Showing posts with label ugo bardi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ugo bardi. Show all posts

Friday, February 12, 2021

Cassandra has Moved

  


Professor Sabine Hossenfelder engages in a performance about Cassandra. Nice song, well sung, and it catches something of Cassandra's story and character. Although I am reasonably sure that Cassandra would not wear that kind of clothes. 


Cassandra's blog is closed. It will remain on line, but it will not be updated anymore. Ugo Bardi has moved to a new site called "The Seneca Effect."  It may be a bit more philosophical than the old Cassandra blog, but it will not be very different. 

You may also follow Ugo Bardi at "The Proud Holobionts" blog, a more optimistic blog dedicated to -- you guess to what! -- holobionts! A new concept that favors collaboration over competition in the evolution of the biosphere. 

And don't forget Ugo Bardis' musings about history and myths at the Chimera blog, with some fictional interpretations of Cassandra's story: An Interview with Cassandra  and "The True Story of the Fall of Troy"

Finally, if you like to hear Ugo Bardi rather than reading what he writes, you can find his youtube channel. It is still al little experimental, but it may grow to something interesting in the future. 

Thank you to all those who followed this blog for nearly ten years. It was a pleasure, but things keep moving and we have to move, too!

UB


Monday, December 16, 2019

Why Collapse is not always a bad thing: the new book by Ugo Bardi


If you wish to receive a review copy or want to interview the author, please contact:
Elizabeth Hawkins | Springer Nature | Communications
tel +49 6221 487 8130 |
elizabeth.hawkins@springer.com  
Press Release
Why collapse is not always a bad thing
New book provides an analysis of the process of failure and collapse, and outlines principles that help us manage these challenges in our lives
Heidelberg | New York, 12 December 2019
Image: © Springer Nature

Everyone experiences collapse in their lives: you may lose your job, get sick, or a close friend or family member may die. Collapse also happens to structures such as buildings, and on a larger scale affects whole systems like companies, communities or even civilisations. In his latest book, Before the Collapse: A Guide to the Other Side of Growth, Ugo Bardi sets out an approach for facing failure and collapse on all scales. He calls his method the “Seneca Strategy” based on the teachings of the ancient Roman philosopher, Lucius Annaeus Seneca.

Bardi draws on Seneca’s philosophy to explain why collapse is a necessary part of our lives and the world, and why trying to avoid it may lead to bigger problems later on. Seneca recognised that growth is slow but ruin is rapid, yet sudden collapse does not have to take us by surprise. In six concise chapters, Bardi outlines the science behind the collapse of complex systems, how the future can be modelled, and gives numerous examples of past and possible future collapses. Some of the cases Bardi lists include natural disasters, like Florence’s Great Flood, the collapse of a business such as the bankruptcy of the video rental service Blockbuster, as well as famines, epidemics and depopulation. As Seneca famously said: “Nothing that exists today is not the result of past collapse.”

Despite the subject matter, Before the Collapse is not a pessimistic book. Although Bardi emphasizes that technological progress might not prevent collapse, he stresses that the best strategy of coping with collapse is not to resist at all costs. It is possible to rebound after collapse, argues Bardi, and the new condition that arises may even be better than the old. The book finishes with a self-help style reference list summarising the six key things we should know before a collapse is imminent.

The practical tips in this book will appeal to any readers seeking a philosophical self-help guide for coping with collapse in their lives. Before the Collapse also provides general readers with a scientific analysis of local and global disasters and offers a pragmatic approach for preparing and weathering difficult times.

