Tuesday 23 April 2024

The Porcupine Saga, Part 8, When We Met Jack, Part 2

Allan Harper, midday, Wednesday, April 10, 2030

The three of them walked side by side down the laneway that led to the back of Jack's farm. Allan stayed quiet and concentrated on following what the old guys were saying. They were deep in conversation but stopped abruptly when they came to the fence at the south end of Jack's farm, looking out over Porcupine's hundred acres.

"I gotta say," said Jack, "I was wondering why you'd pick that particular farm. The creek runs right through the middle of it, and maybe half of it is in bush."

"The buildings are part of it, but all that bush is actually the main reason," replied Tom. "We're expecting the energy situation to get even worse and planning to run things mainly off firewood and muscle power."

"I see what you mean," said Jack, "surely not this year, though. I've got a 200 gallon tank just sitting there full of diesel fuel...."

"That could come in handy," said Tom. "It may take us a few years to get set up with work horses, and convert existing equipment for use with them. In the meantime we'll need to make the best possible use of every drop of diesel and gasoline we can get hold of."

"I'd suggest getting a couple of 200 gallon fuel tanks, one for diesel and one for gas. McCullogh Fuels in Inverpen would be glad to sell them to you and fill them up when fuel is available" said Jack. "I could also introduce you to some people who keep work horses as a hobby. Might be interested in selling you a team or two and harness to go with them. In the meantime, if diesel isn't available, canola grows well hereabouts and it isn't that hard to set up an oil press. Diesel tractors will burn it OK if you warm it up first to thin it out. Or, with a little more trouble, you can make it into biodiesel. Gasoline engines run fairly well on wood gas, and a gasifier isn't hard to set up."

"Yeah, we probably will do most of that at one point or another," said Tom.

Allan noted that there was a large pasture field on the other side of the fence, up the hill from the creek in the northwest corner of Porcupine's hundred acres—the bush only occupied the middle of the farm, on either side of the creek. Figuring that they would soon be crossing the fence, Allan started to climb over it in the middle of the span between two posts.

"Hey Allan," called his Dad, "not in the middle. Always cross a page wire fence next to a post, where it is well supported."

"Sorry Dad. I'm not much of a farm boy. ," said Allan, moving to the nearest post.

As the crow flies the distance to Porcupine was about a mile and a quarter, but when they left Jack's farm, the route grew complicated. After climbing the fence they headed southeast across the pasture field toward the bush. Jack led them straight to a footpath that took them into the bush and to a point where the north slope of the ravine wasn't too steep. The path went down that slope to the bottom of the ravine where a crude timber bridge crossed the creek.

There was a fallen tree just to the east of the bridge, it's trunk level enough to make a decent bench. Tom sat down and patted the tree. "Let's take a break."

Jack and Allan joined him.

By this point Tom had finished giving Jack an abbreviated version of what he'd covered the night before, outlining what The Porcupine Refuge Co-operative was all about and how Tom expected it would operate. "That's the idea of the thing, anyway," said Tom. "It's pretty clear, but the practical details, not so much. Besides being an electrician, I've got a bit of experience with gardening, woodworking, basket making, baking bread and cheese making. I learn well enough from books, but I've found it's a lot easier to have someone on hand who has some actual experience with whatever I'm trying to do."

"I can see that, for sure," said Jack. "And there are a few areas where I may be able to help you on that score. You were talking about firewood? Just take look around here."

He pulled a folding knife out of his pocket, opened it and jabbed the tip of the blade into the tree trunk they were sitting on. "This wood hasn't gone punky yet and I'd guess there is a lot of fallen deadwood here much like it, that would make decent firewood. Enough to last you through next winter, maybe longer. Clean it up and it will be a lot easier to access the rest of the wood in this bush. Looks to me like there's quite a bit of standing deadwood as well. Do you for another year before you have to cut any live trees, maybe."

"That's what I was hoping," said Tom. "We passed some ash trees that look like they haven't quite succumbed to the emerald borer yet. I've seen ash in that state put out a lot of new shoots from the stump after they were cut down. And the shoots get pretty big before the borer starts to bother them."

"Yep, I've seen that happen too," said Jack. "Coppicing, they call it—a great way to get a perpetual supply of firewood."

"Yes indeed. So it looks like with some care we can be well set for firewood," said Tom. "As for lumber... near the creek here I can see cedar, hemlock and willow. Further up the hill, where it's not so wet, we just walked by maple, beech, ash, birch and some cottonwood. All we need is a sawmill. I've seen some portable small scale ones that would do the job. We'll just have to add one to the list of things we need to acquire. So, given that, food would be the next thing to think about, and then textiles."

"Yep. I gather you don't need me to tell you how to grow a garden?" said Jack.

"Well, I'll listen to whatever you have to say, but I have done quite a bit of gardening in my day," said Tom. "I've got a book back at the house where the author, Carol Deppe, talks about what to grow if you want to feed yourself. Five things, she says—potatoes, corn, squash, beans, and a laying flock. All those (except the chickens, of course) can be planted and harvested with hand tools, and a fairly small plot of them will produce a lot of food."

"A good plan for people with limited access to land," said Jack, "but aside from the bush, you've got fifty acres or so and access to powered machinery, so I think you might want to go with a longer list—more variety, and more diversity and resilience in case one thing or another doesn't work out during any one year."

"Yep, I agree," said Tom. "We will have a big garden, with herbs, greens, tomatoes, peppers, cabbage and kale, onions, leeks and root crops other than potatoes. I've good a bunch of them started under lights already. And I think we'll treat Carol's list as field crops and add more types of grains, as well. Wheat, oats and barley at a minimum. I take it that would be your area of expertise?"

"Well, I've got some experience," said Jack. "Don't know if I'm really an expert. For instance, I've never grown potatoes on a large scale and I don't have the machinery."

"Well, my dad used to use a single furrow walking plow hitched behind a tractor to make a furrow to plant them in and to cover them once we planted them. In the fall he'd use the plow to turn the ground over to get at the potatoes," said Tom, "So maybe you can be more help than you think. But we'll cope one way or the other. I'd like to plant quite a lot of potatoes, a even if we have to plant and dig them by hand. Just for diversity in our starch crops."

"I haven't done much work with a walking plow," said Jack. "Your dad was from an earlier generation, sounds like."

"He sure was," said Tom. "Now about field crops...."

"You do like to stay on track, don't you?" said Jack with a chuckle.

Allan laughed, "He's got you there Dad!"

"Yeah, well..." said Tom, with a rueful look on his face "I've been told I can be a pain that way. Not a problem, I hope."

"Oh, hell no," said Jack. "A solution, if anything. It's pretty easy to sit around talking all day and not get anywhere. Good to have somebody to keep us out of those rabbit holes, eh? I think I was about to start one about our fathers, but that can wait for another day. So... yeah, corn, wheat, oats and barley are no problem. I've grown all those. I have machinery to plant and harvest them and I know where to get seed. I don't have a huller for the oats and barley, or a grinding mill to make flour."

"But you'd lend us the machinery you do have?" asked Tom.

"Sure—it's just sitting idle now," said Jack.

"That would be a big help," said Tom. "Several of us at Porcupine brought hand cranked flourmills with us. I even have one that's been adapted to be turned by an electric motor. A bigger, heavier duty one might be a good idea, though. I guess we'll have to add that, and a bunch of other stuff to the list."

"I'll bet that's gettin' to be a long list," said Jack with a grin.

"It sure is," said Tom. "Now, I'm guessing the corn you're thinking about would be a hybrid like everybody around here grows?"

"Yes it would," answered Jack, "Not so good if you're wanting to save seed for future years, I will admit."

"Not to worry," said Tom. "We can plant the hybrid corn this year for immediate use. I have a gallon jar of non-hybrid white flour corn seed which we can plant well away from the hybrid corn this year and get enough seed to plant a few acres next year. May do the same thing with some non-hybrid sweet corn and popcorn too."

"Might be a bit of a trick to keep those different types of corn separated enough," said Jack. "It's pollen carries a long way on the wind."

"Yep, we'll have to be careful about that," agreed Tom. "There are a few other crops I am interested in...."

"Yeah?" said Jack.

"Well, there are eight crops that people don't usually think of, that I'm convinced are pretty important" said Tom. "Bamboo, willow, hazel, flax, hemp, sorghum, sugar beets and Russian dandelions"

"Well, I've grown flax and sorghum," said Jack. "and before the depression hit, a few people around here were growing hemp. The new, simpler licensing requirements that came in after pot was legalized made it easier to get started. I could call a few people, probably get you started on hemp too. I presume you want the flax for the fibre as well as the seeds, and the sorghum for the sweet juice as well as the grain. If I were you, I'd probably try canola, too. But I have to admit I know very little about the rest."

"Canola and maybe sunflowers would be a good idea," said Tom. "As for the others, well, bamboo is a useful building material, and in the spring the shoots are a nice treat. Willow coppices really well. If you cut it every year you get thin shoots that are good for basket making. If you cut every three to five years the shoots get big enough to use as firewood. Hazel you grow mainly for the nuts, but it too has shoots that can be used like willow. We'd grow sugar beets for the sugar in them. And you can make rubber from latex in the roots of the dandelions. It's amazing the number of things that rubber is used in, and there's a fungus that destroying the rubber tree plantations in the far east. Plus shipping from that distance is going to get chancy."

