Caution: Slow Learner Ahead


photo from wikimedia CC BY-SA 3.0

It seems to take me a while to really process things I have come to understand. There’s the initial “aha!”, and then there’s a kind of backsliding or forgetting, as I try to reconcile and integrate the new understanding into my very complicated, unwieldy, and tentative worldview. I’m not sure what that’s about, but that appears to be how this mind, this self works.

(Even now as I write these words I’m thinking: “That can’t be right; there is no mind, no self, so how can there be some understanding of how it works?” I have no idea; that’s still in the process of being worked out, and ‘I’ am clearly not in control of the process. My conditioning is messy. This whole paragraph can’t possibly make sense. Never mind.)

When I retired, I revamped the categories I used for my posts, streamlining them to just six: Creative Works, Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture/Ourselves, Using Weblogs & Technology, and Working Smarter. The latter two, which used to be the subject of most of my writing, have hardly been used since. Hard-coded blogs went out of style, and I lost both my edge and my interest in writing about technology and the work world.

At the same time, I reworded my ‘masthead’ to more accurately reflect what I was writing about: A “chronicle of civilization’s collapse, creative works and essays on our culture”. Very slowly, the tone of my posts became less prescriptive, as I realized how little I actually know, and that almost all of what I think I know is really just opinion, and provisional at that. That’s not new-found humility — I’ve come to realize that almost all of what everyone thinks they know is just opinion, and for the most part it’s arrogant and muddleheaded.

Accordingly, most of my writing (I still backslide regularly) shifted from the second person conditional or first person plural imperative (“you/we all should/need to/might be best to…”) to first person singular (as in this post: “here’s what I think I’m seeing/learning”). Likewise my “what we should do” lists about collapse have morphed into “reminders to myself” lists about accepting and adapting to collapse. Qualified words and phrases like “seemingly” and “apparently” and “my sense is that”, now seem (see what I mean?) to have taken over much of the space in this blog that previously conveyed urgency, necessity, absolute conviction, and outrage.

So this blog has slowly become less a “what to do” blog and more of an actual chronicle, capturing as best as I can sort out what is actually happening, and why it is happening, and not prescribing solutions, as collapse is a predicament that has outcomes, not a problem that has solutions. My reading choices changed commensurately — I have pretty much stopped reading anything that proffers prescriptions on what “should” be done, or which is clearly just opinions and rehashed propaganda disguised as “factual information”.

I am still reading just as much, but it is a vastly different set of readings. I no longer read any mainstream news at all, other than local news stories. Some of the blogs and newsletters I do read provide a quick digest and dissection of the mainstream media’s BS of the day, so I’m still aware of what misinformation most people are still subjecting themselves to. Much of what I’m reading is analyses of what is actually happening in the world (not what propagandists would have you believe is happening) that has been written by historians, economists, insiders, whistle-blowers, and deep thinkers who provide background and context for what is happening, and can help me see why things are happening the way they are.

That why never has anything to do with good vs evil, insane people, secret cabals of people who “actually control everything”, or the usual range of absurd conspiracy theories. Real life is not a Hollywood movie. My newer, more sober reading has finally made me realize that we are all doing our best (what we think is the best thing we can do both for ourselves and those we care about, even if that ‘best’ is awful), and then (and this was even harder to accept) that there is no such thing as free will and that we are all just acting out our biological and cultural conditioning given the circumstances of the moment, so no one is in control of what is happening.

When I first realized this, I felt compelled to create another blog post category for my writing, a category called Illusion of the Separate Self and Free Will, which explored both this new understanding of human nature and the human predicament, and the even more radical idea that there is no self to have free will, that the self is an illusion created by the brain to make sense of its model of reality.

For a while there was this kind of schizophrenic shifting happening in my writing, between the perspectives of the angry activist Dave, the resigned collapsnik Dave, and the equanimous nonduality Dave.

But more recently those three perspectives have all started to blur together, and it’s getting harder and harder to tick off any one category box when I index my new blog posts. It’s all connected. And I have no choice or control whether to be angry, or resigned, or equanimous about what I am writing, though I’m beginning to appreciate why, at different times, I feel all three reactions.

Still, I think I owe it to (most of my) readers not to annoy them with articles about our apparent lack of free will, let alone our lack of real selves, when they presumably come here to get interesting/alternative insights about collapse, about our culture and human nature, or about what is actually happening in the world, and why it is apparently happening.

But I’m increasingly sensing that this ‘compartmentalization’ is  bit dishonest, and probably confusing, since the entire lens through which I now view my chronicle of collapse is one in which we have no free will.

(And worse — it’s one in which there are no selves and no separation, just things apparently happening, outside of space and time, to no one, for no reason or purpose, and in which nothing really matters. Gah! Even I am not ready to completely embrace that lens. How could I possibly inflict it on my readers? Or am I just self-concerned that my readers will all quickly unsubscribe and turn to reading saner stuff? Never mind — let’s just leave it at ‘no free will’.)

But this blurring of the categories of this blog seems inexorable. It’s impossible to write about our culture or human nature without taking a stance on whether we do or do not have free will. It’s impossible to write about How the World Really Works without the presumption that the very nature of reality either is, or isn’t, what most humans believe it to be. And it’s impossible to write about collapse without being clear that the lens I see it through either does (sometimes) or does not (at other times) presume the existence of free will, time, and real, separate human selves.

I can’t have it both ways. The more I (slowly, slowly) integrate my emerging views on free will and on self and separation, into my writing on our culture and collapse, the more I’m likely to alienate readers who don’t share that perspective, even if they try to get their head around it, and even if they agree with and appreciate the insights and information my writing tries to provide.

I blame the fact that I’m a slow learner for this disagreeable situation. It took me forever to really understand, formulate and articulate Pollard’s Laws, even though they were intuitively obvious to me long before I did so. It seems to be taking even longer for me to integrate the worldviews behind the angry Dave, the resigned Dave, and the equanimous Dave. I’m not sure I’ll ever resolve their differences, and I’m even less sure that most readers of this blog would be happy if I did. The angry Dave is too self-righteous, and the resigned Dave is too dark and bleak, to abide for long. And the equanimous Dave is just unfathomable.

I keep reminding myself that life is apparently a successive approximation process. We absorb, we process, we accept or reject, we hypothesize, and we adapt our worldview, and our actions, accordingly.

Or more precisely, our genes, our bodies, our culture (the people we pay attention to), and the circumstances of the moment combine to condition us to do so. We are a perpetual work in process, in more ways than one.

But only apparently. Maybe. That’s the script that appears to be playing out. It would seem to be a grim story, an epic tragedy with probably an awful ending. But it’s only a story. Perhaps.

If I ever figure it out, you’ll be the first to know. Hopefully long before I do.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Illusion of the Separate Self and Free Will, Our Culture / Ourselves | 4 Comments

Adapting to Collapse: Some More Reminders


A friend of mine asked me the other day how I reconcile my disbelief in free will with the very human need to do something, anything, to cope with, deal with, and prepare for our civilization’s accelerating and inevitable collapse.

My answer was that I cannot. As I’ve often written, it’s impossible to prepare for something when you can’t possibly know how it will play out in the places you will be living, with the people you will be  living with (like it or not), as collapse deepens over the coming decades, and evolves into an utterly chaotic, uncivilized world.

The closest we can come, I think, is to be adaptable, as calm and accepting as wild uncivilized creatures are, and as pre-civilization humans were, to any and all changing circumstances that may arise, even those circumstances we cannot currently imagine. Whereas most of us now, at least in the West, are completely dependent, domesticated, and lacking even the basic technical and soft skills, knowledge, experience, and practice needed to build, create and sustain self-sufficient communities, wherever and however we might find ourselves during the late stages of collapse and thereafter. And the necessity to change, to move, to adapt to an ever-changing, uncontrollable situation, evokes in most of us anxiety and resistance, the antithesis of calm acceptance.

But ‘being adaptable’ suggests we have some free will around who we are and what we do. And IMO we simply do not. What each of us does is completely the result of our biological and cultural conditioning, given the circumstances of each moment. We have no choice about any of it, including how adaptable each one of us is, and how adaptable we will be as the situation becomes more dire.

So what, then, is the point of writing about adaptability, and the practices we might follow to become more so? Well, in the first place, I have absolutely no choice about what I write — it all comes ‘through’ me, a consequence of my own conditioning. I don’t need a point, or reason, to write about this, or any, subject.

And, in the second place, it’s just possible that something I write might arrive at just the right time to affect someone else’s conditioning, at precisely the moment they’re ready to hear it. And, if they’re really ready, they might actually act on it. None of that has anything to do with me, or them, or free will, or choice. There is no point to any of it. It’s just what is playing out, the only way it possibly could. We can only be who we are, believe what we believe, and do what we were already and inevitably inclined to do anyway.

Another friend of mine, Michael Dowd, is organizing an online discussion group around Terry LePage’s new book Eye of the Storm: Facing climate and social chaos with calm and courage. Much of the book is about acceptance and adaptability.

Michael believes we have free will and that there are practices and steps we can choose to take to prepare for, and deal with, the crises and grief of civilization’s collapse. I’m sure a lot more people agree with him than agree with me. But we do share a profound belief that collapse is inevitable, and accelerating quickly, and that it will be a catastrophic and exceedingly difficult predicament to deal with, and that we have no idea what its aftermath will be, or if indeed our species will even survive it.

The introduction, first and last chapter of Terry’s book can be read for free here.

Why did I read the book, when I don’t believe we have any free will over what we do anyway?

I had no choice. I found the sample chapters compelling, heartfelt, and thoughtful.

Some of it, I confess, I had no interest in reading. For example, the very last thing that those embracing the inevitability of collapse need, IMO, is another f*****g story. And I don’t believe any book is going to help you gather your courage to face what lies ahead, or make you calm if your nature is to be constantly anxious, fearful, and overreactive. People I know who have faced a lifetime of challenge, pain and trauma, when I ask them “Where do you find the courage to go on?”, simply reply: It isn’t “courageous” if you have no choice. 

