By Charles: Doomers’ Visions of the Future

Today’s guest post by Charles is an excellent primer on the diversity of beliefs held by many of the best minds that think about our overshoot predicament. Charles wisely reminds us that no one knows what the future will bring.

Charles recounts his journey of increasing awareness that led to depression and despair, followed by an awakening of acceptance and constructive action, that has provided him with some peace and happiness.

It’s funny how I (we?) construct incorrect mental images of people we meet on the web. I imagined Charles to be an elderly retired reclusive spiritual philosopher, not a middle-aged top-tier software developer with a deep scholarly interest in human overshoot, and an impressive sustainable food growing sideline.

Charles concludes by asking readers to share their own visions of the future. If you have something to say that deserves more than a comment, please contact me about posting a guest essay.

P.S. I believe Charles now holds the doomosphere record for the most links in a single essay.

The idea for this post originates from an exchange with fellow doomer davelysak who states:

I foresee, based on various portents, an extreme human population crash in the relatively (10 – 50 years? Maybe sooner?) near future.

and later adds the precision that

I’ll be surprised if there are more than 2 billion people alive on earth in 20 years.

This made me reflect about my own anticipation for the future, even more crucially, the way I communicate it to others. Or rather as a matter of fact, don’t so much anymore. Like Cassandra, I have come to understand that I find myself psychologically between a rock and a hard place: I foresee a future of extreme hardships which I do not particularly desire. Worst, I have long felt compelled to share my projections, driven by the naive impulse to initiate collective preemptive action. However, torn apart between the pride of intellectual rigor, my ideal not to harm others and increasingly aggressive or irrational reception of the message, I have slowly learned to repress myself, not to voice my concerns and conform to the group. After all, even Cassandra brought ill fate to herself. (It turns out my strategy is no solution, as the rage is turned inside and builds up, but that could be a story for another day.)

Hopefully, our host, Rob provides a safe haven to any doomer who wishes to bravely face the crude, unadulterated nature of our predicament.

As doomers, we share a myth, the myth of collapse. In a nutshell, it unfolds, as I understand it, as follows:

• The old age of material opulence is about to end, as current trends can not continue for long.
• A world-scale crisis has been brewing for quite some time; it is about to burst.
• After it eventually recedes, once balance is somewhat restored, a new normalcy, a new age will be revealed (that part of the myth is optional).

Funnily, if we refer to Kurt Vonnegut’s shapes of stories it falls somewhere between the shapes Old Testament and New Testament.

And many false prophets shall rise

Lurking for a quarter of a century in the doomosphere has taught me visions of the future, even among doomers, may vary tremendously. The stroll through the exhibit of studies can go on for hours, ranging from loss of material affluence (Richard Duncan’s Olduvai theory) to complete life wipe-out (James Hansen’s Venus Syndrome), with population collapse (Club of Rome’s limits to growth) and near term human extinction as middle-grounds (I guess).

The fall is seen as either rapid and brutal as in Hugo Bardi’s Seneca cliff, or manageable as in John Michael Greer’s catabolic collapse. Even our preferences and values differ: some like Jack Alpert’s sustainable modern civilization of 70 million wish to preserve the current living arrangements trading population level, on the contrary, primitivists such as Derrick Jensen do not equate humans with Homo Industrialis and impatiently wait for the machine to (be) stop(ped). There are even some fringe organizations advocating voluntary human extinction and euthanasia, while most would just like to manage degrowth. (To be fair, the church of euthanasia’s ultimate goal is species awareness.)

Model after study after analysis after opinion piece paint different aspects and outcomes of the fall. Some radically scarier than others.

My personal journey through doom

What then do we really expect, fear and hope? At first I had planned to cold-heartedly present the scenarios I found most probable and then invite you to share your own prospects. But, given the heavy emotional load that the subject carries, I somewhat changed my mind: after all we are discussing the possibility of not only material losses but the widespread increase in suffering, deaths, extinction of the living world. At the very least, our cultural identity is at stake. So I’d like to add a personal twist and narrate how my understanding of the future evolved during my personal journey.

I was born in 1978 in the then extremely affluent and sophisticated country of France (WesternCiv). I was inculcated with the idealism of my time and place which originates from the Age of Enlightenment: triumph of reason, humanism, universalism, materialism, progress and atheism. Even though I had a really hard time learning the fundamental necessary last piece allowing anyone to function in an ideal world (hypocrisy), it was indeed the best of all possible worlds.

At 6, I was profoundly marked by Chernobyl. I remember the haunting masks of the liquidators, courageously shoveling the entrails of the angry machine, promised a certain death as a reward for saving our, my lives; and the helicopters hauling sand; and then the oddly reassuring claims from my country statesmen about the spread of the cloud. A first encounter with official doublespeak?

