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  Charcoal production in Brazil. Photo by Franz Lanting/Getty
  Essay/
  Environmental history

  Charcoal production in Brazil. Photo by Franz Lanting/Getty

Out of the ashes

It took a lot of fossil fuels to forge our industrial world. Now they’re
almost gone. Could we do it again without them?

  Lewis Dartnell

  Charcoal production in Brazil. Photo by Franz Lanting/Getty

  [11]Lewis Dartnell
  is a UK Space Agency research fellow at the University of Leicester,
  working in astrobiology and the search for microbial life on Mars. His
  latest book is The Knowledge: How to Rebuild Our World from Scratch
  (2014). He lives in London.

  3,200 words

  Edited by [12]Ed Lake
  Syndicate this Essay

Aeon for Friends

  [13]Find out more

  Imagine that the world as we know it ends tomorrow. There’s a global
  catastrophe: a pandemic virus, an asteroid strike, or perhaps a nuclear
  holocaust. The vast majority of the human race perishes. Our
  civilisation collapses. The post-apocalyptic survivors find themselves
  in a devastated world of decaying, deserted cities and roving gangs of
  bandits looting and taking by force.

  Bad as things sound, that’s not the end for humanity. We bounce back.
  Sooner or later, peace and order emerge again, just as they have time
  and again through history. Stable communities take shape. They begin
  the agonising process of rebuilding their technological base from
  scratch. But here’s the question: how far could such a society rebuild?
  Is there any chance, for instance, that a post-apocalyptic society
  could reboot a technological civilisation?

  Let’s make the basis of this thought experiment a little more specific.
  Today, we have already consumed the most easily drainable crude oil
  and, particularly in Britain, much of the shallowest, most readily
  mined deposits of coal. Fossil fuels are central to the organisation of
  modern industrial society, just as they were central to its
  development. Those, by the way, are distinct roles: even if we could
  somehow do without fossil fuels now (which we can’t, quite), it’s a
  different question whether we could have got to where we are without
  ever having had them.

  So, would a society starting over on a planet stripped of its fossil
  fuel deposits have the chance to progress through its own Industrial
  Revolution? Or to phrase it another way, what might have happened if,
  for whatever reason, the Earth had never acquired its extensive
  underground deposits of coal and oil in the first place? Would our
  progress necessarily have halted in the 18th century, in a
  pre-industrial state?

  It’s easy to underestimate our current dependence on fossil fuels. In
  everyday life, their most visible use is the petrol or diesel pumped
  into the vehicles that fill our roads, and the coal and natural gas
  which fire the power stations that electrify our modern lives. But we
  also rely on a range of different industrial materials, and in most
  cases, high temperatures are required to transform the stuff we dig out
  of the ground or harvest from the landscape into something useful. You
  can’t smelt metal, make glass, roast the ingredients of concrete, or
  synthesise artificial fertiliser without a lot of heat. It is fossil
  fuels – coal, gas and oil – that provide most of this thermal energy.

  In fact, the problem is even worse than that. Many of the chemicals
  required in bulk to run the modern world, from pesticides to plastics,
  derive from the diverse organic compounds in crude oil. Given the
  dwindling reserves of crude oil left in the world, it could be argued
  that the most wasteful use for this limited resource is to simply burn
  it. We should be carefully preserving what’s left for the vital
  repertoire of valuable organic compounds it offers.

  But my topic here is not what we should do now. Presumably everybody
  knows that we must transition to a low-carbon economy one way or
  another. No, I want to answer a question whose interest is (let’s hope)
  more theoretical. Is the emergence of a technologically advanced
  civilisation necessarily contingent on the easy availability of ancient
  energy? Is it possible to build an industrialised civilisation without
  fossil fuels? And the answer to that question is: maybe – but it would
  be extremely difficult. Let’s see how.

  We’ll start with a natural thought. Many of our alternative energy
  technologies are already highly developed. Solar panels, for example,
  represent a good option today, and are appearing more and more on the
  roofs of houses and businesses. It’s tempting to think that a rebooted
  society could simply pick up where we leave off. Why couldn’t our
  civilisation 2.0 just start with renewables?

  Well, it could, in a very limited way. If you find yourself among the
  survivors in a post-apocalyptic world, you could scavenge enough
  working solar panels to keep your lifestyle electrified for a good long
  while. Without moving parts, photovoltaic cells require little
  maintenance and are remarkably resilient. They do deteriorate over
  time, though, from moisture penetrating the casing and from sunlight
  itself degrading the high-purity silicon layers. The electricity
  generated by a solar panel declines by about 1 per cent every year so,
  after a few generations, all our hand-me-down solar panels will have
  degraded to the point of uselessness. Then what?

