of nonfinancial goods and services—remained largely static on average, while the total amount of illth rose to equal it. We are now moving into an age of negative-sum economies, in which the total amount of wealth decreases on average from year to year, while the total amount of illth rises steadily for a while.
In a negative-sum environment, trying to preserve wealth by stockpiling tokens is a fool’s errand, and no, it doesn’t matter what tokens you stockpile. Are there strategies that can deal effectively with such times? Yes, though they’re highly counterintuitive to minds raised to believe in limitless growth.
A paper from Power to Changeis interesting because it argues that putting local communities in charge (from the bottom-up) is more likely to work than top-down Government action. “It argues that we need to develop a more coherent strategy for developing social infrastructure at the neighbourhood level.
For this to happen, the mechanisms by which levelling up is delivered need to have communities at their heart.”
This is the Executive Summary:
Many well-regarded economic and social commentators have agreed that the government is unlikely to realise its levelling up ambitions without addressing the need to invest in social infrastructure – the physical spaces and community facilities which bring people together to build meaningful relationships. Evidence shows that social infrastructure creates economic value by reinvigorating high streets and boosting skills and employment; social value by supporting community resilience and public health, and by bridging divides; and civic value through shaping identity and encouraging participation (Kelsey and Kenny, 2021).
Recent analysis suggests that only 13 per cent of the current major funding streams is likely to be spent on social infrastructure (Davis and Collinge, 2021). The quantum of investment is clearly an issue. But failure to invest significantly in social infrastructure is not the only challenge in the government’s current approach. We see another risk to this important agenda in the way in which levelling up policies are being conceived and implemented. What continues to be missing from the funds and policies that are being put in place to drive levelling up forward is a focus, not just on what is done, but on how it is done – the means by which we try to strengthen and grow social infrastructure in our communities, and who is in the lead.
This paper argues that to realise the potential of social infrastructure to contribute to levelling up, we need to focus at the neighbourhood level. We must use the local skills and knowledge of community-based organisations as the starting point for building this critical infrastructure. Failure to do this risks reinforcing inequalities.
There is strong evidence that community-led solutions to levelling up work
Using the government’s Levelling Up Framework, this paper looks at the evidence base for community-led solutions delivering against a number of the key outcomes. It highlights case studies of community organisations tackling multiple and interconnected challenges at a neighbourhood level. We identify the following four dimensions of the Levelling Up Framework where evidence indicates community organisations can make a significant contribution:
“So no, until someone can come up with a scalable and cheap energy-dense replacement for fossil fuels, no amount of wishful thinking is going to generate the high-skilled and high-paid economy that a growing number of commentators hope to create in the aftermath of the pandemic. The massive and self-inflicted drop in energy implicit in the various versions of “building back better” can only result in demand for labour growing even as the wealth to pay for it is disappearing (either through inflation, market crashes or both). It is true enough that in the future “you will own [almost] nothing…” but it is unlikely that anyone is going to be happy about it.”
Future “business as usual” seems like a pipedream. Which is denied by the powers that be.
If electricity prices, delivered through the grid increase for the foreseeable future, whilst prosperity is declining, going off-grid must begin to make sense. Especially off-grid communities.
From “The Times”:
Across Britain, consumers and businesses are feeling the pinch from rising energy prices. Soaring wholesale gas and electricity costs over the past six months have already left millions of households facing the biggest rises in their energy bills in a decade and piled pressure on heavy industry.
There could be worse to come. This week UK wholesale gas and electricity prices hit all-time highs — and it is not even winter.
“It’s very unusual for this time of year,” Murray Douglas, head of European gas research at Wood Mackenzie, the consultancy, said. “This is the sort of thing we start to see when we get cold snaps. The worrying thing is that this is happening now, in September. We’re approaching a winter with not too much margin for error.”
West Burton power station in Nottinghamshire had to be turned back on for the first time in six months because of a lack of wind power
On Monday one of Britain’s last remaining coal plants, due to close for good next year, was fired up for the first time in six months when wind farm output was low. Critics have seized on fears of a winter energy crunch to question both Britain’s reliance on imported gas and the security of its electricity supplies as it builds more wind farms to tackle climate change.
