333. The Missing Pipe

by Ed Conway in The Material World

A short history of how Britain chose the wrong heating system a century ago, and why we are unnecessarily sweating our way through a heatwave in 2026

Jun 26, 2026

The first rule of listening to a journalist is: under no circumstances ever take business or financial advice from a journalist. With that proviso out of the way, do you mind if I pitch you a business idea?

It all comes back to something that’s rather relevant right now, with Britain and most of Northern Europe basking/melting in an unprecedentedly hot June. Records are being broken all over the place and all of a sudden everyone is talking about air conditioning.

Why, many are asking, do we not have more air conditioning? Look at a country-by-country comparison and – to the extent that such data exists – the UK usually comes out at or near the bottom of high income nations.

Percentage of households equipped with AC in selected countries, 2018. IEA data. UK figure from English Housing Survey

The short answer of course is that, historically, Britain hasn’t had much need for AC. Compared with countries like the US and Japan we have far fewer “cooling degree days”, and hence much less demand for AC.

But there is a slightly longer and much more interesting answer, which is that this isn’t just a story about AC, and the lack thereof. It’s a story about something much deeper: about the way our homes are built (specifically the plumbing), about net zero, and the government’s heat pump strategy.

But before we get to all that, back to the explanation about why Britain still has so little AC, despite the rise in average temperatures in recent years. It mostly comes back to two things:

  1. Decades ago we committed ourselves to heating systems that don’t lend themselves to cooling, and…
  2. Even if you want an air conditioner today it’s surprisingly hard to find one, and nigh on impossible to find a portable one that actually works particularly well.

To take number 1 first (and I covered some of this in a Times column a few years ago) at some point about a century ago, we plumped for what are known in the trade as “wet” or hydronic systems, with boilers that heat up hot water and send it round our homes.

There are many good things to be said about wet systems: they work well in cold climates, and that hot water can be used for bathing and washing too. But most of the rest of the world doesn’t have radiators like ours. They use systems that blow air around the house, either through ducts and vents or a few wall-based units.

Air-based systems (HVAC as they’re sometimes called) aren’t perfect. The air they puff out can be stuffy and dry, though you can add filters and humidifiers if that bothers you. And you usually need a separate unit to heat your water. Even so, they have one enormously attractive advantage: connect them to a heat pump and they can both heat and cool your home.

And this is where the AC debate collides with the heat pump debate. Heat pumps, as you will probably already know, are a sort of electric alternative to a gas or oil boiler. In thermodynamic terms, they are a rather amazing technology, as you’ll see if you ponder the helpful diagram below. Whereas what a gas boiler does is to take the energy embedded in a molecule of methane and burn it, using the heat to warm the water running through your pipes, what a heat pump does is radically different.

Instead, it essentially captures the heat in the air around us and uses electricity to multiply that heat up so that it becomes warm enough to warm a radiator or a hot water tank (or to puff it out in the form of air).

Now, there are some problems – the chief one being that heat pumps have typically not been able to get that eventual heat up to quite the same levels as a gas boiler, though the latest generation of heat pumps are a lot better on this front. But the real marvel is that – even leaving aside the net zero point which is that they are a lower carbon way of heating our homes – they are so, so much more efficient at turning the energy we put into them into the heat in our homes.

I say “heat pumps” but I’m actually oversimplifying, because in practice, there are two distinct categories of heat pumps. There are heat pumps that heat up water (air-to-water) and heat pumps that heat up air (air-to-air). The point of my column a few years ago was we were being encouraged by the government to buy air-to-water pumps, the assumption being that we should hang on to our radiators.

You can understand why they chose to prioritise “wet” systems. The last thing they want to do is tell people they need to rip out their entire plumbing system. The merit of an air-to-water system is that you simply replace your boiler and you’re away. But the problem with an air-to-water heat pump is twofold. First, it’s actually less efficient than an air-to-air system which puffs out that multiplied heat in the form of air.

Second, it’s, well, not much of an upgrade. For the actual consumer buying them, the long-and-short of it is that they would have to pay rather a lot for a system that would cost about the same to run (at current electricity prices) and results in slightly less hot radiators. Which, to my mind at least, helps explain why so many households have been so reluctant to switch. It is far easier to encourage people to spend lots of money on their home if they feel they’re actually improving their living standards.

The argument in my column was that the government should really start offering grants not just to these water-based systems but also to air-to-air pumps. All of which brings us back to this heatwave and to AC, because, you see, air-to-air pumps are, essentially, air conditioners. In the winter they provide hot air; in the summer they can blow out hot air. Really, we should be calling them “temperature pumps”, since “heat” is only half of what they do. Anyway, bafflingly (to me at least) as of a few years ago the government wasn’t offering any public support for anyone wanting to buy one.

The good news is that since that column the government has changed course and now offers some grant money for those wanting to buy an air-to-air system (I like to think the two things are connected but they almost certainly are not). The grants are far lower (£2,500 vs £7,500 for an air-to-water system) so there’s still an incentive to stick with the old “wet” radiator system. Moreover, the official advice fails to mention that if you opt for an air-to-air system you also get air conditioning thrown in for free. It’s almost as if they don’t want people to know about this amazing technology!

Anyway, once properly installed, you will end up with one big box with a fan and pump outside your house (like the picture at the top) and another unit inside the house delivering hot or cold air inside (like the one below). The whole thing will set you back a few thousand pounds but, all being well, soon enough you will save back that money in heating bills.

But for those who aren’t yet making the leap and installing a permanent system, the reality of having air conditioning in your home in the UK is decidedly unsatisfactory. Because the only way to do this is to buy a portable air conditioner.

Portable air conditioners are inherently far less efficient than the split models I described above. But for those who don’t yet want to rip up their walls and install a proper air-to-air heat pump, they are about the best thing there is for dealing with heat waves like the ones we’ve had this summer.

However, bafflingly, nearly every portable AC available for purchase in the UK today is about two or three times more ineffectual than it needs to be. There are a couple of reasons for this. The first is that they almost all use an old-school technology to cool the air. Once upon a time, the compressors inside old air conditioners/heat pumps (the bit that helps actually change the temperature) were simple on-off units. Either they were cooling at full pelt or they were doing nothing. These days, most proper heat pumps and air conditioners have what are known as inverter compressors, which can ramp up or down the cooling depending on how much is needed.

But here’s the thing: nearly all portable AC units available in the UK are based on the old on-off technology. The upshot is a) they are far more power hungry than they need to be and b) they are very, very noisy, especially when the compressor whirrs into action at full speed. For some reason, it’s very, very hard to find a portable inverter AC unit in the UK (which is not the case, for instance, in the US).1

The second problem with portable AC units is that – and I’m not making this up – they arrive without the right pipes. When you buy a portable AC in the UK, it will, almost without exception, come with a big hose at the back, which you need to stick out of a window.

That hose is an exhaust, essentially sending all the hot air outside. But strictly speaking, you really ought to have two hoses – one to send the hot out and, critically, another to suck in air from outside. The full story is to be found in this New Scientist piece but the long and short of it is that basically every portable air conditioner on the UK market today is doomed to be about two or three times less effective at cooling a room than it could be. Not because of anything wrong with the machine – literally because they don’t throw in the right plastic hoses to attach to it.

And here’s where we get to the business plan. In theory, every single one of these AC units could, through the addition of a few simple pipes and a 3D printed adaptor, be made twice as effective. Rooms could be cooled at twice the speed – for a few plastic parts that cost only 20-30 pounds. And yet, as far as I can work out, the only way you as a consumer can actually get one of these kits is to 3D print it yourself.

I can’t help but feel the market has failed on all sorts of fronts here. Millions of Britons want cooling in the summer. The demand for cooling will only grow in the coming years. But for those who don’t want a permanent air-to-air heat pump, the only options available during a heatwave, save for fans or sweating their way through it, are far, far worse than they need to be. It strikes me there’s an enormous business opportunity here.

Or maybe, well, I’m just a journalist. As I say, never take advice from folks like us. And perhaps I’ve missed something – if so, please comment below! Either way, the overarching point is that sweltering in misery during heatwaves is not an inevitability. There is technology out there to help you through it. The only problem is that it’s far harder to get hold of it than it really ought to be.

The only one I’ve encountered is the brand new Meaco Cirro (though NB you have to opt for the two more powerful models to actually get the inverter. And as far as I can make out the Cirro only has a single hose so loses out on all the efficiency gains you’d get from a double-hosed unit…

T

331. The Waru Waru System – Ancient Local Resilience for a Shrinking Future

The Waru Waru system of the Andean highlands is one of the most remarkable examples of local resilience ever developed. Long before industrial agriculture, the people living around Lake Titicaca, in what is now Peru and Bolivia, created an agricultural landscape that enabled them to grow reliable crops under some of the world’s most difficult conditions.

Waru Waru, sometimes called raised fields, consists of long, broad ridges of cultivated soil separated by water-filled channels. The raised beds may be several metres wide and extend for hundreds of metres. The surrounding canals perform several vital functions. During the day they absorb the sun’s warmth and, at night, release it slowly, reducing the risk of frost that would otherwise destroy crops. The canals also collect rainwater, improve drainage during heavy rainfall, reduce drought stress during dry periods and provide habitat for fish, frogs and beneficial wildlife. Organic matter accumulating in the canals can be dredged periodically and spread back onto the raised beds, continually renewing soil fertility.

The system enabled communities living more than 3,500 metres above sea level to produce potatoes, quinoa and other crops reliably for centuries without artificial fertilisers, irrigation pumps or fossil fuels. It represented an elegant partnership between people and nature rather than an attempt to dominate it.

Modern researchers have demonstrated that reconstructed Waru Waru fields frequently outperform conventional farming in the same environment. The system requires more human labour but far fewer external inputs, making it particularly attractive where energy, fertiliser and machinery become scarce or expensive.

For those thinking about a future beyond economic growth, Waru Waru offers an important lesson. It shows that prosperity does not always depend upon advanced technology or increasing consumption. Instead, it can arise from careful observation of natural processes and the accumulation of local knowledge over many generations.

Localism naturally points in this direction. As global supply chains become less reliable and imported fertilisers, fuels and machinery become more costly, every locality will need to rediscover methods suited to its own climate, soils and landscape. The solution in Herefordshire will not be identical to that of the Andes, but the underlying principle is exactly the same. Farming should work with local conditions rather than against them.

The Waru Waru system reminds us that the future may depend as much upon recovering forgotten wisdom as inventing new technologies. Thousands of years ago, small communities created an agricultural system that was productive, resilient and largely self-sustaining. Those qualities may prove increasingly valuable in the decades ahead as local communities seek practical ways of living well within the limits of their own land.

328. Today’s Data Centres – Tomorrow’s Local Resource Crisis

Artificial intelligence and cloud computing are driving a rapid expansion of data centres. They are often presented as symbols of progress, bringing investment and employment. Yet beneath the headlines lies a question that deserves much more attention.

Economist Tim Morgan recently observed:

“There’s another aspect of this that’s worrying. If somebody builds a data centre in your locality, what happens to your cost of electricity and water, when they’ve got effectively bottomless pockets?”

This question goes to the heart of the localist argument.

Electricity and water are not unlimited resources. Every locality has finite generating capacity, finite distribution networks and, increasingly, finite water supplies. A large data centre may consume as much electricity as a small town and millions of litres of water each day for cooling. When such a development arrives, it becomes a powerful new competitor for essential resources.

