About a year ago, I began to become fascinated by the idea of social collapse. Not simply the collapse of a particular industry or of another near miss collapse of the economy which would be bailed out by unhappy taxpayers funding the next round of Goldman Sachs bonuses, but the total wholesale systemic cataclysmic collapse of everything.
Of the whole damn system.
My fear started to slowly percolate amid the tidal deluge of so much bad news that came in the form of endless narratives of dystopian American democracy, corporate scandals, and misbegotten wars for both liberation and revenge. Reading the news, watching television, and scanning the Internet blogs – being the voracious consumers of concentrated fractious information fragments as we have all become – it had the cumulative effect of inducing within me a terminal anxiety about the future.
And, fearing for the future, I began to choke on everything: Climate change, terrorism, Federal bail-outs of banks, illegal immigration and drug feuds in Mexico, genocide in Africa, school shootings, and an endless conveyor belt of news stories detailing horrible crimes that reminded me how perfectly awful my species was. We seemed involved in a perpetual game of sadistic escalation, pushing back the boundaries of that which would trigger our outrage.
It felt as if every facet and structure of our world had been pulled taut, that there was no tension left in the line and everything was on a razor’s edge of slipping into some great cataclysm from which there would be no return. Whether it was catastrophic climate change, impending economic collapse, or the outbreak of some new and deadly virus, our last chapter seemed to perpetually exist just a few pages away.
Of course, investigating the phenomenon is a tricky business. It’s one laden with political and ideological landmines and crowded by charlatans. A Google search for “economic collapse” is just as likely to turn up search results for real concerns – like the OMB’s (Office of Management and Budget) forecast of perpetual debts for America’s future far into the mid-point of the new century – as it is to turn up search results for the Trilateral Commission and secret cabals of Jewish bankers.
Of course, feelings of anxiety about the state of the future has been a normative condition among societies since the dawn of civilization. Thinking back to my father’s generation in the 1960s, I often marvel at how chaotic the events of his day must have seemed with the nation entangled in Vietnam, race riots in the streets, the repetitious assassination of important public figures, and the nation held hostage under the specter of Soviet nuclear annihilation. And how many times as a child had I heard my grandfather miserly remarking about the decline of society? It seems reasonable to conclude that as far back as the Sumerians, elders have always been surmising the course of perceived future history with a rueful disdain. Doomsday soothsaying, it seems, is genetically coded into the human DNA.
The sky is always falling.
But then, crisis is averted, the doomsayers feel foolish, and the world rolls on, hobbling and pitched, but moving forward nonetheless.
And this became the question that haunts me: Are the present conditions that define our current state of affairs simply systematic of the ever-present illusion of a society steeped towards terminal decline, or have we traversed far enough along an axis of disorder, that things have finally gotten to a point where we were are in for a chaotic transition of gargantuan proportions? For a systemic collapse?
As a logical proposition, it’s a question easily solved. Nations, resources, and social structure never last forever. It was the only inevitability of history. Just ask the Sumerians. It isn’t so much an issue of if, but when. The idea of systemic collapse seems absurd only in as much that it has never happened before to American society, as if we alone are immune to the long yawning stretch of world history which is cluttered with the debris of so many contracted civilizations. The problem is attempting to define the exact edge at which massive transition occurs, and from the driver’s seat in the paralytic fog of the moment, the landscape plays tricks and the precipice always seems just ahead and around the corner.
And so it becomes that otherwise intelligent people assume that everything will be okay. One of my good friends takes great comfort in this position because the idea of societal contraction is something he simply has no frame of reference for.
But this is the thing: There are measurable and objective scientifically discerned facts which suggest that present-day situations are uniquely different at this present point in time than at any previous point in history. Facts which suggest that how things are now won’t continue as a state of permanency. Facts which suggest that the past isn’t a good guide for the future, because we’ve reached tipping points for which the momentum for change becomes unavoidable.Change that can only result in steep and severe social contraction.
And what are these facts?
Here’s just a few:
Peak Oil. All around the globe, oil reservoirs are in steep decline. This is scientifically proven. In a roughly parallel arc, new discoveries of oil are also diminishing in roughly equal proportion. Demand is growing almost exponentially. Since the Carter administration in the 1970s when America’s own production went past its peak, environmentalists have been sounding the alarm about depleting fossil fuels. Consequently, to the untrained mind, it appears as if nothing has changed, as if being on the edge of the decline is nothing new and certainly nothing to get excited over. Except that we’re capable of more than a gut check reaction that roughly decides the message is the same so the problem is the same. It’s not. Do the math. Geologists all over the world are screaming about it.
Climate change. It’s not just rising temperatures and weird weather. It’s about rivers drying up that feed entire sub-continents. It’s about the changing jet stream and desertification across much of the world’s agricultural belt. Many scientists suggest that it’s already too late to do anything about it. That it’s coming, regardless of what we do.
Mass Extinction. While animal species have always gone extinct and habitats have always been destroyed in parallel pacing with the march of technological progress, we are currently entering what biologists are calling one of the largest extinction periods the world has ever witnessed. That the extinction period we’re entering has only one claim of comparability, and that was when the dinosaurs died. All around the world, fish populations are collapsing beyond the point of recovery. From the polar bear to the whales, mammals, birds, and reptiles are dying off at never seen before rates.
Financial collapse. For half a century the United States and most of the Western world borrowed money to fund and fuel a lifestyle that we couldn’t afford. And now, for the first time in modern history, there are news reports about the previously unfathomable: Modern western democracies potentially defaulting on their loans. Greece gets mentioned a lot. But so does Britain and the United States. And with the USA’s Congressional Budget Office predicting a future of NEVER-ENDING deficits far into this next century, well, it’s safe to say that we’re fucked one way or another, and that’s assuming that we had passed decent financial regulatory reform to ensure that a repeat of the Fall of 2008 never happened again. Which, of course, was never passed.
All of which is to say nothing about our exploding population and a planet that will be ill-equipped to provide the resources needed for sustaining so many.
These are just four of the areas where we seem to be approaching tipping points that have never previously existed before. When people assume the future will be okay because the past was okay, it seems a ridiculous rebuttal. How can we derive a picture of the future from the past when we’ve never had these looming catastrophes before? Catastrophes which, when converged and layered on top of one another, will likely result in severe and intense social contraction.
I’ve seen the future, my friends: We’re fucked.



