"If this goes well, I might learn a thing or two here," said Jack. "So, anyway, I take it you folks ain't vegetarians?"

"No, we certainly are not," said Tom.

"OK. When it comes to stock, I have had some experience with cattle, pigs and sheep on a fairly large scale, and chickens on a small scale—just a few for eggs, you know," said Jack.

"That would do for a start," said Tom. "Some beef cattle—cows and a few steers. And three or four dairy cows so I can get back into cheese making. Preferably Holsteins, young ones who've just had their first calf and are still milking. I'm assuming the artificial insemination people are still in business?"

"So far, yes," answered Jack, "though I think you'd might want to look at having a bull in the long run. I don't think we can rely on any business to survive for long if the depression continues. Sure, some will, but enough won't that you wouldn't want to count on them."

"Yep," said Tom. "We'll want sheep too. My main interest there is milking sheep, since it's the best milk there is for cheese making. I'm not sure if milking sheep are much good for wool or meat—I guess we'd have to research that."

"I know some of the Amish people hereabouts that keep milking sheep," said Jack. "I think they'd be interesting in selling you some."

"Good. I'd like you to have a look at our barn and see if there's room for all this stock," said Tom, "If there is room I'd sure like to have some pigs and chickens too. Definitely laying chickens, but some for meat as well. There are only twenty of us for far, but I'm thinking we'll add another 100 acres later this year, and see about finding another twenty people with some of the skills we are missing. So we'll want to be set up to feed that many people."

"You're looking at 5 acres per person, from the sound of it?" said Jack.

"Yeah—that may sound like a lot, but remember we are planning to be self sufficient in firewood, lumber and fibre at least, as well as food, and feed for the stock," said Tom. "We'll want to have some surplus too, to get us through bad years. With climate change, I think we can expect some of those."

"Seems reasonable," said Jack. "You don't happen to have a butcher among you?"

"Not yet," said Tom. "For now, we'll be trucking anything we want butchered to Bluewater Meats, on the highway just north of Inverpen."

"They do a nice job," said Jack. "Now, excuse me for jumping back, but I guess we'll have to have a closer look at what acreages you want of the various field crops."

"I'll have to draw on your experience there—I have some ideas of how much we need, but not what we can expect for yields," said Tom.

"Good. Seems like we've covered food, fibre and building materials," asked Jack. "Is there anything we've missed?"

"There are other grains we might want to try," said Tom. "but let's leave that for another year. I'll want to talk to the people at Busy Bee Honey in Inverpen about getting a few hives of bees out here for pollination and honey. The other big thing I want to try is setting up an orchard. There's a nursery down near Alma that specializes in fruits, berries and nuts suitable for this climate. They take a few years to get going, so I'd like to get that started ASAP."

"I don't know much about growing fruit," said Jack. "Clearly possible, though—every farm around here used to have a orchard."

"Yep," said Tom. "I guess we'll want to make sure we can get the hides back from the butcher, too. Leather is useful for so many things, it's worth putting the effort into learning how to tan and work it."

"That's ambitious," said Jack. "But it's not like you're talking about doing anything that people haven't been doing for millennia."

Up until this point Allan had only the vaguest idea of how Porcupine was going to feed itself, but it seemed that Jack, with his experience and equipment, was just what they needed. Still, it sounded like a lot of work. "How many of us is it going to take to grow all this stuff and raise all this stock?"

"Sounds overwhelming, does it?" said Jack.

"As I said before, I'm no farmer," said Allan, "but yeah, it sound like a hell of a lot to take on."

"It may seem that way," said Jack, "but it isn't really. The kind of operation your dad's thinking of has often been done by one family, using horses instead of powered machinery, working hard while they are at it, but with lots of downtime too."

"Your grandfather would be an example of that, Allan," said Tom. "He switched from horses to a tractor when I was a little kid. But the farm he had was about the size I am thinking of, and run by one family of five, three of us kids, with occasional help from my uncles. I think the hard part isn't the growing, but the next stage where it all has to be processed into food, clothing and so forth. That will keep us busy."

"Looks that way to me too," said Jack.

"You guys would know, I guess," said Allan, somewhat skeptically.

"Well, I hope we do," said Tom. "I probably am missing a few things, but they'll become obvious as we go along. For now, maybe we should get moving."

They got up, crossed the bridge, and soon came out into the field behind Porcupine's bank barn. From there they continued past the barn and into the parking lot.

Jack looked around the parking lot. "You folks sure have a bunch of vehicles here."

"Yeah, most everybody so far has come with one or two," said Tom. "I guess we need to sort them out and sell the poorer ones or store them somewhere for parts. Since they all belong to the commune now, nobody wants to take the first step, I'd guess."

Just then, Andrea and Terry pulled into the parking lot and jumped out of the pickup truck they'd taken into Inverpen. "Hey Dad," called Andrea, "what's up?"

"This is Jack Collins," answered Allan, "our neighbour to the north. Grandpa and I went to his place to say hello and he's come back with us for supper. Jack, this is my daughter Andrea and the guy with her is Terry Mackenzie."

Andrea and Terry shook hands with Jack. "We're planning to put a sign up over the gate, and we got most of what we need," said Terry. "But anything big enough for tall gate posts was either out of stock, or God awful expensive. I'm wondering if there might be some big straight cedars back in the bush?"

"You know, just now we walked by some trees that might do nicely," said Allan. "I don't think we have a chainsaw yet though."

"No need to worry about that," said Jack. "I've got a chainsaw and a tractor to haul the logs back here. Maybe a bit late to start at it today though. What if I show up tomorrow morning with the tractor and saw?"

Andrea, Terry and Allan all looked to Tom for an answer.

"I know the sign was my idea, but it's your project now. What do you think?" said Tom.

They looked at each other for a moment and then nodded. "Sounds good to us," said Terry "Could you guys give us a hand unloading the truck?"

Soon the materials were all stashed in the second pole barn and Tom said, "Am I right in guessing that we've all missed lunch?

There was general agreement on this and they headed for the house. They were standing in front of the fridge with the door open when the housing crew (Karen, Erika and Cindy) came in.

"Looking for a snack?" asked Karen after the introductions were done.

"We'd like to dignify it by calling it a late lunch," answered Tom. "Not sure what to have though."

"Why not keep it simple," said Karen. "There's bread and peanut butter in the cupboard and jam there in the fridge."

"OK," said Tom. "I've invited Jack here to supper. Hope that's OK."

"Sure," said Karen, "with this many, one more doesn't make much difference.

They set about making themselves sandwiches and a few minutes later joined the housing crew in the dining room. Allan sat down next to Erika.

"You mind if Jack joins us?" Tom asked.

"The more the merrier," said Erika.

"How'd the measuring go?" asked Tom.

"Pretty good," said Erika, "we've got pages of numbers and more questions than we started with."

"That's just a sign that you're doing it right," said Tom.

"Maybe so," said Erika. "We've realized we aren't clear on what level of accommodation we should be providing for people."

"That's a good question, and one we'll need to address as a group," said Tom. "It would be good if you had a few suggestions though."

"Yeah, I think we do," said Erika. "We're also wondering what resources we have to draw on. Just the buildings right here, or if we are eventually going to take over the whole concession and occupy all the buildings?"

At this, Jack cleared his throat and spoke up, "One of those sets of buildings is mine, and I don't plan on leaving until they take me out in a pine box."

"Sorry Jack," said Erika, "we're just brain storming here—didn't mean to step on any toes."

"It's OK," said Jack, "don't mean to be grouchy, just wanted you to know how things are."

"Yeah, we understand," said Tom, "In any case, I think we want to keep everyone living right here, within easy walking distance of each other, with a common kitchen and dining room and so forth."

"OK, that gives us a basis to work from," said Erika. "I guess we'll need to get together after supper and talk this over."

"You should find Angie and let her know about that," said Tom. "Well, guys, maybe we should leave these folks to it and go have a look around the place."

As Allan stood up he caught Erika's eye. She just shrugged and shook her head.

They picked up their sandwiches and drinks, and headed out the back door onto the porch which ran along the north side of the house.

"I think we're going to see if we can get started on that sign. Right Andrea?" said Terry.

"You bet," answered Andrea, and they headed off toward the pole barns

After an awkward moment of silence, Jack spoke up, "Figure you guys got sent to my place to see if I wanted to sell out."

"You're not wrong," said Tom, "but it was clear to me once we got talking that that wasn't the thing to bring up."

"You're right there," said Jack. "Maybe we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial understanding, though. Just give it some time—I don't like to be rushed." After a moment of silence, he went on, "What about you, Allan? You're pretty quiet. Where do you fit in around here?"

"I find I do better with my mouth shut," said Allan, "at least until I get to know you better. Don't take it personally."

