I own a 1961 Buick with a 440-horse-power engine. With its anti-smog device and its large engine, in normal city driving it gets about six miles per gallon. It uses premium-grade gas, which presently sells for about 65 cents per gallon in my city. The fuel cost alone of my daily round trip to my office, which is about a mile and a half from my home, is therefore just over 30 cents. A pity, you might think, that I acquired this gas-guzzling monster in that dim past before the energy crisis struck. I must avow, however, that I bought this car in August 1975.

Despite appearances, my purchase was based on conscious calculation. I intended to use the car almost exclusively for trips back and forth to my office, a level of usage that would bring my annual fuel bill to around $120. I reasoned that no old car in my price range could cut more than $60 off this annual fuel bill and that this car, which was being sold by a long-established service-station owner in my neighborhood, would save in annual repair expenditures more than it would cost in higher outlays for fuel.

If I did what was right for myself, though, did I also do what was right for society? Since everyone who counts seems to agree that as a nation we must conserve energy, I am clearly out of step. But, say I, the appearances are again deceiving. Actually I am aiding the conservation effort: if I did not own this car, whoever owned it in my stead might drive 500 miles per month instead of a mere 100 miles. Although I did not particularly intend to help the energy-conservation effort when I bought the car, I am not unwilling to take credit when it can be had cheaply.

Well, perhaps not so very cheaply, since many people initially regard this line of reasoning as blatant sophistry and condemn me twice over for advancing it. Yet it is correct, at least as far as it goes. There are only two obvious alternatives for the disposition of this ancient Buick: either someone uses it or it goes to the junk heap. Sending it to the junk heap is absurd, however. Can one seriously justify scrapping all that good steel and glass, all those nicely harmonized gears and pistons and valves, in the name of conservation? If not, then someone must use the car, and I am probably the best such someone.

But perhaps the argument does not go far enough. At issue is not merely conservation but energy conservation. When pushed to this point, energy conservationists do one of two things. Either they relent and agree that saving the Buick is a lesser evil than scrapping it—even though not an absolute good—or they stand firm and admonish me to drive the car to Mexico, where I should turn it over to a poor rural family that will convert it into a housing unit.

So ardent, then, is the love of certain energy conservationists for BTU’s (British Thermal Units) of gasoline and other combustible hydrocarbons. And so great is their distaste for a 1961 Buick. A Buick is only a car, but BTU’s are a precious legacy which we must transmit intact to our descendants. A 1961 Buick is a vulgar sort of thing, but BTU’s are energy; and energy, as we are told in A Time to Choose, the prestigious report of the Ford Foundation Energy Policy Project, “is an integral part of the nation’s life-support system.”1 Use BTU’s and you sap the nation’s vital bodily fluids.

The only opponents of energy conservation seem to be the companies who are in the energy-supply business. Otherwise, there is not even the usual complement of cranks and reactionaries to hoot the idea down. Almost everyone seems to agree that energy conservation is in principle good. At the same time, however, it appears that everyone also disagrees on how much is enough (or too much), on how we should implement a conservation regime, and on who should bear the costs. In the light of our experience over the last two years, by which we plainly see that such disagreements are acute and possibly irreconcilable, it is worth asking whether energy conservation is actually as good in principle as everyone seems to believe.

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I

If energy conservation meant doing things which saved money as well as BTU’s, and which imposed no added inconvenience in time or other intangibles, everyone would agree not only on the principle but on the details. Almost surely there are conservation practices which, if undertaken, would make us in at least some few respects better off and in no respects worse off. The most commonly mentioned measures which probably fit this description are better design of new buildings; retrofitted insulation in many old buildings; more efficient space-heating systems; energy-efficiency labeling of appliances; and restoring normal competitive forces in the transportation sector by phasing out government regulation. According to my calculations from the data in A Time To Choose, assembled there under the rubric of “Technical Fix,” the energy savings from these measures would be about 7 per cent by 1985. That is, we as a nation would be using only about 108 quadrillion BTU’s per year (“quads”) instead of 116.

Other practices which are recommended for Technical Fix deserve a more skeptical reception. All those pertaining to the industrial sector, for instance, raise the question: if they are so good, why has industry not undertaken them already? If the answer is that the price of energy has historically been too low to make such practices worthwhile, then the past is clearly no guide to the future. Given the prospects of considerably higher energy prices in the future, businessmen should change their ways. If they do not change to more energy-efficient processes in every case, the explanation could lie either in the force of habit or in the fact that the practices alleged to save money as well as energy by the Ford Foundation staff are actually financially unattractive to the businessmen who must bear the costs and risks.

