Personal Lubricants: Shell Oil and Scenario Planning

Simcity buildings and images by Leigha Dennis

Suddenly, everything’s grim. In the face of the current global environmental and financial crisis, the future no longer promises boundless economic growth and technological innovation, but resembles a strangely familiar landscape fraught with potential danger and imminent collapse. If green shoots offer hope, only the most naïve proceed with the reckless abandon of previous years.

Global economic crises—like the Great Depression and the stagflation of the late 1960s and early 1970s—are tied to the internal contradictions of capitalism; overinvestment and overproduction produce an unsustainable bubble that eventually bursts. After a crash, overproduction typically inspires a shift in planning from the physical to the temporal. Realizing that it did not plan ahead properly, society concerns itself not with designing and producing things but rather with drawing up plans to safeguard that such crises do not recur in the future. Manfredo Tafuri observes that during the Great Depression, such a shift forced the avant-garde to understand that only economic planning, not physical planning, could cure the problems of modern life: “architecture as the ideology of the Plan is swept away by the reality of the Plan the moment the plan came down from utopia and became an operant mechanism.”1 Tafuri himself wrote in 1969, at the start of the second great crisis of the twentieth century, a new era of limits when modern architecture itself was called into question.

As architects turn, once again, to temporal planning, we need to come to an understanding of the deeper significance of such methodologies. In this essay, AUDC examines the history of one such approach, scenario planning.

Thinking the Unthinkable

By the postwar era, Royal Dutch/Shell Oil was a diverse body of allied companies with stakes in oil, natural gas, hydrocarbons, petrochemicals, agriculture, and plastics. Under the planned economy of high Fordism, a long sustained boom led to an explosion of automobile ownership and use that drove huge growth for Shell. As one of the “Seven Sisters,” Shell was one of the world’s largest petroleum companies, but it was also the smallest of these and chronically extracted more oil than it added to its reserves.
Shell realized it needed a strategy to direct its future growth. Since the end of World War II, both the price of oil and the growth in demand had been remarkably stable, and few oil executives had the foresight to imagine that things would ever change. By the late 1960s, Shell had developed a complex forecasting tool called the Unified Planning Machinery to predict growth in energy demand and upcoming oil prices. UPM-derived strategy used previous sales and cost projections to anticipate the price of crude and demand in detail for one year and more generally for six years.2 Using that information, the company could generate strategies for investment in infrastructure as well as for trade.

Although the UPM was effective when crude prices were stable and demand was steadily rising, it was not flexible enough to anticipate adverse events that could affect the company outside of its general business operations. By the early 1960s most senior Shell executives had experience only with a long economic boom, but threats were mounting. Not only was overproduction looming, but also overt European colonialism was coming to an end and, with it, the loss of Western control over oil reserves in the developing world. Realizing that even in this time of growth, the landscape was quickly changing, some employees of the Shell planning department—among them Ted Newland—sought more flexible methods of planning for uncertainty in the future, and turned to the scenario planning methods devised by Herman Kahn and the Hudson Institute.3

A decade before, at the RAND Corporation, Kahn began using systems theory and game theory to model the effects of massive nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union. Kahn did not just employ standard projections. Instead, he wrote multiple histories of near future events as if from a more distant future vantage point. Instead of accurate forecasts, however, Kahn sought to write compelling fictions demonstrating threats and opportunities together with the means by which his audience could anticipate them. These scenarios, Kahn believed, served as myths for the modern day.4 Literary qualities were so important to Kahn that later, at the Hudson Institute, he hired novelist William Gaddis to rewrite the institute’s reports.5 To describe such stories, Leo Rosten, another writer who freelanced at RAND, suggested the term “scenario,” a poetic but antiquated term that Hollywood employed to refer to screenplays during silent movie days. Kahn loved the term precisely for its evocation of poetry and myth-making.6

The two decades at the start of the Cold War were marked by a fervent interest in the future. Science fiction of this era was generally optimistic about our ability to solve problems with technology in the future. By the late 1950s, however, sharp advances in everyday technology, a proliferation of commercial goods, and futuristic military and space technologies closed the gap with science fiction. Modernization was complete. If this diluted modernism permeated everything, Utopian projections were no longer plausible. It was time to envision the future again, outside of Utopia, this time not as a radically different whole, but from the contemporary condition or even from an imagined past.

