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If the world were coming to an end, what would be the most ethical way to rebuild humanity ‘off planet’?

<a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/evie-kendal-734653">Evie Kendal</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/swinburne-university-of-technology-767">Swinburne University of Technology</a> Last week, scientists announced that for the first time on record, Antarctic ice has failed to “substantially recover” over winter, in a “once in 7.5-million-year event”. Climate change is the <a href="https://theconversation.com/antarctica-is-missing-a-chunk-of-sea-ice-bigger-than-greenland-whats-going-on-210665">most likely culprit</a>. Petra Heil, a sea ice physicist from the Australian Antarctic Division, <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2023-07-24/antarctic-sea-ice-levels-nosedive-five-sigma-event/102635204">told the ABC</a> it could tip the world into a new state. “That would be quite concerning to the sustainability of human conditions on Earth, I suspect.” And in March, a senior United Nations disarmament official <a href="https://press.un.org/en/2023/sc15250.doc.htm">told the Security Council</a> the risk of nuclear weapons being used today is higher than at any time since the end of the Cold War. Both warnings speak to concerns about Earth’s security. Will our planet be able to support human life in the future? And if not, will humanity have another chance at survival in space? <h2>‘Billionauts’ and how to choose who goes</h2> Over the past few years, we’ve witnessed the rise of the “billionaut”. The ultra-wealthy are engaged in a <a href="https://theconversation.com/billionaire-space-race-the-ultimate-symbol-of-capitalisms-flawed-obsession-with-growth-164511">private space race</a> costing billions of dollars, while <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/oliverwilliams1/2021/12/21/billionaire-space-race-turns-into-a-publicity-disaster/?sh=79056f7e5e4d">regular citizens often condemn</a> the wasted resources and contribution to global carbon emissions. Space – described in the <a href="https://www.unoosa.org/oosa/en/ourwork/spacelaw/treaties/introouterspacetreaty.html">Outer Space Treaty</a> as being the “province of all mankind” – risks instead becoming the playground of the elite few, as they try to escape the consequences of environmental destruction. But if we have to select humans to send into space for a species survival mission, how do we choose who gets to go? In Montreal last month, the <a href="https://irg.space/irg-2023/">Interstellar Research Group</a> explored the question: how would you select a crew for the first interstellar mission? A panel led by <a href="https://www.erikanesvold.com/">Erika Nesvold</a>, a co-editor of the new book <a href="https://global.oup.com/academic/product/reclaiming-space-9780197604793?cc=au&lang=en&">Reclaiming Space</a>, discussed the perspectives of gender minorities, people with disabilities and First Nations groups regarding the ideal composition for an off-world crew. I was on the panel to discuss my contribution to the book, which explores how we can promote procreation in our new off-world society, without diminishing the reproductive liberty of survivors. <h2>The ultra-wealthy and reproductive slavery</h2> The first step in deciding how to allocate limited spaces on our “lifeboat” is identifying and rejecting options that are practically or ethically unacceptable. The first option I rejected was a user-pay system, whereby the wealthy can purchase a seat on the lifeboat. A 2022 Oxfam report showed the investments of just 125 billionaires collectively contribute 393 million tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent per year: <a href="https://www.oxfam.org/en/press-releases/billionaire-emits-million-times-more-greenhouse-gases-average-person#:%7E:text=Recent%20data%20from%20Oxfam's%20research,%C2%B0C%20goal%20of%20the">a million times more</a> than the average for most global citizens. If the ultra-wealthy are the only ones to survive an environmental apocalypse, there’s a risk they would just create another one, on another planet. This would undermine the species survival project. The second option I rejected was allowing a reproductive slave class to develop, with some survivors compelled to populate the new community. This would disproportionately impact cis-gender women of reproductive capacity, demanding their gestational labour in exchange for a chance at survival. Neither a user-pay system nor reproductive slave labour would achieve the goal of “saving