More on My “Escape Plan from America” 

We got a slew of responses to the April 19 issue of “Just One Thing,” in which I referred readers to an essay written on a topic I sometimes think about: If American culture continues to disintegrate and the likelihood of nuclear war grows stronger, does it make sense to think about creating an “escape plan from America”?

The comments were roughly 60% negative. And the most negative of those were from longstanding friends of mine. For example:

“After reading your latest missive, I’m thinking way back to June 1981 when McEnroe uttered the words ‘You cannot be serious!’ Do you really think the end of the United States of America is upon us? And if so, why are you not doing something about it rather than contemplating running away? I must believe you are just stirring the pot for a reaction. If so, it worked for me.” – KK

“Just read the article you recommended, and your intro to it, of course. It’s written from the point of view of protecting your own ass, not from the point of view of protecting your country. I know, you can do both. But what bothers me is that time, energy, and money put into an escape plan is time, energy, and money not put into making sure your home country stays on the rails.

“It reminds me of a conversation I had early in the Trump presidency with a teacher who said she and other teachers in her public high school were not showing American flags because it indicated agreement with Trump. To hell with that, I thought. Trump can wrap himself in the flag, but he can’t have mine. I’m staying right where I am and flying my American flag high and arguing with that bastard.

“It’s a well-known cognitive bias to think problems that haven’t been solved in our lifetimes are unsolvable. It’s why major discoveries in science are usually made by young people. As we age, it’s natural to become less optimistic and think the younger generation is going to hell. This might be a worthy topic for our Extinguished Gentlemen’s Club.” – SL

And somewhat less disapproving…

“You wrote: ‘So, when I get engrossed in reading about the many ways America is falling apart – and even nearing catastrophe – I find myself thinking how perfectly wonderful it would be to have the entire Ford and Fitzgerald clans together down there [at Rancho Santana] one day.’ And I say: ‘Hey, what about me?’” – AS

My Answer to All of Them

When it comes to social and political issues, I’ve come to realize that most of them are both complex and nuanced.

This is a lousy thing for anyone interested in getting to the truth. It’s also a lousy thing for voters who want to believe that the people they elect to represent them can work through the complexities and nuances. But at least half of the bills that come up in Congress and the problems that presidents make decisions about are beyond their comprehension.

Many of our legislators are not all that bright. And among those that are, there is not nearly enough time to get properly educated on any one issue. The education they get comes by way of advertising pitches made by special interest groups and the nudges they get from a few of their colleagues that actually do understand a bit about what is on the docket.

So, we can’t trust our elected leaders to make good decisions. And lately we’ve discovered that we can’t trust our fellow voters either. Even at our largest and once most revered academic and non-profit institutions, there are no longer any reasonable discussions. It seems like every one of them has dropped any appearance of acting ethically in favor of following a certain social or political ideology.

I don’t see any hope in saving America through voting and legislation.

But that doesn’t mean America can’t be saved. It might just save itself by once again becoming the world leader in some dominating technology (like robotics or AI).

And there is, of course, the nuclear option: Elect me as Supreme Leader, and I’ll have everything straightened out in 18 to 24 months.

I haven’t gotten that call yet, so I have to ask myself: What can I do, instead, from my little perch in South Florida?”

There are only two things that make sense to me.

I can write my little blog and recruit others to see what I see. But I can’t force them. And I have no interest in doing so.

And I can make plans for the possibility that my worst fears about America will one day come to pass.

If that happens, I want to be one of the survivors. And I want to accommodate any family members or friends (like AS, above) who want to escape and be with me. But I won’t be pleading with anyone to come. And I will let only my best friends and family know what I’m doing. I will do my best to welcome any others that want to be there with me, but they won’t be getting formal invites. They will know their refuge is there only if they read this blog today!

I may miss those that ignored my warning and, for whatever reason – noble or selfish – decided to stay behind. But I won’t worry about them. I’ll be spending all my worrying time thinking about making the best of things and starting anew.

Now, there is a lot more to an escape plan than owning property abroad. Any one of the millions of people that have been fleeing war and famine-ravished countries every single year since the year I was born can tell you that.

There is the big issue of how to pay for the costs of living in the safe place. (It may be safe, but it won’t be free.) And there’s the equally big challenge of how to integrate oneself and one’s charges into the new society.

But having a place to live – somewhere away from the chaos – is a good start.

For years, I’ve been thinking, more seriously as each year passes, about building a shelter somewhere in the peripheral hills of Rancho Santana. It would be a simple structure, but large enough to house not just my immediate family, but the extended family and any friends that wanted to join us.

I’ve come to imagine it as a three-story building with a central courtyard populated by fruit trees, an attached schoolhouse and playground, and about four acres of walled-in open space for a vegetable garden, a chicken coop, and a pasture for cattle and pigs.

The building itself would resemble a monastery. On the first floor, it would have a formal library that could accommodate 15 to 20 people at a time. The walls would be lined with shelves that would hold several thousand books, all hard bound, with a smaller collection of about 500 vinyl records, ranging from classical to reggae to jazz and old-school rock ‘n roll. (No new age or rap music.)

The second and third floors would be made up of 60 cubicles, each one with a small window looking on to the sea or the mountains and a door leading to an interior balcony. The cubicles would be quite small, for obvious reasons, but big enough for a twin or double bed and a small desk and chair.

No one would have to pay rent. But everyone would have to contribute something of value. Cooking. Cleaning. Gardening. Entertainment. For those with no useful skills, cash would have to do.

Yes, it’s a bit commune-like. But it would be privately owned. By me. Which would make me the supreme rule maker and decider of who could stay. If you wanted to stay, you would have to behave in a way that I approved of. If you didn’t, you would have to leave. You would then be free to escape to some other place… and I would even give you a pamphlet suggesting how you should do it.