Archive for the ‘Environment’ Category

I don’t have the patience or expertise to prepare and offer a detailed political analysis such as those I sometimes (not very often) read on other blogs. Besides, once the comments start filling up at those sites, every possible permutation is trotted out, muddying the initial or preferred interpretation with alternatives that make at least as much sense. They’re interesting brainstorming sessions, but I have to wonder what is accomplished.

My own back-of-the-envelope analysis is much simpler and probably no closer to (or farther from) being correct, what with everything being open to dispute. So the new POTUS was born in 1946, which puts the bulk of his boyhood in the 1950s, overlapping with the Eisenhower Administration. That period has lots of attributes, but the most significant (IMO), which would impact an adolescent, was the U.S. economy launching into the stratosphere, largely on the back of the manufacturing sector (e.g., automobiles, airplanes, TVs, etc.), and creating the American middle class. The interstate highway system also dates from that decade. Secondarily, there was a strong but misplaced sense of American moral leadership (one might also say authority or superiority), since we took (too much) credit for winning WWII.

However, it wasn’t great for everyone. Racism, misogyny, and other forms of bigotry were open and virulent. Still, if one was lucky to be a white, middle class male, things were arguably about as good as they would get, which many remember rather fondly, either through rose-colored glasses or otherwise. POTUS as a boy wasn’t middle class, but the culture around him supported a worldview that he embodies even now. He’s also never been an industrialist, but he is a real estate developer (some would say slumlord) and media figure, and his models are taken from the 1950s.

The decade of my boyhood was the 1970s, which were the Nixon, Ford, and Carter Administrations. Everyone could sense the wheels were already coming off the bus, and white male entitlement was far diminished from previous decades. The Rust Belt was already a thing. Like children from the 1950s forward, however, I spent a lot of time in front of the TV. Much of it was goofy fun such as Gilligan’s Island, The Brady Bunch, and interestingly enough, Happy Days. It was innocent stuff. What are the chances that, as a boy plopped in front of the TV, POTUS would have seen the show below (excerpted) and taken special notice considering that the character shares his surname?

Snopes confirms that this a real episode from the TV show Trackdown. Not nearly as innocent as the shows I watched. The coincidences that the character is a con man, promises to build a wall, and claims to be the only person who can save the town are eerie, to say the least. Could that TV show be lodged in the back of POTUS’ brain, along with so many other boyhood memories, misremembered and revised the way memory tends to do?

Some have said that the great economic expansion of the 1950s and 60s was an anomaly. A constellation of conditions configured to produce an historical effect, a Golden Era by some reckonings, that cannot be repeated. We simply cannot return to an industrial or manufacturing economy that had once (arguably) made America great. And besides, the attempt would accelerate the collapse of the ecosystem, which is already in free fall. Yet that appears to be the intention of POTUS, whose early regression to childhood is a threat to us all.

The last traffic report observed the 10-year anniversary of this blog. For this traffic report, I am on the cusp of achieving another significant threshold: 1,000 subscribers (just five more to go). A while back, I tried (without success) to discourage others from subscribing to this blog in hopes that it would provide responsive traffic. Since then, more than 700 new subscribers have appeared, many of them commercial blogs hawking things like photography, technology services (especially SEO), fashion, and celebrity gossip. I used to at least have one look at them, but I no longer do. The most incongruent (to those who are familiar with the themes of this blog) are the testimonial blogs in praise of (someone’s) god. If I could unsubscribe others on my end, I probably would; but alas, my basic WordPress blog does not have that feature.

So what besides the almost 1,000 subscribers has occurred here since the last report? Not a whole lot besides my regular handwringing about things still wrong in the world. There was that small matter of the U.S. presidential election, which garnered some of my attention, but that really falls within the wider context of the U.S. destroying itself in fits and starts, or even more generally, the world destroying itself in fits and starts. More than usual, I’ve reblogged and updated several old posts, usually with the suffix redux. I haven’t had any multipart blogs exploring ideas at length.

The Numbers

Total posts (not counting this one) are 474. Unique visitors are 22,017. Daily hits (views) range from 10 to 60 or so. Total hits are 95,081. Annual hits had climbed to about 12,500 in 2013 but have since declined steadily. The most-viewed post by far continues to be Scheler’s Hierarchy, with most of the traffic coming from the Philippines.