Experts say the causes of the latest gas and power price rises are manifold and not confined to Britain. There are similar scenes across Europe, with record prices provoking protests in Spain, and natural gas prices are surging globally amid a fundamental mismatch between supply and demand.
“The European winter was cold and long, causing a significant drain on gas in storage across the Continent,” Thomas Rodgers, of ICIS, the price reporting agency, said.
In Asia the winter was also cold and demand has bounced back particularly strongly from the pandemic, drawing cargoes of liquefied natural gas away from Europe. The problem has not gone unnoticed in Beijing: yesterday China said that it would sell oil from its state petroleum reserves for the first time to “alleviate the pressure of rising raw material prices”, easing the pressure of rising “feedstock” costs affecting its domestic refiners.
Energy supply has been made worse by a lack of wind in Europe, making Britain more reliant on energy from gas
Traders had hoped that Gazprom, the Russian multinational, would boost pipeline gas supplies to Europe, but this has not been forthcoming, prompting claims that it was withholding supplies as leverage to complete its controversial Nord Stream 2 pipeline. Rodgers however, said that it appeared to be more a question of capability, with a fire at a crucial plant hampering capacity.
Douglas said that there had been “disproportionate attention” on Russia when the UK’s own gas production had “really struggled”, down 28 per cent so far this year owing to maintenance and Covid-related project delays. “It’s a big feature of the current gas price rally — we are having to import more gas,” he said. The consultancy believes British production should recover in the months to come, but even then sees no let-up in prices. “There’s a lot of nervousness in the market. It’s been a long time since Europe has entered a winter with such little gas in store,” Douglas said.
High gas prices have been a key driver of power costs because Britain generates the biggest share of its electricity from gas-fired power stations. Phil Hewitt, director of EnAppSys, said it was “a perfect storm of events”. Coal prices also have risen and carbon prices have surged, further pushing up the costs of burning both gas and coal.
At the same time, he said there was “a shortage of traditional large generation stations”: coal plants are closing, some gas plants “were mothballed and won’t be back this winter” and there have been maintenance outages at nuclear sites.
Making all that worse, there has been much less wind power than usual, making Britain even more reliant on burning expensive gas. “This summer was one of the least windy in this part of the world since 1961,” Hewitt said. “We can expect [power] prices to increase further and to have more records as gas and carbon seem to be on a relentless higher-priced trend.”
If prices do remain high, that is likely to mean further increases to energy bills when the government’s price cap, covering 15 million households, is next updated in April. It is also a worrying prospect for industry: UK Steel said this week that the record prices had already “forced some steelmakers to briefly suspend operations . . . when the cost of energy goes sky-high”.
Proponents of renewables, such as Greg Jackson, chief executive of Octopus Energy, argue that “the staggering increase in global gas prices shows the importance of moving to cheaper renewables”. On the other hand, the Nuclear Industry Association says that the impact of low wind power shows we must urgently invest in new nuclear plants to provide “reliable, always-on, emissions-free power”.
Guy Newey, strategy director of the Energy System Catapult, said that the experience of recent days was a “postcard from the future energy system”, in which more wind and solar would “create spikier wholesale prices, sometimes negative, sometimes high . . . There is no fundamental reason why a grid with a higher proportion of wind and solar cannot be just as reliable as our current energy system, but future electricity markets need to properly reward clean technologies that provide back-up capacity, energy efficiency and flexibility, including the storage provided by electric vehicles.”
British electricity prices surged to £2,300 a megawatt-hour as Ireland warned of a power shortfall that could lead to blackouts. The peak is more than ten times higher than the value at 8am yesterday. Ireland, which usually exports wind power to the UK, is facing supply shortages and issued an amber warning signalling possible blackouts.
Behind the story
Energy and fuel accounts for 6 per cent of the overall inflation basket, but they can have a big impact because prices are volatile (Philip Aldrick writes).
Oil prices, which have nearly doubled to $73 a barrel in the past year, account for about 0.4 percentage points of the present 2 per cent rate of consumer prices inflation, largely through petrol.
The Bank of England expects inflation to peak at 4 per cent, while Capital Economics, the consultancy, is forecasting 4.5 per cent, with Ofgem’s increase in household bills from October accounting for 0.7 percentage points of that.
