Category Archives: Materials

172. Deterioration and Debt: When 1960s Concrete Reaches the End of Its Age

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This article forms part of an ongoing series exploring the transition from the industrial economy to a new age of localism. It examines the decline of 1960s and 70s concrete structures as symbols of the industrial era, drawing on insights from the recent Consciousness of Sheep article ‘Thermodynamic drag’ to illustrate the wider shift from mass mobility to local living.

In a perceptive recent article titled “Thermodynamic drag” (Consciousness of Sheep, 7 October 2025), the author draws attention to the accelerating failures of mid-20th-century concrete infrastructure and the economic paradox of debt repayment built on
decaying physical capital. (Read it here: https://consciousnessofsheep.co.uk/2025/10/07/thermodynamic-drag/)

The article highlights the closure of key bridges and roads across the UK — from the Severn Bridge (opened 1966) to local crossings now deemed unsafe — as examples of how “permanent” assets from the 1960s and 70s are approaching the limits of
their design lives. These structures, built for an industrial society based on expansion and mass mobility, were never expected to last more than 40 to 60 years without major renewal. That time has arrived.

Concrete as the Architecture of the Industrial Age

The great concrete programmes of the post-war decades were more than engineering projects. They were the physical expression of the industrial age — an age built on fossil energy, cheap transport, and the belief that growth was both inevitable and
desirable.

Multi-storey car parks, motorway flyovers, office towers, and elevated walkways embodied a confidence in permanent mobility. The concrete bridge or civic centre was a declaration that humanity had mastered materials and space; that cities would continue
to expand, and that cars, lorries, and buses would circulate forever.

Those assumptions are now failing. The industrial economy that justified this infrastructure is itself contracting. As the Thermodynamic drag article notes, maintenance has become prohibitively expensive and technically complex, and the fiscal
capacity of the state is shrinking. What were once symbols of progress have become liabilities — both physically and financially.

The End of the 40-Year Illusion

Most reinforced concrete structures from that era were designed with a working life of 40 to 60 years. Engineers knew corrosion, carbonation, and freeze–thaw cycles would eventually take their toll, but few imagined that the world would change so completely
in the same timeframe.

Now, the debts incurred to build them are long paid — but the structures themselves are deteriorating, often invisibly, until failure becomes imminent. Governments face a cruel choice: spend heavily to keep them standing, or accept decay and the risk
of collapse.

Yet the deeper question may be whether they need to be replaced at all.

A New Context: From Industrial Expansion to Local Living

The age of localism that is now emerging will depend less on high-speed travel and more on proximity, resilience, and self-sufficiency. As energy costs rise and discretionary travel declines, people will live, work, and trade closer to home.  The physical infrastructure of this new society will look very different from that of the industrial age.

Many of the concrete structures now crumbling — motorway interchanges, flyovers, urban ring roads, car parks, and concrete office blocks — were designed to serve a pattern of life that may no longer continue. In a localised economy, the movement
of goods and people will be shorter, slower, and more purposeful. Large-scale transport architecture may simply be redundant.

Thus, the decay of these structures is not only an engineering failure but also a sign of cultural transition: the old framework of mass mobility giving way to the emerging pattern of local life.

The Strategic Choices: Sustain, Abandon, or Repurpose

Decision-makers now face three broad options:

  • 1. Extend their life through expensive repairs and reinforcement — a path that sustains the    illusion of permanence but commits scarce resources to an outdated model.
  • 2. Abandon or decommission structures whose functions are no longer essential, allowing decay to proceed safely or replacing them with green corridors, cycle routes, or community uses.
  • 3. Repurpose locally — adapting former car parks, viaducts, or civic complexes for smaller-scale, community-based activities consistent with a lower-energy, localised future.

The third path aligns most closely with localism: rather than fighting decay, it accepts the passing of an age and seeks to reuse what remains.

Rethinking Permanence

The Thermodynamic drag article argues that debt-based systems presume permanence — yet all material structures are subject to entropy.  This insight is crucial for the years ahead. When the economy slows and energy availability declines, the concept of “asset life” must be reinterpreted. Instead of investing to maintain obsolete structures, we may need to focus on new forms of permanence — living systems, productive landscapes, and small-scale infrastructures that can be sustained locally.

The collapse of post-war concrete is therefore not only a warning but an opportunity: to move beyond the industrial ideal of endless growth and towards a more grounded, durable relationship between people, place, and material.

Conclusion: Letting the Old Age Crumble

The decaying concrete of the 1960s and ’70s is a fitting metaphor for the end of the industrial era. What was once the embodiment of modernity is now the visible residue of an age of excess energy and centralised ambition.

We can either struggle to preserve it — pouring more money, materials, and emissions into failing structures — or accept its decline as part of a natural transition.

In the age of localism, we will need fewer vast bridges and car parks, and more modest, human-scaled infrastructure that supports local production and limited travel.

The article “Thermodynamic drag” captures this turning point powerfully. Its warning about the collapse of 1960s concrete is not merely technical — it is symbolic. The old industrial foundations are giving way.

What rises next will depend on our willingness to live within imits and rebuild life locally.

Read the article here: https://consciousnessofsheep.co.uk/2025/10/07/thermodynamic-drag/

170. Steel and Timber: A Tale of Two Lifecycles

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In the first part of this series we asked how we might escape the Iron Age, this part asks what might replace it.

Steel and timber offer two very different pathways into the future. One depends on vast global systems; the other draws strength from locality and renewal.

