395. The Energy Crisis Will Be a Crisis of Affordability

This article was prompted by Gail Tverberg’s important essay, “Affordability, Not Scarcity, Is the Real Energy Crisis”, published on Our Finite World. Her original article, including its charts and detailed historical analysis, should be read at the link.

The conventional picture of an energy crisis is one of physical shortage. Oil wells begin to run dry, petrol prices soar and queues form outside filling stations. Governments respond by searching for new supplies or subsidising alternatives.

Tverberg presents a more complicated and much more disturbing possibility. The immediate problem may not be that the world has no oil, gas or coal left. It may be that the economy can no longer afford to extract and use them at the prices producers require.

Energy can therefore become unaffordable in two different ways.

If its price rises sufficiently to cover the increasing cost of extraction, transport and processing, households and businesses cannot afford to buy enough of it. Demand falls and the economy contracts.

If its price falls to what consumers can afford, producers may be unable to justify investment in new mines, wells, pipelines, refineries and power stations. Production then becomes financially unviable.

There may be plenty of energy remaining underground, yet no price at which the whole system works satisfactorily.

Energy and economic growth

The industrial economy did not develop independently of energy. It was created by the growing availability of relatively cheap coal, oil and gas.

Cheap energy allowed mechanised farming, mass manufacturing and long-distance transport. It supported the growth of large cities and international supply chains. It enabled rising wages, expanding consumer markets and the construction of millions of homes. Credit could expand because lenders expected future economic growth to make debts repayable.

Tverberg connects periods of rapidly growing energy consumption with rising living standards. She also identifies troubled periods when energy consumption grew slowly or contracted. These periods were associated with financial crises, political instability, wars and the failure of governments.

This does not mean that energy alone explains every historical event. It does suggest that political and financial systems become much harder to sustain when the energy available to support each person is no longer increasing.

Our present arrangements were built during an age of expansion. They depend upon continuing expansion. Governments, pension systems, banks, property markets and businesses all make promises based upon the assumption that tomorrow’s economy will be larger than today’s.

If the economy is shrinking instead, many of those promises cannot be honoured.

Why low prices are not necessarily good news

We are accustomed to regarding falling oil prices as beneficial. They reduce the cost of transport, heating and production.

In a weakening economy, however, a low oil price may be evidence that households and businesses lack purchasing power. People travel less, buy fewer cars, postpone buying homes and reduce discretionary spending. Factories produce less and freight movements decline.

Falling demand then pushes energy prices below the level needed by producers. Investment is cancelled. Older fields continue to decline and new supplies are not developed quickly enough.

The apparent abundance may therefore be misleading. Oil is available, but only because fewer people can afford to use it. Meanwhile, the productive system required to maintain future supplies is deteriorating.

This explains why scarcity and affordability cannot be separated from the wider economy. A barrel of oil has no economic value unless someone can afford to buy the products made from it. Equally, an oilfield cannot continue operating unless its income covers the cost of machinery, skilled labour, finance and replacement infrastructure.

The debt problem

Debt has allowed governments and households to postpone recognition of the affordability crisis.

Borrowing creates additional spending power in the present. It can support house prices, consumer spending, public services and business investment even when underlying prosperity is weakening. But borrowing is a claim upon future production.

If future production does not grow, the debt becomes harder to service. Governments borrow more to cover existing commitments. Businesses refinance loans that cannot realistically be repaid. Households devote a rising proportion of their income to mortgages, rent, energy and food.

Eventually, borrowing ceases to disguise contraction and begins to intensify it. Banks become cautious. Investment falls. Property prices weaken. Unemployment increases and tax receipts decline.

The financial economy may continue to report growth for a time, particularly when inflation is included. The material economy can nevertheless be shrinking underneath it.

The implications for the future

The future may not be characterised by one dramatic moment when energy suddenly runs out. It is more likely to consist of repeated losses of affordability.

People will give up discretionary purchases first. New cars, holidays, restaurant meals, entertainment and non-essential household improvements will become less frequent. Businesses dependent upon these purchases will contract.

Housebuilding will suffer because the combined cost of land, materials, energy, labour, finance and regulation exceeds what buyers can afford. Existing property prices may also weaken as mortgages become harder to obtain and household incomes come under pressure.

Governments will face the same difficulty. The cost of maintaining roads, hospitals, schools, defence, pensions and public administration will rise while the tax base becomes less dependable. Borrowing may postpone reductions, but it cannot permanently replace the productive economy from which public revenue ultimately comes.

Large projects will become particularly vulnerable. High-speed railways, data centres, complex renewable-energy systems and major urban developments require huge quantities of energy, materials, finance and specialist labour. A government may announce them, but completion and continued maintenance are separate questions.

Global supply chains will also become less reliable. Higher shipping, insurance and financing costs must be absorbed somewhere. Consumers may be unable to pay more, while producers and farmers cannot indefinitely accept less.

The result is likely to be declining variety as well as declining quantity. Goods that depend upon complicated international supply systems may disappear long before the basic materials from which they are made become physically exhausted.

The localist response

Tverberg describes the economy as a self-organising system. When one form of economic organisation becomes unworkable, people do not simply stop living. They find different ways of meeting their needs.

This is where localism becomes important.

Localism is not a government scheme for reproducing the present economy on a smaller scale. It is the natural reorganisation of economic life around what remains necessary, affordable and locally possible.

Food production, repair, care, basic building, water management, woodland work and small-scale energy provision will become relatively more important. Discretionary employment will decline, releasing people who will need to find useful work closer to where they live.

Localities with fertile land, water, practical skills, workshops and strong social relationships may be more prosperous in real terms than places which retain high financial incomes but depend completely upon distant supplies.

Prosperity will have to be understood differently. It may consist less of the number of new products purchased and more of secure food, maintained homes, dependable neighbours and access to essential services.

National government will remain necessary for activities such as defence, telecommunications, specialist medicine, intercity rail and the maintenance of a common legal and monetary framework. But it may no longer possess the resources to organise every aspect of life from the centre.

More responsibility will fall upon localities, families, small businesses and informal networks. This will not necessarily happen because government deliberately chooses localism. It will happen because centralised systems become too expensive and unreliable.

Preparing for a different economy

The importance of Tverberg’s argument is that it moves the discussion beyond the simple question of how much energy remains.

The decisive question is how much useful energy society can afford after meeting the costs of obtaining it. If those costs rise while household purchasing power falls, the industrial economy can contract even though substantial physical resources remain.

Governments will continue to describe each difficulty as temporary. They will promise renewed growth through borrowing, technology or investment. Some innovations will undoubtedly help. But technology cannot remove its own dependence upon energy, materials, infrastructure and paying customers.

The sensible response is not to attempt to predict an exact date for collapse. It is to make households and localities less dependent upon systems whose affordability is deteriorating.

The future may contain less energy, less mobility and fewer material choices. It need not contain less human purpose. As the growth economy loses its ability to provide, people will begin to rebuild economic life around necessity, proximity and sufficiency.

Localism will not prevent the shrinking economy. It is how we may learn to live within it.

394. When Complexity Becomes Fragility

Two apparently unrelated events tell us something important about the decline of the industrial era.

A technical failure in Britain’s air traffic control system caused delays and cancellations across the country. At the same time, Jaguar Land Rover announced plans to remove about 4,000 jobs over two years as it seeks £1.7 billion in savings. Its difficulties include competition from Chinese manufacturers, tariffs, high costs and the immense expense of developing new electric vehicles.

Neither event means that aviation or motor manufacturing is about to disappear. Both, however, illustrate the vulnerability of an industrial economy that has become extraordinarily complex.

A small failure with national consequences

Britain’s airspace did not run out of aircraft, pilots, fuel, airports or air traffic controllers. The disruption arose because of a failure in the flight-processing system operated by NATS.

That single system sits at the centre of an enormous network. It must receive flight plans, identify aircraft, calculate routes, avoid conflicts and pass reliable information to controllers. It connects airports, airlines, pilots, computers, communications networks and control centres.

When it falters, the consequences spread almost immediately. An aircraft that cannot leave Heathrow may be needed for a later flight from Edinburgh. Its crew may exceed permitted working hours. Passengers miss connections. Baggage is separated from its owners. Hotels fill. airline booking systems become overloaded. Disruption spreads to airports in other countries.

NATS said that the fault on 8 September was in its flight-processing system and that, although a fix had been implemented, recovery would take time. NATS statement

This is the nature of a highly interconnected system. The immediate fault may be small, but its consequences are not.

The efficiency trap

Industrial civilisation has spent two centuries increasing productivity by increasing specialisation.

An airline does not make its own aircraft, engines, computers or aviation fuel. A motor manufacturer does not produce all its own steel, glass, electronics, batteries and software. Each depends upon thousands of specialists, scattered across many countries.

This arrangement can be wonderfully efficient. Components are produced wherever skills, labour and capital can be most profitably combined. Stocks are kept low. Machinery is used intensively. Computer systems coordinate everything.

But efficiency and resilience are not the same thing.

A resilient system contains spare capacity, alternative suppliers, duplicate equipment and stocks that may never be used. These appear inefficient when accountants examine them. The pressure to reduce costs therefore removes much of the redundancy that could protect the system when something goes wrong.

The result is a tightly coupled economy. Almost everything depends upon everything else.

Jaguar Land Rover and the complexity of the modern car

The same problem can be seen at Jaguar Land Rover. The company is reportedly planning about 4,000 voluntary redundancies, nearly a tenth of its worldwide workforce, as it attempts to reduce costs. Reuters report

A modern Land Rover is no longer simply a mechanical vehicle. It is a computer-controlled system incorporating semiconductors, sensors, software, cameras, emissions equipment, communications technology and electronic safety systems. An electric version requires batteries, critical minerals, power electronics, charging equipment and an adequate electricity network.

The factory itself is only the visible centre of a much larger organism. Around it are toolmakers, component manufacturers, software companies, energy suppliers, transport businesses and specialist engineers. If one essential component is unavailable, a production line costing millions of pounds may have to stop.

JLR’s experience of a damaging cyberattack in 2025 demonstrated another aspect of this dependence. Digital systems make production quicker and more controllable, but they also create new ways in which an entire business can be interrupted. The more activities that are joined through one computer system, the more extensive the consequences when it fails.

Its present difficulties are not caused by complexity alone. Chinese competition, American tariffs, changing consumer demand and the costs of electrification all matter. Yet these pressures themselves reveal the scale of modern industrial dependence. A British factory can be placed in difficulty by decisions made in Washington, subsidies paid in Beijing, minerals mined in distant countries and software failures that may originate almost anywhere.

Complexity requires a large surplus

Complexity does not maintain itself for nothing.

Air traffic control requires secure buildings, computers, communications equipment, software, electricity, trained engineers and constant updating. Motor manufacturing requires mines, refineries, chemical works, ports, roads, electricity networks, research laboratories and global finance.

All of this depends upon the economy producing a substantial surplus beyond the immediate requirements of food, shelter, heat and basic care.

During the expanding industrial era, abundant fossil energy made that surplus possible. Coal, oil and gas enabled machines to perform work that would otherwise have required enormous amounts of human and animal labour. Increasing energy use supported longer supply chains, greater specialisation and more layers of administration.

In a shrinking economy, the difficulty is not necessarily that energy or materials cease to exist. It is that their cost consumes a growing share of what the economy produces. Less surplus remains to maintain the complicated systems built during the age of expansion.

Maintenance is then postponed. Old computer systems are patched instead of replaced. Skilled workers are lost. Spare capacity is removed. Manufacturers reduce staff and suppliers operate on narrow margins. Organisations may still appear to function normally, but their resilience gradually declines.

Failures become more frequent and recovery becomes more difficult.

Failure does not remain in one sector

We often discuss aviation, manufacturing, electricity, telecommunications, finance and public services as though they were separate activities. In reality, they form a single interdependent system.

