Archive for Collapse

Left Catastrophism and Its Detractors

The Coming Economic Collapse That Never Was

The perfect subject for my return to this blog has presented itself in the form of an interview with Sasha Lilley, following up on the 2012 book Catastrophism: The Apocalyptic Politics of Collapse and Rebirth, which Lilley contributed to.

It has been a long time since I’ve nodded my head throughout an article while fundamentally disagreeing with a key part of its basic thesis. But that was my response to “Hoping for the Worst“, an interview with Lilley by Samuel Grove about just why so many people who want to make a better world seem to yearn for economic catastrophe and collapse, as if it will necessarily hasten the change they seek. With wisdom and clarity, Lilley thrashes what is indeed a commonplace view, which she calls Left catastrophism, used by many progressives and radicals as an excuse to wait for change to arrive, rather than making it themselves.

I found myself agreeing strongly with Lilley while also, uncomfortably, recognizing some of my own beliefs among those she is roundly criticizing. But Lilley’s representation of the archetypal collapse-anticipating radical doesn’t fit me or many others I know. I absolutely, unequivocally do not hope that global catastrophe arrives in order to usher in a new post-capitalist era.

In the first place, like Lilley, I don’t think such a meta-crisis would necessarily yield an egalitarian future. In fact, we suspect quite the opposite would emerge. In times of crisis, Lilley notes, humans do tend to turn toward regressive rather than progressive solutions:

Fear … tends to tilt right, not left. When people are fearful, they’re more likely to accept authoritarian solutions and the scapegoating of immigrants and others.

Ever skeptical of utopic pretenses, I simply do not believe that from the chaos of mass social upheaval will naturally emerge a peaceful, orderly anarchy. Such a thing must be strategized and painstakingly organized through struggle, and then failed at many times before success is at hand.

Even short of reactionary responses to crises, great upheavals are more likely to necessitate centrally coordinated solutions. In the wake of a real collapse scenario — the likes of which pretty much nobody involved in this debate can remotely fathom — the more reasonable among lifelong anarchists may just earnestly support authoritarian solutions. You might think you’ll simply twinkle and consense your way to socialism if the government and its systems suddenly vanished, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

Lilley describes the probable result of “disaster fatigue” and the patronizing nature of the notion that more bad outcomes from capitalism will raise consciousness. She notes:

[People] don’t need convincing that something is wrong, or that the system we live under doesn’t work for them.

Unfortunately, Lilley seems to hold out hope in the potential for revolutionary change without war or any other calamity, if only for the sake of having hope. She is cynical about cynicism:

Political despair and a crisis of organization lend themselves to the hope that an external jolt will replace the arduous work of reaching out to and organizing others. … Catastrophism is, amongst other things, about shortcuts and the messy business of fighting and losing sometimes and winning others can be shunted to the side.

Lilley even sympathizes with some catastrophists — those who are desperate for a better world but fear that jolt will be required:

Add to this the very real urgency that many people feel about the need to stop the ravages of capitalism—global warming being the most obvious—and catastrophism is eminently understandable.

I think perhaps this is what discerns a reasonable belief that socioeconomic collapse is highly probable, from catastrophism — the hope that it will happen soon, ushering an era of great positive changes.

Lilley seems to hold as near certainty that capitalism will adapt to oncoming crises, rather than undo itself through internal contradictions or ever allow itself to be undone by outside forces such as climate change or resource depletion.

Denial is the first stage of... No it isn't!

But I see a bit of paradox in Lilley’s assertions:

  1. Capital will not permit itself to wither or collapse from external causes…
  2. …yet, workers could organize to defeat capital…
  3. …and if capitalism were to crumble due to outside factors, the same workers (who are powerful enough to overthrow it now) would then be unable to establish a superior alternative order.

I’m definitely convinced of Point 3, excepting the parenthetical flourish added to emphasize the contradiction, but the other two are not so obvious to me.

This is subjective stuff, to be sure, but my twenty years of closely observing the US Left in action have left me with essentially no confidence that it can or will evolve into a force that could organize a revolution against capitalism.

While I’m perhaps less impressed by the Left and its potential, I also see more weaknesses in late capitalism than Lilley seems to discern. I’m surrounded by optimists who believe capitalism will innovate its way out of climate change and find ways around the very real matter of finite resources. I am far less convinced that the End Game is not close at hand.

