Peak Everything (23 page)

One of the early pioneers in the study of disasters, Samuel Prince (whose work was published in the early 1920s), was convinced that disasters inevitably bring social change.
²
Subsequent work has tended to confirm Prince's conclusions; however, the examples cited by Prince and Aptekar are of non-industrial societies that responded to trauma by exhibiting more of the characteristics of industrial cultures. This is not likely to be so frequent a response if the mass trauma consists of a partial or complete collapse of industrialism. Sociologist Max Weber wrote that disasters tend to produce charismatic leaders, an observation that has been confirmed in various cultural settings.
³
This is a social phenomenon
that could indeed be extrapolated to the circumstances we can anticipate.

Patterns of reaction in already industrialized societies are somewhat different from those in non-industrial ones. In many instances, impacts are minimized because of the almost immediate availability of elaborate aid and support systems. Yet disaster researcher Benjamin McLuckie hypothesized (in 1977) that “the higher the society's level of technological development, the more vulnerable it would be.”
⁴
That is because people in industrialized countries live in major population centers and rely on sophisticated technologies, increasing their vulnerability to a large-scale collapse of interlocking systems of transportation, communication, water supply, and food distribution.

Responses to human-made disasters are again different: According to Aptekar, victims of these often show
more
stress than victims of natural disasters because of the perceived need to find parties to blame. Whatever the eventual circumstances resulting from Peak Oil and Climate Change, it seems probable that groups in differing geographical areas, and in differing economic conditions, will react in dissimilar ways. In the case of a breakdown of communication and control, those who are more dependent on high tech will likely suffer much more than those who are still somewhat accustomed to locally filling their own basic needs. Over the short term, we are likely to see acts of extraordinary heroism alongside extreme examples of opportunism and stupidity.

But what if the trauma continues for years or decades? To what degree is a persistent, universal disaster (such as the collapse of a society) different from the examples Aptekar cited? In the former case, given enough time, might there indeed be panic and looting, and general flight from the sites of greatest hardship? Aptekar does not offer discussion or examples in this regard; for these we might better look to clues from books like Peter Heather's
The Fall of the Roman Empire,
which discusses, for example, how population levels, especially in Rome itself, fell dramatically, job specialization declined, and famines became more common and severe.

In her essay “Ecological Collapse, Trauma Theory, and Permaculture,” Peak Oil activist Lisa Rayner surveys other relevant
literature and draws conclusions directly relevant to the present discussion, quoting frequently from Judith Herman's
Trauma and Recovery.
Other relevant books include Chellis Glendinning's
My Name Is Chellis and I'm in Recovery from Western Civilization
and Benjamin Colodzin's
How to Survive Trauma: A Program for War Veterans and Survivors of Rape, Assault, Abuse or Environmental Disasters.

Rayner notes that “classic” PTSD refers to responses to an acute life-threatening experience, such as a rape or a severe car accident. However, many people with symptoms of the disorder have not experienced an immediately life-threatening event, but instead have undergone an accumulation of milder stressors. Herman calls this condition “Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” while other researchers refer to it as “Prolonged Duress Stress Disorder (PDSD).”

Rayner points out, “When whole communities suffer from trauma, people develop a kind of mass-PTSD at the social level that makes it very difficult to heal. Alcoholism, domestic violence and other problems become rampant. Conflicts between groups become intractable.” She also notes that “psychological research shows that it is nearly impossible to heal from past trauma if one is presently in a traumatic situation. For example, a battered wife cannot heal from the effects of child abuse until she gathers the strength to leave her marriage.”

In cases where the original trauma is long past, the most important aspect of treatment seems to be the recollection and emotional processing of the event. A therapist or therapeutic community is often helpful in this regard. Rayner says, “Trauma survivors learn to make some sort of meaning out of their experiences, to take useful lessons about life away from what is otherwise a hopeless and degrading situation.” She quotes Herman's important observation that “recovery can take place only within the context of relationships.”
⁵

All of this suggests that those with psychological training may play as important a role in our collective adaptation to Peak Oil and Climate Change as energy experts and permaculturists. The former should perhaps be gearing up to treat not only individuals but whole communities.

In his January 2006 State of the Union address, George Bush famously observed that “America is addicted to oil.” This was news to no one, but the phrase struck a nerve: it got more ink in the press the next day than anything else in his speech, and it is still frequently quoted.