"Nope, no problem there," said Jack. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"Well, I'm an industrial electrician by trade," said Allan. "I guess my job is to keep the lights on. We haven't had a lot of outages since we got here, from natural causes or sabotage. But that could start up again anytime. And in the long run we don't want to buy power from the grid even if it is available. So far, we've got three generators and a bunch of jerry cans of gasoline. And the generators are hooked into whatever building they supply with a transfer switch, so it's even legal and safe. Long term, the problem is prime movers to spin those generators."

"And that would involve firewood from what Tom was saying earlier?" asked Jack.

"Yes. The challenge is how to use burning firewood to spin a generator," said Allan. "Like you were saying, the simplest approach would be to build a wood gas generator and use the wood gas to fuel the existing gasoline engines on our generators. Our metal working guys are pretty sharp and they seem to think that would be easy. Beyond that, I guess we could replace those gas engines with steam or Stirling engines. Again, the metal guys are keen to try, but it's all on paper at the moment.

"Where've you got these generators stashed?" asked Jack.

"There's one just around the corner of the house," said Allan. "Let's have a look."

He led them down the steps and to the left around the corner of the house. There was a wood pile there and a small metal storage shed. Allan opened the door of the shed and pointed inside. "Here's the generator that feeds the house. The shed protects the generator from the elements. There's this sound deadening stuff on the inside," he said, pointing, "—heavy foam rubber, basically —and the exhaust is vented to the outside through a muffler to keep the noise down. The sheet metal is all bonded together and solidly grounded, and the connection to the house is protected by MOVs—little lightning arrestors— so it should be fairly well lightning/EMP/solar flare proof. The connection is via an extension cord, so we can move the generator and hook it up anywhere else it's needed."

"Ten kilowatts, eh?" said Jack, after taking a close look at the generator.

"Yeah," replied Allan, "we don't normally need that much—we heat the house and cook with wood—but we're still using an electric water heater, which takes about 4500 watts. When we're off grid, we don't run the water heater continuously, just for a while when we need hot water. Eventually we'll switch over to heating water with wood too. The generator is only about 25% percent efficient, so burning fuel to make electricity and then turning the electricity back into heat is pretty dumb."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Jack. "What about your wood pile? Where did it come from? You said you moved here in February—it's pretty hard to buy firewood at that time of year. And anything you took out of the bush wouldn't be dry."

"That's true," said Allan. "Dad, the Mackenzies and the MacGregors had wood piles and brought them with them. Enough to get us through this winter, looks like. Fortunately, it hasn't been cold."

"Would you eventually try to do without electric power?" asked Jack.

"Eventually is a long time," replied Allan. "And that amounts to never, if I get my way. Yes, eventually our generators will break down, even though we bought top quality ones. And so far we've bought identical ones so we can switch out parts when we need to. Most of the parts we'll be able to repair or build from scratch, except for the solid state stuff which I'd guess will be beyond us. But we'll buy spares of what we can't build, and that will extend the amount of time that we can keep things running. For quite a few decades, I hope. And remember, people were building generators in the late 1800s and early 1900s using technology that is well within our reach."

"The thing is whether we want to make that reach," Tom said. "We've only got so much in the way of materials and energy. Energy both in terms of firewood and of human focus and effort. There may turn out to be other things that are more important."

"Maybe so," said Allan, "but electric power is so damned useful—for a number of pretty basic things. As you yourself were saying just last night, Dad. Some of those things you can do directly with mechanical power from a heat engine, of course. But if you give up on both electricity and heat engines, it's a big step down. And if you've got heat engines, electricity is only a small step further.

"I think the real limitation with be the amount of time it takes to cut and dry firewood and build and maintain the infrastructure to use it. If we set out to use a great deal of energy, we'd end up spending all our time cutting and stacking firewood and none enjoying it benefits. Clearly, there's a sweet spot somewhere in the middle."

"You would certainly hope so," said Jack. "So let's see—steam engines date from the late 1700s so you'd be talking about going back to pre 1800s tech, I'd guess, if you gave up on electricity and heat engines altogether."

"Exactly," said Allan, "where I think we can maintain late 1800s tech at the worst, more likely early 1900s."

"I hope you can," said Jack. "It'll be interesting to watch, anyway."

The conversation paused for a moment, then Tom spoke up."Well, let's have a look around the rest of the place."

It was getting dark by the time they'd done the full circuit and arrived back at the house. "The bank barn is in surprisingly good shape," Jack said, "The steel on the roof is fairly new, so it's just a matter of pointing up the mortar in the foundation wall and replacing a few broken window panes, and it should be good to go. And there's lots of room for all the stock we were talking about.

"All the pole barns need is a good cleaning up if you plan to use them for human occupation. You'll want to get a pressure washer and a few big jugs of soap. Should be easy enough to build in interior walls and ceilings, with lots room for insulation."

"This house is the most amazing part," he went on, "if my memory serves, it was built back in the 1960s, when the McConnell family outgrew the little stone farm house that used to be here. Lots of bedrooms and storage space in the original design. Then in the 80s, they put on that addition and beefed up the insulation on the whole place."

"Like I was saying, the buildings were part of the attraction of the place," said Tom. "I used to take photos for real estate agents and while I've photographed a few farm houses this big, they aren't common. This one is ideal for our purposes—big enough, but simply built rather than some kind of damned mansion."

They went into the house to find supper almost ready and were soon sitting down in the dining room with rest of the Porcupiners. Allan thought that sounded better than "Porkies", but he decided to let someone else broach the subject.

The Porcupiners loved both talk and food—during a meal it was hard to tell which was really their favourite. Even Allan, who preferred eating to talking, enjoyed listening. And he observed that Jack joined right in with lots of intelligent questions and comments.

It didn't seem like long before they had finished desert and cleared the tables, loading the dishes into the one built-in dishwasher that had come with the place, and two portables that a couple of them had brought with them. That done, they adjourned to the addition.

Coming soon, The Porcupine Saga Part 9, When We Met Jack Part 3.


Links to the rest of this series of posts:
The Porcupine Saga

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Tuesday 16 January 2024

The Porcupine Saga, Part 7, When We Met Jack

Will Harper, late afternoon, Saturday July 21, 2040

"Well," said Will Harper, "I guess he must have talked you into it, 'cause there's the sign."

"Oh, we gave him a hard time, just to remind him that he was no longer the boss," said Allan. "Some thought it was a silly name, but they had nothing better to offer. So it didn't take long to reach a consensus. We became the Porcupine Refuge Co-operative, and a couple of days later the sign went up.

"That evening, before shutting down, we agreed to adopt Dad's suggestions about direct democracy and communism, and to get some training for everyone in consensus decision making, ASAP. We came up with a list of decisions that needed to be made soon, to be investigated by a number of new crews over the next few days, and agreed to meet every Tuesday night after supper, unless events called for a meeting sooner than that. Dad and I agreed to visit our neighbour the next day, with an eye to buying his land and equipment. That's the next story I should tell. Right now, probably, since the tour I've promised you would include some spoilers. It's not as long as the last one, so I think we've still got time."

"OK," said Will, "we don't want to be late for supper, but go for it!"

Allan Harper, morning, Wednesday, April 10, 2030

Allan Harper got out of bed, stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Erica had risen earlier, leaving him to sleep. For most of his working life Allan had been a shift worker, and pretty seriously sleep deprived. He'd promised himself that here at Porcupine he'd make a point of getting enough sleep whenever he could, even if it meant being the last one out of bed. He dressed and left their upstairs bedroom, made his way down the stairs and down the hall into the kitchen.

The breakfast rush was over and the big pot on the back of the woodstove contained only the dregs of that morning's oat porridge with dried fruit. It looked like enough for his purposes though, so Allan started spooning porridge into a bowl and soon found there was indeed enough left to make him a very adequate breakfast. He grabbed a jug of milk from the fridge and a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove and, managing to hold onto all three, headed for the dining room. He found his dad, also not an early riser, alone at one of the big tables, reading. Tom was sitting part way down one side of the table and Allan sat down opposite him.

"Morning," said Tom. "You're eating porridge?"

"Good morning to you, too," said Allan. "You remember I didn't like it when I was a kid?"

"Yes, actually," replied Tom.

"Well, here at Porcupine, I'm making a point of trying new things and some old things that I didn't like before," said Allan. "This porridge, for instance. And it is much better than what we had thirty years ago. Which is odd, since Mom made this porridge too. Different texture, different taste."

"Well, that's made with steel cut oats, instead of rolled oats, and it's got an assortment of dried fruit in it. It's also cooked in a pot on the stove rather than microwaved. Which is your mother's idea—I'm the microwave guy," said Tom. "But I suspect your tastes have changed, as well. I know mine have over the years. Anyway, it's a good thing you like it, since oats are easy to grow around here."

"Glad to hear it," said Allan, and spooned up more porridge.

"You ready for a walk?" asked Tom.

"Soon as I finish eating and brush my teeth," said Allan. "We're heading over to see the neighbour?"

"That's what was decided last night," said Tom. "I seem to remember you volunteering...."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to contribute to the effort," said Allan, "diplomacy has never been my strong suit."