A factory depends upon electricity. The electricity network depends upon digital control and telecommunications. Telecommunications depend upon electricity and imported equipment. Employees depend upon transport. Suppliers depend upon banks and computerised payments. All depend upon people being fed, housed and cared for.

This creates the possibility of cascading failure:

  • A computer fault disrupts flights.
  • Cancelled flights prevent workers and components reaching their destinations.
  • A factory closes temporarily because a component has not arrived.
  • Its suppliers lose income.
  • Employees reduce their spending.
  • Local shops and services lose customers.
  • Government receives less tax while demands for assistance increase.

No single event causes the decline of the industrial economy. Decline emerges from the accumulating interaction of thousands of such difficulties.

Can technology solve the problem?

The conventional answer is to add more technology. Old computers will be replaced by newer ones. Artificial intelligence will monitor networks. Vehicles will become more automated. Factories will use more robots. Supply chains will be digitally mapped.

Some of this will undoubtedly help. But every new technological layer also requires energy, hardware, communications, software, skilled maintenance and protection against cyberattack.

Technology can reduce one form of complexity while creating another. A mechanical control that can be understood and repaired locally may be replaced by software that is more efficient but depends upon distant specialists and systems. The immediate task becomes easier, while the supporting structure becomes larger.

The question is therefore not simply whether a new technology works. We must ask whether the whole system required to support it can remain affordable and dependable in a shrinking economy.

From maximum efficiency to sufficient resilience

The lesson is not that Britain should abandon aviation, advanced engineering or motor manufacturing. Some large and complicated systems will remain essential. But we may have to operate fewer of them and protect them more carefully.

Critical national systems need genuine fallback arrangements. Businesses need alternative suppliers, stocks of vital components and the ability to continue some operations when digital systems fail. This will cost more and may reduce apparent productivity. It will nevertheless make the economy less vulnerable.

At the same time, activities that do not need to be organised nationally or globally should be brought closer to the people who depend upon them.

Food production, repair, care, small-scale manufacturing and many everyday services can be organised within localities. Shorter supply chains will not eliminate failure, but they will make failures easier to understand and contain. A locality that retains practical skills, workshops, food production and human relationships possesses forms of resilience that cannot be downloaded from a distant computer.

The economy of the future may therefore contain two distinct levels.

There will remain a national core responsible for such things as air traffic control, telecommunications, intercity rail, defence and specialist medicine. Around it, a much larger part of everyday life may gradually become more local, simpler and less dependent upon continuous long-distance coordination.

The warning

The grounded aircraft and the difficulties at Jaguar Land Rover are not isolated misfortunes. They are warnings from a system approaching the limits of affordable complexity.

The industrial era taught us to admire scale, speed, specialisation and efficiency. The coming era may place greater value upon durability, repairability, spare capacity and local competence.

Complex systems will not vanish overnight. Nor should they. But as the economic surplus contracts, we will be forced to choose which complexity is essential and which can no longer be afforded.

Localism is not an attempt to recreate the past. It is a practical response to a future in which the enormous supporting structures of industrial civilisation can no longer be taken for granted. The aim will not be to preserve maximum consumption at any cost. It will be to secure a sufficient and worthwhile life with systems that ordinary people and their localities can understand, maintain and trust.

387. Small Nuclear Reactors, Localism and the Shrinking Economy

The decision to manufacture steam turbines for Rolls-Royce’s small modular reactors in Newcastle is important. It will return a major engineering capability to Britain after an absence of more than 20 years.

Siemens Energy plans to make the turbines at the historic Parsons Works. The investment is expected to create 550 skilled jobs. The factory will also service the turbines throughout their working lives, providing employment that could continue for decades.

The turbines will be used in three Rolls-Royce small modular reactors planned for Anglesey. Further reactors may be built in the Czech Republic and Sweden. Each reactor will be capable of generating 470 megawatts.

This is encouraging news for British manufacturing. It also raises an important question. How does such a large, centralised project fit into a future shaped by localism and a shrinking economy?

Localisation is not necessarily localism

Rolls-Royce describes the decision as part of its commitment to localisation. Manufacturing the turbines in Britain will certainly reduce dependence upon overseas production. It will create British jobs and help to rebuild a domestic supply chain.

That is localisation, but it is not quite the same as localism.

Localism is the movement of economic and social activity towards the places where people live. It involves local food production, care, maintenance, education, workshops and small businesses. It reduces dependence upon distant suppliers and energy-intensive transport.

A 470-megawatt nuclear reactor is not a local power station in this sense. It requires national finance, international supply chains, specialist regulation and connection to the national electricity grid.

The reactors will be situated in Anglesey, but their electricity will not belong principally to the surrounding communities. It will enter the national system and be distributed according to national demand and commercial arrangements.

The description “small modular reactor” can therefore be misleading. It is small in comparison with a conventional nuclear power station, but it remains an enormous and technically complex installation. It cannot be designed, financed, operated or decommissioned by a locality.

Rebuilding productive capability

Nevertheless, the return of turbine manufacturing to Newcastle has considerable relevance to localism.

Britain has allowed many of its productive capabilities to disappear. Machinery, electrical equipment and components for essential infrastructure are routinely imported. Once factories, workshops and skilled workforces have been lost, they are difficult and expensive to recreate.

The Parsons Works has an exceptional industrial history. It was established in 1889 by Sir Charles Parsons, whose steam turbine transformed marine propulsion and electricity generation. The turbine for Calder Hall, the world’s first commercial nuclear power station, was built there.

Returning large turbine production to Newcastle reconnects a modern project with that industrial inheritance. It means that Britain will recover some of the practical knowledge needed to construct and maintain essential equipment.

The effects could extend beyond the 550 direct jobs. The factory may support apprenticeships, engineering colleges, specialist contractors, metalworking businesses and maintenance services throughout the surrounding locality.

An economy cannot live indefinitely by consuming imported goods, providing services and increasing debt. It must retain the ability to make and repair essential things.

A national core supporting local economies

Localism does not mean that everything must be organised at village or town level. Some systems are too large or specialised to be provided locally.

A localist future is likely to have two levels.

The first would be a limited national core. It might include defence, telecommunications, the main railway network, specialist hospitals and major electricity generation.

The second would consist of numerous local economies providing food, care, education, housing, maintenance and everyday necessities.

Nuclear power belongs mainly to the national core. Its purpose would be to provide dependable electricity for activities that cannot function without it.

That electricity could then support local food processing, refrigeration, water supplies, sawmills, workshops, health facilities and small manufacturers. Nationally generated electricity would help localities meet their own essential needs.

The reactors would not themselves constitute localism. They could provide part of the framework within which localism develops.

The shrinking economy

The shrinking economy makes the proposed reactors both more valuable and more difficult to build.

They could provide secure electricity as fossil fuels become less affordable. At the same time, their construction depends upon the large and complex industrial economy that is beginning to contract.

Nuclear power requires enormous expenditure many years before any electricity is produced. The Anglesey project is intended to demonstrate commercial viability by the mid-2030s.

During that period, the Government may face declining tax revenues, rising borrowing costs and growing demands upon health and social care. It will also have to maintain roads, railways, water systems, public buildings and the electricity grid.

The Government will increasingly have to choose between maintaining existing essential services and financing new infrastructure. A project that appears affordable in a growing economy may become much less affordable when the economy is contracting.

Rising material and construction costs

A nuclear reactor requires large quantities of steel, concrete, copper and specialised components. Producing and transporting these materials requires energy.

As energy becomes more expensive, the cost of mining, steelmaking, manufacturing, transport and construction will rise. The costs of security, waste management and eventual decommissioning must also be met.

SMRs are supposed to reduce costs through standardisation and factory production. This advantage will only be realised if sufficient numbers of identical reactors are ordered.

Three British reactors may not be enough to provide the expected economies of scale. Orders from the Czech Republic, Sweden and other countries are therefore important to the commercial case.

If weakening economies cause orders to be postponed or cancelled, the anticipated cost reductions may never appear.

Continuing international dependence

The Newcastle decision reduces one important dependency, but the reactors will not be wholly British.

Reactor pressure vessels may be imported from South Korea or the Czech Republic. Other specialised components will also depend upon international suppliers. Even the Newcastle turbines will be manufactured by Siemens Energy, a German-owned company.

A shrinking world economy may make these supply chains less dependable. Manufacturers may close. Governments may protect strategic industries. Transport costs may rise. Countries may give priority to their own energy projects.

Bringing production home wherever possible is therefore sensible. It reduces exposure to international disruption and preserves skills that might otherwise disappear.

The Government’s objective of manufacturing 70 per cent of the components in Britain should be regarded as a measure of resilience, not merely a way of creating jobs.

The cost of the grid

Generating electricity is only part of the undertaking. The national grid must carry it to consumers.

Britain must maintain transmission lines, substations, transformers, control equipment and local distribution systems. Much of this infrastructure will require renewal or expansion.

In a shrinking economy, the grid may become increasingly difficult to finance. A declining industrial base could reduce total electricity consumption while leaving the country with high fixed costs. Fewer economically active consumers would have to support an expensive national system.

Electricity could therefore remain costly even if the reactors operate successfully.

Energy security does not automatically mean energy affordability.

Competition for skilled workers

Nuclear construction requires engineers, welders, electricians, inspectors and project managers. These skills are also needed to maintain railways, water systems, power stations and other essential infrastructure.

A shrinking economy will not necessarily release the right workers in the right places. It may instead create intense competition for a limited supply of specialist labour.

The Newcastle factory could help by providing apprenticeships and continuous employment. But 550 jobs will not recreate the enormous industrial ecosystem Britain possessed when Calder Hall and Sizewell B were built.

Skills take years to develop. They must be supported by colleges, workshops, suppliers and a dependable stream of orders.

Nuclear power will not restore growth

The greatest danger is the belief that new nuclear power will restore the growth economy.

Electricity is not a complete replacement for fossil fuels. Nuclear reactors do not directly provide diesel for tractors, excavators, heavy lorries, ships and construction machinery.

Some of these activities may be electrified. Doing so would require another enormous programme of manufacturing and investment. The reactors themselves will be built using an economy still heavily dependent upon oil, gas and internationally traded materials.

Nuclear power cannot reproduce the conditions of cheap and abundant fossil energy upon which the modern industrial economy was built.

It may help to preserve essential services within a smaller economy. That is a more limited purpose, but it is still an important one.

Reindustrialisation on different terms

The Newcastle announcement has been presented as evidence of the Government’s intention to reindustrialise Britain.

That should not be taken to mean that Britain can recreate the expanding industrial economy of the twentieth century. The energy and financial conditions that sustained that economy are disappearing.

Reindustrialisation in a shrinking economy will have to be selective. Britain must decide which productive capabilities are essential and ensure that they are retained. Turbine manufacturing may be one of them. Much discretionary production will not be.

The purpose of industry will increasingly be to maintain essential systems rather than to support ever-rising consumption.

This means producing equipment that can be maintained, repaired and used for many years. The servicing operation at Newcastle may ultimately be as important as the original manufacture of the turbines.

Build while the capability remains

There is an argument for proceeding while Britain still possesses the capital, skills, international purchasing power and industrial organisation needed to build the reactors.

These capabilities cannot be assumed to exist indefinitely. Delay could allow costs to rise until the projects are no longer possible.

This creates a difficult choice. Building the reactors will consume capital, energy and materials that could be used elsewhere. Failing to build them could leave Britain without enough dependable electricity to maintain essential services later.

The decision should therefore be based upon realistic expectations of a smaller economy. The reactors should be designed as part of an essential national core, not as instruments for restoring perpetual growth.

The shrinking economy strengthens the need for secure electricity while weakening our ability to finance it.

The return of turbine manufacturing to Newcastle is encouraging because it restores a valuable productive capability. But the ultimate importance of the reactors will not be measured by whether they revive the former growth economy.