As a city boy living on the 6^th floor of a modern building, I grew up a book-worm. Books offered countless windows into exciting realms out of the deprived environment of a sanitized flat. In particular, I vividly remember feeling a strong emotional bond with Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale Five Peas from a Pod. Was it a hint, a reverberation from a destined future of my deep yet unacknowledged nature? More were to follow. At a relatively young age, I watched the extremely violent Japanese TV series Fist of the North Star (right-minded censorship hadn’t caught up yet). A brilliant blend between the universes of Mad Max and Bruce Lee, it depicts a brutal post-apocalyptic world set in barren landscapes and desolated ruins. This time around the call of agonizing farmer Smith to plant rice seeds for tomorrow particularly resonated (captions are read from right to left).

I later read Asimov’s Foundation series and Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha.

I was faintly aware of the environmental crisis, in particular climate change as a life changing but slow process with only distant impacts. Shortly before the new millennium I stumbled upon information which blew my comfortable world view. It was Colin Campbell explaining depletion and predicting peak oil.

At that point, I was convinced global population would have to come down during my lifetime and challenging times were ahead. I thought it would still be manageable, spanning through the coming century from the current population of 6 billion back to pre-industrial levels between roughly 1 and 2 billion (respective estimates of the population around 1800 and 1930).

I was a rational realist, not buying into modern human exceptionalism which asserts we can achieve higher agriculture yields than our predecessors with fewer resources on an environmentally degraded planet. Even though the greatest shortcoming of the human race is our inability to understand the exponential function in a Tragedy of the Commons, I had faith humanity would soon change its ways: it was just a matter of spreading the crucial piece of information about resource depletion widely enough. After all, there were already some men of good will, such as Jason Bradford, taking action. In South Korea, I had just met the love of my life, some years later we married. We were fruitful. Our daughter Rachel, as an homage to Rachel Carson, was born in 2007. Determined to carry my load in curbing population growth, I convinced my wife to stop multiplying at one.

I was to be punched in the face again. It was 2012. A somewhat egocentric professor was sternly announcing near term human extinction (this is most probably the presentation by Guy McPherson I watched at that time). The future was sealed. I was now standing on the edge of a steep final cliff. For me, it was the start of a very dark period. You know that kind of aftertaste which lingers a while after watching a documentary such as the Island of Flowers.

Except everyday, as a background of everything else. I couldn’t help but feel hopeless for my then 5 years old daughter. The key notions were feedback loops (for instance methane according to sad Nathalia Shakhova) and tipping points.

Evidence accumulated from every side. State of the ocean: apocalyptical; ice: disappearing; trees: under assault; soils: eroding. It was suddenly the 6^th (or was it already the 7^th) mass extinction. I quit flying (for what that is worth, there surely is, unfortunately, a substitution of demand paradox similar to Jevons?).

Having thoroughly assimilated this new data, two years later, I wrote a dense blog entry to get it off my chest. I reviewed my script: I was now expecting 1 billion humans by 2040 and extinction at the end of the century. News still got worse. Moving goalposts, shifting baselines and worse than predicted by the model were the expressions of the days.

Homo Sapiens’ response was to pretend all was safe. The manufacture of consent, merchants of doubts had it easy with a general public all too eager to keep on basking in comforting denial.

Kevin Anderson exposed the half-truths of even a supposedly rigorous official body, the IPCC, about non-existing negative emissions technologies included in their models. The remaining carbon budget was already getting slim and the task to turn this ship around incommensurable.

I took Wing Chun classes (even though I was not sparring with these ladies) and practiced like an addict would inject heroin.

Primitivism (Derrick Jensen, Deep Green Resistance, Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael) convinced me our fate was sealed a long time ago, when we forked into the original sin. Attempts to heal (Carolyn Baker, Joanna Macy, Charles Eisenstein) back into the lost Eden did not cheer me up. Resistance seemed futile (Underminers, Sea Shepherd). Everything was a lie, a fraud, and the living world was collapsing.

I felt increasingly ashamed and guilty for being part of this holocaust of a new kind (let’s not mince words, this is un-Denial after all 😉 ). Only this depressed collapsitarian on his boulder brightened me up, at least for his accent and hat. I considered taking ‘shrooms to communicate with the spirit of the Earth.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, an ordinary miracle was happening on my very own balcony. For no real reason, I had installed a large clay pot and was everyday discarding some food waste. It was fun watching soil building. 7 years later I harvested 3 peaches on a small tree that had grown on its own out of a minimal daily routine. It died the next year, but had shown me a way forward.

I went back to my bookcase to dust off Fukuoka’s One-Straw Revolution. I had read it at 20, but as a conformist computer scientist did not know how to respond to the strong appeal it had on me already at that time. I bought all translated Fukuoka’s books and Larry Korn’s excellent clarifications (for a western mind that is).

Haunted by images from The Burmese Harp, I stopped Wing Chun one year just before covid struck. I lived this surreal period as a blue pill/red pill moment: do we still put our faith into an authoritative centralized science, absolved from any personal implication and effort, or do we fend for ourselves and look for other ways. Although, it was a slow grind, a long arm wrestling, I felt the price of resistance turned out surprisingly not to be very high: give up on restaurants and movies mostly. I have to admit I am proud I was able to withstand (especially for my daughter’s sake) peer pressure and the manipulative wannabee bully Emmanuel Macron we have as president, a corporate valet, if anything.