"In my opinion you're too modest," said Tom. "But maybe you're supposed to watch out for me—I'm getting old."

"Nah, you're hanging in there pretty well... for a guy your age," said Allan with a wink. "So what exactly is the plan, anyway?"

"Plan may be too strong a word. We're going to walk over there," said Tom, "And check out the supposedly closed bridge on the way. When we get there, we'll introduce ourselves, feel him out and play it by ear. The fact that he's still there indicates to me that he doesn't want to leave, but you never know."

"OK," said Allan, "What's everybody else doing while we go for a walk?"

"Again, pretty much what was decided last night," said Tom. "At breakfast earlier this morning people split off into a number of crews. It's a bit of a job to keep track of them all, but I think I've got it straight...

"Oh yeah?" said Allan.

"Yeah," said Tom. "Our legal crew, Mark and Angie, are in the living room with the door closed, looking into getting us registered as a non-profit co-op, and checking how what we want to do here will fit into the local zoning regulations, and what more we need to do to make it fit."

"Our education crew, made up of Nora, Jane and all the school age kids, is in the addition. Again with the door closed, setting up for some home schooling.

"The metal working crew—Jim, Don, Wilf and Miles—are moving their stuff into the machine shed and setting it up ready to use.

"Andrea and Terry have headed into Inverpen to pick up materials for the sign we're going to put over the gate.

"Erika, Cindy and your mom are the housing crew today. They're out measuring the barns and outbuildings, and have already measured in here. All this with an eye to finding accommodations for everyone, including those who'll be joining us as time goes on, and to setting up a central kitchen and dining/meeting hall."

"So, it's really that simple?" said Allan around another mouthful of porridge. "Everybody just gets together and organizes themselves?"

"It seems that it is," replied Tom. "Especially without a bunch of management people with stupid ideas. A good thing, too—if it wasn't that simple, it might be practically impossible. Then someone like me—probably me, in fact—would be stuck trying to do it, and failing. As it is, I don't have to organize one bit of it."

"You sound pretty happy about that," said Allan. "Somebody's going to do it, though, right?"

"I suspect we all have a part to play," said Tom. "It's certainly not done yet. Right away we need a building crew, and we're missing a carpenter, a plumber, an HVAC guy and an electrician who specializes in residential wiring, instead of industrial and power maintenance guys like you and I. Pretty soon we'll need a garden crew, a farm crew, and a forestry and firewood wood crew, at least.

"But again, I don't have to organize finding those people or putting them to work. Anyway, I'm going to get ready for that walk. Meet you on the front porch shortly."

"OK." said Allan. He tucked into his porridge, finishing it in short order and heading up stairs to brush his teeth and put on a pair of hiking boots, his light jacket and a Blue Jays ball cap. He stuck a pair of leather work gloves in one of the jacket's pockets and headed downstairs. Moments later he found his father sitting on the front steps of the old farmhouse, in his khaki safari jacket, with an olive coloured Tilley hat on his head. "You're looking pretty spiffy. Ready to go?"

"Yep," said Tom, "let's head out."

As they crossed the parking lot towards the front gate, Allan noticed several people moving equipment from a trailer into the machine shed just to the east of the barn. Wilf the welder, Don McPherson, Jim MacKenzie and Allan's step-son Miles were all there and seemed to be working together quite effectively. And having fun while they were at it, to judge from the occasional outburst of laughter. The metal crew, hard at it. Allan found it encouraging to watch.

They went out through the front gate and headed east along the shoulder of the Seventh Concession. Allan couldn't help thinking how much the climate had actually changed over the last few years. When he was a kid in Inverpen, even with the moderating influence of Lake Huron, it had been common to have temperatures below freezing for weeks at a time in winter. And lots of snowfall during those times. Some years the lake even froze over. A few miles inland, like here at Porcupine, it was usually at least a few degrees colder. But this past winter there had only been a few days below freezing and what snow fell melted quickly. The grass in the pasture fields was already turning green and the buds on the row of maple trees along the fence line were opening up.

Looking back at the group of buildings at Porcupine, Allan's thoughts turned back to the work that faced them at the co-operative. "You know, if it's just putting a few partitions inside existing buildings, I'll bet the tradesmen we already have could manage it," said Allan. "That sort of carpentry isn't hard. And you did some drywall work when you built our house back in Inverpen, didn't you?"

"It was a bit of a comedy of errors, but I ended up doing all the drywall finishing in that house," Tom replied. "I hired some guys to put the board up, but they did a terrible job, and the prices I was getting to do the finishing were way too steep. So I decided to do it myself. Started in the closets and by the time I was done I was doing a pretty decent job. It's not really hard. I could show you the basics in a day—the main thing is to work in thin coats. And to do a good job of installing the drywall itself so you don't have too much of a mess to hide with the mud. You're right about the carpentry too. I'm sure we could put in some partitions, even do a bit of wiring and plumbing with the guys we've got. But we need to see what exactly the group wants to do first."

"Sounds like we've got another meeting coming after supper tonight to sort that out," said Allan.

"Maybe so. I know what I'd like to do, but I expect I could be talked into whatever the group prefers" said Tom. "Anyway, this is our turn up ahead here."

They turned left and headed north along the side road. Almost immediately, they came to the "Bridge Closed" sign.

"Where's this bridge?" asked Allan, since it wasn't visible from where they stood.

"I've never been further than this," said Tom, "but I suspect it's a ways ahead yet and then down in the ravine."

"OK, lead on," said Allan

The road went downhill a little and then leveled out for half a mile or so. Then it turned a little to the right to head straight down a steeper slope, at the bottom of which was the creek, with a typical township road concrete bridge across it. Allan couldn't see anything wrong with the bridge, but there was another sign: "Closed to vehicular travel".

His dad went down to the edge of the water on the west side of the bridge and had a closer look. "Yeah, there are some cracks down here, alright," he said. "I don't think she'd stand anything very heavy, but we should be OK. One at a time, if you're worried."

"Sure, why don't you go ahead," said Allan. "I'll stand by to either fish you out of the creek or follow across."

"Nothing to that," said Tom as he reached the other side of the bridge and set out up the higher hill to the north.

Allan would have sworn he could feel the bridge shifting as he crossed, but he made it and caught up to Tom by the time they reached the top of the hill. The land to the north of the creek was at a higher level and it was easier to see how the concession was laid out. The creek meandered southwest, crossing the Seventh Concession just before the next side road to the west, with a good growth of bush along both sides of it for most of the way.

"Now, where I grew up, the farms were square, with two rows of five making up a rectangular concession, about eight tenths of a mile wide by not quite two miles long, adding up to a thousand acres. Here the farms are rectangular, a quarter mile wide along the concession roads, by five eights of a mile deep, with two rows of five making up a square, a mile and quarter on a side. A total of a thousand acres again, but a different shape."

"Interesting," said Allan, "I didn't know that was how it worked. So that's why the locals use 'a mile and a quarter' as a unit of distance all the time."

"Yep," said Tom. "Now that's where we are headed." He pointed to a set of buildings about half way along the Ninth Concession toward the next side road to the west.

"Should we cut across the fields?" asked Allan.

"Well, maybe not," answered Tom. "The ground is still wet and the grass and weeds from last year look pretty tangled."

"OK, by the road then," said Allan.

Even going the long way, it was less than half an hour later when they reached the laneway they were aiming for.

"Looks like his truck is here, so he's likely home," said Allan as they turned in and started toward the house.

"Hope so. I'm just wondering which door we should go to," said Tom. "Probably the side one, nearest to where he parks the truck."

Allan followed his dad up the steps onto the porch. Tom pushed the door bell button and they could hear it ringing inside, but it brought no immediate response. After a minute or two, Tom tried again.

A gruff voice responded almost immediately from inside, "Keep your drawers on, I'm coming."

The door opened, revealing a skinny fellow about Tom's age, dressed in a grubby T-shirt, bibbed overalls and bare feet in ratty house slippers. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and it looked like he hadn't combed his hair in just about as long. He had an old double barreled shotgun in his hands, fortunately pointed downwards and well away from them. Allan noted with some relief that while the hammers were cocked, the old guy's finger was well clear of the triggers.

"Who're you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"We're your new neighbours to the south and we just wanted to introduce ourselves," said Tom. "I don't think you'll need that gun to keep us in line."

"Don't worry about the gun," he replied, releasing the hammers, breaking it open, removing both shells and putting them in one of the pockets of his overalls. "It's not intended for you. I'm Jack Collins. Been living here for the last 75 years. Who'd you say you were?"

"I'm Tom Harper and this is my son Allan," said Tom. "We moved into the old McConnell place back in the winter, along with some other folks."

"I see," said Jack, offering his hand, which both Tom and Allan shook in turn." If you'd like to come in, I can put some coffee on."

"That'd be great, Jack," said Tom, and they followed him inside.

Allan was wondering what or who the gun had been intended for, and what exactly they'd interrupted. Jack paused for a moment in the hall to lock the shot gun in his gun safe, and then showed them into the kitchen. "Have a seat at the table there while I put the kettle on."