Despite my skepticism, pessimism, and cynicism, I believe in working toward practical solutions. I advocate dual power strategy — radical organizing that also happens to be relatively collapse-resistant. It’s an actual plan for dealing with economic catastrophe or smaller-scale chronic crises without necessitating, investing in, or hoping for such events.

I also agree with Lilley that there will be no radical social change without struggle. Collapse, catastrophe, or blue skies, any transformation will be made by people, through organization.

But I find hope for hope’s sake overrated. I spent years mimicking Noam Chomsky’s adaptation of Pascal’s Wager: we don’t know we can bring about real, lasting social change, but we know if we do not try, we are certain to fail.

Okay, well, what does the evidence suggest? After years of believing — insisting even — that a pro-active revolution leading to a dramatically altered world was possible and attainable, I have reached the sad realization that the people of this current world are not going to make that happen, possible or not. Despite my intense desire to conclude otherwise, I see no real evidence that authentic revolution is in the cards.

Lilley’s final statement in the interview is, to me, most revealing of the weakness of all sides of this argument, including my own:

Not surprisingly, catastrophism tends to stress our collective weakness, rather than our collective power.  And that I think is to be avoided, no matter how grim things sometimes appear, because it’s actually inaccurate.

Note the last clause, tagged on to convey truism, but to me it highlights an inadequacy. Don’t stress our collective weakness … because it’s inaccurate; we’re not weak. I rather think the only reason for radicals not to stress the demonstrably profound weakness of the presently mobilized populace is to pretend it is not in fact weak, perhaps fooling people into believing they can accomplish more. Hell, I wouldn’t scorn a rallying strategy that involved a “little white lie”, provided it actually worked.

Current Left strategies (and maybe the whole concept of a “Left”) are failing miserably, while capitalism is very likely entering a new phase of vulnerabilities and limitations.

I don’t think Lilley is suggesting we double down on the status quo Left approaches to change. And that’s good. But continuing to build on strategies that do not include contingencies for collapse is as ill-advised as living without health insurance or not backing up your computer files. (Collapse is not as certain as climate change, so I won’t compare ignoring it to purchasing beach front property.)

But I’m afraid collapse is far more likely than an authentic social revolution emerging while capitalism is, as Emperor Palpatine described his second Death Star, “quite operational”. Since capitalism doesn’t have an exhaust vent leading to a critical vulnerability we can torpedo, we may have to resort to sabotaging its defenses, building strong alternatives, and vigilantly preparing for better opportunities. Besides, the sweetest irony of all would be if, in the end, zombie capitalism lost out not to a lofty idea, but to a superior, competing system already in practice. (No, I’m not actually arguing that irony is a justification for delay. Sheesh!)

I think Sasha Lilley and I broadly agree on so much here, differing mainly in our hopes that the Left can pull off a revolution. We probably also both believe she’s a better writer than I am, so I urge you to read her previous short treatment on this subject, “Apocalypse Now?


Naomi Klein Takes on Climate Change, Capitalism

Naomi Klein

Author and journalist Naomi Klein has done it again. She has written a sensible, perhaps seminal, and truly accessible treatise on what climate change and resource scarcity really mean for the coming decades. I do not fully agree with her conclusions, mainly because she shies away from condemning all markets to the dustbin of history (where she rightly notes the “free market” belongs). But I don’t want to gripe with the piece until after you’ve read it; I think it’s that important. Naomi has clearly spent the last several months much as I have, studying the implications of climate science and resource limits on the future of our economies, but I bow readily to her presentation.

So please, take the time to read “Capitalism vs. the Climate” in The Nation magazine right now.

Pretty impressive, right? Okay, now on to my misgivings, first reiterating that I am overwhelmingly fond of Naomi’s take. I’m just going to address my main concern, then briefly praise Naomi for a daring step in the right direction on another matter.

I am in favor of economic planning. And while Naomi didn’t provide a real framework for how she’d like to see it happen, she did note that participatory engagement in local-level planning would be on her preferred agenda.

In the cities and towns that have taken this responsibility seriously, the process has opened rare spaces for participatory democracy, with neighbors packing consultation meetings at city halls to share ideas about how to reorganize their communities to lower emissions and build in resilience for tough times ahead.