And we have no choice.

In addition, unlike most people I know, I just don’t get the whole grief thing. When I’ve attended events on the subject, they just strike me as wallowing, and as completely useless. But then perhaps I’m just not in touch with my emotions. Lots of people seem to really value these collective activities. They find them cathartic.

Not me. When I enjoy crying, it’s while listening to a beautiful song or watching a beautiful sunset here and now, not dredging back up some loss or awful remembrance from the past, or conjuring up and dreading some imagined future horror. I respect that grief processes and rituals are important and even essential to many people learning to accept and cope with collapse. But not for all of us.

The parts of Terry’s book about the importance of composure and calmness in the face of chronic stress (even if we may have no choice as to how much calmness we can each actually muster or maintain) do ring true. So does the importance of reconnection to the natural world and of learning to build, and live in, true community. And the imperative of giving attention to your self-knowledge, self-awareness, and capacity for self-management (along the lines of the first three bullets of my Being Adaptable poster above) also makes a lot of sense. We may have no choice in what we pay attention to, but when we do manage to pay attention to what is going on inside us, and why, that self-awareness seems to help focus our energies, and make us less uselessly reactive.

Somehow, perhaps paradoxically, when it comes to what’s going on in our own heads, we seem to have no choice in what we pay attention to, yet we seem able to condition others, when we catch them behaving in un-self-aware ways, to pay more attention to their lack of self-awareness. Perhaps that’s why people who spend too much time alone tend to go mad.

The book has chapters on opting out of the industrial economy and consumerist society, on finding wonder in, and belonging to, the world, and on practicing compassion, which I found insightful.

Terry’s capsule summary of her first chapter is very well written. It reads in whole:

  • Sighting the storm. My dawning awareness of the depth of our predicament.
  • Not saving the world. The solace that comes from releasing ideas of fixing the unfixable. It sounds like giving up, but it’s not.
  • Perspective: It’s really that bad, and I am not alone. Kat’s realization of the depth of our predicament and her discovery of a community that shares her awareness.
  • A healthy form of avoidance. A warning against listening to pundits who predict we will all be dead or nomadic shortly.
  • Perspective: Getting real. A list from Karen Perry of what we can still do after we envision a future of catastrophe [most notable: “setting the younger generations free from the dominant culture”].
  • Don’t do this alone. My experience finding like-minded people and a plea to find yours.
  • Many voices: Living in two worlds. People share how they navigate living in the world of industrial consumer society’s “business as usual” while holding an awareness of our predicament.

This strikes me as an eminently realistic ‘roadmap’ for navigating the early stages of collapse. I found the attacks on Guy McPherson in relation to the fourth bullet a bit heavy-handed (I think Guy likely has the endgame pegged correctly but is probably off on the timeline, and in any case there’s no harm considering worst-case scenarios as long as you don’t obsess over them). But on the whole this list really does make a lot of sense.

The remaining chapters likewise each begin with a key summary of the chapter’s ideas. While some of them are suggestions on what to do, and worded that way (ie in the second person conditional tense), they can also be viewed, as I tried to do in my poster above, as “reminders to self” — things to remember and be aware of when things get rough (in the first person singular). Here is a brief sample of the ones that resonated most with me:

  • A reminder of the importance of finding out where (place and community) I really belong, and why belonging is so important.
  • A reminder of the importance of staying healthy to be able to deal with all the challenges that the predicament of collapse will present.
  • A reminder of the importance of accepting what is — and especially what is not — true and happening, and not fighting impossible battles, no matter how heroic. And also accepting and tolerating what is forever uncertain or unclear.
  • A reminder that outside the cloister of our prosthetic human civilization, the world is a place of impermanence, constant movement, insecurity, compromise, and adjustment, and a place where everything inevitably and naturally falls apart. And that as I rejoin that world, I will come to accept that this is how things are, and they don’t ‘need’ to be otherwise. I’m the one who will learn to adapt. Or won’t.
  • A reminder of the different forms of relationship whose distinctions and values have been lost, that I will of necessity relearn to navigate: relationships with ‘work’ partners, neighbours, people in community who are ‘not like me’, communities of interest and of practice, and of course, the more-than-human community.
  • A reminder that people in different cohorts from mine — children and young people, and those from different cultures and castes, often with different languages and ways of communicating and learning, need to be listened to on their own terms, and to have collapse explained to them in ways they can understand and come to accept.
  • A reminder that the accelerating migration of humans from more-collapsed to less-collapsed areas will continue and probably grow into the billions, and that essential to my coexistence with them will be my capacity to offer them refuge.

The book concludes with an excerpt from a sermon by Molly Housh Gordon called How to Survive the End of the World. It’s second-person-conditional tense again, but it’s very smart, and quite funny:

  • Get to know your neighbors. Feed them. Let them feed you. Watch each other’s kids, grandkids, pets.
  • Develop the muscle of generosity like you are training for a giving ultra-marathon. Share everything you can with anyone who asks, and ask for what you need.
  • Get in touch with your body. You will need it, and it knows things. Pay attention to what is happening below your neck.
  • Tell the truth. Tell it to yourself first.
  • Sit at the feet of your most vulnerable neighbors and in your own most vulnerable places. They have the most to teach you about survival. Listen.
  • Remember your ancestors, and the things they survived. Find the resilience that is your birthright and the courage that made way for your life.
  • Practice taking risks. Show up in every struggle where someone is fighting for their dignity, because that is how we will all survive.
  • Learn about reparations and native sovereignty. Double down on exorcising supremacy systems from your soul.
  • Learn to be tender. Refuse to be hardened. Let your heart be moved. Every damn time.
  • Root in the place you are. Learn its history. Learn its geography. Learn its seasons.
  • Sing. A lot. And dance. Make art. Make love. Rest luxuriously. Eat pie.
  • The world is ending and beginning now. We are surviving now. Let us love, let us connect, let us fight like hell for the dignity of each and all.

Lots of ideas, and reminders, in this book. I learned a little from reading it, including a bit about my own biases and blind spots. I felt better, appreciating that more and more people are actually starting to get the message I’ve been shouting about incessantly for the past 20 years.

How well am I doing in actually taking all these great and important ideas and reminders to heart and acting upon them? Rather abysmally. Will this book change my behaviour? Really unlikely. Will I join the book discussion group and just shut up and listen with an open mind? Come on, you know me better than that.

So, again, what’s the point? We are who we are, and do what we do, and we can’t be or do otherwise. Could some insights from this book, or from a follow-on conversation, or from my own thinking about the implications of the ideas in this book, worm their way into my brain and alter my conditioning in some way that would, in some small way, have this body doing something it wouldn’t otherwise have done? You know, like, for example, maybe something I hear next week or next year will be something I will, as a result of this worm, pay a little more attention to, listen to more carefully, let it sit. Maybe that worm might provoke me, say, when someone mentions something about some upcoming school event in my town, to volunteer to talk to the kids in that school about collapse. Isn’t that possible? Of course.

One of my most important learnings in life has been that, while we may have no choice in what we do or don’t do, we condition each other in unpredictable and often indirect ways. Conversations, daily practices, study, and books like Eye of the Storm, can make a difference, maybe even an important one we’d never have imagined possible. We can’t know. We can only do our best. Our best may be inspiring, or awful, but it’s the only thing we could have done.

And that, I keep reminding myself, has to be enough.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Illusion of the Separate Self and Free Will | 2 Comments

The Miscalculation

This is a work of fiction.


“The Aftermath” by Midjourney AI; my own prompt

The situation was grim. The Ukrainian War, dragging into its fourth year, had essentially illustrated the utter bankruptcy of any idea that a war in the 21st century could have a “winner”. All of Europe had been plunged into a horrific recession caused by enormous military expenditures, sanctions against Russia, massive increases in energy and food costs, and the deindustrialization of its economies, due to reliance on expensive American resources. El Niño had also weighed in, producing two successive years of terrible fires, heat domes, and disastrous crop failures due to drought and flooding. Eighty percent of Ukraine’s population had been killed or displaced. The world was tired of war, but there seemed no way out.

In the war room of the Pentagon, there had been talk since the war began of what had previously been considered unthinkable: deploying “limited” nuclear weapons against another nuclear power. In the fall of 2025 the idea was proposed again. There were new weapons, nuclear but much smaller than the 5,000 full-scale bombs poised to launch against cities in the West and its declared “enemies”, Russia and China. The Taiwan War was also at an impasse, though not nearly as bloody, so far. Something had to be done.

The idea was to deploy the mini-nukes all along the Russian holding lines in Ukraine, essentially a “shock and awe” demonstration that would be carried out with precision, killing the bulk of the Russian armies in Ukraine with minimal “collateral” damage. Proponents said this would so devastate the Russians that they would have no alternative but to withdraw their remaining troops in disarray. And what could the Russians do to retaliate? US intelligence suggested that their small-scale nuclear arsenal was small, and that the grinding war had severely reduced their capacity to deploy it with any speed or accuracy in any case. Besides which, using it would entail killing many of what remained of the Ukrainian citizenry, many of whom were the Russian-speaking people that Russia was presumably trying to “liberate”.

Not only would this end the exhausting and disastrously expensive war, they argued, it would send a message to China that the same kind of precision strike could be used against the Chinese forces located in and around Taiwan, and end the nerve-wracking impasse there.

Much of the Pentagon debate centred on the risk that Russia would respond by launching an all-out world war with its full nuclear arsenal. Most believed that they would never do so. It would result in Russia’s obliteration, and hence be self-defeating, and the Russians were not nihilists, they argued. Others said it was still too great a risk to take, especially if the use of small nuclear weapons by both sides were to explode into even more bloody violence and devastation than had already been seen on the battlefront. And there was always the heightened risk of an error.