The place was a bit of a mess and smelled like little effort had be spent on cleaning recently. Allan and Tom sat down and watched while Jack puttered away making coffee in a cone and filter setup. "Yeah, this is pretty old fashioned—got it back in '81, a couple of years after we got married. The darned thing lasted longer than my wife. Still works though, and no need for anything fancier. Actually, I used to say the same thing about Mary," he said, "But now that she's gone, it's not so funny."

The kettle came to a boil and Jack poured some water over the coffee in the filter. "I hope you can excuse me for being kinda rude when you came to the door, I'm not having a great day. Now you said your name's Tom Harper. I've been reading a blog for nearly twenty years now, written by a guy of that name. You don't mean to tell me that you're him?"

"Yep, I am him," said Tom.

"And you just show up at my door, out of nowhere, after all this time, " said Jack.

"Kinda like, yeah," said Tom. "I'm as surprised as you—I don't meet many people around here that follow my blog, and I don't believe you've ever commented."

"Nah," said Jack, "I don't usually comment on social media—guess I'm pretty shy. I can see how my interest in your blog might surprise you, most folks around here voting Conservative and all. But I spent 26 years in the union down at the plant and it changed my attitude, I can tell you. I'd guess that I am as much of a leftist as you, and something of a kollapsnik, too. It's nice to meet you—there's not many neighbours left and none with sensible politics."

Jack shook his head, then poured some more water in the filter cone, set the kettle down and gave the liquid in the cone a stir. "Should be ready in a few minutes."

Allan was interested to see his dad somewhat at a loss for words. It had been happening a lot lately. To be fair, this was unexpected—not the way they'd been thinking things would go at all. He perched on the edge of his seat, eager to see what might happen next.

Before Tom could say anything, Jack cleared his throat and spoke, "So what are you folks doing at the McConnell place—setting up some kind of damn commune?"

Allan thought it was a good thing Tom didn't have his coffee yet—he might have choked on it or spilled most of it on the floor.

"Well, uh, actually yes," said Tom after a moment. "Some kind of commune is exactly what we're trying to set up."

"Don't be embarrassed," said Jack. "The way things are going, that's probably a good idea. Provided you can find the right people to join you. I don't have the connections anymore. Is it just you two so far?"

"No, no—there are twenty of us as of yesterday," said Tom.

"Coming along then. You got a name for it?" asked Jack.

"Yep, we just decided that last night," answered Tom. "We're calling it The Porcupine Refuge Co-operative. The reason for the Porcupine part is a bit of a long story. The Refuge Co-operative part is more straight forward, what with all the people—basically refugees—coming back to this area 'cause things are going so badly in the big cities."

"Uh huh," said Jack, turning to grab a trio of mugs from the cupboard. "Looks like the coffee's done."

He poured the fresh brew into the mugs and set them on the table. "What do you take in it?"

"Just something white," said Tom, "whatever you got."

"Same here," said Allan.

"Well, there's milk in the fridge," said Jack. "Let's see what shape it's in." He pulled a carton of whole milk out of the fridge and gave it a sniff. "Seems OK, even if it is past the 'best by' date. Help yourselves."

As Tom and Allan took care of that, Jack said, "well, if we're going to be neighbours, we should get to know each other a bit. What about your family, Tom?"

"Well, my wife is with us at Porcupine, and we have three kids, including this fellow here," said Tom, nodding at Allan. "And counting Allan's step kids, we have 6 grand children. Allan, his wife and her two kids, grown up now, are at Porcupine too."

Jack nodded. "My wife passed a few years ago. We had two kids, both of whom moved to Alberta for work and aren't talking to me anymore. They're hard right wingers now and part of the 'let the eastern bastard freeze in the dark' crowd. So I'm pretty much alone here. Sold the last of the stock last fall and buried my dog a month ago. Lucky the ground wasn't frozen."

"That's too bad, Jack. A fella can get mighty attached to his dog, not speak of his family" said Tom. "You worked at Bruce Power for a while?"

"Well, yeah. Grew up here, went to high school in Inverpen, apprenticed as a carpenter with a local contractor. Worked for him for a few years, then got a job as a scaffolder at the plant. Those guys have scaffold built for anything you can't reach off a 3 foot step ladder. So it's steady work and the pay and benefits are great. The organization is kinda crazy though, so I retired as soon as I had the rule of 82 and farmed here every since. What about you?"

"I grew up on a farm about a hundred miles east of here," said Tom. "After high school I got a job as an apprentice electrician with Ontario Hydro, doing maintenance work in their switchyards. Ended up in the switchyards here at the plant and eventually got promoted to Crew Foreman. Like you, I retired as soon as I could, by which time the company was called Hydro One and was a separate outfit from OPG and Bruce Power. Still a crazy outfit, though maybe not quite as bad as Bruce Power."

Allan couldn't help chuckling silently at these two old guys grousing about how bad the companies they had worked for had been. During his working life he'd seen some privately owned outfits that were damn poorly organized. And even though he had worked mainly in union shops, the contracts he'd worked under had, at best, included only "defined contribution" pensions, not the gold plated "defined benefits" pensions that Ontario Hydro and its successor companies had. The "rule of 82" had allowed Tom and Jack to retire as soon as their age and accumulated years of service added up to 82, with only a slight discount for each year of service under 35. Allan knew his dad had been 51 when he retired, and gladly accepted that discount in order to get out. Allan had been laid off twice and had cashed out his pension both times to spend the small amount that had accumulated on rent and food.

"The last few years I just been farming for fun," said Jack. "Started collecting old farm machinery too. Which may come in handy if you're right about collapse. What have you been doing since you retired from Hydro One?"

"I had a little print shop the last few years before I retired and expanded it after retiring," replied Tom. "Sold it eventually and got into gardening. Like farming, but smaller, you know. I ran the Community Garden in Inverpen for a few years. Quit that when I turned 70.

"We sold our house in Inverpen to my younger brother and rented a place in Port Elgin. I read a lot, science fiction and non-fiction, write for my blog, do some woodworking and a bit of gardening still. And of course, spend time with the grandkids. Lots of fun there, although with gasoline not available sometimes and expensive when it is, we don't get together as much as I'd like."

At this point Allan twigged to what was guiding this conversation. Tom and Jack were both doing the "FORD" thing for making small talk with a new acquaintance—family, occupation, recreation, dreams. And it seemed to be working pretty well, so far. But he doubted that a couple of old working men like Tom and Jack would be keen on discussing something as airy-fairy as "dreams".

"Anything left you're hoping to do?" asked Jack.

"Well, I'm not much of a bucket list guy, but surviving collapse was my plan. Then this depression hit. Not that much of a surprise, really. But before long Allan here and a lot of other people I know were out of work and in a bad spot, things collapsing around them and nowhere to turn. So I started this 'refuge co-operative', actually putting into practice what I'd been talking about for years on my blog. We're just getting started, and it looks like it'll keep me busy for the rest of my life."

So, Allan observed, it's OK as long as they don't actually say the word "dreams".

"That sounds great, Tom," said Jack. "Myself, I'm kinda just sitting around wondering what I should do with the rest of my life. Not that many years left, I'd guess, but a fella would like to think he's doing something worthwhile with the time he'd got left."

"Well, maybe you could help your neighbours a bit," said Tom. "we're fairly clueless about farming and we'd like to get some stock and plant some crops this spring. Hoping to feed ourselves next winter, you know."

"Feeding yourselves would be good," said Jack. "I'd have to look your operation over, but I would guess I could give you some advice and maybe lend you some machinery. It would give me something to keep going for, if nothing else."

"Well, there's no time like the present," said Tom. "There's always a place at our table for one more—why don't you come back to Porcupine with us when we're finished with this coffee. I could show you around the place and introduce you to the rest of us."

"It's not like I had big plans for supper," said Jack. "There's a back way that cuts across the concession to your place. Saves a bit of time. Let me show you the way and you can fill me in on Porcupine while we walk. Just a minute though, I should change into something more presentable before we go."

Allan watched Jack disappear upstairs and Tom call home on his cell phone to warn them there be one more for supper. Then he just had to ask, "Hey Dad, what do you think we walked in on here?"

"I'm not sure, but maybe it's a good thing we arrived when we did," replied Tom.

In a few minutes Jack came downstairs dressed in brown cargo pants, a checked shirt, and work boots (with socks). He was freshly shaved and had combed his hair. All of which made a big improvement. He grabbed a coat and a feed store cap off a hook in the hallway and moments later they headed out the door and towards the laneway that ran down the center of Jack's farm, pointing straight towards Porcupine.

Coming soon, The Porcupine Saga Part 8, When We Met Jack Part 2.


Links to the rest of this series of posts:
The Porcupine Saga

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Wednesday 25 October 2023

The Porcupine Saga, Part 6, The Sign Above Our Gate

Allan Harper, later on Tuesday, April 9, 2030

Allan Harper left the old farmhouse and walked across the yard to the big pole barn where they'd been piling everyone's stuff as it came in, ready to be sorted out and distributed. It was getting dark, but a "dusk to dawn" light on a wood pole illuminated the area, and he easily made his way to the person-sized door in the east wall of the building. Entering, he called out, "Dad, you in there?"

