The Collapse Laboratory
Five days that changed my perspective on everything…plus a delicious crumble recipe.
“We get into the habit of living before acquiring the habit of thinking.”
– Albert Camus in The Myth of Sisyphus
I’m guilty as charged.
I spend most of my life living from moment to moment with the idea I want to achieve a specific set of goals I’ve created for myself – things I want to happen in my life during the next 5 years. But I don’t spend enough time thinking…at least not about the big things in life that matter.
That changed last week while spending five days with other like-minded people and confronting something we all know is coming…but conveniently avoid. I’m speaking about a complete societal collapse that threatens human existence. Now that’s a big thing that matters…wouldn’t you agree?
What is a Collapse Laboratory?
Ok…let me back up a moment and explain why a vegan chef who spends the majority of his time thinking about food and how to make plants taste good is suddenly writing about end-of-the-world stuff.
That is a fair question…and also a good time to bring Ben Green into the conversation.
Ben and I crossed paths in the virtual world about two years ago when we started our Substack publications. We discovered a shared passion for living a vegan lifestyle, among other mutual interests and life experiences. We’ve had a few video calls…and spent some time talking about collapse and what that means. We’ve also chatted about pigs and how to thresh, winnow, and mill wheat.
Discover more about Ben Green, The Collapse Laboratory, and his Substack Newsletter, The Barracks.
After an encouraging prompt from Ben, I decided to take a 6-hour train journey north of my home in Switzerland to his space, 8 km from the Czech border in a location once considered East Germany. This is where Ben’s journey began about 5 years ago when he decided to purchase the old barracks facility and about 5 1/2 hectares (13 acres) of land…while simultaneously rescuing 3 baby Mangalitsa pigs.
Amazingly, Ben had no experience in creating a self-sufficient environment. He had no previous knowledge of how to take care of pigs. He didn’t have running water, heat, or much in the way of energy. Some called him crazy. He called himself a pirate…a pirate with a 10-year plan to build a post-climate change, self-sufficient, vegan community.
This is a man who lives in synch with his principles. He is doing what he believes is right without attachment to any particular outcome and, thus, able to engage fully with reality.
“I opt for the necessary conversations and efforts to defend universal rights, accountability and justice. If people like us do not try, then we leave the preparing, guiding and potential recovering from collapse to people and institutions who will not be approaching it with the same values.”
-- Jem Bendell, in his book Breaking Together
The Barracks Experience
Dark clouds painted the sky as I pulled up to the rusty gate at the entrance to the Barracks. I saw two large buildings in front of me –the old barracks. They did not look lived in. It felt cold…even in the 30° C heat.
I sensed a certain irony in that moment: the dark clouds ushering in a storm, the gloomy nature of these barracks – the very location that once housed East German soldiers guarding the borders and now owned by a British expat, and the uncertain clarity of collapse and what that meant.
Watch a video about The Barracks and The Collapse Lab
Ben greeted me warmly. I knew this was a person who cared deeply about the environment…about doing something to speed our journey through the pain of an impending societal collapse and help those who eventually find themselves on the other side of collapse. The agenda for the week seemed confused and undefined, but I soon discovered the intent of the Collapse Laboratory - to provide exclusively a radically authentic space for the contemplation and consideration of climate catastrophe. To spend time with the other attendees to creatively think about and develop ideas to help people move through collapse and into the other side.
This wasn’t the kind of thinking I was used to. This was a significant shift in my mind’s paradigm. I was much more comfortable thinking about food and cooking than saving the world. I was on the very edge of my comfort zone.
Indra and Nynke, two bright 20-something Dutch women, showed me around the barracks. We climbed the wide staircase 2 1/2 floors up, where I could have a choice of 3 rooms set aside for guests. The rooms were sparse but clean and much more comfortable than I imagined. The bathroom down the hall functioned ok…if you don’t mind exposed electrical outlets, a questionable toilet seat, and only cold water – but it was clean…and I came to appreciate that space after five days, eventually viewing the running water and functioning toilet as a luxury (talking about societal collapse has a way of changing one’s perspectives).
We continued the tour. A small kitchen was on the floor below me – this was a gathering place for those staying at the barracks. It was a modest setting…an unusual place for meaningful discussions about saving the world. Another bathroom down the hall had a working shower, albeit with icy cold water pumped up from the deep well below the barracks.
There was a dining room, the main kitchen, a theater room (that was a surprise), a yoga room, and many other rooms housing tools, grains drying on the floor, and much more. But let’s return to the kitchen, where I knew I would be spending some time because Ben wanted me to cook a bit for the others while I was there. A more detailed look revealed a reality that was not comfortable – no refrigeration (that was upstairs in the small kitchen), a tiny oven, portable electric burners that worked when they wanted to work, and a sink to wash up…but with limited amounts of water to use. This would not be a space I would enjoy – especially from the perspective of my spoiled chef mentality, which was far too comfortable using all of the modern conveniences to create interesting food.