The military decided to do a simulation, a table-top exercise, to see what the range of possible outcomes might be and calculate the risk more precisely. The scenario that seemed to work best was a single multi-point strike, rather than a series of provocations that would give Russia the chance and time to respond.

The event that changed everything was a unanimous declaration by the countries of the European Union that they were withdrawing from all further cooperation with the war effort, other than humanitarian aid, and moving to restore trade and energy flows with Russia. The full confession of a CIA insider about how the US had blown up the Nord Stream pipelines three years earlier was the final straw — it was now absolutely clear that the US President knew about and authorized the bombing. The Europeans, exhausted and impoverished by the war and its sanctions, had had enough.

That same day, enraged at the Europeans’ actions, the US President authorized the precision strike by mini-nukes along the full line of Russian positions in Ukraine.

The strategy was to portray the strike as a special offensive by the Ukrainian army, using a battery of new weapons from various Western states, and to celebrate the Ukrainians’ “courage, patience and skill” in waiting for just the right moment to turn the war around.

But when it happened, the Russians, equipped with radiation detectors, quickly realized that the weaponry used was nuclear, and protested to the world and to the UN. Unfortunately, the “precision” strikes were less precise than had been planned, and despite massive propaganda efforts to discount radiation reports as exaggerated “depleted uranium” numbers, Russians at the front were able to conclusively demonstrate that nuclear weapons had been used. The Americans continued to deny this was the case.

The Russians were now in a quandary. Yet another red line had been crossed, with the usual US lies and deceptions. The war had expanded somewhat into Russian territory, as the Americans had previously allowed what were left of the Ukrainian forces to use Western missiles to strike Russian cities near their border in “retaliatory strikes”, and the Russians now knew that the use of US mini-nukes could soon be extended fully into their own country.

The pundits of the day were alarmed. They postulated what the US would have done if Russia had used nuclear weapons on their borders. There was no doubt in their minds. Those who had worked with the Pentagon or CIA knew full well the drills that the US did every month to prepare for all-out nuclear war, and the pretexts in their simulations were eerily close to what the US had just provided to Russia.

Still, they didn’t believe the Russians would be crazy enough to start a full-scale nuclear war against the West just because the US had used “limited” nuclear weapons in the Donbas, on land that Russia had declared, based on referenda of its citizens, to now be a part of Russia. They wouldn’t, would they? It would be suicide.

That was the first miscalculation.

We didn’t know all that back then. Perhaps we still don’t know the whole story. But the next 48 hours were completely chaotic. There was no notice of the strikes, and even when air raid sirens sounded, who knew what to do? Hide in your basement? Flee to the countryside?

From what we can determine now, the bombs killed about 40 million Americans, 30 million Russians, 70 million in the UK/EU, 150 million Chinese, and 100 million in other countries, by various ghastly means. Why the Chinese were targeted (though they retaliated as well) is unknown; perhaps in the panic of the moment it was impossible to reposition or hold back the missiles aimed at them. That toll was about what the forecasters had predicted. But that was just the immediate effects of the blasts.

The immediate problem in the aftermath was the destruction of infrastructure — roads, water pipes, bridges, power and gas lines, and transportation infrastructure essential to any kind of regional or international trade. Without any possibility of this being repaired, most of the large cities all over the world were simply abandoned.

That was the second miscalculation.

More than half the world lived in cities. Three billion people streaming out of the cities after finding them uninhabitable (running out of food and water supplies, and energy supplies for transportation, heat and cooling, within just three days, for example) just could not be accommodated in the rest of the world. We have no toll for the havoc this wreaked on our planet in the months after the blasts, but it was clearly enormous.

That was followed by a host of additional perils — a blackening of the sky with soot for months, the nearly complete destruction of the ozone layer, and torrents of acidic “black rain”. It was always dark almost everywhere for a long time, especially above the Tropic of Capricorn, where half the world’s people lived. Over the next two years, the average global temperature dropped 8ºC to a level far colder than in the ice ages. Needless to say, crop failure in most countries, with almost no sunlight and little water reaching the surface, was close to 100%. I don’t think most people, when they shopped their nearby convenient grocery store before the war, had any idea how complex, fragile and vulnerable the food chain on which they completely depended to stay alive, actually was.

The effect of all of the above over the next two years was the death of over five billion humans, through a combination of starvation, freezing to death, burns, and anarchic violence in the struggle over available food. The total toll was over 99% in much of the area north of the Tropic of Cancer. That too was predicted.


map from Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, based on their most recent research and simulations

The immediate effect of this food, resource, infrastructure, and population collapse, was the collapse of all our centralized political, economic, and social systems. By the end of 2027, the world’s population had plummeted to about two billion, half of us living in just six tropical countries that had been (relatively) spared the effects of the nuclear winter: India, Pakistan (despite the fact they had apparently launched their nuclear arsenals at each other immediately after the US responded to Russia), Indonesia, Nigeria, Brazil, and the Philippines.

These are basically the last bastions of our global human civilization. We can’t go out in the sun, which would burn us to death in minutes, unless we cover up. It is often unbearably cold, and there is nothing left to burn to heat ourselves — the tropical forests were largely killed by fires, or acid rain, or layers of soot, or frost, and what was left was cut down for burning for warmth. There is no food in the ocean, since the fish couldn’t survive the temperature drop, and what food there is is often contaminated. Disease is everywhere, and there is no capacity to produce any but the most essential medicines. What government we have is totally corrupt.

We sometimes hear about the Remainers in the North — the six million remaining Americans, the twelve million remaining Europeans — whose lives must be more challenging even than ours. They are hunter-gatherers, scavengers roaming from place to place living off canned food and burning whatever they can find to stay warm. But they must be so cold! We hear about them when the large sailing ships are able to navigate their way through the ice floes that have migrated all the way to the equator.

At the end of 2027 there were still two billion humans left on the planet, they say. But the latest estimates now, three years later, are that fewer than a half billion remain. The scientists thought that humans would survive and wait out the hardship and the cold, and use their ingenuity to start again.

That was the third miscalculation.

We humans are inherently and utterly connected to the land. I remember in the pre-war days reading about the collapse of Haiti, where a combination of disasters had killed much of the population, and where almost all the trees in the country, including food trees, had been cut down for burning for warmth. Such madness!, I thought as I read. But now I understand. We have always co-evolved with the land, our home. We are part of the land; it is not our property. Now that we have destroyed the world, destroyed the land, we have destroyed ourselves.

In previous wars, even for those in prison camps, there was a reason to fight, a reason to go on. We had to overcome our shared enemy and rebuild a world that would be a healthy and thriving place for our children.

But now, there is nothing left to fight for. Only a fool would bring children into this devastated world. Every day I hear of the deaths of acquaintances who have just given up the struggle, decided that, even though we have enough food to survive, for now, and we’re told that the climate will eventually improve, that living is just more trouble than it’s worth. When they did the forecasts of human population, they seemed to miss that important fact.

Each of us who are left, mostly, keep and treasure a single gun, with enough bullets to defend ourselves if the gangs attack.

Plus one.

Posted in Creative Works | Comments Off on The Miscalculation

The [Euro]American Empire: Ignorant of the World and Submerged at Home


image from The Daily Show

This is kind of a follow-on from my recent post on Everything Falling Apart, in which I reviewed and compared some cogent writings from Aurélien, Patrick Lawrence and Yanis Varoufakis about the fragmenting of our modern, global, industrial civilization culture. Since I wrote that summary, Aurélien and Patrick have written follow-ups, essentially trying to diagnose why everything is falling apart, and I thought they were worth thinking about.

British historian Aurélien’s newest article is called It’s All About Them, and his thesis is that much of the conflict we are seeing in the world stems from ethnocentrism — a propensity, especially among the Professional Managerial Caste (PMC), to believe that everybody substantially sees the world the same way they do. And that if they don’t, they need to be brought around to doing so, one way or another.

It presumes a cultural superiority and “it can be very dangerous indeed when it is combined with the power to do harm”. And the ethnocentrism of the current Euro-American Empire’s PMC transcends political parties and dominates thinking across the political spectrum in all the Empire’s countries. Even when those parties disagree strongly on social and economic issues, they all see the world through that same narrow, ignorant lens.

Underlying this ethnocentrism, he says, are three largely-unchallenged assumptions:

  1. That most people in the world are Like Us in their beliefs and behaviours, or would be if they were not misinformed or oppressed.
  2. That we understand why the people who are not Like Us are that way, and we know exactly how to correct their misunderstanding and/or oppression.
  3. All international crises and conflicts are ultimately All About Us, and about some peoples’ and governments’ resistance to be Like Us. Even those of us opposed to the Empire’s actions still believe that the behaviours in the rest of the world are essentially All About Us.

He defines the cross-political administration of the western PMC as the Western Security Complex (WSC) — the coalition of western forces, ethnocentric, naive, idealistic, with fragile egos, surrounded by groupthink, and ignorant of history or anything outside their own borders and worldviews. Members of the WSC, which has, he says, low entrance barriers (as long as you’re part of the PMC), presume and are presumed to have expertise to talk, write, advise, and strategize on just about any topic, despite having neither the credentials nor the experience to do so competently. They are subject to the Dunning-Kruger effect (the more ignorant they are, the more wisdom they presume themselves to have, especially on topics on which they have no knowledge or expertise whatsoever). Aurélien goes on:

The result has been the progressive triumph of the WSC discourse, in all its internally-incoherent complexity. Which is fine until the WSC encounters something it cannot understand, but can’t ignore either. Behind the confusion and silliness of much WSC commentary on Ukraine, even by “military experts” and “strategic commentators” is a stubborn refusal to accept that things happen in the world which are outside its frame of reference. From the beginning, the war has been interpreted in terms of what the WSC understands and can talk about: an amalgam of Afghanistan, Iraq and Apocalypse Now. In the end the WSC is unable to imagine a world which is not About Them. It is unthinkable that there should be wars, revolutions and changes of government around the world where the West is not the main actor, and where local and often deep-rooted causes which the WSC cannot understand are the main drivers.

