Fossil Fuels, False Narratives, and Forgotten Lessons…
But the cruel reality is, according to various sources, the world is going through a record number of active armed conflicts. The most recent data from the Uppsala Conflict Data Program (UCDP) at the University of Uppsala in Sweden states that in 2023, there were 59 armed conflicts involving at least one state— the highest number recorded since 1946. This number includes wars between countries as well as civil wars and internal insurgencies, considering an "armed conflict" to be one with at least 25 combat deaths in a year.
Under our sacrosanct canons of objectivity, we have pointed to one of the great Russian writers who knew how to read the future with millimetric accuracy. Perhaps it is the turn of one of the most famous American writers, Ambrose Bierce, with a lost fragment of The Devil's Dictionary.
¨The night was dark and moonless when the Editor first set foot in the rickety library, guided only by the trembling glow of a nearly spent candle. Dust floated like tiny spectres in the air. There, on a shelf eaten away by time, he found a volume with the title almost erased: The Devil's Dictionary: Supplementum Obscurum.
He opened the crisp lid. The smell of old paper filled his nostrils. As he flipped through the fragile pages, he realized that it was no ordinary edition of Bierce's work. These passages, written in tight, trembling handwriting, alluded to figures that did not exist in Bierce's time, reflecting a dissonant echo of the future. Intrigued, the Editor lit another candle and began to read:
"The name, once associated with commerce and entertainment, has emerged into the political arena feeding collective anxieties with a bellicose discourse. Under his baton, reality was split into two comfortable halves: the devotees who allowed themselves to be dazzled by his superlatives, and the skeptics who saw in his proclamations mere ghosts designed to divert debates.
He became a master of turning fear into profit, skillfully announcing threats—whether real or imagined—positioning himself as the hero of the crises he conjured. Like a contemporary sorcerer, he transforms uncertainty into treasure, particularly during election seasons when the stakes are at their highest. It’s a brilliant display of manipulation, a cunning figure devoid of shame... As the stock market plunged and trade wars began to unravel the global economy, just before he set out to conquer new territories for rare earth metals on behalf of his mentor, and as his unique romance with that man from the Gulag took a dramatic turn, reminiscent of a scandalous soap opera, The Devil's Cauldron simmered in a sweltering summer... Yet, undaunted and serving as a mere distraction, he boldly proclaimed, "I was born in America, and I will serve my country loyally until the last Democrat is miscounted. My lucky number is 22—and no, this isn’t a joke."
To some, he stood as the steadfast guardian of the proud Eurasian steppes; to others, he was a calculating mastermind, orchestrating geopolitical manoeuvres with a chilling composure. His iron grip revealed that democracy could be swayed—or even shattered—by the sheer force of undeniable authority. In the eyes of his rivals, the art of information manipulation wielded a might akin to that of a formidable army, as the truth crumbled under the weight of doubt like a dilapidated fortress. When the Editor reviewed the first few pages, he found a brief annotation written in a faded margin:
"These additions never appeared in the original edition of Bierce. I, the Dictionary, am nourished by the ironies and madness of each era. Whoever leafs through these pages should do so with caution: cynicism never dies; it merely adopts new masks."
Stunned, the Editor looked up. Beyond the walls of the abandoned building, the wind howled like a distant laugh—perhaps Bierce 's-at that grotesque testimony of humanity's political ambition and decline. He tucked the book under his arm, determined to preserve these misplaced definitions, wondering who would ever stumble upon this enigmatic Supplementum Obscurum again.
Before leaving the library, the Editor noticed a final appendix, almost hidden at the end of the work. It was dated with imprecise features as if it were written throughout different periods:
"Disinformation: A set of lies, half-truths, and manipulated data that, when dispersed with cunning, are capable of shaping perceptions, undermining wills, and aiding despots.
Since man learned to raise his voice above a whisper, there has been the deliberate sowing of falsehoods. However, in modern history—with the multiplication of screens and networks—some will say there has never been such a hellish period of informational confusion. The speed with which rumours spread, the echo of digital cameras, and the ease with which the implausible is shared have elevated disinformation to a dark art form.
Is this, then, the darkest moment of all? Every age is considered the worst; every shaky truth seems fragile. But perhaps the real horror is discovering that disinformation is not a novelty but the renewed constant of an old spectre that will not disappear as long as human beings yearn for secrets and power.
And, as Bierce—or the entity that signs on his behalf—warned:
“Cynicism never dies; it transmutes as soon as it finds a new channel to propagate."
