Beorn
03-09-2009, 12:50 AM
At the dawn of the twenty-first century, most people in Britain assumed that life would continue much as it had done for the previous few decades. People would continue to get richer, live longer, and buy fancier electronic gadgets. They would continue to drive cars, work in offices, earn money, and buy their food in supermarkets. Although this way of life was only a few decades old, it seemed as timeless and permanent as the sun and the moon.
A few sceptical voices warned that this sense of permanence was an illusion, that infinite economic growth on a finite planet was impossible, that global warming and the looming energy crisis would soon put an end to the consumer-friendly economy. But few people took any notice. Academics discussed the possibility of economic collapse in comfortably upholstered leather armchairs, and politicians commissioned lengthy reports recommending policies that they had no intention of implementing. And the vast mass of ordinary people went on driving cars, working in offices, earning money, and buying their food in supermarkets.
When the predictions of the sceptics came true, and the economy started creaking, there was no announcement on the evening news, no billboards proclaiming economic collapse. It was much more banal than that. The first signs of impending doom were no more spectacular than inflation and unemployment. It was the price of energy that began to shoot up first. Electricity and gas got more and more expensive, and an ever larger slice of the household budget went on cooking and heating, leaving less for cable TV, fancy clothes and holidays abroad – all of which came increasingly to be seen as luxuries. Petrol doubled in price too, a hard blow to a nation that had become accustomed to driving long distances to work and shopping in out of town superstores. Since the food in those superstores was also transported long distances, often by lorry, the rising price of fuel also pushed up the price of food. Everyone began to feel a lot poorer.
The consequent drop in demand for consumer goods put a lot of shops and companies out of business, and unemployment surged further. Soup kitchens reappeared in most cities, and the number of homeless people rose dramatically as more and more families found they couldn't pay their mortgages any more and their houses were re-possessed.
The news from abroad was increasingly bleak too, as high fuel and energy prices hit the poorer countries even harder than the wealthier ones like Britain. Hardly a day passed without some new outbreak of civil violence in Africa, the Middle East or Asia – riots in some places, insurgency and guerrilla warfare in others. Vast numbers of beleaguered civilians fled these troubles, and the throngs of migrants were swelled by those who simply failed to find work at home. Some of the migrants blamed the West for their problems, and were willing recruits to the expanding ranks of terrorist groups, whose multiplying plots overwhelmed the already overburdened security services. The response, in Britain as elsewhere, was predictable; more surveillance, further restrictions on civil liberties, and tighter border controls.
The beefed-up security budget strained the public purse, which had already been weakened by falling tax revenue as fewer people were in work. Public services were slashed, and all sorts of infrastructure, from roads to sewage plants, was no longer properly maintained. Then the power cuts began. They started as an occasional annoyance, but it wasn't long before the electricity companies were having to schedule them so that people could at least plan for the current being switched off, and turn on their emergency generators, sales of which boomed, as did sales of solar panels and small wind turbines – at least, among those who could still afford such things.
Those who couldn't just used candles, and sat around talking. All of their previous evening activities had depended on electricity, so at first people were at a loss to know how to entertain themselves without it, but a few did eventually begin to rediscover the lost art of conversation, or taught themselves how to play the acoustic guitar. But the loss of light was in many cases accompanied by the loss of heat, as houses with electric radiators were hit by a double whammy. Those with gas central heating looked on smugly at first – until disruptions in the supply of gas from Russia put them in the same boat. People complained loudly to begin with, and then shut up and put on thick sweaters. Whole families took to huddling together in one bed at night just to keep warm, under piles of duvets and blankets. Many older people succumbed to hypothermia.
Cold showers were harder to adapt to, and many people preferred to stay dirty for longer. They had to wash their clothes by hand too, as washing machines were not very effective without hot water, and used too much electricity anyway. People became much smellier, and head lice began to spread rapidly. Duvets became infested with bedbugs, and the health system began to creak under the weight of so many cases of pneumonia. As rubbish collection became increasingly infrequent, rotting food and other waste began to pile up at street corners, and soon there were outbreaks of typhoid and cholera in London and Manchester.
And still most people failed to see that they were living through the beginnings of a catastrophe. Every day on the radio an array of experts could be heard claiming that a return to prosperity was just around the corner, and suggesting policy initiatives that would turn the economy around. More ominously, increasing air-time was given over to the leaders of extremist movements, political and religious, who took advantage of the growing fear and despair to promote their gospels of hate.
Then came hurricane Gina. When it hit New York, on 30 September 2012, it did much more than make a lot of people and companies homeless. The insurance market was overwhelmed by the claims, and the resulting financial panic spread from one stock market to another like a forest fire. The dollar lost half its value in one day. The Chinese sold their dollar reserves, causing the dollar to collapse still further. All major currencies went into free fall. Inflation spiralled out of control. Soon, money was hardly worth having at all.
