The Eternal City's Energy Dilemma: A Microcosm of Global Challenges
I'm sitting on a weathered stone bench in Rome, the Colosseum looming before me like a monumental reminder of civilizations past. As tourists snap selfies, I find my thoughts drifting to the invisible forces that once held this empire together – and those that bind our own society today.
The Romans called their city "eternal," yet here I sit among its ruins. It's a poignant reminder that even the mightiest empires can fall, their once-unassailable foundations eroded not just by time and circumstance, but by the collapse of the very ideas that gave them strength. As I watch the sunlight play across the ancient stones, I can't help but draw parallels to our own civilization, built not on marble and concrete, but on the seemingly inexhaustible power of fossil fuels.
Back in 2016, I used to lead workshops for corporate executives. Our goal? To map out the future and create desirable scenarios in which we wanted to live. We'd gather in sleek conference rooms, armed with sticky notes, markers, and an unshakeable optimism about our ability to shape the world ahead.
I remember one particular workshop in 2015. We had C-suite executives from a major tech company, all eager to envision the next decade. I felt pride as we pinned our grand visions to the wall - sustainable energy, AI-driven efficiencies, global cooperation. We were the architects of tomorrow, weren't we?
God, how naive we were.
Looking back now, I can't help but laugh at our hubris. We had no idea what was coming. No amount of sticky notes could have prepared us for the pandemic, the acceleration of climate change, the geopolitical upheavals, or the energy crises that were just around the corner.
As I sit here, surrounded by the echoes of a fallen empire, I'm struck by the parallels between ancient Rome and our modern world. Just as the Roman emperors desperately clung to the sacred meme of their divinity, we too have our sacred ideas – democracy, endless growth, technological salvation. But like the gold that once flowed from Spain's mines to fuel Rome's might, our lifeblood – cheap oil – is running dry.
Despite all the green energy hype, fossil fuels still provide about 85% of our primary energy — unchanged from fifty years ago. The difference? We can't ramp up extraction like we used to. Great for the planet, not so much for our fossil-fuel-addicted civilization.
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Here's the rub: our global economy runs on cheap oil. It's the lifeblood of mining, agriculture, and transportation. More than that, it's the master resource enabling all other resource production. From food to metals, solar panels to wind turbines — all rely on oil-powered machinery and processes fueled by coal or natural gas (which, surprise, also need oil to extract).
The Romans couldn't create gold that wasn't there, and we can't conjure oil from empty wells. The shale revolution, our own attempt at divine intervention, was just a brief reprieve. Now, like Emperor Valerian facing the Persian army, we stand on the precipice of a new reality.
In 2018, we hit the high-water mark for crude oil production at 83,611 barrels per day on average. We might inch past that figure, especially if we keep playing fast and loose with our definition of "oil." But even these pumped-up numbers have an expiration date. We're looking at maybe a decade before reality crashes the party and those figures start their inevitable nosedive.
The writing's on the wall, folks. We've been living in a fool's paradise, lulled into complacency by technological band-aids and creative bookkeeping. But the truth remains: our oil-addicted world is on a collision course with a reality check, and it's coming sooner than we'd like to admit.
As I gaze at the Colosseum, I wonder: will future tourists (2050) walk among the ruins of our skyscrapers and data centers, marveling at the short-sightedness of a civilization that believed it could grow indefinitely on a finite planet? What new memes, what new sacred ideas will rise from the ashes of our spent resources and crumbling institutions?
The sun is setting now, casting long shadows across the ancient forum. In the gathering twilight, I'm reminded of Seneca's words: "Increases are of sluggish growth, but the way to ruin is rapid." As we face our own Seneca Cliff, I can't help but hope that somewhere, in the margins of our society, a new idea is taking root – one that might just save us from ourselves.
But why? Can't we just throw money at exploration and tech to extract the remaining oil, environmental concerns be damned? And how come we're facing a potential halving of production in just two decades, when it took over 50 years to see a comparable increase from 1970s levels? The million-dollar question: why is growth so slow, yet decline so swift? The answers, as you might guess, are complex. Let's break down the factors at play.
Energy cost of oil extraction is skyrocketing. In 1970, we reinvested 3% of oil's energy into extraction. Now? 15.5%. By 2050, a whopping 50%. This energy cliff is the Seneca effect's prime mover. Translation: by 2050, we'll have a mere 27.5 million barrels of net energy from oil, down from today's 85 million. That's a 5-6% annual nosedive starting 2030. Remember: 90% of transport/agriculture/mining still runs on oil.