Doom Never Dies

Whereas the so-called greatest story ever told refers to Jesus for most people, I think the most important story ever told (and ignored) is how we humans drove the planet into the Sixth Extinction and in the process killed ourselves. I find more and more people simply acknowledging the truth of climate change (though not yet NTE) even as Republicans continue to deny it aggressively. Now that Republicans will control both houses of Congress and the White House (debatable whether Trump is truly a Republican), those already convinced expect not just an acceleration of weather-related calamity but accelerated stoking of the engine powering it. I leave you with this relevant quote from an article in Harper’s called “The Priest in the Trees“:

What must die is the materialist worldview in which physical reality is viewed as just stuff: “The world is not merely physical matter we can manipulate any damn way we please.” The result of that outlook is not just a spiritual death but a real, grisly, on-the-cross kind of death. “We are erecting that cross even now,” he said.

Addendum

A meaningless milestone (for me at least), but a milestone nonetheless:

1000-followers

In what has become a predictable status quo, President Obama recently renewed our official state of emergency with respect to the so-called War on Terror. It’s far too late to declare a new normal; we’ve been in this holding pattern for 16 years now. The article linked above provides this useful context:

There are now 32 states of national emergency pending in the United States, with the oldest being a 1979 emergency declared by President Jimmy Carter to impose sanctions during the Iran hostage crisis. Most are used to impose economic sanctions — mostly as a formality, because Congress requires it under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act.

In his term in office, Obama has declared 13 new emergencies, continued 21 declared by his predecessors and revoked just two, which imposed sanctions on Liberia and Russia.

Pro forma renewal of multiple states of national emergency is comparable to the 55-year-old U.S. embargo against Cuba, due for reauthorization next month, though indications are that the embargo may finally be relaxed or deauthorized. Both are examples of miserably failed policy, but they confer a semblance of power on the executive branch. Everyone knows by now that no one relinquishes power willingly, so Obama, like chief executives before him, keeps on keeping on ad nauseum.

Considering Obama’s credential as a Constitutional scholar, relatively unique among U.S. presidents, one might expect him to weigh his options with greater circumspection and with an eye toward restoring suspended civil liberties. However, he has shown little interest in doing so (as far as I know). In combination with the election only a couple months away, the U.S. appears to be in a position similar to Germany in 1932 — ready and willing to elect a despot (take your pick …) and continue its slide into fascism. Can’t even imagine avoiding that outcome now.

The surprising number of ongoing emergencies makes me point to James Howard Kunstler and his book The Long Emergency (2006). Though I haven’t read the book (I’m a failed doomer, I suppose), my understanding is that his prediction of a looming and lingering emergency is based on two intertwined factors currently playing out in geopolitics: peak oil and global warming. (“Climate change” is now preferred over “global warming.”) Those two dire threats (and the California drought) have faded somewhat from the headlines, partially due to fatigue, replaced primarily by terrorism and economic stresses, but the dangers never went away. Melting icecaps and glaciers are probably the clearest incontrovertible indications of anthropogenic global warming, which is poised to trigger nonlinear climate change and hasten the Sixth Extinction. We don’t know when, precisely, though time is growing short. Similarly, reports on energy production and consumption are subject to considerable falsification in the public sphere, making it impossible to know just how close in time we are to a new energy crisis. That inevitability has also been the target of a disinformation campaign, but even a rudimentary understanding of scientific principles is sufficient to enable clear thinkers to penetrate the fog.

I have no plans to return to doom blogging with any vigor. One emergency stacked upon the next, ready to collapse in a cascade of woe, has defeated me, and I have zero expectation that any real, meaningful response can be formulated and executed, especially while we are distracted with terrorism and creeping fascism.

