Posts Tagged ‘Climate Change’

Watched Soylent Green (1973) a few days ago for the first time since boyhood. The movie is based on a book by Richard Fleischer (which I haven’t read) and oddly enough has not yet been remade. How to categorize the film within familiar genres is tricky. Science fiction? Disaster? Dystopia? Police procedural? It checks all those boxes. Chief messages, considering its early 70s origin, are pollution and overpopulation, though global warming is also mentioned less pressingly. The opening montage looks surprisingly like what Godfrey Reggio did much better with Koyaanisqatsi (1982).

Soylent Green is set in 2022 — only a few months away now but a relatively remote future in 1973 — and the Earth is badly overpopulated, environmentally degraded, overheated, and struggling to support teeming billions mostly jammed into cities. Details are sketchy, and only old people can remember a time when the biosphere remained intact; whatever disaster had occurred was already long ago. Science fiction and futuristic films are often judged improperly by how correct prophecies turn out in reality, as though enjoyment were based on fidelity to reality. Soylent Green fares well in that respect despite its clunky, dated, 70s production design. Vehicles, computer screens, phones, wardrobe, and décor are all, shall we say, quaintly vintage. But consider this: had collapse occurred in the 70s, who’s to say that cellphones, flat screens, and the Internet would ever have been developed? Maybe the U.S. (and the world) would have been stalled in the 70s much the way Cuba is stuck in the 50s (when the monumentally dumb, ongoing U.S. embargo commenced).

The film’s star is Charlton Heston, who had established himself as a handsomely bankable lead in science fiction, disaster, and dystopian films (e.g., The Omega Man and The Planet of the Apes series). Though serviceable, his portrayal is remarkably plain, revealing Heston as a poor man’s Sean Connery or John Wayne (both far more charismatic contemporaries of Heston’s even in lousy films). In Soylent Green, Heston plays Detective Robert Thorn, though he’s mostly called “Thorn” onscreen. Other characters below the age of 65 or so also go by only one name. They all grew up after real foodstuffs (the titular Soylent Green being a synthetic wafer reputedly made out of plankton — the most palatable of three colors) and creature comforts became exceedingly scarce and expensive. Oldsters are given the respect of first and last names. Thorn investigates the assassination of a high-ranking industrialist to its well-known conspiratorial conclusion (hardly a spoiler anymore) in that iconic line at the very end of the film: “Soylent Green is people!” Seems industrialists, to keep people fed, are making food of human corpses. That eventual revelation drives the investigation and the film forward, a device far tamer than today’s amped up action thrillers where, for instance, a mere snap of the fingers can magically wipe out or restore half of the universe. Once the truth is proclaimed by Thorn (after first being teased whispered into a couple ears), the movie ends rather abruptly. That’s also what makes it a police procedural set in a disastrous, dystopic, science-fiction future stuck distinctively in the past: once the crime/riddle is solved, the story and film are over with no dénouement whatsoever.

Some of the details of the film, entirely pedestrian to modern audiences, are modestly enjoyable throwbacks. For instance, today’s penchant for memes and slang renaming of commonplace things is employed in Soylent Green. The catchphrase “Tuesday is Soylent Green Day” appears but is not overdriven. A jar of strawberries costs “150D,” which I first thought might be future currency in the form of debits or demerits but is probably just short for dollars. Front end loaders used for crowd control are called “scoops.” High-end apartment building rentals come furnished with live-in girls (prostitutes or gold-diggers, really) known as Furniture Girls. OTOH, decidedly 70s-era trash trucks (design hasn’t really changed much) are not emblazoned with the corporate name or logo of the Soylent Corporation (why not?). Similarly, (1) dressing the proles in dull, gray work clothes and brimless caps, (2) having them sleep on stairways or church refuges piled on top of each other so that characters have to step gingerly through them, (3) being so crammed together in protest when the Tuesday ration of Soylent Green runs short that they can’t avoid the scoops, (4) dripped blood clearly made of thick, oversaturated paint (at least on the DVD), and (5) a sepia haze covering daytime outdoor scenes are fairly lazy nods to world building on a low budget. None of this is particularly high-concept filmmaking, though the restraint is appreciated. The sole meme (entirely unprepared) that should have been better deployed is “going home,” a euphemism for reporting voluntarily to a processing plant (into Soylent Green, of course) at the end of one’s suffering life. Those who volunteer are shown 30 minutes of scenes, projected on a 360-degree theater that envelops the viewer, depicting the beauty and grandeur of nature before it had disappeared. This final grace offered to people (rather needlessly) serves the environmental message of the film well and could have been “driven home” a bit harder.