There is no need to be querulous, however. If we can get something for nothing we should find out where and how, and then just do it. The real problems arise when we are asked to exchange something for something, that is, to exchange the costs of energy conservation for the benefits of energy conservation. A Time To Choose prompts us to opt for energy-conservation strategies which will achieve Zero Energy Growth (ZEG) beginning in 1985. The strategy involves Technical Fix until 1985, at which time an energy surtax and various direct demand management measures will be brought into play to maintain our society at an annual energy consumption level of about 100 quads indefinitely. Although A Time To Choose minimizes the significance of the costs of ZEG, it does not deny they exist. Various critics of the report, including advisory board members to the Energy Policy Project itself, have emphasized these costs. The ZEG scenario, for instance, would shift large numbers of people from automobiles to bicycles and mass transit. It would locate some 17 million people in “new communities” of large multi-family units, the major advantage of which would be reduced commuting distance to places of work. It would encourage vacations closer to home. These do not seem like entirely costless shifts in style of living or in consumption patterns.

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A more serious question than what the costs might be, however, concerns the prospective benefits of reduced energy consumption. A careful look at the alleged benefits reveals that either they are illusory or else they can be achieved more effectively through other means. Reduced energy consumption might be a by-product of employing these other means, but in no case would it make sense to treat reduced energy consumption either as an end in itself or as the primary instrument of attaining other public purposes.

One alleged benefit of energy conservation is decreased vulnerability to “the oil weapon,” that is, an embargo of Arab oil similar to the one we experienced in 1973-74. It is misleading, though, to see this primarily as an energy problem. It is a problem of unreliable supply sources for a critical commodity. In such cases the standard response is to hold unusually large reserves, i.e., a stockpile. Automobile manufacturers, for instance, stockpile steel when they expect a long steelworkers’ strike. Coal-burning electric utilities stockpile coal when they anticipate a lengthy coal-miners’ strike. We presently hold large stockpiles of certain materials, like aluminum, for military emergency. Thus, stockpiling is a standard protective strategy for any consumer faced with unreliable supply sources, whether the sources be domestic or foreign and no matter the physical nature of the commodity.

No one knows how much oil is presently held as a hedge against an embargo. Private parties have an incentive to conceal such information, since in the event of an embargo there will be strict price controls and a black market to which access will be simpler if government agencies are kept in the dark about the parties’ pre-embargo holdings. We can be sure, though, that the present inventories in private hands are not large enough, since the prospect of price ceilings strongly discourages appropriate private hoarding behavior. The Federal Energy Administration, in Project Independence Blueprint, estimated that the 1973-74 embargo reduced GNP by $10-20 billion. The FEA further calculated that a one-million-barrel-per-day supply interruption lasting one year could cost the economy about $33 billion and that, given certain cost assumptions for creating and maintaining a stockpile, the nation would be well advised to store enough oil to offset this shortfall if the chances are any more than one-in-five of its occurring in the next ten years. The same basic conclusion is reached by Princeton economist Robert E. Kuenne and his colleagues from the Institute for Defense Analyses in a recent issue of Policy Analysis. They recommend a storage program of some 4.4 billion barrels, to be held mainly in salt domes in the Gulf of Mexico, which would permit a daily draw-down of 4 million barrels over a three-year period. The storage cost would be about 96 cents per barrel per year, or less than 10 per cent of the present OPEC price per barrel.2

Of course, if one is willing to threaten, or actually use, force either to deter an embargo or to terminate it once it is in progress, a much smaller, and correspondingly less expensive, storage program would be optimal. Energy conservation is therefore like the threat of force: it can reduce the size, and therefore the expense, of the optimal stockpile, provided that it is directed specifically at insecure oil imports. Some form of tariff or import quota is the instrument with the required accuracy of aim, however, not energy conservation in general. Once imports are limited, energy conservation, in the sense of reduced consumption, will come about automatically, provided the federal government permits the price mechanism to work unimpeded.

There is no doubt that reduced imports, with or without higher prices, will increase the pressure to develop domestic energy sources. There is also no doubt that such development will have adverse effects on the environment. Preventing or minimizing such effects is another primary objective of the energy-conservation movement.

