Too Much Magic: Wishful Thinking, Technology, and the Fate of the Nation

Too Much Magic: Wishful Thinking, Technology, and the Fate of the Nation

by James Howard Kunstler
Too Much Magic: Wishful Thinking, Technology, and the Fate of the Nation

Too Much Magic: Wishful Thinking, Technology, and the Fate of the Nation

by James Howard Kunstler

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Overview

The author of The Long Emergency explains why technology can’t solve all our problems, and how excessive optimism can endanger our future.
 
The Long Emergency quickly became a grassroots hit, offering a shocking vision of our post-oil future and capturing the attention of environmentalists and business leaders alike. As discussion about our dependence on fossil fuels and our dysfunctional financial and government institutions continues, the author returns with Too Much Magic—evaluating what has changed and what has not, and what direction we need to take in this post-financial-crisis world.
 
“Too much magic” is what James Howard Kunstler sees in the bright utopian visions of the future dreamed up by optimistic souls who believe technology will solve all our problems. Their visions remind him of the flying cars and robot maids that were the dominant images of the future in the 1950s. Kunstler’s image of the future is much more sober. With vision, clarity of thought, and a pragmatic worldview, Kunstler argues that the time for magical thinking and hoping for miracles is over—and the time to begin preparing for the long emergency has begun.
 
“A sharp critic of energy-sucking, big-box landscapes.” —Winnipeg Free Press

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780802194381
Publisher: Grove/Atlantic, Inc.
Publication date: 09/01/2018
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 336
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

James Howard Kunstler was born in New York City in 1948. He is the author of two non-fiction books, The Geography of Nowhere and Home from Nowhere, and eight previous novels including The Halloween Ball and An Embarrassment of Riches. He has been a regular contributor to the New York Times Sunday Magazine and Op-Ed page, where he has written on environmental and economic issues.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Where We're At

"He went broke slowly, and then all at once."

— Ernest Hemingway

The episode in human history that I named in my 2005 book The Long Emergency is off to a good start. The cavalcade of fiascos within that shape-shifting monster we call the economy and its overgrown subsidiary capital finance is getting so bad as I write that by the time you read this an even more profound crisis than the crash of 2008 may be resetting the fundamental terms of your everyday life. Perhaps you are hungry tonight, with poor prospects for securing a meal.

We've blown past the defining mileposts for global peak oil — 2005 for conventional crude and 2008 if you include natural gas liquids, tar sand byproducts, coal-based distillates, esoteric syncrudes, and other such stuff. In 2008 we had a nice demonstration of extreme volatility in the oil markets (predicted in The Long Emergency) with the price of crude zooming up to $147 a barrel and then crashing a few months later near $32. We're not so sure of ourselves these days. The British Petroleum company's 2010 Macondo well blowout in the Gulf of Mexico tempered the public's zest for risky deepwater drilling projects. Oil is back in the $100 range. The Fukushima nuclear meltdown in the following year sobered up many nations about the prospects for the only well-developed alternative energy method capable of powering whole cities. Whether you believe in climate change or not, or contest that it's man-made or is not, the weather is looking a little strange. In 2011 tornados of colossal scale tore through the American South, hurricane-induced five-hundred-year floods shredded Vermont, and Texas was so drought-stricken that Texans wondered if ranching there would even be possible in the years ahead. People have begun to notice a number of signals that reality is beaming out.

Whenever I venture out to the campuses and professional conferences people ask me, What's your time frame for this long emergency? I tell them we've entered the zone. It amazes me that that there is any question. Who can fail to notice all the obvious trouble our country is in? The middle class is dissolving. Americans have lost jobs they may never get back, in occupations that may cease to exist. They are getting tossed out of their houses at a rate never seen before. Government is broke at all levels, along with households and corporations. Foreign nations have gone bankrupt. Despite the mighty exertions of the U.S. Federal Reserve money is scarce, especially for loans, the lack of which is killing any enterprise that depends on revolving credit (meaning just about all enterprise). Times are hard and look like they will get a whole lot harder soon. Nothing is getting fixed, despite the pretenses of government. The public is ticked off, gathering up into political factions that did not exist in 2005, while the traditional Democrats and Republicans spiral into paralysis, irrelevance, and, perhaps most dangerous of all, loss of legitimacy. Wall Street and many other public places are being occupied by protesters, a different breed than those of yesteryear, hardened by economic calamity, battered in war, and low on idealism.