Like other aspects of the film’s back story, how agriculture systems collapsed is largely omitted. Perhaps such details (conjecture) are in the book. The film suggests persistent heat (no seasons), and accordingly, character are made to look like they never stop sweating. Scientific projections of how global warming will manifest do in fact point to hothouse Earth, though seasons will still occur in temperate latitudes. Because such changes normally occur in geological time, it’s an exceedingly slow process compared to human history and activity. Expert inquiry into the subject prophesied long ago that human activity would trigger and accelerate the transition. How long it will take is still unknown, but industrial civilization is definitely on that trajectory and human have done little since the 70s to curb self-destructive appetites or behaviors — except of course talk, which in the end is just more hot air. Moreover, dystopian science fiction has shifted over the decades away from self-recrimination to a long, seemingly endless stream of superheros fighting crime (and sometimes aliens). Considering film is entertainment meant to be enjoyed, the self-serious messages embedded in so many 70s-era disaster films warning us of human hubris are out of fashion. Instead, superpowers and supersuits rule cinema, transforming formerly uplifting science-fiction properties such as Star Trek into hypermilitaristic stories of interstellar social collapse. Soylent Green is a grim reminder that we once knew better, even in our entertainments.

This article at Scientific American argues in support of a fundamental change to its style sheet. A style sheet, for the uninitiated, is a guide to how a publication presents its output, including formatting, commonly used spellings, and preferred grammar. For instance, should ordinals (i.e., 1st, 2nd, 3rd, etc.) be raised? Or should web be capitalized when referring to the World Wide Web? The change Scientific American just adopted is dropping the term climate change in favor of climate emergency. Well, good for Scientific American, I guess. My lack of enthusiasm or urgency — the very urgency signaled by the revised term now that the emergency is upon us (um, has been for decades already if one thinks in terms of geological or evolutionary time rather than mere decades of human history) — stems not from the truthfulness or effectiveness of the arguments but by my assessment that the problem is flatly unsolvable at this late date and that, as a global civilization, we’re doing almost nothing to combat it anyway. That’s been the case since the basic problem swung into public view in the 1970s, and it’s been the case since James Howard Kunstler published The Long Emergency in 2006.

Climate emergency deniers have claimed that recent volcanic eruptions in the Caribbean, Iceland, and Hawaii have erased or nullified all the efforts by humans to stem the release of greenhouse gases from industrial activity. According to this link, that’s comparing apples and oranges: peak volcanic activity vs. a sliver of human activity. Since 1750 (a conventional start date of the Industrial Revolution), it’s human activity driving the climate emergency, not volcanic activity. Moreover, industrial activity shows no signs of abating, at least until is all creaks to a halt when the infernal machine will no longer crank. The blocked Suez Canal and deep freeze in Texas both remind how fragile industrial infrastructure is; just wait for a Carrington Event to fry everything at once. This link explains human carbon emissions (also mentions volcanoes), which continues to increase in volume every single year. (This past year might (might!) be an anomaly due to the pandemic, but things are already ramping back up.) And besides, humans can’t control volcanoes (did someone suggest dropping nukes in them to “seal them up”?) We can’t even control ourselves.

Some while back, I purged from my blogroll all the doom links and determined that industrial civilization is in its death throes, so why bother blogging about it anymore? Similarly, the last time I cited the Doomsday Clock in January 2020, it was (metaphorically) 100 seconds to midnight. The Clock today still sits at that harrowing eve of destruction, and I didn’t link to the January 2021 statement, which includes discussions of the novel coronavirus, nuclear threats, and climate change (the older term), summarizing them together as a wake-up call. Really? So now it’s time to get serious? Nope, don’t think so. The proper time is long past due, the catastrophic future is already locked in, and we’ve been steadfastly pretending there is nothing to see (so that there will eventually be nothing to do — a self-fulfilling prophecy). It’s merely unknown when members of the human species begin dropping like flies.