The owners of these facilities are often among the wealthiest corporations in the world. They can afford to pay prices that ordinary households, farms and small businesses cannot. Even if they negotiate long-term contracts, the extra demand they create still requires investment in new infrastructure. Ultimately those costs are often spread across everyone else.

The result is that local people may find themselves paying higher prices for electricity and water, while having little influence over decisions that affect their daily lives.

This illustrates one of the weaknesses of an economy organised around perpetual growth. New developments are assessed mainly by the value of the investment and the contribution to national output. Much less attention is given to the effect on the resilience of the locality itself.

Localism asks a different question.

Instead of asking whether a project increases national GDP, it asks whether it strengthens or weakens the ability of the locality to provide for its own people. Does it leave enough affordable electricity for homes, workshops and local industries? Does it protect water supplies for farming, food production and daily life? Does it improve the long-term security of the community?

In an age of growing resource constraints, these questions become increasingly important.

A shrinking economy makes the issue even more significant. As energy becomes more expensive and investment capital becomes scarcer, every kilowatt of electricity and every litre of water become more valuable. Local communities cannot assume that additional supplies will always be available.

This suggests that essential resources should increasingly be regarded as strategic assets belonging first to the locality. Major industrial users should demonstrate not only that they can pay for these resources, but also that their use does not reduce the resilience and prosperity of the surrounding community.

Future planning may therefore need to move beyond traditional economic assessments. Before approving major developments, localities may need to ask whether they can genuinely afford to allocate scarce electricity and water to activities whose principal benefits flow elsewhere.

The debate is therefore not about opposing technology. Data centres undoubtedly have a role in modern society. The question is one of priorities.

When resources become constrained, should communities compete with global corporations for the essentials of life, or should those essentials first secure the well-being of the people who live there?

That is a question localism is uniquely equipped to answer.

327. Food, Limits, and the Shape of Tomorrow’s Economy – Part Two

As seen from the bottom up

A shrinking economy, seen from the ground, does not begin with policy or national plans. It begins in small changes in daily life, in the cost of food, in the availability of work, and in what people notice they can no longer rely on. The food system then adjusts from the bottom up, because it has to.

From a grassroots perspective, the first shift is often in household behaviour. People begin to grow more of their own food not out of ideology but out of practicality. Gardens, allotments and any available patches of land become more important. The same applies to community spaces where informal growing develops alongside older traditions of local food knowledge.

In this setting, the ideas associated with Professor Tim Benton can be understood in a very direct way. The structure of food is not an abstract system but something experienced through rising prices, fewer imported goods, and a gradual narrowing of choice. As imports become less reliable, diets adjust. People do not plan this in advance, they respond to what is available.

Animal farming also changes from the ground upwards. Intensive systems based on imported feed become harder to sustain, while grazing animals and mixed small holdings become more practical. This shift is not driven by policy first, but by cost and availability. Farmers and smallholders adapt by simplifying their systems and relying more on local inputs.

Labour follows a similar path. As formal employment contracts and discretionary work weaken, people move into whatever local work exists. Food growing, small scale processing, repair work and distribution begin to absorb labour that would otherwise be unused. This is not always a smooth transition. It is often uneven and informal, but it gradually becomes the real economy that people depend on.

Processing becomes something visible again. Instead of being hidden in large industrial facilities, it appears in villages, farms, community buildings and domestic settings. People milling grain, preserving vegetables, baking bread, making cheese or preparing meat are not specialists in the modern sense but participants in a shared necessity. Labour intensity rises because scale falls. More hands are needed for smaller, more frequent tasks.

Training also shifts in character. Instead of formal institutions defining entry routes, knowledge spreads through practice. People who already garden become informal teachers. Skills are passed on in allotments, community gardens and smallholdings. Learning becomes local, direct and repetitive, rather than abstract or credential based.

Diet changes in a similarly grounded way. Less meat is eaten not through instruction but because feed and imported inputs become expensive. Where animals are kept, they tend to be part of mixed local systems rather than intensive units. This shift has knock-on effects for health. As diets simplify and processed food becomes less dominant, there is often a reduction in obesity and long term conditions associated with diet, which in turn reduces pressure on local health services.

Allotments and smallholdings become central rather than marginal. They are no longer seen as leisure spaces but as part of household security. Within them, informal specialisation develops. Some focus on vegetables, others on fruit trees, seed saving, poultry or composting systems. Orchards in particular become valuable again because they provide long term food with relatively low ongoing input once established.

Biofuels appear in small and practical forms rather than large industrial schemes. They are used where necessary for local transport or essential machinery, but they remain constrained by land availability. In most cases they sit alongside food production rather than replacing it.

Alongside this, a wood based economy begins to reappear in everyday life. Coppicing, local timber use and small scale forestry become important for fuel, building and tools. This is not a new invention but a reactivation of older practices adapted to present constraints.

Trade also becomes more local in character. Where cash is limited or unreliable, informal exchange develops. Local currencies or simple barter systems emerge to keep basic goods moving between people. These systems are not uniform but reflect the needs of particular places.

Other forms of production re-emerge in small but significant ways. Hops grown locally support small breweries that serve nearby communities. Herbs and medicinal plants become more widely cultivated and used, with herbalists and growers responding to demand that is both practical and cultural. Hand tools, repair skills and small scale manufacture gain importance as imported goods become harder to obtain or maintain.

From this perspective, the shrinking economy is not experienced as a single transition but as a series of adjustments made by households, growers, workers and small communities. The overall effect is a gradual rebuilding of food, energy and labour systems from the ground up, shaped less by design and more by necessity.

326. Food, Limits, and the Shape of Tomorrow’s Economy – Part One

As seen from the top down

This article has been inspired by Professor Tim Benton’s chapter, “Food Systems Futures and How to Achieve Them”, published as part of Regenerative Farming and Sustainable Diets. The original chapter is freely available here:

Whilst this essay develops a perspective based on local food systems and resilience, it is grounded in Professor Benton’s analysis of the global food system and the pressures it now faces.


Professor Tim Benton’s work on food systems begins from a simple but uncomfortable observation. The modern global food system is extraordinarily productive, yet increasingly fragile. It delivers large quantities of food across the world, but it does so through systems that are highly complex, energy intensive, and deeply dependent on long supply chains.

For much of the twentieth century, agricultural policy was focused almost entirely on increasing production. The priority was to maximise yields, reduce labour costs, and expand output through mechanisation, chemical fertilisers, improved crop varieties, and global trade. This approach succeeded in increasing food availability on a scale never seen before.

However, it also created a system that depends heavily on a narrow range of staple crops, intensive livestock production, and a high level of external inputs such as fuel, fertiliser, and pesticides. At the same time, large areas of agriculture became increasingly specialised, and food systems became more globally interconnected.

The result is a system that appears efficient under stable conditions, but is exposed when conditions change.


Professor Benton highlights a central paradox. There is more than enough food produced globally to feed everyone, yet hunger and poor nutrition persist. This is not simply a question of total supply. It is also a question of distribution, affordability, diet quality, and the structure of food systems.

Many populations now consume diets high in processed foods, fats, and sugars, while lacking sufficient access to fresh fruit, vegetables, and diverse plant-based foods. At the same time, agriculture continues to rely heavily on a limited set of crops that are primarily traded in global commodity markets.

This mismatch between production and nutritional need lies at the heart of the modern food challenge.


At the same time, environmental pressures are increasing. Climate change is altering rainfall patterns, increasing the frequency of extreme weather events, and reducing the reliability of harvests in many parts of the world. Soil degradation continues in many intensively farmed areas. Biodiversity loss is weakening the ecological systems that support agriculture, including pollinators and natural pest control.

Energy costs and supply volatility add another layer of uncertainty, given the dependence of modern agriculture on fossil fuels for machinery, fertiliser production, processing, and transport.

Taken individually, these pressures are serious. Taken together, they suggest a system under increasing strain.


One of Professor Benton’s key insights is that complexity itself creates vulnerability. Modern food systems rely on long and interconnected supply chains. A single product may depend on inputs from multiple countries, be processed in several locations, and be transported over long distances before reaching consumers.

This structure has developed over decades in pursuit of efficiency and low cost. It works well when global systems are stable. However, it becomes fragile when disrupted by political conflict, pandemics, transport interruptions, or energy shocks.

Recent events have already demonstrated this fragility. Disruptions to trade routes, increases in energy prices, and geopolitical instability have all led to sharp rises in food prices and reduced availability in certain categories.

The issue is not that food disappears entirely, but that the system becomes less reliable and more expensive.


Professor Benton therefore argues that the future of food cannot be addressed simply by increasing production. Instead, it requires a fundamental reconsideration of how food systems are structured.

Technological innovation will continue to play a role. Improvements in crop genetics, precision agriculture, robotics, data analysis, and alternative proteins may all contribute to efficiency and sustainability. However, these solutions often assume that the existing global structure remains intact.

The deeper question is whether that structure itself is sufficiently resilient for an uncertain future.


A useful way to think about resilience is through diversity. Natural ecosystems are not based on uniformity. They rely on a wide range of species performing different roles. This diversity provides stability by preventing a total system failure when one element is disrupted.

Modern agriculture, by contrast, has moved towards uniformity. Large-scale monocultures dominate many landscapes, and supply chains are highly concentrated.

This creates efficiency, but reduces flexibility.

Reintroducing diversity into food systems can therefore be understood as a form of risk management as much as an environmental goal.


This is where the idea of local food systems becomes particularly important.

A local food system is not simply one that reduces transport distances or supports nearby farmers, although these are valuable outcomes. Its deeper significance lies in resilience and distributed capability.

When food production is spread across many localities rather than concentrated in a small number of large production centres, the system becomes less vulnerable to large-scale disruption. A problem in one place does not automatically cascade through the entire system.

In addition, knowledge and skills are preserved more widely. Farming, horticulture, food processing, and land management remain part of everyday life rather than being confined to a shrinking specialist sector.


In the United Kingdom, this issue is particularly relevant. A significant proportion of food is imported. Supermarket availability depends on functioning international trade, stable fuel supplies, and complex logistics networks.

These systems usually operate effectively. However, they are not guaranteed to remain stable under all conditions.

Recent events have shown how quickly external shocks can affect prices and availability. The system does not need to fail completely for its weaknesses to become visible. Partial disruption is enough to reveal underlying fragility.


A more resilient approach would not remove international trade. Many foods cannot be produced in the United Kingdom, and global exchange has long contributed to dietary variety and cultural exchange.

The issue is balance.

Essential food security would be strengthened by increasing localities’ capacity to produce a greater share of their basic food needs. Trade would then complement local production rather than replace it.

This would reduce dependence on long supply chains for essential items, while still allowing access to foods that are naturally imported.


There is also a social dimension to this discussion. Food is not only an economic commodity. It is part of culture, education, health, and community life.

Over time, many people have become disconnected from the processes that produce their food. Cooking skills have declined in some areas, and knowledge of soil, seasons, and agriculture has diminished.

Rebuilding this knowledge would have benefits beyond food production itself. It would strengthen understanding of nature, improve dietary habits, and support healthier communities.


Public policy also plays a significant role in shaping food systems. Governments influence agriculture through procurement, subsidies, regulation, and education. Large public institutions such as schools, hospitals, and care facilities purchase substantial quantities of food.

These purchasing decisions could be used more deliberately to support resilient local production where appropriate.

