Fragility
and Collapse: Slowly at first, then all at once
Dmitry Orlov
Dmitry Orlov
5
June, 2012
I
have been predicting collapse for over five years now. My prediction
is that the USA will collapse financially, economically and
politically within the foreseeable future... and this hasn’t
happened yet. And so, inevitably, I am asked the same question over
and over again: “When?” And, inevitably, I answer that I don’t
make predictions as to timing. This leaves my questioners
dissatisfied, and so I thought that I should try to explain why it is
that I don’t make predictions as to timing. I will also try to
explain how one might go about creating such predictions,
understanding full well that the result is highly subjective.
You
see, predicting that something is going to happen is a lot
easier than predicting when something will happen. Suppose you
have an old bridge: the concrete is cracked, chunks of it are missing
with rusty rebar showing through. An inspector declares it
“structurally deficient.” This bridge is definitely going to
collapse at some point, but on what date? That is something that
nobody can tell you. If you push for an answer, you might hear
something like this: If it doesn’t collapse within a year, then it
might stay up for another two. And if it stays up that long, then it
might stay up for another decade. But if it stays up for an entire
decade, then it will probably collapse within a year or two of that,
because, given its rate of deterioration, at that point it
will be entirely unclear what is holding it up.
You
see, the timing estimates are inevitably subjective and, if you will,
impressionistic, but there are objective things to pay attention to:
how much structure is left (given that large chunks of concrete are
continuing to fall out of it and into the river below) and the rate
at which it is deteriorating (measurable in chunks per month). Most
people have trouble assessing such risks. There are two problems: the
first is that people often think that they would be able to assess
the risk more accurately if they had more data. It does not occur to
them that the information they are looking for is not available
simply because it does not exist. And so they incorporate more data,
hoping that they are relevant, making their estimate even less
accurate.
The
second problem is that people assume that they are playing a game of
chance, and that it’s a fair one: something Nassim Nicholas Taleb
calls the “ludic fallacy.” If you drive over a structurally
deficient bridge every day, it could be said that you are gambling
with your life; but are you gambling, exactly? Gambling
normally involves games of chance: roll of the dice, flip of the
coin, unless someone is cheating. Fair games form a tiny,
insignificant subset of all possible games, and they can only be
played in contrived, controlled, simplified circumstances, using a
specially designed apparatus that is functioning perfectly. Suppose
someone tells you that he just flipped a coin 10 times and all 10
were heads? What is the probability that the next flip will be heads
too? If you think 50%, then you are discounting the very high
probability that the game is rigged. And this makes you a sucker.
Games
played directly against nature are never fair. You could say that
nature always cheats: just as you are about to win the jackpot, the
casino gets hit by an asteroid. You might think that such unlikely
events are not significant, but it turns out that they are: Taleb’s
black swans rule the world. Really, nature doesn’t so much cheat as
not give a damn about your rules. But these rules are all you have go
by: a bridge is sound if it corresponds to the picture in the head of
its designer. The correspondence is almost perfect when it’s new,
but as it ages a noticeable divergence takes place: cracks appear and
the structure decays. At some more or less arbitrary point it is
declared unsafe. But there is no picture in anyone’s head of it
collapsing, because, you see, it wasn’t designed to collapse; it
was designed to stay up. The information as to when it will collapse
does not exist. There is a trick, however: you can observe the rate
of divergence; when it goes from linear to exponential (that is, it
begins to double) then collapse is not far, and you might even be
able to set an upper limit on how long it will take. If the number of
cement chunks falling out of your bridge keeps doubling, you can
compute the moment when every last piece of the bridge will be in the
river, and that is your upper bound.
Still,
your forecast will be subjective (or, if you like, based on your luck
as a forecaster) because you are still just playing the odds. If you
measure that the deterioration in your bridge is linear (say one
chunk falls out per month) then you extrapolate that it will remain
linear; if it is exponential (2x chunks from the previous month) then
you extrapolate that it will remain exponential, and, if you are
lucky, it will. But the odds of it remaining one or the other are
strictly in your own mind: they are not predictable but subjective.
Calling them “random” or “chaotic” doesn’t add much: the
information you are looking for simply does not exist.