humanity” in any meaningful way. Many would argue preserving human values - including equality, reproductive liberty, and respect for diversity - is more important than saving human biology. If we lose what makes us unique as a species, that would be a kind of extinction anyway. But if we want humanity to survive, we still need to build our population in our new home. So what other options do we have? <h2>Reproduction and diversity</h2> How can we avoid discrimination on the basis of reproductive capacity – including age, sexuality, <a href="https://theconversation.com/infertility-through-the-ages-and-how-ivf-changed-the-way-we-think-about-it-87128">fertility status</a> or personal preference? We could avoid any questions about family planning when selecting our crew. This would align with <a href="https://www.seek.com.au/career-advice/article/illegal-interview-questions-what-employers-have-no-right-to-ask">equal opportunity policies</a> in other areas, like employment. But we would then have to hope enough candidates selected on other merits happen to be willing and able to procreate. Alternatively, we could reserve a certain number of places for those who agree to contribute to population growth. Fertility would then become an inherent job requirement. This might be similar to taking on a role as a <a href="https://theconversation.com/surrogacy-laws-why-a-global-approach-is-needed-to-stop-exploitation-of-women-98966">surrogate</a>, in which reproductive capacity is essential. But what if, after accepting such a position on the mission, someone changed their mind about wanting children? Would they be expected to provide some sort of compensation? Would they be vulnerable to retaliation? The more we focus on procreation, the less diversity we will preserve in the species as a whole – especially if we deliberately select against diverse sexualities, disabilities and older people. A lack of diversity would also threaten the long-term viability of the new society. For example, even if we exclude all physiologically or socially infertile people from the initial crew, these traits will reappear in future generations. The difference is: these children would be born into a less accepting community. Cooperation will be essential for the new human society – so promoting hostility would be counterproductive. So, what options are left? Using a random global sample to select travellers might alleviate concerns about equity and fairness. But the ability of a random sample to maximise our survival as a species would depend on how large the sample can be. A global sample would minimise bias. But there’s a risk it might yield a crew without doctors, engineers, farmers or other essential personnel. <h2>Random selection versus a points-based system</h2> The best balance between competing needs might be a stratified random sampling method, involving randomly selecting survivors from predetermined categories. Reproductive potential might be one category. Others might focus on other elements of practical usefulness or contribution to human diversity. Another option is a points-based system, whereby different skills and characteristics are ranked in terms of their desirability. In this system, an elderly person who speaks multiple languages may score higher than a physiologically fertile young person, due to their ability to substantially contribute to language preservation and education. This does not entirely eliminate the potential for discrimination, of course. Someone would need to decide which traits are most desirable and valuable to the new human society. However we determine our lifeboat candidates, it should be carefully considered. In our attempt to “save humanity”, we must avoid sacrificing the very things that make us human. <hr /> Evie Kendal is a contributor to <a href="https://global.oup.com/academic/product/reclaiming-space-9780197604793?cc=au&lang=en&">Reclaiming Space: Progressive and Multicultural Visions of Space Exploration</a> (Oxford University Press)<img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/210647/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /> <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/evie-kendal-734653">Evie Kendal</a>, Senior lecturer of health promotion, <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/swinburne-university-of-technology-767">Swinburne University of Technology</a> Image credits: Getty Images This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/if-the-world-were-coming-to-an-end-what-would-be-the-most-ethical-way-to-rebuild-humanity-off-planet-210647">original article</a>.