  New ones would be fiendishly difficult to create from scratch. Solar
  panels are made from thin slices of extremely pure silicon, and
  although the raw material is common sand, it must be processed and
  refined using complex and precise techniques – the same technological
  capabilities, more or less, that we need for modern semiconductor
  electronics components. These techniques took a long time to develop,
  and would presumably take a long time to recover. So photovoltaic solar
  power would not be within the capability of a society early in the
  industrialisation process.

  Perhaps, though, we were on the right track by starting with electrical
  power. Most of our renewable-energy technologies produce electricity.
  In our own historical development, it so happens that the core
  phenomena of electricity were discovered in the first half of the
  1800s, well after the early development of steam engines. Heavy
  industry was already committed to combustion-based machinery, and
  electricity has largely assumed a subsidiary role in the organisation
  of our economies ever since. But could that sequence have run the other
  way? Is there some developmental requirement that thermal energy must
  come first?

  On the face of it, it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that a
  progressing society could construct electrical generators and couple
  them to simple windmills and waterwheels, later progressing to wind
  turbines and hydroelectric dams. In a world without fossil fuels, one
  might envisage an electrified civilisation that largely bypasses
  combustion engines, building its transport infrastructure around
  electric trains and trams for long-distance and urban transport. I say
  ‘largely’. We couldn’t get round it all together.

  when it comes to generating the white heat demanded by modern industry,
  there are few good options but to burn stuff

  While the electric motor could perhaps replace the coal-burning steam
  engine for mechanical applications, society, as we’ve already seen,
  also relies upon thermal energy to drive the essential chemical and
  physical transformations it needs. How could an industrialising society
  produce crucial building materials such as iron and steel, brick,
  mortar, cement and glass without resorting to deposits of coal?

  You can of course create heat from electricity. We already use electric
  ovens and kilns. Modern arc furnaces are used for producing cast iron
  or recycling steel. The problem isn’t so much that electricity can’t be
  used to heat things, but that for meaningful industrial activity you’ve
  got to generate prodigious amounts of it, which is challenging using
  only renewable energy sources such as wind and water.

  An alternative is to generate high temperatures using solar power
  directly. Rather than relying on photovoltaic panels, concentrated
  solar thermal farms use giant mirrors to focus the sun’s rays onto a
  small spot. The heat concentrated in this way can be exploited to drive
  certain chemical or industrial processes, or else to raise steam and
  drive a generator. Even so, it is difficult (for example) to produce
  the very high temperatures inside an iron-smelting blast furnace using
  such a system. What’s more, it goes without saying that the
  effectiveness of concentrated solar power depends strongly on the local
  climate.

  No, when it comes to generating the white heat demanded by modern
  industry, there are few good options but to burn stuff.

  But that doesn’t mean the stuff we burn necessarily has to be fossil
  fuels.

  Let’s take a quick detour into the pre-history of modern industry. Long
  before the adoption of coal, charcoal was widely used for smelting
  metals. In many respects it is superior: charcoal burns hotter than
  coal and contains far fewer impurities. In fact, coal’s impurities were
  a major delaying factor on the Industrial Revolution. Released during
  combustion, they can taint the product being heated. During smelting,
  sulphur contaminants can soak into the molten iron, making the metal
  brittle and unsafe to use. It took a long time to work out how to treat
  coal to make it useful for many industrial applications. And, in the
  meantime, charcoal worked perfectly well.

  And then, well, we stopped using it. In retrospect, that’s a pity. When
  it comes from a sustainable source, charcoal burning is essentially
  carbon-neutral, because it doesn’t release any new carbon into the
  atmosphere – not that this would have been a consideration for the
  early industrialists.

  But charcoal-based industry didn’t die out altogether. In fact, it
  survived to flourish in Brazil. Because it has substantial iron
  deposits but few coalmines, Brazil is the largest charcoal producer in
  the world and the ninth biggest steel producer. We aren’t talking about
  a cottage industry here, and this makes Brazil a very encouraging
  example for our thought experiment.

  The trees used in Brazil’s charcoal industry are mainly fast-growing
  eucalyptus, cultivated specifically for the purpose. The traditional
  method for creating charcoal is to pile chopped staves of air-dried
  timber into a great dome-shaped mound and then cover it with turf or
  soil to restrict airflow as the wood smoulders. The Brazilian
  enterprise has scaled up this traditional craft to an industrial
  operation. Dried timber is stacked into squat, cylindrical kilns, built
  of brick or masonry and arranged in long lines so that they can be
  easily filled and unloaded in sequence. The largest sites can sport
  hundreds of such kilns. Once filled, their entrances are sealed and a
  fire is lit from the top.

  The skill in charcoal production is to allow just enough air into the
  interior of the kiln. There must be enough combustion heat to drive out
  moisture and volatiles and to pyrolyse the wood, but not so much that
  you are left with nothing but a pile of ashes. The kiln attendant
  monitors the state of the burn by carefully watching the smoke seeping
  out of the top, opening air holes or sealing with clay as necessary to
  regulate the process.

