Editor’s note: To bring more attention and scrutiny to sustainability-themed storytelling efforts, 17 Communications’ Dmitriy Ioselevich and ImpactAlpha have launched a kind of Rotten Tomatoes for the impact investing crowd. To help separate the gems from the groaners, Dmitriy rates films and TV shows on a scale of 0-15, with a maximum of five points in each of three categories:
- Accuracy – Are the depictions of sustainability generally accurate? Is it a fair illustration of how people in sustainability think and interact.
- Entertainment – Is the film or show genuinely entertaining? Are people going to enjoy watching it? Are they going to tell their friends to watch it?
- Impact – How will this film or TV show inspire people to change their behavior? Will there be a long-lasting impact after they’ve finished watching?
Silo (2023)
Score: 9 (Accuracy – 2; Entertainment – 4; Impact – 3)
Spoiler level: Low
Stream seasons 1-2 on Apple TV+ (trailer)
The basic premise for Silo is that 10,000 people are forced to live together in an underground bunker because the air outside is too toxic to breathe. The catch is that nobody in this 144-level upside-down skyscraper seems to know what made the air toxic in the first place or when it might be safe to go back out. It’s been more than 350 years.
In the first episode we’re introduced to Sheriff Holston Becker (played by David Oyelowo). He offers the official creed for the underground community: “We do not know why we are here. We do not know who built the Silo. We do not know why everything outside the Silo is as it is. We do not know when it will be safe to go outside. We only know that day is not today.”
The only “proof” offered to residents to justify their sequestration is a digital display of a desolate hellscape, courtesy of a lone camera positioned near the entrance to the silo. Whether the display is real is a matter of great debate for many of the show’s characters and a driving force for the narrative.
- “What if what we see is not what’s out there?”
- “What if everything you know to be true… was just one big lie?”
- “Don’t you ever think about the world beyond the silo?”
- “What about finding out the truth?!”
These types of truth-seeking proclamations are a mainstay of dystopian sci-fi where nothing is quite what it seems. I could see Silo as almost a sequel to another bunker-themed TV show, Paradise, although the quality of life in Paradise seems significantly higher – for the time being at least (see, “Paradise (2025): More ****еd than anyone realizes”).
The main difference is that the silo residents don’t know what caused the devastation to the outside world, while the Paradise City residents do (or at least think they do). There are hints made throughout seasons 1 and 2 of Silo about what really happened, but the answers won’t be revealed until later seasons. (Or you could just read the book series by Hugh Howey that Silo is based on.)
Caste system
The mystery of the unknown is what keeps viewers glued to their seats. But whether the disaster in the outside world is natural or man-made – or a combination of the two – there’s much to learn from Silo about how humanity chooses to respond to existential threats.
Constructing a giant self-contained and self-sufficient bunker is itself a remarkable feat of engineering. The closest parallel is probably SubTropolis, a 55-million-square-foot underground business complex in Missouri that includes, among other things, 10.5 miles of paved roads and stable, year-round temperatures. There’s also the Large Hadron Collider, which is buried 175 meters underground and contains some of the most complex scientific instruments ever made.
But regardless of the technological feasibility of the structure in Silo, what stood out to me most from an impact perspective is the strategic use of a caste system as a mechanism of control and order. Instead of rich and poor, characters in Silo refer to those “up top” (i.e., closer to the surface) and those “down below” (i.e., deeper underground). Everyone aspires to move to the up top, just as everyone fears being demoted to the down below. Tight-knit communities develop based on where in the silo someone resides. In theory, everyone has equal rights – equal access to healthcare, education, food, etc. – but in practice there are always asymmetries barely hiding underneath the surface (no pun intended).
This sort of construct is virtually impossible to argue against in a post-apocalyptic society. Instead of a small circle of elites with all the information, everyone is (supposedly) left in the same shroud of mystery. There’s no option to leave – only to endure.
To the credit of the silo residents, they do make the best of a difficult situation. The underground society offers an excellent example of what a circular economy could look like under constrained conditions. There are indoor farms for food production. Schools for learning. A judicial department to settle disputes. An engineering team to keep everything running. Porters to run errands and make deliveries. A recycling system where almost nothing goes to waste. Even a hospital led by Dr. Pete Nichols (played by Iain Glen, better known as Ser Jorah Mormont from Game of Thrones).
Those in power know that survival requires a tenuous balance that must be carefully maintained (i.e., controlled). For Bernard Holland (played by Tim Robbins), the head of IT, the justification for the pseudo-authoritarian system is simple: “Throughout our entire existence, problems have arisen that must be taken care of. The needs of the many require the sacrifices of the few.”
To those in power, the alternative is far more terrifying. To quote Mr. Holland again: “There is a truth that has applied to human civilization from the before times until now. Only nine missed meals separate a functioning society from chaos.”