About the author

Ugo Bardi teaches physical chemistry at the University of Florence in Italy. He is interested in resource depletion, system dynamics modeling, climate science and renewable energy. He has an English language blog called "Cassandra's legacy" and is also the author of two other books: Extracted: How the Quest for Global Mining Wealth is Plundering the Planet (Chelsea Green 2014) and The Limits to Growth Revisited (Springer 2011).
Further Information
About the book: Before the Collapse
Services for Journalists
Journalists can request an electronic review copy of Before the Collapse
The author is available for interview.
Contact
Elizabeth Hawkins | Springer Nature | Communications
tel +49 6221 487 8130 |
elizabeth.hawkins@springer.com   



















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Monday, April 29, 2019

The Great Fossil Cycle and the Story of a Family

Last week, I published a post on how the economic decline of Italy led me to move to a smaller house, abandoning the mansion that my parents had built during better times. Complementing that post, I thought I could repropose a post I had published in 2017, reproduced here with some minor modifications. You can find more data about the story of the Bardi family on the "Chimeras" blog.



My great-great-grandfather, Ferdinando Bardi. The story of the branch of the Bardi family to which I belong is inextricably linked to the great world cycle of the fossil fuels. (this painting was made by Ferdinando's son, Antonio)


There was a time, long ago, when the Bardis of Florence were rich and powerful, but that branch of the family disappeared with the end of the Renaissance. The most remote ancestors of mine that I can track were living during the early 19th century and they were all poor, probably very poor. But their life was to change with the great fossil revolution that had started in England in the 18th century. The consequences were to spill over to Italy in the centuries that followed.

My great-great-grandfather Ferdinando (born in 1822) lived in an age when coal was just starting to become commonplace and people would still use whale oil to light up their homes. He was a soldier in the infantry of the Grand-Duke of Tuscany and then of the King of Italy, when Tuscany merged into the newly formed Kingdom of Italy, in 1861. The family lore says that Ferdinando fought with Garibaldi in Southern Italy, but there is no trace of him in the records as a volunteer of Garibaldi's army. He may have fought there with the regular army, though. In his portrait, we can see the medals that he gained. Today, I still have the ribbons, the medals were lost during the 2nd world war when they were given to "the country" to support the war effort.

Despite the medals, there is little doubt that Ferdinando was poor; his condition is described as "dire poverty" in some documents we still have. But things were changing and the conditions of the Bardi family would change, too. The coal revolution had made Northern Europe rich. England had built a World Empire using coal, France had its revolution and Napoleon, and the industrial age had started. Italy had no significant coal resources but coal could be imported from England and that changed many things. Tuscany was slowly building up a certain degree of prosperity based on a rapidly developing industry and on a flow of tourism from Northern Europe that, already at that time, had Florence as a favorite destination.

That had consequences on the life of Florentines. Antonio Bardi (1862 - 1924), Ferdinando's son and my great-grandfather, was little more than a street urchin when he was befriended by a "gentleman in the service of the Emperor of Brazil," then visiting Florence. It may have happened in 1877 and some of the newspapers of that time report the story of how this gentleman, whose name was "Pedro Americo," paid for the studies of this boy in whom he had somehow noticed a special artistic talent. The papers of that time don't seem to have considered the implications (obvious for us, today) involved in the story of a mature and rich gentleman befriending a poor boy, but those were different times. In any case, Antonio started a career as a painter.

That such a career was possible for Antonio was due to tourism becoming more and more common in Florence. Tourism had not just brought there the Emperor of Brazil, but a continuous flow of foreign tourists interested in ancient paintings and works of art. Color photography didn't exist at that time and this led to a brisk market of hand-made reproduction of ancient masterpieces. These reproductions were especially prized if they were made by Florentine artists, in some ways supposed to maintain the genetic imprint of the people who had created the originals. So, the main art galleries of Florence would allow local artists to set up their easels in their rooms and they would later provide them with a stamp on their canvases guaranteeing that it was "painted from the original". It seems to have been a rather diffuse occupation and, already at that time, Florentines were adapting to the opportunities that the world changes were offering to them. My aunt Renza, grand-daughter of Antonio, was still doing the same job -- making copies of paintings from the originals -- in the 1930s.

