I was struck by this post but even more so by the comment from one of its correspondents
Part of the issue is that many nonfiction books feel overextended now. A great 5,000-word idea gets stretched into 250 pages because that’s what publishing economics rewards. At the other extreme, Twitter/X is usually too fragmented and performative to provide the kind of sustained mental stimulation I actually crave, which is probably why I use it less than I once did.
Substack essays hit a surprisingly good middle ground. A strong essay often contains more intellectual density per minute than the average nonfiction book. In my youth I used to joke that the average person wasn’t as interesting as the average book. Now I’m tempted to say that the average book is not as interesting as the average Substack.
So why do I insist on “reading” so many books? – if that is the right verb for the
flicking I normally do to books. Obviously I hope to learn something from them
– but I have been disappointed so many times, I should know better by now.
But still I persevere.. why? Seven Myths about Democracy J Moeller and SE Skaaning (2026). Looks an interesting read Nietzsche, the Aristocratic Rebel – intellectual biography and critical balance-sheet
ed Domenico Losurdo (2020) I’ve always wanted to know more about the guy The Revolt of the Public and the Crisis of Authority in the New Millennium Martin Gurri (2018)
My thesis is a simple one. We are caught between an old world which is decreasingly able to sustain us intellectually and spiritually, maybe even materially, and a new world that has not yet been born. Given the character of the forces of change, we may be stuck for decades in this ungainly posture. You who are young today may not live to see its resolution.
Famous landmarks of the old regime, like the daily newspaper and the political party, have begun to disintegrate under the pressure of this slow motion collision. Many features we prized about the old world are also threatened: for example, liberal democracy and economic stability. Some of them will emerge permanently distorted by the stress. Others will just disappear. Many attributes of the new dispensation, like a vastly larger sphere for public discussion, may also warp or break from the immoveable resistance of the established order. In this war of the worlds, my concern is that we not end up with the worst of all possible worlds. Each side in the struggle has a standard-bearer: authority for the old industrial scheme that has dominated globally for a century and a half, the public for the uncertain dispensation striving to become manifest. The two protagonists share little in common, other than humanity—and each probably doubts the humanity of the other.
My thesis, again, is a simple one. The information technologies of the twenty first century have enabled the public, composed of amateurs, people from nowhere, to break the power of the political hierarchies of the industrial age. The result hasn’t been a completed revolution in the manner of 1789 and 1917, or utter collapse as in 1991, but more like the prolonged period of instability that preceded the settlement of Westphalia in 1648. Neither side can wipe out the other. A resolution, when it comes, may well defy the terms of the struggle. None is remotely visible as I write these lines. If my thesis is true, we have entered a historical period of revolutionary change that cannot achieve consummation. Institutions are drained of trust and legitimacy, but survive in a zombie-like state. Governments get toppled or voted out, but are replaced by their mirror images. Hierarchies are brought low, but refuse to yield the illusion of top-down control. Hence the worship of the heroic past, the psychology of decadence—the sense, so remarkable in a time of radical impermanence, that there’s nothing new under the sun.
The Technocratic International – experts and the making of a world from nowhere
Jan Eijking (2026) reviewed here Global Warming – a very short introduction Mark Maslin (2004)
I’m a great fan of these short Intros – even if this one is 177 pages! The Pursuit of Equallty in the West Aldo Schiavone (2022) One of the books which
deserves the crit in the first post The Return of Political Patronage? How special advisers are taking the place of civil
servants and why we should worry about it Alasdair Palmer (2015)
A suitably short (at 96 pages!) pamphlet Hothouse Earth Bill McGuire (2022)afterword If you have made it this far, I suspect you may either be seething
at what you perceive to be gratuitous alarmism or biting your nails with worry. To those who feel that what I have had to say is alarmist, I say this: in the sense of drawing attention to how bad things can get as the planet continues to heat up, I am certainly raising the alarm, and I don’t
apologise for this. But alarmist? No. There is no exaggeration of the
dangers here, no hyperbole. All the material included and addressed in this book is rooted in hard science, underpinned by meticulous observation and careful modelling. Raising the alarm, in our current circumstances,
is a good thing. It fits with the precautionary principle and also with the idea
that we need to really know our enemy – in this case global heating
– and how well it is armed, if we want to defeat it.