On the heels of a series of snowstorms, ice storms, and deep freezes (mid-Feb. 2021) that have inundated North America and knocked out power to millions of households and businesses, I couldn’t help but to notice inane remarks and single-pane comics to the effect “wish we had some global warming now!” Definitely, things are looking distinctly apocalyptic as folks struggle with deprivation, hardship, and existential threats. However, the common mistake here is to substitute one thing for another, failing to distinguish weather from climate.

National attention is focused on Texas, expected to be declared a disaster zone by Pres. Biden once he visits (a flyover, one suspects) to survey and assess the damage. It’s impossible to say that current events are without precedent. Texas has been in the cross-hairs for decades, suffering repeated droughts, floods, fires, and hurricanes that used to be prefixed by 50-year or 100-year. One or another is now occurring practically every year, which is exactly what climate chaos delivers. And in case the deep freeze and busted water pipes all over Texas appear to have been unpredictable, this very thing happened in Arizona in 2011. Might have been a shot across the bow for Texas to learn from and prepare, but its self-reliant, gun-totin’, freedom-lovin’ (fuck, yeah!), secessionist character is instead demonstrated by having its own electrical grid covering most of the state, separated from other North American power grids, ostensibly to skirt federal regulations. Whether that makes Texas’ grid more or less vulnerable to catastrophic failure is an open question, but events of the past week tested it sorely. It failed badly. People literally froze to death as a result. Some reports indicate Texas was mere moments away from an even greater failure that would have meant months to rebuild and reestablish electrical service. A substantial diaspora would have ensued, essentially meaning more climate refugees.

So where’s the evil in this? Well, let me tell you. Knowledge that we humans are on track to extirpate ourselves via ongoing industrial activity has been reported and ignored for generations. Guy McPherson’s essay “Extinction Foretold, Extinction Ignored” has this to say at the outset:

The warnings I will mention in this short essay were hardly the first ones about climate catastrophe likely to result from burning fossil fuels. A little time with your favorite online search engine will take you to George Perkins Marsh sounding the alarm in 1847, Svente Arrhenius’s relevant journal article in 1896, Richard Nixon’s knowledge in 1969, and young versions of Al Gore, Carl Sagan, and James Hansen testifying before the United States Congress in the 1980s. There is more, of course, all ignored for a few dollars in a few pockets. [links in original]

My personal acquaintance with this large body of knowledge began accumulating in 2007 or so. Others with decision-making capacity have known for much, much longer. Yet short-term motivations shoved aside responsible planning and preparation that is precisely the warrant of governments at all levels, especially, say, the U.S. Department of Energy. Sure, climate change is reported as controversy, or worse, as conspiracy, but in my experience, only a few individuals are willing to speak the obvious truth. They are often branded kooks. Institutions dither, distract, and even issue gag orders to, oh, I dunno, prop up real estate values in south Florida soon to be underwater. I’ve suggested repeatedly that U.S. leaders and institutions should be acting to manage contraction and alleviate suffering best as possible, knowing that civilization will fail anyway. To pretend otherwise and guarantee — no — drive us toward worst-case scenarios is just plain evil. Of course, the megalomania of a few tech billionaires who mistakenly believe they can engineer around society’s biggest problems is just as bad.

Writ small (there’s a phrase no one uses denoting narrowing scope), meaning at a scale less than anthropogenic climate change (a/k/a unwitting geoengineering), American society has struggled to prioritize guns vs. butter for over a century. The profiteering military-industrial complex has clearly won that debate, leaving infrastructure projects, such as bridge and road systems and public utilities, woefully underfunded and extremely vulnerable to market forces. Refusal to recognize public health as a right or public good demanding a national health system (like other developed countries have) qualifies as well. As inflated Pentagon budgets reveal, the U.S. never lacks money to oppress, fight, and kill those outside the U.S. Inside the U.S., however, cities and states fall into ruin, and American society is allowed to slowly unwind for lack of support. Should we withdraw militarily from the world stage and focus on domestic needs, such as homelessness and joblessness? Undoubtedly. Would that leave us open to attack or invasion (other than the demographic invasion of immigrants seeking refuge in the U.S.)? Highly doubtful. Other countries have their own domestic issues to manage and would probably appreciate a cessation of interference and intervention from the U.S. One might accuse me of substituting one thing for another, as I accused others at top, but the guns-vs.-butter debate is well established. Should be obvious that it’s preferable to prioritize caring for our own society rather than devoting so much of our limited time and resources to destroying others.

