Sunday, 18 March 2007

Transitional Transportation


Many folks have touted electric vehicles and bio-diesel as clean alternatives to fossil fuel based transportation and I have more than a passing interest in the subject, yet there was always a niggling doubt about their eco credentials.
Let me state up front that I'm a big fan of backyard bio-diesel as using a waste resource appeals to the scavenger in me, but there are only so many fish and chip shops around and true waste oil is a limited resource
Commercial bio-diesel was comprehensively debunked by George Monbiot last year and the Toyota Prius outdoes the Hummer in environmental damage, neither is morally or environmentally acceptable in the long term or as a transitional technology

I understand and accept that the personal car has a limited use-by date but what of those areas with no public transport, how do small towns and remote communities cope with an oil embargo or similar shock? My guess would be localised adaptations using local resources and the one resource that most areas can count on is woody bio-mass.

Wood gas powered over a million cars, trucks, buses and trains during and immediately after world war two when fuel was severely rationed and can do so again. I'm not advocating it for "business as usual" but I do see it as a useful and doable response to a petroleum emergency as it
A- uses biomass from marginal landscapes and so does not compete with food for our arable land
B- can be built by any competent workshop using scrap gas cylinders
C- can be adapted to any motorised transport so that it
D- uses existing rolling stock instead of using more resources

I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is and will post more on this in the near future

Monday, 5 March 2007

Interesting Times Ahead

Global stock markets have begun to decline this past week yet the biggest economic news of recent times has yet to hit the mainstream, Saudi Arabian oil output has declined by eight percent in the last year, despite a massive increase in their hiring of oil rigs. They are drilling as fast as they can but output is falling.

Indonesia is now a net oil importer and Australia wont be far behind, Russia, Venezuela and Iran are past peak, Mexico's Cantarell field is declining at 15%, Nigeria and Iraq are so unstable they are untouchable and the North Sea fields are crashing.

Peak oil is no longer a theory and an economic depression is a certainty, get out of debt and downsize your lifestyle while the economy is still functioning

See also
The Oil Drum
Clusterfuck Nation

Friday, 2 March 2007

The Failure of Reason

Climate change and excessive resource consumption can be placed at the feet of an economic system that relies on exponential growth, yet business and political leaders dare not say its name as to do so would be political suicide; is it not economic growth that funds our pension plans, stock portfolios and welfare systems, what sort of fool could question that?

How do you change a system that has this inherent flaw as its very foundation? How do we expose the myth of sustainable growth and replace it with a mythology that our grandchildren can live with and live by?

John Michael Greer has posted an outstanding essay that pulls together some of the many disparate thoughts that have been rattling around my head these last several years, let me know what you think of it.


The Failure of Reason
by John Michael Greer
Around once a month, since I first started this blog, I get plans in the mail for saving the world. I don't mean this last phrase derisively; the plans come from people who are deeply concerned about the consequences of peak oil, global warming, and other manifestations of the predicament of industrial society, and set out to find a solution. Many of them are extremely well crafted and, if put into place, would accomplish much. Every one of them, even the loopiest, would likely have better results than the industrial world's current policy of sleepwalking toward the abyss.

The most recent example arrived a couple of days ago, courtesy of Tom Wayburn, a Texas engineer and a reader of this blog; you'll find his plan online at http://www.dematerialism.net and http://dematerialism.blogspot.com. He's far from alone in his efforts.
M. King Hubbert himself proposed a scheme of social and economic reorganization to deal with peak oil back in the 1970s; you can find it at http://www.energybulletin.net/3800.html. These two are only a drop in the oil bucket, of course. Go looking for peak oil solutions online or in bookstores and you can find them by the dozen.

The best publicized of them, and indeed one of the best in practical terms, is the oil depletion protocol originally crafted by the Hydrocarbon Depletion Study Group at the University of Uppsala in Sweden. Richard Heinberg's latest book The Oil Depletion Protocol does a fine job of explaining the protocol and showing how it could manage the transition to a sustainable society. It's an extremely well thought out plan, and if implemented, would almost certainly make the coming of the deindustrial age a good deal less ugly than it will otherwise be. The only criticism it merits is that its chances of actually being put into effect make a snowball in hell look like a safe investment.