Some preliminary questions that must be raised in this connection concern the magnitude of the effects and how strongly we wish to avert them. In general, the answers are that, in the realm of conventional fossil fuels, the likely effects will not be as large or as severe as many or most environmentalists seem to fear. Even a dozen large strip-mining operations would be virtually lost in the vast spaces of the Northern Great Plains; the stripped lands can almost always be restored to their original (flat) contours; and perhaps half of these lands (or more) can be successfully revegetated in a five- or ten-year period.3 Offshore oil and gas development along most of the East Coast will not affect recreational and aesthetic uses of the coastal zone, since the prospective drilling sites are almost all 50-100 miles from shore. The development will not be visible, and accidental oil spills will almost never reach shore. The environmental outlook for offshore oil and gas development in Alaska is generally less favorable, but only a careful site-by-site analysis will reveal where energy development would entail costs which outweigh the benefits.4

More generally, in the area of fossil-fuels development the interesting decisions are almost always site-specific. This is as true for coal development in Wyoming and Montana or offshore oil on the East or West Coasts as it is for the Alaskan sites. It should be obvious that a generalized policy of promoting energy conservation gives absolutely no guidance on such matters. All it tells us is that, overall and in the long run, energy conservation will permit us to develop fewer such sites than we otherwise would, a virtual truism. As with reducing oil-import vulnerability, the sensible policy would be to focus on the desired level of environmental protection, and if possible on its location as well, and then to let conservation come about as a by-product through a rise in prices. By some perverse illogic, ZEG advocates seem to have made environmental protection into the by-product rather than the objective, and ZEG into the objective rather than the by-product.

The same argument applies with even greater force to policy decisions concerning the management of nuclear-fission technologies. Nuclear power is very worrisome indeed, much more so than conventional fossil fuels. What to do with spent, but still dangerous, nuclear fuels is the outstanding problem, though there are other unresolved questions as well. Reading between the lines, one sees that the authors of A Time To Choose are much more concerned about nuclear power than about any or all fossil-fuel developments, and rightly so. If this reading is correct, then one must wonder how ZEG addresses the problem. Technically, a ZEG world dominated by nuclear-fission energy sources is no less conceivable than a ZEG world with no fission reactors at all. Whether we want one or the other or something in between is too important a social decision to be left to the vagaries of a diffuse policy of energy conservation.

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The third popular reason advanced on behalf of energy conservation is that we should protect the welfare of future generations. Fossil fuels are a finite, and hence depletable, resource, the argument runs, so we ought not to squander them on ourselves at the expense of our descendants. Energy conservation will curb our self-indulgence.

This argument is in one sense irrefutable: a BTU of coal, oil, or gas burned up today is burned up forever, and in its raw form it is absolutely unavailable to our descendants. However, we would probably injure rather than benefit our descendants by transmitting these BTU’s in raw form rather than in the form of capital equipment, which is at least one other form that BTU’s can take. All other things being equal, capital is better, since it embodies not only energy but materials and labor and technology. On the other hand, it is obvious that the majority of BTU’s used in any time period are allocated to consumption rather than to capital formation. Is there reason to think that this allocation is inequitable, that it is tipped too much in favor of consumption at the expense of capital?

I suspect not, although this is frankly a question to which no one has a definite answer. The first point to note, though, is that at least since the beginnings of capitalism each generation has been, on the average, better off than its immediate predecessor, largely because it has inherited its predecessors’ accumulated capital stock. If this process continues, regardless of the inter-generational distribution of fossil-fuel stocks, our descendants will owe us a debt rather than vice versa. If the process does not continue, on the other hand, the distribution of fossil-fuel stocks might have little to do with the fact. The idea of “capital stock” in this context is quite inclusive. It embraces knowledge, for example, and the capacity to transmit and increase knowledge. If the scholastic-aptitude-tests are any indication, each annual cohort of high-school graduates for the last twelve years has been less talented than its predecessor. In the final analysis, we may be sapping the welfare of future generations far more by our failing to replenish the talent pool than by our depleting the world pool of oil.

In any case, even if the depletion of the fossil-fuel stock is proceeding too rapidly, from the point of view of subsequent generations, energy conservation is not much of a solution. The solution is research and development. Ultimately, a technological breakthrough will be necessary, probably either in solar energy or in hydrogen-fusion technologies. If it does come, all the present talk of energy conservation will be seen as a historical curiosity. If it does not, energy prices will rise slowly to reflect fossil-fuel scarcities and the high cost of solar and other technologies. High prices will enforce a stern discipline on all users of energy and in that case too the present rhetoric about our “responsibility” to conserve energy will appear to have been irrelevant.