Supporting the Vietnam war was dumb. Supporting the Iraq invasion after being lied
to about Vietnam was an order of magnitude dumber. Supporting any US war agendas
after being lied to about Iraq is an order of magnitude even dumber than that.
—Caitlin Johnstone

Upon rereading, and with the advantage of modest hindsight, I think I got it exactly correct in this 5-year-old blog post. Even the two brief comments are correct. More specifically, the United States is understood to be the sole remaining military superpower following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. Never mind that numerous countries count themselves members of the nuclear club (cue Groucho Marx joke) and thus possess sufficient power to destroy the world. Never mind that the U.S. failed to win the Korean War or the Vietnam War (the two major U.S. military involvements post-WWII), or in fact any of numerous 21st-century wars (undeclared, de facto, continuing). Never mind that the U.S. has been successful at multiple smaller regime-change actions, often on the back of a civil war instigated by the U.S. and purposefully designed to install a puppet leader. And never mind that the capitalist competition for control of economic resources and capture of perpetual growth is being won handily by China. Nope, the U.S. is no longer the only superpower but is instead busy transitioning from superpower (military and economic) to failed state. Or in the language of that old blog post, the U.S. is now a geopolitical Strong/Stupid hybrid but is actively deploying stupidity in a feverish play to be merely Stupid. The weirdest aspect, perhaps, is that it’s being done right in front of god and everybody, yet few bother to take notice.

It’s no stretch to assert that in the U.S. in particular (but also true of nearly every regime across the world), we’re piling stupidity upon stupidity. If I were inclined to go full conspiracy like some QAnon fool, I’d have to say that the power elite have adopted a deep, 3D-chess strategy that means one of two possible things using the Rock-Paper-Scissors power dynamic algorithm (which, unlike tic-tac-toe, produces a winner) modified and inverted to Strong-Stupid-Smart: it’s either (1) very Smart of them to appear so Stupid, granting victory (against all appearances) over Strong (but only Strong in a three-legged contest), or (2) they reject the algorithm entirely in the misguided belief that nuthin’ beats stoopid. That second option would indeed be entirely consistent with Stupid.

Take for instance three looming issues: the pandemic (and its follow-on effects), the U.S. presidential election (ugh, sorry, it’s unavoidable), and climate change. They loom threateningly despite being well underway already. But with each, we’ve acted and behaved very stupidly, stunningly so I would argue, boxing ourselves in and doing worse damage over time than if we had taken proper steps early on. But as suggested in a previous blog post, the truth is that decision-makers haven’t really even tried to address these issues with the purpose of solving, resolving, winning, remedying, or ameliorating entirely predictable outcomes. Rather, issues are being either swept under the rug (ignored with the futile hope that they will go away or resolve themselves on their own) or displaced in time for someone else to handle. This second option occurs quite a lot, which is also known as kicking the can down the road or stealing from the future (as with sovereign debt). What happens when there’s no more future (for humans and their institutions, anyway) because it’s been squandered in the present? You already know the answer(s) to that question.

Our society fixates on Nazi Germany with such masturbatory fascination because it allows
us to pretend that horrific mass-scale evil is just something that was inflicted in the past, by someone
else, in another part of the world, and not right here and now by our own government.
—Caitlin Johnstone

Johnstone continues to impress with her ability to concentrate a variety of ideological traits and behaviors into a succinct aphorism, though the one above isn’t especially short. Nazis are the canonical example of fixation, of course, but perusal of recent history indicates any number of others standing in today for yesteryear’s Nazis, e.g., Soviets/Russians, Islamofascists, and Chinese. U.S. thought leaders are sloppy that way. Fixation on others functions as an acute distancing (from ourselves) and distraction mechanism to avoid any discomfiting self-examination we might undertake, as well as to provide scapegoats for negative identity that drives American psychosis. We’re not alone in that regard.