Still, the Cold War was a time of deep instability and individuals needed fantasy to comprehend the difficulties of the world. Carl Jung’s practice of analytical psychology became popular, especially in art and literature, offering a system of archetypes and the symbolic use of dreams, fairy tales and myths to comprehend the world. Also during this period, J. R. R. Tolkien completed The Lord of the Rings trilogy while C. S. Lewis wrote The Chronicles of Narnia. Together, both works established the modern genre of fantasy writing while making clear the importance and difficulty of epic struggles between good and evil. Similarly, Walt Disney left behind the familiar, comical animated adventures of Mickey Mouse, Goofy, and Donald Duck for the more romantic visions of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, fairy tales he appropriated from the Brothers Grimm.

The potential of nuclear war threatened to end the future itself, a possibility made vivid by Nevil Shute, an aeronautical engineer, in his 1957 novel On the Beach. Shute described the effects of fallout after a massive war on the last survivors as devastating and inevitable, yet did so without any great expression of emotion: characters generally took pleasure in small things and waited for the end. Kahn found On the Beach an “interesting, but badly researched book.”7 Still, the novel broke new ground by imagining what had previously been deemed to horrible to think.

Under President Dwight D. Eisenhower and Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, U.S. nuclear policy was based on the idea that the country’s capability for massive retaliation with nuclear weapons made both conventional and limited nuclear war unthinkable for the Soviet Union. Using game theory to prove his point, Kahn argued otherwise. First, he suggested that the policy of massive retaliation encouraged the Soviet Union to launch a first strike to disable the U. S.’s ability to strike. Second, he argued that when pressed, neither the country would engage in all-out war and, even if they did, life—and with it, warfare—would continue afterwards, however damaged. As forecasting life past a nuclear holocaust was considered unthinkable at the time, Kahn called his projections “thinking the unthinkable.” He concluded that the U. S. should avoid threatening nuclear war, ensure a second-strike capability to adequately deter further aggression, and draft plans for continuing war after a nuclear exchange. Kahn’s 1961 book On Thermonuclear War galvanized both the policy makers and the public.

Kahn’s projections compelled John F. Kennedy’s Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara to shift U. S. military strategy to the doctrine of Mutual Assured Destruction, which relied on a second-strike capability. In part, Kahn’s success was due not only to his argument but also to his intense but comic presentation style. Kahn would frequently joke about nuclear war to get the audience’s attention and to keep them listening.8 Many, however, were disturbed by the very topic, and outraged by Kahn’s propensity to joke about nuclear war. A rival military strategist at RAND, Bernard Brodie, advocated massive retaliation, believing it necessary to keep nuclear war unthinkable. For him, Kahn’s project was grotesque, an improper coupling: “Something [was] illegitimately in something else … Things that should be kept apart [were] fused together.” In contrast, the founder of communitarianism Amitai Etzioni applauded him: “Kahn does for nuclear arms what free-love advocates did for sex: he speaks candidly of acts which others whisper behind close doors.”9 As Etzioni observed, horror and disgust at thinking the unthinkable galvanized opposition to nuclear war. Stanley Kubrick would echo Kahn’s tactics in his 1964 black comedy Dr. Strangelove, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb even as he immortalized Kahn as (at least a partial inspiration for) the character of film’s Dr. Strangelove.10

The Limits to Growth

Amidst growing tensions with RAND, Kahn left and founded the Hudson Institute. There, he investigated non-military futures and honed a doctrine of futurology that posited unending growth for capitalism and technology.11 The first decade of work at the Hudson Institute culminated in the 1967 book The Year 2000: A Framework for Speculation on the Next Thirty-Three Years, set out to identify the challenges faced by the United States from a changing geopolitical context and from the transitions to a postindustrial society. Soon, The Year 2000 began to circulate at Shell and with it the idea that the world’s demand for oil would rise exponentially by the end of the century. Beginning in the late 1960s, Shell's London-based planning group, led by Ted Newland and Pierre Wack, began generating scenarios to understand risks—both political and general. Newland and Kahn soon became friends. Newland understood that if Kahn was correct in his projections, demand for oil would rise exponentially. After successfully convincing Shell’s Committee of Managing Directors that the UPM could not adequately cope with such changes, Newland assembled a team to generate scenarios.12