"Yeah," Tom replied, "I'm back this way."

Allan picked his way between piles and found his Dad seated at a table which held an elderly desktop computer and a big printer. Behind him were several tables of seedlings with grow lights above and heating pads underneath. Tom had been working on them for the last few weeks—the pole barn was not, strictly speaking, heated, but it had been a warm spring thus far and the plants were doing well.

He nodded to his father and said, "I guess I owe you an apology."

"Maybe so," said Tom, turning away from the computer so he could face Allan. "I gotta tell you that 'fascist' shit cuts pretty deep."

"Yeah, I can see that," said Allan. "So, sorry. But...well, a lot of what you say really does sound fascist to me."

"I am puzzled by that," said Tom, "I've spent a lot of time, on my blog and on social media—even in person, sometimes—helping people identify fascism and talking about what is wrong with it. As I understand it, the two essential things about fascism are: one, a belief in inequality, that some people are significantly better than others, and we would do well to let those superior people lead, and two, that there is an essential identity, often based on race, that characterizes that elite. Right?"

"Sure," said Allan, "no argument there. But there are other elements to fascism, and eco-fascism is one of them. Whenever you start talking about over population as the world's main problem, you set off my 'eco-fascist' detector."

"I think there must be a little more to it than that," said Tom. "Eco-fascist are by definition right wing, which I am certainly not, and they are against immigration, which I am also not. As I was reading just now on Wikipedia, they 'embrace the idea of climate change as a divinely-ordained signal to begin a mass purge of sections of the human race', which I certainly don't agree with."

"So you say," said Allan, "but then you go on and make a liar of yourself."

"How so?" asked Tom, with a puzzled look on his face.

"Well," replied Allan, "you brought up the ideas of carrying capacity and overshoot—overshoot by 170%, I think you said—which implies mega, or maybe even giga, death, and mainly in the third world countries. All very handy for an eco-fascist, who would love to see all those poor, brown people gotten rid of. Environmentalism through genocide, it's been called."

"But I don't think overpopulation is our main problem," said Tom. "And I am not suggesting that we get rid of anyone. Maybe you need to look at little deeper into what I really am saying. Will you give me a chance to explain?"

"Sure," said Allan, "go for it. And you can start with this thing about overpopulation not being the problem—it's seems to me that it follows obviously when you start talking about carrying capacity and overshoot."

"Well, I've met a lot of people who do indeed think that connection is obvious," said Tom, "but I'm not one of them. I think you and I need to talk more about carrying capacity, but first we need to consider the other side of the calculation—the idea of impact. If our impact on the planet is greater than its carrying capacity, then we are in overshoot. Impact is the product of three factors: population, affluence and technology. I=PAT. Affluence, which is equivalent to consumption, is, in my opinion, the thing we should be focusing on. Overconsumption rather than overpopulation."

Tom reached back toward the table and picked up a sheet of paper, which he passed to Allan. "That's a diagram that I've been using as my banner on Facebook for years. I think it sums up some pretty significant information."

"OK, let's see," said Allan, "this plots percentage of total world consumption against income divided into deciles."

"That's right" said Tom, "see anything significant?"

"Well, it looks like the top decile—the richest 10% of the world's population—are doing almost 60% of the consuming," replied Allan, "and at the other end, the poorest people are consuming very little."

"Exactly," said Tom. "So if we did as the eco-fascists recommend—got rid of, say, the poorest half of the people living today—what effect would that have on our degree of overshoot? To make that easier for you, I've added it up—the poorest half of us only do about 7% of the consumption."

"Well," said Allan, pulling his smart phone out and starting up a calculator app, "if we are really 170% into overshoot, then reducing consumption by 7%... that's .93 times 1.7... we'd still be 158% or so in overshoot. Considering you're talking about killing over 4 billion people, it hardly seems worth it."

"I'm not talking about killing anybody, but yes, that's my point exactly," said Tom. "Here's another suggestion though—instead of killing anybody, let's try taking the richest 20%, who do nearly 77% of the total consuming, and reducing their consumption by 60%, so they are only consuming at a level that equals about 31% of our current total consumption. This still leaves them doing more than their share of consuming, which they seem to think they are entitled to, even though the other 80% of the population are only doing 23% of the total consumption.

"I've done the calculation, and it brings us down to around 92% of carrying capacity. In other words, not in overshoot at all. That's what an eco-socialist, or a green anarchist like me, thinks we should ideally do. And then we should put a quite a bit of effort into rebuilding our damaged biosphere so as to increase its carrying capacity and give ourselves a comfortable margin to work with. Of course, the 'them' I'm talking about is actually 'us', and that makes it harder."

"I have to admit," said Allan, "that even though you are discussing carrying capacity and overshoot, you don't sound much like an eco-fascist. At least when you are given a chance to go into the details."

"Funny how that works, eh? But I agree, many people in the 'collapse sphere' do deserve to be called ecofascists," said Tom. "They make statements about needing to 'get rid of' a certain number of people to solve the overshoot problem. Then they start talking about how even poor people contribute to overconsumption and how we need to stop the developing world's population from growing so fast. Without even considering that consumption in the developed world is growing faster than population in the developing world. On top of all that, it's clear that these folks have no intention of doing anything about their own contributions to overconsumption or overpopulation."

"Yeah, and it's that kind of thing that gets me pissed off," said Allan.

"And so it should," said Tom. "But a moment ago you said 'if we're 170% into overshoot'. I take it you're questioning that number?"

"More the carrying capacity numbers that it is based on," replied Allan.

"Right," said Tom, "and you were saying something about the whole concept having been debunked?"

"Yes, exactly," said Allan. "As I understand it, carrying capacity is dependent on technology—with better tech the planet could support more of us. It's the T in your I=PAT equation."

"I'll get back to technology in a moment," said Tom, "but first there is an ideological issue that may be causing some confusion here."

"What's that?" asked Allan.

"Well, I've noticed that conventional leftist these days freak out whenever they hear anyone talking about limits," replied Tom. "As I was saying earlier, they think shortages are always fake and just created to keep prices up and profits flowing. I won't deny that does happen sometimes—the so called 'free market' is anything but. Anyway, they do allow as how we live on a finite planet and someday we may run into limits, but surely not yet. I think they are fooling themselves more than anybody else—we are clearly running into some real limits."

"You're really sure about that, are you?" asked Allan.

"Yes, I am," said Tom. "I've observed that among the general population there seems to be a lot of selective blindness and denial where this subject is concerned. As if there has always been enough and always will be, and that's the end of it. But the whole science of ecology doesn't agree. Carrying capacity has proven to be a very solid and useful concept. Sure, it isn't a fixed number—it's actually easiest to calculate afterwards, based on observations, and it varies from year to year responding to factors like rainfall, temperature and so forth. And you are right—it can change based on the sort of technology you are using, but whether technology makes things better or worse is a tossup. I'll give you some links to the organizations that are calculating carrying capacity and ecological footprint. See for yourself if they are full of shit or not."

"I guess I should do that," said Allan. "I do know that most 'conventional leftists', as you call us, think that only the top 1% or so need to reduce their consumption, and then we can increase the standard of living of the people at the bottom end to something more equitable."

"That's a laudable goal," agreed Tom. "Those folks have a lot of faith in technology actually increasing carrying capacity and/or reducing our impact. Look up 'eco-modernism' if you want a catch phrase to match your 'eco-fascism'".

"Those eco-modernist guys have some good ideas," said Allan. "Right now we are feeding well over eight and a half billion people and doing a better job of feeding the poorest among them than we were even a few years ago. That's mostly due to advances in technology, so I don't see why are you so against it?"

"That's easy," said Tom, "The modern agricultural technology you're talking about is hugely dependent on non-renewable resources. Every calorie that's produced uses up ten calories of fossil fuel energy in the process. Plus minerals like phosphorous and potash, among others. All of which are non-renewable and being used up faster every year."

"But renewable energy sources are growing exponentially," said Allan. "At least they were before the depression hit."

"You're right," said Tom, "but the amount of fossil fuels we're using has been growing as well. Remember when I first started talking about Peak Oil back in the late naughties? We were using about 85 million barrels a day back then. In 2028 we were using well over a 100 million, even with all the renewable energy sources we'd added. The depression has reduced energy use somewhat, but it has also reduced investment in renewables and discovery work for fossil fuels. The big oil companies are spending less every year on finding new resources and borrowing money to pay dividends to their stock holders. And it's been a long time since new discoveries exceeded consumption. Clearly this can't go on forever, even if the depression is giving us a bit of a breather.

"We've gone to the ends of the earth and surveyed essentially all the resources. New finds are getting rarer and smaller, and the quality of the resources being discovered is getting lower, taking more energy and fancier technology to access."

"We do have a lot of faith in technology, " said Allan, "I think it has a huge potential to fix our problems. I'm puzzled as to why you don't see that."