To
summarize: it is possible to predict that something
will happen with uncanny accuracy. For example, all empires
eventually collapse, with no exceptions; therefore, the USA will
collapse. There, I did it. But it is not possible to predict when
something will happen because of the
problem of missing information: we have a have mental model of how
something continues to exist, not of how it unexpectedly ceases to
exist. However, by watching the rate of deterioration, or divergence
from our mental model, we can sometimes tell when the date is drawing
near. The first type of prediction—that something
will collapse—is extremely useful, because it tells you how to
avoid putting at risk that which you cannot afford to lose. But there
are situations when you have no choice; for instance, you were born
into an empire that’s about to collapse. And that is where the
second type of prediction—that something will collapse real
soon—comes in very handy,
because it tells you that it’s time to pull your bacon out of the
fire.
Let
me stress again: the process of coming up with such predictions is
subjective. You might reason it out, or you might base it on a
certain tingling sensation in the back of your neck. Still, people
like to theorize: some declare that the events in question are
random, or chaotic, and then go on to formulate mathematical models
of randomness and of chaos. But the timing of large-scale,
“improbable” events is not random or chaotic, it is unknown.
With regular, small-scale events statisticians can cheat by averaging
over them. That is useful if you are selling insurance—against
events you can foresee. Of course, a large-scale event can still wipe
you out by putting your reinsurer/underwriter out of business. There
is fire insurance, flood insurance (not so much any more; in the US
it is now underwritten directly by taxpayers), but there is no
collapse insurance, because there is no way to objectively estimate
the risk.
Plugging
in everyone’s favorite Yogi Berra quote: “Making predictions is
hard, especially if they are about the future.” Well, I beg to
differ: making predictions about the past is just as difficult. The
USSR collapsed unexpectedly in 1991, taking the “experts” by
surprise. The root cause of the collapse remains veiled in mystery;
the reason for the exact timing remains a complete mystery. Expert
Kremlinologists were geared up to bet on minor power shifts within
the Politburo, expert economists were entirely convinced about the
superiority of free market capitalism over a planned socialist
economy, expert military strategists could debate the merits of the
Strategic Defense Initiative (there aren’t any) but they were all
blindsided when the whole Soviet thing just folded up and blew away.
Similarly, most political experts in the US are confident in their
estimation of the odds that Obama will or will not be reelected in
November 2012; what they can’t give you is the odds that the
elections won’t be held, and that nobody will get to be president.
Mind you, these odds are not zero, and we can be sure that such a day
will come; we just don’t know when.
Experts
can make predictions only within their area of expertise. They are
constitutionally incapable of predicting when their area of expertise
will undergo a spontaneous existence failure. Not being an expert in
any of these disciplines, I knew that the USSR was going to collapse
a year or so before it did. How did I know? By watching carefully,
and by realizing that things can’t go on much longer in the same
direction. I am doing the same with the USA now. So, let’s watch
together.
*
* *
The
US Federal government is currently spending about $300 billion per
month. To do so, it “borrows” around $100 billion per month. The
word “borrows” is in quotes, because most of that new debt is
created by the Treasury and bought up by the Federal Reserve, so in
essence the government just writes itself a check for $100 billion
dollars every month. If this continues forever, then the US Dollar
will become worthless, so a push is on to get foreign central banks
to take on some of this debt as well. They can do that, of course,
but, seeing as the US Dollar is on track to become worthless, they
have been decreasing their holdings of US Treasuries rather than
increasing them. Nobody can tell how long such a scenario can
continue to unfold, so what one looks for in a situation like this is
signs of desperation.
Recently
there was a flurry of activity around China: Secretary of State
Hillary Clinton and Secretary of the Treasury Timothy Geithner, each
with a large retinue, went to China on a high-level visit, during
which the news coverage in the US was dominated by reports about a
blind Chinese activist who was kept under house arrest, from which he
escaped to the US embassy, and was eventually allowed to leave the
country and come to the US. Hardly anyone in China knows who this
person is, and the Chinese official reaction to demands that he be
released were, pretty much, “Okey-dokey.” (The fact that Hillary
seems to have given up on wearing makeup was considered newsworthy as
well.)
Why
such a powerful smokescreen? What were they hiding? Well, a couple of
items of interest. First, it turns out that China
can now monetize US debt directly.
That’s right, the ability to print US currency is now distributed
between the US and China. There is a special private line between
Beijing and the US Treasury, and China can buy US Treasuries without
going through any market mechanisms or making the price public.
