Category Archives: Blog
Some of you might have seen that my short story collection Constitution 2050 was mentioned at Instapundit.com. If you didn’t, you can read the article here.
I’ve been reading nonfic about politics, government, and socio-political cycles lately. Peter Turchin’s War and Peace and War, Oren Litwin’s Beyond Kings and Princesses: Government for Worldbuilders. Good stuff. If you read between the lines, the former is a good anecdote to the Whig history every American is exposed to by government schools.
These books and their concepts have been pinging off things that have been in my mind for a while, like Robert Michels’ Iron Law of Oligarchy (“all complex organizations, regardless of how democratic they are when started, eventually develop into [rule by an inner party of elites]”) and Jerry Pournelle’s Iron Law of Bureaucracy (“In any bureaucracy, the people devoted to the benefit of the bureaucracy itself always get in control and those dedicated to the goals the bureaucracy is supposed to accomplish have less and less influence, and sometimes are eliminated entirely”).
Which leads me to propose an Iron Law of Iron Laws. I’ll gladly claim credit for it, but it won’t surprise me if someone beat me to it.
If a purported iron law isn’t the most cynical and pessimistic interpretation of a process or system, it isn’t an Iron Law.
In the first three posts in this blog series, I’ve pointed out that, if high tech civilization collapsed and we reverted to the technology of the year 1750, you wouldn’t like it.
- There’s a 90% chance you’d starve to death.
- If you were among the 10% of survivors, you’d have a 90% chance of being a farmer on the edge of starvation.
- If you made it into the 1%, in many ways, you’d still live worse than most poor Americans live today.
I can see only one thing that might make a normal person think all those negatives would be worthwhile. If one truly believed a hard reset to 1750 technology is the only way to save the world from global cooling, global warming, ocean acidification, tropical deforestation, desertification, habitat loss, mass extinction, or whatever other environmental or societal apocalypse might be brewing, then I can understand the belief that the hard reset to 1750 is worth it. (I don’t agree with that belief, but that’s beside the point).
There’s only one problem: you can reset society to 1750, but society won’t stay there.
Think about it. In 1750, western Europe and its North American colonies had 1750 technology. Why didn’t they stick with it instead of burning coal and petroleum, generating electricity, inventing chemical fertilizers, and everything else we see in the world of 2020?
- Malthus. Population growth essentially always bumps up against maximum food production. People in that situation will follow anyone who promises to avert famine for themselves and their children with new agricultural technqiues.
- International conflict. What did Louis XIV, Frederick the Great, the French Revolutionaries, the Non-French anti-Revolutionaries, and Napoleon all have in common? They wanted wealth and power by conquering foreign territories and harvesting their economic and technological production. All else being equal, when you want to conquer a foreign territory, bigger armies are better than smaller ones. Hence, rulers want to push back the Malthusian limit as much as their hungry subjects do.
- Mercantilism. The dominant ideology of the age called for countries to be as self-sufficient as possible, then export as much as they could to keep other countries from being self-sufficient. This promoted the Industrial Revolution, because the first country to industrialize can satisfy more of its wants and flood foreign markets with cheap goods. That explains Britain’s 19th century global dominance.
- Public health. Up until about 1900, cities were net killers of people. Only a constant flow of young people from the countryside replenished the people who died from crowded and unsanitary conditions. In addition to pushing back the Malthusian limits on their subject populations, rulers also want to keep their soldier-age men alive to fight today’s wars, and their young women alive to be mothers of the soldiers in the wars of tomorrow. Mercantilist factory owners want healthy workforces.
All of those reasons worked together, to goad western Europe and its daughter colonies into increasing agricultural productivity, industrial productivity, military prowess, and medical advances. Which then led to an upward spiral to the world of automobiles, computers, and telecommunications.
“In Europe,” you might protest. “Other societies live in harmony with nature—”
No. Just no. Maybe your sociology prof said Rousseau proved non-Westerners were noble savages, or Frantz Fanon proved non-whites were superior to Europeans. But if he did, he was either stupid or lying. Why did the rulers of the Mayan city-states order their peasants to clear-cut the Yucatan peninsula hundreds of years before the Spanish conquest? How did almost 500 Native Americans end up in a mass grave 150 years before Columbus landed? Why did the Manchu Dynasty buy artillery from Imperial Germany? Why did western African rulers sell their criminals, foreign POWs, and already-enslaved Africans to European slave traders? That’s easy: the western African rulers needed money to buy European guns and gunpowder..