National identity is not the primary subject of this blog post, however. It’s how the United States (in particular, but the rest of the world in the wake of its example) has become a shit show of mismanagement and dysfunction, or put another way, how the U.S. has become a failed state. Quite an accomplishment considering that, for at least a little while longer, the U.S. is the world’s hegemon.

Have a look at this list of the federal executive departments and their chiefs:

  • Dept. of State — Secretary Mike Pompeo
  • Dept. of Treasury — Secretary Steven Mnuchin
  • Dept. of Defense — Secretary Dr. Mark T. Esper
  • Dept. of Justice — Attorney General William P. Barr
  • Dept. of Interior — Secretary David Bernhardt
  • Dept. of Agriculture (USDA) — Secretary Sonny Perdue III
  • Dept. of Commerce — Secretary Wilbur L. Ross, Jr.
  • Dept. of Labor — Secretary Eugene Scalia
  • Dept. of Health and Human Services (HHS) — Secretary Alex Azar
  • Dept. of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) — Secretary Ben Carson
  • Dept. of Transportation (DOT) — Secretary Elaine Chao
  • Dept. of Energy (DOE) — Secretary Rick Perry
  • Dept. of Education — Secretary Betsy DeVos
  • Dept. of Veterans Affairs (VA) — Secretary Robert Wilkie
  • Dept. of Homeland Security — Acting Secretary Chad Wolf

Budgets for these departments range from just under $10 billion to nearly $1.3 trillion, covering most of areas of American life outside of entertainment (including the arts, sports, games, and what some argue is the preeminent art form during lockdown, streaming TV). Of those chiefs above, the most infamous ones are known because they’re embroiled in ongoing controversy or were appointed to dismantle the department itself — a cynical Republican strategy to ruin, not run, various government activities. A blurb behind each one demonstrating its most abject failure would be relatively easy to compile, but I demur. Instead, here’s a cogent example: James Howard Kunstler’s assessment of the death of education. Another example is a YouTube video called “Seattle is Dying,” a local news documentary from March 2019 (well before the pandemic) about how homelessness is ruining Seattle. People literally living and dying in the streets had been in mind when this was published a couple days ago:

Clearly, the situation in Seattle (and indeed, every American city) is poised to get very much worse. The U.S. is a failed state, yet our elected government is driving it further into the ground. As bad as everything is now, amidst a global pandemic, unemployment and homelessness spiking unprecedentedly, debt being piled onto taxpayers to keep asset prices high (read: to keep the wealthy whole), and what Caitlin Johnstone calls a slo-mo war against those few countries not yet absorbed into the U.S. empire’s power nexus, there is still that other looming catastrophe going largely ignored: climate change. Xray Mike came back to life at his blog (where I used to post as well) to remind that things around the world are still every bit as awful (and worsening) as one could imagine:

As governments stared glass-eyed at what was unfolding in China earlier this year, the fragility of modern life’s interconnectedness was soon to be laid bare by a microscopic organism. Within a couple months of the onset of the coronavirus pandemic, airline travel from China had spread the novel virus to more than 60 countries. Despite decades of warnings about the inevitability of such an event, politicians had paid about as much lip service to preventing the next pandemic as they had to dealing with climate change. As has been warned by health experts, the best we can hope for is to blunt the effects of the COVID-19 disease on the global population; eradicating it will be futile. Something similar could be said of the legacy effects of our CO2 emissions which will haunt life on Earth for time immemorial. [underlying links removed]

We are not just a failed state but a failed civilization. But hey, vote for one of the two stooges offered by the failed two-party system in the sham presidential election in two months. How could it possibly get any worse?

The previous version of this blog post was about flora and fauna dying off and/or being driven to endangerment and extinction by direct and indirect effects of human activity, and on the flip side, collective human inactivity to stop or forestall the worst effects. Indeed, removal and rollback of environmental restrictions and regulations hasten the ongoing ecocide. This version is about three more things disappearing right before our eyes like some sort of macabre magic act: American jobs, American businesses, and civil society.