It will be measured by whether they can provide affordable and dependable electricity for the essential national systems and resilient local economies upon which life in a smaller economy will depend.

385. Just Stop Oil and the Shrinking Economy

Just Stop Oil may be seen as an early sign of the changes that will accompany the shrinking economy.

However, the reduction in oil use is unlikely to happen simply because governments prohibit it. It will happen increasingly because oil, diesel fuel and the activities that depend upon them become less affordable.

The modern industrial economy was built upon abundant, inexpensive fossil energy. Diesel fuel made possible large tractors, combine harvesters, construction machinery, road haulage and the daily delivery of food to supermarkets. It allowed factories to draw materials from across the world and distribute finished goods through national and international markets.

As energy becomes more expensive, the economy cannot continue operating on the same scale. A rising proportion of its resources must be devoted simply to obtaining energy, maintaining infrastructure and servicing debt. Less remains for discretionary consumption. The result is not an ordinary recession followed by renewed growth. It is a long-term shrinking of the industrial economy.

Just Stop Oil recognises that dependence upon oil must end. But its emphasis is mainly upon stopping new oil and gas development to limit climate change. Localism approaches the same problem from the direction of economic necessity. It asks what happens when society can no longer afford to use diesel fuel in the quantities to which it has become accustomed.

The answer cannot be the abrupt removal of diesel from every activity. Modern food production and distribution are critically dependent upon it. If diesel supplies were suddenly withdrawn, farmers would struggle to cultivate and harvest crops. Food processors would lose deliveries, and supermarkets could quickly run short. Emergency services, care workers and essential trades would also be affected.

In the shrinking economy, diesel use is more likely to be reduced progressively. The least essential uses will disappear first because people and businesses can no longer afford them. Recreational driving, frequent flights, long-distance commuting and the transport of low-value goods over great distances will become increasingly difficult to sustain.

Diesel will then have to be concentrated upon essential purposes. Agriculture, emergency services, necessary construction and the maintenance of water, electricity and telecommunications may receive priority. The question will no longer be whether oil should be used, but where its declining availability produces the greatest social benefit.

The contraction of road transport

Road haulage is one of the foundations of the industrial economy. Thousands of lorries constantly move food, building materials, components and consumer goods around the country. This system assumes that diesel fuel, vehicles, tyres, spare parts and maintained roads will remain affordable.

A shrinking economy will weaken every part of that system. Haulage charges will rise. Roads will deteriorate as maintenance becomes more expensive. Marginal deliveries will cease to be worthwhile. Businesses dependent upon distant customers or suppliers will become vulnerable.

Rail could carry a greater proportion of essential long-distance freight. Goods could be moved between towns by rail and then distributed locally by smaller vehicles. Over time, electric vans, bicycles, handcarts and perhaps animal-drawn vehicles could undertake some short journeys. None would replace the present haulage system completely. Their importance would lie in creating an economy that required less movement.

Farming with less diesel

Agriculture presents the greatest difficulty. British farming has become dependent upon powerful machinery, imported fertilisers, pesticides and long supply chains. It produces large quantities of food with relatively little human labour, but it does so by consuming considerable amounts of energy.

Reducing diesel use would require more than replacing tractors with electric versions. Batteries capable of powering large machinery are costly, heavy and dependent upon complex international industries. A shrinking economy may not be able to manufacture and replace them on the scale required.

Farms may instead become smaller, more diverse and more labour-intensive. Machinery would continue to be used, but it would be shared, maintained for longer and reserved for work where it offered the greatest advantage. More people might work in food growing, processing and distribution. Horses could return for certain tasks, particularly on smaller farms, in woodland and on difficult ground.

Food production would also move closer to consumers. Local mills, dairies, slaughterhouses, bakeries and preserving businesses would reduce the need to carry food repeatedly across the country. A locality with good land and food-processing skills might become prosperous in practical terms, even while contributing relatively little to the measured growth economy.

Localism will reduce the need for oil

The most effective way to reduce oil consumption is not merely to substitute another fuel. It is to reduce the amount of energy that everyday life requires.

A locality that grows more of its own food needs fewer lorries. A town with local workshops needs fewer distant deliveries. People who live near their work need less transport. Repairing goods reduces manufacturing and shipping. Local markets shorten the distance between producer and customer.

This is where localism differs from many national energy plans. Those plans commonly assume that the industrial economy can continue largely unchanged if petrol and diesel vehicles are replaced by electric ones and fossil-fuelled machinery is supplied with alternative energy.

But electrifying everything would require immense quantities of electricity, copper, batteries, generating equipment and grid infrastructure. These would have to be financed, manufactured and maintained while the wider economy was already shrinking. Some electrification will certainly be useful, but it cannot preserve every part of the present system.

Localism begins with the recognition that less energy will be available and affordable. It therefore reorganises economic life around shorter distances, fewer material demands and locally available resources.

Evolution rather than prohibition

Just Stop Oil looks principally towards government action. Localism is more likely to emerge naturally from economic conditions.

As discretionary spending contracts, businesses serving non-essential markets will close. Workers will seek employment in food production, repair, care, maintenance and other essential activities. Some people will move from places with few viable livelihoods to localities where useful work remains available.

This has happened before. When employment declined in the slate-quarrying areas around Corris, some workers moved to the coalfields of South Wales. Future migration may follow different routes, but the underlying process will be similar. People will move towards places capable of supporting them.

Government cannot prevent the shrinking economy by borrowing more money or announcing another growth strategy. Nor can it design localism in every locality. It can, however, help the natural evolution by protecting essential diesel supplies, supporting rail freight, permitting small-scale food processing and removing regulations that unnecessarily favour large centralised businesses.

An early indication, not the complete answer

Just Stop Oil is therefore coincident with one early movement towards localism. It challenges the belief that increasing quantities of oil will always be available to support economic growth. It helps to make society conscious of a dependence that was previously taken for granted.

But the shrinking economy will reduce oil consumption regardless of protest. People will drive less because driving becomes unaffordable. Businesses will transport fewer goods because their customers have less discretionary income. Farmers will use diesel more carefully because its cost absorbs a growing share of their income.

The essential task is not simply to stop oil. It is to prepare for an economy in which oil, diesel fuel and many other resources are less available and less affordable.

Just Stop Oil asks society to reduce fossil-fuel use because of climate change. The shrinking economy will compel society to reduce it through declining affordability. Localism is the practical way in which people may adapt to both.

374. Batteries in a Shrinking Economy – From Global Growth Technology to Local Resilience

Batteries are often presented as one of the great technologies of the future.

They are central to electric vehicles, renewable energy systems, home storage and the proposed electrification of almost every part of modern life.

The argument is straightforward. Fossil fuels provided society with abundant, concentrated energy. As those fuels become more difficult and expensive to obtain, electricity generated from renewable sources will take their place, with batteries providing the storage needed to make the system work.

Jeff Currie, the commodities economist, represents this view. He argues that electrification will create enormous demand for the materials required to build the new energy system – copper, lithium, nickel, graphite and other minerals. From this perspective, batteries are not a marginal technology. They are at the centre of a new industrial transformation.

However, Tim Morgan’s Surplus Energy Economics provides a very different starting point. His argument is that the world economy has not simply slowed temporarily. The era of economic expansion driven by increasing supplies of affordable surplus energy has ended, and the economy is moving into contraction.

From this perspective, the question is not how batteries will enable another century of economic growth.

The question is how batteries can help communities function in an economy with fewer resources available.

Batteries are not energy sources

The first principle is often overlooked.

A battery does not create energy.

It stores energy that has already been produced.

A battery is like a water tank. It can store water when supplies are plentiful and release it when needed, but it cannot create new water.

The same applies to electricity.

A battery charged from solar panels on a summer afternoon can provide power during the evening. It can help a house, farm or community manage short interruptions. It can smooth out the daily variations of renewable electricity.

These are extremely valuable functions.

But a battery cannot overcome a prolonged shortage of energy.

Several weeks of cold, calm and cloudy weather cannot be solved simply by installing more batteries. The challenge is not only technological. It is a question of scale, resources and the physical limits of energy systems.

The industrial problem

Modern batteries are remarkable achievements of industrial society.

They depend upon global mining, chemical processing, advanced manufacturing and international transport.

Lithium must be extracted and refined. Copper must be mined and processed. Graphite, nickel and other materials must be obtained and transformed into highly engineered components.

This requires enormous amounts of energy and industrial organisation.

The irony is that the technology intended to support a post-fossil fuel economy is itself a product of the high-energy fossil fuel economy.

As long as growth continues, this may not present a major difficulty.

But in a shrinking economy, every complex system comes under pressure.

From replacement to stewardship

A growth economy encourages replacement.

Products are designed, purchased, used and eventually discarded. New versions appear and consumers are encouraged to upgrade.

A shrinking economy works differently.

Resources become too valuable to waste.

Maintenance becomes more important than replacement.

Repair becomes more important than disposal.

This is where batteries become interesting.

They may no longer be viewed as consumer products with a limited life. They may become long-term capital assets requiring careful management.

Lessons from the wireless accumulator

This is not an entirely new idea.

When many households first owned radios, especially in rural areas before universal electricity supply, a wireless set often depended on a lead-acid accumulator.

The accumulator provided the low-voltage electricity needed by the radio valves. When it became discharged, it was not thrown away.

It was taken to a local garage, radio shop or electrical supplier.

There, it was inspected, topped up with distilled water and connected to a charging system. A controlled direct current slowly reversed the chemical reaction inside the battery and restored its charge.

The customer collected the accumulator and returned it to the radio.

The local supplier was not merely selling a product. It was providing an energy service.

The community understood that stored energy required management.

Battery husbandry

This older approach provides a useful model for the future.

Previous generations practised what might be called equipment husbandry.

A farmer maintained a tractor because replacing it was expensive.

A village maintained a water pump because it was essential.

Tools were repaired because they represented accumulated knowledge and resources.

The same principle may apply to batteries.

Battery husbandry means treating batteries as valuable assets rather than disposable objects.

It involves:

  • extending battery life,
  • careful charging and discharging,
  • repairing damaged packs,
  • replacing individual components where possible,
  • recovering useful materials,
  • sharing specialist knowledge locally.

A community skilled in battery husbandry would be less dependent on distant manufacturers and fragile supply chains.

Batteries as local infrastructure

In a shrinking economy, batteries may become part of local infrastructure.

A village might operate shared battery storage connected to solar panels.

A farm might store electricity to maintain refrigeration, water pumping and essential machinery.

A community workshop might repair battery packs and recover components from older equipment.

The important question changes.

It is no longer:

“How many batteries can we produce?”

It becomes:

“How can we obtain the greatest benefit from the batteries we already have?”

A different hierarchy of use

A shrinking economy will require different priorities.

Some uses of batteries may become difficult to justify.

Large battery packs moving heavy vehicles carrying a single person may appear wasteful when compared with other needs.

The same battery capacity used for water systems, food storage, communications, emergency services or local workshops may provide much greater community value.

The issue is not whether batteries are useful.

They clearly are.

The issue is where they should be used.

The future of batteries

Jeff Currie is right that batteries represent a major industrial demand for minerals and that electrification requires enormous investment.

Tim Morgan is right to ask whether the economic system required to build and maintain that technology can continue expanding in a world of declining surplus energy.

The localist answer lies between these two views.

Batteries are neither a magic solution nor an unnecessary technology.

They are valuable tools.

But in a shrinking economy their greatest contribution may not be enabling unlimited consumption. It may be helping localities preserve essential services, maintain resilience and make careful use of the energy resources that remain.

The future of batteries may therefore look less like a technological revolution and more like a return to an older principle:

Energy is something to be managed, maintained and husbanded carefully.

The battery may become the modern equivalent of the village mill, the water pump or the well – a vital local asset whose value comes not from novelty, but from dependable service over many years.