Given these are the people entrusted with the power to launch (and provoke) wars, overthrow foreign governments, and sanction and isolate countries that are not Like Us, it is small wonder that, as global economic and ecological collapse accelerates, we are ignoring these crises entirely and instead charging into (and creating) international political and social crises, in ignorant, childish, and recklessly dangerous ways.

…..

Journalist and foreign correspondent Patrick Lawrence’s latest is called The Undiscovered Country, referring neither to the expression’s use by Shakespeare nor its reuse by Star Trek writers, but rather to the fact that America does not know what it stands for, and neither do Americans. Instead, he says, those in other countries have learned (often the hard way) that what Aurélien would call the PMC and the WSC have never represented ordinary Americans of any political persuasion, and the actions they pursue are often directly contrary to the explicit desires and preferences of the majority of its citizens. (He cites popular support for universal health care and against supplying more arms to Ukraine as examples.) He writes:

We Americans are fortunate in that others are usually able to distinguish between the American people and the American government… We are indeed a fortunate citizenry, considering the so often egregious conduct toward other peoples of those purporting to lead us. People seem to know that what our government does in one or another circumstance is not necessarily a reflection of who we Americans are…

We do not have a government that reflects what we favor at home any more than it does abroad: the kind of society we wish to live in, the “values” we espouse. The world may understand that most of us are not high-handed imperialists, but it does not know much about what, in the positive, we actually are beyond what we are not. At home, corruption, money in politics, obsessions with power, crumbling institutions, and all the rest leave us ever less able to express our public selves in public space. We cannot, if we net all this out, be very sure of who we are. And we owe it to ourselves, and most certainly to others, to know ourselves and learn to act according to who we truly are.

Of course the PMC is all too happy to tell us, amplified by the media they control, who Americans really are and what they should believe, and to pursue a “divide and conquer” strategy to prevent any kind of cohesive alternative to their view of what needs to be done both domestically and internationally.

Is it even possible, he wonders, for divided and manipulated and deceived and befuddled and misinformed Americans to “get their act together” and accept that the PMC does not represent them and find a way to wrest power and control of the American experiment from them? He concludes:

Will we continue indefinitely to live submerged, so to say—an undiscovered country? Or will we come alive again, rediscover ourselves as those before us have done on numerous occasions in response to circumstances different from ours but with some things in common with ours? At home an authentic democracy, abroad, an authentic internationalism… We have lost all sight of our potential, what we are capable of doing—individually and collectively—but I cannot accept that we, any of us, is content in this condition. Robert Putnam’s [Bowling Alone] subtitle, it is worth mentioning, is The Collapse and Revival of American Community. Our better selves, and I will not even argue that we have better selves, will not lie undiscovered indefinitely.

…..

When I read these articles, and the ones I referred to in my earlier post, what most surprised me is that what they are saying is so obvious, but I had never really thought of our situation in these terms. Our ignorance of the world was brought home this week when every one of Canada’s political parties joined in a standing ovation in the House of Commons for a Ukrainian Nazi who fought for Germany in WWII, apparently not aware of the fact that the Russians were the heroes, and were our much-sacrificing allies, in the struggle against German Fascism in WWII.

And our submergence to the will of the PMC and WSC at home and internationally, our learned helplessness and resignation, is brought home again and again with every unchallenged lie in the mainstream media, with every new act of governments to increase oil & gas production, to impoverish and suppress the non-PMC castes (not just the “working class”) by deliberately forcing interest rates and inflationary costs up, to ramp up censorship of critics of the PMC, to subject citizens to the brutal consequences of foreign “sanctions” and embargoes requiring them to deindustrialize their entire economies. And to turn us against each other so they can continue their imperial rule over us without restriction, regardless of whether the Tweedledum PMC or Tweedledee PMC wins the “democratic” election.

This is a horrific tragedy, against the backdrop of civilization’s accelerating collapse, which continues unimpeded. Part of this tragedy is that the PMC are doing their best — they genuinely believe that what they’re doing is in the whole world’s best interest.

Were Shakespeare alive today he could not invent a better plot for a story with an inevitably ghastly ending.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | 3 Comments

More Scenes From a Café: The Body Language Lesson

This is #21 in a series of month-end reflections on the state of the world, and other things that come to mind, as I walk, hike, and explore in my local community. 


our neighbourhood café after dark; my own photo, photoshopped

These days, this body frequently nags me to go to the local café and hang out there for an hour or so. It likes the company of the regular café denizens, likes to get out of the apartment at least once a day, and sees a trip to the café as a reasonable reward for its vigorous daily workout in the gym. Like me, this body is lazy; it has to be motivated to do things. So off we go.

It was a late workout today, so it’s dark when we (this body and I) head off to the café. The streets are busy at 7pm, and so is the café, but it’s a different crowd, a different ambiance from what you see here during the day. The people are walking less hurriedly, and they’re younger and speaking more animatedly. The majority, at this hour, are Persian, and they’re speaking Farsi. The same is true when we enter the café.

Inside, the place is bustling. There are ten occupied tables, and the majority of the conversations are in either Farsi or Korean. As I place my matcha order and take one of the last two empty tables to wait for it to be made, I am listening to a quite large, very-well-dressed group that look to have either recently been to a social gathering together, or are getting ready to go to one. I have no idea what they’re saying, but I’m fluent enough in French to occasionally pick up Farsi ‘loan-words’ from French colonial times.

So I hear mersi (thank you) several times, and trying to parse out the rest of their conversation I’m able to catch Etâzuni (the US) and, as one of them shows off his wool skully, I also hear šâpo (hat). One woman has a package on the table beside her latte, and I think I picked out kâdo (gift). And of course, kâfe, and the Italian loan-words we all use latte and barista. It seems customary in most Asian cultures to always bring a simply-wrapped gift whenever one visits another’s home. It’s a great custom that, unfortunately, beyond the obligatory bottle of wine (which even then is often BYOB), doesn’t seem as common in western cultures.

I hear the word mersi several times, and for a while I ponder why it seems so easy to say thank you in just about every language except English. It’s just two words (and just one in most languages). There are a couple of English language conversations going on in the café, and now I’m listening for those two magic words from them. I don’t hear them. It was a long shot, but still.

And of course while I’m listening for those two words, I start listening for that other magic word, sorry. But I didn’t hear it, either, except once from the barista. And it was a Canadian sorry. Whole wars have been fought, I’m sure, over English-language speakers’ incapacity to use that simple, inexpensive word.

Why is that so, I wonder? Have the damned lawyers ruined the word by warning us that its use can be legally interpreted as an admission of guilt? Does its use betray our secret, inadmissible shame for all the things we are blamed for, and blame ourselves for? Or is it an admission of weakness — a handing over of a weapon to the one we apologize to, that might later be used against us? Are our egos really that fragile?

It’s a fraught word, sorry. It is in a way ambiguous and in a way meaningless. Its root meaning is “feeling sore” [as in ‘he’s in a sorry state after the injury’] or “feeling sorrowful”. But in a way that’s all about the person saying it, not about the person it’s supposedly directed to. Perhaps that’s honest, but it’s not very sympathetic.

So I wondered, how do you say it in Farsi, or in Korean?

I was delighted to find that, in Farsi, it isn’t that simple. You basically have to own up to what you’re sorry for. So there’s a way to say “I won’t do it again.” There’s a way to say “I was wrong (or selfish, or at fault, or responsible) for doing X.” There’s a way to say “I hope you will forgive me.” There’s a way to say “I feel for (or offer condolences for, or can understand) your loss (or suffering, or anger, or reaction).”

Any of these is less ambiguous, less self-preoccupied and more responsible than just “I’m sorry.” They’re more forward-looking, towards what can be done as recompense or to prevent recurrence. And because they’re clearer, there is less wriggle room for later claiming that “When I said I was sorry, that wasn’t what I meant.” Or, even worse “Sorry… that you took what I said (or did!) the wrong way.”

How about in Korean? Well, interestingly, in Korean, the “I’m” in “I’m sorry” is omitted, because it’s considered redundant, and the way in which the words are said can be as critical as the words themselves. There are several variations depending on the identity and status of the addressor and addressee, but there are also two forms, one of which has the implication of accepting having done something wrong, while the other does not — it merely conveys sympathy for what has happened.

No wonder we get into such trouble, in many languages, both when we fail to use these words, and even when we use them!

And then, turning my attention back to the chatter in the café, I hear one of the English-speakers say “excuse me?” in a sarcastic, interrogative tone. I have to laugh.

I have my crossword book out, my excuse for loitering over my one large mug of matcha (A Japanese loan-word, literally meaning ‘ground tea’). I glance up to see what I guess to be two Korean women enter the café and take the empty table next to mine. (My policy, out of respect for the café owners, is to hurry up and leave if at any time there are no vacant tables left in the café, but one of the other groups is leaving, so I hunker back down.) The lilt of the language (short words, no stressed syllables) confirms to me that they are indeed speaking Korean. And the position of their table is perfect for my favourite form of ‘cultural anthropology’ when I don’t understand the language being spoken, namely (subtly, I hope) observing body language.

Before I catch any particular body language from the new duo, I note something in their conversation that seems lacking in both the English and Farsi conversations. Silence. It is clear that long pauses after someone has said something in Korean are appreciated, rather than considered awkward as they often are in English. It shows, I think, that the listener is taking the time to consider what has been said carefully. And to drink their beverage before it gets cold!

When the second woman replies, the first woman listens silently and nods frequently. When I noticed this once before, I had interpreted the nods to be signals of agreement, but I have learned since that they are not. In Korean culture, the nod indicates “I am listening intently”, and does not signal any judgement one way or another about the content of what is being said. I’ve also been told that, out of politeness, Koreans are quite reticent about saying “no”, or about stating explicitly that they disagree with what is being said, so you have to look for subtle, often non-verbal signs of doubt or concern.