Unfortunately, the same sort of criticism can be leveled at the entire genre of peak oil solutions, from Tom Wayburn's project to such highly publicized plans as the oil depletion protocol or the one presented in Lester Brown's much-discussed book Plan B. There has never been a shortage of good ideas for dealing with peak oil or, for that matter, any other aspect of the predicament of industrial society. What has been lacking consistently is the collective will to put any of those ideas into practice.

It bears noticing that between 1956, when Hubbert originally announced the approach of peak oil, and the present moment, a remarkable paradox has unfolded. On the one hand, the evidence for the imminence and catastrophic potential of peak oil has grown steadily more convincing.
On the other hand, the prospect that any constructive response to peak oil will actually be implemented has grown steadily more distant.
Despite occasional bursts of lip service, every major political party in every major nation in the industrial world supports pro-growth economic policies that move the world further away from a transition to sustainability with each passing day, and the more imminent and obvious the dangers become, the more stubbornly the world's political and economic systems cling to exactly the policies that guarantee the worst possible outcome in the not very long run.

Now a good part of this astonishing failure of will and vision can be traced to familiar factors. Many peak oil authors have talked about the way that today's political and economic systems have perpetual growth hardwired into them, and malfunction or break down completely when the rate of growth even starts to approach zero. Many of them, myself among them, have also discussed the way that people's ability to weigh benefits against risks breaks down just as spectacularly when the benefits are immediate and the risks lie somewhere in the indefinite future. Still, there's more to the issue than this. The same underground realm of mythic narratives and magical symbols I've been trying to explore in recent posts has a major role in setting the stage for the paradox just outlined.

The crux of the matter, I suggest, is that attempts to change the course of industrial civilization without changing the narratives and symbols that guide it on its way are doomed to failure, and those narratives and symbols cannot be changed effectively with the toolkit that peak oil advocates have used up to this point. Behind this specific technical problem lies a much vaster predicament – the failure of the Enlightenment project of rebuilding human civilization on the foundations of reason.

The Enlightenment, for those of my readers who received an American public school education – which in matters of history, at least, amounts to no real education at all – was an 18th century movement of European thought that laid most of the intellectual foundations of the modern world. The leading lights of the movement argued that the transformation that Galileo, Newton, and their peers accomplished in the sciences needed to happen in the realms of social, political, and economic life as well. To them, the traditional ideologies that framed European society in their time amounted to one vast festering mass of medieval superstition that belonged in the compost heap of history.
Voltaire's famous outburst against the Catholic church – Ecrasez l'infame! ("Chuck the wretched thing!") – gave voice to a generation's revulsion against a worldview that in their minds had become all too closely bound to bigotry and autocracy.

Mind you, there was quite a bit of truth to the charge. The upperclasses of 18th century Europe had been as strongly affected by the scientific revolution's disenchantment of the world as anyone else, and in their hands, traditional ways of thinking that once wove a bond of common interest among people of different classes turned into abstractions veiling brutal injustice. Like so many social critics, though, the thinkers of the Enlightenment combined a clear if one-sided view of the problem with unworkably Utopian proposals for its solution. They argued that once superstition was dethroned and public education became universal, rational self-interest and dispassionate scientific analysis would take charge, leading society progressively toward ever better social conditions.

If this sounds familiar, it should. The ideology of the Enlightenment swept all before it, forcing even the most diehard reactionaries to phrase their dissent in the terms of an argument the Enlightenment itself defined, and it remains the common currency of social, economic, and political thought in the Western world to this day. One of its consequences is exactly the habit of producing rational plans for social improvement that spawned the torrent of peak oil solutions we're discussing in this post. Since Voltaire's time, the idea that building a better social mousetrap will cause the world to beat a path to one's door has pervaded our civilization.