On the other hand, this space seemed entirely appropriate to host a collapse laboratory…a place, I imagined, mimicked what collapse could look and feel like.
Ben continued my tour outside. We wandered through his extensive gardens, where he grows all his food. There were pumpkins, tomatoes, zucchini, potatoes, cucumbers, cabbage, leeks, onions, garlic, beans, rye, and sunflowers – all in various states of ripeness. There was an orchard, too, with apples, pears, quince, and peaches. I spotted berry bushes and grapes.
And then I caught a glimpse of the pigs toward the rear of his property…they were magnificent and huge. Ben took me there to meet them.
I could see the joy these pigs brought to Ben – he was their father…he saved them from inevitable slaughter. And now, they must be the happiest pigs in all of Germany. I sensed Ben’s love of all life on earth exuding from him. I suddenly felt ready to discuss societal collapse.
A Space to Think and Discuss
I spent my early mornings alone, connecting with nature and contemplating what it must be like to live alone on this property. I saw robins and green woodpeckers cautiously flying around the property. Slugs and snails seemed content with the dew clinging to the long grass. Tiny frogs hopped around, too. I thought about these creatures and wondered if they felt an impending and catastrophic climate change on the horizon.
I spotted Ben, now awake but with sleep still in his eyes, beginning his morning ritual of preparing food for the pigs. The pigs also heard Ben – they were now on their feet and paced in the mud while occasionally snorting. What were they saying? I wondered…hmm…I wanted to know more about this pig-to-human connection. Suddenly, I felt sorry and sad. Ben pointed to their enormous jowls…and I felt embarrassed to think I once thought of them exclusively as guanciale, without any connection to the animal – it was just produce to me.
I looked at the trees…big, beautiful, healthy spruce trees. The forest floor was soft and green. There were mushrooms…lots of mushrooms. Some of the trees, the ones with leaves, were already beginning to change color. I thought, hmm…this seems early to me – it’s only August, and autumn was still a month away. What did the trees know?
The world around me appeared normal, but was it? When I looked closer, I saw changes – things that no longer seemed normal. Of course, it would be simple for me to brush off the little things I felt and saw – hell, they were probably insignificant…right?
I heard others beginning to stir in the small kitchen upstairs. That also felt normal…as did the tea, bread, porridge, and marmite. Some of us went for walks in the woods, while others worked in the gardens, chopped wood, or found a quiet spot to write or read.
We engaged in normality…but we all knew about the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. And we found time and talked about it. We had discussions – sometimes long – about water, the climate, and what collapse might look like. We spoke about religion, faith, and hope. We chatted about the history of the barracks and former East German soldiers coming to visit. We discussed food and rotational planting of crops. There was a lot to think about…a lot of topics I’ve spent far too little time thinking about…things that seemed important. And for the past week, I haven’t stopped thinking about them.
In The Kitchen
Initially, I was afraid of the kitchen. I knew I could never create the kind of vegan food I was used to making. The supplies and equipment were severe handicaps that shoved me outside my comfort zone.
The plan was to produce food using whatever the garden provided, testing my creativity and knowledge of what to make with cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, pumpkins, and much more. Ultimately, cooking in this environment became fun, and my perspective shifted. How often do we get a chance to cook with products that travel meters instead of many miles? How often does a chef get a chance to use flour from the wheat grown just outside, hand threshed down the hall, winnowed with the aid of a fan, and milled from the hand-cranked stone mill in the kitchen?
I’m eager to return to this kitchen relic. I want to understand what it’s like to cook everything with fire…or to construct a solar cooking mirror…these skills will become necessary when our societal fabric begins to tear and we understand what collapse feels like.
More About Collapse
As I traveled home on the long train journey, I thought a lot about my experience. Mostly, I felt overwhelmed…I felt I needed time to unplug when I returned home – time to contemplate new thoughts, philosophies, and discoveries. These things take time to process, and I didn’t want to rush through them…it felt far too important to me to brush off the experience so quickly.
Apart from coming away knowing I enjoyed ice-cold showers, wasted far too much water daily, and enjoyed new challenges in cooking – even when modern-day conveniences were unavailable, I also recognized that I feel stimulated and alive when thinking about societal collapse.
If you want to know more about collapse – the causes and potential solutions, I recommend reading Professor Jem Bendell’s latest book, Breaking Together: A freedom-loving response to collapse.