Secondly, China
can now directly buy US banks.
Back in the good old days attempts by foreign powers to use US
Treasuries to buy equity in enterprises in the US was considered as
akin to an act of war; nowadays—not so much. Basically, Hillary and
Timmy went to China and said: “Take our financial system, please!”
What they got is the financial equivalent of a subcutaneous morphine
pump: something they give to terminal cancer patients, for continuous
pain control. But what if it runs dry before the patient expires?
That would be painful, wouldn’t it?
The
US is bleeding money in other ways: wealthy individuals are moving
abroad and renouncing their US citizenship in increasing numbers,
like so many rats fleeing a sinking ship. A high-profile example is
Eduardo Saverin, one of the founders of Facebook, who renounced
his US citizenship
prior to the ridiculous fiasco that was the Facebook IPO. Congress is
busy drafting legislation to stop this sort of thing from happening,
or at least make it a huge boondoggle from a tax perspective. There
is also a provision in the works to take away people’s passports if
the IRS decides that they owe more than $50k. Somebody ought to do
something! Is it not possible to renounce your citizenship and buy
votes in Congress at the same time? It should be... In any case, we
can be sure that what is now still a trickle will turn into a flood.
That is what I saw in Russia after the Soviet collapse: the former
Soviet elite lost all faith in the system and tried to grab a chunk
and run away with it. This pattern continues to this day: once
something collapses, it tends to stay collapsed for a long time.
And
why wouldn’t you want to flee like a rat, if you happen to be one
of the many temporary millionaires who made a fortune in the US
economy and do not wish to lose it? The US financial system is
broken, and by now it is clear that it is not going to be fixed. Case
in point: Jon Corzine, former Senator, former Governor of New Jersey,
former head of MF Global, made some bad bets, then dipped into his
customers’ accounts to cover his losses. Is he in jail? No, he is
still at large and has nothing to fear. Furthermore, he is high on
Obama’s campaign donor list. JP Morgan just reported a $2 billion
trading loss (actually
more like $8 billion).
Is anything going to be done about it? Of course not! JP Morgan has a
long and proud history of mismanaging risk, be it by using
preposterous mathematical models (Value at Risk) or by having traders
with nicknames like “the Whale” spontaneously decide that they
are God and go hugely “naked long.” Since this was all done with
taxpayer-backstopped funds (like other big US banks, JP Morgan is on
government life support) there was some discussion as to whether the
Whale was hedging, or betting, or gambling (with public funds). But
nobody even knows the difference any more, and you can be sure that
nobody will go to jail over this either.
And
that brings us to the political system. Are the politicians even
vaguely interested in reforming the financial system? No, they are
too afraid of it. The financial reform legislation, such as it is,
was drafted by the financial companies themselves and by their
lobbyists. The politicians would be afraid to go near it, for fear of
endangering their electoral campaign contributions. As long as
campaign funds are flowing into their coffers, and as long as none of
their banker friends ever goes to jail, they will remain unconcerned
about finance. What they are increasingly paranoid about is their own
physical safety. Both parties have repeatedly exhibited an unseemly
amount of bipartisanship when it came to passing legislation to
compromise civil liberties, to increase social controls and
surveillance, and to take away their citizens’ rights. The 2013
national security budget promises to top $1 trillion. Again, the
parallel with pre- and post-collapse USSR is striking: the political
system there too was unreformable, hollowed out, and used for
personal advantage, as a private service to the wealthy and the
powerful. Criminals, such as Boris Berezovsky, ran for public office
simply in order to gain the immunity from prosecution that came with
it. This pattern continues to this day, especially in Ukraine: lose
an election—go to jail. Get reelected—and you can use the voters
who didn’t vote for you for target practice. Once a political
system collapses, everyone strenuously denies that it has, but then
it tends to stay collapsed for a long time.
What
does tend to change rather suddenly is commerce. If you have enough
financial and political shenanigans, high-level corruption and rule
of law going by the wayside, daily life goes on just like before, for
a while—until suddenly it doesn’t. In St. Petersburg, Russia, the
difference between the summers of 1989 and 1990 was quite striking,
because by the summer of 1990 commerce ground to a halt. There were
empty shelves in shops, many of which were closed. People were
refusing to accept money as payment. Imports dried up, and the only
way to procure sought-after items like shampoo was from somebody who
had traveled abroad, in exchange for jewelry or other items of value.
