Saturday, 20 June 2026

The Europe 2031 Scenario: One-Dimensional Thinking

 

Projecting present trends into the future is always a hazardous process, beset with pitfalls and misassumptions. However, at no time in recent history has it been more necessary to consider where the human race is heading in the near future. If we can orientate ourselves and anticipate change, perhaps we can cope with it--or fight back.

It is assumed that profound changes will very quickly be caused by the rise of artificial intelligence. This may not have much of an effect on the two-thirds of a billion people who have no access to electricity, or the 1.8 billion whose access is limited. The website Europe2031.ai conceptualises the matter as a race to create, implement and above all own new technology, in which it is hypothesised that Europe will be crushed by the USA and China. Perhaps, but the reasoning behind this controversial scenario is very one-dimensional.

The originators of the scenario would do well to read the short story The Machine Stops, which E.M. Forster wrote in 1909. This work is almost a self-fulfilling prophecy. More than a century later, it gets more and more relevant every day.

In 1997 the sociologist Henry Quarantelli wrote, very perceptively, that technology leads a double life: that which its makers intended and that which they didn't intend. His observation was amply borne out by social media, which changed their complexion very substantially from the period of their birth in the 2000s to the present day, when much of what they purvey is toxic and harmful.

The objections to artificial intelligence are well known, especially its horrendous impact upon vulnerable environments as a result of its excessive demand for energy and water and its tendency to command unacceptable proportions of world resources. Yet even if these problems are eventually solved, there remains one that is potentially greater. For whom is AI working? The signs are that it could become a weapon against the common people, their needs and desires.

In the 21st century capitalism is failing to provide for human needs. It fuels wars, perpetuates and increases inequality, wrecks the natural environment, channels human aspirations into unethical ventures and sows discontent and maladjustment. One could go so far as to argue that the biggest problem the world faces are billionaires (and the one trillionaire), whose very existence is absolutely unethical. Oligarchy and the misappropriation of power are very large obstacles to progress.

So will artificial intelligence make Europe poor and the USA and China rich and successful? To argue such a case, as Europe2031 does, is facile in the extreme. To begin with, we do not yet know what the main unanticipated consequences of AI will be, but the bigger the technology, the greater the opportunities to subvert it. Secondly, it is not clear whether AI will solve more problems than it will create. It could be an extremely powerful force for 'dumbing down' populations and making the malleable (see Forster's 1909 story for an exploration of this). Yet if this occurs, there will inevitably be a reaction and we will have to see how strong it is and what form it takes.

I believe the consensus among philosophers is that machines do not think and will never do so. They parrot and they follow their own algorithms. These may be immensely powerful, but there is something in the human spirit that cannot be replicated. Readers with a religious bent are bound to agree with me, yet even atheists can readily accept this statement. I am not arguing that AI is worthless, but its value is very definitely constrained. It may also be constrained, and perhaps heavily so, by its drawbacks.

This brings us back to the question of electricity. 'Black-sky thinking' reminds us that power blackouts are not uncommon and not restricted to countries that have precarious electricity distribution systems. Artificial intelligence works well until the current is switched off: a simple but effective means of curbing its excesses.

In conclusion, if we want to make a scenario of what the future of AI will look like, we need to cast our net wide. There are many reasons why reliance on technology is unwise. Examples of how the 'technofix' has failed are legion. The question then becomes one of working out why the failures occurred, and the answer is seldom, if ever, a purely technical one. Hence, we wait to see what they dark side of AI produces.

The parallels between the current state of the USA and the decline and fall of the Roman Empire are eerily strong. As Mark Twain remarked, history does not repeat itself, but it definitely rhymes. The present story of artificial intelligence is one of excesses, of investments and initiatives that ignore the true state of the world; replicans mundi vanitatis.

Wednesday, 18 February 2026

Reflections on Fifteen Years Since the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami

 

A large disaster is a major milestone in the life of survivors. Indeed, for some it is the defining point of their lives thereafter. Fifteen years have passed since the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami (GEJET). Making use of the perspective of time, this is a good moment to take stock of the impact of this extraordinary event and the response to and recovery from it.

Few naturally-generated impacts in recent history have been as destructive and all-enveloping as GEJET. Until the arrival of Covid-19, GEJET was regarded as the "mother of all cascading disasters". It involved sudden destruction on an enormous scale. It was a burden of cost for the whole of Japan (the estimated economic damage amounted to over US$300 billion, making it the costliest natural hazard impact in history). It was a searing reminder of the power of nature and the impermanence of life. It was also a disaster of extraordinary complexity.

Japan has a very high demand for electrical power but only limited primary resources that can satisfy it. One of the two greatest steps in the cascade resulting from the events of "3-11" (2011) was the nuclear radiation release from Fukushima Dai'ichi. There is an ongoing problem of decontamination in the northeast of Fukushima Prefecture. Forest and woodland, for example, cannot be decontaminated without removing all the vegetation, an impossible task that would cause further environmental devastation. Translocation of contaminated forest materials threatens decontaminated land with radioactive recontamination. There is a very difficult problem of what to do with low-level radioactive waste derived from the decontamination efforts, much of which is stockpiled in mounds of large bags corralled in open fields.