Travel Trouble

Post apocalypse: the end of daily letter deliveries is in sight

Australia Post is seeing red. A lot of it. After posting a razor-thin profit of $23.6 million in the last six months of 2022, it anticipates a loss for the full 2022-23 financial year – only the second time since being corporatised in 1989. The last loss was in 2014-15, following a $190 million investment in “transformational reform” of Australia Post’s letters business. At the time, it expressed confidence those <a href="https://auspost.com.au/annualreport2015/docs/australia-post-annual-report-2015.pdf">efficiency improvements</a> would allow it “to maintain a five-day-a-week delivery”. Now it is pessimistic. With the ongoing collapse in demand for letter delivery, it sees only more losses ahead. That’s a huge problem, because Australia Post has two main obligations, enshrined in federal legislation. It is required to operate on commercial principles – that is, the federal government wants it to deliver a dividend – while also meeting strict <a href="https://auspost.com.au/about-us/corporate-information/our-organisation/customer-commitment-and-service-charter">community service obligations</a>. Those obligations – established in 1989 and <a href="https://www.transparency.gov.au/annual-reports/australian-postal-corporation/reporting-year/2019-20-78">last reviewed in 2019</a> – require delivering letters to 98% of all Australian addresses five days a week, and in more remote areas to 99.7% of addresses at least twice a week, generally within two days of posting. The Morrison government <a href="https://www.legislation.gov.au/Details/F2020L00579">temporarily relaxed</a> those obligations between May 2020 and June 2021 so Australia Post could divert resources to its parcel delivery services as online shopping boomed during the pandemic. Now the organisation wants those community service obligations reduced permanently. <h2>Cost of service obligations</h2> Meeting the obligations cost $348.5 million in 2021-22, says a federal government discussion paper on “<a href="https://www.infrastructure.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/postal-services-modernisation-discussion-paper.pdf">postal services modernisation</a>” published this month. It says they “are no longer financially sustainable and are not well targeted at the needs of Australians due to changes brought about by the digitisation of the economy”. It’s hard to disagree. The numbers are incontrovertible. The hundreds of millions of dollars a year being lost on letter delivery will only get bigger. People just don’t need a daily postal service like they used to. <h2>In the red, and dying</h2> In the 2021-22 financial year, Australia Post made a slim profit of $55 million on revenues of $8.97 billion. That’s a 0.6% profit margin, far below the 8.5% average within the <a href="https://www.abs.gov.au/statistics/industry/industry-overview/australian-industry/latest-release">transport services sector</a>. The surplus was due only to its parcel-delivery business, which grew about 12% in 2021-22 after four years of growing at more than 20%. Letters now account for less than 20% of Australia Post’s revenue. The discussion paper notes letter volumes in Australia is now less than half what they were in 2008. This is not as severe as countries such as New Zealand or Denmark, but worse than Germany, Japan, the United States and the United Kingdom. Government agencies and businesses now account for 97% of mail sent. Overall volume will decline as they move to cheaper, more efficient online methods. Even major postal events like election campaigns are likely to disappear, with postal voting replaced by <a href="https://101blockchains.com/blockchain-in-voting/">digital technology</a>. <h2>What can be done?</h2> The discussion paper flags a range of possible responses. One is to charge higher prices. Britain’s Royal Mail, for example, has raised postage prices by <a href="https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/cymraeg/amdanom-ni/about-us1/media/press-releases/citizens-advice-responds-to-royal-mail-raising-stamp-prices/">64% over the past five years</a>. Australia Post increased the rate for standard letter delivery from A$1.10 to A$1.20 in January, which the discussion paper notes is significantly less than the average of $2.08 for OECD countries. Higher prices may boost profit for a year or two, but in the longer term will just accelerate the transition to non-postal methods. Another option is investing in more efficient sorting technology, particularly automation. The French and German postal services are doing this. But Australia Post has already made huge investments in efficiencies, and doing more will cost the federal government money – something it won’t want to do given the budget position. <h2>What about local post offices?</h2> Another option is to reduce Australia Post’s network of post offices, of which there are more than 4,300. This number is tied to another community service obligation: that no one live further than 2.5km from a post office in a metropolitan area, or 7.5km in a non-metropolitan area. The discussion paper notes Australia has more post offices than supermarkets. They cost $1.3 billion to operate in 2021-22. These provide posting, pickup, banking, transaction and retail services. But their need is diminishing as all things are progressively digitised. An argument could be made that some, at least in metropolitan areas, could be replaced with smart lockers for parcel pick-up. But that’s likely to be politically contentious, with less financial gain, than the most obvious choice – to scrap the community service obligation to deliver post five days a week. New Zealand’s postal service did this in 2013, moving to delivery every other day. Sweden did so in 2020 as a trial, with the intention of making it permanent. Some will miss the daily service. But most of us won’t. As the relaxation to deliveries every second day showed during the COVID period, it is likely most people won’t even notice. Image credits: Getty Images This article originally appeared on <a href="https://theconversation.com/post-apocalypse-the-end-of-daily-letter-deliveries-is-in-sight-201094" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>.

Money & Banking

Apocalyptic films have lulled us into a false sense of security about climate change