Job losses stemming from the Covid-19 pandemic and government-mandated shut-downs and quarantines have been reported ad nauseum, as have mounting deaths. No need to cite the numbers. To call this disappearance of people from the streets and workplaces sickening is a redundancy. Despite an immediate Federal response (by the Fed) to prop up the stock market (a literal entity) but not main street (a figurative entity), businesses both large and small are now performing this same disappearing act. Again, no need to cite the numbers, which are worsening continuously. It’s impossible to predict what will be left after this destructive phase runs its course. I don’t expect it to be creative destruction (also the name of the defunct group blog where I got my start blogging). In the meantime, however, plenty of price gougers, vultures, scammers, and opportunists seek to exploit new capitalist dynamics. As the unemployed and disenfranchised are further reduced to penury, many have taken to the streets to demand change. While the inciting incident was yet another unarmed black man killed by police in the course of his arrest, the wider context of unrest in the streets is the utterly preposterous level of wealth and income inequality. Two short-lived sovereign zones in Seattle and Portland (declared and undeclared, respectively) attest to a lack of confidence in state authority and fraying rule of law. Federal law enforcement officers disappearing protesters from the street speaks volumes regarding how the citizenry is regarded by politicians. The looming wave of evictions, foreclosures, and bankruptcies also promise to overwhelm civil society and prove the illegitimacy of our current government.

The connection between one set of disappearing acts and the next should be obvious, as we humans rely upon the natural world for our very survival. The modern industrial world, especially in those societies organized around capitalism, has been at war with nature (ecocide), extracting far more than necessary for a balanced, respectable life. Instead, wanton accumulation and self-aggrandizement (read: ballin’) are commonplace, at least for those who can. In the process, we’ve made ourselves vulnerable to even modest perturbations of this hypercomplex style of social organization. Well, surprise! The war on nature is no longer taking place over there, socially distanced, out of sight and out of mind; the war has come home. Nature struck back, blindly demanding a return to equilibrium. The disappearing act turns out to be part of a much larger balancing act. However, processes we humans initiated make impossible any such return except perhaps over evolutionary time. For the foreseeable future, the only paved path is toward unfathomable loss.

Regular readers of this blog understand that for a decade plus, my thinking has been darkened and clouded by impending disaster regarding multiple, interlocking dilemmas: epistemological crisis, social disintegration, periodic financial crashes impoverishing tens of millions of people at a time, ecological collapse and mass extinction stemming from climate change, and at least two bits of irrational mischief (an obvious euphemism) before we all take a dirt nap and the human species goes extinct alongside most others. The first bit of mischief is the doomsday sort, meaning that, in keeping with dystopian, fictional narratives being reliable predictions of actuality, recognition that our time is severely limited will enable some psychopath with his or her finger on the button to rationalize “We’re all nearly spent, so fuck it. Let’s first convert some large portion of the Middle East into a sheet of glass.” Once mutually assured destruction (MAD) is loosed, the second bit will be to convert the entire globe into a lifeless sphere. No doubt this is a worst case scenario, but the necessary dominoes are lined up and ready to topple, and 2020 has already handed us several severe perturbations to make the endgame more likely with each passing disastrous month. It hasn’t quite happened yet and outcomes may take years or decades to fully manifest. Still, eternal optimists offer hope in defiance of reason that we can still rescue ourselves from self-defeat; I’m not so sanguine.

My conclusion (drawn more than once) that the world has again fallen into madness is the central point here. Whereas previous instances were major disruptions leading to political regime change, world wars, genocides, etc., each eventually concluded and what life remained went on. This iteration could well be different. My warning is not perpetual fearmongering that politicians practice. Electoral politics keep raising specters of insecurity to be solved by each incoming administration but then never manage to be resolved. Indeed, that’s the condition of our industrial, technocratic civilization: processes and problems have grown too massive, intractable, and instititionalized to be managed even in sane and stable times. Rather, my warning is about understanding death stalking us best as possible. I also offer no solutions.

Over the years, I’ve written several multipart series of posts that address my conclusion directly and many more one-offs that nibble at the margins. The main ones are The Frailty of Reason, Dissolving Reality, and Pre-Extinction Follies, all (IMO) worth a read. As I contemplate our situation in mid-2020, I had in mind to write another multipart series but have found myself unable to gather disparate thoughts under one cohesive theme or title. So I’ve decided to break with my own habits and instead offer this preview of drafts already begun — at least insofar as I can map them now.

