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.

392, El Niño and the Case for Local Resilience

Forecasters are warning that the developing El Niño could become a very strong event by the end of 2026, with its effects continuing into the spring of 2027.

El Niño occurs when unusually warm water develops across the tropical Pacific Ocean. This changes atmospheric circulation and can affect weather patterns around the world. It does not provide a precise forecast for any particular part of Britain, but it can alter the likelihood of storms, heavy rain and other extremes.

The article published by MSN and The Independent suggests that Britain could experience a wetter and stormier autumn and winter. This would follow an exceptionally hot and dry summer which has already placed water supplies, farming, wildlife and infrastructure under considerable pressure.

The important lesson is not that we know exactly what the coming winter will bring. We do not. It is that the weather appears to be becoming less dependable.

A disturbance arriving from afar

El Niño is a reminder that no locality is isolated from the natural systems of the wider world. A change in the temperature of the Pacific Ocean can eventually affect rainfall, food production and prices in Britain.

The direct effect on British weather may be uncertain, but the indirect effects could be considerable. Droughts and floods in food-exporting countries may reduce supplies of rice, tea, coffee, citrus fruit and other products upon which Britain has become dependent.

Modern supply chains have been designed for efficiency rather than resilience. Food may travel thousands of miles and pass through numerous processors, warehouses and distribution centres before reaching a local shop. A failure in any part of the system can be transmitted rapidly to consumers.

In an expanding economy, shortages can sometimes be overcome by purchasing supplies elsewhere. In a shrinking economy, characterised by high energy costs, debt and declining discretionary spending, that option becomes progressively less affordable.

From prediction to preparation

The national response will probably concentrate upon forecasts, emergency plans and the protection of major infrastructure. These are necessary, but they cannot provide every household and locality with security.

Localism begins with a different question. It does not ask whether an extreme event can be prevented. It asks whether a locality can continue to provide its essentials when the event occurs.

A resilient locality would know:

  • which roads and properties are vulnerable to flooding;
  • which residents may need help during power cuts or severe weather;
  • where emergency shelter and warmth could be provided;
  • which buildings have independent heating or electricity;
  • where local food stocks are held;
  • which farms, growers, shops and kitchens could cooperate during a disruption; and
  • who possesses useful equipment, vehicles and practical skills.

Much of this knowledge already exists informally. The task is to reconnect it.

Water must be managed locally

The possibility of heavy winter rain following summer drought demonstrates one of the contradictions of the present system. A locality may experience water shortage and flooding within a few months of each other.

Rainwater is rushed from roofs, roads and fields into drains and rivers. It may then contribute to flooding before disappearing downstream. Later, the same locality may be asked to restrict its water use.

A more local approach would retain water in the landscape. Ponds, restored wetlands, water butts, small reservoirs, permeable surfaces, healthy soils and carefully managed woodland could slow runoff and provide reserves for dry periods.

Flood protection and drought preparation should therefore be treated as parts of the same local water policy.

Food security begins before the shortage

Local food production cannot replace every imported product. Nor does localism require every locality to become completely self-sufficient. It does mean increasing the proportion of essential food which can be grown, processed, stored and distributed reasonably close to where it is consumed.

That might include vegetables, fruit, eggs, dairy products, meat, flour and preserved foods. Local mills, bakeries, dairies, cold stores and community kitchens may eventually become as important as the farms themselves.

Production must also become more varied. A single large crop may be efficient in a normal year but vulnerable to drought, flooding or disease. A mixture of crops, varieties and farming methods provides insurance which cannot always be measured by immediate financial return.

The shrinking economy increases the danger

Extreme weather is occurring while the country is becoming less able to maintain its complicated infrastructure.

Flood defences, reservoirs, electricity networks, roads, sewers and emergency services all require large and continuing expenditure. Governments may promise investment, but much of their available revenue is already committed to debt interest, pensions, health care and other unavoidable costs.

Infrastructure can therefore become less reliable at the very time when the climate is placing greater demands upon it.

Local resilience cannot replace national infrastructure. It can, however, reduce the consequences when national systems are temporarily overwhelmed. A building with stored water, a wood stove, some local electricity and a supply of food is less vulnerable than one which depends entirely upon continuous deliveries through distant networks.

Localism is practical insurance

El Niño will eventually fade, as every El Niño does. The vulnerabilities it exposes will remain.