And that occurred in spite of the fact that the USSR had a better
overall business plan: theirs was: “Sell oil and gas, buy
everything.” Whereas the business plan of the US has come down to:
“Print money, use it to buy everything” (most consumer products,
plus ¾ of the oil used for moving them and everything else around).
The
imported oil is, of course, the Achilles’ heel of US commerce. The
US economy was built around the principle that transportation costs
don’t matter. Everything travels large distances all the time,
mostly on rubber wheels, fueled by gasoline or diesel: people commute
to work, drive to go shopping, taxi their children to and from
various activities; goods move to stores in trucks; and the end
product of all this activity—trash—gets trucked long distances as
well. All of these transportation costs are no longer negligible;
rather, they are fast becoming a major constraint on economic
activity. The recurring pattern of the recent years is an oil price
spike, followed by another round of recession. You might think that
this pattern could continue ad infinitum, but then you’d just be
extrapolating. More importantly, there is a reason to think that this
pattern comes to a rather sudden end.
*
* *
It
is something of a general property of things that things build up
slowly and collapse quickly. Examples of this sort abound (buildings,
bridges, dams, military empires, economies, supernovae...)
Counterexamples—things that appear suddenly and then slowly
decay—are harder to find (mushrooms and cucumbers come to mind, but
these are manifestations of an associated process of slow growth and
sudden collapse, the collapse normally occurring right after the
first frost). Some time ago it occurred to me that the symmetrical
bell curve which is commonly used to model global oil depletion,
known as the Hubbert Curve of Peak Oil theory, should actually be
lopsided, like almost everything else, but I lacked the math to
illustrate this point.
Eventually Prof. Ugo Bardi came through with a wonderfully simple and clear model, which he called the Seneca Effect. Unlike other models, such as the original Limits to Growth model, which, although vindicated, is too complex for most people to grasp at a sitting, the Seneca Effect is simplicity itself. This model initially includes two elements: a resource base and an economy. The rate of development of the resource base is proportional to both the size of the resource base and the size of the economy. Also, the economy decays over time at a rate proportional to its size. Set up the initial conditions, run the simulation, and you get a symmetrical bell curve. Now add a third element, which can be variously named “bureaucracy” or “pollution” or “overhead”: all the inescapable requirements or inevitable side-effects of having an economy. This element does not contribute to the rate at which the resource base is developed. It also decays at a rate proportional to its size. Divert some fraction of the resource flow to this element, run the model, and out pops a lopsided curve: rising slowly, falling swiftly: the Seneca Cliff. The larger the fraction being diverted, the more lopsided the curve:
Eventually Prof. Ugo Bardi came through with a wonderfully simple and clear model, which he called the Seneca Effect. Unlike other models, such as the original Limits to Growth model, which, although vindicated, is too complex for most people to grasp at a sitting, the Seneca Effect is simplicity itself. This model initially includes two elements: a resource base and an economy. The rate of development of the resource base is proportional to both the size of the resource base and the size of the economy. Also, the economy decays over time at a rate proportional to its size. Set up the initial conditions, run the simulation, and you get a symmetrical bell curve. Now add a third element, which can be variously named “bureaucracy” or “pollution” or “overhead”: all the inescapable requirements or inevitable side-effects of having an economy. This element does not contribute to the rate at which the resource base is developed. It also decays at a rate proportional to its size. Divert some fraction of the resource flow to this element, run the model, and out pops a lopsided curve: rising slowly, falling swiftly: the Seneca Cliff. The larger the fraction being diverted, the more lopsided the curve:
There
is one problem with this model: we don’t really know which elements
of the economy are productive (in terms of contributing to the rate
at which the resource base is converted into capital) and which ones
are non-productive and belong in the bureaucracy/pollution/overhead
bucket. When we look at the world, we see the two summed together and
can’t tease them apart. With this detail hidden from view, collapse
becomes hard to see in the aggregate: the people may be starving, but
there is also a lot of fat bureaucrats carving up, roasting and
eating each others’ ample buttocks, so it all averages out for a
while longer. But you can still tease it apart based on the fact that
certain things simply stop happening. The progression to watch for
is: things get bigger and bigger, then suddenly stop.