  Brazil shows how the raw materials of modern civilisation can be
  supplied without reliance on fossil fuels

  Good things come to those who wait, and this wood pyrolysis process can
  take up to a week of carefully controlled smouldering. The same basic
  method has been used for millennia. However, the ends to which the fuel
  is put are distinctly modern. Brazilian charcoal is trucked out of the
  forests to the country’s blast furnaces where it is used to transform
  ore into pig iron. This pig iron is the basic ingredient of modern
  mass-produced steel. The Brazilian product is exported to countries
  such as China and the US where it becomes cars and trucks, sinks,
  bathtubs, and kitchen appliances.

  Around two-thirds of Brazilian charcoal comes from sustainable
  plantations, and so this modern-day practice has been dubbed ‘green
  steel’. Sadly, the final third is supplied by the non-sustainable
  felling of primary forest. Even so, the Brazilian case does provide an
  example of how the raw materials of modern civilisation can be supplied
  without reliance on fossil fuels.

  Another, related option might be wood gasification. The use of wood to
  provide heat is as old as mankind, and yet simply burning timber only
  uses about a third of its energy. The rest is lost when gases and
  vapours released by the burning process blow away in the wind. Under
  the right conditions, even smoke is combustible. We don’t want to waste
  it.

  Better than simple burning, then, is to drive the thermal breakdown of
  the wood and collect the gases. You can see the basic principle at work
  for yourself just by lighting a match. The luminous flame isn’t
  actually touching the matchwood: it dances above, with a clear gap in
  between. The flame actually feeds on the hot gases given off as the
  wood breaks down in the heat, and the gases combust only once they mix
  with oxygen from the air. Matches are fascinating when you look at them
  closely.

  Wartime gasifier cars could achieve about 1.5 miles per kilogram.
  Today’s designs improve upon this

  To release these gases in a controlled way, bake some timber in a
  closed container. Oxygen is restricted so that the wood doesn’t simply
  catch fire. Its complex molecules decompose through a process known as
  pyrolysis, and then the hot carbonised lumps of charcoal at the bottom
  of the container react with the breakdown products to produce flammable
  gases such as hydrogen and carbon monoxide.

  The resultant ‘producer gas’ is a versatile fuel: it can be stored or
  piped for use in heating or street lights, and is also suitable for use
  in complex machinery such as the internal combustion engine. More than
  a million gasifier-powered cars across the world kept civilian
  transport running during the oil shortages of the Second World War. In
  occupied Denmark, 95 per cent of all tractors, trucks and fishing boats
  were powered by wood-gas generators. The energy content of about 3 kg
  of wood (depending on its dryness and density) is equivalent to a litre
  of petrol, and the fuel consumption of a gasifier-powered car is given
  in miles per kilogram of wood rather than miles per gallon. Wartime
  gasifier cars could achieve about 1.5 miles per kilogram. Today’s
  designs improve upon this.

  But you can do a lot more with wood gases than just keep your vehicle
  on the road. It turns out to be suitable for any of the manufacturing
  processes needing heat that we looked at before, such as kilns for
  lime, cement or bricks. Wood gas generator units could easily power
  agricultural or industrial equipment, or pumps. Sweden and Denmark are
  world leaders in their use of sustainable forests and agricultural
  waste for turning the steam turbines in power stations. And once the
  steam has been used in their ‘Combined Heat and Power’ (CHP)
  electricity plants, it is piped to the surrounding towns and industries
  to heat them, allowing such CHP stations to approach 90 per cent energy
  efficiency. Such plants suggest a marvellous vision of industry wholly
  weaned from its dependency on fossil fuel.

  Is that our solution, then? Could our rebooting society run on wood,
  supplemented with electricity from renewable sources? Maybe so, if the
  population was fairly small. But here’s the catch. These options all
  presuppose that our survivors are able to construct efficient steam
  turbines, CHP stations and internal combustion engines. We know how to
  do all that, of course – but in the event of a civilisational collapse,
  who is to say that the knowledge won’t be lost? And if it is, what are
  the chances that our descendants could reconstruct it?

  In our own history, the first successful application of steam engines
  was in pumping out coal mines. This was a setting in which fuel was
  already abundant, so it didn’t matter that the first, primitive designs
  were terribly inefficient. The increased output of coal from the mines
  was used to first smelt and then forge more iron. Iron components were
  used to construct further steam engines, which were in turn used to
  pump mines or drive the blast furnaces at iron foundries.