There’s nothing wrong with the above statement; it lays out the basics of what needs to happen society-wide, worldwide, and is already happening in places that overuse resources today (North America, Europe, etc), and places that will suffer the earliest and the most severely from climate change (Asia, Africa, etc).

Local-level planning will definitely be inadequate. It’s clear that Naomi fully understands this, as she advocates for big steps such as agricultural planning and reining in corporations, which no community could ever really do on its own.

But she doesn’t state that over-arching planning (at state, regional, national, and international levels) will have to address differences in capacity, privilege, and other factors that will make it harder or less necessary for some localities to “transition” the way others will have to. That is, communities privileged in terms of geography or wealth will benefit from the marginal advantages of slower and less-thorough transition periods. To the extent planning is based around markets, discrepancies of these kinds will be stark. I wouldn’t actually expect this to be covered in a short piece like Naomi’s, but it’s an implication that deserves to be noted.

Far worse, Naomi’s framework seems to accept that existing governments somehow have the capacity to engage in sensible planning. It’s not clear to me that any polity can responsibly engage in economic planning. Politics is truly a different sphere, dealing with matters of morality and justice; it starts to fail even just with regard to managing production and consumption of public goods. Intervening in the private sector is not the forte of institutions designed and overseen by politicians, especially as they are in turn funded by the industries they’re charged with regulating.

Naomi spends a lot of time in her article noting that market fundamentalists are right about the implications of climate science on the manifestations of their political economic ideology. It is a threat (hence their denial of the science). But so-called libertarians are also at least partly right about government’s inadequacy when it comes to intervening in economies; polities, politicians, and political bureaucrats make ham-fisted planners, at best. When society truly accepts climate change as a catastrophic reality, those arguing that Earth’s collection of profoundly inept governments and literally ridiculous bodies like the United Nations or the World Trade Organization can address matters by meddling with market economies will sound like clowns. Indeed, that’s how it sounds to me today.

Libertarians remain wrong about how profoundly awful markets are. If the contest were only between unregulated markets and regulated markets, the latter should win, but we should also all resign ourselves to a planet ablaze with suffering. Fortunately, those aren’t our only two options, and the alternatives are not limited to central planning, either.

What is needed is a direct-democratically planned economy managed by the population writ large as workers and consumers with more indicative data at their fingertips than simply market prices. It should be essentially autonomous of government, and it should allow for the systematic pricing of externalities, including those affecting ecology, public health, labor, and oppressed communities.

You can imagine then how massive this problem is in my view. First, the kind of transformation needed has to happen at all levels, as Naomi acknowledges. Second, it does not make a wit of sense to leave markets intact, as there is no way to responsibly plan (or do anything that concerns the environment) with markets at work. Third, the planning process cannot sensibly be carried out by government institutions; a separate technocracy is required free of the perverse interests of government, and more sensibly structured to facilitate the kind of ideal, consumer- and worker-influenced economic forces I think many people (very wrongly) romanticize the free market as being able to foster.

As a final note, kudos to Naomi Klein for being willing to grapple with the unnecessarily touchy issues of resource depletion, peak oil, and the cult of economic growth. Many conventionally trained progressive economists (which does not include the likes of Naomi or me) seem not to grasp the very real threat of these impending crises. In my experience, even some of the most radical economists exhibit a rather bizarre faith in capitalism’s ability to innovate its way through nearly any crisis, not to mention an almost mystic belief that the earth’s resources are essentially infinite. As I’ve noted before, there’s not overwhelming sense in concluding peak oil is going to collapse our economy in a precipitous fashion, but denying it will have a severe impact is indicative of a blind spot I simply cannot fathom. Mainstreaming acceptance that these factors will have a tremendous influence on any future economy is a terrific contribution.


Will the New York Times Profit Off an Elitist Profile?

very fat cat

It never ceases to amaze me how disconnected, or just plain unconcerned, the privileged can be when it comes to worrying about the future of the world. Believing they’re safe from the worst pains of anthropogenic climate change and contrived resource scarcity, their main concern tends to be how they are going to continue to grow their personal wealth when the shit hits the fan…

Long-term business analyst Jeremy Grantham has been noticed recently for what some see as economistic doomsday predictions, usually in the form of open “letters” to the investor class. In these communiques, Grantham says the same thing progressive economists and scientists have been saying for decades, citing roughly the same evidence (if far less of it!) and drawing essentially the same mid-term conclusions, with updated numbers. But Grantham has credibility because he’s not remotely radical, or really even progressive — he’s a late-to-the-game mainstream financial analyst… and more importantly, he’s got the interests of elites in mind, which means the New York Times will perk its ears up and give unconventional observations the kind of attention only a Magazine feature profile can provide.