1. The making of materials

Steel begins its life in the ground. Iron ore is mined, transported, smelted in blast furnaces, mixed with coke made from coal, and then rolled, forged, and shipped across continents. Each stage demands heavy machinery, high temperatures, and long supply chains. A tonne of new steel typically produces around 1.8 tonnes of CO₂ before it reaches a construction site.

Note: One tonne = about one metric ton

Timber starts with sunlight, rain, and soil. Its energy source is the sun itself. The conversion from raw tree to beam or panel requires cutting, drying, and shaping, but the energy inputs are a fraction of those of steel. A cubic metre of sawn timber can store roughly one tonne of CO₂ absorbed during growth. Properly managed, forests can provide a renewable feedstock rather than a mined one.

2. Durability and repair

Steel’s great virtue is strength and predictability. It resists bending, carries high loads, and lasts for decades. Yet it rusts, fatigues, and fails if maintenance lapses. Protective coatings and paint systems require periodic renewal, often using petrochemical products. Once corrosion takes hold, repair can be costly or impossible.

Timber decays in damp conditions but can be protected naturally—through design, ventilation, and maintenance rather than chemicals. Traditional carpentry allowed parts to be replaced, patched, or scarfed in. A timber bridge or hall can last centuries, provided its joints stay dry. In a shrinking economy where labour is plentiful but energy is scarce, repairable materials gain new value.

3. Embodied energy and recycling

Steel can be recycled almost indefinitely, but recycling itself requires heat—usually from electricity or gas. The world already recycles about 30–40% of its steel, but as De Decker notes, there isn’t enough scrap to meet ongoing demand. Recycling is useful but cannot expand faster than old structures wear out.

Timber recycling is simpler. Offcuts can be re-milled, reused, or burned for heat. In an informal economy, where waste and fuel merge, every scrap can serve a second purpose. And because timber’s embodied energy is low, even one reuse cycle dramatically improves its lifetime carbon profile.

4. Scale and land

Timber has one serious limitation: it grows slowly and needs land. Converting the entire industrial system to wood would be impossible. But that is not the point. A shrinking economy does not require steel and timber on equal industrial scale. It requires balance—small wooden structures locally made, with the remaining steel reserved for essential heavy tasks: railways, tools, and key machinery.

In this way, contraction becomes an ally. As material demand falls, the renewable capacity of woodlands can begin to match human need. Forestry becomes a cornerstone of local resilience rather than a global commodity.

5. Localism as a lifecycle

In industrial thinking, a material’s lifecycle ends at the scrap yard.

In a local economy, the cycle loops within walking distance: trees become beams, beams become buildings, offcuts heat the workshop, and ash returns to the soil. Each step feeds the next.

Steel belongs to the age of extraction. Timber belongs to the age of regeneration.

6. Living well within limits

Steel’s story is one of power: how humans mastered fire and ore. Timber’s story is one of relationship: how we work with what grows around us.

As the economy contracts, the balance shifts from extraction to stewardship. The materials we choose will shape not only our buildings, but our way of life.

A timber economy will not replace steel in every task. But it can replace the mindset that built the Iron Age in the first place.

169. Escaping the Iron Age: Steel, Wood, and the Shrinking Economy

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Kris De Decker’s article How to Escape from the Iron Age? casts a stark light on one of modern society’s hidden constraints: steel. Every bridge, vehicle, wind turbine, and machine depends on it. Steel is the backbone of the industrial economy – and one of the most carbon-intensive materials we produce.

De Decker highlights a painful contradiction. To build the renewable energy systems that might decarbonise industry, we need vast amounts of steel. Yet producing that steel today depends on fossil fuels. Recycling cannot close the loop: there isn’t enough scrap, and different grades don’t easily match.

His conclusion is firm. Use lighter vehicles. Build smaller, simpler structures. Prevent corrosion. Make more use of recycled steel. Scale our systems down to fit what can be sustained.

The industrial mindset

This is sensible, but it still assumes an industrial mindset. De Decker writes as though the economy will keep on growing – just with fewer tonnes of steel. The vision is essentially industrial society, only slimmer.

But what if that assumption is wrong? What if the age of growth is over?

Steel in a shrinking economy

A shrinking economy changes the terms of the question. Instead of asking how to sustain expansion, we ask how to live well with contraction. That means fewer mega-projects, less long-distance trade, and less reliance on global steel plants tied to fossil fuels.

It is in this context that wood and other biological materials come to the fore.

The case for wood

Wood is not a perfect substitute. It has limitations in terms of scale, durability, and land use. However, those limits appear differently in a downsizing world. We will not need endless skyscrapers, superhighways, or sprawling steel-framed warehouses. What we will need are homes, workshops, halls, small bridges, and local infrastructure.

Here, wood, straw, hemp, earth, and carpentry excel. Timber structures, when well-maintained, can last for centuries. Engineered wood can carry heavy loads and span wide spaces. Local forests and sawmills can provide building materials without relying on global supply chains or fossil-fuel-based blast furnaces.

Local skills and trades

A shift toward a wood-based economy would also be consistent with localism. Carpenters, joiners, lime-plasterers, sawyers, and forestry workers would become essential trades again. Each community could use the resources of its surrounding land. Waste cycles would be shorter. Skills would be preserved and shared locally rather than outsourced to distant steel complexes.

Living well with less

The real lesson is not simply to ration steel within the old industrial frame. It is to accept contraction – and design a smaller, lighter, more local economy. In that future, wood and other plant-based materials are not just substitutes. They are central to living well within limits.