371. Surplus Energy Economics and the Localist Future

Dr Tim Morgan’s latest essay, #327: Surplus Energy Economics, is perhaps the clearest and most complete summary yet of the ideas he has been developing over the last thirteen years. Rather than introducing new theories, it draws together the evidence into one coherent explanation of why the era of economic growth is ending and what may follow.

For anyone interested in localism, it is an important document because it describes the physical limits that make a more local society not simply desirable but increasingly inevitable.

The economy runs on energy, not money

Morgan begins with a simple observation. The economy is not fundamentally a financial system. It is a system for supplying goods and services. Money merely records claims upon that production.

This seems obvious, yet modern economics often behaves as though money itself creates wealth. Governments, banks and investors increasingly judge success by GDP, stock market values and financial assets rather than by the economy’s ability to provide food, housing, energy and essential services.

Morgan argues that this is the wrong way round. Wealth comes first from energy and physical resources. Money only has value because it represents claims upon those resources.

The importance of surplus energy

Every energy source requires energy to obtain it.

Coal must be mined.

Oil must be drilled, transported and refined.

Wind turbines and solar panels must be manufactured, installed, connected to the grid and eventually replaced.

The energy left over after obtaining energy is what Morgan calls surplus energy. This surplus powers everything else in society – farming, manufacturing, healthcare, education, transport, entertainment and government.

His central argument is that the Energy Cost of Energy (ECoE) has been rising steadily for decades. More of society’s total energy is now consumed simply in obtaining more energy, leaving less available for everything else. According to his estimates, average ECoE has risen from around 2% in 1980 to more than 11% today.

This is not simply an energy problem.

It becomes an economic problem.

Why growth has stalled

Traditional economics assumes that growth can continue indefinitely through technology, finance and innovation.

Morgan disagrees.

He argues that technological improvements have not been able to overcome the steadily increasing energy cost of obtaining usable energy. As surplus energy falls, so does the ability of the economy to expand.

Debt, quantitative easing and financial engineering have delayed recognition of this reality but cannot remove the underlying physical constraint.

From this perspective, many of today’s problems begin to make sense.

  • Falling living standards.
  • Increasing inequality.
  • Rising government debt.
  • Asset bubbles.
  • Political instability.
  • Competition for resources.
  • Declining affordability of essential goods.

These are symptoms rather than separate problems.

The connection with localism

This is where localism enters the picture.

Many people still think localism is a lifestyle choice, a political preference or nostalgia for village life.

Morgan’s work suggests something much deeper.

As surplus energy declines, highly centralised systems become progressively harder to maintain.

Long supply chains.

Global food systems.

Just-in-time distribution.

Mass commuting.

Disposable consumer goods.

International tourism.

Large bureaucracies.

All depend upon abundant surplus energy.

As that surplus declines, societies naturally begin shifting towards simpler, shorter and more local systems.

Essential replaces discretionary

Morgan distinguishes between essential and discretionary activities.

Essential activities include food production, water, housing, healthcare and basic transport.

Discretionary activities include much of modern consumer culture – endless product choice, fast fashion, frequent flying, luxury consumption and many financial services.

As energy becomes scarcer, society increasingly directs resources towards essentials.

This is exactly the direction that localism has advocated for years.

The future economy is likely to become less concerned with consumption and more concerned with resilience.

A more labour-intensive society

Another conclusion follows naturally.

Where abundant fossil energy once replaced human labour, declining surplus energy means more work will again be done by people.

That does not necessarily imply hardship.

It may instead mean more gardeners, growers, builders, repairers, foresters, craftspeople, carers and local manufacturers.

Many activities abandoned because fossil fuels made them uneconomic may once again become worthwhile.

Small farms become viable.

Repair replaces replacement.

Local food processing returns.

Community skills regain their value.

What local communities should be doing now

Morgan ends on a remarkably optimistic note.

He argues that a post-growth economy is entirely manageable if societies begin developing local, bottom-up institutions before centralised systems weaken further.

That observation deserves careful attention.

Waiting until national systems fail would be a mistake.

Communities can begin preparing now by:

  • rebuilding local food production;
  • protecting agricultural land;
  • developing local water resilience;
  • encouraging repair and maintenance skills;
  • supporting local businesses;
  • strengthening community organisations;
  • creating local energy where practical;
  • reducing dependence upon long supply chains.

None of these requires waiting for government.

A different understanding of progress

The greatest value of Morgan’s work may be that it changes the question.

Instead of asking:

“How do we restart growth?”

we should perhaps be asking:

“How do we build good lives with less surplus energy?”

That is precisely the question localism seeks to answer.

The transition will not be easy. Many existing institutions were built during two centuries of expanding fossil-fuel energy and assume that growth will continue indefinitely.

But if Morgan is broadly correct, then localism is not an alternative to the future.

It is the future already beginning to emerge.

The sooner communities understand this, the more orderly, resilient and humane that transition can become.

370. Europe’s Gas Warning – Another Reminder to Build Local Resilience

Europe is once again discovering the weakness of depending on distant energy supplies. Gas storage levels are unusually low for this time of year, and analysts are warning that the continent could enter the coming winter with significantly less reserve than normal. Even though fighting in the Middle East has eased for the moment, the underlying problem has not gone away.

The immediate cause may be conflict affecting global gas markets, but the deeper issue is that Europe has become increasingly dependent on imported energy carried across oceans and through vulnerable international supply chains. Every geopolitical crisis now has the potential to raise prices and threaten supplies.

For Britain, this is another warning that energy security cannot simply mean finding another overseas supplier. It means reducing dependence on fuels that have to be imported from thousands of miles away. A localist approach looks instead to producing as much energy as possible within each locality – using solar power, wind, small-scale hydro where appropriate, biomass from sustainable woodland, and above all reducing demand through better building design and insulation.

No single local energy source will replace natural gas. However, a diverse collection of local resources can make communities far less vulnerable to international events. Every kilowatt-hour generated locally is one that does not have to be bought on volatile world markets.

The lesson is becoming increasingly clear. Whether the disruption comes from war, sanctions, financial instability or simple resource depletion, our highly centralised energy system is becoming more fragile. The answer is not merely to build bigger storage facilities or search for new imports. It is to rebuild resilience from the ground up, so that every locality is able to meet a greater share of its own essential energy needs.

Each new energy crisis reinforces the same message. Local resilience is no longer an environmental aspiration – it is becoming an economic and social necessity.

368. Batteries, Complexity and the Case for Localism

The transition to renewable electricity is often presented as a simple replacement of one source of energy with another. Replace coal and gas with wind turbines, solar panels and batteries, and little else changes. The reality is very different. Every additional layer of technology needed to compensate for the shortcomings of intermittent generation makes the electricity system more complex, more expensive and potentially more fragile.

A recent warning from government technical experts illustrates the problem. Britain is rapidly installing large-scale battery storage systems to help stabilise the electricity grid when wind and solar output fluctuates. These batteries can respond almost instantly, making them valuable tools for balancing supply and demand.

However, the experts have identified an unexpected danger.

When the National Energy System Operator (NESO) issues a Capacity Market Notice warning that electricity shortages are becoming likely, battery operators have a commercial incentive to ensure their batteries are fully charged. If many operators respond at the same time by drawing large amounts of electricity from the grid, they could actually create the shortage they are preparing to prevent.

In other words, the solution itself could become part of the problem.

Complexity Creates New Risks

This is a classic example of what happens when increasingly complicated systems attempt to solve problems created elsewhere in the same system.

For over a century Britain’s electricity supply relied on large power stations producing continuous, predictable electricity. Demand varied throughout the day, but generation could usually be adjusted in a controlled way.

Renewable electricity changes that relationship. Wind turbines produce electricity when the wind blows, not necessarily when consumers need it. Solar panels produce their maximum output at midday rather than during the evening peak.

To compensate, we now need:

  • enormous battery installations
  • sophisticated forecasting systems
  • automated trading algorithms
  • reserve generating capacity
  • expanded transmission networks
  • increasingly complex control systems.

Every additional component introduces another possible point of failure.

None of these technologies is necessarily unreliable on its own. The problem is that the overall system becomes so interconnected that small events can trigger much larger consequences.

The Cost of Chasing Stability

Large batteries are impressive engineering achievements, but they are not free.

Consumers ultimately pay not only for the batteries themselves, but also for:

  • construction
  • maintenance
  • replacement
  • grid upgrades
  • control systems
  • reserve generating capacity
  • market payments that keep backup systems available.

Much of this expenditure exists because renewable generation is intermittent. If electricity production were naturally predictable, many of these additional systems would not be required.

As the grid becomes more complicated, household electricity bills inevitably reflect that complexity.

Bigger Systems Need Bigger Solutions

National electricity networks have always been large engineering projects. But the increasing dependence on intermittent generation pushes centralisation even further.

The grid operator must monitor thousands of wind turbines, millions of rooftop solar panels, hundreds of battery installations and countless automated control systems.

Artificial intelligence, advanced forecasting and increasingly sophisticated computer control become essential simply to keep everything operating safely.

The irony is striking. Technologies often promoted as decentralised require unprecedented levels of central coordination.

What Localism Suggests

Localism approaches resilience from a different direction.

Rather than asking how to make one enormous national system increasingly sophisticated, Localism asks whether every community needs to depend so completely upon that single system.

Local electricity does not mean abandoning the national grid. Instead, communities could gradually develop complementary local energy systems that reduce dependence upon distant infrastructure.

These might include:

  • local solar generation
  • small-scale hydro where appropriate
  • biomass from local woodland management
  • combined heat and power schemes
  • carefully managed community battery storage
  • reduced overall electricity demand through efficient design.

The crucial difference is scale.

A community battery serving a village or neighbourhood is managed to meet local needs rather than participating in national electricity trading markets. Local users understand local demand patterns and can adapt their consumption accordingly.

If one local system develops problems, it affects hundreds or perhaps thousands of people rather than millions.

Resilience Rather Than Maximum Efficiency

Modern infrastructure has been designed to maximise efficiency.

Localism places greater emphasis on resilience.

An efficient system may perform extremely well under normal conditions but fail dramatically when unexpected events occur.

A resilient system may appear less efficient but continues operating when conditions become difficult.

Nature follows this principle. Healthy ecosystems contain redundancy, diversity and overlapping functions. If one species declines, others often compensate.

Highly centralised technological systems tend to eliminate redundancy because redundancy appears inefficient.

Unfortunately, redundancy is often what keeps systems functioning during crises.

Living Within Natural Limits

The battery warning is not really about batteries.

It is about the increasing complexity required to maintain an industrial energy system that is becoming harder to balance as high-quality fossil fuels become more expensive and renewable generation expands.

Each new technical solution creates further technical challenges.

More batteries require more control.

More control requires more computing.

More computing requires more infrastructure.

More infrastructure requires more investment.

The cycle continues.

Localism suggests a different path.

Rather than continually expanding technological complexity, communities can gradually reduce dependence on vulnerable national systems by producing more essentials locally – food, water, some energy, repair services and basic manufacturing.

This does not eliminate the national grid. It simply reduces the consequences when that grid comes under stress.

The future may belong not to the most technologically complicated societies, but to those that build the greatest resilience. True security comes not from ever more elaborate systems designed to prevent failure, but from communities that can continue functioning when those systems inevitably encounter their limits.

367. Local Electricity

In the early days, electricity was generated mainly by simple mechanical methods that turned dynamos or generators. The principle was discovered in the 1830s by Michael Faraday, who showed that moving a magnet near a coil of wire could produce an electric current.

The earliest electricity supplies were very local. A factory, mill, large house, or street lighting scheme would often have its own generator.

Here are the main early methods:

  1. Steam engines

By the late 1800s, most electricity was produced by steam engines. Coal was burned to boil water into steam, and the steam drove a piston engine or later a steam turbine connected to a dynamo.