In addition, education systems could place greater emphasis on food literacy, including practical skills such as cooking, gardening, and basic land stewardship.


There is a further economic dimension to consider. Modern food systems have developed within a broader framework that assumes continuous economic growth, low energy costs, and highly efficient global logistics.

However, there is increasing debate about whether these assumptions will remain valid indefinitely.

If growth slows or becomes more uneven, systems designed for maximum efficiency may become less robust. In such conditions, resilience may become more valuable than marginal gains in efficiency.


Efficiency and resilience are not the same thing.

Highly efficient systems reduce waste, lower costs, and optimise production. However, they often do so by removing redundancy. Storage is reduced. Supply chains are streamlined. Producers are consolidated.

This works well under stable conditions, but creates vulnerability when disruptions occur.

Resilient systems, by contrast, maintain a degree of redundancy. They may appear less efficient in purely economic terms, but they are better able to absorb shocks.


Nature provides a clear example of this principle. Ecosystems survive not because they are optimised for a single outcome, but because they contain multiple overlapping functions. When one pathway is disrupted, others can compensate.

Applying this principle to food systems suggests the importance of maintaining multiple sources of production, diverse farming methods, and distributed supply networks.


A resilient food future would therefore include several key elements.

Every locality would retain a meaningful capacity to produce food.

Agricultural knowledge would remain widely distributed.

A greater proportion of fresh food would be produced closer to where it is consumed.

Public institutions would support local production through procurement.

Trade would continue, but would not be the sole foundation of food security.


This is not a return to the past. It is an adaptation to present and future conditions.

Modern tools, scientific knowledge, and improved agricultural techniques can all contribute to stronger local food systems. Technology is not the opposite of localism. It can be an important support for it.

The key distinction is not between modern and traditional methods, but between fragile dependence and distributed resilience.


Professor Benton’s work helps clarify the scale of the challenge. The current food system has delivered abundance, but at the cost of increasing complexity and vulnerability.

The question now is not whether change will occur, but how it will occur and whether it will be planned or forced by circumstances.


A more resilient food system would not rely on a single model. It would combine global trade with strong local production, technological innovation with ecological understanding, and economic efficiency with social and environmental stability.

Above all, it would recognise that food is not simply a commodity. It is a foundation of security, health, and community life.


The future of food will therefore depend on choices made in the present. These choices will shape not only what people eat, but how societies function under conditions of uncertainty.

If resilience becomes the guiding principle, then strengthening local food systems is not a marginal idea. It becomes central to long-term stability.

In that sense, the strongest food system is not necessarily the one that spans the greatest distance. It is the one that can continue to function when wider systems are under strain.

And that begins, quite simply, in every locality.

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

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

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

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

Yet this apparent triumph concealed a dangerous dependency.

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

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

The chain of events is simple enough.

Energy shortages lead to reduced fertiliser production.

Reduced fertiliser availability leads to lower application rates by farmers.

Lower fertiliser use leads to lower crop yields.

Lower yields lead to food shortages and rising prices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without rationing, the poor suffer first.

With rationing, hardship is shared.

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

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

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

Localism offers another way of thinking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the road back to resilience begins in the locality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

306. The population conundrum

What goes up will come down (and harder than you think)

William E Rees

Jun 05, 2026

The thing about population

One of the most curious features of the mainstream unsustainability debate is almost complete absence of reckoning with ‘population-as-obvious-driver’. The subject remains taboo, mustn’t go there. Even serious degrowthers avoid discussing actively degrowing the human population.

This is, as they say, regrettable.

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Unsustainability is about overshoot and overshoot is about humans consuming beyond nature’s recovery rate and dumping wastes in excess of nature’s assimilation capacity. In short, there are already too many people consuming and polluting too much. Need I note (again) that overshoot is, by definition, ultimately a terminal condition?

These are not casual observations that we can merely take under advisement, things that we might consider later if it doesn’t cost too much. In particular, if it is obvious the total human impact on Earth is the product of average impact per person and the number of people doing the impacting, why is population reduction not a major focus of sustainability survival planning?

“Unfair,” you protest, “not all humans are equal impactors.”

Quite true, so let’s get the inequality factor (and any taint of racism) out of the way. Data show that that the richest 10% of people are responsible for half or more of carbon emissions; the wealthy quarter of people account for 52% of resource consumption while the poorest quarter get by on only 6%. This means that, should the global community decide to act aggressively to reduce consumption/emissions by the necessary 44% overall, simple justice would demand that the wealthy take by far the greatest hit (~80% reduction per capita in North America).

Fair enough—though rather more easily said than done. The currently well-to-do are, er… inclined to resist. Income redistribution is, like population planning, taboo. Protected by wealth and associated political leverage, major vested interests, particulary the corporate oligarchs who run the world, won’t even discuss the inequality problem—except to insist we can grow our way to sufficiency-for-all.

And there’s another fly in the equality ointment—even a successful ‘great leveling’ would by no means relieve us of the population question:

· First, overshoot means that even if all 8.2 billion humans had identical lifestyles and ecological footprints, we’d still be in overshoot. Averaging impacts doesn’t reduce totals; material quality per se is not enough—we’d still have to reduce consumption by almost half.

· Second, in recent decades incremental increases in humanity’s (consumption based) ecological footprint and carbon emissions have been driven more by population growth than by increased incomes/consumption in almost all income categories; population growth is a major co-driver of overshoot.

· Third, billions of people in lower income countries (particularly in Africa) are justifiably striving to attain developed nations’ material living standards. But Earth, in overshoot, is not now sustainably supporting even present average levels of consumption; how could it be expected to cope were all 8.2 billion members of the human family living high on the hog? (Remember, we’re supposed to be reducing aggregate consumption; see first bullet point.)

· Forth, we’re actually headed for 10+ billion by the 2080s. Most of the projected population growth will occur in those poorer countries with the greatest material needs and expectations. This amounts to adrenaline for overshoot. What are the additional consequences for global heating and ecological stability? ‘Tipping points’, anyone? Still want to ignore population?

To raise overpopulation-as-issue and ask such obvious questions is not racist; it is simply acknowledging crucial realities and the associated moral dilemma.

Avoiding the obvious

Analysts and the world community actually have myriad reasons for skirting the population question—ancient religious prohibitions, fear of being labeled eco-fascist/racist, self-interested resistance to reform, fanatical allegiance to the perpetual growth ethic and growing science denial being among the most prominent.[1] In one way or another, however, most such excuses arguably spring from the deep ‘exceptionalist’ soil of modern techno-industrial (MTI) culture. To wit: Why be concerned about population? Humans aren’t animals, certainly not like the others; we stand above nature and don’t have to be concerned about natural laws. In any case human ingenuity (technology) will sever any population-to-resources link and solve the overshoot problem.

That’s the happy-clappy story we tell ourselves.

Too bad it’s merely a shared delusion. What goes on in our collective brain often has no grounding in reality.

The obvious flaw here is that H. sapiens not only is an animal, but is the major macro-consumer species in every accessible ecosystem on the planet (always at the expense of both our prey species and our competitors for available biomass). If the scale of material use and population were prime criteria, humans are the most successful large vertebrate ever to walk the Earth. The sheer weight of humans is ten times greater than that of all wild mammals combined. More broadly, the human enterprise has effectively merged (albeit destructively) with the ecosphere and is warping major geophysical processes from the climate and water cycles to landscape erosion. Quite the contrary record for a self-aggrandizing rapacious ape that claims to be detached from the natural world.

Just like the others

Which suggests it might be instructive to pay more attention to what we know about non-human population dynamics—there are plenty of examples of overshoot at work in other large mammal species.

For example, the graph at the top shows the trajectories of reindeer populations in the decades after a few individuals were introduced to the Pribilof Islands off Alaska early in the 20th Century. The islands were resource-rich and predator free. The reindeer, like all species’ populations enjoying favourable conditions, began expanding exponentially. From a handful of individuals in 1911, the St Paul Island herd ballooned to over 2000 individuals in under 30 years before going nearly extinct in little more than a decade. (The St George story was similar but less dramatic.)

The St Paul reindeer’s three decades of expansion provide a classic example of exponential (aka ‘geometric’) growth. This is a form of positive feedback in which each new generation adds to the breeding population ensuring that the next generation will be even larger than itself. The increasing steepness of the curve shows how such ‘compound interest’ accelerates population growth.

An exponentially expanding population has a constant doubling time. After a characteristically slow start in a new habitat, the St Paul herd reached 500 animals around 1931-32, had doubled in less than four years by 1934-35 and doubled again in the next four years, reaching its peak of 2048 animals in 1938-39. The population then crashed spectacularly—there were only eight survivors by 1950. The reindeer had overshot the regenerative capacity of certain lichens, a vital food source in winter. Depleted lichen = starving reindeer, particularly if the winter is exceptionally cold. Out-and-out starvation is one form of negative feedback due to overpopulation; the demise of animals weakened by hunger and succumbing to disease or foul weather is another.

On the upside, the collapse of an over-grazing animal population allows the habitat, particularly crucial food sources, to recover.

So, what have a bunch of starving deer on an Arctic island got to do with we humans?

Quite a lot, actually. For starters, as Malthus emphasized in 1798, humans are just as capable of geometric/exponential growth under favourable conditions as any other species. Malthus also reasoned that we are as potentially susceptible to starvation and other negative feedbacks when circumstances turn South (e.g., when crops fail or pandemics rage).

In this light consider Figure 1. This graph provides a low-resolution portrait of human population over the past 10,000 years, roughly since the beginning of agriculture.

Note that, despite the boost from occasional food surpluses, the population increase for 80% of this period was negligible, averaging only ~.04% annually. Starting from ~4-5 million, it took 8000 years for human numbers to reach just 232 million two millennia ago. The reason is fairly straight-forward; H. sapiens innate capacity for rapid geometric growth (positive feedback) was mostly held in check by local food shortages, constant territorial conflict, and disease (negative feedbacks).[2] As late as the 14th Century, bubonic plague killed off more than a quarter of the European population.

Nevertheless, the population kept growing at a slowly increasing rate. The real boost came with the Enlightenment (beginning in the late 17th Century) and subsequent scientific/industrial revolution. Humanity reached its first billion around 1820 then really took off, eventually on all continents, with improvements in public health and medicine (which reduced death rates) but especially with the exponential increase in fossil fuel-based technologies (which increased food production and access to all other resources needed to support the growing population). Together, these cultural factors enabled humanity to realize its maximum biological capacity for exponential population growth for the first time in human evolutionary history.

Note that the human population trajectory over the past 100 years is a geometric replica of the 30-year explosion of the St Paul reindeer herd (differing only in population size and because the human animal has a longer generation time). By 1927 the human population had reached two billion; we doubled to four billion in ~47 years by 1974-5; the next doubling to eight billion in 2022 also took 47 years (note the constant doubling time).[3] In short, the upslope of the human population growth curve has the same shape as that of the St Paul reindeer herd to peak.[4] It’s nature’s way.

It’s also ‘nature way’ for negative feedback to cut in and strengthen as a population approaches carrying capacity (which depends on habitat productivity and related factors). Figure 2 compares unconstrained exponential growth (2a) with so-called ‘logistic growth’ (2b), the idealized damping of positive feedback by the gradual onset of negative feedback. As population density increases in a specific habitat, so too does competition for food and space; with more crowding, communicable diseases and parasites spread more easily thus increasing mortality; a dense population of prey species attracts predators, increasing the death rate (and producing higher populations of well-fed predators). In theory then, the growth of a population of interest should slow asymptotically as it nears carrying capacity [Figure 2 (b)]. In practice, populations of typical slowly-reproducing mammals like humans tend to fluctuate in the vicinity of long-term carrying capacity as habitat and complex ecological relationships change.