  And of course, steam engines were themselves employed at machine shops
  to construct yet more steam engines. It was only once steam engines
  were being built and operated that subsequent engineers were able to
  devise ways to increase their efficiency and shrink fuel demands. They
  found ways to reduce their size and weight, adapting them for
  applications in transport or factory machinery. In other words, there
  was a positive feedback loop at the very core of the industrial
  revolution: the production of coal, iron and steam engines were all
  mutually supportive.

  In a world without readily mined coal, would there ever be the
  opportunity to test profligate prototypes of steam engines, even if
  they could mature and become more efficient over time? How feasible is
  it that a society could attain a sufficient understanding of
  thermodynamics, metallurgy and mechanics to make the precisely
  interacting components of an internal combustion engine, without first
  cutting its teeth on much simpler external combustion engines – the
  separate boiler and cylinder-piston of steam engines?

  It took a lot of energy to develop our technologies to their present
  heights, and presumably it would take a lot of energy to do it again.
  Fossil fuels are out. That means our future society will need an awful
  lot of timber.

  an industrial revolution without coal would be, at a minimum, very
  difficult

  In a temperate climate such as the UK’s, an acre of broadleaf trees
  produces about four to five tonnes of biomass fuel every year. If you
  cultivated fast-growing kinds such as willow or miscanthus grass, you
  could quadruple that. The trick to maximising timber production is to
  employ coppicing – cultivating trees such as ash or willow that
  resprout from their own stump, becoming ready for harvest again in five
  to 15 years. This way you can ensure a sustained supply of timber and
  not face an energy crisis once you’ve deforested your surroundings.

  But here’s the thing: coppicing was already a well-developed technique
  in pre-industrial Britain. It couldn’t meet all of the energy
  requirements of the burgeoning society. The central problem is that
  woodland, even when it is well-managed, competes with other land uses,
  principally agriculture. The double-whammy of development is that, as a
  society’s population grows, it requires more farmland to provide enough
  food and also greater timber production for energy. The two needs
  compete for largely the same land areas.

  We know how this played out in our own past. From the mid-16th century,
  Britain responded to these factors by increasing the exploitation of
  its coal fields – essentially harvesting the energy of ancient forests
  beneath the ground without compromising its agricultural output. The
  same energy provided by one hectare of coppice for a year is provided
  by about five to 10 tonnes of coal, and it can be dug out of the ground
  an awful lot quicker than waiting for the woodland to regrow.

  It is this limitation in the supply of thermal energy that would pose
  the biggest problem to a society trying to industrialise without easy
  access to fossil fuels. This is true in our post-apocalyptic scenario,
  and it would be equally true in any counterfactual world that never
  developed fossil fuels for whatever reason. For a society to stand any
  chance of industrialising under such conditions, it would have to focus
  its efforts in certain, very favourable natural environments: not the
  coal-island of 18th-century Britain, but perhaps areas of Scandinavia
  or Canada that combine fast-flowing streams for hydroelectric power and
  large areas of forest that can be harvested sustainably for thermal
  energy.

  Even so, an industrial revolution without coal would be, at a minimum,
  very difficult. Today, use of fossil fuels is actually growing, which
  is worrying for a number of reasons too familiar to rehearse here.
  Steps towards a low-carbon economy are vital. But we should also
  recognise how pivotal those accumulated reservoirs of thermal energy
  were in getting us to where we are. Maybe we could have made it the
  hard way. A slow-burn progression through the stages of mechanisation,
  supported by a combination of renewable electricity and sustainably
  grown biomass, might be possible after all. Then again, it might not.
  We’d better hope we can secure the future of our own civilisation,
  because we might have scuppered the chances of any society to follow in
  our wake.

  For more information on this thought experiment on the
  behind-the-scenes fundamentals of how our world works and how you could
  reboot civilisation from scratch visit [14]www.the-knowledge.org

  Lewis Dartnell

  is a UK Space Agency research fellow at the University of Leicester,
  working in astrobiology and the search for microbial life on Mars. His
  latest book is The Knowledge: How to Rebuild Our World from Scratch
  (2014). He lives in London.
  aeon.co
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  13 April 2015
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  A drunkard is challenged to walk in a straight line. Detail from
  Walking the Chalk (1838) by Charles Deas. Courtesy the Museum of Fine
  Arts, Houston
  Essay/
  Food and drink
  [19]Drunks and democrats

Violent, lively and brash, taverns were everywhere in early colonial America,
embodying both its tumult and its promise

  Vaughn Scribner
  Video/
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  [20]Fast-forward through a history of human artefacts, from arrowheads
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6 minutes

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  [21]Algorithms associating appearance and criminality have a dark past

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  Leonard Bernstein (far right) with members of the Ex-Concentration Camp
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14 minutes

  A formal dinner at Magdalene College, Cambridge. Photo by Martin
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  [25]We need highly formal rituals in order to make life more democratic

  Antone Martinho-Truswell

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