The irony, of course, is that neither in Voltaire's time nor in ours has social change actually happened that way. The triumph of the Enlightenment itself did not happen because the social ideas circulated by its proponents were that much better than those of their rivals; it happened because the core mythic narrative of the Enlightenment proved to be more emotionally powerful than its rivals.
That narrative, of course, is the myth of progress, the core element of the worldview that has made, and now threatens to destroy, the modern world.

This irony defines a faultline running through the middle of the modern mind. On the one hand, our economists treat human beings are rational actors making choices to maximize their own economic benefit.
On the other hand, the same companies that hire those economists also pay for advertising campaigns that use the raw materials of myth and magic to encourage people to act against their own best interests, whether it's a matter of buying overpriced fizzy sugar water or the much more serious matter of continuing to support the unthinking pursuit of business as usual in the teeth of approaching disaster. The language of rational self-interest and dispassionate scientific analysis is itself part of a mythic narrative of the sort it attempts to dismiss from serious consideration.

The crux of the problem, as suggested in an earlier post in this blog, is that human thought is mythic by its very nature. We think with myths, as inevitably as we see with eyes and eat with mouths. Thus any attempt to bring about significant social change must start from the mythic level, with an emotionally powerful and symbolically meaningful narrative, or it will go nowhere. The founders of the Enlightenment recognized this, and accomplished one of the great intellectual revolutions of history by harnessing the power of myth in the service of their project. The very nature of their legacy, though, has made it much harder for others to recognize the role of myth in social change.

Thus it's not accidental that the great storytellers of recent history, the figures who catalyzed massive changes by the creative use of myth, have mostly come from the fringes of the Western cultural mainstream. Two examples are particularly worth citing here. Mohandas Gandhi, who broke the grip of the British Empire on India by retelling the myth of European colonialism so powerfully that even the colonial powers fell under the spell of his story, drew on his own Third World culture as well as his Western education to pose a challenge to the reigning narratives of the West that they had no way to counter. On the other side of the scale, but no less powerfully, Adolf Hitler came out of the crawlspaces of Vienna's urban underclass with a corrupted version of Central European occult traditions, and turned them into a myth that mesmerized an entire nation and plunged the planet into the most catastrophic war in its history. In rational terms, the story of either man's achievements seems preposterous – another measure of the limits of reason, and its failure to plumb the depths of human motivation.

If something constructive is to be done about peak oil and the rest of the predicament of industrial society, in other words, yet another round of reasonable plans will not do the trick. The powers that must be harnessed are those of myth, magic, and the irrational. What remains to be seen is whether these will be harnessed by a new Gandhi...or a new Hitler.

Thursday, 1 March 2007

Vale Thorpie















I wandered over to the Westernport Hotel on Sunday to see Thorpie and get a blast from the past, turns out that it was his last gig. To say that he was a major musical influence would be an understatement
I hitch hiked to Sunbury as a naive 15 year old and was blown away by the sheer energy and volume of the Aztecs, my ears were ringing for weeks afterwards, caught his act many times over the years and he was the consummate showman, always ready to smile and say g'day and always giving 100%. I'm gunna miss the bugger.


Via http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,21303997-5012549,00.html

ALAN Howe writes:
In 1969, Billy Thorpe saw the future of rock'n'roll, it was him. He'd had a similar vision six years earlier. Just a teenager, he moved from Brisbane to Sydney where he saw a group called the Aztecs, whose latest surf instrumental was limping around the lower reaches of the charts. Billy told the Aztecs they needed a singer, helpfully, he added, he was that singer. If they argued with him, it was the last time anybody did, certainly no one was arguing by the end of 1969.

In August that year Thorpe set off for Melbourne with Dave McTaggert on bass and Jimmy Thompson on drums (Aztecs would come and go - 23 men can claim to have been an Aztec). Thorpe thought he would do a few low-key gigs before heading off to London, as bands did back then, but once here, he picked up an incendiary guitarist called Lobby Loyde and turned up at the Village Green pub on Springvale Rd.

