Apocalypse Now? Preparing for the end of the world in 5 easy steps

It is Thursday as I write this and as far as I can tell, World War III has not yet broken out. That’s a relief. Granted, these days “as far as I can tell” is not very far at all.

For instance, despite my best efforts, I still have only a muddled grasp of what is going on in Iran.

I know it looks like a war, but the man who started it insists it is a “short-term excursion” and not a war, except when he forgets and accidentally calls it a “very complete” war that he has totally won five or six times already.

As at this writing, the world is waiting to see if the US and Iran will show up for peace talks in Pakistan in order to reopen the Strait of Hormuz that was closed by a completely destroyed Iranian navy in response to the US and Israeli military operation to re-obliterate a nuclear programme that was obliterated less than a year ago.

The good news is that there currently seems to be a ceasefire – in the sense that “ceasefire” means those involved continue to fire at and seize cargo ships. But it could have been a lot worse given that just a day or so before the ceasefire was extended indefinitely, we were all told that an extension was highly unlikely.

So the situation is a little fuzzy, but the stakes are clearer. The world is facing an unprecedented energy crisis that could also potentially lead to mass famine if the two sides cannot ultimately agree to unblockade the Strait of Hormuz at the same time. For some reason, the US and Iran have so far chosen instead to take turns unblockading, behaving like those double doors at Bird Paradise that prevent the birds from escaping the aviaries.

Basically, what I am saying is that the apocalypse might be upon us imminently, or it might not. It’s hard to say.

Data points like condom prices going up and shoe companies pivoting to AI are not established leading indicators of doomsday, but I argue that they affirm the impression many people have that the timeline we are living in has jumped the shark.

Of course, there is no point fretting about the end of humanity since there is not a lot anyone can do about whether or when it happens.

What we can do, I guess, is to prepare. But how?

Step 1: Identify the existential risk

The first step to any good catastrophe preparation is to first figure out what is the most likely cause of the end of civilisation as we know it. While many of our minds are currently focused on events in the Middle East, rest assured that there are many, many, many other ways humanity can be doomed.

Preparing for each case is different and not always complementary. The sort of things one should do in the event of the robot uprising and zombie apocalypse would be quite different from the recommended best practice for surviving on a planet made uninhabitable by climate change.

For one thing, some forms of societal collapse are way faster than others. A meteor strike would destroy civilisation in a snap, an alien invasion could take longer (depending on how motivated the aliens are), a pandemic could take months and rising sea levels could take years.

Survival strategies also diverge significantly. Unlike in a zombie apocalypse, you are far less likely to require a machete tied to a stick in the event of a global superbug. In both cases, however, you probably should hoard toilet paper.

Speaking of toilet paper, after identifying the type of collapse you want to prepare for, it is time for step two.

Step 2: Secure the essentials

Survivalists recommend trying to maintain enough supplies to keep you going for around six months. I will leave you to do the maths yourself on how many rolls of toilet paper that means.

You largely want to focus on the absolutely critical items: food, clean water and a way to connect to Wi-Fi. What is the point of being one of the few surviving humans if you can’t brag about how you did it on LinkedIn, am I right?

Of course, you might also want to consider coming up with a pre-agreed assembly point for your friends and family anyway, just in case telecommunications do go down. That way, everyone knows where to gather even if everyone else is uncontactable. Additionally, this gives you a fallback solution. You can share what the end of the world taught you about B2B sales in person at the rendezvous point.

Speaking of B2B sales…

Step 3: Develop some useful skills

It is at this stage where you might want to consider what your new occupation is going to be after the collapse of society. For many of us who currently sustain ourselves in an office environment in front of a laptop, think about whether there will be demand for those abilities in the post-civilisation dystopic wasteland.

As a plucky band of survivors slowly works to rebuild society, how soon will they once again require private equity management, social media marketing or, for that matter, unserious newspaper column writing?

Hence, this is the time to hone a new set of skills more valuable in the new world. Farming perhaps, or hunting, or motorcycle repair. Think of it as SkillsFuture for the apocalypse.

Step 4: Geopolitical hedging

So you have identified the threat, prepped the basic necessities for it and equipped yourself with the right skills. Now comes the question of where to ride out the worst of the catastrophe. This is the most involved step, both in terms of decision-making and execution. Just making it happen will require you to acquire residency ahead of time and park some assets in the intended safe haven.

The location decision is far from straightforward. I know of some people who are currently actively planning on relocating to New Zealand. They argue it has a low population density, it has enough agriculture to be self-sufficient and is far away from potential nuclear targets.

Others have argued that it might be better to hunker down in a country like China. It may not have the same level of food security as New Zealand but it has unparalleled industrial resilience. China has the most comprehensive supply chain on earth. In the event global shipping comes to a halt, it is one of the few places likely to still be able to manufacture antibiotics, wind turbines and iPads.

There is also something to be said about staying put. Singapore has already proven through Covid-19 that it is pretty resilient when coping with supply shocks and also ranks highly globally in climate adaptation preparedness.

There is one other perk to staying put.

Step 5: Forming the tribe

Surviving the apocalypse isn’t simply a matter of gathering up the correct material resources, you are also going to need social capital. When society collapses, you don’t just need a bunker, you are going to need friends and community.

No matter how good you ultimately get at step 3, it is highly unlikely that you will be able to pick up every skill you need. And even if you did, there are just some skills that are difficult to use as a solo operator. Case in point, even highly skilled dentists do not tend to perform their own dentistry.

So you are going to need the help of other people at the end of the world. All those shows that have a very small number of people surviving outside the context of a community misrepresent what is most likely going to happen – they survive the zombies, only to be taken out by an untreated tooth infection.

When assembling this tribe, it is useful to consider which society is likely to support you: the one where you have lived all your life and built your network, or the place you just moved to as a hedge against Armageddon?

So there you go. Follow these simple five steps and you should be ready for the collapse of civilisation. At the very least, you will be more prepared than I am because I do not intend to take any of my own advice here.

I decided some time ago that I am not a good candidate for rebuilding society. I am not a plucky survivor. I don’t have a lot of useful skills, and do not exactly have a magnetic personality. Any tribe I join will likely kill me for food and fuel on the first day because I will be complaining that the bugs we are forced to consume for sustenance lack seasoning.

No, what is best for me is to be taken out in the first wave. In the world of 28 years later, my skull will be the foundation of the bone temple.

I do not intend to survive the apocalypse. So the only way I can prepare for the end is to appreciate what I have now and cherish every day our society continues to stand uncollapsed.

That’s about the best a guy like me can do to prepare, at least as far as I can tell.