New oil discoveries? Pathetic. We're finding 11 billion barrels yearly, guzzling 30 billion. 2022-2023? A measly 5 billion discovered. Big fields are history, and what's left is energy-intensive to find. Old fields are depleting faster, new ones are smaller. The later we push peak production, the steeper the fall.
Mining costs? Also ballooning. As rich deposits vanish, we're digging deeper for less. More rock moved, more diesel burned, for the same output. Even if we miraculously switched to solar-powered mining, we'd still be chasing our tail.
Tech complexity is an energy hog. Each innovation layer demands more resources, more energy. Look at chip manufacturing – from simple beginnings to continent-spanning supply chains and giga-fabs devouring metropolis-level electricity. (I recommend this book at the moment https://www.amazon.com/Material-World/dp/0753559161)
AI? An energy glutton. It's not just the chips – think gigawatt-scale data centers. Google's carbon emissions? Up 48% in five years. AI queries? Ten times the energy of traditional searches.
"Renewables" aren't a silver bullet. Grid overhauls, compensating for intermittency – it all adds complexity and energy demand. Above certain thresholds, their value plummets without massive infrastructure investments.
Climate change is an energy multiplier. More AC, more concrete and steel for repairs and defense against extreme weather. It's a vicious cycle.
Jevons paradox: efficiency breeds consumption. As tech becomes more accessible, global energy use skyrockets – the opposite of conservation.
The Global South is revving up. Billions joining the high-consumption club, offsetting the West's deindustrialization... for now.
Nature's rule? Maximize power or perish. Systems that harness more energy win. For nations, it's industrialize or be colonized. We'll squeeze every drop until depletion, climate catastrophe, or war stops us.
Geopolitics? A wild card. Wars, embargoes, blockades – all potential supply shockers. But barring nuclear war, these are just temporary blips on the radar.
As the last light fades from the Roman sky, I'm left with a sobering realization. We face a coming peak in absolute oil production, not just because oil is becoming too cheap to invest in, but simultaneously too expensive to keep our debt-laden global economy humming along. It's a paradox that would have baffled even the cleverest Roman economist.
Civilizations, I've come to understand, are complex adaptive systems. They're governed not just by the whims of rulers or the beliefs of the masses, but by the inexorable laws of thermodynamics, the availability of energy and materials, and our environment's tolerance for pollution. Our economy, viewed through this lens, is nothing but a machine designed to extract all the energy it can, converting it into a mountain of stuff, waste heat, and pollution. Whether we recycle some of the materials used in this process matters surprisingly little: recycling itself depends on the availability and quality of energy, which—in its current form at least—is subject to rapid depletion.
As I stand up from my stone perch, brushing off centuries of dust, I'm struck by how difficult it is to predict the future. Estimating these inputs and outputs is no easy task. Trying to pinpoint when and how fast the accelerating phase of decline will arrive is as futile as predicting the weather five years from now. Everything is in motion, each part affecting the other in some complex dance of cause and effect.
But one thing is certain: there is no equilibrium when it comes to large thermodynamic systems like human societies. They either grow, or as energy runs out, they deflate and collapse. It's a stark reality that would have resonated with the Romans as their empire began to crumble.
So, while we might debate how fast or how long civilizational decline will last, there should be no doubt that our current industrial model is on borrowed time. As soon as global energy production stops growing—due to the depletion of rich fossil fuel and mineral deposits—our current arrangements will cease to work. The accelerating, self-reinforcing phase of decline will kick into motion, producing the largest Seneca cliff Homo sapiens has ever experienced.
As I make my way back through the ancient streets of Rome, I can't help but wonder: what new sacred memes will emerge from the ashes of our spent resources and crumbling institutions? What ideas will bind us together as we navigate the challenges ahead? Perhaps, like the early Christians in the face of Rome's decline, a new paradigm is already taking root in the margins of our society.
The sun has set now, and the Colosseum looms in the darkness, a silent sentinel to the rise and fall of empires. As I bid farewell to the Eternal City, I carry with me a mix of trepidation and hope. The road ahead is uncertain, but if history teaches us anything, it's that humanity has a remarkable capacity for adaptation and renewal.
Ciao,
M
My hope: www.heliogenesis.io