In 1971, Newland was joined in Shell’s Planning Department by Pierre Wack. Trained as a public administrator, Wack was a disciple of the mystic G. I. Gurdjieff during World War II. Gurdjieff believed that people lived their lives in a state close to somnambulism and sought to teach his disciples how to wake up in order to see the world. One way of doing this, Gurdjieff suggested, was to seek out “remarkable people.”13 Similarly, Wack believed that turning to conventional sources was a mistake as they were already well known to the stakeholders involved. Instead, like Gurdjieff, he believed that to uncover unexpected information, it was necessary to seek out remarkable people. He found one of these in Kahn, whose writings he had also become acquainted with and visited him at his Hudson Institute.14
To understand the fate of oil in the year 2000, Newland assembled a team in Shell’s Group Planning division to map the risks by developing six initial scenarios. Unlike Kahn, the scenario planners at Shell sought not the big picture but rather a focused vision of the future for oil. Even more than Kahn’s faith in the powers of scenarios as fictional devices, Wack and Newland believed in the mythological role of scenarios that had the compelling and memorable qualities of fairy tales. Shell planner Arie de Geus would write “In the telling …, the story line becomes stronger. Scenarios act as a signal-to-noise filter. The driving forces sharpen. The events depicted enter the mind with less background noise and thus with a stronger profile and clearer outlines.”15

One scenario focused on the changing ownership of energy supplies. Prior to the foundation of the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) in the 1960s, oil reserves were divided among three regions, the U.S. (which had import restrictions), the self-sufficient Communist world, and everywhere else, known simply as the “international oil industry” or “the World Outside the Communist Area and North America” (WOCANA).16 Within the WOCANA nations, national interests owned only 8% of their crude oil, with the rest owned by the seven sisters as well as a few aspiring independents. It quickly became clear to Wack and Newland that the oil industry could lose its control over oil prices in many of the WOCANA nations.

Shell’s directors agreed that a crisis in oil production would come but were unwilling to break with the path followed by the oil companies and stuck steadfastly to UPM projections. Wack was disturbed by this and realized that their scenarios were too prosaic. Scenarios had to, he concluded, make it possible to “change our managers’ view of reality.”17 In other words, scenario planning was important less as an analytical tool and more as a rhetorical device. Scenario planning, Peter Schwartz writes, merely allows people to see what they are blind to.18 A successful scenario, he explains, “resonates in some ways with what they already know, and then leads them from that resonance to reperceive the world.”19
De Geus himself explains that scenario planning served as a form of transitional object, a term that he borrowed from psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott.20 For Winnicott, the transitional object designated “the intermediate area of experience, between the thumb and the teddy bear, between the oral erotism and the true object-relationship, between primary creative activity and projection of what has already been introjected…” Not necessarily a thing at all, the transitional object is more often an action, a sound, or some other phenomena. As an intermediate condition, it provides a means by which the child moves from an oceanic phase to a grasp of the world and consciousness.21 But instead of a fetish, over time, such objects would be decathected, relegated to limbo after losing their meaning. Winnicott suggested that such objects “diffused…spread out over the … whole cultural field.”22 Here Winnicott could suggest a return: “It is assumed here that the task of reality-acceptance is never completed, that no human being is free from the strain of relating inner and outer reality, and that relief from this strain is provided by an intermediate area of experience … which is not challenged (arts, religion, etc.). This intermediate area is in direct continuity with the play area of the small child who is ‘lost’ in play.”23 Thus, for de Geus scenario planning served not so much to anticipate the future as to stimulate thought about it.

Even after processing the scenarios, Shell did not anticipate an energy crisis from the seller’s market before 1980 because of long-term contracts the major oil producers had signed with OPEC.24 Still, based on the results of the Year 2000 study, Shell diversified, expanding into coal and nuclear power generation and metal production. Shell made many aspects of its scenarios public, thus launching an international discussion on the looming “oil crisis.” In America, there was reason for concern. The country’s rapid economic growth during the preceding decades meant that internal oil production had not kept pace with demand, peaking in 1970. Although there was still oil within the country’s borders, bringing it to the surface was not as cost effective as importing it. In order to ensure that the growing demand would continue to be met, the U.S. government slowly reduced its restrictions on imported oil until it finally abolished them in 1973, deepening American reliance on foreign oil.25 In the ten years following 1968, oil imports to the United States increased 193% while domestic oil production dropped 3%.
Both Shell and the industry were aware of this possibility decades beforehand. In 1956, Marion King Hubbert, a geophysicist working in Shell’s Houston office, predicted that the U.S. would reach peak oil production between 1965 and 1970 while the world would do so around the year 2000.26 Hubbert’s predictions were deeply unpopular, so much so that after Shell’s head office learned that he would be presenting his research at the American Petroleum Institute, representatives personally called to ask him to withdraw his presentation.27 Since it would have required a massive shift away from existing investments, Hubbert’s work was simply too dramatic for oil companies to take seriously.
Although Hubbert was ignored by Shell and the industry, the idea of a resource-limited future steadily became more acceptable. A group of public officials, economists, and scientists met in Rome in 1968 to examine the future broadly. They published their results in 1972 as The Limits to Growth. Like Hubbert, the authors of the study concluded that global resource extraction—not only of oil, but also of many crucial metals—would peak around the year 2000. The Limits to Growth questioned the viability of the current rate of consumption of the planet’s resources.28 For Shell, The Limits to Growth meant that the environmental question was no longer a set of localized issues and reactions, but rather a global problem that affected the company’s public image.29