The lesson is not that Britain should withdraw from the world. It is that necessities should not depend entirely upon distant systems which local people cannot control.

A locality that retains water, produces some of its food, maintains local skills and knows how to organise itself will be better prepared for storms, droughts, power cuts and economic contraction. These arrangements also strengthen everyday life when no emergency is occurring.

Localism is therefore more than an economic response to the end of growth. It is a form of practical insurance against a world in which both the weather and the economy are becoming less predictable.

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.

376. Food Inflation and the End of the Global Supermarket

The latest warnings from the Bank of England and Britain’s supermarket leaders should not be seen as an isolated inflation story. They are another indication that the global food system, built during decades of economic expansion and abundant cheap energy, is becoming progressively less reliable.

The immediate causes are familiar enough. Heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, disrupted harvests, war in the Middle East, higher fertiliser prices and more expensive transport are all pushing food prices upwards. Yet these are not separate events. They are interacting pressures acting on a system that has become increasingly fragile.

For many years Britain has relied on the assumption that food could always be obtained from somewhere else. If Spain suffered drought, another country would supply the fruit. If one shipping route became difficult, another could be found. If energy became more expensive, the additional costs could simply be absorbed by a growing economy.

Those assumptions are beginning to fail.

The shrinking economy described by Tim Morgan means that societies are no longer becoming steadily wealthier. Instead, there is less surplus energy available to support increasingly complex global supply chains. At the very moment when climate instability is increasing, the economic capacity needed to absorb repeated shocks is declining.

Food inflation is therefore becoming structural rather than temporary.

Every disruption now exposes another weakness. A wildfire destroys olive groves. Drought reduces cereal yields. Conflict interrupts fertiliser supplies. Fuel prices rise. Transport costs increase. Supermarkets compete for scarcer produce. Consumers pay more.

Governments naturally respond by promising to reduce the cost of living. But governments cannot legislate for plentiful harvests, cheap diesel or abundant fertiliser. They cannot command rain to fall or shipping lanes to remain open.

The danger is that politics continues to promise outcomes that the physical economy can no longer deliver.

Britain has become heavily dependent upon imported food. Many products travel thousands of miles before reaching supermarket shelves. Such systems work well during periods of stability. They become progressively less dependable when confronted by repeated environmental, geopolitical and economic shocks.

Localism offers a different direction.

Instead of asking how global supply chains can be restored to their previous efficiency, localism asks how communities can become less dependent upon them.

This does not imply complete self-sufficiency. Few localities could produce everything they require. It does mean increasing resilience by shortening supply chains wherever practical.

The opportunities are numerous.

  • More locally grown fruit and vegetables.
  • Greater support for nearby livestock producers.
  • Local food processing.
  • Farmers’ markets and community food hubs.
  • Community orchards.
  • Allotments and productive gardens.
  • Better food storage and preservation.
  • Reduced dependence on imported seasonal produce.

Each step may appear modest, but together they reduce vulnerability to distant disruptions over which local communities have no control.

The coming years are likely to bring more frequent weather extremes across many food-producing regions. They are also likely to bring continuing geopolitical instability, rising insurance costs, higher transport costs and increasing pressure on agricultural inputs. None of these developments sits comfortably alongside a highly centralised food distribution system.

The lesson is becoming increasingly clear.

Food security can no longer be measured simply by the amount of food available somewhere in the world. It depends upon whether that food can still be produced, transported, financed and delivered at prices ordinary households can afford.

In a shrinking economy these conditions become steadily more difficult to satisfy.

Local food production will never replace international trade entirely. Nor should it. But every tonne of food produced close to where it is consumed reduces exposure to the growing uncertainties of the global system.

The cost-of-living debate therefore risks concentrating on symptoms rather than causes.

The deeper issue is that Britain has built its food system around assumptions that belong to the age of expansion. Those assumptions are being overtaken by physical limits, declining economic surplus and increasing environmental volatility.

As global supply chains become less dependable, local food resilience ceases to be an environmental ideal or a lifestyle choice. It becomes an economic necessary.

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.

372. From Mordor to the Long Repair

Nate Hagens has published a thought-provoking essay entitled Mordor to the Long Repair: How Might Daily Life Feel in the Next Decades? It can be read here:

Rather than attempting to predict the future, the essay explores a series of possible futures and asks a much more useful question: what might everyday life actually feel like as industrial civilisation encounters increasing economic, energy and ecological constraints?

