A year ago I made a compromise with my husband. He could buy a single packet of water purification tablets, but that had to be it. He couldn’t start bulk ordering freeze-dried food or emergency antibiotics. We were not going to descend into full-blown disaster preparedness.
My husband has mild prepper tendencies. He spent much of his childhood living on a boat in Florida, with an annual hurricane season that prompted his family to literally batten down the hatches on numerous occasions. Add to this years of playing apocalyptic computer games and it’s little wonder he has a vivid picture of what the end of the world will look like.
Before I met him, I’d never heard of prepping. Now, it feels like part of the culture — from the viral New Yorker feature on tech billionaires buying remote luxury bunkers to the advice a US friend shared on Facebook last week, entitled “Where to Hide If a Nuclear Bomb Goes Off in Your Area” (“I live in a primary target so it doesn’t matter,” one person replied).
Lying awake in the early hours in our flat in Hackney, I have occasionally found a tiny, stupid sense of comfort in those water purification tablets. Not that they’d last long, my husband tells me, when I decline his suggestion that we stockpile more. At which point he starts talking about the baseball bat we keep by the bed in case of burglars, and whether this would achieve much when roaming gangs desperate to steal our precious clean water reach the flat.
It can feel preposterous to engage in this play-acting at disaster, when so many people around the world — in Iraq or Syria, say — face imminent danger. Yet as Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un have traded threats, it’s been hard to keep a sense of perspective on how close we are to civilisational peril.
Apocalyptic thinking has always been with us, but its power waxes and wanes. “We live in an extremely unstable and insecure time,” says Ash Amin, a Cambridge University geography professor who studies urban culture. “Risks are much bigger and globally integrated.”
The psychology of prepping rests on this sense of chaos, of needing to assert some control — any control — over an unpredictable reality. There is solace in practical, orderly steps you can tick off a list. Buy a three-day supply of non-perishable food, a few gallons of water, a torch, a multi-tool. Identify your family meeting place, evacuation route, shelter. These are achievable aims.
Many everyday catastrophes, in contrast, are unwieldy and intractable. Rather than arriving with the sudden bloom of a mushroom cloud, they unfold slowly, in quiet, unobtrusive ways. Some 52,000 people died of drug overdoses in the US in 2015, more than from guns or cars, or from HIV/Aids in the year the epidemic reached its height. Also, don’t expect to enjoy viagra generika the best results within them. The only regard, for which most of the men go for viagra sans prescription, is to get sexual satisfaction. True healing isn’t about guilting or punishing your spouse for cheating, but rather about rising above the pettiness of getting even and building https://regencygrandenursing.com/life-at-our-facility/discharge-planning buy generic viagra a relationship that works. Kamagra tablets, Kamagra jellies and Kamagra soft tablets. canadian viagra 100mg Mothers, fathers, teenagers collapsing in shopping aisles and sports pitches is its own kind of Armageddon; most of us feel helpless in its wake.
Of course, calamities do occur. One morning in September 1859, British astronomer Richard Carrington was in his observatory when he saw a white-light solar flare — a huge magnetic explosion on the sun. It was followed by the largest geomagnetic storm ever recorded on Earth. Telegraphs were disrupted across Europe and the US. My husband’s fear is of a repeat Carrington event — a severe geomagnetic storm that this time would take down the electrical grid, GPS and satellites. In 2012, scientists suggested that the likelihood of such a storm within a decade was as high as 12 per cent. Worst-case scenario: millions of people, hospitals, businesses without power for months.
Perhaps it’s worth preparing for this one-in-eight possibility of chaos. So when is prepping not paranoia — but planning? Tom Martin, founder of the American Preppers Network, which has 35,000 forum members and 230,000 fans on Facebook, tells me: “The definition of a prepper is quite simply ‘one who prepares’. So if someone stores extra food and emergency supplies in case of a disaster, then by definition they are a prepper . . . It’s all varying degrees.”
I find myself browsing ready.gov, a website run by the US government. The homepage shows a family sitting on sofas, smiling. “Plan Ahead for Disasters,” the text reads. “Talk with your family.” Perusing the list of items the government recommends, I am dismayed to discover how few we own. Should I buy a wind-up radio and a whistle?
Amin points out that the emphasis on individual prepping may be misplaced. “Where you find really resilient populations, they often share responsibility with their families and communities. And the history of managing for apocalypse is the history of governmental and infrastructure preparedness.”
I take this to mean that instead of building up supplies, we should invite the neighbours round for cake and pressure the government to invest in things such as transport and back-up energy. That’s the kind of prepping I can get behind. But I might buy a wind-up radio as well, just in case.
Esther Bintliff is deputy editor of FT Weekend Magazine @estherbintliff
Illustration by Harry Haysom