Even if the hard reset to 1750 magically got rid of all the white people on Earth, the social forces encouraging technological development would remain.
The resources needed for technological development would remain, too. The world has about 900 billion tons of coal reserves. If world population plummeted by 90% and per-capita coal consumption by 90%, those 900 billion tons would last up to about 10,000 years. More than enough time for technological growth to start back up again and get us back to the energy-intensive world of 2020. With even more coal burning and less use of cleaner fossil fuels like methane than we have today.
Does that mean whatever disaster you wanted to avert by a hard reset to 1750 would inevitably occur? No. Let’s tackle them in turn.
climate change and ocean acidification
If we don’t burn fossil fuels to provide most of our energy, where can we get it?
Wind power? The wind farm on I-35 in southern Oklahoma is an impressive engineering project. The photo doesn’t do it justice. (That gray, treeless area on the ground between the center and right turbines is I-35). However, wind fluctuations mean you can’t rely on it, and you need a lot of very large turbines.
Solar power? Enough sunlight falls on the Earth that, if you could convert 0.001% of it to electricity, you would get about 1.7 TW of power. For the whole world to use electricity at US consumption levels, we would need about six times that. Possible? Yes. Something we can roll out in the next decade? No.
Now, there is an energy source that can provide a steady, predictable amount of power, even on cloudy and windless days, without emitting CO₂. Not only is it possible, some civilized entities with competent engineers—you might have heard of “the U.S. Navy” and “France”—have safely generated electricity with this technology for decades. And in the long term, we can generate enough fuel for it to provide current US per-capita consumption levels of electricity to the entire world for 5 billion years.
tropical deforestation, habitat loss, and mass extinction
These are problems only because of Malthus. If we want to feed 8 billion people, we need a lot of farmland. How much?
At US levels of agricultural productivity, it takes about 3 acres to feed 1 person a US diet of grains, fresh fruits and vegetables, and varied proteins. To feed 8 billion people, we’d need about 100 million square kilometers. Earth’s land area is about 150 million square kilometers, of which today about 50 million is devoted to agriculture.
Does that mean we need to clearcut the Amazon to double Earth’s land used for agriculture? Though I don’t consider myself a green, I wouldn’t want that. How else can we feed all the people on Earth?
Don’t eat like Americans? Mainly, cut way back on meat, especially lamb and beef. That’s a tough sell. Not just to white American men who think meat three times a day is their birthright. Every non-white immigrant I know wants that option, which suggests their ancestors would have eaten like us if they could. Yes, Hindu-Americans might eat only chicken and fish, but they want a rich and varied diet that’s not too different from the rest of us. Market forces suggest that the more demand for food from land, the price of inefficient ways of getting food from that land, i.e., raising meat, will rise until people by less of it.
Feed fewer people? I assume you mean encouraging small families of less than 2.0 children so that population declines naturally, and not the deliberate murder of billions. Most countries have already made this transition. Problem is, the poorest haven’t. If they adopt high-tech, US-style agriculture, the incentive to have many children goes away, because kids then become extra mouths to feed instead of farm laborers who raise more food than they consume. But even then, it would take decades for their populations to decline from their peaks, let alone to levels below where they are today.
Get more food per acre? This is my preference. It’s something human beings have been doing for 10,000 years. Societies with lots of energy at their disposal (see above) can convert some of that energy into food and use some of it to power research. More efficient irrigation (or more plentiful fresh water supplies, with surplus energy, distilling fresh water from the oceans is trivial) would improve the food/acre ratio for deserts and the like. Nitrogen fixing crops could reduce the need for chemical fertilizers while giving comparable yields. Yes, this latter would require genetic engineering.
But which is worse, a world and its 8 billion people saved by genetic engineering and nuclear power, or a world where you have a 90% chance of dying before you get there and, if you do get there, a 90% of working in low-tech agriculture for the rest of your life, which your sacrifice hasn’t even saved?
In the first two posts in this blog series, I’ve pointed out that, if high tech civilization collapsed and we reverted to the technology of the year 1750, there’s a 90% chance you’d starve to death. Even if you were one of the survivors, you’d then have a 90% chance of scraping a living from the land as a farmer. That accounts for 99% of the people reading this post.
But let’s suppose you’re in the 1%. You survived the mass starvation, and your ability to process words and run TPS reports has landed you in the nobility, the clergy, or the bourgeoisie. Congrats. Your life is great, isn’t it?
No. Not at all. Here’s an example of why.