The recent rise in gas and energy prices may lift inflation even higher. Ofgem’s next price cap starts in April and is based on wholesale market energy prices between August and January. According to Neil Shearing, chief economist at Capital Economics: “If current prices are sustained, there could be another spike in inflation in April next year.”
Indeed, the impact could be swifter if companies decide that they have to pass on their own higher energy costs. “Companies tend to absorb energy costs if profit margins are wide, but if they are tight because costs are rising elsewhere and demand is strong, they may feel able to raise prices,” Shearing said.
Bomb damage in the war in the old town area had not been removed. Air-raid shelters were still being demolished. There were thousands of people on pedal cycles. The street junctions were controlled by policemen on plinths, some with roofs over to protect them from the cold winds blowing off the north sea. The city fathers (which included Aldermen) were desperate for any kind of growth. It was a city in decline.
Then I moved to Southampton, at that time one of the world’s largest container terminals. Growing so quickly that the City Engineer’s highways department still had stables of horses and carts used for road works. A city growing so fast that potential developers were dissuaded from having meetings with the city planning department.
Then to Liverpool, another city in desperate decline. with streets of shops with windows boarded up, to protect them from smash and grab robbery. If you went out in the evening you had to pay little boys to look after your parked car. Slums were being demolished and their residents moved out to Skelmersdale New Town.
In that same era, we owned a holiday cottage in a redundant slate mining area in Wales. Where poverty was obvious. I remember an elderly lady who lived in a nearby cottage who was dressed in sacking. An area that would have become devoid of the population if the cottages had not been taken over as second homes.
The disparity between these places at that time seems remarkable now, albeit not so noticeable then.
Increases in Government spending and the growth of tourism since then has reduced the inequalities. For the time being maybe?
Declining prosperity hereon seems likely to lead to increasing diversity of local outcomes. Government spending will no longer be available to reduce the inequities.
Each area will have to make the most of its resources. The local economies which exist now can not be assumed to continue.
The piece below is the first I have come across which imagines a future. Fictional, and enjoyable!
The Future is a Landscape
by John Michael Greer
I’ve been reflecting of late about the way that our habitual expectations about change blind us to the way that change actually happens. One of the most important of these is the frankly weird but pervasive notion that the future is a single place, where only one kind of thing happens. It’s always “The Future,” very much in the singular. To most people these days, of course, “The Future” is either progress as usual or it’s instant apocalypse, and I’ve discussed that before, but let’s look at the broader pattern for a moment.
In both of these cases and far too many others as well, the future is all the same, and it’s all the same forever. It’s never one kind of future here and a different kind there, or a glossy Tomorrowland here and something more realistic there, or apocalypse here and everywhere else people just pick themselves up and get on with their lives. Nor is the society of the future generally allowed to peak and decline, as societies do in the real world, nor will the big loud catastrophe fade into memory and leave the survivors to go on to do other things, as disasters do in the real world. Missing here is the crucial realization that history doesn’t stop with us, and change will continue to unfold into the far future the way it has all through the past.
Another conversation along these lines is more than usually timely, because that durable 1972 study The Limits to Growth is back in the news again. There’s good reason for that, of course. The Limits to Growth showed that economic growth on a planetary scale is subject to the law of diminishing returns; pursue growth far enough, and the costs of growth rise faster than the benefits and eventually force growth itself to its knees. Of course it was denounced, derided, and dismissed. Its models of the future have nonetheless proven far more accurate than the conventional wisdom of its time and ours.
You might think that people who looked at the future predictions of The Limits to Growth would notice that the curves generated by the World3 computer model on which the study is based are relatively smooth. Population, industrial product, and other measures rise and fall in great arcs over a timespan of many decades. Yet the weird mental habit mentioned above inevitably swung into action the moment that somebody noticed that the model wasn’t predicting business as usual forever. The corporate media accordingly started screeching at the top of their electronic lungs that we’re all going to die by 2040, full stop, end of sentence.