  • Unitary Consciousness. My rumination on the misapplication of the scientific method’s divide-and-conquer strategy for understanding reality and the mind.
  • Making Sense and Sensemaking. An exploration of fascinating yet frustrating attempts to draw conclusions about the world we inhabit.
  • Align Your Ideology! A survey of historical instances of madness overtaking us at the level of whole nations or societies.

Much as I would prefer to tie these together under one title, nothing coalesced in my thinking to allow for tight integration. Nor do I have an order or schedule in mind. I’ll chip away at it, more for my own purposes than to achieve influence or notoriety. All the same, posts will be published here for whatever value you may garner.

I’ll try to be relatively brief, since I’ve been blogging about industrial and ecological collapse for more than a decade. Jeff Gibbs released a new documentary called Planet of the Humans (sideways nod to the dystopian movie franchises Planet of the Apes — as though humans aren’t also apes). Gibbs gets top billing as the director, but this is clearly a Michael Moore film, who gets secondary billing as the executing producer. The film includes many of Moore’s established eccentricities, minus the humor, and is basically an exposé on greenwashing: the tendency of government agencies, environmental activists, and capitalist enterprises to coopt and transform earnest environmental concern into further profit-driven destruction of the natural environment. Should be no surprise to anyone paying attention, despite the array of eco-luminaries making speeches and soundbites about “green” technologies that purport to save us from rendering the planet uninhabitable. Watching them fumble and evade when answering simple, direct questions is a clear indication of failed public-relations approaches to shaping the narrative.

Turns out that those ballyhooed energy sources (e.g., wind, solar, biofuel, biomass) ride on the back of fossil fuels and aren’t any more green or sustainable than the old energy sources they pretend to replace. Again, no surprise if one has even a basic understanding of the dynamics of energy production and consumption. That admittedly sounds awfully jaded, but the truth has been out there for a long time already for anyone willing and able to confront it. Similarly, the documentary mentions overpopulation, another notorious elephant in the room (or herd of elephants, as aptly put in the film), but it’s not fully developed. Entirely absent is any question of not meeting energy demand. That omission is especially timely given how, with the worldwide economy substantially scaled back at present and with it significant demand destruction (besides electricity), the price of oil has fallen through the floor. Nope, the tacit assumption is that energy demand must be met despite all the awful short- and long-term consequences.

Newsfeeds indicate that the film has sparked considerable controversy in only a few days following release. Debate is to be expected considering a coherent energy strategy has never been developed or agreed upon and interested parties have a lot riding on outcomes. Not to indulge in hyperbole, but the entire human race is bound up in the outcome, too, and it doesn’t look good for us or most of the rest of the species inhabiting the planet. Thus, I was modestly dismayed when the end of the film wandered into happy chapter territory and offered the nonsensical platitude in voiceover, “If we get ourselves under control, all things are possible.” Because we’ve passed and in fact lapped the point of no return repeatedly, the range of possibilities has shrunk precipitously. The most obvious is that human population of 7.7 billion (and counting) is being sorely tested. If we’re being honest with ourselves, we also know that post-pandemic there can be no return to the world we’ve known for the past 70 years or so. Although the documentary could not be reasonably expected to be entirely up to date, it should at least have had the nerve to conclude what the past few decades have demonstrated with abundant clarity.

Addendum

This review provides support for my assessment that “green” or “sustainable” energy cannot be delivered without significant contribution of fossil fuels.

Here’s a rather strange interaction: destruction budgets and moral license. The former refers to a theoretical or proposed budget for allowable environmental destruction. The latter refers to how doing something good allows rationalization of doing something bad as though one offsets (recognize that word?) the other. A familiar example is a physical workout that justifies a later sugar binge.

So just maybe some (outside executive offices anyway) are coming round to the idea that ongoing destruction of nature ought to be curtailed or better regulated. That’s the thrust of an article in Nature that mentions emissions budgets, which I’ve renamed destruction budgets. The article provides a decent overview of the largest threats, or environmental tipping points, that lead to an uninhabitable Earth. Human activity isn’t only about greenhouse gas emissions, however. Because industrial civilization has essentially had an unlimited destruction budget in the past, we’ve depleted and toxified air, soil, and water at such an alarming rate that we now have a limited number of harvests left and already face fresh water shortages that are only expected to worsen.