By making public Newland and Wack’s Year 2000 study, Shell appeared to be in the forefront of such thinking, but they still underestimated how quickly change would happen. The Arab-Israeli crisis of 1973 triggered the crisis anticipated crisis over non-Western controlled oil. The result was an increase in the price of a barrel of oil from $2.90 in September to $5.10 in December to $11.65 on January 1, 1974.30 The new geopolitical landscape prompted the U.S. government to seek new means of conservation and alternative energy sources to prevent American dependency on foreign oil. The potential drop in demand, it became clear, could be as dangerous to an oil company’s bottom line as any threat from overseas.
Shell’s scenarios did not predict the events of the OPEC Energy Crisis or how soon crisis would take place, but, since the scenarios had been made public, they suggested a potential shift of power in oil resources prior to the crisis unfolding and so the company appeared to have anticipated it.31 Even through no specific management decisions could be directly attributed to Shell’s use of scenarios, scenario planning was a convenient means of fostering an image of Shell as having anticipated the future.32

Impressed by relevance of the Year 2000 scenarios, Shell continued to employ the scenario plan strategy and by 1977, the planning group was running a number of scenarios including one focusing on Iran, where much of the seven sisters’ remaining oil supply was located. Within the scenarios, they anticipated that growing fundamentalist sentiments could bring a shift in power, upsetting the region and possibly turning it against the West, thus causing a steep rise in oil prices.33 Again, sooner than Shell expected, events unfolded causing a second oil crisis. The 1979 Iranian revolution and the subsequent Iran/Iraq war caused barrel prices to double.34 Shell had already been looking to diversify its holdings further and pursue new sources of oil, particularly to offshore deposits that had been identified in the 1960s. Until this second price spike many of these options were too expensive to develop. The new oil prices made offshore drilling profitable and soon Shell focused much of its attention to the offshore industry and construction of new types of rigs and platforms.35

This was widely perceived as Shell’s second success with scenarios. Shell had risen from the least profitable to the most profitable of the seven sisters. The planning department was widely integrated into the corporate and management structure. Any major new projects taken on at Shell had to be run successfully against all of the ongoing scenarios, thereby attempting to guarantee that new plans would have as much success as possible, regardless of the way events unfold. 36

The third oil crisis occurred as a combination of massive investments in supply infrastructure in the 1970s and cutbacks in demand due to energy conservation. In 1986, prices collapsed and stayed low for some twenty years.37 Still, Shell’s 1985 “Oil Price Collapse” scenario anticipated the drop, allowing the company to immediately put its most expensive exploratory projects on hold while developing new technologies like three-dimensional seismic technology and horizontal drilling to more efficiently produce oil from mature fields and existing wells. Through the scenarios, Shell also anticipated the opening and deregulation of global markets.38

At the same time, the scenario team began to feel pressure to prove its own strategic value. The link to corporate success and the planning department’s work was not quantifiable. Many managers could not fully understand the group’s value. While they respected the accuracy of many of the scenarios, they were also troubled by the expense that the planning department incurred. By design, most of the scenarios developed by the group would never unfold in real life and it was impossible to tell whether the planning department’s ideas were actually having any effect on the decision making process of management.39 While Shell’s executives acknowledged the accuracy of many of the Shell scenarios, they nevertheless saw the program as expensive and wasteful. For every valuable fiction scripted, there were many scenarios that would never come to pass—indeed one of the reasons that Hubbert’s peak oil had been discounted was that such predictions had been made for decades beforehand—producing unrecouped expenses. Only a few years before, acting on the advice of scenario team, Shell entered into the nuclear and coal industries. Neither venture proved successful, both were controversial and eventually Shell abandoned them.40