But not always, in extreme cases, particularly in simpler systems such as reindeer on predator-free St Paul Island, the fluctuation may be a dramatic, even terminal, population crash.

Which brings us back to thinking about humans and how far to take our reindeer analogy. The St Paul reindeer population plunged rapidly after reaching peak, but does that say anything important about the human future?

It’s complicated.

Indeed, the human socio-political-ecosystem is vastly more complex and potentially more resilient than was the St Paul Island ecosystem. For example, mainly due to social negative feedbacks,[5] human fertility is actually falling (to the consternation of economists and most governments). The world population is currently expanding at ‘only’ ~70 million people annually, a rate of .85%/year, down and still-declining from the 1963 maximum of 2.2%.

In some ways this is encouraging—one might argue that humanity is gradually approaching peak population and will level off at or below carrying capacity as in Figure 2(b). Conventional wisdom (e.g., United Nations population projections) has it that our population will peak at 10.3 billion in the mid-1980s and then begin a controlled decline to 10.2 billion by 2100. It could be that all is well—crash avoided, airbags unnecessary.

But that’s not the whole story. UN and other conventional population projects are rooted in exceptionalist thinking. They are based entirely on ‘endogenous’ data, e.g., age- and sex-specific mortality rates and average female fertility all abstracted from biophysical reality. There is no consideration of ‘exogenous’ or external factors, the possibility of significant negative feedbacks from the ‘environment’, broadly defined.

Which brings us to Figure 3 (borrowed from my most recent previous post) which includes a should-be-alarming alternative scenario. Note that this graph incorporates Figure 2 (a) and (b). It acknowledges that human carrying capacity is a practical concept, that at any defined average material standard of living there will be a maximum sustainable human population.[6]

Figure 3 presents the recent human population trajectory as an exponential/geometric growth curve which has, indeed, begun to slow and approach peak (first half of solid red line). However, it also indicates that this peak far exceeds pre-industrial sustainable carrying capacity (dotted horizontal black line). Technology has taken humanity far into overshoot which means that our large and growing population is living and expanding by depleting even self-replenishing resources, from fish stocks and forests, to arable soils and groundwater reserves, and by polluting air, soil and waters beyond natural assimilation rates. In doing so, we are causing global heating, destabilizing climate patterns, extinguishing hundreds of other species and otherwise reducing Earth’s productivity and livability. (As I write this much of the Northern Hemisphere including Western Europe is suffering record heat waves. A third of humanity—more than three billion people—may be forced outside of our species’ historic ‘climate niche’ by century’s end). Global heating brings an increasing risk of wide-spread disease and pandemics—recent measles, hantavirus and ebola outbreaks underscore this point—as well as local energy, food and water shortages.

In short, the evidence suggests that exogenous negative feedbacks are rapidly returning as an additional significant factor in human population dynamics. Trump’s war and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz (which has broken crucial global supply chains for petroleum, natural gas, urea fertilizer) is providing a preview of a possible global future of chaos and suffering that will eventually visit millions/billions of people as resources run down and limits are breached.

What might have been

Note that an actively intelligent species, one that accepted its niche in the natural world and understood population and systems dynamics[7], would have self-managed to ensure that its population followed the sigmoid growth curve gradually slowing growth to equilibrate (fluctuate, actually) in the vicinity of long-term carrying capacity (Figure 3, solid green line). Maintaining a civilization at a reasonable material standard yet within the productive capacity of its supportive ecosystems is called “one-planet living”.

As matters stand, MTI civilization is a victim of culture-wide self-deception. We have blown the opportunity to optimize or ‘green line’ human life on this single planet Earth. Other eco-oriented demographic analyses agree that Earth cannot support even the present population without a transformation of mainstream MTI cultural beliefs, values, assumptions and behaviours. Resource depletion, ecosystems destruction and destabilization of global life-support functions have reduced long-term bio-productivity and, with it, human carrying capacity[8] whatever the preferred material standard—and this corrosive process is obviously continuing.

The likely outcome is a ‘great simplification’ of MTI societies, much as was projected by the business-as-usual scenario of the original 1972 Limits to Growth report and several follow-up studies of real-world post 1972 trends. Are we prepared for major economic contraction and accompanying population ‘correction’?

We have too long downplayed the population question. The best humanity can now achieve as we come off peak, is to track the dotted red line (Figure 3) and work toward stabilizing our population within the much-reduced productive means of nature. Should we succeed, future generations will live at numbers well below pre-industrial carrying capacity (dotted black line). This assumes we don’t render ourselves extinct in the resource and habitat conflicts that will accompany the coming implosion (total systems collapse segment of the solid red line).

Epilogue

There are no secrets about any of the above. The threats posed by advanced overshoot fills academic journals and even recent policy analyses; ecologists have studied many boom-bust cycles in nature; the unique elements of human population dynamics are well known; policy makers are well-versed in all sides of the (un)sustainability story. Yet quirky MTI culture still denies the population problem.

All of which goes to show, once more, that macro-scale (corporate, national, geopolitical behaviour) is rarely guided by mere facts and analysis unless the latter support existing mythology, economic narratives, development policies and, of course, our governing elites. The modern ‘system’—MTI culture—has acquired a momentum of its own, powered by innate behavioural tendencies; religious doctrines; equally fantastical cultural narratives (e.g., human exeptionalism and infinite economic growth); powerful influencers; privileged self-interest; emotional resistence; willful blindness and a large dollop of popular indifference/ignorance.

The coming implosion should therefore hardly come as a shock. It is the inevitable product of a defective cultural algorithm combined with human cognitive maleability. The most recent ten generations of modern humans (out of ~17,000 generations) have lived mostly unaware that these are truly exceptional times. MTI peoples have been mesmerized into thinking that continuous economic and population growth are normal and ‘to be continued’; in counter-fact, the past 200 years of fossil-powered growth is the most anomalous period in human history and is ‘to be curtailed.’

The human population went way up; it will come down.

Perhaps some will find comfort in knowing that, one way or another, the next century will see a return to normalcy. Conceivably, like St Paul Island, our Earthly habitat will eventually recover from humanity’s over-grazing.

The seeming inevitability of the transition does not, however, relieve the present generation of responsibility. This is no time to relax; we theoretically still have a choice between acting in ‘normal’ ways that facilitate a fast and brutal collapse or of exercising our much-vaunted high intelligence by coming together cooperatively to manage a controlled and humanely equitable soft landing.

Where would you put your money?


[1] Actually, and perversely, we’re not exactly ‘skirting the population question’. Many high-income countries are actively promoting pro-natalist policies to maintain or grow their populations in the face of declining fertility.

[2] Positive feedback occurs when a change in a systems variable generates further change in the same direction (deviation reinforcing). Negative feedback occurs when a change in a systems variable results in suppression of change in the same direction (deviation counter-acting).

[3] The instantaneous population growth rates actually increased initially during these periods rising, in humanity’s case, to a maximum of 2.2%/annum in the early-mid 1960s.

[4] The compressed time scale and steepness of the curve obscures this fact.

[5] E.g., greater economic freedom for women, improved family-planning education, increasing availability of pregnancy prevention technologies, concern about bringing children into an unstable world, etc.

[6] The numerical maximum can vary substantially. All else held constant, Earth could support more people at a modest material standard than if we all choose to live high on the hog (apparently the MTI default position).

[7] H. sapiens did actually understand all this but, being above nature, chose to ignore mere biology.

[8] Bio-productivity or biocapacity is a quality of ecosystems and should not be confused with carrying capacity which is always a population number. The two variables are related, of course—a highly bio-productive habitat (e.g., temperate grasslands) will support more people at any defined material standard than will a comparably-sized low-quality habitat (semi-arid scrubland). (See also Note #6.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

299. How was electricity generated in the early days?

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

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

Here are the main early methods:

  1. Steam engines

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

Typical uses:

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

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

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6

  1. Water power

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

This was one of the first forms of hydroelectricity.

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7

  1. Gas engines

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

  1. Wind and small local systems

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

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4

  1. Direct current (DC)

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

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

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

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

298. The National Grid and the Return to Local Electricity

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

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

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

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

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

The problem is not simply generation. It is transmission.

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

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

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

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

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

This may eventually force a historic reversal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

297. Rethinking Birmingham and the Future of Large UK Cities: Localism, Constraint, and an Uncertain Urban Future

In my earlier piece, Birmingham was described as a city likely to reorganise itself under economic pressure: transport corridors becoming more important, housing concentrating around nodes, discretionary markets contracting, and localism gradually becoming more significant. That remains a plausible line of thought.

But there is a deeper question that now needs to be addressed more directly:

Are we still assuming that large metropolitan systems like Birmingham will simply “shrink and adapt”, when in fact they may become structurally difficult to sustain at anything like their present scale?

This is where the issue becomes more uncertain.


1. The core assumption under pressure: that cities simply “reorganise”

Much of the earlier analysis assumes that:

  • Cities adjust to lower surplus
  • transport systems contract but remain broadly intact
  • Rail and tram corridors continue in some form
  • settlement becomes more localised within existing urban structures

However, this still quietly assumes that:

  • The metropolitan system remains fundamentally viable
  • Enough surplus exists to maintain large-scale coordination
  • Transport and services can be selectively reduced rather than fundamentally transformed

That assumption may be too optimistic if energy, finance, and productivity constraints tighten significantly.


2. Why large cities may be harder to sustain than expected

Modern metropolitan areas are not simply large settlements. They are high-maintenance systems.

They depend upon continuous flows of:

  • energy (electricity, transport fuels, heating)
  • food from long distances
  • complex logistics networks
  • large-scale financial transfers
  • centralised administrative systems
  • constant infrastructure repair and renewal

Even partial weakening of these flows creates disproportionate stress because the system is tightly interdependent.

This leads to a critical point:

Large cities do not scale down easily; they tend to become fragile when their surplus input falls below a threshold.


3. The subsidy problem and hidden dependency

Both rail and tram systems, along with many urban services, are already heavily subsidised.

This implies that:

  • The current metropolitan functioning is not fully self-supporting
  • Large-scale urban life already depends on continuous external support

If:

  • National fiscal capacity tightens
  • Local authority budgets weaken
  • Energy costs rise
  • Discretionary tax base shrinks

Then, maintaining even “reduced versions” of current systems may become difficult.

This raises the possibility that:

Some metropolitan functions may not gradually contract, but instead become selectively unaffordable.


4. Localism does not necessarily support large cities

A key point often missed is that localism and large metropolitan systems may not reinforce each other.

Localism tends to favour:

  • shorter supply chains
  • smaller settlement units
  • local food systems
  • reduced travel distances
  • distributed economic activity

Large cities depend on:

  • long supply chains
  • high mobility
  • centralised employment
  • large infrastructure networks

So while localism may strengthen, it does not automatically stabilise Birmingham as a large integrated system. Instead, it may:

  • Weaken metropolitan dependency structures
  • Reduce commuting fields
  • Encourage dispersion of activity into smaller centres

This creates tension rather than simple adaptation.


5. Energy constraint and the scale question

The most fundamental uncertainty is energy.

