You've put your finger precisely on one of the things that makes me uncomfortable about calling myself a survivalist; the lone Rambo with the shrine to Ronald Reagan in his fallout shelter stereotype squicks me somewhat, too.
We're social animals; we survive by banding together, sharing, and cooperating, not lurking in our bunkers in a war of all against all. But starving along with everybody else is senseless. And you can't provide for everybody; if you've got enough food for your family, starving your kids to feed others (who should have known better) makes no sense. In some situations there's a fine balance between charity and suicide. What do you do if you've got barely enough for your family to make it through the winter, and a co-worker shows up at your door?
How do you preserve some kind of community, some kind of social compact, when things are really going down the tube?
It gets kind of distressing to think about, actually. But I'd rather do what I can, within reason, to prepare for things falling apart, than do nothing out of distaste. I'll be able to contribute more to the collective throughpulling if I'm alive.
And as Phnee points out, we do have some friends who don't like the way the wind is blowing, and are starting to get prepared too. Which is comforting; hopefully, decades from now in our nursing homes, we'll be able to joke about how silly we were getting all anxious about global warming...
Re: "...keep an eye to windward..."
We're social animals; we survive by banding together, sharing, and cooperating, not lurking in our bunkers in a war of all against all. But starving along with everybody else is senseless. And you can't provide for everybody; if you've got enough food for your family, starving your kids to feed others (who should have known better) makes no sense. In some situations there's a fine balance between charity and suicide. What do you do if you've got barely enough for your family to make it through the winter, and a co-worker shows up at your door?
How do you preserve some kind of community, some kind of social compact, when things are really going down the tube?
It gets kind of distressing to think about, actually. But I'd rather do what I can, within reason, to prepare for things falling apart, than do nothing out of distaste. I'll be able to contribute more to the collective throughpulling if I'm alive.
And as Phnee points out, we do have some friends who don't like the way the wind is blowing, and are starting to get prepared too. Which is comforting; hopefully, decades from now in our nursing homes, we'll be able to joke about how silly we were getting all anxious about global warming...