Elegy for an Opel Corsa

My car died last week.

She had been showing her age for some time. Once I could get her up to 90mph before she started shaking too violently; recently I've been reluctant to accelerate much beyond seventy. Then bits of her started to give out - a brake light here, an exhaust pipe there. The manifold developed a hairline crack and started leaking water. My car began to spend more time with the mechanic than with me. The end came last week. As I drove home one evening the engine gave out and she rolled gently to a halt in a grassy lay-by on the road to Cobh. No amount of swearing or grinding the ignition could get her to move again. It only remained for the mechanic to come and pronounce the last rites.

So I am now carless. At a practical level, it is hardly the end of the world. I live 10 minutes from the train station and I usually take the train to work anyway. The shops are within walking distance of my flat. And I can look at my reduced carbon usage, feel a glow of conscious virtue inside, and sneer at the neighbours with their big, polluting 4x4.

Still, after losing my car it feels as if a piece of me has been amputated.

We talk about our "love affair with the car". In reality it goes deeper: our car is an extension of our self. It is a little bit of personal space, a protective shell we carry with us when we take to the road. But it also makes us faster, tougher, stronger, more free - at least in our imaginations. For men - and perhaps young men most of all - a car can become an expression of masculinity. If we can’t lead a horde of screaming warriors into battle, at least we can overtake dangerously on the N25.

And then there is the status. Throughout history the man with a horse has always been above - literally and metaphorically - the man without one. Even having a beaten-down hack to ride was better than having no horse at all. Motorists are the modern equivalent of cavalry. Now I'm just a poor foot-soldier slogging through the mud.

However a car can also change our personality. Being inside our metal shell frees us up to be more aggressive and to take more risks than we would in our naked person. My girlfriend used to scold me about the volleys of abuse I would hurl at fellow drivers from behind the wheel - because they were too slow, because they were too fast, because they didn't move off quickly enough at the green light... Inanimate objects too became the subjects of my wrath; at traffic lights and road-works I turned the air blue. Perhaps it is the sense of all that stored up power under the accelerator, or maybe it’s that adrenaline is addictive, but driving seems to make you want to hurry even when there is no need for it. So you overtake recklessly, break the speed limit, cut through orange lights...all to arrive at your destination two minutes earlier than you would otherwise.

Motoring is built on a myth of freedom that is contradicted by traffic jams, overcrowded roads and suburban sprawl. But like all myths it has a basis in reality. Cruising along the motorway at speed, with music pounding from the sound system, suspended between your destination and the place you left behind... Rambling through the countryside, not tied down by bus timetables or limited by aching muscles, knowing that any road you see is yours to take... Closing the car door in the morning before you go to work, turning on the radio and relaxing into your private cocoon for the length of the drive... If in the long run the car imprisons us, it also gives an experience of freedom that is seductive and addictive.  

Life without a car will mean I have to use my legs more (which will be good for my waistline), and can relax and read on my daily commute instead of giving myself blood pressure because the traffic lights choose the very moment I reach them to turn red. Maybe I will end up talking to some of my fellow commuters rather than hurling abuse at them from inside my glass bubble. I’ll also be saving money. But despite all the benefits of not having a car, I still feel an odd sense of diminishment…

In a post-peak society, the private car is destined for the endangered species list. But I suspect it will prove more resilient than many people think. As oil prices rise, people may cut back on motoring, but they will try to hold onto their car. Because it is more than just an engine. It is a part of our identity. And that will not be easy to give up.  

Virtual Worlds: The Shopping Centre and the Commodification of Meaning

The contemporary shopping centre is the cathedral of a narcissistic religion of the self in which the identity of the consumer is made and re-made through the purchase of commodities imbued with fake meaning. What enables the such simulations to exist is the exclusion by the rationalised system of the shopping mall of authentic meanings rooted in collective solidarity and the existential experience. The consequence is a “privatisation of meaning” whereby the myths and narratives that guide our lives are no longer generated through collective dialogue and action, but created and sold to us by corporations. In this respect the shopping centre is typical of a range of "virtual worlds" created by late modern consumerism. I recently had an article on this theme published in Research West Review: the full piece can be accessed at

http://greenlinkwest.webs.com/RWR%20POCONNOR.pdf

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

As we move into the era of energy scarcity, the laws of economics will change. A pointer towards what is in store for us was last week's announcement of an unexpected rise in Eurozone inflation, leading to the threat of increased interest rates from the European Central Bank (ECB).

Eurozone inflation in April hit 2.8%. This against a backdrop of sluggish economic growth across the continent - growth in the Euro area is forecast to reach 1.6% at most in 2011 - and falling consumer confidence.

In other words, consumers worried about their jobs and future incomes are keeping a tight grip on their wallets - yet prices are still rising.

The reason? Soaring commodity prices on world markets - especially for energy and food.

Just as the laws of physics work differently when you move at the speed of light, so strange things start to happen in the economy as we reach peak oil.

World production of crude oil has barely increased since 2005. Soaring demand from India and China is hitting against the buffers of limited supply - and that is driving up the price not just of oil, but of other energy sources and of food.

This is the equivalent of imposing an extra tax on the economy, with the proceeds going to commodity producers. One consequence is to slow down growth.

In normal times an increase in interest rates, by taking money out of the economy, would reduce demand for goods and services and therefore inflation. But what is "normal" is starting to change. If the ECB raises interest rates, it will hit consumers in the pocket and further dampen growth in the Eurozone - but it will do little to stop inflation driven by commodity prices.

The only circumstance in which these will temporarily fall back are those we witnessed in late 2008 - a sharp global recession.

The fact is there will be no return to "normal" growth of the kind we got used to in the 1990s and early 2000s. Instead we find ourselves trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.

The devil is the soaring cost of energy, which drives up inflation at the same time as it slows down growth.

The only way to escape is by diving into the deep blue sea - the choppy waters of recession.

The last time developed economies suffered from "stagflation" - a combination of economic stagnation and rising prices - was after the oil shocks of the 1970s. On that occasion the causes of high energy prices were political.

This time there is simply not enough oil in the ground.

Stagflation once appeared as dated as bell-bottoms and mullet haircuts. But not only is it back in fashion -we can expect it to become a near a permanent feature of the economic landscape.