The holiday weekend (July 4th) is one of several spots on the calendar given to unusual crowd formation as events ranging from barbecues, concerts, parades, festivals, and fireworks displays invite multitudes to assemble. The combo concert/fireworks display is perhaps the most well attended, as the fetish for watching shit blow up never flags. The Taste of Chicago is about to begin and is a notable example of severe overcrowding; the pics on the website do not show sun-baked, sweaty, overfed attendees elbowing each other for room to move or just to stand still and eat, but that’s been my experience. In honor of their 100-year anniversaryOutside Magazine also devoted a recent issue to the National Parks, which are setting attendance records. I’ve written before about the self-defeating result of drawing unmanageable crowds together. Consider this frightening image of a crowded beach in China, which is a frequent problem around our overpopulated globe:

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The question comes up with some regularity: “Where were you when …?” What goes in place of the ellipsis has changed with the generations. For my parents, it was the (first) Kennedy assassination (1963). For my siblings and chronological peers, it was first the Three Mile Island accident (1979) and then the Challenger disaster (1986). For almost everyone since, it’s been the September 11 attacks (2001), though a generation lacking memory of those events is now entering adulthood. These examples are admittedly taken from mainstream U.S. culture. If one lives elsewhere, it might be the Mexico City earthquake (1985), the Chernobyl disaster (1986), the Indonesian tsunami (2004), the Haitian earthquake (2010), the Fukushima disaster (2011), or any number of other candidates populating the calendar. Even within the U.S., other more local events might take on greater significance, such as Hurricane Katrina (2005) along the Gulf Coast or Hurricane Iniki (1992) in Hawaii, the latter of which gives September 11 a very different meaning for those who suffered through it.

What these events all have in common is partially a loss of innocence (particularly the man-made disasters) and a feeling of suspended animation while events are sorted out and news is processed. I remember with clarity how the TV news went into full disaster mode for the Challenger disaster, which proved to be the ridiculous template for later events, including 9/11. Most of the coverage was denial of the obvious and arrant speculation, but the event itself was captivating enough that journalists escaped wholesale condemnation they plainly deserved. The “where were you?” question is usually answered with the moment one became aware of some signal event, such as “I was on the bus” or “I was eating dinner.” News vectors changed dramatically from 1986 to 2001, as two relatively arbitrary points of comparison within my lifetime. Being jarred out of complacency and perceiving the world suddenly as a rather dangerous place hardly expresses the weird wait-and-see response most of us experience in the wake of disaster.

Hurricanes typically come with a narrow warning, but other events strike without clear expectation — except perhaps in terms of their inevitability. That inevitability informs expectations of further earthquakes (e.g., San Andreas and New Madrid faults) and volcanic eruptions (e.g., the Yellowstone supervolcano), though the predictive margin of error can be hundreds or even thousands of years. My more immediate concern is with avoidable man-made disasters that are lined up to fall like a series of dominoes. As with natural disasters, we’re all basically sitting ducks, completely vulnerable to what armed mayhem may arise. But rather than enter into suspended animation in the wake of events, current political, financial, and ecological conditions find me metaphorically ducking for cover in expectation of the inevitable blow(s). Frankly, I’ve been expecting political and financial crack-ups for years, and current events demonstrate extremely heightened risk. (Everyone seems to be asking which will be worse: a Trump or Clinton presidency? No one believes either candidate can guide us successfully through the labyrinth.) A tandem event (highly likely, in my view) could easily trigger a crisis of significant magnitude, given the combination of violent hyperbole and thin operational tolerance for business as usual. I surmise that anyone who offers the line “may you live in interesting times” has a poor understanding of what’s truly in store for us. What happens with full-on industrial collapse is even harder to contemplate.

Today is the 10-year anniversary of the opening of this blog. As a result, there is a pretty sizeable backblog should anyone decide to wade in. As mentioned in my first post, I only opened this blog to get posting privileges at a group blog I admired because it functioned more like a discussion than a broadcast. The group blog died of attrition years ago, yet here I am 10 years later still writing my personal blog (which isn’t really about me).

Social media lives and dies by the numbers, and mine are deplorable. Annual traffic has ranged from about 6,800 to about 12,500 hits, much of which I’m convinced is mere background noise and bot traffic. Cumulative hits number about 90,140, and unique visitors are about 19,350, neither of which is anything to crow about for a blog of this duration. My subscriber count continues to climb pointlessly, now resting at 745. However, I judge I might have only a half dozen regular readers and perhaps half again as many commentators. I’ve never earned a cent for my effort, nor am I likely to ever put up a Patreon link or similar goad for donations. All of which only demonstrate that almost no one cares what I have to write about. C’est la vie. I don’t write for that purpose and frankly wouldn’t know what to write about if I were trying to drive numbers.