I’ve noted before that these antics are an absolute necessity to believers in the conventional wisdom just now. More than anything else, those believers need predictions that fail even more obviously than the prophecies of limitless progress hardwired into the acceptable ideologies of our time. Screeching about the imminent end of the world fills the bill very nicely. Sure, Tomorrowland never shows up, and the claims that it’s about to arrive any day now are looking very shopworn. If the only alternative on offer is the end of the world, and that never happens either, it’s a little easier to keep on arguing that the Great Pumpkin-equivalent of the conventional wisdom’s technofetishistic wet dreams really will show up one of these days and hand out flying cars to everyone.
Meanwhile, of course, a very different future is taking shape around us. If we ignore for a moment the Tweedledoom and Tweedledee of the conventional wisdom, it’s possible to get a clear glimpse of the future crouching in the shadow of the present.
The severe drought that has most of western North America in its grip right now is a good place to start. Those of my readers who have been keeping track know already that droughts have been getting increasingly common and increasingly drastic in that half of the continent over the last two decades or so. Of course there have been intervals of more normal conditions in between the heat waves and the droughts, and a great deal of statistical noise, and these have been used repeatedly in attempts to insist that everything’s just fine.
A little while ago, for example, I read an online essay by a meteorologist insisting that the record heat wave that baked the Pacific Northwest last month couldn’t have been caused by shifts in the global climate. The evidence he offered for this claim? Summer high temperatures in the region haven’t been rising in a linear fashion. It’s embarrassing to see this kind of basic ignorance of systems behavior in a credentialed specialist, but it’s not surprising. Once the heyday of systems theory in the middle of the last century waned, most of what was known about the behavior of complex systems seems to have been dropped into our society’s memory hole.
The way complex systems respond to increasing pressure from changing conditions is part of that forgotten knowledge. The change doesn’t unfold in a nice, smooth, simplemindedly linear way. Every complex system tends to settle into an equilibrium condition, held in place by a complex interplay of competing pressures and forces, and the behavior that comes out of this usually takes the form of random wobbles among a set of standard states. That’s why we can talk about the normal climate of a region—under ordinary conditions, the weather mostly cycles through a set of familiar patterns, and any variation from that pattern gets corrected in short order by robust forces pushing things back toward equilibrium.
A system can pop out of one equilibrium condition and into another, but that process takes time and unfolds in a predictable way. First, you get increasing variation without a definite direction of change. The boundaries of “normal” get stretched, and they usually stretch in many directions as the system wobbles back and forth with increasing violence. If the pressure continues, things get more and more chaotic, and then you begin to see the first signs of a new equilibrium: the system flops from its old normal to a new normal, settles there briefly, then flops back again. Rinse and repeat; as the pressure increases, the old normal becomes less and less common, and the new normal stops being the exception and becomes the rule. Periods of the old normal become less and less common and finally stop, and the chaotic behavior fades out as the new equilibrium establishes itself.
That’s what’s happening to the climate in western North American right now. The droughts are the new normal toward which the climate system is moving, and the familiar climates of the recent past are the old normal that’s going away. We even know the shape of the new normal. Paleoclimatologists—people who study the climate of past ages—know perfectly well what happens when global climate is warmer than it has been in the recent past: the West dries out. In the Hypsithermal, the period of higher-than-present global temperatures that followed the end of the last ice age, the West from the coastal mountains to the Mississippi was far drier than it is today—Nebraska was a desert with sand dunes, for example, and quite a bit ofthe land west of the Rockies was uninhabitable wasteland of the sort you find these days in the Sahara Desert.
During that same period most of the region between the Mississippi and the Appalachians was prairie, rather than the broadleaf forest it became after global temperatures cooled. Interestingly, the same rule works in reverse in cold epochs—during the last ice age, for example, Death Valley was a sparkling blue lake surrounded by pine forests—but, er, we’re not moving into a cold epoch. The equilibrium toward which we’re moving is one in which global temperatures are significantly warmer than they have been in the recent past, and the drying out of the West is a sign of the world to come, the climate that will shape the North American future.
The western forest fires that filled so many eastern states with smoky haze several times in recent weeks were a product of that shift. Millions of square miles now covered by conifer forests are turning into desert or semidesert as the climate becomes more arid, and so the forests are going away, with lightning-sparked fires among drought-stressed woodlands as one of Gaia’s preferred methods for making the change from one of her ecosystems to another. When the change is complete—a process that will take many decades and a lot of chaotic wobbles to play out—most of western North America will be desert again, as it was during the Hypsithermal.