I laugh at myself as I realize I haven’t the faintest clue how I would do that, and that even if I learned Korean I would probably suck at it. In Korea there is an important concept called nunchi, which is the ability to quickly take in and size up what is going on in a space, including very nuanced signals, and to respond accordingly. This is valued in personal interactions, social occasions and work environments, and for good reasons. There is some suggestion it can even be a ‘superpower’ for introverts who have excellent attention skills. The thought makes me sigh. We need a lot more of that in the world. I need a lot more of that.

My attention switches back to the large Persian group. Their body language is also somewhat subtler than what I’m used to, which, when you get used to looking for it, is astonishingly revealing, even without a Book of Tells to translate it.

The group displays some body language that I think I understand the meaning of. The hand-over-heart, combined with a slight nod, to indicate agreement, sincerity and/or respect. The hand bumping up under the chin to indicate being fed up. The bunched fingers pointing up, or the two hands repeatedly flipped outward, as expressions of emphasis. These seem to me largely universal signals, and I wonder how they became so.

Not so for some other very common western body language. As noted above, a nod doesn’t necessarily mean agreement, and a sideways shake of the head doesn’t necessarily mean disagreement (nor does its absence necessarily indicate agreement).

I’m glancing over at the Persian group to see if they are nodding or shaking their heads. I don’t see a lot of either gesture. But what I do notice is a bit of Groucho Marx-like eyebrow raising. After two of them, apparently in a serious conversation, have both done it, one accompanied with a kind of backward tilt of the head, I scramble to search my phone’s web browser for a translation. Apparently, it is a subtle, quiet, polite way of saying no!

I’m not close enough to be able to notice the body language conveyed just with the eyes, but I am starting to notice some patterns when it comes to eye contact. And they’re confusing as hell. It seems to be a bit of a balancing act: Direct eye contact can be rude, depending on familiarity, gender, relationship and age. But lack of eye contact can also be considered rude, conveying disinterest or disrespect. And how long you maintain eye contact is also critical to its message and social acceptability.

Another couple comes into the café speaking Farsi, and I am again blown away at how well most people in this café are dressed. The newcomers are both wearing pant-suits with perfect creases and immaculately polished shoes. I’m guessing they might be on a date, or just getting away from the kids for a couple of hours. They don’t hold hands, but as they speak their hands touch often; this is not a casual relationship.

I’m feeling seriously underdressed again, even more so than when I visit this café during the day. My phone’s browser is still open, and I click on a link to learn more. I’m chagrinned to discover, as I sit at my table wearing shorts with my legs stretched out and crossed, that both my attire and my posture would be considered rude in Korea. I pull my legs back under the table and place my feet firmly on the floor, an instinctive act that is one of self-respect rather than of deference. The perils of learning, and of paying attention!

The new couple points to an open table, and I note something that seems common to all Asian cultures — people from these cultures point with their whole hand, never with a finger. And many of their hand actions (not just handshakes) seem to prefer the right hand over the left, or entail the use of both hands (when passing things to another person, I understand it is customary to both give and receive with two hands).

The Persian woman acknowledges the pointing hand with a slight shrug, and they make their way over to that table. Now I’m smiling again — I know nothing about the significance of the shrug in different cultures, other than its use as an iconic French statement. For a few minutes I scan the room looking for more shrugs. I see none, and thinking back I can’t really recall seeing people shrug at all in this café.

So it’s back to my phone browser, and indeed I learn that the shrug is virtually unknown in Chinese, Japanese and Korean cultures. Perhaps this is wise, since it’s another terribly ambiguous gesture (except perhaps when used by the French, in which case there’s no doubt what it means)! It can mean “I don’t know.” Or more dangerously, it can also be interpreted as “I don’t care.” There are several components of the shrug, I learn: Not just the shoulders, but the simultaneous movement of the hands (usually turning them upwards), and the movement of the lips and/or eyebrows. The accompanying actions can often disambiguate the meaning. Shrug in a mirror while thinking “I don’t know.” and then again while thinking “I don’t care.” For most people, there’s a difference. If you’re paying attention. Aaaah!

And it gets worse. Psychologists and criminologists report that when people lie, they often betray themselves, and what they’re actually saying, with a slight shrug-like movement of one shoulder, or the flip of one hand.

…..

Back at home, looking in the mirror as I shrug, and then as I tell untruths to my image, I discover that the body language I think I’m conveying isn’t anything like what I’m actually displaying.

For a start, I’m much less expressive with my face and body than I think I am. I have just noticed, in the mirrored apartment elevator, that what I thought was a pleasant polite smile to others in the elevator actually looks terribly tight-lipped and repressed, probably even insincere, if it’s noticed at all. It’s more, I’m (Canadian) sorry to admit, a grimace! A bit ironic for someone who has often written about the enormous benefits of smiling!

I realize that most of my ‘selfies’ (which I use mainly for blog and podcast ‘portraits’) do not show me smiling, because I look unnatural — it just doesn’t look like me. Although when other people take pictures of me smiling, it does. I also realize, from my zoom sessions, that my sitting posture is lousy, making me look smaller, less fit, less interested, and less attentive. And just now, on the elevator, I noticed that my standing posture also sucks, with the same effect: I’m a slouch.

I resolve that, from now on, at least in ‘public’, I’m going to strive to stand up and sit up better, and to practice making my smile, which is usually perfectly sincere, actually come across as sincere. And maybe even poised, like most of the people I saw this evening. Doubtful plan, I know, but it’s worth a try. One more valuable café lesson.

Many years ago I was just finishing a business lunch on the outside deck of a restaurant, when I spotted my now-ex, who I’d arranged to meet at the conclusion of the lunch. I shook hands and said farewell to my client, who departed. When my ex came over to the table, she said “You were speaking French, weren’t you?” I confessed that, yes, my client was French and parts of our lunch had been conducted in his native language, and replied “How did you know?” She told me that my hands were flying all over the place when I spoke, and that my body language was completely different from when I spoke English.

I still notice this. Even when I’m writing emails in French, my hands automatically jump into action punctuating what I’m writing. Pretty funny to see.

…..

Having done a bit more research, I’m now prepped for my next visit to the Café. I’ve learned about some additional body language that is quite common for Chinese, Japanese and Koreans to exhibit in conversations, that I think I’ve observed but didn’t know quite what to make of. Apparently, laughter can sometimes be used as a means to release discomfort, and smiles to release feelings of shame, in addition to (or even in contradiction of) their usual meaning.

A finger on the forehead can mean “That’s crazy”, rather than “I’m thinking”. In their cultures you beckon someone over by waving with your fingers palm down, not palm up as westerners do. And a slightly raised hand with the pinky finger raised and slightly waving apparently means “I promise”, and can sometimes be followed by a whole ritual of confirming actions to “seal”, convey and “record” the promise.

I’ll be watching.

Posted in Creative Works, Month-End Reflections | 3 Comments

It Takes a Village


bonobo mother playing with her baby; photo by Frans Lanting in the Smithsonian

The word village comes from the PIE root word weik which refers to a clan or tribe — a small group of people that is larger than just a family of relatives.

The expression “It takes a village”, usually followed by “… to raise a child” speaks to the fundamental way in which humans live together. We cannot survive as individuals, no matter how rich and powerful and clever we may be. Our species just doesn’t have the physiology or the individual capacity to do so.

Primate species have a wide variety of social arrangements, depending on what has provided evolutionary success in their biosphere, but the primates closest to us, the bonobos and chimps, almost always associate in what are called fission-fusion communities.

Fission-fusion communities are less cohesive than [other] multi-male multi-female groups [such as those of baboons and macaques]. These groups occupy very large home ranges in which temporary foraging parties cleave and coalesce over time with changes in resource availability and female reproductive condition. These social systems are typically characterized by female dispersal [females leave the group at puberty and join other groups] and male philopatry [males remain with their natal group for life].

There is an obvious resonance and similarity between this bonobo/chimp social organization and that of humans, dating back to our earliest origins. Land and property has often remained with the (usually first-born) male human, and females have to find accommodation elsewhere, usually mating with males from other nearby communities.

Because of the variable fission-fusion nature of the societies of bonobos and chimps, they are not really ‘troops’, which is why the term ‘community’ is usually used to describe them. Chimp and bonobo communities generally vary from 20-80 individuals.

Historically, in most parts of the world, a village is the closest human settlement in size to a chimp or bonobo community. Wikipedia states: “The population of a village varies; the average population can range in the hundreds. Anthropologists regard the number of about 150 members for tribes as the maximum for a functioning human group.” This (quite controversial) maximum number of 150 is famously known as Dunbar’s number.

And hence “it takes a village”, not only to raise a child, but to function effectively and sustainably at all as a human society. Fewer than 20 and you don’t have the diversity needed to reproduce healthily and learn effectively from others. More than 150 and the group loses cohesion and effectively becomes chaotic and ungovernable.

Of course, it takes a lot more than the right number of ‘members’ to constitute a healthy, cohesive, and functional community. Most of us, regardless of what we are used to calling a “community”, have absolutely no idea of what actually building and being in community entails. But here’s a list of some of the qualities I have observed or been told about, that every effective community must have:

  1. Mutual trust
  2. A diversity of skills, knowledge and capacities (“mutually exclusive and collectively exhaustive” to meet all the community’s requirements)
  3. A willingness, and the experience, of the whole group to self-manage
  4. Love and respect for all of the community’s members, including those you don’t particularly like
  5. The will and capacity to collaborate rather than compete with other members
  6. An appreciation of the resources, advantages, limitations and dangers of the specific place where you live
  7. Freedom from chronic debilitating stress
  8. Enough local basic resources to enable the community’s self-sufficiency

On a psychological level, there are additional individual needs that the community has to meet (healthy attachment and capacity for authenticity, a sense of meaning and purpose, possibility of optimism, sufficient attention and appreciation, connection with the natural world etc). The community cannot hope to be healthy if many of its members are ailing or dysfunctional.

