“Civilization is only three meals away from barbarism.”
Do We Have to Become Self-Sufficient?
Back to the Future!
Harvest workers in the mid-20th century, long before supply chains were “optimized,” just-in-time, and one container ship away from collapse.
For reasons of basic mental hygiene, one shouldn’t constantly imagine worst-case scenarios. And yet the past few years have shown us how often we skate right up to the edge of catastrophe.
The Russian invasion stalled—for now. The repeatedly threatened nuclear strike has not yet materialized. The pandemic, all things considered, passed relatively gently. One shudders to think what would have happened if it had been a disease that primarily killed toddlers—or young adults, like the Spanish flu of 1918 to 1920.
Even so, society split almost instantly into two hostile camps. One demanded total lockdown. The other insisted the virus was just a bad flu and a cover story for implanting microchips courtesy of shadowy billionaires. If an asteroid actually hit the planet, how long would it take before the survivors turned on one another? Days. At most.
Man Is a Wolf to Man
Zombie screenwriters didn’t invent this idea—real disasters did. After Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans in 2005 and the levees failed, looting and violent crime erupted almost immediately. Curfews were imposed to prevent total collapse.
These episodes teach a simple lesson: when things get serious, you’re on your own. Man becomes a wolf to man.
Government agencies recommend emergency supplies: food for a week, some cash, flashlights, maybe matches.
A week? How quaint.
If war, collapse, or systemic failure hits your city, it won’t politely resolve itself after seven days. You won’t be hiding in your basement until next Monday. You’ll be holed up for months—maybe longer. And in that situation, a firearm is more useful than candles and canned soup.
True preppers know Armageddon requires planning. But even among them, there are levels. The entry-level prepper hoards supplies. The professional prepper—motto: “You’re on your own”—takes the logical next step: only self-sufficiency offers a sustainable solution for the end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it scenario.
If you’re going to prep, do it properly.
That means growing food now, in peacetime. Keeping small livestock. Capturing rainwater. Producing your own energy. Off-grid solar with batteries? Of course. A wood stove for cooking? Obviously.
The gold standard is a stream running through your apocalypse-proof property—drinking water and micro-hydropower in one neat package.
But be warned: a backyard garden in a city suburb won’t cut it. You’re far too easy to find. Desperate bands in improvised vehicles—call them what you like—will find you.
When the blackout hits, or thawing permafrost releases some ancient pathogen, survival favors those far from highways, rail lines, and urban centers.
The Geography Problem
Unfortunately, in most countries, buying agricultural land is restricted, expensive, or both. Remote cabins look tempting—until you realize you can’t grow much at altitude or in marginal soil. And affordable houses with several acres of land? Increasingly rare.
Where do you go, then?
You’ll have the best luck in places people normally dismiss: economically neglected regions, sparsely populated areas, zones written off as “backward” or “undesirable.” When the apocalypse arrives, tax authorities and bureaucrats will have bigger problems than checking where you officially reside.
Find a modest house with land. Retrofit it so you can survive for years without outside supply. It won’t be cheap. But how much is survival worth to you?
When Armageddon Comes
Collapse rarely announces itself in advance. It comes like a thief in the night. Which means you must be able to reach your refuge immediately—under difficult conditions.
A full fuel tank. A vehicle capable of handling bad roads. And yes, something in the trunk that makes you less defenseless than a well-organized grocery shopper.
Luckily, many urban professionals already own absurdly large vehicles designed for adventures they never take. On Day X, you may finally drive off-road—for real this time.
Happy prepping.
Bottom line:
Anyone who thinks a one-week emergency kit is enough has learned nothing from history. Preparing for catastrophe requires more than canned food and optimism—it requires accepting an uncomfortable truth:
When systems fail, you are the system.
yours truly,
Adaptation-Guide
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