It’s worth taking a moment to think about the consequences. In the recent past there was enough rainfall in the great basins west of the Rockies to feed a series of major river systems—the Colorado and Columbia watersheds chief among them—which made agriculture possible across much of the dryland West and also provided drinking water and hydroelectric power in great abundance. As conditions change, most of that water and power are going away. Millions of acres of farmland will have to be abandoned. So will cities that have no other source of drinking water—and there are quite a few of those. Once Lake Mead and Lake Powell become salt flats with a muddy trickle running down the middle, for example, Las Vegas will have rolled snake eyes once too often, and its sun-baked ruins will have to be left to the sand and the keening wind.
Over the century or so ahead of us, as climate belts shift, the Puget Sound region will have to adapt to the sort of climate central California has now, while California settles deeper into desert conditions, without water from the Colorado basin to pick up the slack. If you want today’s Puget Sound climate, plan on moving to the Alaska Panhandle. Further east, the great forests of northwestern Canada will become open prairie. Warm weather systems shifting northward will accelerate the melting of the Arctic Ocean ice pack and speed up the point at which the Arctic will be blue water year round, as it was ten million years ago, when the valley of the Mackenzie River had the kind of climate that the Columbia basin has now.
That’s good news for the people who live beside the Mackenzie, who might want to think about teaching their kids to plant apple orchards and wheatfields to take advantage of the lengthened growing season that’s heading their way. It’s not good news for the hundred million or so Americans who live in areas that are running out of water as the rain belts shift, and who will become impoverished refugees as their homes become valueless and their jobs go away. The economic losses that will follow the collapse of Western agriculture and the abandonment of regions that can no longer support human habitation are almost impossible to tot up. I know, it doesn’t help to realize that the same thing is happening in Asia, where Iran and Kazakhstan are already facing severe water shortages and the drying up of the Himalayas promises to do the same thing to vast regions of China, India, and Pakistan.
Some questions need to be asked and answered at this point. First of all, can anything be done to stop these changes? The answer here is quite simply no. On the one hand, the climate belts are already shifting as the old equilibrium breaks down, and further changes are baked into the cake at this point, given the amount of greenhouse gases that have already hit the atmosphere. On the other, the political will to take significant action to cut greenhouse gas production simply doesn’t exist. The reason it doesn’t exist, in turn, is that most people who claim to be concerned about the climate are eager to see other people deprived of carbon fuels, so long as they themselves don’t have to make any significant changes in their lifestyles.
It’s reached the point that some people on the leftward end of the climate activist movement are loudly insisting that they need to engage in violent terrorism because, as they say, nothing else has worked. They’re right that nothing has worked, because the one thing that would work—leading by example, starting with their own lifestyles—is the one thing they aren’t willing to do.
People on the center and right, meanwhile, have drawn their own conclusions from the antics of the climate change movement. Most of them have noticed that the people who claim to be upset about the climate aren’t upset enough to cut their own carbon footprints to any meaningful degree. Many have noticed that nearly all the proposals the left is offering would, as usual, benefit the middle and upper-middle classes at the expense of the working classes and the poor. Thus they’re not having any of it, thank you very much. Nor is violent terrorism going to change their minds. It’s just going to convince them that climate activists are dangerous crazies best locked up or used for target practice.
But isn’t the climate crisis all the fault of big corporate polluters? (This is another common talking point on the left these days.) Sure, in a certain sense. Keep in mind, however, that nearly all of what those big corporate polluters are producing with all that carbon are goods and services that support the climate-wrecking lifestyles just mentioned. Since climate activists are still eagerly clamoring for those goods and services, furthermore, there’s no particular reason for the big corporate polluters to do anything else. Yes, boycotts might help, and we’ve already seen that it’s possible to do a worldwide shutdown of commercial air traffic—one of the most climate-damaging industries in existence—without causing undue harm. Will climate activists boycott their annual vacations in Mazatlan and Bali? Let’s just say I’m not holding my breath.
