Could the West handle true austerity?
Deprived of his stimulants, forced into a situation of compulsory cold-turkey, he would be furious that his bread and circuses have been taken away from him.
Ever since American political theorist Francis Fukuyama penned his infamous and laughably inaccurate ‘End of History’ book, the Western world has been struck by numerous crises that have sparked periods of political turmoil which have challenged the strength and legitimacy of liberal democracy.
Utopia doesn’t exist, and the prosperous and allegedly free Western world has faced its fair share of obstacles: from the financial crash of 2008 that led to what economists term ‘the great recession’, to the migrant crisis of the mid 2010s along with the increasing occurrence of Islamist terror attacks since the Twin Towers came crashing down. The cost-of-living crisis, largely caused by two years of global lockdowns slamming the breaks on an internationalised economy which the West depends on, is just another link in this never-ending chain. A storm which will come to pass, but how will the proud citizens of the West fare when the cruel waves beat against the ship?
Life will get more difficult for sure, with soaring costs of petroleum and utilities further eating into household budgets, coupled with the price of grain hitting the ceiling due to a lack of supply caused by the war in Ukraine. For many, it will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back; the National Institute of Economic and Social Research forecast that another 250,000 households will soon ‘slide into destitution’. Many families already have to make the awful decision on whether to heat their home or feed their bellies.
The cost-of-living crisis will no doubt dominate the news headlines and the nightmares of politicians and concerned citizens alike for many moons to come, and yet, it does not signal a civilisation destroying Chicxulub-like disaster. Nevertheless, this makes me wonder how the people of the West would react to a true supply chain crisis – one that is far more vicious than this current variant.
A return to the three-day working week of the 1970s, complete with frequent power outages and fuel shortages, would cripple the men of today far more than the men who lived then. The world has only become more glued to technology and its army of gadgets, as well as having developed an unhealthy addiction to the wide range of intoxicating stimulants that proliferate our streets and inner sanctums.
Prices getting more expensive is one tragedy, but goods and services becoming completely unavailable is a real spammer in the works. Tesco’s petrol may be 162pence a litre, but not being able to acquire this black gold entirely makes working from home a necessity for the white-collar bearer and threatens a manual labourer’s entire livelihood. Entire retail parks and commuter towns/cities will have to be put on life support, and don’t count on the railway system being competent enough to pick up the slack.
Consider also electricity. If the nation experiences daily blackouts (if the lights come on at all), then it is not just the oven and the microwave which can’t be brought to life, but our modern entertainment systems will face severe disruptions. During these many dark hours, the consumption of video games and Netflix will have to cease. Of course, many can retreat to their mobile phones as a temporary solution. Even so, these devices could also be impacted by a shortage of precious metals, often mined far away in the third world, like palladium and gold.
Valuable resources are frequently weaponised against nation states, and who knows what will happen when China has finished swallowing Africa, where these materials are often harvested. The West, not above playing dirty, is also currently flexing its muscles in the financial services department to attack Russia.
What about food supplies? Could the rugged, mentally sound, stoic citizens of the West follow in the footsteps of Venezuela by embarking on the ‘Maduro diet’, where the average Venezuelan lost nearly two stone in weight during the country’s food crisis? The factions of our fast-food empire may face an acute shortage of ingredients to such an extent that they can’t supply their menu to customers. This is bad for business but will spell disaster for anyone hooked on their products. Our supermarket shelves would also lie bare, with chronic panic buying and Soviet-style street queues lining up for milk and eggs becoming a part of daily life. The Haribo’s and the Mars bars will fall far down the list of priorities, and our present day snacking culture may turn up on the extinct species list.
As such a calamity has not afflicted the Western world of the twenty-first century (yet), we can only speculate what the reaction may be. It is easier to understand the political consequences. A population, starving and isolated, would most likely take to the streets in their millions. Would there be a Communist revolution? A Fascist revolution? Whatever the finale, the build-up to it won’t be pretty; an atomised and balkanised world is further susceptible to political extremism.
But we must also partially recognise the psychological makeup and raison d’etre of modern man. Deprived of his stimulants, forced into a situation of compulsory cold-turkey, he would be furious that his bread and circuses have been taken away from him. A sizeable portion of his anger would be directed towards the disruption of his personal entertainment routine, for how can a world, without purpose and metaphysical values, even stand the sight of this landscape? Over twenty-five per cent of adults in England are classified as obese, so does this sound like a universe that would be willing to tighten its belt and wait for the hard times to cease, or be quicker to demand that radical action be taken to solve the current state of affairs? Would they openly call for emergency powers? To answer these questions, we will have to wait for a storm.