Washing blueberries and pondering the collapse of the Roman Empire

Today my son and I took a trip to HEB (if you know you know) to stock up on lunch and snack supplies since his school starts tomorrow. Now, I have a strange kid who legitimately likes vegetables. I have no idea how it happened but my 9-year-old gets excited and runs to the containers of Romaine lettuce like they’re Little Debbie Zebra Cakes (he eats those too; he’s not a monster.) Baby carrots, green peppers, and lettuce are school lunch staples that make me look like an incredible mom when, really, I’ve been trying to get my kid to like chocolate chip cookies or queso for almost a decade now.

And today, while we were shopping, I had to tell him that we were going to pause on the lettuce. Because, you see, lettuce is dangerous, now? And eggs? Not all lettuce, obviously. His beloved Romaine is probably totally fine (especially because it’s H-E-B brand and I literally trust them with my life.) But I just thought, “Let’s not risk it for the time being.”

And THIS, my friends, is how a civilization collapses.

Too dramatic? Never.

There’s a quote that has stuck with me ever since I read it:

I just realized that most people experienced the fall of the Roman Empire as, “One day a bridge collapsed, and no one came to fix it.” (Jeb Lund, TruthDig)

Think about that.

“One day a bridge collapsed,
and no one came to fix it.”

We imagine the fall of a civilization like the flashback scene in the Odyssey (spoiler alert: Troy falls.) It’s dramatic and fiery and conclusively ends. But that’s not how it actually happens.

Most civilizations are like Douglas MacArthur, they “never die, they just fade away.” (F**k Douglas MacArthur, btw.) The institutions that were built and managed by the government slowly collapse, literally and metaphorically. You witness a crime but don’t report it because you know law enforcement won’t do anything about it. Potholes cover your streets and vigilante citizens have to sneak out at night to fix them on their own. You start growing your own vegetables because you can’t trust that the government agencies are monitoring our food the way they’re supposed to (R.I.P. Teddy Roosevelt’s FDA.)

So what is the government doing?

Maybe the emperor and his family are too busy with infighting and civil war. (See: the Roman Empire’s Crisis of the Third Century)

Maybe the inner circle is growing increasingly insular, suspicious, and out of touch. (See: Tsarina Alexandra and Rasputin)

Maybe the leader has so much power that he sees himself as invincible, so once he’s gone the whole thing kind of falls apart. (See: Alexander the Great; Genghis Khan; Adolf from Germany)

Maybe a revolution comes. Maybe people become so outraged that the government isn’t serving the people anymore that they revolt. But, it’s more likely, that someone else just slowly steps into the state’s place to take over their role.

Billionaires provide private solutions that used to be handled by the government. Local groups (mutual aid organizations, not profits, or, you know, gangs and militias) take over the administration of their communities, knowing the state or federal government doesn’t have the time, ability, or interest in challenging them.

Most civilizational “collapse” is really just a descent into anarchy (from the Greek, “without rulers.”) If the former state has valuable resources, they are typically grabbed up quickly - either by local warlords or invading groups. Either way, the former great civilization gets stripped for parts.

So for the sake of this thought experiment, let’s assume the worst.* Let’s say that American Civilization is collapsing.

*To be clear, I’m actually not assuming the worst. I think we’re in a crisis that will be difficult to dig our way out but I also actually believe we can do it once the charismatic leader holding the whole thing together with duct tape and fear is gone.

What can you do to prepare?

1. Stay active and engaged in political life. There’s still time. Our petitions and votes and complaints can hold governments accountable for longer. Don’t comply in advance and let them off the hook. (Are you registered to vote?)

2. Build connections within your community. Get active in neighborhood groups (actually go to your HOA meetings or at least introduce yourself to a few neighbors.)

3. Participate in mutual aid organizations. Give your time, money, or support to local nonprofits who are doing on-the-ground work to maintain our communities.

4. Become more self-sufficient. Grow some staple vegetables in your yard (my son and I are going to work on growing our own lettuce as soon as the weather cooperates.)

5. Gather all the critical documentation of your life and preserve it offline. I have an accordion binder with my family’s birth certificates, passports, the deed to our house, our car titles. Sure. But I also requested a physical copy of my college transcripts. Any other information that is important for my life to function has been documented and is physically accessible (bank account information written on actual paper, that kind of thing.)
   
   Some of you reading this might be thinking, “Great but also duh. Of course you should do that.” And you’re right. But a lot of millennials, especially, have been lulled into a false sense of security that we’ll always be able to find what we need on our computer. (I’m guilty of this as well.)

Am I just trying to scare you?

No, absolutely not. Our collective anxiety is high enough without my Substack adding to that. But I am trying to get you to take all of these minor to medium inconveniences seriously.

In a civilized state, we should be able to eat vegetables without fear. We should have government officials who actually communicate and listen to our needs. (Oh hey, Mamdani.) We should believe that law enforcement is there to “protect and serve,” not abduct at random or hit arrest quotas. We should be able to travel by plane and not worry that mismanagement won’t lead to an easily avoidable disaster. We should feel confident that we’ll be able to vote, and that vote will be counted. Again, we should be able to eat lettuce for God’s sake.

So keep up the pressure. Keep pointing out to people around you how not normal this is. Use the upcoming midterms as a built-in opportunity to loudly and emphatically rebuke the people in power who are making us all feel this way. And take care of yourself. Whether it’s activism, societal change, or civilizational collapse, it’s a marathon not a sprint.