On July 7, 1924, a 16-year-old boy died. A week earlier, he’d played tennis without wearing socks. A blister formed on one of his toes, then got infected, then led to fatal sepsis.
What’s the relevance to this blog post?
That 16-year-old boy was Calvin Coolidge Jr., the son of the President of the United States.
Think about that. Even if President Coolidge wasn’t the most powerful man on Earth, he was in the top 20. The US in that era was among the most advanced countries in the world regarding public health. And despite all that, the president’s son died of something that seems staggeringly minor to any of us who grew up in the late 20th or early 21st century in a First World country. An infected blister. How could someone die of that?
Simple. Penicillin was discovered in 1928. Sulfa antibiotics were discovered in 1932. Sulfas were the first to be commercialized, in the late 1930s. More than a decade too late to save Calvin Coolidge Jr. Let alone anyone, even the elites, living in 1750. Or with 1750 technology.
But it’s not just antibiotics that didn’t exist back then. Want fresh fruits, vegetables, milk, and meat? The first mechanical ice-making machine was invented in 1805. Oh, you want your refrigerator to be electric-powered? That didn’t get invented until the 1920s. (And the first electric refrigerators cost about 60% more than a car). Speaking of cars, the first vehicle built around an internal combustion engine dates to 1885.
Could you get by with local, in-season foods, candles and lanterns instead of electric lights, and horse-drawn carriages instead of automobiles? Perhaps. But some things we take for granted lack any 1750-technology equivalents. Want to send a message to someone? Write a letter and hope the postman gets it to the recipient while the message is still relevant. Want to visit a country on the far side of the world? If you train as a sailor, the winds are favorable, and you don’t lose all your teeth to scurvy on the way, you might be able to. Want to play Candy Crush on your phone? Sorry, no phones, tablets, or computers.
And I haven’t even gotten to dishwashers, washers and dryers, microwave ovens, central air and heat, ballpoint pens, LEGO sets, MP3 players, insulated mugs, bicycles, bike helmets, ibuprofen and acetaminophen…. Think about your favorite things. Something that brightens up your day or makes things easier. And think, just for a moment, how many people use how many machines to let you buy and receive that thing in the app store, Target, or Amazon.com.
Maybe you realize all that and accept it. You might be thinking something like, “To save the Earth, we all must give up something. Even kings, priests, and millionaires must sacrifice. If I can’t send emails or check my fantasy football team, or even if I run the risk of dying from spoiled food or a scratch that turns septic, I will gladly make that choice.”
You will? I’ll bite back the obvious rejoinder, why haven’t you done so already, and instead tell you this. Even if you give up modern technology to save the Earth, modern technology is going to come back.
A bold statement? I’ll explain why it’s true in my next post.
In part 1 of the series, we compared today’s population with that of Earth before the Industrial Revolution, call it 1750. Assuming farmers back then were as productive as possible, the food supply back then supported a population about 11% of what it is today. We rounded this off as If civilization collapsed, there’s a 90% chance you’d starve to death.
But let’s say you’re in the 10% of human beings who survived the civilizational collapse. You’d live a joyous life, back to the land, right? Wrong.
There’s a 90% chance that, if you survived, you’d be a subsistence farmer
France in 1750 was one of the most prosperous places on Earth. Yet the best estimates of French society of that day are that about 98% were commoners, with the vast majority of them being peasants. Not all peasants were serfs, tied to a nobleman’s land, but even being a free peasant working a farm one owned himself in 1750 would have been a lifestyle you would hate.
Easily. I lived on a farm part of my childhood. Do you want to know the specifics of being a dairy farmer? “Living in perfect harmony with nature?”
Get up at 5 am. Guide the cows into the milking barn. Hook up their udders to vacuum pumps and store the raw milk in a giant thermos. Finish milking them by 7 am. Spend the day maintaining things on the farm, going into town for supplies, or working in the city for a steady wage and benefits. Then, at 5 pm, milk the cows again. Yup, twice a day, 365 days a year. Stop milking the cows and the cows will stop giving milk.
Some days, you have extra herd management to do. The cows will only give milk if they’ve given birth to a calf. Cows like to calve in the depths of a Midwestern winter. And they like to calve in safety, i.e., in the woods at the back of the 300 acre farm. Hopefully you can find the calf before it freezes to death or catches a serious infection.
But a cow that gives milk to its calf doesn’t give milk to the farmer. So you take the calf from the cow at a very young age, pen the calf up, and feed it formula.