Typical uses:

  • Street lighting
  • Tramways
  • Factories
  • Wealthy homes
  • Public buildings

Early power stations were small and local because electricity could not easily be transmitted long distances.

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6

  1. Water power

Some early electricity generation used water wheels or water turbines, especially in rural areas and mountainous districts. Existing mill streams were adapted to drive generators.

This was one of the first forms of hydroelectricity.

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7

  1. Gas engines

Before large national systems existed, some towns and businesses used gas engines fuelled by “town gas” made from coal. These engines drove small generators.

  1. Wind and small local systems

A few isolated farms and estates used small wind generators or private systems with batteries, especially before rural electrification.

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4

  1. Direct current (DC)

The first systems usually used direct current, associated with Thomas Edison. DC worked for nearby lighting but could not travel far efficiently.

Later, alternating current (AC), promoted by Nikola Tesla and George Westinghouse, allowed electricity to be transmitted over much greater distances. That led eventually to large national grids.

In Britain, one of the earliest public power stations was the Holborn Viaduct power station in London in the 1880s. At first, electricity was mainly for lighting rather than for the huge range of appliances we use today.

The interesting point is that early electricity was often highly localised. Many places generated only what they immediately needed. The later national grid system came after engineers learned how to interconnect many power stations and transmit electricity over long distances.

368. How oil has become a drain on other resources

How the pursuit of ‘energy dominance’ put the final nail in the coffin of electrification

The Honest Sorcerer

Drilling for oil, you might tempted to believe, will always pay for itself as it produces the fuels needed for its continued extraction. The more oil we lift, the more fuel (and energy) we have, right? Wrong. Let me explain. A barrel of oil would produce 5.9 Gigajoules of energy when fully burned, which might sound like a lot. Considering the fact, however, that only 27% of what we call ‘oil’ can be turned into diesel—the most vital fuel of all—on a global average¹, and that diesel engines burn fuel at an average 35% efficiency, only a tiny fraction of the energy stored in a barrel of oil can be used to drill more wells, mine minerals, harvest fish/wood/crops, build infrastructure, power militaries or to transport goods across large distances. That roughly 10% of energy derived from a barrel of crude is what keeps billions of people and a globalized world economy alive. The rest remains embedded in products (plastics, solvents, lubricants, asphalt, wax etc.) or simply get burned for our convenience in cars and jets. Unlike in the US it’s perfectly possible to live a decent life without a car or flying around with jets in many other parts of the world. The same could not be told about diesel, without which perpetuating modern, high-tech civilization would be impossible.

Trying to squeeze more diesel fuel out of a barrel of oil, on the other hand, would not only cannibalize the output of other fuels (mostly jet and fuel oil) but would also increase the energy cost of getting the raw power we need, thereby defeating the very idea of getting more useful energy out of a barrel of oil. Thus, when a study on Energy Return on Energy Invested (Delannoy et al., 2021) concluded that we use up a little more than 15% of energy stored in a barrel of oil to explore, drill, lift and deliver the next barrel of oil, they pointed out something profound. We need more energy to extract oil than what we could obtain by burning it in tractors, trailers, trucks and all kinds of heavy machinery to maintain civilization as it is. Again: no oil well was drilled using gasoline nor any mineral was extracted or fish caught with airliners—not in any meaningful quantity at least. What’s worse, as the authors found, the energy cost of oil is projected to reach 50% by 2050 as low cost conventional reserves continue to deplete, and get increasingly replaced by unconventional oil and energy intensive methods required to push what remains to the surface. That’s clearly not going to work on a global scale. But then how does the math work with even today’s numbers?

Simply put: we use the rest of the global energy system to subsidize liquid fuel production. Many wells and pumps are now running on electricity, and much of the energy used in refineries comes from natural gas. Sure, when taking all fuels together, producing oil is still net positive in energy terms but extracting petroleum long ceased to be a self-sustaining, self-perpetuating process. Half a century ago when the energy cost of oil was a mere 3% (or less), the 10% useful work derived from the diesel portion of a barrel was more than enough to power the oil business AND provide 7% “free” energy to the economy. Now its the other way around: we are using more and more electricity, natural gas, and in some cases even “renewables”, just to keep diesel flowing and the world economy ticking.

The electrification of transportation, ahem, isn’t going as fast as many of its advocates thought. Source: Ember Energy

‘Then why don’t we shift to other fuels or electrify transportation?’—the question poses itself. You see, batteries and hydrogen, the most often touted “alternatives” to oil, are a way of storing energy at a loss, and not a source of energy. Thus, in order to replace oil we would not only need to dig up all the raw materials required to build these technologies—by using diesel fuel, what else?—but we would also need to multiply the electric grid’s capacity in order to cater for battery charging and hydrogen production demands. Even when considering engine inefficiencies, and calculating with the net energy portion of diesel, jet fuel and gasoline only² we would still need to produce at least 395 kilowatt-hours of power for each barrel of oil replaced. For the 103 million barrels humans burned every single day in 2025—that energy amounts to 40.7 Terawatt hours per day, or 14,850 TWh for an entire year… And we haven’t even taken electric engine and AC/DC conversion losses (10%) or battery recharge cycle inefficiencies (another 10%) into account—let alone the enormous energy cost of generating hydrogen… Not to speak of transmission losses over the grid which could be as high as 60% in the case of America or 40-50% everywhere else. All in all, as this back of an envelope calculation shows, we would need to generate around 36,600 TWhs of electricity on top of the existing 32,600 TWhs produced annually—just to electrify every machine which currently burns oil products globally. And then we haven’t even mentioned electrifying the industry which would take a similar amount of electricity. Triple that grid Mr. President, please.

In order to achieve our current grid expansion goals (which are far-far lower than we calculated above) the US alone would need to install 5,000 miles of new high-voltage lines annually, yet actual additions have collapsed from nearly 4,000 miles in 2013 to a historic low average of just 392 miles between 2022 and 2025. During the same time period China has doubled it’s electricity generation and now consumes nearly 33% of all electric power generated globally, while America’s share has fallen below 15%. Yet, expanding the grid and generation capacity is not even the biggest concern here, no matter how insurmountable a challenge it might seem in the West. It’s not even battery manufacturing capacity, much of which was going into electric vehicles already, and has surpassed 1.5 Terawatts of storage created annually. It’s the global scale of the change, combined with the rapid depletion of resources needed to make the shift, that will eventually put the energy transition into death.

“I have to finish this sweater before I run out of yarn!”

As a 2024 (but now removed) study by Rystad found: we have no more than a couple of years before we max out global oil supply, facing a long decline afterwards. And while green energy fans might rejoice, while envisioning a smooth ride into an electrified utopia, they have to be reminded that we are still mining (and thereby destroying) the planet with diesel fuel. And without mining, there is no aluminum, nickel, copper etc. needed to build batteries and to expand the electric grid with. Nor food… Or long distance transportation… Let alone construction. The coming peak in supply is not a matter of investment decisions either: we are no longer able to replace those oil reserves we have used up³ and now have to live off of our legacy fields—much of which have already passed their production peak. Making matters worse while these older larger fields deplete slowly at first, their depletion rate accelerates with time. (These results were later confirmed by the IEA as well.) The oil economy faces a double whammy from worsening energy returns on investment on one side, and an absolute depletion on the other; leading to a precipitous fall in net value delivered to society.

That, my friends, is a mighty big peak in global oil production. Source: IEA

And it’s not just oil, but copper as well. Independent from what happens to oil, or whether we manage to electrify mining or not, the world is rapidly approaching an inflection point where mined copper supply begins to fall—irrespective of demand or investment decisions. So, even as global mined copper output reached a record 22.8 million tons in 2024, the IEA expects global supply to peak later this decade (at around 24 million tons) before falling noticeably to less than 19 million tons by 2035, as ore grades decline, reserves become depleted and mines are retired. Despite the potential contribution from African copper, new greenfield supply will struggle to make up the difference, as it takes 17 years on average till a mine starts production from discovery, and as new mines cost more and more to open. Simply put, we have run out of time, capital, reserves and energy to prevent a massive shortfall in copper production by 2030.

On the demand side, at the same time, achieving net-zero carbon emissions by 2050 would require a whopping 460% increase in copper production, which would necessitate the opening of 194 new large-scale mines over the next 32 years; tapping into imaginary reserves which are simply nowhere to be found. I think it’s not a terribly risky bet to say: it probably ain’t gonna happen… What you see here is what your ‘grandma running out of yarn before she finishes’ means in real life.

349. Giant Solar Farms and the Death of Local Decision-Making

The Government’s decision to approve the One Earth Solar Farm in Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire is another reminder that Britain’s planning system has become increasingly centralised. It is not simply about renewable energy. It is about who has the right to decide how land is used.

In this case, the Government’s own planning inspector recommended that permission should not be granted. The inspector had considered the evidence, weighed the arguments and concluded that the proposal should be refused. Yet the Energy Secretary, Ed Miliband, simply overruled that recommendation.

This illustrates one of the greatest weaknesses of Britain’s highly centralised system of government. Local people, local authorities and independent inspectors can spend years examining a proposal, only to have their conclusions swept aside by a minister in Whitehall.

That is not local democracy. It is central command.

The One Earth Solar Farm will cover thousands of acres of productive agricultural land. At a time when Britain imports a growing proportion of its food, replacing fertile farmland with industrial-scale energy developments raises serious questions about national resilience.

Many of these low-lying areas have also experienced flooding. Large solar arrays alter the way land is managed. Maintenance tracks, fencing, drainage works and extensive ground disturbance can affect the movement of water across the landscape. Whatever mitigation measures are proposed, flooding risks should always be considered carefully before approving developments of this scale.

Local communities understand these landscapes far better than distant departments in London. They know where water collects, which fields remain wet throughout the winter and how changing land management affects neighbouring properties.

This is precisely why decisions should be made as close as possible to the people who live with the consequences.

Localism does not mean opposing renewable energy. It means asking whether electricity generation should become another function returned to the locality rather than imposed from above.

Instead of a handful of enormous solar installations owned by large corporations, localism points towards many smaller schemes owned by communities, farms, cooperatives and local businesses. Electricity generated close to where it is used reduces transmission losses, spreads risk and allows income to remain within the local economy.

Large developments also make communities increasingly dependent upon national infrastructure and national political decisions. Smaller locally owned systems build resilience because they can evolve with local needs and local resources.

The approval of the One Earth Solar Farm therefore represents more than another planning decision. It demonstrates how Britain’s planning system has drifted away from local accountability.

When ministers can overrule their own inspectors, local consultation becomes little more than a procedural exercise. The message is clear: decisions are made in Whitehall, not in the communities that must live with them.

If Britain is serious about creating a resilient future, we need more than renewable energy. We need a planning system that trusts local people, protects productive farmland, respects local knowledge of flood risk and allows communities to shape their own future.

That is what localism is about.

337, The Energy Denial: “Everything Runs Itself”

A deeper layer of denial sits underneath climate change itself, and it is rarely acknowledged directly: the denial that energy is what makes modern life possible at all.

Most people do not think in terms of energy. They think in terms of systems that simply “work”:

  • food appears in supermarkets
  • heating comes from a thermostat
  • transport arrives on demand
  • goods are always available
  • electricity is assumed to be permanent and invisible

This creates a powerful illusion: that society is self-running, almost natural. In this mindset, energy is not seen as the foundation of everything, but as just another utility, endlessly available and adjustable.

In reality, every part of modern life depends on continuous, high-density energy flows. Food is not just grown, but fertilised, irrigated, harvested, processed, refrigerated, transported, and retailed. Housing is not just built, but heated, lit, repaired, insured, and maintained through vast supply chains. Even information systems depend on large-scale electricity networks, data centres, and global logistics.

Yet this dependence is rarely felt directly, so it is mentally excluded. This is the second denial: not only is climate change softened into something “somewhere else in nature”, but energy itself is erased from the mental model of everyday life.