Back then, your mum and dad went to the pub - young people attended Bertie's, Sebastian's, Maze and the Thumpin' Tum. These were unlicensed venues with back lanes that were nonetheless strewn with wine bottles whose labels read Sparkling Rhinegold, Stone's Green Ginger and Porphyry Pearl. A lot was about to change and unquestionably the architect of that change was Billy Thorpe.

The Village Green was soon packed with young people drinking beer and listening to the Aztecs, other pubs - the Croxton Park and the Matthew Flinders - soon caught on with any number of blues-based rock bands taking the stage. There was Spectrum, Chain, the Wild Cherries, One Ton Gypsy, Carson and Company Caine. It was called pub rock and it exploded across the suburbs.

Sydney bands came down to get in on the act: Tully, Fraternity, Tamam Shud and Kahvas Jute, then they came from everywhere, even New Zealanders caught the bug.
Victoria's licensing laws were changed to accommodate the phenomenon, pubs could stay open until 11pm and then midnight, but only if meals were served, these arrived on small plastic plates and consisted of a handful of cold chips and a fish finger or two. At least that's what they looked like.

And although his sets consisted of healthy servings of US covers - C C Rider, Good Mornin' Little Schoolgirl, Jenny, Jenny and Ooh Poo Pa Doo - Thorpe helped turn the local music scene away from a crippling acceptance that we were inferior.

He had been part of that problem himself in the early 1960s. Most people first heard of Thorpe when the Aztecs' Poison Ivy knocked the Beatles' Can't Buy Me Love off the number one spot in the charts - impertinently doing so as the Fab Four toured Australia, Poison Ivy was on the new Rolling Stones' EP and getting in early with copies of US and UK hits was a way of life for Australian bands, but by 1970 Billy Thorpe - while regularly playing the songs of others - brought a cocky Australian attitude to performing.

Some progressive bands dressed like characters out of Alice in Wonderland, taking their cue from the Kinks and the Sgt Pepper's cover, "Thorpie", as he had become known by then, dressed like us, even if he did have a ponytail snaking its way halfway down his back. He swore on stage, like we did at the bar. And he made a racket like . . . absolutely no one else. With amps turned up to 11 long before Spinal Tap, Billy Thorpe was so loud it hurt, he loved it loud, so did Lobby Loyde, told after one set that punters in the four first rows had their fingers in their ears, Loyde smiled with surprise: "Really? That's great!"

The Aztecs saw it as a patriotic duty to play louder than anyone else, and longer: Thorpe's final reworking of Ooh Poo Pa Doo clocked in at 18 minutes. Thorpe was certainly brave - a risk taker with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, he recorded 1970's The Hoax is Over live in the studio, nobody did that, not that many Australian acts recorded albums at all. And it only had four tracks, was he mad?

The whole thing came to a head with Thorpe's legendary Sunbury performances over the Australia Day weekends of the early '70s, in 1972, an entirely Australian bill was topped by a band we called our own - unthinkable just three years earlier, and in the previous six months Spectrum, Daddy Cool and Russell Morris had topped the charts with songs they wrote themselves. Australian music had come of age.

Thorpe outgrew Australia, went to live in the US, and recorded some adventurous albums, Children of the Sun grazing the Billboard top 20 in 1979. Back in Australia in 1994 and with a three-CD "best of" to promote, I asked Michael Gudinski whether Thorpe would be up for a competition in which a Sunday Herald Sun reader would win a backyard performance by the reforming Aztecs, more than 10,000 readers wanted Billy in their back yard. We telephoned the winner, Susan, with the news, remarkably, 30 years earlier, she had been one of Thorpe's go-go dancers. She and 150 of her friends gathered at her house in Gardenvale as Thorpe and his Aztecs loudly announced they were back. They had just finished the first song, C C Rider, when the police turned up, it was just like the old days.
At the end of the show, amid thunderous applause, Thorpe walked back to the microphone: "I might do this for a living," he said.

Thorpe changed music, he changed Australians' perceptions of themselves, and he even changed licensing laws.

Most people I know thought he was great.

See also
http://www.thorpie.com/