The central argument is that there is no single future waiting ahead. Instead, society may travel along several different paths depending upon political choices, resource availability and human behaviour. Some futures are darker than others, but all acknowledge that the era of abundant, cheap energy and perpetual economic growth is drawing to a close.

One of these futures is described as “Mordor.” Here, societies become increasingly authoritarian as governments struggle to preserve existing institutions despite declining resources. Living standards fall, inequality widens, public services deteriorate and social tensions become commonplace. Industrial systems continue to operate, but with increasing difficulty and at ever greater cost.

At the other end of the spectrum lies “The Long Repair.” This is not a return to some imagined golden age, nor is it a technological miracle. Instead, it is a gradual adaptation to a world with fewer resources, lower energy availability and reduced complexity. Communities slowly rebuild resilience by becoming less dependent on fragile global systems and more capable of meeting their own needs.

This vision resonates strongly with the principles of localism.

The Long Repair is not simply about surviving decline. It is about reorganising society around what is practical rather than what is merely efficient. Global supply chains give way to regional and local production wherever possible. Repair replaces replacement. Skills become more valuable than consumption. Communities rediscover cooperation because it becomes economically necessary rather than socially desirable.

These ideas are entirely consistent with the concept of a shrinking economy. As surplus energy declines, discretionary spending contracts and the economic landscape changes fundamentally. Many industries that flourished during decades of growth gradually disappear, while activities meeting essential human needs become increasingly important.

The essay provides an excellent explanation of why this transition may occur. However, it says relatively little about how communities might organise themselves once the transition begins. That is where the practical ideas of localism become important.

A resilient locality needs more than goodwill. It requires practical systems. Local food production, local water supplies, community energy, workshops, repair skills, local communications, community ownership of assets and neighbourhood governance all become essential components of everyday life. These are not nostalgic ambitions but rational responses to a world of increasing uncertainty.

Perhaps the most valuable aspect of Hagens’ essay is its emphasis on imagination. Much discussion about the future focuses on economic statistics, politics or technology. Far less attention is given to how daily life may actually change. What work will people do? Where will food come from? How will homes be heated? What skills will children need? Which institutions will remain important?

These are the questions that deserve serious attention.

There is, however, another perspective that helps explain why a Long Repair may be more than simply one possible future. Tim Morgan’s Surplus Energy Economics provides a compelling underlying mechanism.

Morgan argues that prosperity is determined not by the total amount of energy produced, but by the amount of surplus energy remaining after the energy sector has supplied its own needs. As the Energy Cost of Energy (ECoE) rises, less surplus energy is available to support the wider economy. The result is a gradual decline in discretionary prosperity, slowing economic growth, increasing financial instability and growing pressure on governments, businesses and households.

From this perspective, many of the trends described by Hagens are not isolated problems. They are symptoms of a deeper physical reality. Modern industrial civilisation has been built upon abundant, inexpensive surplus energy. As that surplus diminishes, society is forced to simplify. Complexity becomes increasingly expensive to maintain, while localisation becomes increasingly attractive because it reduces dependence upon long, energy-intensive supply chains.

This interpretation also explains why many current policies appear unable to restore sustained economic growth. Governments continue to pursue growth because the existing financial system depends upon it. Yet if declining surplus energy is the underlying constraint, policies alone cannot reverse the trend. They may delay the adjustment, but they cannot remove its physical causes.

Seen in this light, localism is not a political ideology or a nostalgic movement. It is an adaptive response to changing economic and energetic realities. Communities that can produce more of their own food, energy, water, goods and essential services are likely to prove more resilient than those dependent upon increasingly fragile national and global systems.

The Long Repair is therefore much more than an interesting scenario. It represents the gradual rebuilding of society around the resources that are actually available rather than those that were once assumed to be limitless.

For those seeking to understand the decades ahead, Nate Hagens provides an insightful picture of what the transition may feel like, while Tim Morgan offers a persuasive explanation of why it may be happening. Together they point towards a future in which local resilience, practical skills and strong communities become not simply desirable, but essential.

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.

366. Land Ownership and Localism – Not a Return to Feudalism

A move towards localism is sometimes misunderstood as a return to the past – perhaps even a return to feudalism, where a small number of landowners controlled most of the countryside and ordinary people had little say over how land was used. That is not the intention.

Localism requires the opposite. It requires that ordinary people have a greater connection with the land on which they live and the ability to produce at least some of the essentials of life.