Don’t forget, half the calves are male, and give no milk. So every spring, you castrate most male calves and fatten them up for the slaughterhouse. Watch the futures prices to guess when is the best time to sell them for 60 cents a pound, maybe $400 each. Maybe you’ve made a profit. Maybe.
And remember, this is in the late 20th century! Without electricity, you don’t have vacuum pumps. You squeeze cow udders by hand. Far slower than using a pump. Be optimistic and call it four hours instead of two. Or in other words, in 1750, you’d spend a full working day just getting milk out of cows.
And then what do you do with it? In 1980, a tanker truck drives to the farm and pulls milk from the giant thermos. 1750 lacked tanker trucks. And giant thermoses. So you have to either consume/sell it immediately or convert it into a long-term storable product, namely butter or cheese. Hope your hands didn’t get tired squeezing cow udders, because now you have to crank a butter churn for hours.
TL;DR Working on a dairy farm with 1750 technology would be hard work. Actually, working on any farm at that tech level would be hard work. And that’s the work 90% of the survivors of a civ collapse would have to do, or else last post’s estimate of 90% of humanity starving to death would be too low.
Hey, on the bright side, if you can sit at a desk and process words, you can probably sit on a stool and squeeze cow udders all day.
I can still hear the objections. “My MFA in Creative Writing and my carefully curated taste in political candidates proves that I’m suited for a higher state than mere farming. After all, 2% of French people in 1750 were priests or nobles, and many commoners lived well, too.”
Sure, let’s say the 1-in-100 chance hits, and you both survive the famine when high technology collapses and you find yourself a member of the upper classes in the new, low-tech order. You’d still be worse off as a 1750 aristocrat than a middle class citizen of Western Civilization in 2020. I’ll explain why in my next post.
Even before the Covid-19 pandemic, there was a lot of interest in the collapse of civilization. The YA book and movie markets are glutted with dystopian images of collapsed cities and zombie-apocalypse TV series The Walking Dead is past nine seasons and still going. Serious descriptions of collapse are bandied about by the globalist elite (consider the number of presidents and prime ministers listed as notable members of The Club of Rome, authors of The Limits to Growth, and everyone is familiar with the concepts of Peak Oil and Climate Change. Prepper magazines abound on newsstands.
Whatever the reason, millions of people spend time daydreaming about the collapse of our high-technology, high-energy civilization. I grew up in a rural area, in a time before smartphones and wars for oil, so I understand in part the appeal of a quieter, slower way of life. But I know too much to believe that the collapse of high-tech civilization would allow the human race to build a no-fossil fuel, low-energy utopia. The human race has lived a low-energy lifestyle for most of its existence. Reverting to the energy consumption and technology levels of, say, Western Europe in 1750 would be really bad idea. This blog series will explain why. Today’s post will talk about the first reason. It’s kind of a big one.
There’s about a 90% chance you would starve to death
There are somewhere north of 7 billion people on Earth today. In 1750, before the Industrial Revolution got rolling, the consensus of world population estimates was about 800 million. In other words, world population back then was about 11% of what it is today.
That had nothing to do with population restraint. Human beings have had sex at a pretty steady rate since the end of the last Ice Age. The only limit on population growth has been food supply. So the reason world population in 1750 was a tiny fraction of what it is today is that’s the maximum number of people that could be fed with the agricultural technology of the time. The obvious conclusion is that, if we revert to 1750’s technology, we’ll revert to 1750’s maximum population.
I can hear the protests now. “Without our rampant pollution, farm yields will go up.” “We’ve developed superior crop strains that, if available in 1750, would have increased food supplies.” “In 1750, the kings and priests hoarded excess food, which we won’t allow.” But that’s all BS. Maybe not the superior crop strains, but the only reason US farmers get 140 bushels of corn per acre is through ongoing crossing of inbred corn strains. Those inbred strains don’t breed true. Seed companies have to keep producing those corn strains every year. Want to bet we can keep producing corn hybrids every growing season indefinitely? Without the modern infrastructure of telephones, computers, biology labs, and transport used by today’s ag scientists?
I can also read the minds of the protestors. I won’t be among the nine out of ten starving to death. It will be someone else. Really? Is that a bet you want to take? My skills are too valuable for society to let me die. Really? I can sit at a desk and process words as well as you can, and the pay ain’t bad, but the niche I work in is probably similar to yours: a job that only exists because of the economic and technological bounty of the last 250 years.