I enrolled in the local community gardens and bought a small piece of land in the country side to plant a resilient edible forest garden. I started at ground zero: the previous rectilinear poplar plantation was clear cut just before the sale (in modern mindset no profit is too small).

I don’t really worry about the future anymore. After all, if we let her be, life unveils tremendous amounts of strength and resilience. Humanity does not deserve only contempt. I’ve found many people to admire and approaches to follow.

Masanobu Fukuoka’s natural farming:

Ernst Götsch’s syntropic agriculture:

Joseph Lofthouse’s landrace gardening:

I learned acceptance of what I can not control: other people’s behavior, preferences and own internal limitations. I learned the importance of doing small things at my pace, my scale, everyday. I unlearned duality (that’s another story).

Current thoughts about the future

In the span of 25 years, my outlook on the future changed three times. Today, I am not even sure were we really stand. In Vonnegut typology, rather than the classical doomer’s narration, I now find myself in the “Which way is up” shape of story. In this section I will outline my current personal view and preferred outcome.

Although, nothing can completely be excluded, I don’t believe the planet will either go Venus nor abiotic. I do not believe the human species will be extinct by the end of the century. I do not believe we will escape to the stars onboard metallic ships. We may nuke ourselves out of existence, but it is in nobody’s interest. We may experience multiple severe nuclear power plant accidents. But maybe scarcity of nuclear fuel will compel us to progressively shut them down before. In the longer term, the human species could even survive the ongoing extinction event.

As depicted by Joseph Tainter for prior civilizations, ours chose a similar path of increased complexity. Following this strategy, it has cornered itself: in my country almost every service has been converted into an “app” or is in the process of doing so. Thus creating the biggest single point of failure: all this convenience relies on the continued operation of the grid, data centers, the network, chips, long supply chain, rare minerals, etc.

To me, a Seneca cliff scenario is unavoidable and guarantees rapid material loss. We will lose our technological gadgets and crutches. Our machines will stop, thirsty. Pollution will be reduced and assimilated by the organic world. We won’t do much about it other than pretend.

Will there be a population crash or a graceful decline? Will the planet temperature stabilize at a livable level? What will the ultimate stable population be? I don’t know.

Our current ways impact the web of life brutally. I will really be surprised if the planet sustains more than 2 billion people for long. Biomass tonnage of mammals gives an idea of the scales at play:

I expect a crash in the following 2 to 3 decades. Eyeballing the world population age pyramid, if we had to achieve this four-fold reduction tomorrow in a “fair” way, then all males above 30 years of age should go soylent green (females are given 5 more years). For long term survival wouldn’t this be preferable to a slow long agony? This won’t be said out-loud. So I won’t go further on that path.

A call to inaction

Fortunately, there could still be room left to maneuver. Fuel could be rationed for food usages. The population could spread out, reducing the need for transportation and providing labor for agriculture. Degraded land could be regenerated, deserts converted to forests, cereal fields hybridized into agroforestry, or converted to orchards or edible forests as once was the case in Europe.

There are some success stories (propaganda of our times, maybe) all around the world.

China:

Saudi Arabia:

India:

Africa:

New Zealand:

USA:

Agriculture from the green revolution is productive (given external fossil fuels), but soulless, dumb and destructive: the philosophy at work in every step (delineating plots, tilling, applying pesticides and herbicides, irrigating) is that of control, rendering the soil inert, blocking the natural flow of life. The idea, disconnected from reality, is to make agri-culture an industrial process so that outputs can be maximized following a known function of inputs.

Life is not inert, its potential surpasses anything we can fathom. A miracle akin to the one that happened on my balcony could be made possible on the large scale. We don’t (and I believe never will) understand the whole system.

The theory of the biotic pump gives us a glimpse into the full extent of its processes at the planetary level:

I cannot recommend this presentation by Anastassia M. Makarieva enough:

Accompanying slides:

Large forests work like a planetary air conditioning system: pumping water from the ocean and circulating it across the continent, cooling temperatures, releasing heat above the layer of greenhouse gases directly into space.

Soil could be restored while at the same time cooling the climate.

I accept this may well be sophisticated denial on my side. But why not try?

Conclusion

I agree with Guy McPherson when he states everybody in the industrialized world was born into captivity. But that’s primarily a mental prison we can break out of. So far this culture has lived by the motto divide and conquer, waging war on every side, engrossed in the illusion of control. The fire has grown to the point it has now become a matter of life and death.

Course must be changed. It is not even that hard. All it requires is some generosity: stop the aggression towards the planetary organism which shelters us all, let forests grow absolutely everywhere. Feed ourselves, heal and replenish life at the same time. Tend to be taken care of.

This, to me, is the concrete meaning of love: the cycle of co-dependence illustrated by Yggdrasil, the tree of life surrounded by the eternal snake Ouroboros.

In any case, this is the path I have chosen for myself, regardless of the circumstances, and my proposition for mutually assured survival.

Your turn

Thank you for reading. At least, I hope this post was somewhat entertaining. Please let me know what your own visions, hopes and propositions for the future are. I love to be surprised.