Notes for a Global Warming Survival Guide

Is it too early to begin talking about how to survive the collapse of civilization? If the more pessimistic predictions about global warming are to be believed — and there is reason to believe them — within a decade or two the trend may become irreversible, leading to an accelerating global environmental catastrophe and, as a possible consequence, the breakdown of many of the social and economic systems that much of the world has come to take for granted. The mind does not have to over-extend itself to imagine how a combination of widespread agricultural failure, mass death, and the reduction of entire populations to desperate poverty could reverse the last 500 years of human development, force society into low-tech survival mode, and brutally test the endurance, ingenuity, and general fitness of every individual.

It's too early, certainly, for any responsible person to lose hope in the power of social activism to right a listing ship, to withdraw into fatalistic despair, or to forget that human beings have a remarkable capacity for pulling through. Still, the smart money would advocate thinking seriously about how one and one's community would fare in the event, and about developing contingency plans now rather than later. That would involve beginning to work on a kind of triple track — one track devoted to the usual business of getting by or getting ahead within the systems and structures of our society, a second to pushing for important changes to avert environmental catastrophe, and a third to identifying ways of becoming independent of those systems and structures, that is, preparing for the worst-case scenario.

A highly technological society in which most people have no good idea how most of the technology works is intrinsically fragile. We in the industrialized West use computers all the time, and yet how many of us could really explain the difference between volts, watts, and amperes, let alone the functioning of a microchip? How long would it take for us to figure out how to repair a simple engine? Et cetera. And compounding this vulnerability of knowledge is a vulnerability of scale: The workings of government and the goings-on of large corporations take place mostly beyond the ability of regular people to influence them. As stockholders and voters, we theoretically have input, but as practical matter we nonetheless rely on the responsible behavior of these entities. In the event of massive social disruption, there is no telling how government and industry might react, and whether — God forbid — a struggle for resources might end up pitting ordinary citizens against the big institutions,

Imagine a scenario, then, in which the systems and structures we have come to depend upon — the power grid, the phone lines and wireless towers, water and garbage collection — begin to break down under the stresses of environmental calamity. Crime surges and government overreacts, or underreacts. Civic participation becomes increasingly meaningless in the face of elemental exigencies: food, shelter, safety, survival. Transportation and communications networks operate sporadically, or fail altogether. The financial system is thrown into turmoil, as people desperately seek to convert savings to usable assets, and as markets experience massive distortion. Black markets thrive, especially in weapons. A public health calamity leads to massive numbers of refugees streaming into the major cities.

Futurists and sci-fi writers love to think about this stuff, and such a scenario is offered here in that spirit: What if, what if….? With every passing year, however, it seems less futuristic and less sci-fi.

One of the best-selling books of the last few years has been "The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Guide," which provides information on how to deal with unexpected snake-bites and plane-crashes and so forth, and which has recently come out in an "Extreme Edition." Hmmm. Just a fun read to keep in the bathroom — or a symptom of some deeper cultural intuition? Perhaps the next edition should be titled the "Global Warming Survival Guide." On page one would be listed: "How to Establish a Viable Self-Sufficient Community." And where's what it might say:

Identify who might participate in such a community. Short answer: family and friends willing to work hard and show a cooperative spirit. Anthropologists have shown that a natural unit of primate social organization consists of about 110-130 individuals (the tribe, the regiment, etc.), and this might be an optimum final figure, but at first several families living together would probably be sufficient. Think about the practical skills different people would bring to the endeavor — medical training, an ability to hunt or fish, basic engineering proficiency, talent with cloth and needle — and imagine their regular roles in the community.

Acquire a piece of land with the right attributes. It should be suited for agriculture (i.e., not the desert or the tundra) and, if possible, for hunting and fishing. It should be in a strategic location (i.e., distant from the refugee hordes, but not totally isolated from society). And it should be in an area that can withstand a 2-5 degree rise in average temperature and a 15-20 foot rise in sea level. Purchase the land ASAP, pooling money if necessary.

Recognize the need to physically defend the community. The model here is not a bunch of hippies camping out in Taos, but a safe and secure permanent settlement where people can live, work, reproduce, and pass along culture without being attacked, plundered, or overrun by criminals or refugees. There will likely be no local law enforcement in such a place, and it would be only prudent to build fortifications and to be trained in the use of firearms.

Establish rules of conduct that participants must abide by. Every society, however large or small, however intimate its members, has to have a system of law, or else it will descend into dysfunction. This necessitates, unfortunately, a system of enforcement, which in turn implies two crucial activities: judgment and punishment. The details of how this would all operate would depend on the community members, of course, but one course of action seems sound: Have participants, upon joining, sign a contract explicitly stating the rules they agree to follow and the potential sanctions they agree to face.

Determine how information will be acquired and shared. There will be no CNN in Rancho Warmo, and no daily delivery of the New York Times. A ham radio seems the best option, but it is also worth remembering that Native American tribes managed to communicate quite effectively with drums and smoke signals.

Recognize the need to participate in the external economy. Even if it just means trading or bartering with other communal settlements (see above on "strategic location"). No alternative community has ever survived by withdrawing into righteous isolation from the rest of the world. Such practical intercourse, and the symbiosis it reveals, will also provide the motivation and foundation for mutual security, for the formation of healthy social and reproductive ties, and for the transmission of culture.

Stockpile tools. They are both indispensable and hard to manufacture. The basic implements like hammers, shovels, crowbars, and so forth, will go a long way. For important tools that require electricity, such as drills, bring a generator.

Anticipate limited, if any, availability of fossil fuels. There is considerable agreement that we are in the Peak Oil phase, after which petroleum will become harder to extract and increasingly expensive. Incorporate small-scale renewable energy sources (especially wind and solar) and resource conservation measures (e.g., underground water cisterns, significant insulation, and passive solar design) into the daily operations of Rancho Warmo.

Bring know-how, or people who have the know-how. What happens when the generator breaks? How do you set a broken bone? Can the nearby stream be diverted for irrigation? How is adobe made? The questions go on without end, and the more answers we have up front, the better.

At the beginning of the 21st century, human ingenuity finds itself in a race with human self-destructiveness. Hopefully ingenuity will pull us out of the accelerating environmental crisis without the worst-case scenarios coming to pass. That is why, again, the responsible course of action is to not to despair or withdraw, but as individuals to work as hard as we can for the common good, to do everything we can in our personal lives to reduce our environmental footprint, and to apply pressure on those who have the power to really make a difference. This is the kind of ingenuity we're all hoping will prevail.

Another kind of ingenuity would help see us through the worst-case scenario. This is the kind of ingenuity reflected, for example, in the Norwegian government's recent announcement that it is building a seed bank on the Arctic island of Svalbard. The Global Seed Vault, which Norway's Minister of Agriculture likened to Noah's Ark, would preserve 3 million varieties of plants such that human agriculture could be reconstituted following a planetary catastrophe. In coming years, watch for many more such precautionary measures being taken — in unexpected ways and in unexpected quarters. To survive and to rebuild itself, civilization will have to adapt, be smart, make painful adjustments — and maybe that's a salutary thing. The alternative community sketched out here is offered with that in mind — with high hopes for the future, but with an eye on the exit.
 

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