The results of this ambitious exercise were first presented to the Club of Rome in private and then published, in 1972, in a book, The Limits to Growth. The conclusions Meadows and his team reached were very different from Keynes’s utopian dream. They were also not what the Club of Rome, nor anyone else for that matter, wanted to hear.

Aggregating the outcomes of the various scenarios they fed into their mainframes showed unequivocally that if there were no significant changes to historical economic and population growth trends—if business continued as usual—then the world would witness a “sudden and uncontrollable decline in both population and industrial capacity” within a century. In other words, their data showed that our continued preoccupation with solving the economic problem was the starkest problem facing humankind and that the likeliest outcome if things continued was catastrophe.

A great deal of strategy work is trying to figure out what is going on. Not just deciding what to do, but the more fundamental problem of comprehending the situation.

My critique of GDP measurement in practice relates to its inability to report sufficiently accurately what it is intended to measure: the value of economic output. And pronouncements based on such data about long-run trends in income or the rate of increase of productivity should be taken with a grain of salt – or several. When pundits fret over whether the latest figure for GDP growth is an annual rate of 1.8 per cent or 1.9 per cent, they are fussing over differences that are insignificant in relation to the fundamental and inescapable uncertainties in the data they are citing.

Real businesspeople operate in ‘large worlds’, in which problems are ill defined and there are no objectively correct answers. Moreover, the ‘right’ answer will often not be apparent, even in retrospect. Effective decision-makers in large worlds are not maximising; they do not have and never can have the information needed to make the relevant calculations. They confront radical uncertainty. Often they not only do not know what will happen but do not even know the kinds of things that might happen. Although we must abandon ‘the pretence of knowledge’, individuals, institutions and businesspeople need to act in the face of uncertainties.

I wanted to write a sort of cybernetic political thriller, but it didn’t quite work out that way. It seems that in order to get to the point where the story begins, you need to write eight chapters explaining the construction of the murder weapon. But here we are. To recapitulate, the basic problem is that systems in general need to have mechanisms to recognise themselves when the complexity of their environment gets too much to bear. But the high-level governing systems of the industrial world — economic policy and business management — had some defects and blind spots which prevented this from happening. How did that turn into an economic crisis, and how did it mature into an ongoing political polycrisis? How did we get from the Friedman doctrine and leveraged buyouts to Trump, Brexit and populism?

The first part of the story involves expanding on the conclusion of the last chapter. A key part of recent history has been a story of class struggle, but not the usual kind. There’s been a class war between the capital-owning class and the managerial class.