Some of the paintings of Antonio Bardi are still kept by his descendants and, for what I can say, he seems to have been a skilled painter with a special ability with portraits. But he never was very successful in this career: Florence was not Paris, it was a backwater of Europe and there were little chances for artists to become rich and famous there. As he got old, Antonio developed health problems with his eyes and he couldn't paint anymore, so he moved to a job as a guardsman. Still, he had escaped the poverty trap that had affected his ancestors. Many other Florentines of that time were doing the same, although in different ways. From our viewpoint, Tuscany in the 19th century was still a desperately poor place, but its economy was rapidly growing as a result of the ongoing coal age. That opened up opportunities that had never existed before.

My grandfather, Raffaello Bardi, was born in 1892. His instruction was limited but he could read and write and perhaps he attended a professional school. When he was drafted for the Great War, he had a hard time with the defeat of the Italian Army at Caporetto, in 1917, but he managed to get back home, all in one piece. There, he married Rita, a Florentine seamstress, and he found a job in a Swiss company that had established a branch in Florence and that manufactured straw hats, exporting them all over the world.

There were reasons for that Swiss company to exist and to be located in Florence. One was the tradition of making straw hats in Tuscany: it had started already during the 18th century. Another was that the Italian economy in the 20th century was rapidly growing. Many Italian regions were playing the role that today is played by Eastern European countries or South-Asian ones. They were being colonized by North European companies as sources of cheap labor. Tuscany had a well developed hydroelectric energy system and could offer a skilled workforce. Swiss, German, and British companies were flocking there to establish profitable branches for their businesses.

That was the opportunity that my grandfather exploited. He was only a modest employee in the company where he worked but he could afford a lifestyle that his ancestors couldn't even have dreamed of. In 1922, he bought a nice home for his family in the suburbs. It was no mansion, but a step forward in comparison to the small apartments where the Bardi family had been living before. It had a garden, three bedrooms, a modern bathroom, and it could lodge my grandparents, their four children, and the additional son they had adopted: a nephew who had been orphaned when his parents had died because of the Spanish flu, in 1919.  Raffaello could also afford to take his family on vacation at the seaside for about one month every summer. He could send his sons to college, although not his daughters; women were still not supposed to study in those times.

There came the Fascist government, the great crash of 1929, and the 2nd world war. Hard times for everyone but this branch of the Bardi family suffered no casualties nor great disasters. Raffaello's home also survived the allied bombing raids, even though a few steel splinters hit the outer walls. With the end of the war, the Italian economy experienced a period of growth so rapid that it was termed the "economic miracle". It was no miracle but the consequence of crude oil being cheap and easily available. The Italian industry boomed, and with it tourism.

During this period, the Italian labor was not anymore so cheap as it had been in earlier times. The activity of manufacturing straw hats was taken over by Chinese firms and the Swiss company in which my grandfather had worked closed down. Still, there was a brisk business in importing Chinese-made hats in Florence, adding to them some hand-made decoration and selling the result as "Florentine hats."  One of my aunts, Renza, continued to manage a cottage industry that did exactly that. My other aunt, Anna, the youngest of the family, tried to follow the footprints of her grandfather, Antonio, and to work as a painter but she was not very successful. Tourism was booming, but people were not anymore interested in hand-made reproductions of ancient masterpieces.

For my father, Giuliano, and my uncle, Antonio, both graduated in architecture, the booming Italian economy offered good opportunities. The period from the 1950s to the early 1970s was probably the richest period enjoyed by Italy in modern times and the moment of highest prosperity for the members of the Bardi family in Florence. All my relatives of that generation were rather well-off as employees or professionals. Their families were mostly organized according to the breadwinner/housewife model: even a single salary was sufficient for a comfortable life. My mother was an exception: like my father, she had graduated in architecture and worked as a high-school teacher.

Most of the Bardis of this generation could afford to own their homes and, in most cases, also a vacation home in the mountains or on the seaside (also here, my family was somewhat an exception, preferring a single, larger home on the hills). They also owned at least one car, often two when their wives learned how to drive. On the average, the education level had progressed: some of the wives attended college. Few of the people of that generation could speak any language but Italian and very few had traveled outside Italy, even though some of my uncles had fought in North Africa.