How does a community self-organize and self-manage to ensure these requirements are met, so that the community remains caring, cohesive, collaborative and functional?

The simple answer is: practice. There is no formula or rule-book for managing a community, which depends on the community’s ever-evolving culture, preferences, opportunities, appetites, needs, situation, and passions. The sense of community is an emergent phenomenon of its membership and its circumstances.

Why is this important? Because as collapse deepens, our very survival will ultimately depend on our capacity to build and live in community. Fortunately, the collapse we are now going through is a long (relatively-speaking) emergency. We will have time to practice, to learn, to fail, and to start all over again, and again.

We might begin now to identify where we think we want to establish community when the SHTF in our particular part of the world, and who we think we might want to live in community with. But what will ultimately happen in and to our particular little community is unpredictable.

As Tyson Yunkaporta says, the key is not to try to create community by imposing or following any particular ideology, theory or model, but rather to stay adaptable to ever-changing circumstances. We may be looking at multiple long-distance migrations to new and unfamiliar places before our community takes root, and its membership will likely change during those journeys.

That will also mean leaving egos at the door. What one person thinks, believes, or thinks they know, is not going to matter. The building of community, especially among the ruins of a dying civilization, cannot be designed, planned, directed, or conducted. To create a true community, there will first have to be a sense of urgency, since as Joe Bageant often said “Community is born of necessity.” In most places we are not even close to a recognition of its necessity.

And then, once there is a sense of necessity, we will, one way or another, look around and find a way to create a community with those with whom we find ourselves, wherever we may then happen to be. And when we get to that point, ready to self-organize, well, then… it will take a village to make it happen.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | 1 Comment

What Could Go Wrong Next


currency exchange in Somaliland, an unrecognized country within Somalia, from the BBC, photographer Simon Reeve

Collapse is happening more quickly this year, but for most people it’s still happening so slowly as to be hardly noticeable. What will it take to wake people up to what’s going on? And when the next crisis happens, will it be seen as an element of a larger civilizational collapse, or merely as another isolated incident that we need to ‘bounce back’ to ‘normal’ from?

The last major signifier of collapse was, of course, CoVid-19, or perhaps more specifically our utterly incompetent and selfish response to it. Hurricanes, massive forest fires, record heat waves, financial collapses, and the political and economic collapse of individual nations are all still seen by most as ‘isolated’ events that have ‘always happened’. And already the seeming majority view of the pandemic is that it was an embarrassment that hopefully won’t happen again and is now best forgotten.

So, against a background of everything slowly falling apart, what might we see next, that can’t easily be dismissed as an anomaly, but which rather has to be viewed, at least by those paying attention, as a portent?

My reading of history suggests that major economic crises happen more quickly and more often than political, social or ecological crises, so my guess continues to be that the next major turmoil as we slide into collapse is likely to be an economic one.

I should know better than to write down my predictions for the short-term future (though I did correctly predict the Ukraine War), but it is fun to speculate, so here is my guess at the ‘top 3’ possibilities:

1. Partial collapse of the banking system:

Our fragile banking system, and all the financial and economic systems tethered to it, have never recovered from the collapse of 2008, which required trillions of dollars of taxpayer money to prevent total collapse. Having blown the budget on foreign wars, the US and its vassal states have nothing left in the till for another massive bailout.

Almost every bank is overextended with high-risk loans (needed to meet profit targets), and vulnerable to a run by worried depositors, and when banks start refusing to honour deposits to stave off insolvency, trust will evaporate and citizens will look for safer places to park their money. The banking industry’s attempt to move us to a ‘cashless’ banking system, where you cannot take any money out in cash, will accelerate their nervousness.

Without a functioning banking system, governments will have to reestablish public financial institutions, which will entail relearning from scratch how to do so. Without adequate deposits, banks can’t loan money, and they have to call in existing loans. The economic effects could be horrific, and it could take decades for the situation to restabilize.

2. Global currency chaos:

The US is furiously working to prevent the emergence of a multipolar world, because the exorbitant privilege (their adjective, not mine) given to the wildly overvalued US dollar as the global reserve currency would quickly be lost, as countries switched to trade in reasonably-priced reciprocal currencies.

That would lead to a run on the US currency not dissimilar to a run on a bank — the currency would collapse, and without a replacement (even a return to the gold standard would probably no longer work), currency chaos, with wild fluctuations as the speculators (who presently do 95% of all currency trades) desperately try to recompute what value, if any, the rest of the world’s currencies have. It may not get as bad as a return to barter and scrip this time, but for those who deal with, hold assets in, or visit foreign countries, it could be a wild ride.

3. Trade wars leading to hyperinflation and empty shelves:

The US, as part of its attempt to destabilize China and other countries that threaten its economic and (to a slightly lesser extent) political hegemony, is using economic and trade sanctions and economic blockades to try to weaken those countries’ technological, resource and other economic advantages. That plan appears to be failing, as other countries are just reorganizing their manufacturing operations and pivoting to other supply sources and trade partners.

Once the world realizes that the US essentially produces nothing of value except war materials, it may not take that long for trade agreements to be revamped to cut the US out of the picture entirely, since they have nothing to offer except threats, the world’s reserve currency, and an insatiable appetite to consume everything.

There’s even a question about how long the US’ European vassal states will put up with absurdly overpriced US gas and other resources in place of ‘sanctioned’ Russian supplies, a situation which is leading to the disastrous de-industrialization of Europe as it can no longer afford the energy to power its manufacturing industries.

This will all inevitably be hugely disruptive to global supply chains and trade patterns, so our current economies, which are based on just-in-time delivery of everything (for “efficiency” reasons), are likely to seize up. Remember those pictures of people running to the bank with wheelbarrows of cash to exchange it for new bills before inflation makes it worthless? And the huge lineups and empty shelves after the collapse of the Soviet Union? Coming soon, perhaps, to a country near you.

…..

Any of these three crises (which are somewhat related) might easily lead to a broader economic collapse — a major depression that we may never really ‘recover’ from.

There are some other possible near-term crises that I considered adding to this list: immigration wars, cancelled elections, extended major heat waves (much greater than the one in Europe in 2003 that killed 72,000 people), more balkanization of countries as national governments become too unpopular to hold, more natural disasters (like the Indonesian tsunami that killed 250,000 in 2004, or the Haitian earthquake that killed 320,000 in 2010, except this time in a ‘western’ country), and another pandemic (this time most likely an avian flu pandemic, that will wreak havoc on global food supplies). Any of these is quite likely, but they are, I think, less certain that the three economic crises at the top of my list.

Place your bets. Rien ne va plus.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works | 2 Comments

If, When, Now That

This is, like everything, a work of complete and utter fiction.


“Childlike Wonder”, by Midjourney AI; my own prompt

I

If, some morning, this body were to awaken, without a sense of self and separation to reconstruct its worldview and conception of reality, nobody would notice. ‘I’ would not notice, since there would be no ‘I’ to notice. Nothing would have changed. Nothing would change.

If, some afternoon, while walking in the forest by the creek, this belief in being centred in this body, and in control of it, were to suddenly dissolve, the walk would continue, unchanged, and the apparent behaviours and preferences of this body thereafter would remain the same. No one would perceive any difference in what was seemingly happening.

If, late one evening, gazing down from this window at the night city and the night sky, and singing along with the music in the headphones, it suddenly became obvious that there was no one gazing, no one singing, and never had been, the gazing and singing, and the closing of blinds, and preparations for sleep, would continue as they seemingly always had.

“Absolutely.”

…..

II

When, some morning, this body awakens, without a sense of self and separation to reconstruct its worldview and conception of reality, nobody will notice. ‘I’ will not notice, since there will be no ‘I’ to notice. Nothing will have changed. Nothing will change.

When, some afternoon, while walking in the forest by the creek, this belief in being centred in this body, and in control of it, suddenly dissolves, the walk will continue, unchanged, and the apparent behaviours and preferences of this body thereafter will remain the same. No one will perceive any difference in what is seemingly happening.

When, late one evening, gazing down from this window at the night city and the night sky, and singing along with the music in the headphones, it suddenly becomes obvious that there is no one gazing, no one singing, and never has been, the gazing and singing, and the closing of blinds, and preparations for sleep, will continue as they seemingly always have.

“Possibly.”

…..

III

Now that each apparent morning this body awakens without a sense of self and separation to reconstruct its worldview and conception of reality, nobody notices or remembers its absence. There has never been anybody to notice. Nothing has ever actually changed.

Now that there is no one to believe that there was ever anything centred in this body or in control of it, whenever there is an apparent body walking in the forest by the creek, the apparent walking continues and the apparent behaviours and preferences of this body remain just as they seem. There is only what is seemingly happening.

Now that it is obvious that no one has ever gazed down from this apparent window at the night city and the night sky, or sung along with the music in the apparent headphones, the gazing and singing, and the closing of blinds, and preparations for sleep, continue as they seemingly always have.

“Inconceivable.”

Posted in Creative Works, Illusion of the Separate Self and Free Will | 1 Comment

Links of the Month: September 2023


an old cartoon by Michael Leunig, from his fans’ Facebook site.  “What has been lost…”

All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races, going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses, no expression, no expression
Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow, no tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles, it’s a very, very
Mad world, mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good, Happy birthday, happy birthday!
And I feel the way that every child should — sit and listen, sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous, no one knew me, no one knew me
“Hello, teacher! Tell me, what’s my lesson?” Looked right through me, looked right through me

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles, it’s a very, very
Mad world, mad world
Roland Orzabal


COLLAPSE WATCH


wind and solar energy remain an insignificant source of energy, as oil, gas and coal dependence continues unabated; chart from Our World in Data

Collapse goes (briefly) mainstream: CNN actually interviews a climate scientist about collapse without challenging or dismissing his statements.