Land ownership should not mean that a few individuals or corporations control a finite resource that everyone depends upon. Land is not simply another financial asset. It is the foundation of food, water, biodiversity and community life.

A localist society would seek a wider distribution of access to land. This does not mean that everyone needs to own a large farm. A small plot, allotment, community garden or shared local holding can provide valuable food production and reconnect people with the natural systems that support them.

The aim is not ownership by a privileged few, but stewardship by many.

What Kind of Farming?

The farming system required for a localist future would be very different from the industrial model that developed during the period of cheap fossil energy.

Industrial agriculture depends heavily on machinery, long supply chains, artificial fertilisers, pesticides and global markets. It has achieved very high yields, but it has also created problems – soil degradation, loss of biodiversity, dependence on imported inputs and vulnerability when energy becomes expensive.

Local farming would focus more on resilience than maximum production.

This could include:

  • Market gardens producing vegetables close to where people live.
  • Mixed farms combining crops and livestock rather than separating them.
  • Agroforestry where trees, crops and animals are integrated together.
  • Permaculture systems designed around natural cycles.
  • Small orchards and community food growing areas.
  • Traditional crop varieties that are adapted to local conditions.

The emphasis would be on producing nutritious food with fewer external inputs and using local knowledge.

What About Fertiliser?

Modern agriculture relies heavily on nitrogen fertiliser produced using natural gas. This has been one of the major drivers of increased food production over the last century. However, it is also an example of how the industrial economy depends upon abundant energy.

A localist future would need to reduce dependence on synthetic fertilisers and rebuild natural soil fertility.

Possible approaches include:

  • Compost made from local organic waste.
  • Animal manure from local livestock systems.
  • Green manures, where crops such as clover and legumes are grown to fix nitrogen naturally.
  • Cover crops to protect soil and improve fertility.
  • Biochar, produced from organic material, to improve soil structure and retain nutrients.
  • Careful crop rotation to prevent soil exhaustion.

This does not mean abandoning all modern knowledge. Science and technology will still have a role. The difference is that technology would support natural systems rather than attempting to replace them.

Land as a Community Asset

In a localist economy, land would increasingly be viewed as a community asset rather than simply a commodity.

This could include:

  • Community-owned farms.
  • Shared equipment pools.
  • Local food cooperatives.
  • Small parcels made available for new growers.
  • Long-term leases that encourage stewardship.

A young person should not need to inherit wealth or buy hundreds of acres to participate in food production. Access to land is as important as access to education or housing.

The Scale of Farming

The future is unlikely to be a return to the small farms of the past exactly as they existed. Those farms often involved very hard physical labour and low productivity.

Nor is the answer simply to continue with ever larger industrial farms.

The likely direction is a mixture:

  • Larger areas producing staple crops efficiently.
  • Smaller local farms producing fresh food.
  • Communities growing some of their own requirements.
  • More integration between town and countryside.

The key change is that food production becomes less distant and anonymous. People understand where their food comes from and participate in maintaining the systems that produce it.

Land Ownership and the Post-Growth Economy

As the economy moves away from the era of unlimited growth based on cheap energy, land will become increasingly important.

The question will not simply be “how much money can land make?” but “how can land support the survival and wellbeing of communities?”

Localism is therefore not about going backwards. It is about adapting to a different economic reality.

The industrial age allowed humanity to separate itself from local resources. Cheap energy made it possible to import food, transport goods across the world and concentrate ownership.

A post-growth future will require a closer relationship between people and place.

Land should belong to people – but ownership must come with responsibility. The purpose of land is not only to generate wealth. Its deeper purpose is to sustain life.

359. The Future of the Bicycle in a Local Economy

The bicycle has one of the longest and most successful histories of any form of transport. During the nineteenth century it evolved from simple wooden machines into the familiar pedal cycle. By the late Victorian period Britain had become one of the world’s leading bicycle manufacturers. Thousands of local workshops produced frames, wheels, chains, saddles and components. Many engineering skills that later supported the motor industry were first developed in bicycle factories.

The bicycle was a truly local product. Every town had cycle shops that not only sold bicycles but repaired and modified them. Parts were interchangeable, skilled craftsmen could braze broken frames, and a bicycle might remain in service for decades.

The twentieth century brought enormous changes. Steel tubing became highly specialised, aluminium alloys became common, and later carbon fibre transformed racing bicycles. Manufacturing became concentrated in large factories, mostly overseas. The local cycle maker largely disappeared, replaced by retailers selling imported machines.