The most conspicuous feature of these times is our inability to construct a coherent consensus about what is happening to us and what we're going to do about it. Extremes in thinking and a vacuum in the middle where fact and reason used to dwell lately characterize the national state of mind. Conspiracy theories have gone mainstream — the New World Order, the Bilderbergs, the global elite, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Trilateral Commission, Freemasonry! This is the same paranoid ideology I first encountered at John Birch Society conventions I covered in the 1970s as a young newspaper reporter (with an affinity for the loony). It was a belief system relegated then to the margins, and deservedly. Today, people who appear to function normally in daily life fret over chem trails in the sky and the suspicion that Vice President Dick Cheney orchestrated the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center. Some of this apocalyptic occultism is pretty elaborate, and probably requires some brains to traffic with, but that's doubly dispiriting because it means even informed people can lose track of reality. In such a cultural milieu it becomes difficult to scope out where stupidity ends and craziness takes over.

Wishful thinking is another symptom of our impaired consensus. I've encountered appalling displays of wishful groupthink in unlikely places around the United States. For two years running I was invited to the Aspen Environmental Forum. When the oil issue came up there, the chatter was all about how America was going to solve its motor fuel problem by "coming up with" a range of ingenious new ways for running automobile engines by other means than gasoline — electricity, natural gas, petro-algae excretions, compressed air. Apart from the unlikelihood that any of these systems might feasibly keep the national car and truck fleets running another decade at the current scale, note the Aspen group's basic assumption: that car dependency is perfectly okay, as long as you can find another way besides oil to run the vehicles. At the center of that strain of wishful thinking was the Rocky Mountain Institute and its founding chief, Amory Lovins, whose advanced econometric models managed to completely overlook their own diminishing returns, a mode of thinking that is one of the recurring themes in this book. Lovins's organization had been engaged for years on a "hypercar" project aimed at developing a vehicle that would get supernaturally high gas mileage, based on a belief that efficiency is a virtuous end in itself, and that somehow this virtuous efficiency would mitigate the many environmental problems stemming from the excessive burning of fossil fuels. The unintended consequence would be ... more efficient car dependency! And continuing, increasing car dependency and, therefore, the continuing elaboration of suburban sprawl for car dependency to exist within. In short, the hypercar project was insane. It beat a path straight to Jevons paradox, the proposition that greater technological efficiencies achieved in using a given resource tend to increase the rate of its consumption. The diminishing returns were obvious.

What it revealed about the Aspen cohort was how invested they were in the status quo of Happy Motoring. They wanted to solve the problems of COemissions, air pollution, and climate change without having to make behavioral changes. There was no talk whatsoever at the Environmental Forum about other strategies for dealing with the manifold predicaments of burning oil in cars — for instance, walkable neighborhoods or restoring the national passenger railroad system and other kinds of public transit. They were not interested, or these things had not occurred to them, so single-minded was their pursuit of techno-grandiose "solutions" for propping up the familiar comforts of daily life. The cream of America's green intellectuals convene at the Aspen Environmental Forum; if they can't think straight about this part of the problem to whom do you turn? NASCAR fans? Wall Street? Glenn Beck? The Mafia?