To sum up, then, energy conservation is a very blunt policy instrument when it comes to reducing our import vulnerability, protecting the environment, or transmitting an equitable stock of worldly wealth to succeeding generations. Although higher energy prices and reduced energy consumption may be a natural by-product of whatever we do to solve these problems, energy conservation is in no case the best strategy with which to approach them. Indeed, one ought to fear that the rhetoric of energy conservation might divert intellectual and political energy from real problems with real—and difficult—solutions. Most people find it easier and more entertaining to make up policies concerning the disposition of my 1961 Buick than to press for an adequate stockpile of crude oil in Gulf of Mexico salt domes or to argue for reasonable limitations on the growth of nuclear power.

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II

If energy conservation cannot be justified on practical grounds, how explain its great popularity as a political rallying cry?

It is bold, it is comprehensive, it attacks many problems, and it seems to attack them root and branch. To brandish the sword of energy conservation is figuratively if not literally heroic. To ride a bicycle to work in the name of conservation is to place oneself in the tradition of Achilles, Hector, and Beowulf. Indeed, the energy conservationist reaches back to the heroic archetype, Prometheus—only in this case the aim is to take fire away from mankind rather than to bestow it. Hence the energy conservationist can burn with atavistic heroic ardor while at the same time moving comfortably within the anti-heroic tradition of modernism.

Like all heroes, the energy conservationist is doomed to become entangled in a web of troubles spun partly by himself. Once bewitched by the spell of a grand design, like energy conservation, it is almost impossible to back away and look forthrightly at the concrete problems for which it is alleged as a remedy. These too fall under the spell. A grand design, after all, requires a grand problem of which it can be worthy. Thus, in place of diverse problems with diverse names—oil-import vulnerability, environmental degradation, inequitable wealth transfers to future generations—we get the single great woe, “the energy crisis.” Once the talisman of energy conservation is in hand it creates and sustains the necessary demonology. If energy conservation is initially appealing because it is so bold, it retains its appeal because its very boldness dissolves the critical mind-set which might challenge its validity.

For those who disapprove of Western, and particularly American, bourgeois materialism, energy conservation is the ultimate rhetorical weapon. “Consumption,” Hannah Arendt warned in The Human Condition, “harbors the grave danger that eventually no object of the world will be safe from . . . annihilation. . . .” That warning came almost twenty years ago, and it may not have been clear then precisely what annihilation implied. Now it is clear: one day there will be an end to fossil fuels.

Being a natural resource, fossil fuels appear to give us something for nothing. Fossil fuels belong to the sun, not to man, and by using them we inevitably presume on the benevolence of powers not our own. The bourgeoisie has always done so, of course, and has always been despised for it by the aristocratic class and by intellectuals. First there was machinery. Then there was the economic dividend provided by the division of labor. Next there was the capitalist miracle of compound interest. Yet the problem with attacking any or all of these wealth-increasing powers has been that defenders of the bourgeois order could argue that something for nothing was actually a good deal, and that even if the social cost were not literally zero, on balance and in the long run, it was fairly low. Now, however, the critics of the bourgeois order have an unassailable argument: gains to man are won directly at the expense of nature. Contemporary man’s idle pleasures are made possible only by exploiting nature’s eons-long frugality. The popular flavor of the argument is evident in the recent campaign literature of the energy conservationists’ favorite presidential candidate, Congressman Morris Udall:

No longer can we continue our blatant waste of the world’s limited supply of raw materials. Conspicuous consumption must be eliminated from our lives, if we are to survive the long haul.

No longer can we as a nation afford the energy waste of gas-guzzling automobiles and meaningless mobility.

No longer can we overindulge ourselves with frivolous electrical appliances and gadgets cluttering up our kitchen counter-tops and our homes.

No longer can we rape the land and our environment to satisfy unlimited greed and desire for luxury.