Why we’re running out of affordable energy: Tim Morgan explains in detail, one more time, the imminent collapse of cheap, affordable energy, which spells the end for industrial civilization.

Badmouthing collapse realism: First it was Rebecca Solnit “doomer-shaming” collapsniks for telling the truth about the inevitability of ecological collapse. Renaee Churches was one of many to reply to her offensive and divisive Guardian article. Then it was Rachel Donald arguing (her word) with her guest, Bill Rees, on the same subject, on her podcast. At least she followed up with an article acknowledging what Rebecca has not — that we have to work together to deal with the climate crisis, not fight among ourselves over how bad it is. Thanks to Indrajit Samarajiva and Paul Heft for the links.

Protection racket: As social collapse deepens, especially among the homeless, sick and poor, the ultra-rich, and even government authorities, are responding by hiring their own private police and security forces. This is not a good sign.

Close to extinction, the first five times: There have been at least five times in the last million years when humans nearly became extinct, all with different causes but all of them related to sudden drastic climate change. The latest study suggests the human population 900,000 years ago dropped to as little as 1,300 people.

Move that shit over here: The Honest Sorcerer describes how much of our non-renewable energy consumption consists of moving goods and materials around to where we are, and explains that that need is expected to triple by 2040. Ain’t going to happen. Thanks to Paul Heft for the link.

“Forests are no longer our friends”: David Wallace-Wells, in a masterful understatement, explains that massive and ubiquitous forest fires have switched our forests from being net carbon sinks to net carbon emitters.

The Maldives as a microcosm of climate collapse: Coming soon to nations everywhere.


LIVING BETTER


‘accommodating’ sculpture by Tuck Langland in the Goshen IN public library; image from the memebrary

How to really address rising crime: Better social supports, instead of more police. Well, duh.

Mutual willing incomprehension: Political detente and peace require a willingness by all ‘sides’ to try to really understand the others — both what they are actually trying to do, and why. This is obvious, but in all our major current conflicts, such willingness, and even capacity, is absent.

Moving from self-help to collective action: The key to achieving change, says the author of this year’s Massey Lectures, is re-learning how to collectively organize to fight existing power structures.

The myths of happiness: Claims that people are happier if they exercise, spend time in nature, pursue “mindfulness/meditation”, and have active social lives, are simply not supported by credible evidence. They’re just psychobabble.

#1 tip for internet content providers: It’s ignore the trolls.


POLITICS AND ECONOMICS AS USUAL


Cartoon by Colombian cartoonist Boligan, from Cartooning for Peace

Corpocracy, Imperialism & Fascism: Short takes (thanks to John Whiting for many of these links):

Propaganda, Censorship, Misinformation and Disinformation: Short takes:

CoVid-19 the Gift That Keeps On Giving: Short takes:


FUN AND INSPIRATION


cartoon by Christopher Weyant in the New Yorker

We owe everything to trees: Fascinating article by Jill Lepore traces our dependence on trees as our homes for most of our time on earth, as our source of fire which was essential to our capacity to migrate from our early forest homes, for our earliest weapons to survive as hunters, for paper and books, and many other purposes. The earliest human age should, she says, be called the Wood Age, as it was more transformative than those named after stone or metals. She describes some of the reasons we might have been forced to abandon these Edenic structures as our homes, but strangely omits the cosmic ray theory, that suggests the forests were all burned several million years ago by an exploding Nova. Thanks to Kavana Tree Bressen for the link.

State security secrets!: A priceless exploration into AI by Thomas Wade, who asked ChatGPT what tactics the US security state could use to undermine, gaslight and control us, and got a list of 500 mind-blowing methods. The list would be falling-down-funny if it weren’t exactly what propagandists and sociopaths (and probably most governments) actually do. Thanks to Peter Webb for the link.

Being adopted by a cat: A charming tale from Indrajit Samarajiva. Some things are the same the world over. 

Things are  not as they seem: Another gem from Indrajit about the nature of reality and the stories we tell about it, inspired by a visit from the tooth fairy.

Abandoning the Big Bang myth: Webb telescope data suggests our mythological stories about the origin of the universe just don’t jibe with the facts. Sadly, our response always seems to be to create an even more complicated story. I’m absolutely convinced that if we gave up storytelling and just accepted, as adults, that we cannot possibly hope to know the true nature of the universe and its origins, it would be a great step forward.

No, there is no new global mental health crisis: There are many surveys and news headlines suggesting the current political and social stresses have created a monstrous new global mental health crisis. But drill down into the data and you’ll find it’s only American youth who are suffering. And a more likely cause of that is their unhealthy addiction to social media.

Mindfulness: The useless billion dollar industry: There is absolutely no credible research that ‘mindfulness’ meditation has any enduring therapeutic value whatsoever, beyond the placebo effect. And no, it doesn’t help you lose weight either.

Headline from the Beaverton (Canadian version of The Onion): “Toronto Goodwill asking people to stop donating Leafs jerseys” (ask a Canadian)

Mitch McConnell’s brief flash of humanity: The moment he had his mini-strokes, or whatever they were, the monster in Mitch briefly disappeared, and a real person appeared. A lovely read.


THOUGHTS OF THE MONTH


“Sadness”, by Midjourney AI. Not my prompt.

From Matt Haig, in The Midnight Library:

Nora had always had a problem accepting herself. From as far back as she could remember, she’d had the sense that she wasn’t enough. Her parents who both had their own insecurities, had encouraged that idea.

She imagined, now, what it would be like to accept herself completely. Every mistake she had ever made. Every mark on her body. Every dream she had ever made. Every dream she hadn’t reached or pain she had felt. Every lust or longing she had suppressed.

She imagined accepting it all. The way she accepted nature. The way she accepted a glacier or a puffin or the breach of a whale.

She imagined seeing herself as just another brilliant freak of nature. Just another sentient animal, trying her best. And in doing so, she imagined what it was like to be free.

From Caitlin Johnstone, on western xenophobia and propaganda and on Hollywood’s copaganda and psyopaganda:

Nothing will shatter your dreams of a broad left-right antiwar coalition faster than publicly opposing US warmongering against both Russia and China simultaneously.

…..

Hollywood overdubs the [wimpy peeps of the] bald eagle with the [more powerful-sounding screech of the] red-tailed hawk in precisely the same way it depicts police officers as spending their time fighting crime, and depicts news reporters as brave muckrakers digging for the truth to expose the wicked and corrupt, and depicts soldiers as heroic defenders of the American people.

From Scott Cook — his latest song “A Bigger Pull” (thanks to Kavana Tree Bressen for the link — song has not yet been released):

I got friends who live in cities with brewpubs and bike lanes
Who got sweet tattoos and charcuterie, and ancient grains
Who seek out the finest, frothiest flat whites and macchiatos
Who eat cheese made out of cashews and CBD gelatos

And I got friends who live in small towns and like to shoot at deer
Who like dogs that like working, who like beer that tastes like beer
Who say yes sir, and thank you ma’am, and even God bless y’all
Who castrate and brand and have a testicle festival

And where my city friends are careful with the language that they use
Some of my country friends just get a kick out of trampling on taboos
But if I call and tell ’em I’m broke down, they’ll be there in an instant
My city friends would ask, “don’t you have roadside assistance?”

I got friends who give their kids names like Leaf and Tree and Arlo
Who feel like their fellow grownups failed the grownups of tomorrow
And I got friends who give their kids names like Colton and Shelby
Who think teachin”em to respect the flag and their elders is healthy

I got friends who go to seminars and ayahuasca retreats
Who might spill their deepest secrets to the kindred souls they meet
And I got friends who don’t say a lot, but mean everything they say
Who believed every word of Scripture (’til their daughter turned out gay)

I’ve seen forests of culture flattened by the money machine
All the houses with Black Lives Matter signs and no black folks to be seen
And I got friends who’d never hunt or fish but love their surf and turf
And me, I’m burning diesel drivin’ ’round singing songs to save the Earth

Sometimes it hurts to hear my friends talk about some of my other friends
Like everything that’s going wrong has somehow got to do with them
As if they’re so completely different they just can’t be understood
As if one side’s all bad and the other side’s all good

But from a certain angle they look similar to me
Whether they get worked up by Fox News or MSNBC
I’m not saying there aren’t real concerns, no, everybody’s got ’em
Just that it’s less about the left and right than the top against the bottom

‘Cause a few folks aim to own the world and they’re well on their way
And no matter what crisis comes, they’ll make sure they’re okay
They’ll short-sell and hedge and make profit from misery
If they wanna catch a bunch of fruit they just gotta shake the tree

Well, the left I loved was punk rock and Food Not Bombs
Now it’s cancelling comedians and policing language norms
Greenwashing corporations with whatever’s on brand
With the fresh new hell they’re dreaming up in Davos Switzerland

Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it with less of a smirk
That our Grandpas fought the fascists and built all the public works?
Back when unions gave us weekends, faced the bosses and their thugs
How come now it seems so joyless, censorious and smug?

With an ever-narrowing circle who think just like we do
We went from we are the 99% to we are the chosen few
If we’re gonna move the needle, if we even have a chance
What’ll it take to make all us snowflakes into an avalanche?

And didn’t conservative used to mean careful and considered
Rather than racing to sell off everything to the highest bidder
Weren’t lying and cheating condemned in the Bible
Didn’t there used to be a wheat pool to keep the farmers viable?

Is there something wrong with public roads, the library and post office?
And who really thinks it’s a good idea to run prisons for a profit?
Now we all believe in freedom, what about the freedom to live?
And not to go bankrupt buying medicine for your kids?