Climate Change Meets Energy Denial

When Climate change begins to affect crops, water, and infrastructure, it is not experienced as an energy problem. It is experienced as “weather”, “prices”, or “supply issues”.

The connection is broken in perception.

But in physical reality, climate disruption is fundamentally an energy disruption. Heat stress reduces agricultural output. Drought reduces hydroelectric generation and irrigation. Extreme weather damages transport and distribution systems. All of this feeds back into higher energy use required to repair, cool, and stabilise systems that are already under strain.

The article on overheated food prices highlights exactly this chain: rising temperatures do not stay in the atmosphere. They move through land, labour, logistics, and finally into household cost.

Yet most responses remain fragmented:

  • food inflation is treated as monetary or political
  • energy prices are treated as market cycles
  • heat waves are treated as temporary anomalies

The unified energy system behind all of them is rarely acknowledged.


Heat Waves and the Collapse of the “Normal Future”

Heat waves are important because they briefly make energy visible.

During extreme heat:

  • cooling systems strain electrical grids
  • transport slows or fails
  • productivity drops sharply
  • water demand rises
  • infrastructure becomes fragile

In other words, society is forced to spend more energy just to maintain normality.

But once the heat wave passes, the system appears to reset. This reinforces denial in two ways:

  1. It feels like recovery, not escalation
  2. It restores the illusion that stability is the default state

So even as heat waves become more frequent, they are often processed as separate incidents rather than as evidence of a rising baseline energy load on the system.


The Deeper Psychological Pattern

This links back to a broader structure of denial:

  • Climate change is softened into “weather variation”
  • Energy is softened into “services”
  • System dependence is softened into “normal life”

All three work together to preserve a central belief: that the future will broadly resemble the present, with manageable adjustments.

Accepting the opposite would be more disruptive than most people are prepared for. It would require acknowledging that:

  • stability is energy-intensive
  • energy itself is increasingly constrained and stressed
  • climate change is not external to the system, but embedded in it

So the mind does what it has always done under strain: it compartmentalises.


Conclusion: The Invisible Foundation

The real denial is not simply about climate change. It is about the refusal to see that modern civilisation is an energy-dependent structure operating at the edge of environmental stability.

Heat waves do not just test comfort. They briefly expose the cost of maintaining normal life at all.

And when they pass, the illusion returns.

That cycle – disruption, then forgetting – is what allows both climate change and energy dependence to remain widely acknowledged, yet only partially believed in their consequences.

330. Small Modular Nuclear Reactors are a Dead End

MuseLetter #398 / May 2026 by Richard Heinberg

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The nuclear power industry is currently promoting designs for small modular reactors (SMRs) that will supposedly be cheaper, safer, and faster to build than older nuclear power plants. Bill Gates and Amazon are investing in the technology. Moreover, some environmentalists, including Mark Lynas and Bill McKibben, support SMRs in the hope that they can lower carbon emissions. And, according to polls, far more Americans now approve of the development of nuclear energy than was the case just a decade or two ago.

This year, the world has been plunged into a global energy crisis: with the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, nearly a fifth of world oil shipments have been held up, with economic impacts likely to reverberate for months or years. World leaders are suddenly desperate for energy alternatives, and are turning to solar, coal, and nuclear. At the same time, electricity demand for data centers is exploding, and builders of those centers hope to use SMRs to power artificial intelligence (AI).

In short, it looks like a great moment for the nuclear industry.

Yet Indigenous peoples, technology critics, and old-school environmentalists still oppose nukes—even in new, highly touted forms. I agree with their critiques. In this article, we’ll look at the current nuclear revival and see why it may end up being a zombie attack.

Nuclear Renaissance?

Before looking at SMRs specifically, it’s helpful to understand the status of the nuclear industry in more general terms. The industry’s potential resurgence comes after three decades in the doldrums following the Chernobyl catastrophe in 1986. Today, roughly 440 nuclear power plants, spread across 30 countries and with a combined net capacity of around 400 gigawatts (GW), provide about 10 percent of the world’s electricity. The US, which has the largest number of plants of any country (96), is seeing a slow phase-out of old reactors (average age 44 years), but has commissioned three new ones during the last decade. China is now operating 60 reactors, with up to 40 others under construction. India is likewise hoping to grow its nuclear industry rapidly and is experimenting with fast breeder reactors. Globally, the International Energy Agency (IEA) forecasts total nuclear power capacity to grow to over 700 GW by 2050, and small modular reactors are expected to make up a significant share of this growth. A year ago, the Trump administration unveiled an ambitious nuclear strategy that includes a goal to quadruple the United States’ nuclear capacity by 2050, with SMRs playing a key role.

The principal drivers of renewed interest in nuclear power are climate change (globally), the Trump administration (in the US), tech companies’ voracious demand for electricity, and Asian nations’ hunger for more industrial power. Most nations want to limit their carbon emissions, and the main low-carbon alternatives to fossil fuels are solar, wind, hydro, and nuclear. Solar and wind are intermittent (“variable”) sources, requiring energy storage to align electricity supply with demand. Hydro has limited potential for growth. That leaves nuclear power, which has the advantage of being reliable and steady, and has possibilities for expansion.

If it’s helpful to understand why the industry is growing again, it’s just as important to know the reasons for its long period of dormancy:

  • Cost: Nuclear power plants are complex and expensive, employing technology that’s internationally regulated due to concerns about the proliferation of nuclear weapons. Despite over 80 years of the industry’s development, nuclear plants still take a long time to build and are often plagued with cost overruns.
  • Fuel: Uranium, the fuel for nearly all existing nuclear power plants, is a depleting nonrenewable resource, and supplies are running short. Uranium mining is a dirty, expensive process, and mine closures, mostly due to resource depletion, are expected to lead to fuel shortfalls by 2035. While geologists have identified more uranium resources, opening new mines will entail further environmental destruction and harm to human communities, of which the uranium mining industry already has a grim history.
  • Waste: Despite decades of research, the global nuclear industry still has found no good place to put the 300,000 tons of nuclear waste—as well as 480,000 tons of depleted uranium in the US alone—that it has produced in the last 80+ years.
  • Safety: While nuclear accidents are relatively rare, they can be devastating and expensive when they occur. The Fukushima disaster of 2011 resulted in direct cleanup costs of up to $180 billion as of 2016, but the damage still has not been completely contained, and indirect costs to human health have been estimated at half a trillion dollars. Further, nuclear power technology is still tied to the threat of nuclear weapons proliferation.
  • Water issues: Nearly all nuclear power plants use water as a coolant and are highly vulnerable to droughts and floods. Droughts reduce the availability of water for cooling, while floods (nuclear plants are generally built next to rivers, lakes, and other bodies of water) damage safety infrastructure and risk contaminating water sources.

If the nuclear industry can overcome its historic obstacles, a door is open. According to the industry, small modular reactors are the main way forward.

SMRs: Promise or Hype?

The main arguments for SMRs are that they would be cheaper and faster to build than conventional power plants; that they would be safer; and, being smaller, that they could be installed to power remote towns or data centers. The idea is to build components in a centralized factory and then assemble those components at power generation sites.

“Small” is defined as 300 megawatts of electrical power or less. While most existing nuclear plants are in the one-gigawatt (1,000 MW) range, some proposed SMRs are 20 megawatts or less; these are called “micro” reactors.

For the most part, SMRs are still at the design stage. China has one SMR under construction. In the United States, TerraPower, founded by Microsoft’s Bill Gates, has received a permit to build a 345-megawatt (not exactly “small,” but close) sodium-cooled reactor in Kemmerer, Wyoming.

Clearly, it is possible to get funding and approval for these new-generation power plants. The big question is, can SMRs deliver on their promises to overcome the historic drawbacks of conventional nuclear power?

  • Cost: SMRs will only be cheaper to build if large numbers are ordered; the first prototypes may be even more costly than conventional plants. Meanwhile, construction costs per MW of capacity will likely be higher, and operating costs are largely unknown until real-world data can be collected. The cost of electricity from SMRs is therefore also yet to be determined, but preliminary estimates put it much higher than solar or wind.
  • Fuel: Most proposed SMRs use uranium, but some designs on the drawing boards would use depleted uranium or thorium as fuels (see below). For now, however, the uranium fuel constraint looming over the nuclear industry remains in place. SMRs also won’t use their fuel more efficiently than conventional reactors, despite some claims to the contrary.
  • Uranium from Seawater: The supply limits of uranium could be greatly expanded by harvesting it from seawater, where the potential resource is enormous—albeit at a concentration of about 3.3 parts per billion. The total oceanic uranium resource is estimated at 4.5 billion tons, over 500 times all identified land-based uranium resources. However, extracting the uranium will take a lot of energy: the best existing technology using absorbent materials will offer an energy return on energy invested (ERoEI) of about 4:1, which is lower than the ERoEI for solar, wind, hydro, fossil fuels, or conventional uranium mining.
  • Waste: Some proposed SMR designs would be breeder reactors that could get rid of depleted uranium or even nuclear waste by using them as fuels—but this technology has faced significant challenges (see below). Otherwise, SMRs will do nothing to solve, and may actually worsen, the nuclear waste dilemma.
  • Safety: SMRs are designed to be safer than conventional nuclear plants, using passive, gravity-driven cooling systems that don’t require electricity or human intervention to shut down. However, their overall safety is controversial. There is still no real-world data to support the industry’s promises. And having lots of smaller nuclear plants dotted across the landscape could make it easier for nuclear materials to end up in the hands of bad actors. The resilience of SMRs in the face of more frequent and more severe natural disasters is also controversial; a 2021 study concluded that storms, droughts, and higher ambient temperatures linked to climate change are likely to pose operational risks to all nuclear power plants.

The biggest remaining advantages of SMRs are the speed with which they could be deployed once the manufacturing infrastructure is in place, and the prospect of providing non-grid-tied dedicated power sources for data centers.

What about further technological advances?

When confronted with the limits of one technology, nuclear advocates often shift the conversation to another. However, close examination usually shows that each technological “solution” has its own problems:

  • Fast breeder reactors: If nuclear fuel is scarce, why not develop fast breeders, which produce more nuclear fuel than they consume? Currently, Russia operates two fast breeders and India’s first one reached criticality in late April. China has a fast breeder reactor for research. The US, France, and Japan operated breeders in the past but have shut down research along these lines due to high capital and operational costs, safety risks related to sodium coolant, and nuclear proliferation concerns.
  • Alternative cooling systems: Water-cooled reactors (a category that includes nearly all existing commercial nuclear plants) pose risks of loss-of-coolant accidents due to pipe breaks, high-pressure operation failures, age-related component deterioration, and earthquakes or other natural disasters. The industry’s solution: use sodium or helium as a coolant. Unfortunately, sodium is highly chemically reactive and ignites upon contact with air and reacts explosively with water, while helium is a depleting non-renewable resource that is becoming economically scarce at a rapid rate.
  • Thorium reactors: If uranium is scarce and might lead to weapons proliferation, why not use more-abundant thorium? China already has an experimental two-megawatt thorium reactor in the Gobi Desert. However, thorium reactors have steep development costs and produce a highly radioactive byproduct, uranium-232, which decays into isotopes that emit penetrating gamma rays, making fuel handling and maintenance more hazardous and costly. Also, thorium reactors require a “driver” fuel: thorium-232 is fertile, not fissile, meaning it needs a different radioactive fuel (like uranium or plutonium) to initiate the chain reaction. Therefore, proliferation concerns remain.

Currently, there is little real-world data regarding these “new” nuclear technologies, even though all have been discussed or experimented with for decades. The nuclear industry hasn’t actually solved its many dilemmas, and the current nuclear renaissance isn’t being driven by novel solutions so much as by the rapid worsening of society’s energy-related problems, primarily climate change: world leaders are now so desperate for reliable low-carbon energy sources that they are willing to overlook substantial risks, if only the nuclear industry will put a shiny gloss on its latest iteration of products. And leaders of the tech industry, keenly aware of the soaring electricity demand from AI, are even more desperate for ways to power the exponential growth of their companies without risking a backlash from the rest of society, which may suffer from higher electricity prices or shortages.