The Editor closed the book. He put his hand to his heart, overwhelmed to see that disinformation was rising, today more than ever, as the great stratagem of those who seek to subvert the truth for their benefit. Clinging to that reflection, he took his dying candle and left the library in the dead of night, wondering how long it would take for the shadows to engender new definitions that would complete that cursed dictionary.
Twenty-one is an age of maturity—a milestone when one expects youth lessons to crystallize into wisdom. In 2021, the 21st century reached that symbolic “coming of age.” Yet, as the world passed this threshold, it became painfully clear that our society’s relationship with energy remains as immature as ever. The past few years have borne witness to a sobering déjà vu: surging oil prices, lines at fuel pumps, and geopolitical turmoil painfully reminiscent of the 1970s. Instead of entering adulthood enlightened by history, we seem to be re-enacting old mistakes. The urgency of this moment cannot be overstated. If we do not reckon with the instability of fossil fuels and the deception that prolongs their dominance, we risk condemning ourselves to an endless cycle of crises. This is not just another policy debate—it is a moral and practical imperative to remember our history and confront the truth. The stakes—a livable planet, stable economies, and the integrity of our democracies—could not be higher.
The Unlearned Lessons of Oil Shocks
How the Oil Crises of the 1970s Sparked a Global Shift in Electricity Generation:
For millions worldwide, images of endless lines of cars inching toward gas stations became iconic symbols of the turbulent 1970s. The Arab OPEC oil embargo of 1973, sparked by the Yom Kippur War, sent shockwaves through industrialized economies, quadrupling oil prices within months and plunging nations into economic turmoil. Less than six years later, the 1979 Iranian Revolution triggered another surge in global oil prices, further exposing the vulnerabilities of dependence on fossil fuels.
Before these shocks, oil was a central pillar of electricity generation, powering roughly a quarter of global electricity production. In the United States alone, oil accounted for nearly 17% of electricity generation in 1973. But as oil prices soared, energy policy underwent a seismic shift. Countries urgently sought alternatives to insulate their economies from future disruptions.
The response was swift and decisive. Nations accelerated their investments in coal, nuclear power, and emerging renewable technologies. In the U.S., legislation such as the Powerplant and Industrial Fuel Use Act of 1978 mandated that new plants move from oil toward coal and nuclear energy. By 1985, oil's share of U.S. electricity had collapsed from 17% to just 4%, while coal surged to nearly 57%. Nuclear energy also saw rapid growth, climbing from under 5% to over 15% of the American electricity mix during the same period.
Globally, the push toward nuclear power was especially pronounced. France launched an aggressive nuclear buildout, with atomic energy growing from nearly zero in 1973 to over 70% of electricity generation by the mid-1980s. Other countries, including Germany, Japan, Sweden, and the UK, also significantly expanded their nuclear capabilities, driven by the pressing need for energy security.
The oil shocks also ignited interest in renewable energy sources. Although still in their infancy, solar and wind technology received unprecedented government funding and policy support, laying the groundwork for the renewable energy boom in subsequent decades. Legislation like the Public Utility Regulatory Policies Act of 1978 in the U.S. encouraged small-scale renewable energy generation, sparking early wind farms in California and pioneering solar developments.
The global energy landscape underwent profound changes in the decades following the oil crisis. Oil’s role in electricity generation dwindled dramatically, falling from 25% globally in 1973 to under 3% by 2019. Natural gas, nuclear energy, and renewables filled the gap, diversifying energy portfolios and enhancing resilience against volatility.
These shifts were not just technical but philosophical. The crises of the 1970s taught policymakers that relying heavily on a single energy source—mainly imported fossil fuels—posed substantial risks. Energy diversity and security principles have become permanently embedded in global energy strategies.
Today, as the world grapples with climate change and seeks sustainable solutions, the lessons of the 1970s remain highly relevant. The legacy of those turbulent times is evident in every wind turbine spinning on a distant hillside and every solar panel catching the afternoon sun. The oil crisis did more than create panic at the pumps; it reshaped how we power our world.
A Retreat from Clean Energy Progress
One might have expected the oil shocks to spark a permanent pivot to alternative energy. And, for a time, they did spur action. The late 1970s saw a flurry of interest in conservation and renewables. Governments scrambled to insulate themselves from the oil weapon. President Carter pushed a bold agenda of efficiency and innovation in the United States: he installed solar panels atop the White House in 1979 to symbolise a new direction. He envisioned deriving 20% of U.S. energy from renewables by 2000, rallying Americans to see this challenge as part of “one of the greatest and most exciting adventures ever undertaken” (Where Did the Carter White House's Solar Panels Go? | Scientific American). Other nations invested in nuclear power, wind turbines, and research into synthetic fuels. It was a moment of possibility born from crisis.