But, sure, you have a 10% chance of being one of the lucky ones who survive. You still don’t want a civilizational collapse. I’ll get into why in my next post.
I became a fan of Rush back in the early ’80s, the first time I heard Tom Sawyer over the radio from KBFL, at the time the student-run radio station out of Buffalo (MO) High School.
The three members of the band were all virtuosos on their instruments, but the thing that raised them above other bands of that era was the song writing. Lots of science fiction (2112, Red Barchetta, The Body Electric, and more) and stuff that’s science fiction-adjacent (Countdown, obviously, though Digital Man and New World Man fit with the cyberpunk esthetic of the early ’80s). But most of their other tracks, with their recurring themes of individualism, resistance to authoritarians, and introverts and outsiders trying to find their way, spoke to me as well. And most of those lyrics came from Peart’s pen.
Peart, who died last week of glioblastoma, aged 67, took influence from science fiction, but in turn, science fiction took influence from him. Last month (December 2019), the Libertarian Futurist Society nominated The Trees, an anti-equal-outcomes parable, for the 2020 Prometheus Hall of Fame Award. Kevin J. Anderson, a long-time friend of Peart’s, novelized the band’s last studio album, Clockwork Angels. And Rush’s music has popped up in my own stories in different ways.
- “1001001” from The Body Electric is the email username used by the mysterious hacker who contacts Clay Shieffer in the beginning of my first novel, The Blank Slate.
- Closer to the Heart is part of the Alignment with the Universe hymnal in the last two Stone Chalmers novels, To All High Emprise Consecrated and In Public Convocation Assembled.
- A close reader will also realized that Closer to the Heart is also a hymn sung by Tao Pacem, in The Reincarnation Run.
In addition to Peart’s relevance for science fiction, he also exemplified some positive traits creative people of any stripe should emulate.
After the album Caress of Steel failed to meet their record company’s expectations, the band faced a choice. Record an album more in line with what the suits wanted, or follow their weird. They followed their weird and recorded 2112, which ended up being their best selling album to that point and laid the groundwork for the next four decades of their successes.
When asked about writing the lyrics to Limelight, a song about the pluses and minuses of fame, Peart said, “I didn’t want to be famous. I wanted to be good.”
And he was, for a career lasting about fifty years, speaking to the hearts of millions of fans worldwide. All because he and the other band members forged their path and stuck to it, regardless what the suits and the critics said. You can’t ask for more than that in this life.
Some science fiction writers publish manifestos. I’m suspicious of that. Number 1, they’re always some attempt to dress up in fancy verbiage the concept that science fiction should change so that the manifesto writer sells more books and earns more money. Number 2, and even more important, writers who write and publish manifestos aren’t writing and publishing stories.
What follows, then, isn’t a manifesto. Consider it a useful guide if you’ve found me for the first time and want to learn more about the kinds of science fiction and related genres I write.
My website tagline is From Middle America to the Ends of the Universe. What does that mean?
- Though not all, most of my lead characters are straight white men. Write what you know.
- Whatever their demographic, I treat all my characters with respect. Respect means I depict them all, hero or villain, major or minor, including women and minorities as real people, warts and all, some good and some evil, and not as politically correct caricatures of moral superiority.
- It’s very likely that religion will be a major part of the human future. My reasons why are set forth in this blog series (1) (2) (3) (4).
- Skillful, honest, hard-working scientists and engineers can solve most of the world’s problems—and the biggest obstacle they face is corrupt, inept, or evil special interests.
If any of those points turn you off, no worries. You have so many choices in today’s science fiction marketplace that you can find other writers better aligned with your tastes.
On the other hand, if you want to learn more about my worlds, the links in the banner above will give you more information about my titles and where you can find them.
CV-2 Books has published two new books of mine, and rolled out “print singles” editions of some short stories, so far in 2019. Here are the covers and links to more information.
Apparently there’s a big football game coming up this weekend, which makes this a good time for a post about the future of football. This post isn’t hard sf, but there is some science fiction content. Not simply because it’s a prediction about the future beyond the end of the next sports season or the next election cycle, but primarily because it’s based on cliodynamics, theories of historical processes. For Asimov fans, think of it as baby steps toward psychohistory as depicted in the Foundation series.