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC)‘s sobering <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-58130705" target="_blank">“code red for humanity”</a> report comes on the heels of months of devastating weather events around the world. Our front pages have been dominated by photos that look as if they’ve come from a film – images of <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-merseyside-58147674" target="_blank">heroic teams tackling forest fires</a> against a bright orange sky, of planes dropping water and fire retardant, <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.voanews.com/europe/german-floods-kill-least-133-search-survivors-continues" target="_blank">cars sinking into flooded streets</a> and destroyed buildings. One image – that of a ferry, carrying evacuees from the Greek Island of Evia, surrounded by fire, helpless and in the middle of crisis – drew comparisons to the ferry scenes in the 2005 remake of War of the Worlds. In the film, people poured onto a vehicle ferry in a desperate attempt to escape the extraterrestrial invasion. In Greece, the ferry made safe landing, and <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-58141336" target="_blank">all passengers were accounted for</a>. But in the film, few, bar the protagonists, survived that moment. While War of the Worlds ends happily – with the alien lifeforms that had ravaged the world succumbing to their vulnerability to microbes on Earth – the footage from Greece is just one scene in a story for which the ending is not yet fully written. It might seem frivolous to compare such moments to films, but these comparisons play an important role in helping us to comprehend and make sense of particular moments in history. Like all works of art, films reveal much about the social and political zeitgeist in which they are conceived and produced, often acting as magnifying lenses for humankind’s hopes and anxieties. Psychoanalysis researcher Vicky Lebeau <a rel="noopener" href="https://cup.columbia.edu/book/psychoanalysis-and-cinema/9781903364192" target="_blank">has noted</a> that films can reveal the desires and fears of the societies that watch them. We have seen this in science fiction films, such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers and The Day the Earth Stood Still, which flourished <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.humanities.org/blog/movie-critic-robert-horton-discusses-sci-fi-films-the-cold-war-and-today" target="_blank">during the cold war</a>, inspired by the space race and the arms race. The proliferation of blockbuster disaster films just before the turn of the millennium (Twister, Dante’s Peak, Armageddon, Deep Impact, to name a few), fed off theories that <a rel="noopener" href="https://davefox990.medium.com/what-disaster-movies-say-about-us-536a5dabbad1" target="_blank">the world would end</a> as we entered the year 2000. And it is also no accident that during the early months of the COVID pandemic the <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/films/news/contagion-coronavirus-download-watch-online-otorrent-warner-bros-cast-twitter-a9403256.html" target="_blank">most watched films online</a> were Contagion, Outbreak and 28 Days Later –- all of which depict degrees of pandemic apocalypse. <img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/415428/original/file-20210810-15-7k1ul5.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" alt="" /> A video of people being evacuated from the Greek island of Evia drew comparisons with the 2005 remake of War of the Worlds. Apocalypse now? Through these stories, directors have offered us an enthralling yet terrifying glimpse of what the end of the world might look like. It could be caused by zombies (Walking Dead, I Am Legend, Shaun of the Dead), biological demise (Children of Men, Logan’s Run), climate change (The Day After Tomorrow, Snowpiercer, Flood), nuclear accident or war (Dr. Strangelove), or ancient prophecy (2012). However, none of these are truly end-of-world narratives. Apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic films start with the risk of total destruction, but more often than not, after the cataclysmic event of the story, a form of normality returns –- balance is restored to the world and life can once again move forward. This way of storytelling brings these films closer to the true meaning of apocalypse. The root of the word “apocalypse” comes from the ancient Greek term αποκαλύπτειν (apokalýptein), which <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.etymonline.com/word/apocalypse" target="_blank">translates roughly</a> as “unveiling” or “revealing”. The implication being that the near destruction of the city or planet allows for a new understanding, a shift in priorities and a new way of seeing the world – or a renewed and better existence. <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"> This is some horrifying War of the Worlds shit right here. We have got to start electing governments that actually fight climate change, above all, and start demanding more of ourselves and of companies that can change things. <a href="https://t.co/9JDGI2fWgH">https://t.co/9JDGI2fWgH</a> — Helen O'Hara (@HelenLOHara) <a href="https://twitter.com/HelenLOHara/status/1423980516181741570?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">August 7, 2021</a></blockquote> The scenes of flooding and fires that fill our news programmes echo those we see in movies. But for them to be truly apocalyptic, rather than merely world ending, they must reveal something to us. As we watch the real-world events unfold, the IPCC report makes clear what they reveal – that humans have changed the climate and we are on a trajectory to make much of our environment unlivable. But unlike the films, not everyone is going to be saved in 90 thrilling minutes. By comparing reality to films, we are seeking the hope for renewal that these apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic narratives give us. Nevertheless, they are ultimately fiction. While rehearsing the end of the world through film can exorcise fears, at the same time they may have desensitised us, lulling us into a false sense of security that all will be well in the end – and <a rel="noopener" href="https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20130731-the-lure-of-the-disaster-movie" target="_blank">that we are immortal</a>. If our own apocalypse is a three-act film, then the last 200 years of environmental harms have been the setup, the exposition. We are now at the moment of confrontation. We all, as the lead characters, must confront the reality of what is around us. If not, the third act, the resolution, may not be the ending we hope for. As French philosopher Jacques Derrida warned: “the end approaches, but the apocalypse is long lived”.<img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important; text-shadow: none !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/165837/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /> <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/doug-specht-530827" target="_blank">Doug Specht</a>, Senior Lecturer in Media and Communications, <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-westminster-916" target="_blank">University of Westminster</a> and <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/silvia-angeli-1258983" target="_blank">Silvia Angeli</a>, Visiting Lecturer in Media and Communication, <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-westminster-916" target="_blank">University of Westminster</a> This article is republished from <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com" target="_blank">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a rel="noopener" href="https://theconversation.com/apocalyptic-films-have-lulled-us-into-a-false-sense-of-security-about-climate-change-165837" target="_blank">original article</a>. Image: Getty Images

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If the world were coming to an end, what would be the most ethical way to rebuild humanity ‘off planet’?

Post apocalypse: the end of daily letter deliveries is in sight

Apocalyptic films have lulled us into a false sense of security about climate change

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