My view is that, currently, most members of the public, and indeed most
world leaders, simply do not. The fact that the word ‘cake’ was mentioned ten times more than ‘climate change’ on UK television in 2020 says it all about how true appreciation of the nature and scale of the climate emergency has yet to break through. The truth is, playing down the potential worst effects of global heating and climate breakdown is far worse than raising the alarm and amounts to what I like to call climate appeasement. It does nothing to help spur the urgent action that is required, and by underplaying the climate threat it works – intentionally or not – to encourage a grudging and cautionary approach to emissions cuts that we can no longer afford. On the other hand, if you have been worried or frightened by
what you have read, that’s good, you should be, especially on behalf
of your children and their children. But don’t let fear feed inertia. Fear does not have to be paralysing. Indeed, it is often the driver of effective action. No one ever won a war while knowing no fear, and make no mistake, this is a war. Wherever we live on this magnificent planet, we all need to do our utmost to try to keep it that way. The fact that the future looks dismal is not an excuse to do nothing, to imagine it’s all too late. On the contrary, it is a call to arms. So, if you feel the need to glue yourself to a motorway or blockade an oil refinery, then do it. In his book How to Blow Up a Pipeline, Andreas Malm argues convincingly that, such is the scale of the climate crisis, sabotage and property damage are absolutely justified in the battle against fossil fuel companies and others working against the public good. I understand that this is not to everyone’s
taste, but there is plenty more you can do. Drive an electric car or
, even better, use public transport, walk or cycle; stop flying;
switch to a green energy tariff; eat less meat; spread the word
about the predicament we find ourselves in among your friends
and family; lobby your elected representatives at both local and
national level; and use your vote wisely to put in power a
government that walks the talk on the climate emergency. The problem is, though, even the greenest administration is not entirely free to ensure that the right measures are in place to kick global heating into the long grass. Within a political–economic system predicated upon competition and profit rather than the greater good, it is always going to be challenging and problematical – even with the best will in the world – to bring down emissions rapidly enough to avoid the most severe impacts of global heating. Many high-profile activists argue, then, that what’s needed to tackle the climate emergency effectively is system change, and they are absolutely right. Our climate is being destroyed by unadulterated,
free-market capitalism –an ideology that simply cannot be sustained
on a small planet with limited resources. It is a system that has no i
interest in the greater good and that rewards inordinate capital
and the few that have it, rather than the majority who don’t.
It cares nothing for the environment or biodiversity and doesn’t give
a fig about the fate of future generations. In fact, it is exactly the
wrong economic system to have in place at a time of global crisis.
The bankruptcy of the system is especially well upheld in the
grossly asymmetric partitioning of carbon emissions between the
rich elite and everyone else. One quick way of making a serious
dent in emissions would be to take away what seems to be a free
pass to pollute from the richest 1 per cent, who were responsible
for 13 per cent of emissions in 2013. By 2030, this tiny elite is
predicted to pump out 16 per cent of global emissions,
70 tonnes of carbon a year per person, when each of the poorest
50 per cent of the world’s population – those who will bear the
brunt of climate breakdown – are responsible for one measly tonne.
For comparison, each UK citizen emitted 8.4 tonnes of carbon
dioxide in 2021. Looked at individually, the annual carbon footprints
of some of the world’s mega-rich are staggering, uplifted to
extraordinary levels –nearly 34,000 tonnes in one case – by their monstrous playthings: fleets of high-performance cars, homes on every continent, private jumbo jets, super-yachts and the like. Emblematic of an economic system that is not fit for the
purpose of transforming our society to one that matches the size
of our world and its resources is the new rich person’s toy –
the spaceship. Weighing in at around 75 tonnes,
the emissions expelled by a ten-minute flight on Branson’s
Virgin Galactic rocket are equivalent to an entire lifetime’s emissions
of one of the poorest billion people on Earth. At the height of a planetary emergency, this is plain wrong. The measure of the maturity of any society must be how well it looks after the needs of every one of its people, and how it cares for the planet and all life thereon, by which metric we are little more than toddlers flailing about aimlessly in the dark. This will continue to be the case until the penny finally drops that we will never see off global heating without embracing a new way of doing things, which has nothing to do with the number of super-rich we can launch into space. There needs to be a sea change in the way economic success is measured, so that the accumulation of wealth is subordinated to how little carbon we emit or how much we manage to soak up. Currently, the success of a national economy is measured in terms of its gross domestic product (GDP), which, in turn, is based purely upon the country’s wealth. Other considerations, such as the health and wellbeing of the population, inequalities between the rich and poor, environmental issues and success in bringing down carbon emissions, form no part of it. Although not perfect, one way of changing this to
help tackle the climate and ecological emergency – which has
been flagged by enlightened economists for some time – would be
via a switch to a so-called quality adjusted GDP metric.
Under this metric, good things, such as carbon-reduction measures,
are rewarded, while bad stuff, for example, those products or services l
inked to high emissions or which are environmentally damaging,
are marked down. A GDP metric that operated along these lines
would benefit everyone by linking the money in people’s pockets
to national and global indicators of progress on emissions reductions
and ecological improvements. Transitioning to such a system would
not be easy, but it can be done provided the will is there.
Without it, making serious inroads into the dangerous and growing
levels of carbon in the atmosphere is likely to be all but impossible.
At the time I wrote this, on the last day of 2021, the UK was basking in record-shattering late December warmth, with the temperature climbing to 16.5°C in Bala, north Wales. A few days ago, on the other side of the world, the mercury touched 19.4°C in Alaska, compared to an average December daily mean temperature of around zero. In some of the Italian ski resorts it is too warm – at an extraordinary 15°C – for even artificial snow. Meanwhile, high up in the Colorado Rockies, unheard-of winter wildfires in the past 48 hours have destroyed more than 900 buildings and forced thousands from their homes. As I tie up loose ends in March 2022, eastern Australia has just experienced record rainfall, driving some of the worst ever flooding across the region, while more than 700 wildfires are raging across Texas. In Eastern Europe, meanwhile, the continuing conflict in Ukraine provides a tiny foretaste of the migration problems and commodity shortages to come, as climate breakdown ramps up. For many, as we head further into 2022, it is already a different world out there. Soon it will be unrecognisable to every one of us. We may no longer
be able to give dangerous climate breakdown the slip, but we still have
the means to fend off a climate cataclysm that may threaten the very
survival of human civilisation. In the decades since the first UN COP
Climate Change Conference in 1995, we have used up an entire bale
in prevarication and inertia, so all we are left to clutch at is the last straw.
We cannot fail to grasp it.