Grantham and some fanboys drive the conversation of an August 11 NYTM piece titled “Can Jeremy Grantham Profit From Ecological Mayhem?” In a way only the extraordinarily privileged could swallow with a straight face, source after source lavishes Grantham with praise for looking out for the vulnerable, neglected investor class. Unless you’re made of money, it would be hard not to get outraged by the cavalier attitude of this whole story. But if you are a big investor, how “objective” and “unbiased” the feature must seem.

Let’s start with writer Carlo Rotella’s gushing treatment of Grantham:

Doomsayers are always plentiful, and the economic and environmental news has encouraged even more doomsaying than usual of late, but Grantham compels attention, in part because he’s not simply prophesying doom. […] And, crucially, the consequences will be unevenly distributed, creating angles for you to make money and look out for your interests, however you define them.

[emphasis added]

The New York Times is saying a man deserves attention not because he is pointing out how much trouble lies ahead (however inadequately); it’s because he inspires us to call our stockbrokers rather than run to the woods. In other words, it’s newsworthy because he can help people with capital exploit volatility, the rest of us be damned.

Bailout Nation author and prolific business blogger Barry Ritholtz, whose work I have followed for a couple of years now, appreciates Grantham as a fellow straight shooter. But with praise like the following in the NYTM story, it’s easy to see which side these guys are shooting for:

He’s not telling people to stockpile water and dehydrated food. He’s saying this asset class will underperform or not.

And what about those of us who can’t invest in assets of any class? (The ugly irony, of course, is that if a major collapse happens, it’s unlikely all the asset holdings in the world are going to keep these guys and their families fed and protected, but on the way to “doomsday” they can get filthier rich on paper!)

The whole piece is such a fawn fest, the Times even quotes sources with financial conflicts of interest. We’re treated to praise of Grantham from the head of the Environmental Defense Fund, a group backed by the Grantham Foundation for the Protection of the Environment. We also hear from the executive director of that same Foundation, whose job no doubt depends on Grantham’s good graces. On what planet is that legitimate journalism?

The article includes no critics of Grantham or his attitude. In fact, the only bit that could be conceivably construed as criticism is mixed praise of the quarterly letters, coming from another employee of Grantham, who notes some investors complain that Grantham’s advice isn’t immediately applicable enough for them to exploit!

No source points out how bizarre it is that someone notes potential suffering only to dismiss or distract from it, making no real mention of current suffering. No one offers alternative analysis. No one even challenges Grantham’s numbers from any perspective, Left, Right, or Martian.

Enough views about Grantham. What about Grantham’s views? Let’s start with a zinger. In Rotella’s words from the Times piece:

The world’s population could reach 10 billion within half a century — perhaps twice as many human beings as the planet’s overtaxed resources can sustainably support, perhaps six times too many.

We aren’t told that this is only true if we assume the planetary elite — that tiny percentage of the global population that consumes a massive share of resources that could otherwise be used to feed, clothe, heal, shelter, and educate the 60 percent or so that live on less than $2 a day — is permitted to maintain its sickening dominance of global wealth and resources. This status quo is a given for the Times and people who look at Grantham as a prophet of profit angles.

Rotella quotes Grantham’s open letter from July:

We humans have the brains and the means to reach real planetary sustainability. The problem is with us and our focus on short-term growth and profits, which is likely to cause suffering on a vast scale. With foresight and thoughtful planning, this suffering is completely avoidable.

The above statement is just plain wrong. First, it ignores the “suffering on a vast scale” that is already underway! On Day Zero, we’ve got suffering on a vast scale. Who can look around and consider that the horrors already caused by “scarcity” that is in turn caused by market capitalism’s wicked misallocation of goods and resources is anything other than “vast” — I’d rate it as “epic”, even.

Worse, it’s absurd to suggest by implication that the suffering of the world’s poorest can be averted. Some of it can be curbed — perhaps much, even — but the trajectory we are on offers no option for sparing a great many, no matter what radical changes are made. (See, for instance, the recent work of fellow market optimist Paul Gilding, who at least has the integrity to admit widespread suffering caused by climate change and scarcity will be hellish and is inevitable and underway.) And make no mistake, Grantham is not advocating radical changes anyway, least of all those with the most vulnerable in mind.