"Well, if you look at history over the last few hundred years, technological advances have always brought about increases in consumption, not decreases, by reducing the costs of goods and services and making them accessible to more people," said Tom. "We have a tendency to think of technology as something that creates energy. In fact, technology uses energy and raw materials, to a large extent non-renewal resources like fossil fuels and metals that can't be replaced. And it produces wastes that have to be dumped in sinks that are another finite resource. Like CO2 from burning fossil fuels accumulating in the the atmosphere and the oceans, causing climate change and ocean acidification. So on the surface it may look like it's helping, but in reality, not so much.

"The idea of decoupling, of developing technology that can maintain and grow our standard of living without having a negative effect on the environment, seems in reality to be nothing but a pipe dream. The T term in I=PAT always seems to be greater than one when you look at it closely. I think technology has an important role to play in our future, as you'll see here if things go as I'm planning. But we are going to have to be very careful not to use it in ways that make things worse."

"Technology saving our asses is a critical to my argument," said Allan, "and now you are telling me it's bullshit?"

"Sorry, but I am," replied Tom, "based on two things:

"one, so far we have achieved only a little bit of relative decoupling, that is, increasing consumption these days doesn't have quite the impact it once had, but we are a long way from absolute decoupling—from actually managing to increase our consumption while at the same time reducing our impact. And there's no clear path to get from here to there.

"And two, the current state of the world is not conducive to further technological development. Not right away, for sure. Currently the whole planet is mired in a pretty serious depression, there's no spare money for anything, and quite a few places are suffering civil unrest or outright war. Climate change is getting worse every year, new pandemics and new variants of the old ones keep popping up and sabotage of our energy infrastructure continues."

"OK, you got me there" said Allan. "I have to admit that, over the last couple of years, I have grown more pessimistic about revolutionary changes ever happening. Whether you're talking about social organization or technology. I had a lot of hope for nuclear fusion as an energy source that could save us, but now it seems like all the research projects are shut down due to lack of funds."

"Fusion would only have been a short term fix," said Tom, "solving the energy shortage only to run us up against other limits in the long run, and pushing us farther into overshoot in the process. Make energy cheap and the waste heat from our increased energy use would soon become a problem, along with shortages of material resources.

"Anyway, I reached the same conclusion about revolutionary change years ago. You really should read my series of blog posts that summarizes the book The Limits To Growth. Sure, the book was published in the early 1970s, and wasn't meant to be a prediction, but since then things have gone pretty much as they said they would if we didn't change from our 'business as usual' approach.

"As I've just said, we do need reduce our level of consumption, and the best way to do that would be to get rid of capitalism. This would significantly reduce the ridiculous overconsumption inherent in the lifestyles of the rich. It would also get rid of the production and consumption of unnecessary products and services needed to create profits so the rich can continue to accumulate wealth. This might not quite get us out of overshoot, but darn close. To get the rest of the way, we could eliminate some of the waste that's built into our system, and if all else fails, try practicing just a little bit of frugality.

"It's not going to happen, though... I expect that we'll continue right on as we are until collapse brings us to a grinding halt—reducing both population and consumption whether we like it or not—and by a lot more than is necessary just to get us out of overshoot. Some of the things causing collapse are consequences of overshoot—climate change in particular. Others are the inherent flaws in our capitalistic system finally catching up with us.

"All that talk with Jim about slow versus fast collapse," Tom said, shaking his head. "It'll happen at the speed it happens. Still, if we can mount some relief efforts, and help people adapt, I think we can slow collapse significantly and save a whole lot of lives. But if we let it get past a certain point, we'll no longer have the resources to do anything about it, and what follows will be a hard, fast collapse with very few survivors.

"Anyway, sorry for the rant. As you know, recently most of my efforts have been focused on adapting to the changes that are coming. Like setting up this place."

"I think I do follow your explanation," said Allan, "and since your focus isn't on eliminating poor brown people, I guess I can live with it. I do have a couple of questions that have been nagging at me for a while, though."

"OK, got for it," said Tom.

"The first thing is this," said Allan. "You been talking about reducing consumption and at the same time you been talking living well. I've been assuming both those things apply to the community you want us to build here, and it seems to me they are contradictory. What about that?"

"You're right in your assumptions," said Tom, "and on the face of it those two things are contradictory. But it seems to me that the capitalists have done everything they can to make sure a lot of our basic needs don't get fulfilled, while at the same time creating a bunch of artificial needs that they can profit from. So people feel they are missing something and spend a lot on consumer goods they've been told they need, but that don't really help. We are going to reduce that here, cutting off the endless marketing that we've all been exposed to, and at the same time doing a much better job of fulfilling our real needs. We should feel better while actually consuming less."

"OK, I think I see what you mean," said Allan, "and it may even work. It's a big change for us to make in how we live, though."

"Yes, it will be," said Tom. "I think you'll find it will be a positive change, though. Not having to worry about earning enough to pay the bills, having worthwhile work that clearly contributes to the community and free time to create our own entertainment and enjoy it with friends in that community, will make a huge difference."

"You know, I think it will," said Allan. "My other question is about sustainability. You haven't been using that word very much, but it is implied in much of what you're planning."

"Yes it is," said Tom, "and it's going to be harder than many of us probably think."

"Well, that's just what I was going to say," said Allan. "Even though we are going to be reducing our consumption, we'll still be dependent on a lot of non-renewable resources. What are you going to do when they run out?"

"Well, many can be replaced with renewable resources," said Tom. "Some quite easily and immediately, others not so much. We need to make those ones last as long as possible, giving ourselves time to find renewable alternatives, or ways of doing without."

"That does sum it up nicely," said Allan. "I just wanted to make sure you are aware of the problem and planning on addressing it. Sounds like you are."

"Oh yes," said Tom. "Those are both good questions. I am a little surprised, though, that you don't have reservations about the ethics of what we are planning to do here."

"How do you mean?" asked Allan.

"Well, we are setting up to live fairly well, while people suffer and die elsewhere," replied Tom

"You can't be expected to do the impossible," said Allan. "Under the conditions that are coming, the developing world, and for that matter, most of the developed world, might as well be on the moon. At least we won't be exploiting them or their resources anymore. And you're planning on significantly reducing our level of consumption, so we won't be taking more than our share locally—probably significantly less."

"That's true, but somehow it doesn't seem like enough," said Tom.

"OK, but didn't I hear you talking about helping pretty much everybody who shows up at our gate?"asked Allan. "And helping out the local communities as much as we can?"

"Sure, but..." said Tom.

"No buts," said Allan, "I think you've got that one covered, as ethically as needs be. But what's this nonsense you're talking about how we should organize this place?"

"What nonsense?" asked Tom.

"Well, based on the bits and pieces I've heard so far, I have to say I am not impressed," said Allan. "Leadership has got to be a pretty important part of any organization, and it seems that you want to do without it altogether. And you'd have us spend a huge part of our time in meetings, hashing out what we are going to do. But perhaps I should give you a chance to make yourself clear?"

"Once again, that would be nice," said Tom. "OK, first let's take a wide view and talk about how we ended up where we are today, organization wise."

"OK," said Allan.

"Earlier, I was talking about how our ancestors lived in egalitarian bands, and it worked very well for them," said Tom. "Nobody called me on it, but I said nothing about how that lifestyle originated. Our nearest primate relatives all live in bands dominated by a single alpha male, and it seems likely that we started out that way too. And stuck with it, up to a point."

"OK," said Allan, "what point was that?"

"Well," said Tom, "most of us have a built in resentment of being dominated. As our intelligence evolved we got to the point where we could imagine something better than putting up with a dominant bully, especially a bully who wasn't very good at his job. Our communication skills had also developed and we could share our thoughts on the matter with our fellows and make plans together to get rid of the bully. At first that might have been just to replace him with someone more agreeable, but if there were no volunteers we were left with the idea of treating everyone as equals and not having one dominant person. This worked so well that we stuck with it."

"But how did we get from there to where we are today, with hierarchies everywhere?" asked Allan.

"Well, eventually we started to live in larger groups," said Tom. "And they worked just fine, on the same egalitarian basis. But at some point, quite a while after that, a few people realized they could set up a hierarchy with themselves at the top and benefit hugely from opportunities this afforded for exploiting the rest of the population. They justified it by saying the larger group was difficult to manage and required a new, better kind of organization. By the time those at the bottom of the hierarchy realized they'd been had, those at the top had a firm grip on the situation. It was too late to do much about it—the rulers maintained a monopoly on force and violence. About all the common people could do, if they didn't want to go along with it, was to head for the hills. And many did.

"Today, we've all been fed propaganda about how hierarchies and leadership are necessary for efficient organizations, and many people accept that without question. But I think we can see that there are other ways of organizing groups, even large groups, other than feudalism or capitalism. Or feudal capitalism."

"And what specifically might those other ways be?" asked Allan.

"Well, I am an anarchist and an egalitarian," answered Tom, "and I believe strongly in direct democracy, based on consensus decision making. That all fits in well with the mutual aid, sharing and co-operation I was talking about earlier this afternoon."

"You know, Dad," said Allan, "you have a way of packing a whole lot of meaning into a few words. How about unpacking that a bit?"