This model depends upon abundant energy, long international supply chains and continuous supplies of high quality metals. As the industrial economy contracts, each of these assumptions becomes less certain. Steel production requires huge amounts of energy and complex infrastructure. Aluminium is even more energy intensive. Carbon fibre depends upon sophisticated chemical industries. If these systems begin to fail, complete bicycles will become increasingly difficult to obtain.

That does not mean that cycling itself disappears. Quite the opposite. As fuel becomes expensive and motor transport contracts, bicycles become more valuable than ever. The question is not whether bicycles survive, but how they are made.

The answer may lie in rediscovering local manufacture using materials that can be obtained within the locality or recovered from the existing economy.

The first source of material will be recycling. Millions of bicycles already exist. Their frames, wheels, chains and gears represent an enormous stock of engineering materials. Even badly damaged bicycles contain useful components. Local workshops can recover, repair and rebuild machines almost indefinitely.

Eventually, however, even recycled steel may become scarce. Local communities will then need to explore other materials.

Timber offers one possibility. Modern wooden bicycles already exist, using laminated hardwoods such as ash, oak and beech. Properly designed wooden frames are surprisingly strong, absorb road vibration well, and can last for many years. Unlike metals, timber can be grown within the locality and replenished continuously through careful woodland management.

Bamboo provides another example where climate permits. It has exceptional strength for its weight and has been used successfully for bicycle frames in several countries. Although not suitable everywhere in Britain, it illustrates how natural materials can replace industrial ones.

Other parts can also return to natural materials. Wooden mudguards, leather saddles, wooden rims for certain applications, natural fibre baskets, hemp ropes and locally produced accessories all reduce dependence upon imported industrial products.

Local blacksmiths and engineering workshops could manufacture the few metal fittings still required from recycled steel. Bearings, axles and chains may remain the most difficult items to replace, making their careful maintenance increasingly important.

The bicycle itself may also change. Modern multi-speed machines are highly efficient but mechanically complex. Simpler designs, single-speed bicycles and direct chain drives require fewer specialised components and are easier to maintain locally.

This represents a return to an older philosophy. Throughout most of cycling’s history, people expected to repair rather than replace. A broken frame was brazed. Worn bearings were adjusted. Wheels were rebuilt repeatedly. Ownership meant stewardship rather than consumption.

Localism naturally supports this approach. Every locality could sustain a bicycle workshop employing skilled mechanics, woodworkers and metalworkers. Apprentices would learn practical engineering rather than simply replacing factory-built parts. The bicycle would once again become part of the productive economy instead of the consumer economy.

Ironically, the decline of industrial abundance may restore the bicycle to its original role. Not a fashionable recreational item, but an essential machine that local people understand, build, maintain and value.

The future bicycle may look rather different from today’s lightweight racing machines. It may contain more timber than steel, more craftsmanship than automation, and more local knowledge than imported technology. Yet it will still perform the same remarkable task that has made the bicycle one of humanity’s greatest inventions – transporting people efficiently using nothing more than human energy.

In a shrinking economy, that may prove to be one of its greatest strengths. The bicycle does not belong to the age of limitless industrial growth. Properly adapted, it belongs just as naturally to the age of localism.

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.

342. Sinking Ground and the Case for Localism

Recent reports from the British Geological Survey have drawn attention to a growing problem affecting large parts of London and the South East of England. The issue is often described in the press as “houses sinking”, though this is misleading. The buildings are not falling into holes. What is happening is more gradual and more revealing. The ground itself is moving.

Much of the area is built on clay soils, particularly London Clay. These soils behave in a predictable but increasingly disruptive way. In wet periods they expand, and in dry periods they contract. As climate patterns become more erratic, with longer dry spells and more intense rainfall events, the movement becomes more pronounced. The result is subsidence, slow distortion of buildings, cracking, and increasing repair costs.

The scale is not small. Large numbers of properties are now considered at risk over coming decades, and insurers are already paying out substantial sums in dry years when ground shrinkage is at its worst. This is not a future possibility but an ongoing adjustment in the relationship between climate, soil, and the built environment.

From a localist perspective, this is not simply an engineering or insurance issue. It is a sign of structural imbalance in how settlement has developed.

A central feature of modern development in the United Kingdom has been concentration. Population, investment, infrastructure, and housing demand have been drawn disproportionately towards London and its surrounding areas. Over time this has produced extreme density and pressure on land systems that were never intended to carry such sustained load at such scale.