But won’t temperatures just keep on rising and bring on the apocalypse? The evidence from paleoclimatology offers a good way to check the rhetoric. 250 million years ago in the Triassic Period, the atmosphere had six times as much carbon dioxide in it as it has today—a level that will never again be reached, because so much carbon has been locked up in inert geological forms like chalk and limestone since then. The earth was much warmer, ice caps and glaciers were unknown, and the climate accordingly shifted into overdrive: paleoclimatologists have coined the moniker “megamonsoon” for the cataclysmic weather systems that swept over the planet in those days. Nonetheless the ancestors of today’s cedars and sequoias thrived, leaving the traces of vast forests for paleontologists to admire. So did your ancestors, dear reader—for the therapsids, the ancestors of mammals like you and me, the Triassic was a great time.
But what if some kind of long-shot catastrophe takes place? Here again, it’s happened. A little later, in the Jurassic and Cretaceous Periods, gargantuan volcanic eruptions in the Toarcian and Cenomanian-Turonian epochs triggered what paleoclimatologists call super-greenhouse events, in which the temperature of the planet spiked to very high levels. The dinosaurs shrugged and went on munching ginkgo leaves. If the dinosaurs had built an industrial civilization, massed huge populations in unsustainable dinocities, and sunk trillions of dinodollars into infrastructure that would become worthless when the temperature rose, they would have had a very hard row to hoe, no question. They didn’t, and so they were still thriving when the earth got whacked by an asteroid millions of years later.
Arguably we aren’t as smart as the dinosaurs. Certainly we’ve got the industrial civilization, the unsustainable cities, and the climate-threatened infrastructure on its way to a final value of zero that they never had, and our species also doesn’t find ginkgo leaves very nourishing. Thus we’ve got a very hard row to hoe. It’s quite understandable that so many people would cling to the fantasy that the world will end sometime very soon so we don’t have to face the consequences of our actions, but you know, the world has no particular interest in catering to our sense of entitlement even when that takes an apocalyptic form.
Yet there’s another point to keep in mind here. The super-greenhouse events in the Toarcian and Cenomanian-Turonian epochs went away once the planet stopped belching gigatons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, and the rather more modest greenhouse event of the Holocene-Neocene transition—yes, that’s where we are right now—will go away in due time, too, once our industrial civilization runs out of fossil fuels and drops the same bad habit. How long? Centuries or millennia, depending on complex feedback loops involving such things as plant growth, oceanic currents, and the modest but significant vagaries of the Sun. The desertification of the West is no more permanent than anything else on this planet of ongoing change.
A couple of thousand years from now, in other words, archeologists from one or more of the future nations of eastern North America will travel on muleback through the slowly greening deserts to unearth the fabled ruins of Las Vegas and marvel at the insane bad taste of their ancestors. Then they’ll go back home, publish illustrated books on their adventures, and go on to deal with the problems and possibilities of life in their own time, which will not be anything like the present, nor for that matter anything like our fantasies of the future. (Look at comparable notions of the future published in, say, 1880, if you want some sense of just how far off the mark ours will be.) Then history will go on and other things will happen.
Apply the same logic to every other crisis of our time and see just how different the future looks. Think about the current population bubble as yet another boom that is already showing signs of tipping over into bust—one recent study argues, on plausible grounds, that we may already have hit peak population worldwide. Just as in every great civilization of the past, centuries of steady population decline will help define the shape of the future before us. Think about fossil fuels not as things that about to run out suddenly, nor as things that are about to be replaced by some new and even more abundant energy source, but as things that are already trickling away gradually as rising prices and shrinking production feed each other, leaving us to get by on the much more modest energy resources of sun and wind and muscle.
What I’m suggesting is that we need to think of the future as a landscape: not a single place where only one thing happens and nothing ever changes again, but as a vast and unmapped territory with many different kinds of terrain, where many groups of people live in many different ways, some more successfully than others. Remember, too, that most of the people who live in that landscape will never have heard of us and won’t care about what we thought or said or did. I suspect that that’s the thing that galls our collective sense of entitlement most bitterly and generates the shrill self-pity so common these days—“but we’re special!”
No, not to the landscape of the future, we aren’t. The sooner we let go of our overinflated sense of importance and grasp that we’re just one civilization out of many, going through the familiar arc of rise and fall, the sooner we can get to work on the possibilities that are still within reach.