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236 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 31, 2011
Economists are not, by and large, stupid people. Many of them are extraordinarily talented: the level of mathematical skill displayed by the number-crunching "quants" in today's brokerages and investment banks routinely rivals that in leading university physics departments. Somehow, though, many of these extremely clever people have not managed to apply their intelligence to the take of learning from a sequence of glaring and highly publicized mistakes. This is troubling for any number of reasons, but the reason most relevant just now is that economists play a leading role among those who insist that industrial economies need not trouble themselves about the impact of limitless economic growth on the biosphere and the resource base that supports all our lives. If they turn out to be as wrong about that as so many economists were about the housing bubble, they will have made a fateful leap from risking billions of dollars to risking billions of lives. (15)
The differences between the tertiary economy [i.e., finance] and the primary [i.e., natural resources] and secondary [i.e., production of goods] economies run very deep, and those differences have consequences that are central to our current predicament. In the real world, the supply of tangible goods produced by natural cycles or human labor is limited by factors that may not necessarily respond to changes in demand. If there's only so much water in a river, for example, that's how much water there is; the fact that people want more, if such is the case, does not produce any more water that the hydrologic cycle is already willing to provide. Equally, if a country's labor force, capital plant and resource base are fully engaged in making a certain quantity of secondary goods, producing more requires a good deal more than a decision to do so; the country must increase its labor pool, its capital plant, its access to resources or some combination of these, in order to increase the supply of goods.
Yet the only limit on the production of tertiary goods is that demand for them. (68)
It's not all that controversial to describe financial bubbles in this way, though you can safely bet that during any given bubble, a bumper crop of economists will spring up to insist that the bubble isn't a bubble and that rising prices for whatever the speculation du jour happens to be are perfectly justified by future prospects. On the other hand, it's very controversial just now to suggest that the entire tertiary economy is driven by positive feedback. Still, I suggest that this is a fair assessment of the financial economy of the industrial world, and the only reason that it's controversial is simply that we, our great-grandparents' great-grandparents, and all the generations in between have lived during the upward arc of the mother of all speculative bubbles. (72–3)
If economists took a wider view of the history of their discipline than they generally do, the might have noticed that what most of them consider a fundamental feature of all economies worth studying—the centrality of money—is actually a unique feature of an economic era defined by unprecedented amounts of cheap energy. Since the fossil fuels that made that era possible are being extracted at a pace many times the rate of which new supplies are being discovered, current assumptions about the role of money in society may be in for a series of unexpected revisions. (97)
What this means, ultimately, is that the change from today's industrial economy to the economies of the future can't be accomplished by plugging in some other energy source to replace petroleum or other fossil fuels. Nor can it be done by downscaling existing technologies to fit a sparser energy budget. It requires reconceiving our entire approach to technology, starting with the paired recognitions that the very modest supply of concentrated energy sources we can expect to have after the end of the fossil fuel age will have to be reserved for those tasks that still need to be done and can't be done with any more diffuse source, and that anything that can be done with diffuse energy needs to be done with diffuse energy if it's going to be done at all.
A society running on diffuse energy resources will thus not be able to make use of the same kinds of technology as a society running on concentrated energy resources, and attempts to run most existing technologies of diffuse renewable sources are much more likely to be distractions than useful options. In the transition from today's technology dominated by concentrated energy to tomorrow's technology dominated by diffuse heat, in turn, some of the most basic assumptions of contemporary economic thought—and of contemporary life, for that matter—are due to be thrown out the window. (143)
It should be obvious that whether or not a given technology continues to exist in a time of faltering abundance depends on three economic factors. The first is whether the things done by that technology are necessities or luxuries, and if they are necessities, just how necessary they are; the second is whether the same things, or at least the portion of them that must be done, can be done by another technology at a lower cost in scarce resources; the third is how the benefits gained by keeping the technology supplied with the scare resources it needs measure up to the benefits gained by putting those same resources to other uses. (149)
One useful way to assess the vulnerability of any current technology in the post-abundance world, in fact, is to note the difference between the direct and indirect energy inputs needed to keep it working and the inputs needed for other, potentially competing technologies that can provide some form of the same goods or services. All other factors being equal, a technology that depends on large inputs of energy will be more vulnerable and less economically viable in an age of energy scarcity than a technology that depends on smaller inputs, and the larger the disparity in energy use, the greater the economic difference. In turn, communities, businesses and nations that choose less vulnerable and more economic options will prosper at the expense of those that do not, leading to a generalization of the more economical technology. (161)
For the last few centuries, we have tried replacing [Lewis Mumford's "primal machine," i.e., "community"] with a dizzying assortment of others; instead of subordinating individual desires to collective needs, like every previous society, we have built a surrogate community of machines powered by coal and oil and natural gas to take care, however sporadically, of our collective needs. As those resources deplete, societies used to directing nonhuman energy according to scientific principles will face the challenge of learning once again how to direct human energy according to older and less familiar laws. This can be done in relatively humane ways, or in starkly inhumane ones; what remains to be seen is where along this spectrum the societies of the future will fall. (178)
The residents of any lifeboat community founded today will not only have to come up somehow with the very substantial sums needed to buy the land, build the cohousing units, wind turbines and so on, and plant all that permaculture landscaping; they will also have to earn a living during the long transitional process that leads from the world we inhabit today to the conditions that will pertain at the bottom of the curve of decline. Some awareness of these difficulties may go a long way to explain why, of the great number of lifeboat communities that have been proposed over the last decade or two, the number than have been built can be counted on the fingers of one foot. (190)
What sort of Plan B might work best depends on so many local and personal variables that specifics would be misleading. If you've got a large family with whom you're on good terms, bone up on your home economics skills; ten years from now, when four of your grandkids, their spouses and their children live in one rundown McMansion, having Grandma and Grandpa there to cook meals, tend children, and tend the garden will likely be worth much more than your keep. If you don't have a family or can't stand them, cultivate relationships with younger friends, or get ready to take up a second career that you can continue into advanced old age. No matter what you choose, it's not going to be as much fun as sitting on a lawn chair in a Sun Belt trailer park, but then the future is under no obligation to limit itself to those options we prefer. (231)
It's worth noting that while there's been plenty of talk about the monasteries of the Dark Ages among people who are aware of the impending decline and fall of our civilization, next to none of it has discussed, much less dealt with, the secret behind the success of monasticism: the deliberate acceptance of extreme material poverty. Quite the contrary: all the plans for lifeboat ecovillages I've encountered so far, at least, aim at preserving some semblance of a middle-class lifestyle into the indefinite future. That choice puts these projects in the same category as the lavish villas in which the wealthy inhabitants of Roman Britain hoped to ride out their own trajectory of decline and fall—a category mostly notable for its long history of total failure. (242–3)