I encountered a similar odd groupthink when I was invited to give a talk on our energy quandary at the Google company's headquarters in Silicon Valley. First, stepping back a moment, I couldn't help noticing that the company's building itself was tricked out like a giant kindergarten or day-care center. The public areas were furnished with all manner of parlor games: Ping-Pong tables, knock hockey, billiards, video game consoles. Here and there were stacks of Lucite boxes and bins filled with Gummi bears, yogurt-covered pretzels, and similar junk snacks. Not a few of the Google employees who came into the elegant new auditorium were dressed like teenaged skateboard rats in low-hanging ass-crack pants and sideways hats, and these were executives, senior programmers! After I gave my talk on the energy situation, some time had been reserved for questions and answers. There were no questions, only statements from several Googlers, and they all pretty much said the same thing, which might be summed up as Like, dude, we've got technology ... (Subtext: You're an asshole.)

This informed me of something pretty scary: the executives and programmers at Google didn't know the difference between technology and energy. They assumed that these were interchangeable, that if you run out of one you just plug in the other, which is inconsistent with reality. Note that these were the top people in the leading high-tech corporate enterprise in the United States. If they don't know the difference between technology and energy, what might we expect of the salary mules in the U.S. Department of Transportation, or in ten thousand other offices in the land where people have to make decisions about how we live?

This encounter with delusional groupthink especially troubled my mind. As I reflected on it, though, I arrived at a possible explanation. In the age of the computer revolution, tech companies are valued for being playfully creative, thus the playtime incunabula deployed all around the Google headquarters, the games and the sugary snacks and also the childlike costumes worn by the executives and programmers. We're childlike, therefore we're creative, therefore our company is that much more valuable, therefore see our share price go up. The childlike thinking at Google was a logical extension of this corporate culture: the belief in magic, in this case the magic of high tech. A lot of the high-level employees I spoke to in the auditorium that day were people who had become millionaires before they had turned thirty (thanks to Google stock), mainly by pushing pixels around a screen with a mouse, that is, by making computer magic. They had magically become rich by making magic. Naturally, then, they were true believers in tech magic, and also, by extension, believers in the idea that any problem facing the human race could be fixed by applying tech magic.

This techno grandiosity (or techno triumphalism or techno narcissism) is one of the main impediments to thinking straight about the problems of the long emergency, which will also be a recurring theme in this book. There are other mental constructs that present obstacles to clear thinking about what is happening to us and what we can do about it. One is the belief that when you wish upon a star your dreams come true. I have previously labeled this the Jiminy Cricket syndrome — from the Walt Disney feature film cartoon Pinocchio. It gets additional reinforcement from the incessant programming of the advertising industry and also from factions within the psychological self-help movement, which have led people to believe that visualizing an outcome is likely to produce that outcome, that is, Wishing makes it so!

A companion to that idea is the belief that it is possible to get something for nothing. It is probably inherent in human nature that we're susceptible to this form of magical thinking, since we're always looking for shortcuts, bargains, for ways to minimize and even avoid the price we have to pay to get things in life. In Western culture, it took the full force of the Protestant ethic to override this tendency, and after a few hundred years that override seems to be wearing off. The something-for-nothing wish manifests in advertising tropes such as miracle diets and especially in the widespread legalization after 1970 of gambling, an industry firmly based on the wish for acquiring unearned riches, the most popular form of the something-for-nothing theme.

When you combine these two beliefs — when you wish upon a star ... you'll get something for nothing! — you end up with a toxic psychology, which, I submit, has become baseline normal for the American public lately. It was exactly this magical thinking that came to infect the realm of capital finance and has so far come close to destroying it.

As I have traveled around America since 2005, with the public mood growing increasingly anxious over oil prices, Wall Street swindles, and a sputtering economy, I constantly heard a cry for solutions at every stop. This was partly an expression of anxiety over difficult problems, and just as often a form of censorious scolding aimed at bearers of bad news (me). "Give us solutions, not doom and gloom!" was the gist of a complaint I heard at every conference or college campus. I sensed that there was something not quite right with this complaint, partly because I was presenting all sorts of ideas for addressing the long emergency and my audiences seemed to be blocking them out. After a while I began to understand what lay behind this plea for "solutions." They were clamoring desperately for rescue remedies that would allow them to continue living exactly the way they were used to living, with all the accustomed comforts ranging from endless driving to universal air-conditioning, cheap fast food, reliable electric service, NASCAR, Disney World, Walmart, and good jobs with a guaranteed comfortable retirement. They didn't want to hear anything that suggested we might have to make other arrangements for everyday life in this country.