Under normal circumstances, decommissioning of a nuclear plant can take up to a century, and it involves the problem, which no country has yet solved, of what to do with high-level radioactive waste in the long term. Release of water containing tritium into the Pacific Ocean is, by the way, something of a non-problem. Everything on Earth is radioactive: we need to concentrate on managing radioactivity that is definitely harmful. The intensity of activity at Fukushima Dai-ichi (where 4,000 people work around the clock), amid the constant search for novel solutions, means that the time to completion of the decommissioning will be relatively short, but still a matter of at least three decades, and still leaving residual problems of what to do with radioactive waste of various kinds and strengths.

Evidence from other nuclear plants shows that Japan now has the most stringent safety measures of any country that possesses nuclear reactors. Among these measures there are checks, balances and redundancy in abundance. For example, at Onagawa nuclear power plant in Miyagi Prefecture, 4000 people worked for 14 years to improve safety and security before electricity production could be restarted. In 2025 one reactor was finally brought on line. These works, necessary though they are, must drive up the unit cost of electricity produced by nuclear fission to unprecedented levels.

The enormous cost of rectifying the damage caused by GEJET, indemnifying survivors and victims and providing future security has led to permanent increases in income tax in Japan. This is a sign, and perhaps a rather painful one, that disasters impinge upon everyone's life, and that they create problems that can neither be avoided nor ignored.  Expenditure in the wake of GEJET led to some rather particular developments. First, there was an unwritten compact with survivors rendered homeless by the disaster that they would endure the rigours of temporary housing for no more than seven years before permanent solutions would be provided. Reconstruction was largely completed in that period. Rarely, if ever, has a major disaster led to such rapid remediation, which is a tribute to the determination and high levels of organisation of Japanese planners and builders. Nevertheless, a note of caution is warranted. Very rapid reconstruction has a tendency to shift some problems to an unknown point in the future, rather than solving them at the opportune time.

Secondly, the desire to provide physical protection against future tsunamis led to unprecedented levels of environmental modification. The scale of this depended on assessments of what was the most opportune size of tsunami to protect against. "Three-eleven" was a millennial event. Raising walls against a phenomenon likely to occur once in a thousand years is not practicable, from engineering, investment and environmental viewpoints. Protection could, however, be provided against events with a 100 or 200-year recurrence interval, and especially against 'near-field' tsunamis that offer little advance warning.

The system of sea walls constructed after GEJET is extensive and imposing. It offers visible protection but it has drawbacks. One is the high degree of modification of valued coastal environments. Another is the tendency of sea walls to pond inland flood water. At Miyako, in Iwate Prefecture east of Morioka, the effects of the tsunami were particularly dramatic. Now, a four-metre high impenetrable sea wall separates the port area from the town. It is an aesthetic disaster, but perhaps it symbolises the tension between those who would preserve natural environments and those (particularly the elderly) who demand tangible protection against tsunamis at all costs. Given the trauma of GEJET, one cannot point the finger of accusation at those who want the best available protection in order to lead a peaceful and secure life.

The response to GEJET was not to build with nature but to build against it, a paradox in a country that has a special reverence for the natural environment. This poses the question of how are we to cohabit with disasters? The standard answer is by a mixture of resistance (i.e., hardening, or in other words building defences) and adaptation (i.e., modifying our risk-taking behaviour). However, it is recognised that there are constraints, principally economic, political and perceptual ones. Not all choices are compatible.

Before GEJET only nine per cent of Japanese coastal municipalities had viable evacuation plans. During the tsunami of 2011 there were successes and failures in evacuation, the latter particularly tragic. There are now significant improvements in warning, emergency planning and emergency management at all levels from national to local. One effect of this is that there is more concern for the plight of people with disabilities in disaster than there was 15 years ago.

We are living through a period of such rapid, or even abrupt, and profound change that the past is no longer a reliable guide to the future. However, this does not invalidate the lessons of history. Japan shows us the importance of memory, memorialisation and commemoration of major adverse events. The prototypes can be found in the monuments in Tokyo to the Kanto earthquake of 1923 and in Hiroshima to the tragedy of 1945. The memorialisation of disaster gives us a reminder of the impermanence of life on Earth, the value of safety and the need not to forget our history, including its negative side. Rather than breaking down society, disaster can bring people and communities together. It is important to remember the self-sacrifice of those who worked tirelessly to restore order and safety to people and places that had been devastated by disaster. We should also remember the very human reactions of people who lived through that tragedy. Above all, we should learn from such events in order to be safer and more prepared in the future.

Among the events that have followed GEJET, the earthquake and tsunami  of 1st January 2024 on the Noto Peninsula stand out. Damage to infrastructure was so great and so widespread, and weather conditions were so adverse, that it was a major challenge to bring rescue and relief to the survivors. There was also a sense of financial exhaustion after the huge cost of restoring environments on the other side of the country after GEJET. All governments face the difficult decision of how much to spend on the problem of disasters, given that economics have to deal with many demands upon national resources. In the case of GEJET vast expenditures on housing, infrastructure and physical protection against future disasters were made in places that had been losing population and economic vitality. There are open questions about how successful attempts to revitalise marginal areas after disaster are likely to be successful, given broader issues such as an ageing population and a continuing drift to the cities.

 To conclude, we are living through a new world disorder occasioned by the abandonment of post-1945 rules and internationalism and the increasing impact of new forms of technology, with which humanity has not yet learned to live. GEJET gave rise to a vast and continuing scientific and research output (overshadowed only by Covid). It is important that we make full use of the research results wherever they offer the opportunity to improve living conditions and safety. We are all at risk of disaster but we can all contribute to reducing that risk.