Whether through:

  • Reduced fossil fuel availability
  • higher extraction costs
  • climate constraints
  • geopolitical instability
  • or partial transition to lower-density renewables

The key issue is not just “what energy exists”, but:

How much surplus energy exists after the cost of producing and maintaining the energy system itself?

Large cities are surplus-dependent structures. If surplus declines, the system does not just slow down; it changes what size of organisation is viable.

Historically:

  • Pre-industrial societies supported only small cities and towns
  • Industrial fossil energy allowed very large metropolitan systems

If that surplus narrows again, the question becomes whether:

Current metropolitan sizes remain structurally supportable at all


6. Why does Birmingham become a genuine puzzle

Birmingham sits exactly at the intersection of these pressures:

  • large inherited infrastructure
  • heavy service obligations
  • extensive transport systems
  • dependence on regional and national flows
  • Financial stress already visible in governance

It is therefore neither:

  • a small town that can easily self-organise locally
    nor
  • a globally dominant city with unlimited surplus capacity

It is an intermediate-scale system whose long-term equilibrium is unclear.

That is what makes it a puzzle:

It is large enough to be structurally complex, but potentially not wealthy enough to sustain that complexity indefinitely under constraint.


7. What remains uncertain

There are at least three possible long-term directions:

A. Managed contraction

  • Cities shrink but remain coherent
  • core services survive
  • transport reduces but continues in simplified form

B. Fragmentation into local systems

  • Metropolitan cohesion weakens
  • Neighbourhood-level systems strengthen
  • The city becomes a patchwork of semi-independent localities

C. Selective survival of cores

  • central zones remain functional
  • peripheral areas lose integration
  • transport and services concentrate heavily in limited corridors

At present, it is not clear which dominates, or whether different UK cities follow different paths.


8. Final reflection

Localism may still emerge in some form regardless of the outcome. But the earlier assumption that large cities like Birmingham will simply “adapt into localised corridor systems” may be too smooth.

A more realistic framing may be:

The future of large UK cities is not a simple transition, but an unresolved structural question shaped by energy limits, fiscal capacity, and the scale at which complex urban systems remain affordable.

In that sense, Birmingham is not just an example of change.

It is a test case for something still not fully understood:

How large a city can be when the surplus that created it is no longer growing, and may be shrinking instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

289. Trouble at the Top

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

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

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

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

That world is now fading.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

282. Wind Turbines, Warming, and the Limits of Industrial Solutions

A recent article discussing a 2018 Harvard study has reignited debate about one of the central assumptions of modern climate policy – namely, that large-scale wind energy automatically reduces environmental harm.

The study, published in the academic journal Joule, argued that if the United States were powered predominantly by wind turbines, the turbines themselves would alter local climate conditions by mixing warmer upper air with cooler surface air, especially at night. The result, according to the study, would be measurable local surface warming.

The article presents this as a profound contradiction. If the purpose of decarbonisation is to reduce warming, what happens if one of the principal technologies used to achieve it creates warming of its own?

This issue deserves careful thought, because it reveals something much bigger than a dispute about wind turbines. It highlights the growing tension between industrial-scale technological solutions and the realities of the natural world.

The Harvard study did not say that wind turbines create new heat in the way greenhouse gases trap additional heat in the atmosphere. Instead, the turbines redistribute existing heat through turbulence. Large rotating blades disturb the natural layering of air, especially at night when the atmosphere is calmer. Warmer air from above is mixed downward, slightly raising surface temperatures near large wind installations.

The effect appears to be real and measurable at local scale. However, the way the findings are interpreted politically is another matter entirely.

Supporters of wind power argue that local temperature changes from turbines are fundamentally different from long-term global greenhouse warming.

Critics argue that ordinary people experience local conditions, not global averages, and therefore immediate warming near turbine concentrations matters greatly.

What is striking is not merely the scientific disagreement, but the scale of industrial intervention now being contemplated. Replacing fossil-fuel electricity entirely with wind would require an extraordinary transformation of landscapes. Vast areas of countryside would become energy production zones, filled with turbines, access roads, substations, transmission lines, maintenance systems, and backup infrastructure.

This is where the issue moves beyond climate science into the wider question of how industrial civilisation attempts to solve problems.

Modern societies increasingly assume that every difficulty can be overcome through another layer of technology, finance, regulation, and construction. Yet each solution creates additional complications which then require further solutions. Wind turbines reduce one category of emissions while introducing other effects involving land use, mineral extraction, intermittency, visual impact, ecological disturbance, grid instability, and now possibly local climatic alteration.

The deeper problem may not be wind itself, but scale.

Industrial societies always seek gigantic centralised systems because the entire financial and political structure depends upon continuous expansion.

Energy systems are expected to power endless economic growth, mass mobility, global supply chains, artificial intelligence, data centres, and ever-increasing consumption. Under those conditions, no energy source is ever sufficient for long.

This is why the debate often becomes polarised between supporters of fossil fuels, wind, solar, or nuclear power, when the more fundamental issue concerns the size and expectations of the economy itself.

If societies continue to attempt to maintain present levels of industrial consumption indefinitely, every energy source will face serious consequences.

Fossil fuels contribute to atmospheric carbon accumulation.

Wind requires enormous land transformation and industrial infrastructure.

Solar requires vast mining operations, transmission systems, and large areas of land coverage.

Nuclear introduces long-term waste management, security requirements, and extremely centralised political control.

None of these systems truly escapes the laws of nature. They merely redistribute pressures in different ways.

From the perspective of localism, the most important lesson may be that the future cannot simply be engineered through larger and more complex national systems. Instead, societies may gradually be forced toward lower-energy, more local, and less consumption-driven ways of living.

In such a future, the objective changes completely.

Instead of asking how to sustain infinite industrial growth with alternative energy, communities should begin to ask how to live well with less energy overall.

That change alters everything.

Smaller local economies require less transport.

Local food production reduces dependence on refrigerated global supply chains.

Repair replaces disposal.

Housing adapts to climate rather than depending entirely upon mechanical heating and cooling.

Daily life becomes physically closer to people’s homes.

Under those conditions, energy systems also become smaller, more diverse, and more adapted to locality rather than dominated by gigantic national infrastructures.

This does not necessarily mean wind turbines disappear entirely. Small-scale local generation may still have a role. But the industrial dream of covering whole continents with vast energy machinery begins to look increasingly like another temporary phase of late industrial civilisation rather than a permanent solution.

The Harvard study, therefore, matters less because it proves or disproves wind power and more because it exposes the unintended consequences that emerge whenever industrial society attempts to overpower natural limits with still larger technological systems.

The central issue may not be whether wind turbines warm the air slightly.

The central issue may be whether humanity is finally approaching the point where it must stop trying to sustain unlimited industrial expansion altogether.

279. Why the World Feels Like It’s Falling Apart: A Superorganism Speed Round

Nate Hagens May 5

This essay is adapted from the Frankly episode posted on May 30th, 2025 titled, “Why the World Feels Like It’s Falling Apart: The Superorganism Explained in 7 Minutes.”


On this platform, the Great Simplification, we’re trying to change the initial conditions of the future. We do this by putting together a quite complex, wide-boundary overview of the human predicament, including how humans and the biosphere interrelate. We also explore what the underpinnings, scenarios, and interventions are in this predicament. It’s complex, it’s threatening, and it’s not for the faint of heart. This content isn’t for everyone.

But then there’s another filter, which is attention span. A lot of people today, including me, don’t have the attention span for a 90-minute podcast. I can interview someone for 90 minutes – or for three and a half hours in Daniel Schmachtenberger’s case – but I am just too busy and don’t have the attention span to sit and watch something for that long (or read a 4k-5k word essay). I’m sure there are increasing numbers of people falling into that category.

So, this platform’s message could be parsed into something shorter. Last year, I was in California doing a sort of pre-TED talk event called “Ignite.” The challenge offered to me was, “Nate, can you give a five minute talk, with only twenty slides?” Of course, I say, “Sure, I’d be happy to.”

It ended up being one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. When I actually presented, I only had fifteen seconds for each of the slides. The one I had prepared on the economic Superorganism, which is a central theme of this platform, ended up not working.

Because of that, I decided to take this opportunity to redo the Superorganism – in a shorter, tighter delivery. I hope this can be a helpful resource for those new to my work, and to send to those unfamiliar with the more-than-human predicament.

Surplus and Civilization

Let’s start by looking at the conditions we live in today. Modern civilization looks impressive relative to the past – invincible markets grow, planes fly, artificial intelligence has arrived. Yet, something doesn’t feel right beneath the surface. More vital signs are flashing red. There are lots of people working on “cures,” but we are mostly prescribing fixes without first diagnosing the underlying condition. The “patient” is the energy-and-materially-coupled system of the global economy embedded inside Earth’s biosphere. The symptoms we’re seeing and feeling make sense, but only once we zoom out and see how the whole system fits together.

Most people believe that money powers the world, but this is a narrow viewpoint. If we zoom out further, it’s really energy. Animals were the first investors, spending calories in order to gain more. This surplus energy built organisms, ecosystems, and eventually human cultures and the civilization we experience today.

Two centuries ago, we tapped into the stored energy of ancient sunlight in the form of coal, oil, and gas. A single barrel of oil, when combined with a machine, can do around five years of human labor for mere pennies. It’s portable, concentrated, and incredibly cheap magic. This fossil jackpot underpins the phenomenon I call the Carbon Pulse – a one-time release of energy that’s been stored over deep geologic time. In under 200 years, we’ve burned what took millions of years to form. This isn’t a paycheck that keeps showing up in our bank account, it’s a trust fund with which we’ve been throwing a planet-wide party.

When paired with machines, this huge energy surplus has done wonders. Population, production, and profits have all soared, powered by an invisible fossil army equivalent to half a trillion human workers.

But such power also comes with blind spots. Our culture confuses the tiny cost of fossil energy with the enormous value it provides us and ignores the pollution impacts almost entirely. We built a global economy that’s fully dependent on these two hidden subsidies, without acknowledging or even seeing them. Today, we remain energy blind, mistaking financial and technological growth for progress and forgetting what enabled and empowered these things in the first place.


Emergence and the Superorganism

In nature, complexity builds through flows of energy and materials. Forests, coral reefs, and even brains all emerge from this dynamic. Human systems are no exception. Cities, economies, and technologies are all self-organized as emergent structures powered by energy and shaped by matter. From simple patterns like this, nature creates beautiful patterns.

For example, a single starling follows three rules when flying in a group:

  1. Stay close to your neighbor
  2. Don’t run into your neighbor
  3. Move towards the center.

From these seemingly unremarkable behaviors, a breathtaking murmuration appears – fluid, unpredictable, and alive. This is called emergence, and it happens in the human world too. Billions of individuals, businesses, and nations each follow simple cultural rules: seek profit, minimize cost, and grow. All of this is tethered to energy, materials, and ecosystem impact. The result is global physical patterns that no one designed or intended – and few are accounting for.

If we zoom out far enough, human civilization itself starts looking and acting like a giant organism with its own metabolism. Data flows, echoing neural signals, while highways and shipping lanes function like veins and arteries with gasoline and diesel as blood. Fractal nodes in the global system require a higher and higher baseline metabolic requirement each year.

What has emerged is something new and massive: a globally-synchronized economic Superorganism, built from energy, machines, and billions of human decisions, all driven by both biological and cultural incentives.

