When Everything Stops
The Blue Screen Of Death and the importance of redundancy
Earlier this morning everything seemed to stop. At least, everything that used Windows and Crowdstrike. Airport check-in desks, stock exchanges, doctor’s surgeries, self-service checkouts, emergency services hotlines, business IT systems, online banking... All these “essential services” and more went completely offline for a few hours. Chaos. One small glitch in a seemingly insignificant update brought a sizeable proportion of the business world to its knees. Chaos, indeed.
The greater, more fundamental problem, though, went unnoticed. In the flurry of frantic activity to get everything back online, back to “business as usual” few stopped to ponder how could this have ever happened, and what it says about the foolishness that is at the core of our modern society. The real problem was not this glitch. The real problem is one almost everyone has fallen headlong into — and a problem that will cause chaos again even after this glitch (or blazing red warning light) is fixed. The real problem is the forsaking of redundancy.
Catastrophes like this, when a system descends into utter chaos, are very rare in nature. Ecosystems, in contrast to our virtual cloud and tech-based systems, are on the whole incredibly robust and resilient. Over extensive periods of time, they have invested huge amounts energy and biomass in strengthening their resiliency and resistance to shocks. The proverbial city walls have been built and fortified, resources have been stockpiled, and individual members of the species communities have adapted and conformed themselves to the particularities of the unique place they inhabit. But above all else, the ecosystem has diligently and strenuously created and maintained its functional redundancy. The impulse towards enhancing resiliency and stability appears to be written into the code of the natural world. Some like me would even say this is by ingenious and intelligent design.
Functional redundancy is one of the most crucial attributes of an ecosystem’s resilience. Simply put, redundancy means that many different species in an ecosystem carry out the same (or similar) ecosystem functions. Examples of these functions include decomposition, biomass production, predation, and pollination. If one species goes extinct, another will expand its niche and take up the place of the lost species by fulfilling its ecosystem activities and functions — thus keeping the whole system running as smoothly and dependable as Swiss clock.
Though some specialist functions that an extinct species carried out may be lost (e.g. a rare plant which obligately relied on a co-specific pollinator will go extinct if its pollinator dies out) this is a rare occurrence. Normally, the ecosystem and its species will adapt to the new norm and will continue function as if little has happened. A multitude of species carrying out the same role may seem highly inefficient, but it is incredibly wise. Just imagine the abject horror that would confront us if the entire function of pollination was reliant on just one species of bee and that species was hit by a fatal virus. No more almonds that’s for sure.
This isn’t to say that ecosystems are always resilient. Some shocks such as a Tsunami can knock the whole thing out of kilter. Then there are some specific ecosystems around the world, though, that are inherently vulnerable for similar reasons to the collapse of IT systems we have seen today. These ecosystems rely on one or two “keystone species” for the continuation of their structure and functioning. When these keystone species are lost from the ecosystem (e.g. due to over hunting or disease), their absence sends shockwaves cascading through the system, leaving almost nothing unscathed. Food chains collapse, ecosystem structures break down, and an entirely new and degraded ecosystem may emerge out of the chaos.
A classic example is what happened to the kelp forest ecosystems of the American Pacific. These fragile ecosystems relied on the presence of a single predator — sea otters — to keep sea urchin numbers in check. The sea otter’s fur is a luxurious resource, the thickest fur in the animal kingdom. As can be predicted when an animal contains something which humans find irresistible, human lust for otter pelts caused their numbers to tank.
Lo and behold, in the absence of their main predator the numbers of sea urchins exploded, and doing what abundant hungry sea urchins do, they gorged themselves on the kelp, decimating the kelp forests, and converted the lush sea floor into a barren desert. Entire kelp forest ecosystems and all the myriad of species which called them home collapsed in areas where sea otters no longer swam. It was an utter tragedy. One which hunters, scientists, and politicians alike should have learnt from — and big tech companies.
Cloud-based IT systems, cashless infrastructure, anti-virus software. These are just a few of the keystone infrastructures upon which our economies and modern states depend. Knock out any one of these and the potential is ripe for the whole world system to come crashing down (at least, our systems which rely on computer-based technology). In the wake of such a catastrophe, countless lives will be upended, long fought for plans brought to nothing, and businesses decimated. Though the outage this morning thankfully lasted only for a few hours, it was more than enough time to cause untold financial damage, along with severe social ramifications in hospital appointments missed, travel plans cancelled, and urgent calls for help going unheeded. Though our systems will recover this time round, just imagine the consequences if an outage went on for days or weeks. We kid ourselves if we think this is not possible. All it may take is a persistent little bug — or an unavoidable and unstoppable Carrington Event.
An example of a future catastrophe that we should all be preparing for is if the global cashless and online payment infrastructure went offline for a day or more. Business great and small that have gone fully cashless would lose days’ worth of income, and trillions of transactions globally would fail. Though big businesses may survive such a hit (as their huge cash reserves can see them through), for small and already struggling businesses, mass bankruptcy in the event of the above scenario is a distinct possibility. We consumers are also vulnerable. Many of us do not have large reserves of instantly accessible hard currency. In a global cashless outage, our ability to purchase foodstuffs and other essentials would be (temporarily, at least) severely curtailed.
Hard currency is an inherently resilient form of payment. Yes, a thief can steal your bank notes but the same can happen when a hacker gains access to your bank details and wipes your account dry in minutes. What can never happen to cash is a total systems failure. The infrastructure behind cash simply relies on the outstretched hands of two humans exchanging a note or a coin for a loaf of bread. Thus, the seemingly unstoppable push to make our economies cashless is a grossly foolish risk — and one that should be vehemently resisted.
Surpluses, backups, and redundancy can be costly to maintain and may sit idle for years. They are the epitome of inefficiency and are hinderances to constant growth. This is why they have been neglected as the world has rushed after meteoric economic growth and ruthless cost cutting. But as the events of this morning have shown, forsaking these attributes of resilience is stupid and the critical vulnerabilities built into the core of our financial, social, and infrastructural systems have been fully exposed. All it may take is a persistent little glitch to bring the whole digital ecosystem and everything that relies on it crashing down.
When the computer is down and out, paper, pens, and hard currency are the most advanced and sort after technologies in the world. The business or individual who has been wise enough to maintain clunky, old forms of redundancy or creates systems and processes that can be untethered from the digital realms, is the one who stands in good stead to weather future catastrophic storms.
Out in his field ploughing under the bird song, the Luddite was blissfully unaware that the world around him was delving into chaos this morning. It is all virtual so he can’t see it anyway.
This essay is free, but any tips given (or paid subscriptions) support my work, help me to write more pieces and are greatly received by this young writer.
Over the Field is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Refreshing and important reminder to keep survival tangible. One of the things I greatly appreciate about living next to Mennonite country is that their entrie system is offline. They only accept cash and never have a "system failure", and when worse comes to worst, they will note down what you owe them in their black ledger book. Cash and trusting relationships still reign here and I am profoundly grateful for this.
We're dancing on a veil of cobwebs and dandelion fluff.