Two years ago, if someone had asked how government might proceed to wage war on materialism and to alter the style of living of millions of Americans, I certainly would have been unable to propose a policy instrument. Suddenly, the instrument appears to be at hand. Not surprisingly, energy conservationists are divided, or perhaps ambivalent, on the desirability of using this instrument for such ends. Congressman Udall is unusually forthright on the issue. A Time To Choose, however, may be more representative. On the one hand, the authors tell us that ZEG will not force us to skimp on amenities and that it will permit more material prosperity than the country now enjoys. On the other hand, we are also told that one of the reasons for limiting energy growth is that “American society has concentrated too much on making and acquiring ever greater quantities of goods and has neglected the community and non-material needs of people.” The sometimes hidden agenda of the energy conservationists may not be more important to them than the public agenda, e.g., environmental protection, but it is the only agenda for which the favored solution is particularly relevant.

The psychological force of the energy conservationists’ argument is remarkable. There is no getting around it, burning up the BTU’s in a gallon of gasoline burns them up forever. They cannot be retrieved, reconstructed, recycled, or renovated. They are destroyed, and we are the agents of their destruction. Eloquent testimony about the deep reservoirs of guilt tapped by this fact is to be found in a letter by “a housewife and artist” published last winter in the New York Times Magazine. She rides a bicycle, keeps the heat down to 65 degrees, composts the family food scraps, saves newspapers, and has only two children. Still it is not enough:

After all my efforts, I began to realize that to be alive now is to be guilty of shortening mankind’s existence. I can’t buy bread in a plastic bag, eat a hamburger, wear knit pants, or flush a toilet without being guilty of consuming some product that is either deadly to life’s long-range continuance or in diminishing supply. So, I must cope with my individual guilt as a modern consumer, or run naked into the woods and starve.

To assuage my guilt I have decided to conserve as much as physically possible, to use resources and technology efficiently, and to enrich life now by creating works of art. What more can I do?

Guilt is not the only psychological condition to which the doctrine of energy conservation speaks so compellingly. There are also infantile feelings of dependency. Energy is Mother Nature’s milk for our industrial society. As consumers, we sense that it comes into our homes and automobiles virtually on demand. If it stops or slows down, we do not regard it as a problem of mere supply shortages or high prices—which could, after all, happen to any “ordinary” commodity—we see it as an ominous deprivation. We become petulant and demand of Father Government that he take the Mean Uncle oil companies in hand and stop them from interfering with Mother Nature’s bounteous flow.

But one need not speculate about infantile needs to recognize that energy is a highly charged psychological symbol. An “integral part of the nation’s life-support system,” says A Time To Choose. “Why should we mine coal in Montana, or drill for oil in Alaska, to keep the lights on in Tokyo?” is a favorite question of energy conservationists. The ultra-nationalism, and perhaps even racism, implied by such a question is normally not at all recognized, so powerful is the conception of coal and oil as some of the nation’s vital signs. That the Japanese in exchange for our coal and oil will return to us radios and cameras and (very energy-efficient) automobiles seems like a contemptible answer.

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Frugality and self-sufficiency are values defined by the exoteric doctrines of the energy-conservation movement. The movement has its esoteric side as well, however, with a special sort of fascination. It is a recurring disease of intellectuals to believe that there is a strong causal connection between social theory and social fact. The notion is that a great social transformation must be accompanied, if not always preceded, by a conceptual or theoretical breakthrough. Conversely, the conceptual breakthrough induces or speeds great social changes. The theoretical vanguard of the energy-conservation movement is presently at work developing what might be called the BTU theory of value. Eventually this theory will go the same way as the labor theory of value, but in the meantime it is capable of doing much mischief.

In its simplest form, the BTU theory of value holds that all human actions should be measured in terms of how much energy they require and that, for roughly equivalent actions, that action is to be preferred which requires less energy. Hence, mass transit is to be preferred to the private automobile, high-density residential development to low-density development, and aluminum to steel in automobile construction.

The first problem with the theory is that roughly equivalent actions are not really equivalent. Mass transit, for instance, in many cases gives a lower quality of service than the private automobile. If the levels of service (convenience, reliability, comfort, etc.) were identical, then the mass-transit system would probably be prohibitively expensive. Herein lies the second, and more telling problem with the theory, namely, that energy is only one of many inputs into producing a good or service. To choose a production process on this basis alone is in effect to assume that, for each of the alternative processes being considered, all the other inputs are of exactly equal value.

