06/19/2025
Safety.
The bunker is a place for safety. In the military, they protect us from falling bombs, artillery, and a variety of other attacks. You can run inside one, make sure the door is closed and ride out whatever storms happen around you.
In the civilian world, bunkers are associated with more with survivalism and they offer a sense of control. The world can be uncontrollable, but there is control inside a bunker - it is a space you create so that you can control who has access to you, who has access to what you have. You can build it out of reinforced concrete, steel, lead lining…you can protect yourself from a mumber of threats. You do this for safety, you do this to make sure you’ll be safe. You can absolutely control your sense of safety.
But absolute control comes with a price - isolation. There is a concern that too much time inside a bunker will lead to reduced air supply, and you could die. Too much time inside a bunker is known to cause psychological declines involving depression, anxiety, and personality disturbances. The world is unsafe - build a bunker and exist away from the world. Stay safe - but stay alone. But life all alone inside a bunker isn’t a life that is being lived - it is a life existing within a state of purgatory that we create and stay suspended in while the world goes on outside.
“The Bunker Fallacy” tells us that a focus on bunkers will distract us from more comprehensive solutions for resilience and sustainability, and encourages people to instead integrate survival measures into daily life. This approach forces us to accept risk and vulnerability while also accepting community and mutual support. People are wild cards - they can be unreliable, they can let you down, they are unpredictable. But people can also build you up, they can provide skills and support that you can’t give yourself, and people make up teams - teams get the really big jobs done together. You can’t do it all alone.
I’ve spent some time in bunkers over the past week, everyone in the Middle East has lately. In the immediate moment, it’s about safety - I do have to concern myself with missile strikes now, and the bunker can keep me alive. I duck inside a physical bunker when I need to, but I come right out again when the physical threat is over. I don’t get comfortable in a bunker, I don’t want to be there - it is an immediate means to an end with a desire to exit as soon as I can. It’s a short-term necessity - not a long-term lifestyle.
I’ve been thinking about the psychological bunkers we create and live in inside our minds. A repeated sense of being wounded and threatened can lead a person to close themselves off to others out of a need for self-protection. And that can work for a while; if you close yourself off to others, you do reduce the risk that people will hurt you. But does your self-protection end up hurting you? The mental bunkers we create, do they become prisons? When we close ourselves off to people, we protect ourselves from dishonesty, betrayal and disappointment - but we also close ourselves off to love, friendship and companionship. Our safety will soon give way to loneliness.
What if we instead choose to believe we’ll be okay? What if we evaluate risk and make our choices with the idea that there needs to be acceptable risk? “I can open myself to the possibility of love knowing there is a risk of disappointment but I know I’ll be okay even if my feelings get hurt.” You can say the same about a new job, changing majors in college, reuniting with former friends, etc. We can take chances on good outcomes with the understanding that we are resilient enough to bounce back if we don’t get the good outcomes that we want.
Duck inside your bunker in the immediate crisis and stay safe. If you’ve gotten hurt, repair yourself inside the bunker just enough so that you can fully heal outside the bunker. When the crisis is over, come out. You’ve got to come out of the bunker and come together with the people around you and move forward together. If you’re healing from hurt, do what you must do alone, but let someone in to help you and rebuild your trust in others again. The isolation, the aloneness, the missed experiences and connections - it’s no way to live.
(Picture is the actual bunker I go to when the sirens go off. It’s just for emergencies - no other reason.)