It isn’t actually clear what “suffering” Grantham is referring to. But even if he’s talking about the “suffering” of wealthy investor class that risks losing its $300 shirts if they don’t play their dollars right, that hardship can be but delayed as Grantham and his friends trample to the aft rim of the Titanic.

Grantham does give some indication of who he’s looking out for, noting that a drastic change in economic priorities will likely come “too late in the sense of failing to protect much of what we enjoy and value today.” By we, he probably doesn’t mean the world’s poorest.

Grantham wisely wants to tie the issue of climate change to that of resource depletion, which he thinks will have a greater impact on the American conscience than that abstract bogey man of global warming. “Global warming is bad news,” Grantham tells the Times. “Finite resources is investment advice.” Again we’re back to those real interests. You’re not going to ride out Grantham’s storm on your 401k.

Cynics like me will have to agree with Grantham to an extent: it’s true that Americans are more interested in their short-term concerns than looking down the road. But Grantham goes a step further; he considers this unfortunate attribute a strength, saying Americans “respond to a market signal better than almost anyone.” How great that we don’t care about those who will be first and most severely affected by climate change — by gosh, we’ll respond when it puts the economic pinch on us… after all, we’re Americans. Meanwhile, the Global South is collectively begging us to respond for their sake (and our own), but the virtuous Americans are awaiting the proper signal.

The Times feature ends unsurprisingly on a note of praise for Grantham.

But I’m not done with him yet.

Grantham’s most-recent letter — the one that has garnered him cult-like attention (that I contributed to because his numbers are very interesting) — is a moral disgrace.

Grantham is extremely smart and insightful. He has a keen eye for some of the limitations of the system he lives by.

Capitalism does not address these very long-term issues easily or well.  It seems to me that capitalism’s effectiveness moves along the spectrum of time horizons, brilliant at the short end but lost, irrelevant, and even plain dangerous at the very long end.

Again, how capitalism can be considered brilliant in the short term when billions of humans are food-insecure or at risk of dying from curable diseases is kind of hard for us non-elites to understand. But it’s important for business analysts to comprehend, as Grantham does, that capitalism isn’t even good at keeping their interests steadily shaping up, because markets have extremely limited predictive capabilities.

Grantham tentatively advocates reducing the human population of Earth in such a way that “might leave us with a world population of anywhere from 1.5 billion to 5 billion.” Well, we certainly could go a long way toward solving our resource problem by eliminating the wealthiest billion humans, but something tells me that isn’t who Grantham is thinking about. (I don’t advocate it either, for the record.)

We could more palatably solve many of our resource concerns by knocking out excess consumption by the wealthiest 15 percent of the global population, even while raising the standard of living for the lowest 60 percent or so. But of course that’s not a serious option for the Paper of Record or anyone they’d herald in a praise piece.

Grantham’s letter is devoid of the following words: hunger, poverty, refugee, famine, disease. These are hazards that even the most cynical of elite analysts doesn’t take seriously. Malnutrition and starvation are both mentioned, but one is a historical reference. One use of the terms is in a bullet point glancing over the fact that there will be “increases” in Africa and Asia, and nothing will be done about it. Another mention is used to crassly bolster Grantham’s case against US ethanol subsidies.

Grantham’s letter focuses heavily on agricultural issues, lending some very good analysis of soil and water problems that are worth reading. But it conspicuously ignores the root causes of the soil and water problems he notes: factory farming, livestock dependence, and monocropping. He’s either just learning about the cornucopia of deep-seeded oh-shit crises already facing humanity, or he’s burying most of them for whatever reason. Either way, his agricultural analysis is embarrassingly amateurish.

Perhaps worst of all, Grantham naively exhibits symptoms of a very typical chronic optimism disorder that is virtually religious in nature. This is not uncommon among elites trying earnestly to look down the road. After lamenting (while the Fukushima crisis is still at a high simmer in Japan) that humanity probably won’t make a revolutionary switch to nuclear fission energy, Grantham brightens up:

I believe that in 50 or so years – after many and severe economic and, possibly, social problems – we will emerge with sufficient, reasonably priced energy for everyone to live a decent life (if we assume other non-energy problems away for a moment) even if we don’t radically improve our behavior and make true sustainability our number one goal. In other words, current capitalist responses to higher prices should get the job done.