Put this way, the theory is obviously untenable, but the scientific vanguard among the theoreticians has a solution: convert all inputs into BTU’s and then choose the process with the lowest BTU consumption. This procedure is of course exceedingly complicated in practice. Although one can come up with BTU values for aluminum ingot, cement casing, and the like, it is a laborious task to estimate for any given process the relevant physical parameters of all the materials to which the appropriate BTU conversion factors are to be applied. The main difficulty is conceptual rather than practical, however, and the main conceptual difficulty is that some energy comes from the sun, which is free, while some energy comes from fossil fuels, which are not free. Energy which is free must either be excluded from the calculations or given some arbitrary value. It is no surprise that the theorists are in their greatest quandary about how to put a BTU value on human labor, which is ultimately nourished and sustained by crops and animals drawing on the sun’s free energy. Even those who are willing to put some BTU value on labor are unable to differentiate between the BTU value of an unskilled worker and that of a brilliant engineer.

The most bizarre results of the BTU theory of value are evident when the theorists talk about energy-development policies. Do not develop an energy source, the argument runs, unless it will yield more energy than is consumed in developing it. This is the “net-energy-yield” test. It sounds plausible until one remembers that, given the second law of thermodynamics, every human action except developing energy resources represents a net energy loss for mankind. If the net-energy-yield test were to be applied more generally, we ought all to go immediately into rigor mortis, or at least assume the lotus position for hours on end. Why a social decision rule which gives preposterous results for any development decision outside the energy field, like building a ship or rehabilitating a slum or opening a copper mine, should make any more sense when it comes to digging coal or pumping oil is unfathomable.

Naturally, the BTU theory of value finds its most receptive audience among scientists. Science magazine recently published an article on the subject to which the editors gave the flattering subhead, “The energy unit measures environmental consequences, economic costs, material needs, and resource availability.”5 The National Science Foundation Office of Energy Policy and the Energy Research and Development Administration (ERDA), both dominated by physical scientists, have taken steps to promote the BTU theory of value. It is easy to see why physical scientists should feel a significant emotional and intellectual affinity with a theory grounded in physical reality. In addition they are likely to welcome the BTU theory as a relief from the awful relativism with which conventional economics treats the matter of values. A final reason the theory is favored by physical scientists, and the one with the greatest explanatory power, I believe, is political. If the BTU theory of value is mishmash, it is at least scientifically esoteric mishmash. If we are ever so unfortunate as to have serious social decisions made using the BTU theory of value, it will almost surely be the physical scientists who dominate the political dialogue.

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III

In sum, then, energy conservation is a popular political rallying cry not because of its intrinsic merit as an instrument of public policy but because it expresses the anti-bourgeois ideology of the dominant intellectual class and because it has a ring of rational self-sacrifice which alleviates great psychologial distress experienced by large segments of the public. As the BTU theory of value evolves into the movement’s esoteric doctrine, the ability of ordinary people to pierce the veil of ideology and see that little or nothing lies behind it is likely to diminish even further.

Energy conservation is a solution in search of a problem. The problems it purports to solve are best addressed by other means. Our oil-import vulnerability should be dealt with by a combination of stockpiling, import quotas, and the threat of forceful intervention. Environmental degradation may be prevented by legal and administrative regulation and by appropriately scaled pollution taxes. Assuring energy for future generations requires a technological solution. The likelihood of finding such a solution will be determined by luck and skill, but the urgency with which it is sought will be powerfully determined by the actuality and the expectation of rising energy prices. By saving energy we can perhaps save our souls, but not much else.

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It is very likely that reduced energy consumption will be a natural consequence of implementing most of the proposed solutions to these three problems. It is likely but not inevitable. If prices go up and we consume less than we otherwise would have, no great catastrophe will occur. The energy conservationists are right about that. On the other hand, we might be able to have our cake and eat it too. Everyone would be happy with that outcome except those energy conservationists who regard reduced consumption as an end in itself. At the present time, unfortunately, that description seems to fit a very large number of them.

1 A Time To Choose (Ballinger, 1974), p. 1.

2 Robert E. Kuenne, Gerald F. Higgins, Robert J. Michaels, and Mary Summerfield, “A Policy to Protect the U.S. Against Oil Embargoes,” Policy Analysis, Fall 1975, pp. 571-97.

3 Northern Great Plains Resources Program, “Effects of Coal Development in the Northern Great Plains,” U.S. Government Printing Office, April 1975.

4 U.S. Department of Interior, “Final Environmental Statement: Proposed Increase in Oil and Gas Leasing in the Outer Continental Shelf,” July 1975.

5 Martha W. Gilliland, “Energy Analysis and Public Policy,” September 26, 1975, pp. 1051-56.

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