So if you have read my blog, what are some of the thing you might have gathered from me? Here’s an incomplete synopsis:

  • Torture is unspeakably bad. History is full of devices, methodologies, and torturers, but we learned sometime in the course of two 20th-century world wars that nothing justifies it. Nevertheless, it continues to occur with surprising relish, and those who still torture (or want to) are criminally insane.
  • Skyscrapers are awesomely tall examples of technical brilliance, exuberance, audacity, and hubris. Better expressions of techno-utopian, look-mom-no-hands, self-defeating narcissism can scarcely be found. Yet they continue to be built at a feverish pace. The 2008 financial collapse stalled and/or doomed a few projects, but we’re back to game on.
  • Classical music, despite record budgets for performing ensembles, has lost its bid for anything resembling cultural and artistic relevance by turning itself into a museum (performing primarily works of long-dead composers) and abandoning emotional expression in favor of technical perfection, which is probably an accurate embodiment of the spirit of the times. There is arguably not a single living composer who has become a household name since Aaron Copland, who died in 1990 but was really well-known in the 1940s and 50s.
  • We’re doomed — not in any routine sense of the word having to do with individual mortality but in the sense of Near-Term (Human) Extinction (NTE). The idea is not widely accepted in the least, and the arguments are too lengthy to repeat (and unlikely to convince). However, for those few able to decipher it, the writing is on the wall.
  • American culture is a constantly moving target, difficult to define and describe, but its principal features are only getting uglier as time wears on. Resurgent racism, nationalism, and misogyny make clear that while some strides have been made, these attitudes were only driven underground for a while. Similarly, colonialism never really died but morphed into a new version (globalization) that escapes criticism from the masses, because, well, goodies.
  • Human consciousness — another moving target — is cratering (again) after 3,000–5,000 years. We have become hollow men, play actors, projecting false consciousness without core identity or meaning. This cannot be sensed or assessed easily from the first-person perspective.
  • Electronic media makes us tools. The gleaming attractions of sterile perfection and pseudo-sociability have hoodwinked most of the public into relinquishing privacy and intellectual autonomy in exchange for the equivalent of Huxley’s soma. This also cannot be sensed or assessed easily from the first-person perspective.
  • Electoral politics is a game played by the oligarchy for chumps. Although the end results are not always foreseeable (Jeb!), the narrow range of options voters are given (lesser of evils, the devil you know …) guarantees that fundamental change in our dysfunctional style of government will not occur without first burning the house down. After a long period of abstention, I voted in the last few elections, but my heart isn’t really in it.
  • Cinema’s infatuation with superheros and bankable franchises (large overlap there) signals that, like other institutions mentioned above, it has grown aged and sclerotic. Despite large budgets and impressive receipts (the former often over $100 million and the latter now in the billions for blockbusters) and considerable technical prowess, cinema has lost its ability to be anything more than popcorn entertainment for adolescent fanboys (of all ages).

This is admittedly a pretty sour list. Positive, worthwhile manifestations of the human experience are still out there, but they tend to be private, modest, and infrequent. I still enjoy a successful meal cooked in my own kitchen. I still train for and race in triathlons. I still perform music. I still make new friends. But each of these examples is also marred by corruptions that penetrate everything we do. Perhaps it’s always been so, and as I, too, age, I become increasingly aware of inescapable distortions that can no longer be overcome with innocence, ambition, energy, and doublethink. My plan is to continue writing the blog until it feels like a burden, at which point I’ll stop. But for now, there’s too much to think and write about, albeit at my own leisurely pace.

I found a curious blog post called “Stupid Things People Do When Their Society Breaks Down” at a website called alt-market.com, which has a subheading that reads “Sovereignty • Integrity • Prosperity.” I haven’t delved far at all into the site, but it appears to offer alternative news and advice for preppers. The blog post uses the terms liberty activists and preparedness-minded, the first of which I found a little self-congratulatory. Existence of anarchist movements, which include The Liberty Movement (mentioned in the comments at the site), have been known to me for some time, but my personal response to the prospect (indeed, inevitability) of collapse does not fit with theirs. Quoted below are the introductory paragraph, headings (seven stupid things referred to in the title), and truncated blurbs behind each (apologies for the long quote). My comments follow.