Localism begins from a different assumption. It treats land, soil, water, and climate as active parts of a locality rather than neutral surfaces waiting for development. Each place has limits that are not just legal or economic but physical and ecological. Clay soils that swell and shrink are one such limit. They are not defects to be engineered away indefinitely, but conditions to be respected in how and where building takes place.

The subsidence issue shows what happens when that principle is ignored over time. The more activity is concentrated, the more intensively land is used, and the more heavily infrastructure is layered onto a single geological setting, the more stress is placed on the underlying system. Climate change then acts as a multiplier, increasing the variability of moisture and exposing weaknesses that were previously managed by more stable conditions.

Seen in this light, the “sinking houses” narrative is not about collapse but about feedback. The land is responding to patterns of settlement that have become too concentrated and too uniform. It is a physical reminder that growth is not abstract and that location always matters.

A localist response would not treat this as a problem to be solved only through deeper foundations, stronger materials, or more insurance adjustment. Those have a place, but they are secondary. The primary question is where and how we build in the first place. If development were more evenly distributed across smaller localities, with greater sensitivity to ground conditions and environmental limits, the pressure on any one system would be reduced.

There is also a financial dimension. Concentration creates hidden long-term costs. Subsidence damage, drainage failure, and repeated repair work are not incidental. They are the accumulated cost of ignoring local conditions at the planning stage. These costs eventually return to households, insurers, and public systems, often at far greater expense than a more distributed pattern of settlement would have required.

In this sense, the issue is not only about housing stability but about the wider model of development. A system that continually draws activity into a few high-pressure areas will eventually encounter physical limits, even if those limits appear slowly.

Localism offers a different direction. It suggests that resilience comes not from forcing uniform solutions onto diverse ground conditions, but from allowing development to reflect the character of each locality. In doing so, it reduces strain on land, reduces long-term cost, and builds a more stable relationship between people and place.

The movement of clay beneath London is therefore more than a geological curiosity. It is a quiet signal that the balance between settlement and land has been disturbed. The question it raises is whether that balance is restored by further concentration and engineering, or by a more distributed and locally grounded pattern of living.

341. A Very British Famine – The Case for Localism

The article “A Very British Famine” argues that Britain has become dangerously dependent upon long and fragile supply chains for its food. We have assumed that supermarket shelves will always remain full, imports will always arrive, fuel will always be available and money will always buy whatever we need. Yet these assumptions rest upon an industrial system which is becoming increasingly vulnerable to energy constraints, financial instability, climate disruption and international conflict.

If these pressures intensify, food shortages are unlikely to appear first as complete starvation. Instead, they will emerge as empty shelves, rationing, rising prices, shortages of particular products and growing difficulty in obtaining basic necessities. Those with money may still struggle to buy what is simply unavailable.

The conventional response is to imagine that government will somehow rescue the situation. But national governments can only redistribute what already exists. If there is insufficient food entering the country, no amount of administration can create supplies that do not exist.

Many people assume that communities would then depend upon charity. That may happen for a time, but charity is not a stable economic system. It relies upon surplus. As surplus disappears, charity also becomes increasingly difficult.

Localism offers something entirely different.

In a localist society, people do not depend primarily upon gifts from strangers. They depend upon the productive capacity of their own locality. Food is grown locally because local people require it. Skills are shared because neighbours depend upon one another. Land is used productively because idle land becomes an unaffordable luxury. Security comes from participation rather than from dependence.

This is not a moral argument. It is simply the way societies have organised themselves whenever large-scale systems have failed.

As imported food becomes less reliable, more land will have to return to cultivation. Gardens, orchards, smallholdings and unused land will once again become productive. Families will rediscover skills which industrial society allowed them to forget. Local food processing, storage, repair and distribution will all become valuable occupations.

In such circumstances, local cooperation is no longer an act of generosity. It becomes ordinary economic behaviour. People work together because everyone benefits from reliable local production.

This is why localism should not be presented merely as an attractive political philosophy. It is the natural outcome of a society adapting to physical limits. As national systems lose resilience, local systems gain importance.

The future is therefore unlikely to consist simply of greater hardship. It is more likely to involve a gradual transfer of responsibility from distant institutions to local people themselves.

That transition will not be easy. It will require changes in land ownership, education, planning, farming and local enterprise. But once the old assumptions no longer hold, the direction becomes increasingly obvious.