There ain’t no one who’s just one thing, there ain’t nothin’ uncomplicated
There ain’t one without the other, man, we’re all interrelated
We belong to one another, we drink from the same cup
Stop throwing punches at each other and start punching up

Fortune favours the fortunate, it don’t trickle down
Gonna need most of us paddling to turn this ship around
Gonna need a tent big enough to fit most of us inside
Gonna need a bigger pull to turn the tide

From Confucius: “The hardest thing of all is to find a black cat in a dark room, especially if there is no cat.”


Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | 4 Comments

Everything Falling Apart: Three Perspectives


my own diagram of what Jim Kunstler calls “The Long Emergency” — a gradual multi-stage collapse over an extended period

Aurélien, Patrick Lawrence and Yanis Varoufakis are IMO three of the most astute observers of our modern, global, industrial civilization culture. It is now pretty apparent that collapse of that culture is well underway, and no longer just the looming danger I’ve been writing about for twenty years.

These three writers have all recently written “state of the world” articles from very different perspectives. They’re all well worth reading and thinking about. I thought it might be useful to summarize, contrast and comment on them. The common thread of all of them might be “everything slowly falling apart”. That’s perhaps an excellent descriptor of this, the first of the three phases of each stage of collapse. The disintegration phase.

…..

Aurélien’s contribution is called, aptly enough, “Going to Pieces Slowly“. The British historian, diplomat, and cultural analyst (now based in France) writes:

Given the many developing crises that are jostling for priority now, social breakdown, either self-generated, or more likely a consequence of multiple economic or environmental and health crises, may well not be far away. In fact social breakdown is perhaps already here, even if, as William Gibson might say, it’s not evenly distributed… People accept the legitimacy and authority of the state as much out of habit and collective self-protection as anything else. So the kind of decay in state legitimacy that we are now starting to see is less likely to lead to violent conflict, than to a kind of sour apathy and disengagement, and a search for some [group that can fill the power vacuum or some] way of making up for what the state can’t do. There are parts of the world where you can see this in action…

No western country has remotely the internal security forces required to defeat a serious massed challenge to the legitimacy of the state, because so much depends on unspoken social contracts between the governors and the governed. But supposing that starts to break down?… We forget the extent to which it is safe to go out into the streets precisely because the vast majority of people never think about smashing their way into a supermarket and looting the goods, or attacking police or firemen. But this is only a convention and, beyond a certain point, if too many people decide to disobey it, there is nothing much that the authorities can do…

For the first time in modern western history, there are no groups with organisations and ideologies waiting in the wings [when civil order breaks down], either to launch a struggle for power, or to profit from a power vacuum.

Aurélien goes on to explain that the crumbling of political and social system legitimacy would immediately have knock-on economic effects that would amplify political and social unrest: the collapse of investment, currency and housing markets, massive disruption of food and energy supply chains, degraded road and public transport and communication infrastructure, and a surge in organized crime. This is where the slide into chaos begins, and we’d be wise, he says, to study some African, Latin American and Asian countries where this has already happened, to see what may come next.

…..

Patrick Lawrence’s new piece, entitled “Psychology & Disorder“, is a history of American Exceptionalism, describing the history of that unique ideology that runs right across the political spectrum, and has now, like one of those pathetic western-supplied tanks rotting in the fields of Eastern Ukraine, run out of ammunition and fuel. In the text of a speech he gave to a Swiss conference on multipolarity, the American author, foreign correspondent and globe-trotting university lecturer writes:

Little that America has done, from the earliest settlements and the Quaker hangings in the late seventeenth century to its nineteenth century wars, expansions, and annexations, to its anti–Communist crusades in the last century, to Vietnam, and all the coups and interventions in the post–1945 decades: To grasp all of this fully we must see the underlying, driving psychology… All of these events, disparate as they are as historical phenomena, arise from the same consciousness: They are all part of the same root phenomenon. And all of this goes, it hardly bears mentioning, for all that we witness now: The cruelly inhumane proxy war in Ukraine, the dangerously provocative encirclement of China, America’s unruly conduct in the Middle East, in Latin America—America’s claim to exceptionalism lies behind all of this…

After the débacle of the Vietnam War, Ronald Reagan’s [subsequent] feat was to persuade an entire nation, or most of it, that it was all right to pretend: All was affect and imagery. He licensed Americans to avoid facing the truth of defeat and failure and of professed principle betrayed. He demonstrated in his words and demeanor that greatness could be acted out even after it was lost as spectacularly as it had been in Indochina.

This is the exceptionalism whose many destructive consequences we now witness. It is an ideology whose most peculiar feature is that it is subliminally understood to be exhausted and that it rests in large measure on denial. No American political figure would dare now to speak sensibly against the exceptionalist orthodoxy. This is ever more the case as the orthodoxy becomes more obviously hollow, more detached from perfectly discernible realities…

[In her essay “Ideology and Terror Hannah Arendt notes that ideologies] replace thought with belief, so obviating the need for ideological believers to indulge in the act of thinking—to respond with rational judgment to events and circumstances. Another [of ideologies’ consequences] is the effect of isolation. Ideologies are in one dimension boundaries, and one stands on either side of these. Those inside these boundaries share a bond made of allegiances of which no one else can partake. Those outside these boundaries are simply excluded: They are Others. The implied separation is sometimes much more than psychological, but it is psychological before it is anything else.

Americans [in addition to now being politically isolated from much of the world], are also isolated from others psychologically, and I would say this is also in direct consequence of their claim to be exceptional. Like all ideologues, and here I will make a generality I am prepared to defend, Americans, by and large, would much rather believe than think. This in itself tends to leave Americans isolated, because he who believes but cannot think is incapable of relating to the world… We trap ourselves within a fantasy of eternal superiority and triumph. So we cannot hope to speak the same language as the rest of the world, and we don’t. We do not see events the same way. We do not react to events in the same way. We do not calculate the same paths forward.

Patrick sees little evidence that the US, and its perpetually-governing Professional Managerial Caste in particular, are either willing or able to abandon the bankrupt idea of American exceptionalism, which has propelled us to the brink of nuclear annihilation, and is now largely driving the slowly accelerating economic, political, social and ecological collapse we are now trying to contend with. And as long as this insane ideological belief, rather than rational, evidence-based thought, is what is directing the decisions of those in power, what hope do we have of even softening the blows of collapse before we plunge into the chaotic phase?

…..

Yanus Varoufakis has just written “Technofeudalism Has Just Arrived“, a look at how massive inequality, the demise of democracy, the de facto privatization of the internet, and horrific financial and economic mismanagement, have combined to produce a dramatic shift in the dynamics of power, and has hence shifted the global economy from a capitalist one to a ‘neo-feudal’ one. In the introduction to his new book, the Greek-Australian economist, professor and former parliamentarian writes:

What has happened over the last two decades is that profit and markets have been evicted from the epicentre of our economic and social system, pushed out to its margins, and replaced. With what? Markets, the medium of capitalism, have been replaced by digital trading platforms which look like, but are not, markets, and are better understood as [private] fiefdoms. And profit, the engine of capitalism, has been replaced with its feudal predecessor: rent. Specifically, it is a form of rent that must be paid for access to those platforms and to the cloud more broadly. I call it cloud-rent.

As a result, real power today resides not with the owners of traditional capital, such as machinery, buildings, railway and phone networks, or industrial robots. They continue to extract profits from workers, from waged labour, but they are not in charge as they once were. They have become vassals in relation to a new class of feudal overlord, the owners of cloud capital. As for the rest of us, we have returned to our former status as serfs, contributing to the wealth and power of the new ruling class with our unpaid labour – in addition to the waged labour we perform, when we get the chance.

Yanis asserts that it is essential that we understand this new economic power dynamic in order to grapple effectively with the personal, political, economic, social and ecological challenges we are facing. Although the book has not yet been published, judging from its detailed table of contents, its key ideas will be familiar to readers and viewers of his writings and speeches.

He argues that the US acted as a “Global Minotaur” that used its economic and political power from 1945 through 2008 to essentially repatriate all the proceeds of global production back to the US, despite the fact the US is a massive debtor nation that produces essentially nothing of value (except munitions). But the financial collapse of 2008 brought about the end of the “Minotaur” and opened up the opportunity for the power shift to the private technofeudalists who now control global commerce through ownership of their online ‘platforms’ (their fiefs), and who are indifferent to ‘profits’ because they get their ‘rents’ from both producers and consumers (users) of their platforms.

He attributes the new US hostility to China to the fact that China’s technological advancements (and possibly their superiority) threaten the technofeudalists’ oligopoly over platforms and rents, and hence their wealth and power. And he argues that the Ukraine war, with its crippling economic sanctions and massive theft of non-westerners’ bank deposits, is largely an economic war rather than a political one. The losers in both wars, he says, are Europeans, the Global South, and our ravaged planet.

As an idealist, his answer to these problems is perhaps not surprising: He wants the internet to be de-privatized and reconstituted as a public commons. He wants corporations and currencies to be democratized, repurposed to serve the public good. He wants land to be returned to what it was before the foreclosures — a public commons. I would love to believe that was all possible, but you probably won’t be surprised to hear that I do not. Good diagnosis, though.

…..

So we have the gradual acceleration of global political, social and economic collapse, with no group likely to be able to fill the power vacuum as the world slides more quickly into chaos. And we have only poorer nations, ahead of us on the curve, to study for clues as to how that chaos is going to unfold.

We have an Empire that remains deluded about its ideology to the point that it is in denial about everything happening in the world except what it sees as immediate threats to its supremacy and exceptionalist beliefs, and which is pushing for multiple wars against nuclear armed countries in ‘defence’ of those beliefs.

And we have an economic system that has quietly replaced unregulated capitalism with an even more insidious and destructive private neo-feudal order that views the world’s consumers as its ‘product’ and the world’s producers as its renters, and is completely agnostic to social, labour, economic and ecological abuse.

Sounds like everything slowly falling apart, all right.

Posted in Collapse Watch, How the World Really Works, Our Culture / Ourselves | 3 Comments