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The following recipe idea came from a crumble I made during my stay at a collapse laboratory event. I had the challenge to create a dessert recipe using the ingredients we had on hand…which included freshly milled whole wheat flour and fruits from the trees and bushes. There were also fresh oats, sugar, and cinnamon in the kitchen…which I could use, but the emphasis remained on the fruits and flour. The apples on the tree became an obvious choice, but I wanted something else…something contrasting. I spotted a bush of aronia berries – an ingredient I was unfamiliar with, but they looked cool – something like a swollen cassis berry. I tasted one…hmm…there was a noticeable blueberry vibe – or was that blackberries? And then the tannins arrived and filled my mouth with complete dryness. Strangely, the sensation led me to taste another berry…and another. It was a bit like drinking red wine…and it was intoxicating. I knew I found a partner for the apples…and away I went to create a tasty and memorable crumble.
Apple and Blackberry Crumble
A crumble is a quick and easy alternative to making a fruit pie. It’s a simple matter of rubbing fat into flour, sweetening it with sugar, adding a touch of liquid, and maybe some contrasting textures. Ultimately, the topping should resemble a short crust pastry that…well…crumbles. Finally, this crumbly topping is sprinkled over a layer or two of fruit in a baking dish and cooked in an oven until the fruit softens and the topping is golden and slightly crispy.
Most crumbles contain about half fat to the amount of flour used – the high-fat proportion ensures the gluten strands that form remain short, and the cooked texture is crumbly. The sweetener is usually brown or white sugar, and the amounts depend on individual tastes. Other ingredients are often added to the mix to create different flavors and textures. For example, I like adding rolled oats or nuts to a crumble, grated orange or lemon rind, and warm spices like cinnamon.
I encourage the use of aronia berries if you can find them. Otherwise, I suggest substituting blackberries, blueberries, or black currants (cassis) in equal amounts.
Difficulty: simple
Yield: makes about 4-6 first-course servings
Ingredients
70 grams (1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon) whole wheat flour
100 grams (3 ounces) rolled oats
2 tablespoons brown sugar
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons cashew butter
5 tablespoons unprocessed rapeseed oil
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons water
3 medium apples
1/2 lemon, juice and zest
1 tablespoon of tapioca starch
180 grams (6 ounces) fresh blackberries
Method
Preheat the oven to 190° C (375° F). Lightly coat a baking dish (I typically use an 18-cm (8-inch) square dish that is 5 cm (2 inches) high.
Mix the flour, oats, sugars, and cinnamon in a medium-sized bowl. Combine the cashew butter and oil in a small bowl until it homogenizes. Add the fat mixture to the flour mixture and combine. Add the salt and water, then gently mix until the crumble dough holds together – it should feel slightly moist and appear somewhat dry.
Slice the apple into thick pieces – I quarter the apple, then slice each quarter into halves or thirds. Place the apple slices in a bowl. Add the lemon juice, zest, and tapioca starch to the apples and mix well. Add the apple slices and any liquid to the prepared baking dish. Top the apples with the fresh blackberries.
Spoon clumps of crumble dough over the fruit. The dough should cover most of the fruit in an even layer. Place the baking dish onto a small tray lined with aluminum foil and then into the preheated oven. Bake for 30-40 minutes or until the crumble top is golden. Cool the crumble for 30 minutes to allow the juices to settle and thicken. Serve warm…preferably with a scoop of vegan vanilla ice cream.
Tips and Variations
I use American-style brown sugar – think very fine caster sugar mixed with a bit of molasses. The sugar I use is extra-fine granulated sugar – otherwise known as caster sugar or superfine sugar…but definitely not powdered or icing sugar.
I like to mix neutral-tasting cashew butter with unprocessed rapeseed oil to create a mixture that works like butter; the fat typically used to make crumbles. Other types of nut butter can work, but their flavor will be imparted into the recipe.
Extra virgin olive oil or unprocessed sunflower oil (difficult to find) can be used instead of rapeseed oil.
Tapioca starch works best to thicken acidic juices. Cornstarch can be used as a substitute, but subsequent re-heating will destroy much of the thickening power.
Share Your Thoughts…
Conversations make the world much more interesting.
What are your thoughts on collapse? Do you think a complete societal collapse is inevitable, or is there any hope of avoiding such a calamity?
What about a crumble…do you have a favorite variation?
Share as much or as little as you want…
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There are few people as uncompromisingly aware of the threats of climate change as Pirate Ben. And to orient one's life completely around one's insights -- even more rare. And then he creates a community, shares his experiences and brainstorms with others. Truly remarkable. Thank you, Jack, for sharing your time there, letting us participate a little. And the crumble -- I love it!
This was a beautiful and vivid read Jack! It brought me back to the barracks instantly.