Then, there came the crisis of the 1970s. In Italy, it was normally defined as the "congiuntura economica" a term that indicated that it was just something temporary, a hiccup that was soon to be forgotten as growth was to restart. It never did. It was the start of the great oil crisis that had started with the peaking of the US oil production. The consequences were reverberating all over the world. It was in this condition that my generation came of age.

Our generation was perhaps the most schooled one in the history of Italy. Many of us had acceded to high university education; we traveled abroad, we all studied English, even though we were not all necessarily proficient in it. But, when we tried to sell our skills in the labor market, it was a tough time. We were clearly over skilled for the kind of jobs that were available in Italy and many of us had to use again the strategy of our ancestors of old, emigrating toward foreign countries. It was the start of what we call today the "brain drain".

I moved to the US for a while. I could have stayed there but I found a decent position with the University of Florence and I came back. Maybe I did well, maybe not, it is hard to say. Some people of my age followed the same path. Some moved to foreign countries and stayed there, others came back to Italy. Some worked as employees, set up their own companies, opened up shops, they tried what they could with various degrees of success. One thing was sure: our life was way more difficult than it had been for our fathers and grandfathers. Of course, we were not as poor as our ancestors had been in the early 19th century, but supporting a family on a single salary had become nearly unthinkable. None of us could have afforded to own a home, hadn't we inherited the homes of our parents. Fortunately, families were now much smaller and we didn't have to divide these properties among too many heirs.

There came the end of the 20th century and of the 2nd millennium as well. Another generation came of age and they faced difficult times again. They were badly over skilled, as we had been, perhaps even more internationalized than we were; perfect candidates for the brain drain trend. My son followed my example, moving to a foreign country to work; maybe he'll come back as I did, maybe not. My daughter still has to find a decent job: it is very hard, today. The oil crisis faded, then returned. The global peak of oil production ("peak oil") was closer and closer. The Italian economy went up and down but, on the average, down. It was a system that could grow only with low oil prices and the period of high prices that started in the early 2000s was a hard blow for Italy, causing the start of a de-industrialization trend that's still ongoing.

Only agriculture and tourism are still doing well in Italy. That's especially true for Florence, a town that went through a long-term cycle that transformed it from a sleepy provincial town into a sort of giant food court. Tourists are still flocking to Florence in ever-increasing numbers, but they don't seem to be so much interested in art anymore; their focus today seems to be food. It is for this reason that, today, almost everyone I know who is under 30 is either unemployed or working in restaurants, bars, or hotels.

People in Italy keep adapting to changing times as they have always done, everywhere in the world. It is hard to say what the future will bring to us, but one thing is certain: the great cycle of the fossil fuels is waning. The hard times are coming back.

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Adrastia interviews Ugo Bardi






The French Association "Adrastia" has been interested enough in my modest work that they asked me a series of questions. The original interview was in French, here is the text, kindly translated into English by Florence Mitchell.









Ugo Bardi is a researcher and Professor in Chemistry. He contributes to The Oil Drum, is a member of the scientific committee of the Association for the Study of Peak Oil and Gas (ASPO) and author of several books, including one on energy and mineral resources (The Limits to Growth Revisited).


Our sincere thanks to Mr. Bardi for agreeing to talk to us.

Adrastia: You have built a theory called The Seneca Cliff. It revisits the Hubbert peak and bell curve though in this case its descent is much steeper than its ascent. Originally this curve applied to oil production. Could you explain in what way it applies to many other key factors of our civilisation?

