What happens when tens of millions of Americans suddenly lose their food stamp benefits due to something like a prolonged government shutdown? And then, to broaden the lens, let's extend that nightmare to places like Australia, where social welfare collapse could play out in its own unique flavour of chaos. This isn't fear-mongering, it's a thought experiment grounded in history, economics, and human nature. We've seen shades of this before, from bread riots in revolutionary France to modern-day protests over austerity measures.
Let's start with the U.S., where the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP, aka food stamps) keeps about 42 million people, roughly 12% of the population, from going hungry. In the scenario painted in that Substack post (linkedbelow), a government shutdown drags into November 2025, and bingo: no more funds. States get a letter saying "insufficient funds," and EBT cards (those electronic benefit transfer cards that work like debit for groceries) go dry. We're talking about families, single parents, the elderly, and the working poor who rely on this to bridge the gap between meagre wages and skyrocketing food prices.
First off, the immediate reaction? Anger, sure, but multiplied by desperation. It doesn't take a sociologist to predict frustration boiling over. People who've been scraping by, think of that Minnesota mum rationing milk for her kids, suddenly face empty fridges. Hunger isn't abstract; it's a gnawing, primal force. Historical parallels abound: during the 2018-2019 U.S. shutdown (the longest on record at 35 days), SNAP was funded through contingency plans, but even then, food banks saw demand spike 20-30%. If it truly runs out this time, we're looking at a different beast.
Short-term: Chaos at the grassroots level. Food banks, already stretched thin (as that Philadelphia exec noted, with warehouses emptier than ever), would be overwhelmed. Demand could double or triple overnight, leading to lines snaking around blocks, rationing, and potential scuffles over the last canned goods. Charities like Feeding America might step up, but they're not equipped for a 42-million-person void. Small businesses suffer too, grocery stores in low-income areas rely on SNAP dollars for up to 20-30% of sales. If those dry up, expect closures, job losses, and a vicious cycle of economic contraction.
Mid-term: Social unrest ramps up. We've seen it in microcosms. In 2013, a technical glitch in EBT systems across 17 states caused temporary outages, leading to panic buying, abandoned carts full of groceries, and near-riots in some stores. Scale that to nationwide? Protests could erupt in cities like Detroit, Chicago, or Los Angeles, where poverty rates hover around 20-30%. Imagine crowds gathering outside welfare offices or state capitols, demanding action. If unmet, it escalates: looting supermarkets, clashes with police, maybe even targeted vandalism against symbols of inequality (think high-end stores or government buildings). Look at the 1992 L.A. riots, sparked by perceived injustice but fuelled by underlying economic despair, or more recently, the 2020 protests amid COVID hardships. Hunger adds rocket fuel.
Long-term: Systemic fallout. Even if the shutdown ends, trust erodes. People lose faith in government, leading to lower voter turnout or radical shifts in politics, perhaps more populist figures promising "fix-it-all" solutions. Health impacts snowball: malnutrition leads to higher hospital visits (ironically straining unfunded systems), kids miss school due to hunger-related issues, and mental health crises spike. Economically, it's a drag: SNAP has a multiplier effect, where every dollar spent generates about $1.50-1.80 in economic activity. Losing that? GDP dips, unemployment rises as related industries falter.
And don't forget the wildcard: the "Big, Beautiful Bill" mentioned, which allegedly slashes SNAP via work requirements. Even without a shutdown, hundreds of thousands in states like New York could lose benefits starting November 2025. That's not hypothetical; it's policy on steroids. Combined with inflation (food prices up 25% since 2020), it's a recipe for broader instability.
In essence, a SNAP collapse isn't just about empty bellies, it's a stress test for society's fabric. When the safety net frays, the fall is hard, and it pulls everyone down with it.
Now, let's hop across the Pacific to Australia, a country with a robust but not invincible social welfare system. Unlike the U.S.'s targeted SNAP, Australia's Centrelink handles a web of payments: JobSeeker for the unemployed, Age Pension for seniors, Disability Support Pension, and family benefits like Parenting Payment. About 5-6 million Aussies (out of 26 million total) rely on some form of welfare, with food insecurity already affecting 1 in 5 households pre-any-collapse.
Imagine a similar trigger: not a U.S.-style shutdown (Australia's parliamentary system makes full shutdowns rare), but a fiscal crisis, maybe a global recession, massive budget deficits from disasters (bushfires, floods), or political gridlock leading to austerity cuts. Suddenly, Centrelink payments halt or are slashed. No more fortnightly deposits for rent, bills, or groceries. What happens?
Short-term: Panic and adaptation. Aussies are resilient, think of the community spirit during COVID lockdowns, but hunger hits fast. Supermarkets like Coles and Woolworths could see runs on staples, with price gouging in rural areas where supply chains are thin. Food charities like Foodbank Australia, already serving 3 million people annually, would be swamped. In cities like Sydney or Melbourne, expect queues at soup kitchens turning chaotic. Remote Indigenous communities, where welfare dependence is higher and food costs 50% more, would suffer disproportionately, leading to health crises like increased diabetes from poor nutrition.
Mid-term: Unrest with an Aussie twist. Australia isn't riot-prone like some places, but precedents exist: the 2005 Cronulla riots stemmed from social tensions, and recent cost-of-living protests have turned rowdy. If welfare collapses, protests could start peacefully, unions marching in Brisbane or Adelaide, but escalate if ignored. Picture blockades of Parliament House in Canberra, or flash mobs disrupting CBDs. In a country with strict gun laws, violence might lean toward property damage or arson rather than shootings, but urban areas could see looting of food warehouses. Rural towns, hit hard by agricultural woes, might form vigilante groups to "protect" local supplies, echoing historical squatter rebellions.
Long-term: Societal shifts. Australia's economy is resource-heavy, so a welfare collapse could trigger migration from cities to regions (or vice versa), straining infrastructure. Inequality widens: the "haves" in affluent suburbs bunker down, while the "have-nots" in public housing estates fester with resentment. Politically, it could swing toward like a Leftist push for universal basic income. Health system overload: the public Medicare strains under malnutrition-related illnesses, and mental health services (already underfunded) buckle.
Globally, this isn't isolated. We've seen echoes in Greece's 2010s austerity (food queues, suicides up 35%), or Venezuela's hyperinflation leading to mass exodus. In Australia, with its island geography, emigration might not be easy, forcing internal reckonings. If welfare crumbles amid droughts, food production drops, amplifying shortages.
Whether in the U.S. or Australia, a welfare collapse, starting with food assistance, exposes how thin the line is between order and anarchy. Humans are adaptable, but strip away basics like food, and survival instincts kick in. The key takeaway? Prevention beats cure. Diversify economies, build resilient supply chains, and foster community networks. Politicians love brinkmanship, but as that Substack warns, playing chicken with people's stomachs is a loser's game:
https://michaeltsnyder.substack.com/p/we-want-our-entitlements-in-novemberl