Localism is not charity.

It is the practical means by which people secure food, livelihoods and prosperity when large systems can no longer guarantee them.

340. The Economy Through the Lens of Energy – Tim Morgan’s Most Important Article

Before reading this article I expected it to be another of Tim Morgan’s thoughtful essays. Instead, I found a substantial work that is closer to a short book than a blog post. At approximately 18,000 words, it took me about five hours to read carefully and absorb its arguments. It is not something to skim. It deserves to be studied.

The article is available here:

Surplus Energy Economics – #327: Surplus Energy Economics

Tim Morgan brings together the ideas he has developed over many years into a single, comprehensive explanation of how the economy really works. His central argument is deceptively simple. The economy is not created by money. It is created by energy being used to transform raw materials into the goods and services on which civilisation depends. Money is simply a claim on that real economy.

From this foundation he develops several important conclusions.

The first is that economic growth has not ended because of poor government policy or temporary crises. It has ended because the surplus energy available to society is declining. As more energy has to be used simply to obtain energy, less remains available for everything else. Rising living costs and slowing prosperity are therefore structural, not temporary.

Second, Morgan argues that conventional economics mistakes money for wealth. GDP measures financial transactions rather than material prosperity. Expanding credit and creating more money cannot create the physical resources needed for genuine economic growth. The financial economy has become increasingly detached from the physical economy on which it ultimately depends.

Third, he explains why technology, including artificial intelligence, cannot escape physical limits. Every technological system requires energy, minerals, water and manufacturing capacity. Technology can improve efficiency, but it cannot abolish the laws of physics. Claims that innovation alone will restore endless growth ignore these material realities.

Perhaps the most valuable aspect of the article is that it provides a coherent framework rather than a collection of isolated observations. Readers who have sensed that housing, pensions, public finance, energy, inflation, food prices and environmental pressures are somehow connected will find an explanation of how these issues arise from the same underlying causes.

From a localist perspective, the implications are profound. If prosperity increasingly depends upon secure access to real resources rather than expanding financial claims, then resilient local economies become far more important than global financial growth. Communities that shorten supply chains, conserve energy, rebuild local production and strengthen local relationships are likely to prove far more resilient than those dependent upon ever-expanding international systems.

Whether one agrees with every conclusion or not, this article represents one of the clearest and most comprehensive explanations of surplus energy economics currently available. It rewards careful reading, but it demands concentration. I found it one of the most significant pieces Tim Morgan has written. It is long, detailed and challenging, but it provides a framework for understanding many of the problems that otherwise appear unrelated.

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.

334. Human Energy is Our Most Precious Resource

One of the least recognised consequences of a shrinking economy is that human energy becomes as valuable as financial energy. Every hour spent, every physical effort made, every journey undertaken, has to produce genuine value.

For decades we have built a society that consumes enormous quantities of human effort simply to maintain systems that have become increasingly complex. Endless commuting, administration, shopping, maintenance and bureaucracy all absorb time and strength that could be used to improve our own lives and those of our neighbours.

The recent idea of “slow gardening” illustrates an important principle. Rather than constantly battling nature, the aim is to design gardens that largely look after themselves. By choosing appropriate plants, allowing natural processes to operate and accepting that perfection is neither possible nor desirable, far less human effort is required while producing healthier and more attractive spaces.

Localism applies exactly the same principle to society itself.

Instead of requiring people to spend large amounts of time travelling, dealing with distant organisations and maintaining complicated supply chains, localism designs society so that much of everyday life happens close to home. Food is grown locally. Skills are shared locally. Care is provided locally. Decisions are made locally. Problems are solved before they grow into major crises.

This is not about making people work harder. Quite the opposite. It is about using human energy far more intelligently.

Every unnecessary journey eliminated saves fuel and time. Every locally repaired item avoids replacement. Every neighbour helping another reduces the need for expensive professional services. Every local enterprise reduces dependence upon distant systems.

As economic contraction continues, conserving human energy will become just as important as conserving fuel or materials. People will simply no longer have the surplus time or physical capacity to support highly centralised systems that demand constant travel, administration and consumption.

Like the slow garden, a localist society works with natural human relationships instead of against them. It creates communities that are resilient because they require less effort to sustain.

The future may not belong to those who can command the greatest resources. It may belong to those who can achieve the greatest quality of life with the least expenditure of human energy.