A frequent mistake that many people make when considering the concept of social or economic collapse is to imagine how people and groups will behave tomorrow based on how people behave today. It is, though, extremely difficult to predict human behavior in the face of terminal chaos. What we might expect, or what Hollywood fantasy might showcase for entertainment purposes, may not be what actually happens when society breaks down.

They Do Nothing. It’s sad to say, but the majority of people, regardless of the time or place in history, have a bad habit of ignoring the obvious.

They Sabotage Themselves With Paranoia. Even in the early stages of a social breakdown when infrastructure is still operational, paranoia among individuals and groups can spread like a poison.

They Become Shaky And Unreliable When The Going Gets Tough. This is why early organization is so important; it gives you time to learn the limitations and failings of the people around you before the SHTF.

They Become Hotheads And Tyrants. On the other side of the coin, there are those individuals who believe that if they can control everything and everyone in their vicinity then this will somehow mitigate the chaos of the world around them. They are people who secretly harbor fantasies of being kings during collapse.

They Become Political Extremists. Throughout most modern collapses, two politically extreme ideologies tend to bubble to the surface — communism and fascism. Both come from the same root psychosis, the psychosis of collectivism.

They Become Religious Zealots. Zealotry is essentially fanaticism to the point of complete moral ambiguity. Everyone who does not believe the way the zealot believes is the “other,” and the other is an enemy that must be annihilated.

They Abandon Their Moral Compass. Morally relative people when discovered are usually the first to be routed out or the first to die in survival situations because they cannot be trusted. No one wants to cooperate with them except perhaps other morally relative people.

Despite my basic disagreement that it’s possible to prepare effectively anymore for industrial collapse (or indeed that survival is necessarily a desirable thing in a collapse scenario), the advice seems to me pretty solid given the caveat that it’s “extremely difficult to predict human behavior in the face of terminal chaos.” However, they’re all negative lessons. One can certainly learn from the mistakes of history and attempt to avoid repeating them. (We have a predictably poor track record of learning from historical mistakes.) It may well be a case of hindsight bias that what looks perfectly clear from past examples can be used as a sort of template for best-laid-plans for both the process and aftermath of what may well be (by the article’s own admission) a protracted phase of social unrest and breakdown.

That said, let me argue just one thing, namely, why it may not be stupid (as the article opines rather flatly) after all to do nothing in preparation for rather foreseeable difficulties. Long answer short, it simply won’t matter. Whatever the precipitating event or process, the collapse of industrial civilization, unlike previous civilizational collapses, will be global. Moreover, it will be accompanied by ecological collapse and a global extinction event (process) on par with at least five previous mass extinctions. The world will thus be wrecked for human habitation on anything but the shortest additional term over those who perish at the outset. This is before one takes into account climate change (already underway but could become abrupt and nonlinear at any time) and the inevitable irradiation of the planet when 400+ nuclear sites go critical.

It’s not unusual for me to be accused of a convenient fatalism, of doing nothing because the alternative (doing something) is too difficult. That accusation sticks, of course; I won’t dispute it. However, my reading of trends guarantees the impossibility of stalling, much less reversing, our current trajectory and further suggests that the window of opportunity closed approximately forty years ago during the oil crisis and ecology movement of the 1970s. I would certainly throw my weight, influence, and effort (which are for all practical purposes nil) behind doing what is still possible to undo the worst instances of human corruption and despoliation. In addition, it seems to me worthwhile to map out what it would mean to meet our collective doom with grace, integrity, and yes, grim determination. That’s not doing nothing, but I’ve seen remarkably little discussion of those possible responses. What I see plenty of instead is a combination of bunker mentality and irrational desire for righteous punishment of perpetual enemies as we each cross death’s door. Both are desperate last hurrahs, final expressions of human frailty in the face of intractable and unfathomable loss. These, too, are the false promises of the last crop of presidential hopefuls, who ought to know quite well that presiding over collapse might just be worst possible vantage point, possessed of the full power of the state yet unable to overcome the force of momentum created by our own history.