Suddenly, most businesses were no longer viable. All the big supermarkets virtually shut down overnight. Panic buying ensued, and attempts by the government to impose rationing failed dismally. Within a day, there was nothing left on the supermarket shelves. Looters began raiding the remaining shops that still had food, and the army was deployed in all the major cities. But the soldiers were ill-prepared for keeping martial law in their own country, and the trickle of desertions soon became a flood. Likewise, most police officers preferred to stay at home to protect their own families than face the angry mobs rampaging through the city streets.
Huge numbers of people began to flee the cities – mostly on foot, as the scarcity of petrol made driving a rarity. Most of the refugees did not get very far. Unaccustomed to sleeping outdoors or even camping, the cold winter weather put paid to thousands. Those who survived the frosty nights grew weaker to hunger and disease.
All that seems a long time ago now. Today, in the year 2025, things have calmed down a lot. There are still some people living the cities, but on the whole they aren't nice places to be. The only way to make a reasonable living there now is by prostitution, drug-dealing, or protection rackets. Those who aren't involved in these lucrative trades struggle to make ends meet. They pull the copper out of the walls and rip out sinks and pipework to swap for food on street corners. They would love to move out to the country, but they know it's too late for that now – those who already live there don't look kindly on incomers. In fact, they have a nasty habit of killing them.
Back in the first decade of the twenty-first century, before the crash, some of few people who saw the writing on the wall got together and started preparing for the challenging times ahead. They set up self-sufficient communities in rural areas far enough away from the major cities to avoid the first wave of refugees. They taught themselves many old crafts that had been widespread before the industrial revolution, but which had largely died out in the twentieth century, such as weaving and smelting. They also learned to defend themselves against attacks by hostile strangers. And they began to store up cultural artefacts – books, music, works of art – to preserve for posterity, like secular equivalents of the European monasteries which preserved the great books of classical antiquity throughout the Dark Ages, and so enabled future generations to enjoy these ancient treasures.
One of those communities was called the utopia experiment. Nowadays, those of us who live here, simply call it utopia. It's not quite as ironic a name as it might first appear. For what we've discovered is that, in many ways, things are better now than they were before the crash – at least, it is for those of us who are lucky enough to live out here in the countryside. The air is much cleaner for one thing, and the wildlife has made a comeback. People have a lot more time to spend with their children, and neighbours are always helping each other out. And all that walking around and manual labour means that people are a lot fitter than they used to be. You certainly don't see any fat people any more. We like to think that the crash gave some people a second chance, an opportunity to escape from the awful state we'd got ourselves into in the late twentieth century.
Source (http://www.dylan.org.uk/utopia/scenario.html)
Sounds like a very possible scenario within our lifetimes.
How did the experiment go? Was it a success or a failure?
A few sceptical voices warned that this sense of permanence was an illusion, that infinite economic growth on a finite planet was impossible, that global warming and the looming energy crisis would soon put an end to the consumer-friendly economy. But few people took any notice. Academics discussed the possibility of economic collapse in comfortably upholstered leather armchairs, and politicians commissioned lengthy reports recommending policies that they had no intention of implementing. And the vast mass of ordinary people went on driving cars, working in offices, earning money, and buying their food in supermarkets.
When the predictions of the sceptics came true, and the economy started creaking, there was no announcement on the evening news, no billboards proclaiming economic collapse. It was much more banal than that. The first signs of impending doom were no more spectacular than inflation and unemployment. It was the price of energy that began to shoot up first. Electricity and gas got more and more expensive, and an ever larger slice of the household budget went on cooking and heating, leaving less for cable TV, fancy clothes and holidays abroad – all of which came increasingly to be seen as luxuries. Petrol doubled in price too, a hard blow to a nation that had become accustomed to driving long distances to work and shopping in out of town superstores. Since the food in those superstores was also transported long distances, often by lorry, the rising price of fuel also pushed up the price of food. Everyone began to feel a lot poorer.
The consequent drop in demand for consumer goods put a lot of shops and companies out of business, and unemployment surged further. Soup kitchens reappeared in most cities, and the number of homeless people rose dramatically as more and more families found they couldn't pay their mortgages any more and their houses were re-possessed.
The news from abroad was increasingly bleak too, as high fuel and energy prices hit the poorer countries even harder than the wealthier ones like Britain. Hardly a day passed without some new outbreak of civil violence in Africa, the Middle East or Asia – riots in some places, insurgency and guerrilla warfare in others. Vast numbers of beleaguered civilians fled these troubles, and the throngs of migrants were swelled by those who simply failed to find work at home. Some of the migrants blamed the West for their problems, and were willing recruits to the expanding ranks of terrorist groups, whose multiplying plots overwhelmed the already overburdened security services. The response, in Britain as elsewhere, was predictable; more surveillance, further restrictions on civil liberties, and tighter border controls.