Ugo Bardi: The point of the Seneca Cliff is clear to most of us: many things go down faster than they went up. Just think of a house of cards, for instance. It’s one of those obvious things which happen to be not easy to explain according to the fundamentals laws of physics. In Newton’s time, for instance, everyone knew that apples fell from trees, but the law of universal gravity had yet to be discovered. With the Seneca Cliff we are still in what we could call a ‘pre-Newtonian situation’. Roughly speaking, the curve is observed in systems where there is a kind of correlation between their constituents. It is a ‘‘collective phenomenon’’ typical of systems that are described as complex, for example at times of rapid collective changes in phase transitions, but also in the mechanics of the breakdown of materials, and also when civilisations collapse. Systems are always complex when the internal elements are inter-correlated. Let’s say that if one likes the theory of networks as well as system dynamics modeling there is much fun to be had with them. In fact, it’s so much fun that I am working on a book which will be called The Seneca Cliff and which I hope to publish before the end of the year – perhaps…


A: What do you think are the weak points of our civilisation, its main vulnerabilities? If there was to be a collapse what would you see as the first chain of events typical of the phenomenon? And do you have a sense of what will then happen as resources get depleted and the climate goes awry?

U. B.: I have thought quite a bit about these issues, and I find the study of the theory of networks combined with system dynamics modeling very helpful. When I started working on this topic, I thought that the depletion of resources might be the main reason why civilisations collapse. I still think that might be the case, just as it might also be the case that civilisations have been destroyed by outside forces such as climate change or military invasions. But it seems to me that very often something more subtle may be going on: it’s loss of control which leads to the collapse of civilisations. A civilisation is a system made up of elements that are closely linked, and their correlation has to be controlled in one way or another. Besides, the control mechanism needs resources, and if fewer resources are available there may be loss of control leading in turn to a risk of collapse, even before the exhaustion of resources or climate change brings about this result.


A: You have named your blog Cassandra’s Legacy. Do you get the impression that you’re not heard?

U.B.: Never… How could you possibly think such a thing?! (smile)


A: How did you come to the realisation that our civilisation is reaching the end of the road? Do you remember a particular moment when your conscience reached a tipping point?

U.B.: Yes, definitely. On September 11 I was in the States, in Berkeley, and I saw the Twin Towers collapse on TV. That same morning, in quite a state, I went for a walk, and in a bookshop in Berkeley I found a book called The Hubbert Peak, written by the American geologist Kenneth Deffeyes (who I later got to know personally). These two events, the book and the New York attacks, seemed to me to be correlated that day, even though I couldn’t quite explain it to myself. It was later that I realised how they were indeed connected.


A.: How do you deal with this theory of collapse that we are going to experience – that we are already experiencing in some ways – when it comes to those around you, your family and friends, who don’t have the same awareness or may even reject the theory? Very generally, what impact has it had on your social interaction, and how do you live with the knowledge?

U.B.: People often ask me this. I am not sure I have an answer, but one thing is obvious to me: “catastrophists” (and I am one of them) are not unhappier in their daily life than “cornucopians”. I should add that the risks that we, the catastrophists, see coming in the future mean that we also take a rather philosophical approach to the world and we have a strong urge to take action. It’s the very same vision that the “Stoics” had, Seneca being one of them. It’s a philosophical vision which emerges in difficult times. Japanese Samurais used to practise a very similar philosophy to Stoicism, I believe. A good Stoic (or a good Samurai) knows his limits, but he also knows he has a duty to act or to fight for the general good. Nowadays, of course, we don’t use a sword in our daily life, although I am learning Japanese swordsmanship, as well as traditional archery. You never know…


A: Do you talk about these issues with your children, who will have to face these difficult and possibly dangerous times to come? If so, how do you broach the topic?

U.B.: This is the hardest thing. I think it’s not for me to push my children (they are grown-up now) towards my own vision of the world. They have the right and the ability to develop their own vision. And I believe they are well adjusted to a world which is becoming more and more difficult, especially for young people.


A: Many members of the Adrastia association are literally consumed by the issue of the end of the industrial and fossil-fuel civilisation, to such a point that they think of nothing else. Is it a kind of obsession for you, and if so, how do you cope?

U.B.: It may be so. There is a risk that one’s ideas become an obsession but, in my experience, one can’t do for long: it’s too stressful. People forget and go back to watching TV. It’s normal, it’s human. In my case, I have other interests which prevent me, I hope, from turning my life into a catastrophist saga! (I’ve written a sci-fi novel, for example. It’s a bit catastrophist, I have to admit…)


A: Do you already have a clear idea of how you are going to live through this period of energy decline? How are you preparing for it? Are you ready to live without oil?