Top management felt that there was little clear evidence that any of the scenarios actually spurred on critical change within the company.41 In 1986 de Geus began to re-examine and audit the planning department’s strategies. As a result, the planning team turned toward the idea of Shell as a learning company, setting up a computer conferencing system among scenario planners while enlisting Stewart Brand, the founder of the Whole Earth Catalog, to organize a series of “learning conferences” that drew heavily from countercultural influences, cybernetics, systems theory, and computer technology.
During the 1990s, culture turned toward hopefulness about the impact of impending technological advances on the proximate future. The crisis model upon which many of the earlier scenarios depended had eased and the focus changed to seizing opportunity in emerging global markets and new technologies. So, too, as the Internet made vast quantities of information easily available, it became difficult for investors to believe that anyone could produce genuinely new knowledge. Scenario planners turned inward, codifying their methodology; Peter Schwartz, Kees van der Heijden, and Arie de Geus all released books on the methodology of scenario planning, arguing for its deployment in both professional decisions and everyday life. At this point, scenario planning was sold not as something done by a select group of remarkable people, but rather as a technique that everyone could employ for personal growth and advancement, a strategy for an uncertain, but rapidly expanding marketplace.

There is No Alternative

Throughout the 1990s, Shell’s scenarios focused on the concept “There Is No Alternative” (TINA). An echo of Francis Fukuyama’s “The End of History and the Last Man,” TINA projected the increasing liberalization and globalization of markets together with a greater decline in the power of national interests and more reliance and dependence on new technology.42 As neoliberal government policies spurred on deregulation, new financial instruments began to serve the role of scenarios, helping companies and investors guard against unforeseen conditions. Through tradable futures, options, derivatives, credit default swaps and hedge funds, the future itself could be marketed and commodified.43

Since 2001, a steady stream of crisis have come to pass that have radically shaken public faith in the market economy and Shell’s own confidence in the TINA concept. First, the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, growing tensions in the Mideast and the Iraq War threatened the illusion of relative peace, reliability of foreign oil supply, and free reign for globalization. Second, Shell faced scandal in 2004. Since investment depends on future returns, truthful disclosure of a company’s assets is a prerequisite. Shell, however, overstated its reserves by 20%, prompting widespread outrage among investors.44 The reality of the future undid its fiction. Combined, these threats prompted a re-evaluation of TINA known as “There Are No Ideal Answers” (TANIA) to confront the need to transition to a sustainable source of energy.45

The Utility of Play
Scenario planning does not focus on the future but rather on the present. Peak oil, global warming, and the fragility of speculative bubbles are imminent threats. But the massive capital already invested by companies like Shell in existing infrastructure makes it impossible for them to abandon standard industry practices, even if they know that the consequences of business as usual will be dire once things hit a tipping point.

Like fairy tales, scenarios present carefully crafted stories that indirectly illustrate the dangers of the world to an audience that isn’t ready for them. They allow us to prepare for the future even if we feel powerless against the forces of the world around us by providing a context where we can speak about the unspeakable. The lessons of fairy tales are gentle and distant, they may only make sense later when the codified dangers from the stories appear in reality. This helps preserve a child-like naïveté and enables the continued drive toward pleasure in the face of fear and doubt. As Bruno Bettelheim wrote: “The figures and events of fairy tales also personify and illustrate inner conflicts, but they suggest ever so subtly how these conflicts may be solved, and what the next steps in the development toward a higher humanity might be. The fairy tale is presented in a simple, homely way; no demands are made on the listener. This prevents even the smallest child from feeling compelled to act in specific ways, and he is never made to feel inferior. Far from making demands, the fairy tale reassures, gives hope for the future, and holds out the promise of a happy ending.”46 By providing a forum where fear and anxiety can both be discussed, fairy tales provide listeners with a sense of importance, even if they do not yet have agency.47

In Beyond the Pleasure Principle, Sigmund Freud hypothesized that since organisms come into being from a plenum of inanimate matter, they carry with them the death drive or “pleasure principle,” a desire to return to this undifferentiated state. If, however, the organism responds with an “influx of fresh amounts of stimulus” through a traumatic event, it can awake again and go on living or, if the stimulus is strong enough, reproduce.48 In this light, scenario planning functions more as a rhetorical device and therapy than as a method of planning or accurate forecast. The shock of the actual event is necessary to allow change to occur. But scenario planning allows participants to continue playing even though they know better. Like psychoanalysis, there is no end or goal to the process of gaming, its value is the sensation that comes from playing the game.