This Superorganism is mindless, unplanning, and energy-hungry. It isn’t evil, it doesn’t feel, and it doesn’t care about equity, ecology, or human wellbeing. It solely optimizes for throughput, scale, and for more – even when more becomes the problem. There is no mastermind behind the wheel, only billions of incentives aligned in the same direction toward extraction and consumption.

We’ve inadvertently built a system that rewards material expansion, not wisdom, and we’ve outsourced our decision-making to markets and algorithms. As a result, we have consumed more energy and materials in the past thirty years than all humans before us combined. Our current culture feels and acts like it will continue forever, but infinite growth on a finite planet is not possible. Technology on its own won’t save us, because it runs on the same fuel and has the same master.

The Superorganism cannot see what’s coming. It doesn’t anticipate, it only reacts – and the signals it reacts to are prices set for profits, which ignore the deeper long-term risks of constantly striving for growth.

So far, our collective response when we’ve hit limits has been to go deeper into ecological and biophysical debt. Buy now and pay later at a planetary scale, now in full effect. When central banks print money, they are not printing oil, copper, or lithium. They’re actually printing claims on those things. In other words, we can double the money supply, but the fossil fuels, forest, metals, and orangutans haven’t doubled. The financial system assumes endless growth, but the physical world, both the sources and the sinks, have limits.

Down-Slope of the Carbon Pulse

For over two centuries, growth has been our default, fueled by energy and abundance and amplified by financial systems. But we are now hitting ecological, energetic, and social constraints. The cultural story of “more” is colliding with physical reality. What if more money doesn’t help, but only accelerates our transmutation of non-renewable wealth into temporary income?

The up-slope of the Carbon Pulse brought growth and complexity. On the down-slope, the inverse will happen: less energy, less complexity, less “more.” This phenomenon is what I call the “Great Simplification,” and is also the namesake of this platform.

This Great Simplification is not a “maybe,” it’s a “when.” The economic Superorganism is not something humans plan for, nor something we wanted. It’s an emergent phenomenon of large numbers of social primates blindly interacting with a large energy surplus. Downstream of aggregate behavior, as individuals, humans continue to seek the emotional states that served our ancestors. But now we live in a world of scale, speed, and stimulation they never faced. We are a species far out of context. But we are not just individuals, we’re also deeply social animals. Our values and behaviors adapt to our cultural environment. This is the bright spot, because culture can change – sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. It’s in our nature to shift once the story shifts too.

At the end of the day, the things that truly bring us joy and meaning are not tied to material consumption once our basic human needs are met. What fulfills us is ancient connection, purpose, time in nature, and being in service to others. Humans don’t need endless growth to live rich, meaningful lives.

Responses to a Simplification

So what can we do as this Superorganism reaches old age? The responses fall into four broad categories, in my view:

  1. Policy: biophysical realism and planning for bending rather than breaking as we approach a Great Simplification.
  2. Cultural: new stories, less hubris, and more trust and social capital.
  3. Community: mutual aid, more localized food and supply chains, and ecosystem repair.
  4. Personal: skills, mindset, connection, and meaning.

We can’t easily steer or stop the economic Superorganism, but we can plant the seeds for what comes next. Each of us can be the mitochondria in the cells of a different social organism being born in the not too distant future – in communities, in bioregions, and in gatherings across the world. I talk about this more in one of my videos, 10 Qualities That Could Change the Future: The Seeds of New Cultural Mitochondria. This is already happening, and the stakes have never been higher for humans and the biosphere.

Power scales up – energy, money, control, hierarchy. Life scales deep – interconnection, regeneration, community. The future depends on which of these we feed. This is more than a crisis, it is a rite of passage for Homo sapiens. The Superorganism we are part of today is not our destiny as a species, but it is a fork in what could still be the long road of our time on Earth. So start the conversation. Build local resilience. Consider being more actively in service of life.

This was just a primer on the human predicament (the college course I taught on this was a hundred hours). There is a huge amount left unsaid here, and every sentence could have been unpacked further. That’s part of our problem, our culture has come to favor short, simple explanations, while reality is nuanced and complex. But I am confident that, over time, integration of our reality – the systems science – can help us meet the future halfway.

278. Electricity and the Transition to Localism: How the Structure of the Grid May Shape the Structure of Society

It is often assumed that if the UK electricity grid became financially difficult to maintain, the result would be a sudden national blackout. That is very unlikely. But it is equally unrealistic to assume that the system could simply be reorganised from the centre if the financial economy itself weakened severely.

The more realistic conclusion is that the future of electricity supply cannot be predicted in detail. It depends too heavily on what remains operational in the financial system, transport, communications, and engineering support.

However, although the process cannot be predicted, the direction of change can be understood. Electricity is not just another service. It is one of the main structures that shape how society organises itself. Changes in electricity supply, therefore, help us see how the country might move gradually from a fully centralised industrial system toward a more locality-based one.

Electricity networks do not just support society. They help determine its scale.


Electricity networks reflect the economy they serve

In a growth-based industrial economy the objective of the electricity network is simple:

To supply everyone, everywhere, continuously

This assumption has shaped the design of the modern grid. It depends on:

stable finance
large contractor networks
complex control systems
national coordination
continuous maintenance
reliable fuel logistics

When those conditions exist, universal supply is practical.

But when those conditions weaken, the network’s objective changes. Infrastructure always adapts to the economy that supports it.

The question then becomes not whether electricity disappears, but what electricity networks are for.


The electricity system is not just engineering

It is easy to think of the grid as wires and power stations. In reality, it depends on the organisation.

It relies every day on:

credit
insurance
spare parts supply
telecommunications
software support
transport logistics
contractor availability
specialist engineers

If these weaken, the network weakens with them.

If they weaken severely, the system cannot simply be redesigned from the centre. Large infrastructure depends on management capacity as much as engineering capacity.


A national financial shock would affect the whole country at once

If the financial system weakened seriously, the effect on electricity supply would begin everywhere at roughly the same time.

Credit would tighten nationally.

Procurement systems would weaken nationally.

Contracting arrangements would fail nationally.

Maintenance capacity would reduce nationally.

So the change would not spread slowly from one region to another. It would begin everywhere.

However, the consequences would quickly become uneven.


Electricity cannot be reduced evenly across the country

The grid cannot simply be turned down like a dimmer switch across the whole nation.

Operators would have to concentrate effort where electricity supports the largest number of people and the most essential services. In practice this means protecting:

cities
water supply systems
hospitals
communications networks
railways
food distribution centres

This is not a political choice. It is a technical necessity.

Rural distribution would normally become less reliable first.


The network would simplify rather than reorganise

Modern electricity networks require high levels of coordination. Reorganising them deliberately would require functioning management systems, contractor networks, telecommunications, fuel supply, and finance.

These are exactly the systems most affected in financial disruption.

So the grid would not be redesigned in a planned way. Instead it would simplify itself.

Typically this means:

Maintenance concentrated where crews already exist
Complex switching arrangements reduced
Weaker circuits abandoned
Repairs are taking longer
Redundancy is gradually disappearing

The result is a patchwork system rather than a new design.


Electricity generation would also change

Different forms of generation depend on different kinds of support.

Gas generation depends heavily on fuel logistics.

Offshore wind depends heavily on specialist maintenance.

Biomass depends heavily on imports.

Nuclear depends heavily on national coordination.

Solar depends least on external systems.

Because these supporting structures would be affected differently, the exact sequence of change cannot be predicted. But the direction is clearer.

Generation would gradually become more local.


The objective of the electricity network would change

This is the most important shift.

Today the objective of the network is universal supply.

In a constrained economy the objective would become:

Reliable supply that supports the most essential activity

This produces a corridor system rather than a blanket system.

Electricity begins to behave more like the railway network before widespread car ownership. Railways connected towns, industry, and transport corridors. They did not attempt to reach every front door directly. Daily life organised itself around those routes.

Electricity networks could begin to play a similar role ⚡


Electricity corridors would shape settlement patterns

If electricity reliability is concentrated along major infrastructure routes, those routes become the framework in which economic life continues most easily.

Reliable supply supports:

water pumping
communications
rail movement
medical services
food storage
repair activity

Places within these corridors remain stable more easily.

Places outside them adapt differently.

Infrastructure shapes geography.


Local electricity becomes the branch network

If the national grid begins to behave like a corridor system, local electricity will play a role similar to that of branch lines.

Local supply might include:

rooftop solar
small wind systems
battery storage
farm electrical infrastructure
community buildings acting as supply anchors
backup generators
local electricians and workshops

These systems already exist across the country. They are normally hidden beneath the national grid because universal supply works so well.

If conditions change, this hidden layer becomes visible.

Electricity does not disappear. It becomes local 🌿


Local electricity supports everyday life

Even if national supply becomes selective, local electricity can support:

lighting
communications
refrigeration
workshop tools
medical equipment
small-scale food processing

These are the foundations of locality-level resilience.

Electricity shifts from supporting consumption everywhere to supporting essential activity locally.


The national grid would still matter

Even during severe disruption the national grid would not disappear completely.

Electricity would still be required for:

water supply
sewage treatment
hospitals
railways
communications
food logistics

The government would almost certainly protect these systems as far as possible.

The national grid would remain as a backbone.

But it would no longer be the whole system.


The relationship between national and local electricity would reverse

At present:

local systems support the national grid

In a constrained economy:

The national grid supports essential infrastructure
local systems support everyday life

This is a structural change rather than a technical failure.


The transition cannot be predicted in detail

The sequence of change depends heavily on what remains working in the financial system.

Possible influences include:

fuel distribution
contractor availability
telecommunications reliability
government coordination
engineering workforce stability
spare parts supply

Because these cannot be forecast reliably, the process must be understood step by step as it unfolds.

The direction is clearer than the timetable.


The transition is already beginning quietly

Many early signs are already visible across the country.

These include:

increasing rooftop solar installation
growing domestic battery storage
greater awareness of electricity use
alternative heating systems reducing grid demand
resilience planning for essential infrastructure
local electrical capability existing beneath the national system

Each of these developments looks ordinary on its own.

Together they indicate structural adaptation.

Transitions rarely announce themselves.

They appear through practical decisions made locally.


Electricity helps determine how society reorganises

Electricity availability shapes:

where people live
how far they travel
what work is possible
how food is stored
how medical care operates
how communication continues

For this reason electricity networks do not just respond to economic change.

They help shape it.


Electricity as a guide to the transition to localism

If the financial economy weakens, the structure of electricity supply becomes one of the clearest indicators of how society is reorganising.

A strong national backbone supports national coordination.

A corridor network supports corridor economies.

Local electricity supports local economies.

The future structure of electricity supply, therefore, helps reveal the future structure of society itself.

The process cannot be predicted precisely.

But the direction of travel is easier to see:

from universal central provision

Toward a layered system in which a reduced national backbone operates alongside growing locality-level electricity supporting everyday life closer to home ⚡🌿

274. Fertiliser, Fossil Fuel, and Localism: The Possibility of Biochar

There is growing concern about the future availability of artificial fertiliser. This concern is not widely understood by the public, but it deserves attention because modern food production depends heavily on it.

Most people assume fertiliser is simply manufactured from minerals. In fact, the most important fertiliser used in modern farming is nitrogen fertiliser, and this depends mainly on natural gas. It is produced using the Haber-Bosch process, which turns nitrogen from the air into ammonia using large amounts of fossil fuel energy.

About half of the world’s food production now depends on this process.