I remember that sinking feeling when the Deepwater Horizon oil well blew out in April 2010 and gushed oil into the Gulf of Mexico for 87 days at an estimated rate of 62,000 barrels per day (9,900 m3/d) until it was reportedly capped (but may not have been fully contained). That feeling was more intense than the disgust I felt at discovering the existence of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch (and subsequently others in the Atlantic and Indian Oceans). For reasons that make no particular sense, slo-mo ecological disasters in the oceans didn’t sicken me as much as high-speed despoliation of the Gulf. More recently, I’ve been at a loss, unable to process things, actually, at two new high-speed calamities: the contaminated tap water flowing from public waterworks in Flint, MI, and the methane leak from an underground well in the Porter Ranch neighborhood of Los Angeles, CA (no links provided, search for yourself). Whereas the first two examples turned my stomach at the mere knowledge, the second two are quite literally sickening people.

These examples could be part of a daily diet of stomach-churning news if I had the nerve to gather further examples. Indeed, the doomer sites I habituate at intervals (no longer daily) gather them together for me. As with the examples above, many are industrial chemical spills and contamination; others are animal and plant populations dying en masse (e.g., bee colony collapse disorder); yet others are severe weather events (e.g., the California drought) on the rise due to the onset of climate change (which has yet to go nonlinear). Miserable examples keep piling up, yet business as usual continues while it can. Death tolls are difficult to assess, but at present, they appear to be impacting nonhuman species with greater ferocity thus far. Some characterize this as Mother Nature doing her necessary work by gradually removing the plant and animal species on which humans depend as the very top apex predator. That means eventually removing us, too. I don’t care for such a romantic anthropomorphism. Rather, I observe that we humans are doing damage to the natural world and to ourselves in perhaps the slowest slo-mo disaster, the most likely endpoint being near-term extinction.

As much, then, as the alarm has been sounding adequately with respect to high-speed disasters stemming from human greed, incompetence, and frailty, I find that even worse calamity awaiting us has yet to penetrate the popular mind. Admittedly, it’s awfully hard to get one’s head around: the extinction of the human species. Those who resign themselves to speaking the truth of inevitability are still characterized as kooks, wackos, conspiracy mongers, and worse, leaders of death cults. From my resigned side of the fence, proper characterization appears to be the very opposite: those who actively ruin nature for profit and power are the death cult leaders, while those who prophesy doom are merely run-of-the-mill Cassandras. The ranks of the latter, BTW, seem to be gaining while critical thought still exists in small, isolated oases.

I get exasperated when I read someone insisting dogmatically upon ideological purity. No such purity exists, as we are all participants, in varying degrees, in the characteristics of global civilization. One of those characteristics is the thermodynamic cycle of energy use and consumption that gradually depletes available energy. The Second Law guarantees depletion, typically over cosmological time frames, but we are seeing it manifest over human history as EROI decreases dramatically since the start of the fossil fuel era. So playing gotcha by arguing, for instance, “You use electricity, too, right? Therefore, you have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do with electricity!” is laughably childish. Or put another way, if even an inkling of agreement exists that maybe we should conserve, forgo needless waste, and accept some discomfort and hardship, then it’s typically “you first” whenever the issue is raised in the public sphere.

In a risible article published at Townhall.com, Michelle Malkin calls the Pope a hypocrite for having added his authority to what scientists and environmentalists have been saying: we face civilization-ending dangers from having fouled our own nest, or “our common home” as the Pope calls it. As though that disrespect were not yet enough, Malkin also tells the Pope essentially to shut it:

If the pontiff truly believes “excessive consumption” of modern conveniences is causing evil “climate change,” will he be shutting down and returning the multi-million-dollar system Carrier generously gifted to the Vatican Museums?

If not, I suggest, with all due respect, that Pope Francis do humanity a favor and refrain from blowing any more hot air unless he’s willing to stew in his own.

The disclaimer “with all due respect” does nothing to ease the audacity of a notorious ideologue columnist picking a fight over bogus principles with the leader of the world’s largest church, who (I might add) is slowly regaining some of the respect the Catholic Church lost over the past few scandalous decades. I suspect Malkin is guilelessly earnest in the things she writes and found a handy opportunity to promote the techno-triumphalist book she researched and wrote for Mercury Ink (owned by Glenn Beck). However, I have no trouble ignoring her completely, since she clearly can’t think straight.