"OK," Tom said with a wry expression on his face. "I guess that was a mess of buzz words that need further explanation. And some background on how I came to these ideas may be called for as well.

"Abraham Lincoln said that no man is good enough to govern another man without his consent. I would go further and say that no man is good enough to govern another man, period. I have worked for many bosses in large and small organizations, and none of them did a very good job of it. Sometimes that was partly the fault of the individual, but it was always the fault of the system as well. I have been a boss myself and I am no better.

"This isn't easy on the boss either—it's a stressful job. A good leader puts more into it, and it takes more out of him. When he finally packs it in, and he will, you are left with finding a replacement. Remember, I'm 75. Even if I am up to the job, and that's not certain, I've only got a few years left. I have no solution to any of this, except to change the system, and not put an individual in charge.

"To misquote David Graeber, one of my favourite anarchist scholars, 'To understand anarchy you must accept two things: one, that power corrupts and two, that we don't need power—under normal circumstances, people are as reasonable and decent as they are allowed to be and can organize themselves and their communities without being told how. If we take the simple principles of common decency that we already believe we should live by, and follow them through to their logical conclusions, everything will turn out fine.'

"This means that everyone involved must be treated as equal—that's egalitarianism. And direct democracy is when everyone in the community takes part in the decision making process, and decisions are made by discussing things until a consensus is reached."

"Doesn't this take a lot more time than having a leader who the rest of us just follow?" asked Allan.

"It does, somewhat," replied Tom. "but it also results in better decisions, using of all those spare brain cells that would be sitting around unused if we had a single boss, and benefitting from the knowledge and experience of everyone in the group. And when we go to implement the decision, we'll be working together with people who are already convinced that it's the right thing to do. No disgruntled minority working against what's been decided.

"Understand, I am not saying that every last detail must be hashed out in a meeting of the whole group. As I was saying earlier, crews will implement in detail the general decisions of the whole group and deal with the specifics of our day to day operations."

"You really think we'll end up with a net gain using this type of organization?" asked Allan.

"I do," said Tom, "lots of people have used it and with good results. There's another Graeber quote that explains what reaching concensus is really about, 'Consensus isn't just about agreement. It's about changing things around: You get a proposal, you work something out, people foresee problems, you do creative synthesis. At the end of it, you come up with something that everyone thinks is okay. Most people like it, and nobody hates it.'"

"OK, sounds good. But what about leadership," asked Allan, "don't we still need it in some situations?"

"Well, by now, I guess it's obvious that I'm not keen on the very idea of leadership," answered Tom. "I think we should be fiercely proud of not having leaders here.

"But, yes, I'll allow as how there as some situations where it might be beneficial. During emergencies, we should all be prepared to step in and lead if we find ourselves at ground zero—put out the fire, so to speak—then relinquish authority when things are well enough under control for a crew or the collective as a whole to consult and decide what to do long term.

"And there may be room for some different sorts of leadership. The same people who came up with those ideas on group sizes also talk about leadership as hospitality rather than domination. I'm not sure exactly what that means in practice, but it might be worth looking into. On the whole, though, direct democracy should be our thing. The only question is whether we are ready to give it a try. Or more specifically, are you ready?"

"I am still doubtful," said Allan, "but yeah, I'll give it a chance."

"Good," said Tom. "As it happens we have an individual among us who is a trained facilitator, and has some experience in assisting groups with consensus decision making."

"Who's that?" asked Allan.

"Angie Ferguson," replied Tom. In response to Allan's raised eyebrow, he went on, "yeah, I know—she introduces herself as a hair stylist, but before she ran out of money and dropped out of school, she was studying political science. She also took some serious courses on facilitating, and did quite a bit of work as a facilitator. I should have gotten her to help from the start today. When we go back to the house, I will invite her to facilitate the rest of our meeting. Get things going on a better footing, I hope."

"OK, I have to admit I am pretty clueless about this approach," said Allan, "maybe we could arrange for some training?"

"An excellent idea," replied Tom. "And now on to another issue."

Tom turned back to the table and picked up a 13"X19" sheet of glossy paper on which was printed a graphic and some text.

The Porcupine Refuge Co-operative

"What you got there, Dad?" Allan asked.

"Just an idea for a sign to go over our gate, including a name for this place," replied Tom

"Well, we sure as heck need a name," said Allan, "calling it 'this place' is getting lame."

Tom handed him the sheet and he looked it over. "Porcupine Refuge Co-operative, eh?" Allan said, "I get the 'Refuge Co-operative' part, but what's the connection with porcupines, and what's the graphic? It almost looks like a cave painting."

"It is a cave painting," said Tom, "and while there are various theories about what it means, the one I like best is that the guy on the ground with all the arrows sticking out of him—kind of like a porcupine—is an alpha male who just wouldn't take the hint when the other people in the band suggested that he move on. You can see that the others are pretty thrilled about doing him in."

"And this is a reminder to any individual who tries to set themselves above the rest of us here at 'Porcupine'?" asked Allan.

"You got it in one!" Tom said with a smile. "What do you think?"

"Looks good to me," said Allan. "I hope we can reach a consensus on it, eh?"

"Yes indeed," said Tom, "I hope so too. If you and I are good, perhaps we should head back and see if there's any supper left."

"I'm good, and hungry," said Allan. "Lead on."

When they got back to the house, supper was just finishing up. Karen sat them down at one of the big tables in the dining room, in front of plates of spaghetti and meat sauce. "I hope you two have got whatever it was out of your systems," she said.

"Yep," said Tom, "we're feeling much better now. Would you mind asking Angie to join us?"

"Yes sir," Karen said with a mock salute and headed for the addition. She was back in a moment with Angie.

"Hi Angie," said Tom, "I probably should have had you facilitating this meeting from the get go. Allan and I are all sorted out now and we'd like you to take over and facilitate the rest of the meeting. I need to finished my thoughts on ecology and then go on to the next section.

"Well, if all you are going to do is stand there and talk, maybe take a few questions, there won't really be much facilitating to do, will there?" said Angie.

"I'll grant you that," said Tom. "Not at the start, anyway. But I'm going to end up talking about participatory, consensus decision making. After that I'll introduce you. And then I have a suggestion that will spark our first bit of group decision making."

"I guess that might work," said Angie with a frown. After a moment's thought, she switched to a smile, and added, "OK, let's do it. What's this first decision about?"

"An idea for a name and logo for this place," said Tom. "You take over, give me a chance to make my suggestion and then I'll get out of your hair."

"Somehow I doubt that," replied Angie, "but sure."

"OK, we'll just finish eating and then I'll continue where I left off before."

A few minutes later Allan and Tom entered the addition. Allan took his seat at the back next to Erika, and watched Tom continue to the front of the room and pick up his marker.

"He get you straightened out?" Erika whispered in Allan's ear.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what happened," replied Allan.

"I hope you'll excuse the interruption," said Tom, "at least it gave you a chance to have supper. Anyway, I think Allan and I have our differences sorted out now. And he helped me get my thoughts in order for the rest of this."

Tom went on, going over all of what he and Allan had discussed before supper and, in Allan's opinion, doing a better job of making his points than he had the first time through. There were a few questions, but Tom fielded them all with no trouble.

"So, those are my thoughts on how we should run this place," said Tom. "I know I was never officially appointed boss around here, just sort of fell into by virtue of having started things, but at this point I am officially stepping down. This leaves us without a leader and better off for it. But a central role in participatory decision making is that of the facilitator. A facilitator is not a leader or boss, but more of a referee. And we are fortunate to have among us someone who is a trained and experienced in that role. I think you all know or at least have met Angie Ferguson. Angie, why don't you come on up here and take over from me."

Angie came to the front. Tom handed her his marker and then took a seat beside Karen.

"Maybe take over isn't exactly the right word, since I'm not going to be running things either," said Angie with a wink directed at Tom. "But I take your meaning. We really need to arrange some introductory training in this style of decision making for all of you, and also get a few more people trained as facilitators so we can share that duty around and avoid me becoming another de facto boss. We obviously can't do that tonight though. What we can do is discuss an issue Tom wants to bring up. Back to you, Tom."

"Thanks Angie," said Tom, standing up, but pointedly not resuming his former position at the front of the room. "I think we've all noticed that it's getting pretty awkward not having a name to call 'this place'. So, I have a suggestion."

He'd rolled up the big printout and brought it with him, and now he unrolled it and held it up in front of his chest. "The Porcupine Refuge Co-operative is my suggestion, and it comes with a graphic that I think we should paint on a sheet of plywood and mount above our front gate."

"Where the heck does 'porcupine' come from, and how does it relate to that graphic," asked Erika, "or to what we are doing here?"

Tom was a little thrown by this, and hesitated long enough for Angie to step in, "Bet you thought this would be easy, didn't you Tom?" she said with a grin. "You've already explained this to Allan, right? Just share with us what you said to him."

"Allan made it pretty easy on me," said Tom, "easier than his better half is doing, anyway. So, the graphic is a cave painting..."

Coming soon, The Porcupine Saga Part 7, When We Met Jack.


Links to the rest of this series of posts:
The Porcupine Saga

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