U. B.: One makes long-term predictions that often turn out to be correct, but it’s difficult to translate them into daily life, very difficult. One thing I have learned is that the future is never what you expect, so you get there, I think, by following a long winding path that you create one step at a time.


A: Do you belong to a group, collective, association or NGO aiming to lay the foundations of resilience, even autonomy (local energy transition, alternative currencies, permaculture…)? How do you view these initiatives, and what would you recommend to individuals or groups who want to prepare themselves?

U.B.: These are interesting things which I have tried to put into practice several times. At the moment I think my job is above all to communicate certain ideas, and that’s what I am doing. I am privileged to have been able to focus on those things which I believe are the right things to do. It’s a privilege, I know. If I was unable to do this, I would surely be more active in the local community, in the Transition Town Movement or similar movements. In the future, I might possibly be more involved in this kind of activity.


A: You travel on a regular basis to give talks, and your books are translated in several languages. Among the countries or regions you have visited, are you aware of major cultural differences – in nature or degree – in the way that people tackle the notion of collapse, in their individual or collective awareness, or the way they listen to your message?

U.B.: In the West (Western Europe and the United States) I don’t notice many differences: in many places in these countries there is a fraction of the population that is aware of certain problems and tries to work on them. But, of course, I am rarely invited to those countries where these problems are not at all understood. For instance, it seems to me extremely difficult to convey certain ideas in Eastern European countries and especially in Russia. It seems that in Russia the idea that mineral resources are destined to become exhausted at some point is seen as a form of Western propaganda against Russia and its vast mineral resources. And they won’t be taken in, will they? They aren’t stupid… What is to be done? I don’t know. In fact, nothing changes; governments in the West and the East are doing the same thing and couldn’t care less about catastrophist forecasts. It’s well known throughout history: human societies are not very good at managing the future. And, by the way, that’s why I called my blog “Cassandra’s legacy”!


A: In the face of environmental constraints which we understand better these days, and in view of the considerable research in neuroscience which challenges our usual definition of personal freedom, do you think we could have chosen to avoid the risks? Is mankind inevitably headed towards a tragic destiny that it won’t be able to escape?

U.B.: Clearly it’s extremely difficult to convey messages that are perceived as “catastrophist”. Climate change is a good example: it’s a horrific message to be giving. We are really talking about the possibility of an end to mankind and maybe life on earth. It’s understandable that instead of listening to the message, many people prefer to flee with their hands over their ears while singing “la-la-la!”. We’re dealing, obviously, with the limits of human intelligence. How could we do better than that? Many people have tried to find an answer in neuroscience, others in philosophy, in religion, or even in slightly esoteric fields like “memetics”. Finding the answer proves to be very difficult, if not completely impossible. The only thing we can say is that the future will surprise us. We have arrived here after a journey of some ten thousand years, through the Holocene period. We are only starting to understand the huge transformations that human beings have gone through, thanks to developments and changes during this period which are not only cultural but also genetic. Mankind, hopefully, still has several thousands of years to adapt, and this in a world of constant change. The evolution of mankind is probably far from over. Where this evolution will take us, it’s impossible to say at this point. But evolving means adapting, and the theorists of infinite growth are clearly ill-adapted to the future – they are bound to disappear. In the future, we won’t be able to bypass the need to adapt to a finite world.



Monday, June 16, 2014

"Extracted": the movie



Credits: Babylonia-Brussels, Dianna Rienstra, Daphne Davies, the staff of the Club of Rome, and several more people. The book "Extracted" is available from Chelsea Green



Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Why we will never run out of oil: an interview with professor Ugo Bardi




Today, this blog is proud to present in exclusive worldwide the transcript of an interview that Professor Ugo Bardi, the author of the book "Extracted," granted to the Ronkonkoma (*) Radio Station, Long Island, New York. 


- First of all, professor Bardi, thank you for accepting to speak to Ronkonkoma Radio. 