If not SMRs, then what?

Nuclear power is a product of high-tech modern industrialism. The proponents of nuclear power assume—and nuclear reactors rely on—global supply chains, uninterrupted grid power, reliable water resources, and functioning political systems. The future that’s unfolding around us is a polycrisis in which supply chains, grid power, water, weather, and politics-as-usual are all threatened. In these unfolding circumstances, the only solutions that make sense are ones that are small-scale, local, low-risk, and nature-based.

What to do about carbon emissions? Yes, we need to replace fossil fuels with low-carbon energy sources—but these should be as low-tech as possible, and we should aim to reduce overall energy usage.

What to do about AI data centers? That’s easy: don’t build them. We are rushing headlong into an AI-managed future without an adequate understanding of what AI is, does, or is likely to do in the future. Besides, AI appears to be perhaps the biggest investment bubble in history.

Most political and economic leaders have taken the attitude that we must go to any possible lengths to save industrial modernity. But industrial modernity is the essence of our problem: it is a crisis-generating machine—and one that, prior to its inevitable self-destruction, is creating enormous wealth for a small minority of people, while entrapping everyone else in dreary systems of employment, payment, debt, dependency, and distraction that leave little time for reflection on the futility of it all.

Moreover, SMRs will do nothing to solve our immediate global energy crisis. The oil shortages that are already sweeping over the world in the wake of the US-Iran war cannot, in most cases, be offset with electricity—at least not right away. While electrification is a good interim energy strategy for gradually winding down modernity with minimal casualties, it’s one that will take time, and some things will be hard or impossible to meaningfully electrify—including heavy manufacturing and air travel. Meanwhile, the world needs gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel now; SMRs will take decades to deploy.

The opinion you hold about SMRs will have a lot to do with your general attitude toward technology. If you think humanity’s fate and future rest with high tech (including AI and advanced rockets to enable colonization of other planets), then you’re almost guaranteed to believe that SMRs will help us get there. But if you think, as I do, that the global polycrisis is an inevitable outgrowth of industrialism and its consequences (resource depletion, pollution, and overpopulation), then you’re likely to view SMRs as a pointless and dangerous waste of resources.

Once we see why industrial modernity is unsustainable, the most important question becomes: what is a viable exit strategy? On our way out the door of modernity and back toward simplicity, we need to minimize the creation of new problems and re-learn nature’s elegant solutions. When our priorities are thus reoriented, nuclear power makes no sense.

Featured Image: Adobe Stock

320. The Fertiliser Trap – Why Localism May Be the Only Defence Against Hunger

Most people assume that food comes from fields and farms. In reality, much of it comes from natural gas.

This uncomfortable truth lies at the heart of growing warnings about an oncoming food crisis. Modern agriculture does not simply depend upon sunshine, rain and fertile soil. It depends upon vast quantities of synthetic nitrogen fertiliser, produced using enormous amounts of energy. Remove that energy, and the food system itself begins to falter.

The invention of the Haber-Bosch process in the early twentieth century transformed the world. By extracting nitrogen from the atmosphere and converting it into ammonia, humanity was able to manufacture fertilisers on an unprecedented scale. Crop yields rose dramatically. Populations expanded. It is estimated that almost half the people alive today are fed because of synthetic nitrogen fertilisers.

Yet this apparent triumph concealed a dangerous dependency.

Ammonia production requires natural gas. Gas is both the raw material and the energy source. When energy prices rise sharply, fertiliser plants reduce output or close altogether because production becomes uneconomic. This happened during the recent energy crises, when fertiliser factories across Europe curtailed operations.

Senior figures in the industry issued stark warnings. The chief executive of one of the world’s largest fertiliser companies warned that the world was facing a food crisis. Others pointed out that half of global food production depends upon fertilisers that can no longer be taken for granted.

The chain of events is simple enough.

Energy shortages lead to reduced fertiliser production.

Reduced fertiliser availability leads to lower application rates by farmers.

Lower fertiliser use leads to lower crop yields.

Lower yields lead to food shortages and rising prices.

But there is another step in the chain that is too often ignored.

When food becomes scarce, those with money can continue to obtain it. Those without money cannot.

If governments simply allow the market to determine who eats and who goes hungry, scarcity falls most heavily upon the poor. Wealthier households may complain about rising prices, but they can often absorb them. Poorer households, already spending a larger proportion of their income on essentials, are forced to cut back. Nutritional quality declines. Meals are skipped. Hunger becomes concentrated amongst those least able to protect themselves.

History teaches this lesson repeatedly. Famines are not always caused by the complete absence of food. Often they arise because people lose the means to command food through the market. Scarcity becomes an issue of entitlement as much as supply.

This is one reason why rationing emerged in Britain during the Second World War. The purpose was not merely administrative control. It was to ensure that limited supplies were shared fairly and that the rich could not simply outbid the poor. The Ministry of Food recognised that shortages and uncontrolled prices would leave many people unable to obtain enough to eat. Orderly distribution at fair prices became a moral necessity as well as an economic one. Britain’s rationing system ensured that everyone received a basic entitlement and, in many poorer households, nutrition actually improved.

For most people in Britain today, the possibility of food rationing seems unimaginable. It belongs to black-and-white photographs and memories of another age. Yet if fertiliser shortages were severe enough to reduce harvests significantly, governments could once again face the same dilemma.

Without rationing, the poor suffer first.

With rationing, hardship is shared.

The remarkable fact is not that rationing might return. It is that a highly sophisticated society could once again be discussing it because of interruptions in the supply of natural gas.

This should force us to reconsider the assumptions upon which our food system rests.

Britain imports a large proportion of its food. Even domestic production relies heavily upon fossil fuel inputs, global supply chains and industrial methods dependent upon synthetic fertilisers. We have built a system optimised for efficiency under ideal conditions, but one possessing limited resilience when those conditions change.

Localism offers another way of thinking.

It does not promise complete self-sufficiency. Nor does it seek to abolish trade. Rather, it asks whether each locality should possess enough productive capacity, knowledge and organisation to weather disruptions beyond its control.

A localist Britain would encourage market gardens, allotments, orchards and smallholdings. It would support smaller farms serving nearby communities. Skills in cultivation, food preservation and seed saving would once again become ordinary parts of community life rather than specialist hobbies. Local food processing and distribution networks would complement national systems rather than disappear entirely.

No local system can eliminate every hardship. Yet local food production can soften the blow. A locality that retains productive land, practical knowledge and mutual obligation is less likely to see its poorest members abandoned to the impersonal logic of the market. Neighbours know who is struggling. Communities can respond before hunger becomes starvation.

Critics may dismiss such ideas as nostalgic. Yet dependence upon industrial fertilisers was itself an historical development. For centuries communities fed themselves using rotations, composting, animal manures and intimate knowledge of local conditions. Modern science has taught us much, but resilience has been sacrificed in pursuit of scale and efficiency.

The choice before us is therefore not between progress and the past. It is between vulnerability and resilience.

If the warnings prove exaggerated, stronger local food systems will still bring healthier communities, stronger local economies and a renewed connection between people and the sources of their nourishment.

If the warnings prove correct, and energy shortages do trigger fertiliser shortages, harvest failures and rationing, localities that have retained the capacity to feed themselves will face the future with greater confidence.

Food security cannot be left entirely to distant markets, fragile supply chains and the fluctuating price of natural gas. The ability to nourish a community is not merely an economic activity. It is one of the first responsibilities of any civilised society.

The coming food crisis, should it arrive, may teach us a lesson we have long forgotten.

The road from the gas field to the dinner table is far shorter than we imagine.

And the road back to resilience begins in the locality.

309. The Cost of Distance – What Wind Constraint Payments Tell Us About Localism

One of the less publicised features of Britain’s electricity system is that wind farms are often paid not to generate electricity.

This may seem extraordinary. The country is investing billions of pounds in renewable energy, yet at times electricity producers are instructed to switch off turbines even when the wind is blowing strongly. The reason is simple. The electricity cannot always be transported to where it is needed.

Most of Britain’s largest wind farms are located in Scotland and offshore in northern waters. Much of the demand for electricity, however, is in England. The national grid must therefore move huge quantities of electricity over long distances. When transmission lines reach their limits, the system operator has little choice but to reduce generation.

The result is a curious situation. Wind farm operators receive payments to stop producing electricity, while gas-fired power stations elsewhere may be paid to generate more power to meet local demand. Consumers ultimately bear the cost through their electricity bills.

This problem highlights a weakness in highly centralised systems. The further production is separated from consumption, the greater the infrastructure required to connect them. Large transmission networks are expensive to build, expensive to maintain, and increasingly difficult to expand.

From a localist perspective, the lesson is clear. Whenever possible, production and consumption should be brought closer together. Electricity generated near where it is used requires less infrastructure, suffers fewer transmission losses, and reduces dependence on large national networks.

This does not mean abandoning the national grid. Large-scale infrastructure will always have a role in providing resilience and balancing supply across the country. However, the present situation suggests that excessive dependence on distant generation creates costs that are often overlooked.

As the economy evolves away from the assumptions of perpetual growth, questions of affordability become increasingly important. Building ever more transmission capacity to carry electricity over hundreds of miles may prove difficult to justify in a society facing financial constraints.

A localist alternative would encourage greater use of local generation, local storage, and local consumption. Electricity generated within a locality could be used within that locality wherever practical. The national grid would remain as a strategic backbone, but not as the sole means of connecting every producer to every consumer.

The payments made to wind farms not to generate electricity are therefore more than an accounting curiosity. They are a reminder that distance carries a cost. In an age where affordability is becoming as important as efficiency, bringing production closer to consumption may increasingly become not merely desirable, but necessary.

301. The Grid Bottleneck – A Hidden Challenge for Britain’s Solar Farms

Much attention has been given to the rapid growth of solar farms across Britain. Vast areas of land are being proposed for solar development, with the expectation that they will provide clean electricity for decades to come. However, a less visible problem is emerging. In many cases, the electricity network itself is struggling to cope.

Large solar farms do not simply feed electricity directly into nearby homes. The power must first be converted, stepped up to higher voltages and then connected to the National Grid through substations and transmission lines. In many parts of the country, the necessary capacity is not available.

As a result, some solar projects are being delayed for years while waiting for a grid connection. Developers have reported being offered connection dates extending well into the 2030s. Others have had to scale back their plans, while some projects have been abandoned altogether because the cost and delay of obtaining a connection made them uneconomic.

This problem has become so significant that the electricity system operator has had to reform the entire connection process. The queue of projects seeking access to the grid had grown far beyond what the existing infrastructure could accommodate.

The underlying issue is that Britain’s electricity network was designed around a relatively small number of large power stations. Today’s energy strategy is based on thousands of dispersed generators, including solar farms, wind farms and battery installations. The transmission system is now having to catch up.

The consequence is that the true cost of large-scale renewable energy is not simply the cost of the panels or turbines. It also includes the substations, pylons, cables and other infrastructure needed to transport the electricity from where it is generated to where it is consumed.

There is also the question of affordability. Britain is carrying historically high levels of public debt, while households, businesses and local authorities are already under financial pressure. Building thousands of miles of new transmission lines, substations and grid connections will require very large investments. Ultimately, these costs must be met by taxpayers, electricity consumers or both.

This raises a difficult question. When it is recognised that the economy is shrinking, not growing, will society be able to afford the scale of investment required,

299. How was electricity generated in the early days?

In the early days, electricity was generated mainly by simple mechanical methods that turned dynamos or generators. The principle was discovered in the 1830s by Michael Faraday, who showed that moving a magnet near a coil of wire could produce an electric current.

