And discover the American President and their Administration are not the Overlords of the Universe:
Then there is the weather. It is only May, but already China has warned that its winter wheat crop could be the “worst in history” due to heavy rains, the US winter crop has been affected by drought, there have been floods in Australia and South Africa, and extreme heat in India, Pakistan and most recently Spain.
There is no doubt that global heating is making such extreme weather events more common. According to the UK Met Office, for instance, climate change has made record-breaking heatwaves in north-west India and Pakistan more than 100 times more likely. [“Global food crisis is leaving millions hungry, but there are solutions,” Michael Le Page, NewScientist (28 May 2022, paywall)]
In other words, food prices will remain high for at least another year. People will scream for relief and blame Biden, when the problem is weather and the loudest hidden problem that the American public never seems to notice in connection with what we call inflation:
This makes Russia’s invasion of Ukraine a double whammy. It is leading to direct shortages, because Ukraine produces, among other things, 9 per cent of global wheat exports and 40 per cent of sunflower oil exports. The invasion is also causing global energy prices to rise further, which will push up food prices indirectly.
And Russia’s blockade of Ukraine’s Black Sea ports adds to the problem in a world where humanity’s transportation capabilities has transformed food supplies from local-only to fungible status – which means disruption in one part of the world can impact nations thousands of miles away.
And banning Russian exports cuts both ways:
Even if no more extreme weather events hit yields this year, there is another crucial factor at play: high fertiliser prices. Fertiliser prices started rising in 2020 along with fossil fuel prices, and have gone up even further because Russia and Belarus are major exporters. They now cost three or four times as much as they did before the pandemic.
Long-time readers are well aware of my belief that we’re badly overpopulated. Is this the beginning of some sort of population adjustment, if I may indulge in a droll euphemism for mass death?
No, I don’t think so. I suspect humanity’s cleverness will see us through this mess, and a few others as well. Efforts to minimize the overuse of fertilizer, already under way, will be driven harder by the higher fertilizer prices. Genetic engineering to produce more food stuffs from fewer inputs will become more acceptable as people discover empty bellies are not compatible with today’s lifestyles – that is, European opposition to genetically modified organisms (GMOs) will fade, much to the consternation of the leaders of anti-GMO organizations, who will find their positions and prestige threatened.
But, at some point, a crisis will precipitate some sort of adjustment. It’s barely possible we’ll employ the Roman interim solution, which was to find more land: discovery of and mass transportation to an inhabitable, empty planet.
But I won’t have fantasies about it. Moving to Mars is not a solution. The Roman implementation, land via victorious warfare, seems improbable today. And the Dutch solution, recovering land from the ocean, is a slow process and inhibited by rising ocean levels. Other ideas?
But the ongoing and singular focus on packing the sardine can with more sardines is disconcerting and real, as population adjustment is not acceptable to most people – and rightly so. We evolved in a context lacking medical capabilities, and therefore offspring production reflects the reality, in the past, of pre-maturity high mortality rates. This has also lead to the adoration of life, without which humanity might have been extinguished. And while, yes, more education leads generally to a lower birthrate, numerous institutions, primarily of the religious class, oppose lower birthrates, because, of course, a smaller group reduces the prestige and influence of the group, from the leader on down.
I queasily look forward to the future, and hope to be proven wrong.