But when oil became cheap again, that resolve crumbled. In the 1980s, the momentum toward clean energy screeched to a halt. The incoming administration of Ronald Reagan dismantled the progress, removing Carter’s solar panels during a White House roof repair in 1986 and never reinstalling them. This was more than a symbolic act. By 1986, the U.S. government had gutted funding for renewable energy research. It slashed tax incentives for solar and wind, recommitting the nation to “cheap” fossil fuels (often imported) instead. Reagan scoffed that the Department of Energy hadn’t “produced a single barrel of oil,” as if measuring success only in continued petroleum output. In effect, the “road not taken”—toward sustainable energy—was abandoned just as it was beginning to unfold.
This pattern occurred on a global scale. In the 1980s and 1990s, initial attempts to invest in solar and wind energy struggled due to a lack of funding and attention. Oil-exporting countries, benefiting from high revenues, continued to invest heavily in fossil fuels. In the West, consumer culture resumed its reliance on oil, characterized by an increase in the popularity of cars and suburban expansion. Instead of moving away from our dependence on unstable petroleum resources, the world fell back into old habits. By the early 2000s, fossil fuels dominated, accounting for most energy use worldwide. When climate scientists began warning with increasing urgency that this path was financially unstable and environmentally devastating, they encountered significant resistance, primarily built by a deliberate misinformation campaign.
Disinformation: The Fossil Fuel Industry’s Propaganda War
If the world’s retreat from clean energy is a tragedy, it is not an accident. Powerful interests worked hard to muddy the waters and manipulate public perception. In fact, since the 1980s, the fossil fuel industry has perpetrated a multi-decade, multibillion-dollar disinformation campaign aimed at delaying climate action (The forgotten oil ads that told us climate change was nothing | Environment | The Guardian). The playbook was cynically brilliant: confuse the public, sow doubt about science, and assure everyone that more oil and gas posed no problem. Advertising was one weapon of choice. In the 1980s, as the science of global warming first gained attention, oil companies ran cheerful ads declaring that climate change was uncertain or a myth. Some ads carried headlines like “Oil pumps life,” extolling petroleum as the benevolent force of modern civilization. Others accused environmentalists of scaremongering—one campaign derided the “lies they tell our children,” implying that the real danger was not a changing climate but those who dared question the fossil-fueled status quo.
This assault on truth continued unabated for decades. Think tanks and front groups funded by coal and oil magnates churned out reports downplaying the climate threat, which friendly politicians then waved through Congress. Scientists who sounded the alarm were attacked as frauds or radicals. A now-infamous memo from that era declared the strategy bluntly: “Doubt is our product,” said tobacco executives in the 1960s, and Big Oil took that lesson to heart. By the 1990s and 2000s, as evidence of global warming became more difficult to deny, the narrative shifted slightly – from “it’s not happening” to “it’s happening but not our fault” or “it’s too expensive to fix”. The goal was never to win an intellectual argument but to stall action long enough to rake in a few more decades of profits.
The consequences of this campaign have been staggering. Public opinion is fractured and polarized. Meaningful climate policy in the U.S. has been stymied repeatedly, even as most Americans desire action. Internationally, climate agreements have been weakened under pressure from oil-backed lobbying. Meanwhile, greenhouse gas emissions climbed, and the clock ticked away. Perhaps the most Orwellian twist came just recently: in 2021, the CEOs of major oil companies testified before Congress about their role in spreading climate disinformation – and they brazenly lied under oath, denying what a mountain of documents and research has proven. As two historians of industry propaganda summarized it, the fossil fuel industry is now “misleading the public about its history of misleading the public.” The snake is eating its tail; the lie has become truth in the minds of those who peddle it.
The collective amnesia about the oil shocks…
We've encountered this situation before, and today feels even worse, especially after reading the remarkable editorial titled L’Internationale des censeurs by Benoît Bréville published in Le Monde Diplomatique this March. The parallels with history’s great propaganda campaigns are impossible to ignore. In George Orwell’s dystopian novel 1984, the ruling Party continually rewrites history and manipulates language to secure its power. “Everything faded into mist. The past is erased, the erasure was forgotten, the lie becomes truth,” Orwell wrote (Part 1, Section 7, 1984). Reading these words today feels unsettlingly familiar. The collective amnesia about the oil shocks — those defining events of the 20th century — is one example of “erasure.” How often do our current energy debates mention the 1973 or 1979 crises? Seldom, if at all. It is as if they never happened or their lessons hold no value. Instead, we hear rosy talk of “energy dominance” and endless resources without reckoning with the past instability. The disinformation machine has encouraged us to forget or trivialize real history, replacing it with a fantasy that more oil is always the answer.