Following Bush's statement, more than one commentator advocated the development of a twelve-step program to rid America of its addiction to petroleum. The original twelve-step program of Alcoholics Anonymous was religion-based, so it might not be directly useful to an entire modern semi-secular society. But two of the steps could well apply:

In what other ways can the addiction metaphor be helpful? In his article “Is Our Collective Oil Dependence an Addiction?”, Peak Oil activist Rob Hopkins concluded that dependency is a better metaphor than addiction in the current instance.
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Hopkins cites the WHO diagnostic definition of dependency, which says that “three or more of the following manifestations should have occurred together for at least one month or, if persisting for periods of less than one month, should have occurred together repeatedly within a 12-month period”:

Hopkins examines our societal dependence on oil in terms of each of these criteria and makes the case that each applies.

If we accept that the metaphor does have value and that society is, in some sense, clinically dependent upon a damaging substance (oil), what implications does this have for public policy?

Let us suppose that we genuinely wished to end our dependency on some other damaging substance, such as heroin. How would we go about doing this? One method might be to surround ourselves with methadone, cigarettes, beer, coffee, and chewing gum — that is, with other addictive or habit-forming substances — and then hope that our dependency on heroin somehow transferred itself to one or more of these. The strategy would probably not work well; the more likely outcome would be at least one
added
dependency.

Let us translate this thought exercise to our oil dependency. Might we end it simply by developing new supplies of alternative fuels such as ethanol and biodiesel, or liquids from coal and natural gas? If the analogy holds, the result is likely to be not an actual
reduction
in oil consumption but merely an
added
dependency on these alternatives. And indeed this is exactly what we see in most
cases: it is difficult to find an instance in which any nation has substantially decreased its existing oil consumption as a result of the development of alternative fuels. In nearly every case alternatives serve merely to reduce
the rate of growth
in demand for oil. It doesn't hurt, but neither does it address the core problem.

For the typical heroin user, a reduction in consumption can only be accomplished by dealing head-on with the dependency. Other habit-forming substances only serve as crutches after the fact. Similarly, the only way any modern nation like the US is likely to accomplish President Bush's desire to “wean ourselves off of petroleum” and thus end its dependence on oil is to deliberately and systematically reduce production and/or imports. This, of course, is precisely the aim and consequence of the Oil Depletion Protocol, the subject of my previous book.

Psychology has its non-therapeutic, even mercenary uses, which have not gone unnoticed by various armies and intelligence services, nor by corporate marketeers. The former, in the old USSR, Nazi Germany, and China, as well as the US, developed several psychologically devastating techniques for interrogation and brain-washing. Recent revelations about interrogation techniques employed by American soldiers and CIA agents at the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq show that such methods are still being refined and applied. Publicly released records of psychological experiments by CIA scientists go back at least to the 1950s; techniques include the administration of hallucinogenic drugs, sleep deprivation, long-term pain infliction, and humiliation, among others.

The advertising and public relations industries have used psychology to less overtly cruel but equally manipulative ends. Their efforts to develop methods for shaping tastes and opinions, and changing mass behavior, date back to the early decades of the last century. The story of one individual, Edward Bernays (1891-1995), is worth relating very briefly in this regard. Bernays literally wrote the book on
Propaganda
(the title of his 1928
magnum opus
), and his achievements were admired and imitated by Goebbels. Bernays was, as he never tired of pointing out, Sigmund Freud's nephew, and he energetically adapted his uncle's findings — along with those of Ivan Pavlov — to the seemingly mundane purposes of selling products and making companies look good. Bernays's clients included General Motors, Procter & Gamble, CBS, the American Tobacco Company, and General Electric. He is today commonly regarded as one of the pioneers of the modern public relations industry, but contemporary political strategists like Karl Rove also owe him a debt of gratitude.

Sigmund Freud.

While the efforts of Bernays and his heirs have highly questionable value for enhancing the survival potential of our species, if humanity is to adapt successfully and proactively to the twin threats of Peak Oil and climate chaos then mass behavior change will be needed. The public's strenuous efforts will have to be enlisted. Some knowledge of psychology could be used, not to extract information or sell merchandise and political candidates, but to help the populace understand its plight and adapt its behavior to post-hydrocarbon existence.

A relatively new field known as social marketing is directly relevant to our needs and purposes in this regard; its goal is mass behavior change that is in the public's own interest. Perhaps the best introduction to the subject is the book
Fostering Sustainable Behavior
by Doug MacKenzie-Mohr and William Smith.
⁸
A few of its relevant findings are worth mentioning.

According to MacKenzie-Mohr and Smith, information by itself rarely is sufficient to inspire people to change their behavior. In the present context, that means that just telling the world about Peak
Oil or Climate Change will not immediately cause millions or billions of people to replace their cars with bicycles. In order to be motivated, most people need to see new behavior modeled by others whom they admire or respect. They respond better to messages from community members — neighbors — than those from distant experts. The first task of people wishing to foster new sustainable behaviors, according to the authors, must be to identify barriers to those behaviors (perhaps through focus groups or other research), and to find practical, acceptable ways to circumvent them.