An associated problem is that the fraction of resources going to bureaucracy/pollution/overhead usually starts out being reasonable (a quarter or a third or so) but the closer the economy comes to collapse, the higher this fraction becomes. We can observe this in the US: more and more resources have been allocated to bailouts, make-work “economic stimulus” projects and national security; more and more pollution (and associated costs) from offshore oil spills and from the development of marginal, dirty energy resources such as shale oil and tar sands. As the productive part of the economy begins to fail, the bureaucrats grow desperate but, being bureaucrats, all they can do is endlessly increase the bureaucratic burden, accelerating the downward slide. Most people have heard of Gorbachev’s glasnost' and perestroïka, but there was a third initiative, acceleration (uskorenie): the doomed attempt to get the moribund Soviet economy to perform better. It sent it into shock instead.
An associated problem is that the fraction of resources going to bureaucracy/pollution/overhead usually starts out being reasonable (a quarter or a third or so) but the closer the economy comes to collapse, the higher this fraction becomes. We can observe this in the US: more and more resources have been allocated to bailouts, make-work “economic stimulus” projects and national security; more and more pollution (and associated costs) from offshore oil spills and from the development of marginal, dirty energy resources such as shale oil and tar sands. As the productive part of the economy begins to fail, the bureaucrats grow desperate but, being bureaucrats, all they can do is endlessly increase the bureaucratic burden, accelerating the downward slide. Most people have heard of Gorbachev’s glasnost' and perestroïka, but there was a third initiative, acceleration (uskorenie): the doomed attempt to get the moribund Soviet economy to perform better. It sent it into shock instead.
Things
get bigger and bigger, then suddenly stop. Let us look at the example
of US retail. Once upon a time there was local industry, which sold
products through small shops. Over the course of a few decades, the
industry moved to other countries, mostly to China, and the small
shops were put out of business by department stores, then by malls,
culminating with Walmart, which practices “slash and burn retail”:
since most of what it sells is imported, it empties the local economy
of money, and is then forced to close, leaving devastation in its
wake. Walmart is now expanding in China, having finally realized that
it doesn’t work to sell stuff in a country that doesn’t make
stuff once that country is fresh out of money. In places where retail
has ceased to exist, the remaining recourse is Internet shopping,
thanks to UPS and FedEx. And once UPS and FedEx services become
unaffordable because of rising energy prices or unavailable because
of unmaintained, impassable roads and bridges, local access to
imported goods is lost.
Similarly
with US banking. Once upon a time there were small neighborhood banks
that took in the people’s savings and then lent it out to
individuals and businesses, helping the local economy grow. Over the
course of a few decades, these small neighborhood banks were replaced
with a few huge megabanks, which, after 2008, became, in effect,
government-owned. Once the megabanks close their local branches,
local access to money is lost.
Similarly
with global shipping. Once upon a time there were many small ships,
called tramp steamers, which were loaded and unloaded by longshoremen
at local ports, using block and tackle and cargo nets. Then shipping
became containerized, and moving cargo required a container port.
Then the container ships became staggeringly huge. Then, as oil
prices went up, they had to resort to “slow steaming” by pulling
pistons out of their engines and going slower than the sailing ships
of yore. Instead of point-to-point trade, these giant container ships
can only operate within hub-and-spoke networks, with the spokes
provided by somewhat less energy-efficient trains and far less
energy-efficient long-distance trucking. These ships are now at the
limit of “slow steaming.” The next step is, obviously “no
steaming” at all.
Similarly
with medicine. Once upon a time there were family doctors—general
practitioners who made house calls, and neighborhood clinics.
Eventually these were replaced by megahospitals and giant medical
centers staffed with specialists, which, over time, became
unaffordable for the general population. The US is currently spending
over 17% of its GDP on medical care—an amount that is exorbitant
and unsustainable. Once this spending is curtailed, many of the
megahospitals will be forced to close. The population will, for a
time, still have access to WebMD and to mail-order drugs, and, in
case of serious illness or emergency, medical evacuation will remain
an option for those still be able to afford it.
The
state of the communications infrastructure in the US makes a
particularly interesting case. The US is now behind most developed
nations in access to the Internet. Many people in rural parts of the
US must rely on their cell phones for Internet access, putting the US
on par with such countries as Cambodia, Vietnam, Indonesia and the
Philippines. However, cell phone service is far more expensive in the
US than in any of these countries. Given that most products and
services are now available mainly through the Internet, and that the
Internet requires a steady supply of electricity, the state of the
electrical grid in the US presents an even more interesting case. It
is a severely overworked network of aging transmission lines and
transformer farms, some dating back to the 1950s.