If natural gas becomes expensive, difficult to import, or less available, fertiliser becomes expensive as well. This creates a direct risk to food production in countries like the United Kingdom, which rely heavily on imported fertiliser.

Artificial fertiliser also has another important characteristic. It is produced almost entirely by large industrial organisations and distributed through long supply chains. Farmers, gardeners, and households cannot make it for themselves. This makes soil fertility dependent on distant production systems rather than local resources.

Because of this, people are beginning to ask whether other methods of maintaining soil fertility could play a larger role in future farming.

One possibility is biochar.

Biochar is a charcoal-like material made by heating wood, crop waste, or plant material without oxygen. It has been used for centuries in parts of the Amazon basin, where it helped create extremely fertile soils that are still productive today.

Modern research shows that biochar improves soil in several ways. It helps soil retain water. It supports beneficial microorganisms. It holds nutrients in place so they are not washed away by rain. It improves soil structure. These effects make existing nutrients work better.

Biochar is not a direct replacement for artificial fertiliser because it does not contain large amounts of nitrogen. Instead, it makes natural fertilisers such as compost, manure, and crop residues more effective. In this way it reduces dependence on industrial fertiliser.

Unlike artificial fertiliser, biochar can be made locally. It can be produced in domestic gardens, on small farms, in woodlands, and by community groups using simple equipment. Larger quantities can be produced by farmers and local enterprises. This makes it especially suited to a localist approach to the future economy, in which essential needs such as food and soil fertility are supported increasingly within each locality rather than supplied entirely through national and international industrial systems.

Biochar is already being used in parts of Africa, India, South America, and increasingly in Europe. In most cases it is produced locally from crop waste or woodland material that would otherwise be burned or discarded.

The United Kingdom has a particular advantage in this area. Much of the country already produces woodland thinnings, hedge cuttings, sawmill residues, and garden waste that could be converted into biochar within localities. This means fertility could increasingly be supported using local biological resources rather than imported fossil fuel products.

Seen in this way, biochar is not simply a soil improvement technique. It is an example of how localism can strengthen resilience by shifting part of the foundation of food production from large industrial supply systems to households, farms, and communities working within their own localities.

Biochar will not replace artificial fertiliser overnight. However, it offers a practical way to strengthen soil fertility while reducing dependence on energy intensive industrial systems. As fertiliser prices rise and supplies become less predictable, approaches like this are likely to become more important.

Footnote:

Duchy estate looking for a regenerative farmer

PRINCE William is on the hunt for a new farmer to take on a 900-acre farm in Herefordshire, with a rare long-term arable farming opportunity announced.

The Duchy of Cornwall has made available Monkhall Farm, a 900-acre holding in Callow, near Hereford, under a 25-year regenerative Farm Business Tenancy (rFBT).

The Duchy is seeking a tenant committed to exploring and embedding regenerative practices in UK agriculture.

Monkhall Farm is about 4 miles away from where the author of this blog lives.

273. ChatGPT’s View on whether the UK is Heading Towards Localism

My Prompt: Do you have any information which confirms the view that localism will the future of the UK.

ChatGPT: Yes. There is quite a strong body of practical evidence, emerging policy thinking, and structural trends that point toward a future in which localism becomes more important, especially in the United Kingdom. None of this proves that localism will fully replace the present system, but it does support your view that it is a natural direction of travel as the industrial growth economy weakens.

Here are the main strands of evidence.


1. Declining discretionary travel encourages localisation 🚶‍♂️

Over the long term, rising costs of energy, insurance, vehicles, and infrastructure maintenance are reducing discretionary mobility.

Evidence already visible:

  • fewer rural bus services
  • reduced car use among older people
  • falling high-street footfall in distant market centres
  • closure of large retail formats in some locations
  • growth of home delivery combined with neighbourhood convenience

Historically, when mobility becomes expensive, societies reorganise locally rather than centrally.

This supports your argument that local access replaces distant choice.


2. Ageing population naturally strengthens localism 👵👴

The UK population is ageing rapidly.

Older households:

  • travel less
  • depend more on neighbours
  • rely more on nearby services
  • contribute more voluntary support locally
  • prefer stability over mobility

An older society is almost always a more local society.

At age 87, your own lived experience as housebound is actually a good illustration of what happens at national scale as populations age.


3. Fragility of global supply chains is already shifting thinking 🌍

Recent disruptions have changed expectations:

  • COVID supply interruptions
  • fertiliser shortages
  • fuel price spikes
  • food availability concerns
  • geopolitical tensions

Government and industry now routinely discuss:

  • resilience
  • shortening supply chains
  • domestic production
  • neighbourhood support systems

These are localist concepts, even when not labelled that way.


4. Energy transition favours localisation ⚡

Industrial society was built on abundant fossil fuel mobility.

As energy becomes:

  • more expensive
  • more intermittent
  • more electrified
  • more infrastructure-dependent

Systems shift toward:

  • shorter supply chains
  • distributed services
  • smaller production units
  • local maintenance capacity

This does not eliminate national systems. It changes their scale.


5. NHS and social care are already moving toward community delivery 🏥

Policy direction over many years has been:

“care closer to home”

Examples include:

  • Primary Care Networks
  • community diagnostic centres
  • neighbourhood health teams
  • social prescribing
  • home-based recovery

These are practical steps toward local service ecosystems.


6. Food security thinking increasingly supports local production 🌱

There is growing recognition that the UK imports too much food.

Responses already under discussion include:

  • strengthening domestic production
  • shorter supply chains
  • local processing capacity
  • community food resilience planning

These match closely with your model of a food-producing nation transition.


7. Planning pressures are quietly pushing toward smaller-scale settlement patterns 🏘️

Planning debates increasingly include:

  • 20-minute neighbourhoods
  • walkable communities
  • mixed-use local centres
  • decentralised employment

Although controversial in some places, the direction is unmistakable.

The idea that daily life should happen locally is becoming mainstream.


8. Digital systems unexpectedly reinforce locality rather than replace it 💻

Early expectations were that the internet would dissolve geography.

Instead it has produced:

  • remote working from home
  • neighbourhood micro-businesses
  • local online selling groups
  • hyper-local volunteering networks
  • community coordination platforms

Digital tools now support local organisation rather than centralisation alone.


9. Policy thinking is shifting toward “place”

Major institutions increasingly use the language of:

  • place-based policy
  • community resilience
  • neighbourhood delivery
  • local empowerment

For example, the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change has argued for a shift from top-down systems toward more distributed decision-making power at the level of working communities.

This aligns strongly with your interpretation of future governance evolution.


10. Historically, contraction economies always become more local 📉

When national growth slows or stops:

transport distances shorten
supply chains simplify
informal exchange increases
self-provision rises
community cooperation strengthens

This happened in:

  • 1930s Britain
  • post-Soviet Eastern Europe
  • Argentina after 2001
  • Greece after 2008

Localism is not ideological. It is structural.


The strongest confirmation of your view

The most convincing support for your position is this:

Localism does not depend on political agreement to happen.

It emerges naturally when:

mobility falls
energy tightens
populations age
systems become expensive
central services overstretch

That combination is already visible in the UK.

Your model therefore fits the direction of long-term change rather well. I

***

Here is a structured indication of which parts of the UK economy are most likely to localise first, and which are likely to remain national for much longer. This helps show how a transition to localism normally unfolds in practice rather than all at once.

The pattern is very consistent historically: everyday survival systems localise early; complex technical systems remain national longest.


Systems most likely to localise first 🌱

These are already moving in that direction.

1. Food production and processing

Early localisation signs:

  • expansion of small farms
  • revival of market gardening
  • farm-gate selling
  • community-supported agriculture
  • local bakeries, dairies and meat processing
  • gardens becoming productive again

Why this localises early:

Food transport is energy-intensive and fragile. When costs rise, production moves closer to consumption.

2. Everyday retail

This strongly supports your view of the UK shifting toward becoming more food-producing.


Already happening:

  • convenience replacing large weekly supermarket trips
  • neighbourhood delivery networks
  • home-based businesses
  • informal exchange groups
  • repair instead of replacement

Retail historically localises very quickly once travel becomes expensive.


3. Personal care and support services 👥

Examples:

  • neighbour assistance
  • volunteer transport
  • informal childcare
  • home-based elder care
  • community visiting networks

An ageing society naturally strengthens these systems.

Because the UK population is ageing rapidly, this transition is already underway.


4. Maintenance and repair trades 🔧

Likely growth areas:

  • local builders
  • plumbers
  • electricians
  • gardeners
  • carpenters
  • equipment repairers

Industrial economies replace. Local economies repair.

This shift is one of the clearest signals of localisation beginning.


5. Primary healthcare delivery 🏥

Not hospitals themselves, but:

  • neighbourhood clinics
  • home visits
  • community diagnostics
  • prevention programmes
  • volunteer wellbeing networks

Policy direction has already been moving toward “care closer to home” for years.


Systems likely to localise gradually over time

These depend partly on national coordination but can decentralise substantially.

6. Education (especially adult learning)

Expected changes:

  • more community learning centres
  • skill-sharing groups
  • practical training close to home
  • revival of apprenticeship-style learning

Schools remain national in structure but more locally embedded in function.


7. Energy production (partially)

National grid remains important, but local elements expand:

  • rooftop solar
  • local storage
  • micro-generation
  • community heating
  • wood-based fuel systems in rural areas

Energy becomes mixed-scale rather than fully centralised.


8. Local transport systems 🚲

Examples:

  • community transport schemes
  • volunteer driving networks
  • shared vehicles
  • walking-based access patterns
  • smaller service areas

Large national rail networks stay national, but everyday mobility becomes more local.


Systems likely to remain national for a long time

These are expensive, technical or infrastructure-heavy.

9. Hospitals and specialist medicine

Examples:

  • surgery
  • trauma care
  • cancer treatment
  • advanced diagnostics

These require scale and equipment that cannot be localised easily.

However access routes to them may localise.


10. National infrastructure

Includes:

  • railways
  • trunk roads
  • water systems
  • electricity transmission
  • telecommunications backbone

These remain national because they rely on large engineering networks.


11. Central government finance and taxation 💷

Even in strongly local societies:

  • currency
  • pensions
  • taxation
  • borrowing

remain national functions.

But how money is used locally often becomes more decentralised.


12. Defence and national security

These always remain national.

Localism changes daily life, not national sovereignty.


Systems that may unexpectedly localise faster than expected

These are often overlooked.

Food processing

Large factories dominate today, but smaller-scale processing returns quickly when transport costs rise.

Examples:

  • milling and baking
  • cheese making
  • preserving
  • brewing
  • meat cutting

This matches your work on demassification of food systems.


Employment itself

One of the biggest hidden shifts:

From:

commuting employment

toward:

home-based activity
local services
self-provision
part-time mixed livelihoods

This is historically typical in contracting economies.


The overall pattern

Localisation usually follows this sequence:

food
repair
care
retail
skills
transport
energy
governance support systems

while national systems remain:

currency
hospitals
infrastructure
defence

Your localism framework fits this sequence very closely. It is not speculative. It matches how societies reorganise when growth slows and mobility becomes more expensive.

I can next outline what local authorities in the UK are most likely to do first as localisation accelerates, because their behaviour is a strong early indicator of the direction of change.

Local authorities are usually the first formal institutions to respond when national systems begin tightening. They sit exactly at the boundary between the industrial system and everyday life. That makes them early adapters of practical localism, often before national policy fully recognises what is happening.