The earliest electricity supplies were very local. A factory, mill, large house, or street lighting scheme would often have its own generator.

Here are the main early methods:

  1. Steam engines

By the late 1800s, most electricity was produced by steam engines. Coal was burned to boil water into steam, and the steam drove a piston engine or later a steam turbine connected to a dynamo.

Typical uses:

  • Street lighting
  • Tramways
  • Factories
  • Wealthy homes
  • Public buildings

Early power stations were small and local because electricity could not easily be transmitted long distances.

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6

  1. Water power

Some early electricity generation used water wheels or water turbines, especially in rural areas and mountainous districts. Existing mill streams were adapted to drive generators.

This was one of the first forms of hydroelectricity.

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7

  1. Gas engines

Before large national systems existed, some towns and businesses used gas engines fuelled by “town gas” made from coal. These engines drove small generators.

  1. Wind and small local systems

A few isolated farms and estates used small wind generators or private battery systems, especially before rural electrification.

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4

  1. Direct current (DC)

The first systems usually used direct current, associated with Thomas Edison. DC worked for nearby lighting but could not travel far efficiently.

Later, alternating current (AC), promoted by Nikola Tesla and George Westinghouse, allowed electricity to be transmitted over much greater distances. That led eventually to large national grids.

In Britain, one of the earliest public power stations was the Holborn Viaduct power station in London in the 1880s. At first, electricity was mainly for lighting rather than for the huge range of appliances we use today.

The interesting point is that early electricity was often highly localised. Many places generated only what they immediately needed. The later national grid system came after engineers learned how to interconnect many power stations and transmit electricity over long distances.

298. The National Grid and the Return to Local Electricity

For many years Britain has assumed that the future of electricity would simply involve “more of the same” – more power stations, more cables, more electric vehicles, more heat pumps and more dependence upon a huge National Grid carrying electricity across the entire country.

But there is growing evidence that this assumption may be impossible.

The National Grid was developed during the age of industrial growth when energy was abundant, industry was expanding and the economy was becoming larger every decade. The entire system was designed around centralisation. Huge power stations generated electricity in one place and transmitted it over long distances to passive consumers.

The new vision is entirely different. Millions of houses are expected to charge electric cars, run heat pumps, install batteries and sometimes even feed electricity back into the system. Instead of a relatively stable flow of electricity from large generators, the Grid is expected to cope with countless small and fluctuating inputs and demands.

At the same time Britain is attempting to close older reliable generation systems while becoming increasingly dependent upon intermittent wind and solar generation. Electricity may be plentiful one day and scarce the next. The balancing of the system becomes extraordinarily difficult.

The problem is not simply generation. It is transmission.

Electricity grids are physical systems with limits. Substations, transformers and cables can only carry a certain load. Much of Britain’s electricity infrastructure was never designed for simultaneous vehicle charging, electric heating and battery storage on a national scale.

Upgrading the entire system would require enormous quantities of money, raw materials, engineering labour and time. In a shrinking economy these become increasingly difficult to obtain.

The contradiction is obvious. Britain is attempting to build an electricity-intensive society precisely at the moment when economic surplus is beginning to contract.

Even if the technology works technically, the affordability becomes doubtful. Households already struggle with energy bills. Councils are close to insolvency. Government debt rises continuously. Large infrastructure schemes become more expensive every year.

There is also a deeper structural problem. Centralised systems become fragile when complexity increases beyond a certain point. A fault in one area can cascade across the entire system. The larger and more interconnected the network becomes, the more vulnerable it may become to instability, cyber attack, equipment shortages or financial failure.

This may eventually force a historic reversal.

Instead of ever greater national integration, electricity generation may increasingly become local.

Localities may begin generating much of their own electricity through combinations of small-scale solar, micro-hydro, local wind generation, biomass, methane digestion and small community battery systems. Essential activities could then be organised around the actual electricity available locally rather than around the assumption of unlimited supply.

A localist electricity system would not attempt to maintain the present consumer society in its current form. That may no longer be possible. Instead it would concentrate upon resilience and essential needs.

Food production, water pumping, refrigeration, workshops, local transport and basic communications might become the priorities. Electricity-intensive discretionary activities may gradually decline because the energy surplus to sustain them no longer exists.

Large national systems may still survive for essential strategic purposes, railways, hospitals, heavy industry and national communications. But the assumption that every locality can indefinitely depend upon an endlessly expanding national electricity network may prove unrealistic.

In many ways the future may resemble the past more than the present.

Before national grids existed, localities often generated power locally through water mills, small gas works and local electricity plants. The future may involve a more technologically advanced version of the same principle.

The great irony is that the modern drive toward electrification may ultimately undermine the very centralised grid system upon which it depends.

291. Battery Britain, the Shrinking Economy, and the Question of Affordability

The Telegraph article on batteries helping Britain “beat the surge in energy bills” describes a rapidly expanding world of domestic storage systems, smart tariffs, and household-scale electricity management, where batteries are charged when power is cheap and discharged when prices spike, smoothing out the cost of living pressures linked to volatile energy markets.

On the surface this looks like a sensible technological response to high electricity prices. Batteries, especially when paired with solar panels or smart tariffs, can reduce bills significantly by shifting consumption away from peak pricing and into low-cost periods. But in a shrinking economy, the deeper question is not whether the technology works, but whether society can afford the continual renewal of it.

Every battery, inverter, heat pump, photovoltaic panel, control system and power electronic device has a finite life. Typically around 10 to 15 years for many components, sometimes less for heavily used systems. That means a permanent cycle of replacement, recycling, upgrading and reinstallation. Even if unit costs fall, the economy must still sustain continuous capital renewal across millions of households, transport systems, and industrial users.

In a growth economy this is assumed to be manageable because rising output absorbs replacement costs. In a shrinking economy the assumption breaks down. Income growth slows or reverses, discretionary spending falls, and both households and institutions become increasingly sensitive to upfront capital costs. A technology that reduces running costs but requires high initial investment can become structurally unaffordable for large parts of the population.

This is where the tension becomes clear. Battery systems may reduce exposure to high electricity prices, but they do not remove the need to pay for the infrastructure itself. A household battery system still requires purchase, installation, maintenance, eventual replacement, and the supporting grid and control systems behind it. Even optimistic estimates suggest multi-thousand-pound costs and lifetimes of a decade or so, meaning repeated investment over time.

If the economy is no longer expanding in real terms, the question becomes: who finances this continual turnover? Government subsidy? Private borrowing? Higher electricity tariffs to fund grid stability? Or selective adoption by wealthier households only?

This is not just a domestic issue. It extends across transport and national infrastructure. Electric trains, trams, and electric vehicles all depend on large-scale electricity supply, much of it increasingly expected to be intermittent renewable generation buffered by storage. Batteries can smooth demand peaks, and grid-scale storage is expanding rapidly, but the system still depends on massive capital investment in generation, storage, transmission, and replacement cycles.

The logical conclusion often presented is decentralisation: local generation and local storage. Solar photovoltaics on buildings, community-scale batteries, heat pumps, and local energy balancing. But this raises another difficulty. Local systems may reduce dependence on national grids, but they do not reduce the total capital burden. They simply redistribute it. Every locality would still need to finance its own generation assets, storage systems, maintenance expertise, and eventual replacement cycles.

So the question becomes sharper: can localist communities realistically fund full energy self-reliance under conditions of economic contraction? And if they cannot, what level of external support or cross-subsidy would still be required?

Electricity from photovoltaics and heat pumps is often presented as “free after installation”, but in practice it is capital-intensive infrastructure spread over time. In a shrinking economy, capital-intensive systems become harder to sustain precisely because future surplus income is smaller.

This leads to a more uncomfortable possibility. Rather than a smooth transition to decentralised clean energy, society may face a selective transition. Wealthier households and well-capitalised institutions adopt batteries, heat pumps, and electric mobility. Others remain dependent on older, more centralised systems, or face rising inequality in access to energy resilience.

The deeper issue is not whether batteries or renewables work. They do. The issue is whether a society with tightening financial capacity can continuously renew a highly engineered energy system at scale, across every household, vehicle, and transport network, without a growing burden of cost and complexity.

In that sense, the energy question is not only technological. It is economic. And in a shrinking economy, the central constraint may turn out not to be innovation, but affordability over time.

289. Trouble at the Top

The recent article on Consciousness of Sheep raises an important point about modern politics and the impossible promises the government is now making.

The impossibility of making any promises at present is not simply political incompetence. It is that industrial society itself is encountering physical and energetic limits which top-down politics cannot overcome.

The evolution to localism is now getting in the way of government planning.

For decades governments assumed that economic growth, rising consumption and expanding technology would continue indefinitely. Elections were fought on promises of more jobs, higher spending, better public services, greener technology, cheaper energy and rising living standards. But all of these assumptions depended upon abundant, cheap surplus energy and increasingly productive industrial systems.

That world is now fading.

The industrial economy depends upon extraordinarily complex and expensive technologies – global supply chains, rare minerals, massive electricity grids, data centres, satellites, AI systems, electric vehicles, industrial agriculture, container shipping and continuous infrastructure replacement.

These systems appear efficient, but only because the hidden energy and material costs are spread across the entire planet.

As the energy cost of obtaining energy rises, the burden of maintaining this complexity also rises. More of society’s effort must go simply into keeping systems operating. Less remains available for discretionary prosperity which impacts the cost of living. It is not yet generally realised that discretionary spending is becoming less affordable, and will do so for the foreseeable future.

This is one reason governments increasingly struggle financially, even as taxes rise.

Technology itself is not disappearing. But the assumption that every new technology, including AI can be expanded indefinitely is now questionable.

Industrial society developed during a unique period of history when dense fossil fuels enabled huge energy surpluses. Those surpluses permitted the growth of mass consumerism, giant cities, global tourism, endless infrastructure expansion and vast bureaucratic states. The government is grappling with the maintenance of this system and has yet to realise that it is unaffordable.

Supposedly “green” technologies depend heavily upon mining, international manufacturing, long-distance transport and vulnerable electricity grids. Recent concerns over electricity system fragility in parts of Europe highlight the growing difficulty of maintaining increasingly complex energy systems that rely on intermittent generation.

This does not mean that UK society will collapses overnight. More likely, it will simplify.

The political implications are profound. Governments can no longer promise prosperity through growth because the underlying energetic conditions which created growth are are no longer available. This explains much of the political fragmentation now occurring across Britain and elsewhere.

Voters sense that established parties no longer control events. Governments inherit problems they cannot solve because the problems are structural rather than ideological.

In this sense, some elections may indeed become “good elections to lose.” Any incoming government, or a rearrangement of an existing one, inherits rising infrastructure costs, failing public services, unaffordable welfare systems, debt burdens, and ageing industrial systems that require vast energy and material inputs simply to maintain current living standards.

The real challenge, therefore, is not how to preserve industrial consumer society exactly as it is, but how to adapt intelligently to a lower-energy future.

This requires a complete rethink of technology itself. Which can only occur if the system of governance is changed.

Future technologies will need to be simpler, repairable, local, durable and less energy-intensive. Instead of assuming that every household needs the constant replacement of electronic devices, endless digital services, and global supply chains, the UK society will have to prioritise technologies that can operate sustainably within local resource limits.

Local food systems, simpler transport, adaptable housing, small-scale manufacturing, practical skills and durable goods will become more valuable than ever-more complex consumer technologies dependent upon fragile global systems.

This is not “going backwards.” It is adaptation.

The industrial age encouraged quantity. The future will have to favour quality, resilience and locality. Much of what industrial society currently calls “progress” may eventually be recognised as temporary surplus-energy behaviour rather than a permanent model for civilisation.

Current UK political approaches (by all parties) will be unable to solve this from the top-down.

The future will depend less on which party wins elections and more on whether the UK society begins to honestly recognise the limits of industrial complexity.