The big business of survival bunkers

THE TERM “prepper” once carried a hint of derision, describing paranoid types who stockpiled supplies—and perhaps guns—in anticipation of society’s collapse. But in recent years—with climate change, covid-19 and political strife fuelling doomsday thinking—prepping has gone mainstream. Some 20m Americans, up from 10m in 2017, now fall into that category, reckons Chris Ellis, who researches disaster resilience. Videos on survival skills attract millions of views online. Americans are thought to spend billions of dollars a year preparing for emergencies. At the extreme end of the market sits the bunker business.

Interest in bomb and fallout shelters is rising, according to industry estimates. The sector could top $175m by 2030, by some projections. Shelters are becoming “about as commonplace as a pool”, says Ron Hubbard of Atlas Survival Shelters, between musings about Armageddon. The builder’s website lists a number of threats his bunkers claim to guard against, including “pandemic outbreak”, “malicious mobs” and “nuclear fallout”.

Mr Hubbard caters to a range of customers, offering bunkers costing from $25,000 to $10m. He says he currently has orders from more than 700 households. To attract the DIY crowd, he recently began selling the parts needed to build shelters—a division he describes as “Home Depot for survivalists”. The war with Iran, he says, has been good for business. Atlas began taking clients in Dubai days before the conflict broke out and is expanding elsewhere, too. Mr Hubbard expects his sales volume to quadruple this year.

Another firm, Vivos, sells bunkers repurposed from wartime shelters. It says it is creating “the largest survival community on Earth” at a former army base in South Dakota, where customers can buy or rent old munitions bunkers. Renting one involves signing a 99-year lease, with $55,000 due upfront and annual “ground rent” of around $1,100. Almost 300 shelters have been claimed, though construction backlogs have slowed progress, says Dante Vicino, the firm’s executive director. On its website the company alludes to disaster prophecies, but Mr Vicino insists he does not sell fear. The messaging, he says, is “meant to be a little edgy and catchy”.

Preparing for the end of the world is not without present-day hurdles. Mr Hubbard says that tariffs and the cost of steel and oil have forced him to raise prices. A dispute over the terms of Vivos’s lease has reached South Dakota’s Supreme Court (the firm says the case stems from a legitimate eviction). Other customers have sued, alleging that promised common-area amenities were not provided. When society breaks down, a little community may go a long way.■