Andy Burnham has encouraged UK households to stock up on three days’ worth of bottled water, tinned food, and emergency supplies, emphasising the importance of preparedness in case of a national crisis. This advice follows a series of serious weather events that have swept Britain, with Storm Austen placing over 10,000 homes temporarily without power. The prime minister remarks how “unexpected events seem to be becoming more and more common,” necessitating an increase in national resilience.
The situation recalls the early stages of the pandemic, where obsessive hoarding of basic grocery items became a knee-jerk reaction to hypothetical fears of supply shortages. Lest we forget the scarcity of March 2020, when finding a packet of loo roll in Tesco’s felt like uncovering a rare Amazonian emerald. But Burnham’s advice stems from a more extreme concern than toilet paper paucity — last month, the National Audit Office warned of how cyber-attacks and the climate crisis have the potential to disrupt the nation’s food supply chain.
While the government’s advice is practical, the messaging could be improved. Burham’s language feels uncomfortably vague, as elusive references to emergencies or “unexpected events” can lead to speculation about whether the government knows something we don’t. This exploits people’s anxieties, prompting the same kind of panic buying that left supermarket shelves barren during Covid. Some suppliers are already noticing indications of this, with Iceland reporting a 40% increase in sales of tinned foods in the weekend following the announcement, and retailer Robert Dyas noticing a 160% increase in the sale of radios.
It would be easy to dismiss the advice as alarmist. A seemingly abrupt warning from the government to stock up on essential supplies does seem moderately apocalyptic, or perhaps an irresponsible encouragement of preppers, one that could lead eccentrics to start constructing doomsday bunkers in the garden. But the advice is not extreme enough to be considered full scaremongering, nor is it predicated on baseless concerns — cyber attacks are becoming more frequent, and storms like Austen have challenged people’s access to necessities.
The warning is relatively practical; ultimately, there’s no real downside to having some canned beans and paracetamol packets stashed away in the cupboard. Critically, stockpiling is a way for people to give themselves an illusion of control during unprecedented times. This is crucial in a society that in recent years has become increasingly riddled with anxiety and other mental health disorders.
Brits have become more prone to panic, and ominous changes in the world around us make this panic harder to shake off. As fears of ecological collapse and the domination of AI begin to loom large, it’s easy to become despairing about the future. Preparedness allows for a paranoid culture to feel temporarily capable of navigating such an uncertain political climate. It gives us a sense that we’re protected against all the dragons and demons that lurk in news headlines.
Realistically, stockpiling is one tiny rung on the ladder of national resilience. And while we can’t control what crises might befall us, we can control the small ways that we ease our worries about the future. These remain cautionary steps, as the notion of a dramatically disruptive national crisis still feels unlikely. But, if Britain does become ravaged by a bloody Armageddon, at least Burnham knows he has his measly stash of Twiglets waiting for him; such knowledge is comforting, if nothing else.
Image “Tinned good stripped from the shelves during the 2020 Coronavirus pandemic, Morrisons, Wetherby (15th March 2020).jpg” by Mtaylor848 is licensed under CC-BY SA 4.0
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Burnham’s stockpiling message and our desire for control in an uncontrollable world
Andy Burnham has encouraged UK households to stock up on three days’ worth of bottled water, tinned food, and emergency supplies, emphasising the importance of preparedness in case of a national crisis. This advice follows a series of serious weather events that have swept Britain, with Storm Austen placing over 10,000 homes temporarily without power. The prime minister remarks how “unexpected events seem to be becoming more and more common,” necessitating an increase in national resilience.
The situation recalls the early stages of the pandemic, where obsessive hoarding of basic grocery items became a knee-jerk reaction to hypothetical fears of supply shortages. Lest we forget the scarcity of March 2020, when finding a packet of loo roll in Tesco’s felt like uncovering a rare Amazonian emerald. But Burnham’s advice stems from a more extreme concern than toilet paper paucity — last month, the National Audit Office warned of how cyber-attacks and the climate crisis have the potential to disrupt the nation’s food supply chain.
While the government’s advice is practical, the messaging could be improved. Burham’s language feels uncomfortably vague, as elusive references to emergencies or “unexpected events” can lead to speculation about whether the government knows something we don’t. This exploits people’s anxieties, prompting the same kind of panic buying that left supermarket shelves barren during Covid. Some suppliers are already noticing indications of this, with Iceland reporting a 40% increase in sales of tinned foods in the weekend following the announcement, and retailer Robert Dyas noticing a 160% increase in the sale of radios.
It would be easy to dismiss the advice as alarmist. A seemingly abrupt warning from the government to stock up on essential supplies does seem moderately apocalyptic, or perhaps an irresponsible encouragement of preppers, one that could lead eccentrics to start constructing doomsday bunkers in the garden. But the advice is not extreme enough to be considered full scaremongering, nor is it predicated on baseless concerns — cyber attacks are becoming more frequent, and storms like Austen have challenged people’s access to necessities.
The warning is relatively practical; ultimately, there’s no real downside to having some canned beans and paracetamol packets stashed away in the cupboard. Critically, stockpiling is a way for people to give themselves an illusion of control during unprecedented times. This is crucial in a society that in recent years has become increasingly riddled with anxiety and other mental health disorders.
Brits have become more prone to panic, and ominous changes in the world around us make this panic harder to shake off. As fears of ecological collapse and the domination of AI begin to loom large, it’s easy to become despairing about the future. Preparedness allows for a paranoid culture to feel temporarily capable of navigating such an uncertain political climate. It gives us a sense that we’re protected against all the dragons and demons that lurk in news headlines.
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Realistically, stockpiling is one tiny rung on the ladder of national resilience. And while we can’t control what crises might befall us, we can control the small ways that we ease our worries about the future. These remain cautionary steps, as the notion of a dramatically disruptive national crisis still feels unlikely. But, if Britain does become ravaged by a bloody Armageddon, at least Burnham knows he has his measly stash of Twiglets waiting for him; such knowledge is comforting, if nothing else.
Image “Tinned good stripped from the shelves during the 2020 Coronavirus pandemic, Morrisons, Wetherby (15th March 2020).jpg” by Mtaylor848 is licensed under CC-BY SA 4.0
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