I certainly understand that people want to feel hopeful about their situation in this world, as well as their fear of losing what is familiar and comfortable. But I don't believe we can get through this long emergency without making other arrangements for a lot of the common activities of everyday life, or without giving up some familiar comforts and habits. When I hear people yelling for "solutions," I recognize that they are looking for ways to sustain the unsustainable. That's why I propose we begin by making a clear distinction between "solutions" and "intelligent responses" to the changing circumstances we face.

I don't believe there are any solutions that will allow our current economic arrangements to continue exactly as they are. But I do believe there are plenty of intelligent responses that will lead us in different directions toward different behavior and new ideas in new arrangements. I also believe that these new conditions will contain much that is familiar and even welcoming to us. They will derive from our own culture and national character as well as our regional and ethnic backgrounds. They are likely to put us back in touch with elements of human experience that we thoughtlessly discarded in our heedless rush toward a chimerical techno nirvana — working together with people we know, spending time with friends and loved ones, sharing food with people we love, and enacting the other ceremonies of daily and seasonal life in story and song.

Mismanaging Contraction

One could as well say decline or collapse but we're not quite there yet. For now, I'll refer to the defining condition of these times as contraction. We've reached certain limits of planetary resources: of oil and natural gas, of uranium, of many common metal ores, of clean fresh water, of good soil, and most particularly the ability to pay for things with borrowed money. Much as we would like to think that there are alternative energy resources, or technological tricks for prestidigitating some equivalent, and perhaps other ways of getting at those vital minerals — mining the moon has been promoted, surely a symptom of techno grandiosity — it's more likely that we will not come up with any combination of alternative energy substances or systems that can replace the fabulous versatility and power density of the fossil fuels, nor is it likely that we will discover vast new deposits of first-rate ores, rare earths, or the phosphorus so indispensable for the kind of agriculture we practice. Peak oil is only part of a package of resource shortages that Richard Heinberg has correctly identified as "peak everything" — though oil is the primary resource of our economy.

At the same time, we've achieved a global human population of about 7 billion as of this writing. Peak human population will surely lag behind peak oil and peak mineral resources until these conditions express themselves as food shortages. This means that the human population will continue to rise for a while, even as we begin to encounter these very strict resource limits. It's not possible to estimate how much the population will increase because the relationship between energy and mineral resources and food production is a very fragile equation, subject to any number of discontinuities. To these, add the complications of weather disasters arising from climate change, including drought, the spread of plant diseases, and so forth. This lagging further rise in human population will only make the inevitable contraction more acute, once food shortages begin. Anyway, 7 billion already amounts to a human population overshoot in relation to the planet earth's ecology. We're putting a strain on everything the earth has to offer us. While the combination of peak stuff and 7 billion humans is forcing the issue, I think the truth is that circumstances will now determine what happens, not policies or personalities.

(Continues…)


Excerpted from "Too Much Magic"
by .
Copyright © 2012 James Howard Kunstler.
Excerpted by permission of Grove Atlantic, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

1. Where We're At,
2. Farewell to the Drive-in Utopia,
3. Cities of the Future: Yesterday's Tomorrow or Tomorrow's Yesterday?,
4. The Dangers of Techno Narcissism, or: Frankenstein Release 2.0, How Ray Kurzweil's Singularity Aims to Replace the Old God with a New and Improved Version,
5. The Futility of Party Politics in the Long Emergency,
6. Going Broke the Hard Way: The End of Wall Street,
7. The Energy Specter: Oil and Gas, Alternative Energy, and Waiting for Santa Claus,
8. Insults to the Planet and the Planet's Reply,
9. Social Relations and the Dilemmas of Difference,
Coda: A Systematic Misunderstanding of Reality,

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