I’ll stick to the worst of this quotation’s many offenses: the belief, based on nothing but faith, that markets and humanity will somehow, magically, make everything peachy again mid-century. No need to switch economic systems or do anything too radical; after some undisclosed “social problems” that we can assume away, we don’t even need to “radically improve our behavior” in the meantime — everything will fix itself.

Substantiation of such a bizarre claim is unnecessary, because Grantham is telling the financial elite what they want to hear. Worst case scenario: everything will sort itself out after some problems. No worrying about that whole screwing-over-future-generations conundrum. Even the chief doomsayer says they’ll be fine.

That must be comforting for the kind of people the Times finds relevant.


Revolt is Inevitable; Riot is Not


To any insightful observer of the sociology of riots, the only thing that’s hard to understand about these extraordinary social phenomena is why they occur so seldom. As irrational as rioting may seem in terms of who bears the costs of the immediate damage and violence, there’s a difference between irrationality and senselessness. Riots tend to erupt without much historical consciousness on the part of instigators, so contextual disincentives (e.g., wariness of aftermath) are not fully in effect. In any case, something can seem irrational from the perspective of a distant observer, even while that same event can make total sense to the people engaged in the action (or for that matter, strongly sympathetic bystanders).

Riots and revolutions alike tend to be sparked by an incident or other concrete injustice from which moral outrage spreads. The differences between riots and revolutions, as two distinct types of uprisings, have to do with the level of organization of the response and whether the intentions are expressive or transformative.

In the current UK turmoil, it was the murder by police of a young black Londoner that set things off. The visceral, localized response to the frustration of never seeing injustices sufficiently addressed is understandable. In this case, it has spread to envelope people from many areas of England carrying myriad torches they believe are not being validated by anyone in position to make a difference. I doubt anyone has ever put it better than Rev. Martin Luther King Jr did in 1963:

When you cut facilities, slash jobs, abuse power, discriminate, drive people into deeper poverty, and shoot people dead whilst refusing to provide answers or justice, the people will rise up and express their anger and frustration if you refuse to hear their cries. A riot is the language of the unheard.

Nothing fundamental has changed since MLK spoke those words. For all the social progress that has been made, governments still act on behalf of their wealthy sponsors and underwriters, and the most privileged race still sees itself as superior and specially deserving while pretending to abhor that very idea. Almost nobody in a position to be heard states the obvious: that wealth is power, and a system that fosters the accrual and concentration of power will before long so silence and disenfranchise some that they will seek to be noticed however they possibly can. Furthermore, it is easiest to disenfranchise an underprivileged class if that class is divided against itself on superficial lines of race, gender, age, and so forth, and when that class is kept quiet and complacent.

When it comes to articulating their discontent, the poor are reliant on the corporate news media to convey their plight. But mainstream outlets have a static handful of perspectives on poverty, youth, and race: ignorance, patronization, scapegoating, demonization, and distortion. In societies where media outlets mediate nearly all interfaces between the poor and the privileged, and where police conspire with geography to protect the privileged from those they exploit, the self-destructive orgy of chaotic looting and burning is one of the only available options for sending messages.

Here’s another apt quote that’s gone viral. An NBC News reporter asked a participant of the riots were achieving anything. He replied:

Yes. You wouldn’t be talking to me now if we didn’t riot, would you? Two months ago we marched to Scotland Yard, more than 2,000 of us, all blacks, and it was peaceful and calm; and you know what? Not a word in the press.

Of course, such rare glimpses of explicit conveyance notwithstanding, the message typically received by the voiceful when they look at rioting is, “Insulate yourselves from us so we can’t burn your house down or hurt your kids.” It’s doubtful that many people in positions of power hear the proper message: “Give us some justice and share your shit with us or we’re coming for it.” The power elite take their cues from the fire department during riots: stand back, maybe spray some water here and there, try to contain the blazes to the poorest neighborhoods.

The political and economic dimensions of the riots rocking British cities are too big to ignore, no matter how earnestly politicians and members of the media insist the events are acts of crazed criminality. Jérôme E. Roos assesses the “structural causes” of the riots in an excellent backgrounder:

While it would be ridiculous to use [youth unemployment and child poverty] statistics as a justification for the dangerous, irresponsible and anti-social behavior of the rioters, it would be just as foolish to simply ignore this crucial social context and only focus on the “aberrant behavior” of “deviant individuals.” The violence and thievery may be entirely indiscriminate and a-political, but the root causes of it are profoundly political and carry a very clear discriminatory component.