There is over 100 nuclear power plants, which are growing old and dangerous, but their service lives are being artificially extended through re-licensing. There are no plans, and no money, to dismantle them and to sequester the high-level radioactive waste at a geologically stable underground location. If deprived of both grid power and diesel fuel for an extended period of time, these plants melt down à la Fukushima Daiichi. It bears mentioning that a nuclear disaster, such as Chernobyl, is a particularly potent ingredient in precipitating a political collapse. Since what is keeping a series of such disasters from happening is the electric grid, followed by diesel, let us examine each of these in turn.
There is over 100 nuclear power plants, which are growing old and dangerous, but their service lives are being artificially extended through re-licensing. There are no plans, and no money, to dismantle them and to sequester the high-level radioactive waste at a geologically stable underground location. If deprived of both grid power and diesel fuel for an extended period of time, these plants melt down à la Fukushima Daiichi. It bears mentioning that a nuclear disaster, such as Chernobyl, is a particularly potent ingredient in precipitating a political collapse. Since what is keeping a series of such disasters from happening is the electric grid, followed by diesel, let us examine each of these in turn.
With
regard to the electric grid, the incidence of major power outages has
recently been seen doubling every year. Yes, we are committing the
inductive fallacy by simply extrapolating this trend into the future,
but, given what is at stake, dare we not extrapolate? At the very
least, we would need to hear a very good reason why we shouldn’t.
The incidence of major power outages can only double so many times
before it’s time to start handing out potassium iodide tablets and
before wig prices shoot through the roof.
Unless,
of course, the diesel generators can be kept running continuously for
the 15-20 years it would take to shut down, de-fuel and decommission
all the nuclear reactors and empty the nuclear waste storage ponds.
Countries that lack a reliable electric grid tend to rely on diesel
generators. There is currently a lot of pressure on diesel supplies,
especially since Japan took all of their nuclear generation capacity
off-line following the Fukushima Daiichi disaster, with high diesel
prices and spot shortages in many countries. Observing the increased
incidence of power outages and price spikes, many companies in the US
have installed emergency diesel generators, and are now finding that
they run them even when grid power is available, whenever requested
to do so by the power company.
Not
much of anything continues to operate in the US once the electric
grid is down. Earlier this year a central part of Boston where I was
working at the time (Back Bay) went dark because of a transformer
fire. For almost an entire week every business in the area was shut
down. Without power, there is no heat or hot water, there is no
pumped water, or, more frighteningly, no pumped sewage, there is no
air conditioning (which is fatal, through heat stroke, in places such
as Atlanta, Georgia, which often have 100% humidity coupled with
above-body-temperature summer ambient temperatures). Security systems
and point of sale systems stop functioning. Cell phones and laptops
cannot be charged. Highway and subway tunnels flood and bridges do
not open to let shipping traffic through—such as barges loaded with
diesel. Can we be sure that diesel will continue to be supplied to
all active nuclear power plants even as everything else falls apart?
This
is usually the point in my talks when somebody in the audience pipes
up to say: “This is all doom and gloom, isn’t it?” To which I
say, “For you, maybe, if you don’t have any other plan except to
wait for everything to somehow magically fix itself.” You see,
building something that works takes a lot of time and effort. Things
stop working in a hurry, but making a replacement takes time,
resources, and, most importantly, stability. This can only be done
ahead of time, and doing so takes practice (by which I mean learning
from one’s own plentiful mistakes). If you wait until that last
moment when, in a spasm of horror, you suddenly think to yourself “Oh
shit, Dmitry was right!” then indeed Doom and Gloom will be your
charming new bunkmates. But if you start your collapse early and get
it over with quickly, then your chances of surviving this are quite
likely to substantially exceed zero.
And so, please don’t ask me “When?”—do your own thinking! I’ve given you the tools you need to come to your own conclusions, based on which you may be able to start your collapse early and get it over with quickly.
And so, please don’t ask me “When?”—do your own thinking! I’ve given you the tools you need to come to your own conclusions, based on which you may be able to start your collapse early and get it over with quickly.
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