Turning to the viral pandemic, large segments of the population kept at home on lockdown triggered a different sort of destruction budget that didn’t exist before it suddenly did: economic destruction, joblessness, and financial ruin. For many Americans already stretched thin financially and psychologically, if the virus doesn’t get you first, then bankruptcy and despair will. Several rounds of bailouts (based on money that doesn’t exist) followed the economic slowdown and are freighted with moral hazard and moral license. Prior bailouts make clear where most of the money goes: deep corporate pockets, banks, and Wall Street. According to this unsophisticated poll, a clear majority do not want banks and financial institutions bailed out. There is even stronger public support for conditions on corporate bailouts, especially those conditions designed to protect employees.

Since we’re in wildly uncharted terrain from only 1.5 months of whatever this new paradigm is, it’s nearly impossible to predict what will occur by summertime or the fall. We’ve blown way past any reasonable destruction budget. In truth, such budgets probably never existed in the first place but were only used as metaphors to make plans no one expects to be binding, much like the toothless 2016 Paris Agreement. Every time we set a hypothetical self-imposed limit, we exceed it. That’s why, to me at least, 350.org is such a cruel joke: the target ceiling was breached decades before the organization was even founded in 2009 and hasn’t slowed its rate of increase since then. In effect, we’ve given ourselves license to disregard any imaginary budgets we might impose on ourselves. The pertinent question was raised by Thomas Massie (KY-Rep.) in the first new bailout bill when he openly challenged the number: “If getting us into $6 trillion more debt doesn’t matter, then why are we not getting $350 trillion more in debt so that we can give a check of $1 million to every person in the country?” How weird is it that both issues cite the number 350?

This unwritten blog post has been sitting in my drafts folder since October 2019. The genesis, the kernel, is that beyond the ongoing collapse of the ecosystem, the natural world that provides all the resources upon which we humans and other organisms rely for life and survival, all other concerns are secondary. Now 5–6 months later, we’re faced with a short- to mid-term crisis that has transfixed and paralyzed us, riveting all attention on immediate pressures, not least of which is ample supplies of paper with which to wipe our asses. Every day brings news of worsening conditions: rising numbers of infection; growing incidence of death; sequestering and quarantining of entire cities, states, and countries; business shutdowns; financial catastrophe; and the awful foreknowledge that we have a long way to go before we emerge (if ever) back into daylight and normalcy. The Age of Abundance (shared unequally) may be gone forever.

Are we mobilizing fully enough to stop or at least ameliorate the pandemic? Are our democratically elected leaders [sic] up to the task of marshaling us through the (arguably) worst global crisis in living memory? Are regular folks rising to the occasion, shouldering loss and being decent toward one another in the face of extraordinary difficulties? So far, my assessment would indicate that the answers are no, no, and somewhat. (OK, some municipal and state leaders have responded late but admirably; I’m really thinking of the early executive response that wasn’t). But let me remind: as serious as the immediate health crisis may be, the even larger civilizational collapse underway (alongside the current extinction process) has not yet been addressed. Sure, lots of ink and pixels have been devoted to studies, reports, books, articles, speeches, and blog posts about collapse, but we have blithely and intransigently continued to inhabit the planet as though strong continuity of our living arrangements will persist until — oh, I dunno — the end of the century or so. Long enough away that very few of us now alive (besides Greta Thunberg) care enough what happens then to forestall much of anything. Certainly not any of the real decision-makers. Collapse remains hypothetical, contingent, theoretical, postulated, and suppositional until … well … it isn’t anymore.

While we occupy ourselves indoors at a social distance for some weeks or months to avoid exposure to the scourge, I’d like to believe that we have the intelligence to recognize that, even in the face of a small (by percentage) reduction of global human population, all other concerns are still secondary to dealing with the prospect (or certainty, depending on one’s perspective) of collapse. However, we’re not disciplined or wizened enough to adopt that view. Moreover, it’s unclear what can or should be done, muddying the issue sufficiently to further delay action being taken. Fellow blogger The Compulsive Explainer summarizes handily:

We have been in an emergency mode for some time, and are now just recognizing it. This time it is a virus that is killing us, but we have been dying for a long time, from many causes. So many causes, they cannot be enumerated individually.

So for the near term, life goes on; for the farther term, maybe not.