See Dan Poulton’s “Riot in the Age of Austerity” for more context.

The question in our minds shouldn’t be whether civil society will respond to intolerable conditions like wealth disparity, alienation, and discrimination imposed upon the populace by elites. The question is simply how will we respond? We can do it in an organized, intentional fashion, with preparation, cohesion, and foresight. Or we can do it in a chaotic climax of rage.

We will revolt. But will our upheaval take the form of organized revolution or spontaneous spasm? That latter, default option isn’t “pointless” or “senseless” as many would depict it. But it only achieves the goal of scratching an itch. Revolution serves that goal, too, but it also can exchange itchy, dead skin for healthy new flesh.

Still, given all that I’ve said about corporate media forming a status-quo-protecting shield between the privileged and the exploited, what is the practical alternative to rioting? Please, you urge, because you’re anti-lameness… don’t prescribe more of that passive demonstrating and those sniveling petitions! That stuff only reminds us that we’re itchy; it scratches nothing!

The answer is organized direct action. Premeditated campaigns of operations that are considerate and self-conscious, not merely reactive. Campaigns carried out in concert with a system for implementing a new mode of truly just and equitable social relations. Such is where mob rule yields to grassroots democracy. Easier said than done? Hell yes. Still easier than dealing with the repercussions of riot? Just maybe.

So if you expect rioting to visit your neighborhood as “austerity measures” and heavy handed policing increase, maybe it’s time to think about organizing to channel all that outrage toward productive goals using forward-looking strategies and tactics. Build recognizable alternative institutions that are precious so services and supplies can be maintained while previously dominant institutions of dependence go up in figurative or literal flames. Target only otherwise-unaccountable property and materiel that is itself used as a weapon of exploitation.

There will be revolt. The choice between riot and revolution is ours.

Top image credit: Phil Noble; Second image credit: Lewis Whyld.


Thriving After Collapse: Three Approaches to Survival and Beyond

Dilbert talks survivalism.

I see three general approaches to preparing for the impending social/economic/ecological collapse. I’ll talk more about my own views of how I see that coming, and in fact more about the preparation strategies described here, but I thought a brief introduction would be handy down the road.

The most obvious model is the nuclear survivalist approach. I use the term nuclear as in the “nuclear family” unit, but the strategy has its roots in the original contemporary apocalyptic scenario*: atomic holocaust. This is where you stockpile supplies for you and yours and prepare to protect them by force.

The second and third ways are similar, and not mutually exclusive**. The second approach is community survivalism. This is where an entire community prepares for the eventual collapse. A community here might mean a neighborhood or a village or conceivably even a city, or it might be a local sub-group that self-identifies as a federation or network of households.

The third approach is dual power. This is where a community (defined as above) pro-actively organizes to avert the worst impacts of collapse. A dual power is named such as it operates while the current system is still fully functional. This approach, if taken up on a large enough scale, would constitute a social revolution. It would not avert the collapse of the current system per se, but it would potentially ameliorate some of its worse impacts, and might indeed more gracefully bring about the downfall of the dominant system. And if it failed in doing so, it could fall back to functioning as a community survivalist approach to endure collapse.

There are pros and cons to each of these systems, but as you can already tell, I strongly favor the dual power model, because I’m not a very individualistic, short-term, or even local thinker. I advocate the approach that is best for the most. But I also think in the long run, the dual power strategy is the only one that has the potential to do anything other than delay suffering even of the best-prepared survivors.

Nuclear Survivalism

The nuclear survivalist approach is a model that offers you the most control. There are fewer moving parts, so it’s the most reliable, independent option. Even if you expand the model slightly beyond the nuclear family or household, the scale can be relatively manageable. There’s none of the messiness associated with democracy, mutual aid, and larger-scale cooperation.

Unfortunately, the nuclear survivalist model has severe limitations, owing primarily to economies of scale and division of labor — that is, a distinct lack of each. A small group with limited skills can only accomplish just so much, so the nuclear survivalist must stockpile massively. Stockpiles, besides being strictly finite and thus having a literal shelf life, are attractive to hostiles and require vigilant defense.