1 Manfredo Tafuri, “Toward a Critique of Architectural Ideology,” in K. Michael Hays, ed., Architecture Theory Since 1968 (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1997), 4-35.
2 Pierre Wack, “Scenarios: Uncharted Waters Ahead,” Harvard Business Review September/October 1985, 74.
3 Art Kleiner, The Age of Heretics: A History of the Radical Thinkers Who Reinvented Corporate Management (New York: Doubleday, 1996), 141-142.
4 Sharon Ghamari-Tabrizi, The World of Herman Kahn: The Intuitive Science of Thermonuclear War (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), 132.
5 Arthur Herzog, “Report on a ‘Think Factory’“ the New York Times, November 10, 1963, 35.
6 Kleiner, 149-150.
7 Herman Kahn, On Thermonuclear War (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961), 9
8 Alex Abella, Soldiers of Reason. The Rand Corporation and the Rise of the American Empire (New York: Harcourt, 2008), 99.
9 Ghamari-Tabrizi, 236-8.
10 Ghamari-Tabrizi, 275.
11 Abella, 103.
12 Kleiner, 152-3.
13 Kleiner 155-157.
14 Kleiner, The Age of Heretics,158. Art Kleiner, “Consequential Heresies: How ‘Thinking the Unthinkable’ Changed Royal Dutch/Shell,” unpublished work (Emeryville, CA: Global Business Network, 1990),, 8.
15 Arie de Geus, The Living Company: Habits for Survival in a Turbulent Business Environment (Cambridge, M: Harvard Business School Press, 1997), 49-50.
16 Keetie Sluyterman, Keeping Competitive in Turbulent Markets, 1973-2007; A History of Royal Dutch Shell (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2007), vol. 3, 14
17 Peter Schwartz, The Art of the Long View. Paths to Strategic Insight for Yourself and Your Company (New York: Random House, 1988), 8.
18 Schwartz, 35.
19 Schwartz, 64.
20 de Geus, 64.
21 D. W. Winnicott, Playing and Reality (London: Tavistock Publications, 1971), 2. In World War 2, the Tavistock clinic, for which Winnicott worked was responsible for developing new methods of training officers and dealing the stress of combat.
22 Winnicott, 5.
23 Winnicott, 13.
24 Sluyterman, 16-17.
25 Sluyterman, 18.
26 Marion King Hubbert, “Nuclear Energy and the Fossil Fuels,” American Petroleum Institute Drilling and Production Practice, Spring Meeting, San Antonio, 1956, Shell Development Company Publication 95, June 1956, available online at
27 Kenneth S. Deffeyes, Hubbert’s Peak. The Impending World Oil Shortage (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001), 2.
28 Donella H. Meadows, et. al. The Limits To Growth: A Report for the Club of Rome (New York: Universe, 1972), Sluyterman, 19. 
29 Stephen Howarth & Joost Jonker, Powering the Hydrocarbon Revolution, 1939-1973; A History of Royal Dutch Shell, vol. 2, 439.
30 Howarth, 307. Sluyterman, 21.
31 Peter Schwartz, 7. Kleiner, “Consequential Heresies,” 6
32 Sluyterman, 17; 222-223, de Geus, 53, Kleiner, “Consequential Heresies,” 7-8.
33 Schwartz, 139-40.
34 Kleiner, “Consequential Heresies,” 7.
35 Sluyterman, 38-53.
36 van der Heijden, 7-8.
37 Howarth, 395.
38 Sluyterman, 159-169.
39 de Geus, 53.
40 Sluyterman, 102-109, 119, 222.
41 de Geus, 53-54.
42 Royal Dutch Shell, Shell Global Scenarios to 2025, The Future Business Environment: Trends, Trade-offs and Choices,, 8-9.
43 It was at this time that the Enron Corporation created what promised to be a transparent, Internet-based trading market for the energy and commodities industries. Enron’s effort appeared a runaway success until it turned out to have used fictitious accounting methods to greatly exaggerate its income. Still, Shell continued to draw from the lessons of Enron’s apparent success and hired former Enron trading executive Debbie Wernet to create a comparable program as president of Coral Energy, an affiliate of Houston’s Shell Trading in 1996.
44 BBC News, “Can We Still be Sure of Shell?”
45 Royal Dutch Shell, Shell Energy Scenarios to 2050, 6-7.
46 Bruno Bettelheim, The Uses of Enchantment, (New York: Knopf, 1976), 26.
47 Bettelheim, 64.
48 Sigmund Freud, trans. James Strachey, Beyond the Pleasure Principle, (New York: Liveright Pub. Corp., 1961), 52.