The NFL has been in a Golden Age since about 1985, the year the original incarnation of the USFL collapsed. In 1984, NFL team revenues ranged from about $23.2 million to $29.4 million. We’ll round off at $26.3 million per team. In 2016, total league revenues were about $14 billion, for an average of $437.5 million per team. (The Cowboys nearly doubled that, $840 million, and only the Patriots, Redskins, Giants, and 49ers exceeded the average). Call it four doubling times in 32 years, apply rule of 72, and you have an average per team revenue growth of 9% per year.
As Herbert Stein famously quipped, “If something can’t go on forever, it will stop.” Even if the NFL had smooth sailing for the next three+ decades, we can probably rule out average team revenue of $7 billion for the 2050 season.
And the sailing won’t be smooth. Consider the squalls already blowing in the NFL’s face:
- The concussion problem. Lawsuits from ex-players; a decline in youth football participation as parents keep their sons out of football, leading to less interest in football and a weaker talent pool, reducing the appeal of the NFL’s product; a mounting distaste for the public for such a violent sport.
- Calibrating the level of violence to please owners and casual fans (who want their stars to be protected from blindside hits) while keeping hardcore fans (who want the game to remain the province of tough guys).
- Pricing out Joe Sixpack. What was the minimum in the 2018 NFL season for a family of four to park, sit in the upper deck, and buy four hot dogs, three sodas, and a beer for Dad? $500? Especially when the only thing more boring than sitting through an NFL commercial break while watching TV is sitting through the same commercial break in the stadium.
- The anthem protests of 2017 have faded from the public eye, but watch for more activism to pop up, especially if political forces put a tailwind behind them. And if you think Commissioner Goodell learned his lesson and will keep politics off the field, you think he’s far more principled than I do.
- Patriots fatigue. What’s next for Tom Brady? Stem cell injections? Cyborg implants? Breaking George Blanda’s record as oldest NFL player ever? The Patriots playing in fifteen Super Bowls between 2001 and 2030? Yawn.
From all this, it’s a given that per-team NFL revenue growth will slow, and may soon decline.
Once revenue shrinks, we’re into a decline-of-Rome dynamic. The elites faced with dividing a shrinking pie will do what they have always done throughout history: scheme against one another to each carve off a bigger slice at the expense of the others. This tendency is compounded when the elites presiding over the Golden Age, who worked together to make that Golden Age happen, die off and their heirs expect the easy money will keep rolling in. When you’re a spoiled child, it’s so much easier to blame your peers than to reconfigure your system for a new, more austere, era. (FYI, among owners of richer NFL teams, Jerry Jones and Robert Kraft are both over 75).
Given this tendency, how will it manifest?
The obvious target is revenue sharing. Almost all of the NFL teams share merchandise revenues and split gate proceeds. The only exception? The Cowboys. The $300 million more in revenues than any other team Cowboys. (Jerry Jones negotiated an opt-out for merchandise and ticket sales sharing and so far is the only owner to opt out). When other envious owners realize the best way to enrich themselves is to follow the Cowboys’ lead, they will. Result: richer teams will be better able to sign great free agents, will gain fans, and will get richer; poorer teams will be less able to compete, will lose fans, and will get poorer. With more teams out of championship contention, fewer fans will follow the NFL, and the revenue decline will accelerate. This leads to a decline in the salary cap, which increases labor unrest because players are just as accustomed as the owners to increasing revenues. Another strike, maybe a lockout.
But there’s more. Currently, all NFL teams share TV revenue. But for the prosperous teams to keep their revenue increasing, TV revenue sharing will have to go away.
Here’s the crisis point: a group of 6-8 prosperous-team owners gives the NFL an ultimatum. Reconfigure TV revenue in their favor, or they walk and form a new pro league.
If the NFL caves, then 16-24 teams become perennial losers. Their fan bases implode; they can’t hire any good free agents; they become near-automatic Ws for the elite 8. The decline accelerates. Eventually, teams go out of business, and you’ll have a league where the elite 8 dominate. Maybe it’s still called the NFL, but with only 12 teams arranged in geographic conferences to minimize travel expenses, with games only streamed, not broadcast, and uniforms gaudy with advertising like NASCAR drivers’ suits.
If the NFL rejects the ultimatum, the teams bolt. No doubt the divorce will be messy–the player’s association might try negotiating the best possible deal, or maybe try to start a third, player-owned pro league. But the teams would only issue the ultimatum if they believed they would come out ahead.
So far, I’m confident in my predictions. Whether the new league is called the USFL or something else, whether it starts play in 2025, whether the Cowboys are its first champions, is just clickbait. Check back with me in fall ‘25 and we’ll see how close this prediction is to reality.