- It is a pleasure.

- So, before going on with the interview, a brief presentation for our listeners. Professor Ugo Bardi teaches at the university of Florence, in Italy, and he is well known for his studies on mineral resources and in particular on crude oil. About his work, we came to know that he recently obtained a major research grant from a large oil company. Is it true, professor?

- Yes, I can confirm that I received a grant, although I cannot disclose the name of the company.

- So, congratulations, professor. Do I understand correctly that this grant allowed you to make a major discovery in the field of oil production trends?

It is correct. It is a new model that I developed on the basis of some highly sophisticated mathematical methods to describe the future production of crude oil.

- And it led to you to the conclusion that we will never run out of oil?

- Basically, yes.

- I understand that the mathematics involved in the model is very complex, but could you describe your results in a simple way to our listeners?

- I think I can. So, think about this: before you run out of all of the oil you have, you have to use half of it, right?

- Yes.

- Now, if you have used half of your oil, it means that you are left with half of it. Is it right?

- Of course.

- Then, before you consume that half which is left, you have to consume half of that half, right?

- I think I can follow your logic, professor......

- And then, there will be another half, and then another, and so on.....

- That means we'll never run of oil, I guess.

- You have it.

- You know, professor, your model reminds me of something I studied in high school, something that involved a turtle and someone running after it; I don't remember his name.

- Oh, well, it is a remote origin of this model. Indeed, sometimes my students call it the "Achilles and the Turtle" model.

- But, professor, there is something that bothers me about all this. I understand your point, but as we divide our oil in half over and over, doesn't that mean we'll have less and less of it?

- No.... not at all.

- But why?

- Well, you should understand the mathematics of the model but, again, I can explain it in a simple way for our listeners. Let me go back to what I was saying. You have this oil, think of dividing it in two equal parts. Then you go on and you use the first half. You follow me?

- Yes. 

- Then you are left with the other half, correct?

- Correct.

- So, it makes no difference: you have the same amount of oil as before. Then, what's the problem?

- You know, professor, your logic is overwhelming, but I must confess that am a little confused.

- Well, I understand that, the mathematics involved is highly complex, indeed. But the end result is simple. You always have oil and you can produce as much of it as you like. There is just a little detail to consider. You have to invest more in extraction as you have less of it.

 - Doesn't that mean we have to pay more for oil?

- Yes, you have this minor inconvenience.

- I see..... Professor, something made me think again of that grant from an oil company. Could you tell us the amount of money your received?

- I am sorry, I cannot disclose that.

- So, thank you very much, professor Bardi, for being with us for this interview with radio Ronkonkoma, New York. Now a little break. 








(*) If you wonder about the name "Ronkonkoma" - it is a place that exists (and it even has a radio station). I used the name in this post because I lived in that area back in the 1970s





Sunday, November 20, 2011

The empty Earth

And here is my new book, just published on Nov 15th. The Italian title sounds like, "The Emptied Earth", but in English it sounds better to me as, "The empty Earth." In any case, I think you can imagine from the title what the book is about. It is the history of mining on this planet; it starts from the first flint mines dug in limestone more than 10,000 years ago, arriving the modern mining rush that is, literally, emptying the earth of its mineral treasures accumulated over billions of years of geological activity.

I am sorry that most of you won't be able to read this version, but I am working at an edition in English planned for March of next year (not the same book, it will be a version reworked for the international readership). For those of you who can read Italian, you can find a description of the book at the site of the Editor and also on my Italian blog.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Peak oil people



Some time ago, Colin Campbell had the idea of collecting the biographies of people who had worked on Peak Oil with ASPO. The result is this book which was recently published in Ireland. It contains also the biography of yours truly; Ugo Bardi. I don't know how interesting you could find it, anyway it is there. Here is the link

Who

Ugo Bardi is a member of the Club of Rome, faculty member of the University of Florence, and the author of "Extracted" (Chelsea Green 2014), "The Seneca Effect" (Springer 2017), and Before the Collapse (Springer 2019)