The beefed-up security budget strained the public purse, which had already been weakened by falling tax revenue as fewer people were in work. Public services were slashed, and all sorts of infrastructure, from roads to sewage plants, was no longer properly maintained. Then the power cuts began. They started as an occasional annoyance, but it wasn't long before the electricity companies were having to schedule them so that people could at least plan for the current being switched off, and turn on their emergency generators, sales of which boomed, as did sales of solar panels and small wind turbines – at least, among those who could still afford such things.
Those who couldn't just used candles, and sat around talking. All of their previous evening activities had depended on electricity, so at first people were at a loss to know how to entertain themselves without it, but a few did eventually begin to rediscover the lost art of conversation, or taught themselves how to play the acoustic guitar. But the loss of light was in many cases accompanied by the loss of heat, as houses with electric radiators were hit by a double whammy. Those with gas central heating looked on smugly at first – until disruptions in the supply of gas from Russia put them in the same boat. People complained loudly to begin with, and then shut up and put on thick sweaters. Whole families took to huddling together in one bed at night just to keep warm, under piles of duvets and blankets. Many older people succumbed to hypothermia.
Cold showers were harder to adapt to, and many people preferred to stay dirty for longer. They had to wash their clothes by hand too, as washing machines were not very effective without hot water, and used too much electricity anyway. People became much smellier, and head lice began to spread rapidly. Duvets became infested with bedbugs, and the health system began to creak under the weight of so many cases of pneumonia. As rubbish collection became increasingly infrequent, rotting food and other waste began to pile up at street corners, and soon there were outbreaks of typhoid and cholera in London and Manchester.
And still most people failed to see that they were living through the beginnings of a catastrophe. Every day on the radio an array of experts could be heard claiming that a return to prosperity was just around the corner, and suggesting policy initiatives that would turn the economy around. More ominously, increasing air-time was given over to the leaders of extremist movements, political and religious, who took advantage of the growing fear and despair to promote their gospels of hate.
Then came hurricane Gina. When it hit New York, on 30 September 2012, it did much more than make a lot of people and companies homeless. The insurance market was overwhelmed by the claims, and the resulting financial panic spread from one stock market to another like a forest fire. The dollar lost half its value in one day. The Chinese sold their dollar reserves, causing the dollar to collapse still further. All major currencies went into free fall. Inflation spiralled out of control. Soon, money was hardly worth having at all.
Suddenly, most businesses were no longer viable. All the big supermarkets virtually shut down overnight. Panic buying ensued, and attempts by the government to impose rationing failed dismally. Within a day, there was nothing left on the supermarket shelves. Looters began raiding the remaining shops that still had food, and the army was deployed in all the major cities. But the soldiers were ill-prepared for keeping martial law in their own country, and the trickle of desertions soon became a flood. Likewise, most police officers preferred to stay at home to protect their own families than face the angry mobs rampaging through the city streets.
Huge numbers of people began to flee the cities – mostly on foot, as the scarcity of petrol made driving a rarity. Most of the refugees did not get very far. Unaccustomed to sleeping outdoors or even camping, the cold winter weather put paid to thousands. Those who survived the frosty nights grew weaker to hunger and disease.
All that seems a long time ago now. Today, in the year 2025, things have calmed down a lot. There are still some people living the cities, but on the whole they aren't nice places to be. The only way to make a reasonable living there now is by prostitution, drug-dealing, or protection rackets. Those who aren't involved in these lucrative trades struggle to make ends meet. They pull the copper out of the walls and rip out sinks and pipework to swap for food on street corners. They would love to move out to the country, but they know it's too late for that now – those who already live there don't look kindly on incomers. In fact, they have a nasty habit of killing them.
Back in the first decade of the twenty-first century, before the crash, some of few people who saw the writing on the wall got together and started preparing for the challenging times ahead. They set up self-sufficient communities in rural areas far enough away from the major cities to avoid the first wave of refugees. They taught themselves many old crafts that had been widespread before the industrial revolution, but which had largely died out in the twentieth century, such as weaving and smelting. They also learned to defend themselves against attacks by hostile strangers. And they began to store up cultural artefacts – books, music, works of art – to preserve for posterity, like secular equivalents of the European monasteries which preserved the great books of classical antiquity throughout the Dark Ages, and so enabled future generations to enjoy these ancient treasures.
One of those communities was called the utopia experiment. Nowadays, those of us who live here, simply call it utopia. It's not quite as ironic a name as it might first appear. For what we've discovered is that, in many ways, things are better now than they were before the crash – at least, it is for those of us who are lucky enough to live out here in the countryside. The air is much cleaner for one thing, and the wildlife has made a comeback. People have a lot more time to spend with their children, and neighbours are always helping each other out. And all that walking around and manual labour means that people are a lot fitter than they used to be. You certainly don't see any fat people any more. We like to think that the crash gave some people a second chance, an opportunity to escape from the awful state we'd got ourselves into in the late twentieth century.
Source (http://www.dylan.org.uk/utopia/scenario.html)
Sounds like a very possible scenario within our lifetimes.
How did the experiment go? Was it a success or a failure?