Orwell also warned of “Newspeak”: language designed not to extend but to diminish the range of thought. Today, we see our version of Newspeak in the energy realm. Consider the lexicon being used to rebrand fossil fuels. In 2019, a U.S. government official went so far as to dub natural gas “freedom gas” and even referred to gas molecules as “molecules of U.S. freedom” (US energy department rebrands fossil fuels as 'molecules of freedom' | Gas | The Guardian) (US energy department rebrands fossil fuels as 'molecules of freedom' | Gas | The Guardian). This absurd euphemism—straight out of a marketing fever dream—was offered with a straight face in an official press release, as if calling gas by a patriotic name could disguise the fact that it’s the same old methane, driving the same warming of our atmosphere. Warping language to mask uncomfortable truths is a classic propaganda tactic. During World War I, deaths became “collateral damage.” During the Cold War, nuclear missiles were “peacekeepers.” And now, amid a climate crisis, gas is “freedom.” The irony would be laughable if the stakes weren’t so high.
We also hear the language of false choices and scapegoats. When blackouts or price spikes occur, the blame is often placed (incorrectly) on renewable energy or environmental regulations. Politicians speak of “clean coal” – a contradiction in terms – or tout oil drilling as a path to “energy independence” even as it deepens our dependence on a volatile global market. This is reminiscent of Orwell’s Ministry of Truth, which spewed slogans like “War is Peace” and “Ignorance is Strength.” Today’s equivalent might be “Pollution is Clean” or “Dependence is Independence.” Such doublespeak aims to dull the public’s critical thinking through constant repetition. If enough individuals accept these linguistic distortions, taking bold climate action becomes more difficult, and the fossil fuel status quo persists.
Conclusion: Remembering the Past, Protecting the Future
History does not repeat in perfect loops, but its echoes are loud for those willing to listen. Nearly half a century has passed since the first great oil shock, enough time for a new generation to come of age with little knowledge of that turbulent era. It is said that those who forget history are doomed to repeat it; today, we would add that those who distort history risk something even worse. When disinformation and censorship poison the well of public discourse, society loses its ability to learn, adapt, and make rational choices. We find ourselves unmoored, swayed by whoever shouts the most comforting lie or silences the most inconvenient truth. In such a state, progress becomes impossible and catastrophe becomes inevitable.
It is time to break this cycle of amnesia and manipulation. The instability of fossil fuels—laid bare by decades of price shocks and political crises—is not a partisan talking point but a plain fact of life. We ignore that reality at our peril. Every new oil boom or gas expansion that lulls us into complacency will eventually be followed by a bust or a shortage that throws us into chaos. We can choose to remember the lines at the gas stations in 1973, the desperate pleas of leaders in 1979, the economic pain of 2008, and the wake-up call of 2022. We can remember, and more importantly, act on that remembrance by accelerating the transition to stable, clean, local energy sources that cannot be weaponized or depleted on a whim.
Equally, we must demand honesty and transparency from our leaders and institutions. The war on truth—from outright climate denial to the insidious spin of corporate PR and government doublespeak—must be confronted at every turn. This means supporting independent journalism and science, calling out lies when we see them, and refusing to let false narratives unchallenged. It means protecting whistleblowers and truth-tellers instead of punishing them. And it means we take responsibility to stay informed and think critically rather than simply consuming the next soothing falsehood across our screen.
The climate is warming, the clock is ticking, and the truth is clear—if we dare to face it. In an age of misinformation, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act. So let us be revolutionaries in the most responsible sense: truth-tellers, memory-keepers, and builders of a new energy future. The challenges are immense, but so is our capacity for change when reality pierces through illusion. The unstable world of oil has had its century. Armed with knowledge of the past and a commitment to honesty, we can forge a more stable, sustainable, and just path forward. Future generations will thank us not for the comfort of soothing lies but for the courage of inconvenient truths. The time to act is now, before the door of opportunity closes, and we find ourselves, once again, gasping in the fumes of our forgetfulness.
History has given us a lesson. The truth is whispering its guidance. We must choose to listen.