The nuclear survivalist also has a limited domain. Even if you’re using the cabin-in-the-woods approach, going out to hunt, gather, cultivate, or scavenge is very dangerous. So once stockpiled supplies are depleted, the game shifts dramatically. At this point, the nuclear survivalist will be wishing for community.

Dilbert talks survivalism.

Community Survivalism

This model essentially just ups the scale from the household model to a larger group. Since a community can be defined as just an array of households scattered around a neighborhood or village, or it can be an entire town, it’s hard to paint an encompassing portrait. But all applications share some basic advantages and liabilities.

Greater division of labor and economies of scale make life easier once any stores are depleted, and indeed they open up various options for stockpiling and distributing essentials. The community approach offers basic insurance against acute tragedies such as fire (backup housing) or illness (assuming there’s at least one medical specialist in the group and/or supplies include medicines no single family would expect to store).

In most cases, the community scale also upgrades the domain in which it is safe to be outside acquiring inputs, as perimeter patrolling becomes realistic.

On the other hand, this model requires cooperation between units with varying interests, and presumably it involves democratic structures that are more unwieldy than those enjoyed (or eschewed) at the household level. In terms of economics, the community survivalist model introduces the problems associated with scale, such as competition over “surplus” resources between people who contribute variously. And in the end, all of this cooperation and organizing is still hyper-local and short-sighted, not particularly unlike nuclear survivalism.

Finally, as compared to the dual power strategy, community survivalism offers no recourse for practice. Community survivalists plan for crisis but do not engage in active relations as an operational community until that crisis hits.

This is incidentally the approach that resonates with many because Michael Ruppert advocates it in Collapse. Review this short clip and decide for yourself its relative appeal.

Dual Power Community

This strategy is largely identical to community survivalism, except it is put into practice before crisis hits. Or, perhaps more accurately, it recognizes a crisis in the present and begins addressing said crisis. The other difference is that the dual power model is intended to be transformative. Its mode is not survivalist but rather transitional and change oriented. Dual power organizers look to affect conditions rather than merely cope with them. They see change not just as something inevitable to respond to but forces that can be affected. The dual power approach plans to come out the other side of any crisis ahead in as many realms as is possible.

Otherwise, it shares the weaknesses of community survivalism, and these are not insignificant. There is far less of a guarantee that a community undertaking a dual power strategy would make it through the first winter in a post-collapse world than the nuclear survivalism approach. And it’s obviously much harder to talk about issues of organizing for crisis with one’s neighbors than with one’s family.

But as time goes on, these difficulties will likely fade, as the topic of surviving post-collapse will become increasingly popular and less taboo. Those with an idea of how to thrive, not merely cope, under chronically catastrophic conditions may sound more appealing than advocates of running for the hills.


I have a lot more to say on these matters, but for now I just wanted to get a general entry up so I could refer back to it as I post on various related issues. To be clear, I’m not one of these people who is heralding collapse as the way to spark the change I’ve always known we’ve needed. I have hopes that we will respond to collapse, at least when it is imminent if not sooner, in a way that gives us a foot forward by building community and planning for transformation. But I’d much rather see that happen now, and watch humanity enjoy a relatively bloodless transition to a model that works for everyone instead of just for elites, as market capitalism and central planning always have. And I most hope we avoid the command capitalism (fascism) I think a lot of people will want to turn to once it’s “too late”.

* It’s curious to note that there was very little time in human history prior to the advent of nuclear weapons during which any kind of event — war, weather, economic collapse — threatened to set an entire society back dramatically. Local subsistence and self-reliance were watchwords in an epoch marked by acute scarcity. Only in the industrial age, which started scarcely a century before the US acquired the atom bomb, have we become so dependent on institutions of scale that their disappearance threatens nearly every aspect of our way of life, and certainly our economic footing.

** To be fair, the nuclear survivalist strategy is not necessarily mutually exclusive to the community and dual power approaches. It’s more a matter of where effort and focus are concentrated. One could stockpile and plan for one’s family while also engaging in community organizing efforts. But generally, the mindset is very different, and I think individualism effectively discourages a more social approach.


How Outsiders Will View Our Demise


I made this movie to express my frustration with where we’re headed. It’s not particularly informative, but I hope it’s a funny way to make people think about how untenable our economic system is.