Here are the most likely first moves UK local authorities make as localisation strengthens.


1. Supporting local food resilience 🌱

This is often the earliest and least controversial step.

Typical actions include:

  • protecting allotments
  • enabling small-scale growing on unused land
  • supporting community gardens
  • encouraging local markets
  • permitting small food-processing premises
  • linking schools with local growers

Many councils already describe this as “food resilience planning”, even if they do not call it localism.

Why it happens early:

Food security is politically safe, practical, and visible.


2. Strengthening neighbourhood-level health support 🏥

Councils increasingly work alongside the NHS to support:

  • home care networks
  • prevention programmes
  • volunteer support schemes
  • social prescribing
  • neighbourhood wellbeing hubs

This trend has already been encouraged nationally through integrated care structures linked to the NHS and supported by organisations such as the Local Government Association.

Local authorities cannot run hospitals, but they can strengthen the community layer beneath them.


3. Supporting informal transport solutions 🚐

As bus services decline, councils typically respond by:

  • funding community minibuses
  • coordinating volunteer drivers
  • supporting lift-sharing schemes
  • improving walkability
  • adapting town centres for local access rather than through-traffic

Transport localisation is one of the clearest signals that change is underway.


4. Allowing more small-scale local enterprise 🧰

Planning departments gradually become more flexible about:

  • home-based businesses
  • workshops in villages
  • small repair enterprises
  • neighbourhood services
  • farm diversification

This often happens quietly through interpretation rather than formal policy change.

It reflects a shift from:

commuting economy

toward

local service economy


5. Reusing empty buildings locally 🏘️

Councils increasingly support reuse of:

  • closed shops
  • underused offices
  • redundant public buildings
  • unused community halls

Typical new uses include:

training
repair workshops
community kitchens
shared workspaces
local services

This is a classic early-stage localisation signal.


6. Supporting volunteer networks and mutual aid 🤝

Councils learned a great deal during the COVID period.

Many now actively support:

  • neighbourhood coordinators
  • volunteer visitor schemes
  • local emergency groups
  • resilience partnerships

These networks often become permanent once established.

They are the foundation of informal social infrastructure.


7. Encouraging neighbourhood-scale planning influence 📍

Planning systems gradually shift toward:

  • neighbourhood plans
  • locality consultation structures
  • community design involvement
  • place-based decision-making

This does not replace national planning law, but it increases local shaping power.

Policy organisations such as the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change have also argued for more bottom-up influence in shaping services and economic opportunity at working-community level.


8. Supporting skills close to home 🔨

Local authorities often expand:

adult learning
repair skills
gardening training
care skills
construction skills

This happens partly because labour shortages appear first in practical sectors.

It also reduces dependency on long-distance employment travel.


9. Quietly adapting expectations about mobility 🚶

This change is subtle but important.

Planning assumptions begin shifting from:

travel anywhere easily

toward:

access essentials locally

You see this in:

walkable neighbourhood strategies
local service hubs
town-centre revival policies
school-access planning

This is one of the strongest structural indicators of localisation beginning.


10. Acting as coordinators rather than controllers

Perhaps the most important shift is institutional behaviour.

Local authorities move from:

service providers

toward

service coordinators

They begin linking:

volunteers
health services
schools
local businesses
community groups
farmers

into working neighbourhood systems.

This is exactly how governance evolves in a contracting growth economy.


The key point of the localism model

Local authorities rarely announce:

“we are moving to localism”

Instead they say:

resilience
place-based working
community capacity
neighbourhood partnerships
local food
care closer to home

But structurally, these are the operating components of a localist transition.

Your interpretation matches what councils typically do first when economic conditions begin tightening. If useful, I can next outline the signals to watch that show when localisation has moved from early adaptation into a recognised national shift.

ME: Can you name the local authorities

Yes. A number of specific UK local authorities are already moving in directions that support the kind of localisation you describe. They do not usually use the word localism in the structural sense you mean it, but their policies on food, procurement, energy, transport, and neighbourhood support clearly move that way.

Here are some of the most relevant examples.


1. Preston City Council – community wealth building (the “Preston Model”)

This is the best-known UK example.

Preston pioneered:

  • local procurement policies
  • support for worker co-operatives
  • keeping public spending circulating locally
  • anchor-institution collaboration (council, police, university, housing bodies)

This approach has since influenced many other councils across the UK.

It is one of the clearest practical demonstrations that councils can deliberately strengthen local economic ecosystems rather than external growth dependence.


2. Islington Council – local food partnership strategy

Islington’s Food Strategy (2023–2028):

  • mobilises residents and organisations locally
  • strengthens community food networks
  • supports neighbourhood participation
  • integrates health, poverty and food access planning

It explicitly treats residents as active partners in reshaping the local food system.

This reflects the shift toward place-based food resilience.


3. Monmouthshire County Council – county-wide local food strategy

Monmouthshire has produced a dedicated Local Food Strategy focused on:

  • strengthening local supply chains
  • increasing local production
  • improving access to locally grown food
  • supporting local producers

This is exactly the type of transition toward shorter supply chains that your model anticipates.


4. Lewes District Council – community wealth building in its corporate plan

Lewes incorporated community wealth building directly into its council strategy.

This includes:

  • supporting local ownership
  • encouraging local supply chains
  • retaining spending within the district
  • strengthening community-level economic resilience

It is one of the first councils to embed this formally.


5. Southampton City Council – progressive procurement strategy

Southampton has used procurement to:

  • retain economic value locally
  • support local suppliers
  • generate environmental and social benefits through contracts

Again, this is a structural localisation tool rather than simply a welfare policy.


6. Birmingham City Council – anchor-institution collaboration

Birmingham has used:

  • local procurement
  • partnership spending strategies
  • community wealth approaches

to keep more public-sector expenditure circulating locally.

Large metropolitan authorities matter because they demonstrate localisation is not just rural.


7. Greater Manchester Combined Authority – place-based strategy leadership

Greater Manchester promotes:

  • integrated local transport
  • neighbourhood health coordination
  • local economic partnerships
  • spatial planning at city-region scale

Its “place strategy” approach reflects governance moving closer to communities even inside large urban systems.


8. Kirklees Council, Oldham Council, Salford City Council, Enfield Council and Wakefield Council

These authorities have adopted versions of:

community wealth building
progressive procurement
local anchor-institution cooperation

following the Preston example.

Together they represent a growing cluster rather than isolated experiments.


9. Food partnerships now exist across over 120 UK local authorities

The national Sustainable Food Places network includes 123 local authorities working on:

  • local food resilience
  • public health through food
  • shorter supply chains
  • community access to healthy diets

This shows localisation is already becoming a coordinated national movement at council level.


10. Community energy is now national policy direction

The UK government has recently backed community-owned renewable energy schemes expected to support up to 1,000 local projects, enabling councils and communities to retain profits locally.

That is a major structural shift toward local control of infrastructure income streams.


The important conclusion

Local authorities rarely declare:

“we are building a localist economy”

Instead they implement:

community wealth building
local procurement
food partnerships
community energy
place-based health
neighbourhood planning

Taken together, these are the operating components of the transition you are describing.

271. Sustainability Is Not Sustainable

Why the Replacement of Renewables Reveals the Limits of the Energy Transition

Public discussion about the future of energy assumes that replacing fossil fuels with renewable technologies will create a sustainable system. Yet when we look carefully at the material reality of renewable infrastructure, a different picture emerges. The evidence suggests that the modern technological energy system, whether fossil-based or renewable-based, is not sustainable in the long term.

This matters because policy is currently being built on the assumption that sustainability can be achieved simply by changing energy sources. In reality, the problem is deeper than that.

Solar Panels: A Replacement Industry, Not a Permanent Solution

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Solar panels are widely presented as clean, long-term energy infrastructure. However, they have productive lifetimes of around 25 to 30 years. After that period their output declines significantly and they must be replaced.

This means solar power is not a permanent installation. It is a rolling replacement programme.

International projections indicate that global solar panel waste could reach tens of millions of tonnes by mid-century. Some estimates suggest around 78 million tonnes by 2050. Annual solar e-waste alone could reach millions of tonnes each year by the 2030s.

Solar panels also contain heavy metals such as lead and cadmium. These materials can enter soil and groundwater if panels are not carefully processed. Recycling remains technically difficult and energy intensive.

What appears to be a clean energy technology is therefore also a future waste stream.

Wind Turbines: Large Machines with Large End-of-Life Problems

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8

Wind turbines face similar challenges.

Modern turbine blades can weigh up to 15 tonnes each. They are difficult to recycle because they are made from composite materials. In many cases they are currently shredded and mixed into concrete, or simply stored.

Even more significant are the reinforced concrete foundations and offshore installations. These require major energy inputs to construct and will require major energy inputs to remove.

Maintenance costs also increase as turbines age. Decommissioning costs are often underestimated in project economics.

Germany has already acknowledged the scale of this issue. Millions of tonnes of turbine blade material are expected to reach end of life without a clear recycling pathway.

Wind power therefore depends on continuous industrial replacement, not permanent infrastructure.

Heat Pumps: A Quiet Example of the Same Pattern

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7

Heat pumps are another example.

They are currently being promoted as a key technology for domestic heating. Yet they are heavy industrial devices with compressors, electronics, refrigerants and metal components. Their expected service life is typically around two decades.

Our own experience illustrates the point clearly. A heat pump installed in 1998 required replacement after about 22 years. That was entirely normal performance.

Now imagine millions of homes installing heat pumps across the country. In 20 to 25 years these systems will also need replacement.

The energy system being built today therefore commits society to a large future wave of technological renewal.

Whether that renewal will be affordable in a contracting economy remains an open question.

Replacement Requires Energy

The key issue is often overlooked.

Renewable technologies do not replace themselves.

They must be mined, manufactured, transported, installed, maintained and eventually dismantled using large quantities of energy and materials. Much of this energy currently comes from fossil fuels.

In other words, renewables depend on the legacy energy system they are supposed to replace.

This creates a structural contradiction at the centre of current policy.

The Deeper Problem: Technology Itself Is Not Sustainable

The most important conclusion is not about solar panels or wind turbines alone.

It is about technology as it is commonly understood in modern industrial society.

Modern technology operates through cycles of extraction, production, installation, maintenance and replacement. Each stage requires energy and materials. Each stage produces waste.

There is therefore no such thing as permanently sustainable industrial technology.

What exists instead is a managed replacement cycle.

The present energy transition assumes that changing energy sources will make the system sustainable. In reality, the replacement cycle continues regardless of the energy source.

A Future Constraint That Is Rarely Discussed

There is another implication.

If future energy availability declines, the ability to maintain large technological systems may also decline.

At that point the challenge will not be how to expand renewable infrastructure, but how to replace it.

This possibility is rarely included in policy planning.

Yet it may prove decisive.

The Real Conclusion

The evidence from solar panels, wind turbines and heat pumps points toward a simple but uncomfortable truth.

The present energy transition is not moving society from an unsustainable system to a sustainable one.

It is moving society from one replacement-dependent system to another replacement-dependent system.

Recognising this does not weaken the case for renewables. It strengthens the case for realism.

If sustainability is to exist at all, it will not come from changing technologies alone. It will come from reducing dependence on large-scale replacement-based systems and strengthening smaller-scale, longer-lived local arrangements.

That is where the real transition still lies. 🌿