by TrueKaiser » Tue 08 Mar 2005, 23:48:04
$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('Ayoob_Reloaded', 'I') mean, we're basically right on the verge, right? Whether it's right now or three years or five years or even ten, you know, that doesn't really make much of a difference.
We're actually going to be the ones in the front seat of the rollercoaster on its way down. We are going to watch it happen all around us and have to figure out how we need to behave in order to have what we think of as a favorable outcome.
We are going to be some of the ones who decide how this is going to happen.
Do we decide to have mobs of millions of starving people looting and ransacking everything in sight from inside our concrete bunkers?
Do we decide to give in to an Orwellian big-brother authoritarian state that will decide everything for you in advance, and your chocolate ration will increase to 25 grams per week?
Do we let the old and the sick die off so we don't have to support them anymore?
What's this going to look like after the fact? Will we pull an Easter Island and erect SUV statues in people's front yards?
At the moment, it's looking more and more like 1984 to me than any of the other choices, except the lower classes will be tracked just as thoroughly and completely as the middle class. What middle class, really.
Wow.
I'm just totally floored by this again. It hits me every once in a while, you know? Right now, I really am just right in the middle of realizing what's coming and how it's going to affect me and my family and all my friends, and everybody I've ever worked with and all the people who live in my neighborhood right now.
well if you look at the history of society collapse, you will see that there will be no raving mobs of starving people as so many people here hope to happen. what will happen is you will see a painfully slow decline as this quote from a recent article i read explains better then i could.
$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('', '
')Leave out the deus ex machina of progressive and apocalyptic mythologies, map the results onto a scale of human lifespans, and a likely future emerges. Imagine an American woman born in 1960. She sees the gas lines of the 1970s, the short-term political gimmicks that papered over the crisis in the 1980s and 1990s, and renewed trouble in the following decades. Soaring energy prices, shortages, economic depressions, and resource wars shape the rest of her life. By age 70, she lives in a beleaguered, malfunctioning city where half the population has no reliable access to clean water, electricity, or health care. Shantytowns spread in the shadow of skyscrapers while political and economic leaders keep insisting that things are getting better.
Her great-grandson, born in 2030, manages to avoid the smorgasbord of diseases, the pervasive violence, and the pandemic alcohol and drug abuse that claim half of his generation before age 30. A lucky break gets him into a technical career, safe from military service in endless wars overseas or "pacification actions" against separatist guerrillas at home. His technical knowledge consists mostly of rules of thumb for effective scavenging, cars and refrigerators are luxury items he will never own, his home lacks electricity and central heating, and his health care comes from an old woman whose grandmother was a doctor and who knows something about wound care and herbs. By the time his hair turns gray the squabbling regions that were once the United States have split apart, all remaining fuel and electrical power have been commandeered by the new governments, and coastal cities are being abandoned to the rising oceans.
For his great-granddaughter, born in 2100, the great crises are mostly things of the past. She grows up amid a ring of sparsely populated villages surrounding an abandoned core of rusting skyscrapers visited only by salvage crews who mine them for raw materials. Local wars sputter, the oceans are still rising, and famines and epidemics are a familiar reality, but with global population maybe 15% of what it was in 2000, humanity and nature are moving toward balance. She learns to read and write, a skill most of her neighbors don't have, and a few old books are among her prized possessions, but the days when men walked on the moon are fading into legend. When she and her family finally set out for a village in the countryside, leaving the husk of the old city to the salvage crews, it never occurs to her that her quiet footsteps on a crumbling asphalt road mark the end of a civilization.