Plenty of other controversy followed in the wake of the latest papal encyclical, Laudato Si. That’s to be expected, I suppose, but religious considerations and gotcha arguments aside, the Pope is well within the scope of his official concern to sound the alarm alongside the scientific community that was once synonymous with the Church before they separated. If indeed Pope Francis has concluded that we really are in the midst of both an environmental disaster and a mass extinction (again, more process than event), it’s a good thing that he’s bearing witness. Doomers like me believe it’s too little, too late, and that our fate is already sealed, but there will be lots of ministry needed when human die-offs get rolling. Don’t bother seeking any sort of grace from Michelle Malkin.

Following up the idea of resource consumption discussed in this post, I stumbled across this infographic (click on graphic for full-size version):

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The infographic wasn’t published on Earth Day (April 22), but it might should have been. Also, concern with what starting date to use when naming the current geological epoch after ourselves (the Anthropocene), while perhaps interesting, is more than a little self-congratulatory — but in the darkest sense, since we wrecked everything. I have nothing further to say about the futility of naming a geological epoch after ourselves considering how it marks our self-annihilation and soon enough no one will be left to know or care.

Let me describe briefly what else the infographic shows. In the extremely tiny slice of geological time (1760–2010 CE) shown along the x-axis, we have been on a gradually rising trend of consumption (measured by human population, air pollution, energy use, large dams, and more recently, number of motor vehicles), which is mirrored by a decreasing trend in available resources (measured in tropical forest area and number of species). The author, Haisam Hussein, notes that around 1950, trends began a steep acceleration (in both directions), which have not yet reached their limits. Of course, there are limits, despite what ideologues may say.

To recharacterize in slightly more recognizable terms, let’s say that the entire human population is the equivalent of Easter Islanders back in the day when they were cutting down now-extinct Rapa Nui palms as part of their ongoing project of building monuments to themselves. The main difference is that the whole planet stands in for Easter Island. And instead of palm trees, let’s say our signature resource is a money tree, because, after all, money makes the world go around and it grows on trees. Easter Island was completely forested up to about 1200 CE but became treeless by around 1650 CE. The trend was unmistakable, and the mind boggles now (hindsight being 20/20) at what must have been going on in the minds of the islanders who cut down the last tree. Here’s the equally obvious part: the planet (the money tree) is also a bounded (finite) ecosystem, though larger than Easter Island, and we’re in the process of harvesting it as fast as we can go because, don’t ya know, there’s profit to be made — something quite different from having enough to live comfortable, meaningful lives.

So we’re not yet down to our final tree, but we’re accelerating toward that eventuality. It’s unclear, too, what number of trees constitutes a viable population for reproductive purposes. When considering the entire planet as an interlocking ecosystem, the question might be better posed as the number of species needed to maintain the lives of, say, large mammals like us. Aggregate human activity keeps whittling away at those species. Of course, the last money tree isn’t a physical tree like the Rapa Nui palm; it’s a social construct where ROI on continued mining, drilling, manufacturing, harvesting, building, paving, transportation, distribution, etc. runs its course and all profit-making activity comes to a screeching halt. The so-called shale oil miracle that promised eventual U.S. energy independence only a few moons ago has already busted (it was going to anyway as production tailed off quickly) and job losses keep piling up (tens and hundreds of thousands worldwide). Consider that a small, inconsequential brake on accelerating trends. Where things get really interesting is when that bust/halt spreads to every sector and food/energy supplies are no longer available in your neighborhood, or possibly, just about anywhere unless you grow your own food well away from population centers.

Virtually every failed bygone civilization provides evidence that we, too, will proceed doing what we’re doing heedlessly: cutting down trees until at last there are no more. Again, the mind boggles: what could possibly be going on in the minds of those holding the reins of power and who know where we’re headed (to oblivion) yet keep us pointed there steadfastly? And why don’t more of us regular folks also know our trajectory and take to task our leaders for failing to divert from our trip into the dustbin of history?