Archive for February, 2005

Working Together

Friday, February 11th, 2005

The following selection from The Happy Child: Changing the Heart of Education, by Steven Harrison was found on the Internet.


Culture and Perspective

Steven Harrison

“A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices.” –William James

Recently, I walked through a store with one of my young children. I was distracted for a few moments by my purchase and my son became captivated by a television monitor in the corner broadcasting smarmy offers for products of one kind or another. He joined me after a few minutes and began repeating the jargon of the piped-in come-on, intrigued by the promise that he could join in the wonderful world that was promised by the toy, the movie, or the dirnk simply by buying something. My son had learned something. I had learned something too. No one had asked me if it was all right to sell my son something. And no one will in the future. My son is a market share, however small, and marketers will find him wherever he goes.

The culture’s perspective and my son’s perspective are in constant interaction, and much of that interaction will have to do with a relationship to materialism. The market will promise happiness, but it can deliver only goods and services. What my son is learning from his culture is that goods and services are the same as happiness. What is important to me is that he have the opportunity to find out, for himself, whether this is true. His understanding will make up his life.

It is impossible to address the question of educating our children without taking on the difficult task of understanding the culture in which the child learns. In the contemporary western culture, we are subject to powerful media forces that condition our perspectives in powerful ways. We can hardly move about in society without ingesting marketing of one product or another. More insidious is the omnipresence of brands, representing entire lifesyles and evoking feelings of freedom, happiness, and accomplishment through the choice of the proper can of soft drink or designer jeans.

This crass, materialistic society is teaching us constantly. Marketing is education, but what is taught is consumption, not consideration. Reflection on the nature of the market forces is not desirable from a marketing standpoint. This is why marketing always tries to co-opt the consumer by creating fads, tendencies, and urges just below the threshold of considered action. Marketing speaks in hyperbolie or subliminal language, seldom in accurate or factual terms. It is fundamentally dangerous to our children to be unaware of the impact of these forces on their minds

Children who have been given responsibility and the freedom to exercise it develop critical thinking as an obvious by-product of their circumstance. They have the chance to explore what brings them satisfaction and what does not. The child whose discrimination and will has been broken down by years of coercive education is a perfect candidate to be a pliant consumer of whatever is being sold. Of course, what is sold must be produced, and the pliant consumer is also a docile worker.

To educate our children in a new way, we must understand our culture — the social contracts and paradigms that make up our collective perspective. The forces of mass marketing and consumerism come out of deeply entranched patterns in our society and its history. They reflect the very structure of mind and biology that make up the individual. If we can understand something about out individual and collective reality, we can hope to create a learning environment that is something more than just an indoctrination into our conflicted world.

Working Together

Wednesday, February 9th, 2005

Found on the Internet.


Toward a Sustainable Community

Anonymous

Not until the spread of the Industrial Revolution in the late nineteenth century, has man possessed the ability to adversely alter, on a global scale, the geologic and climatic cycles that have existed for millennia. Planet earth, which man calls home, is approximately 5 billion years old. The science of paleontology tells us that man is a relative new comer to the planet. Modern man did not arrive on the scene until approximately 10,000 to 15,000 years ago. Developments in hunting, agriculture, literacy, and the sciences, have allowed man to thrive and inhabit nearly every corner of the planet. However, this success has not been good for the earth. The world’s population has recently surpassed 6 billion and the developed countries community models and lifestyles are not sustainable.

Due to rapid, unrestrained growth, housing, shopping, and entertainment construction has spread across the surface of the planet like an oil slick. We are depleting resources and altering ecosystems at an alarming rate. Only now are we beginning to comprehend the long-term effects of more than a century of environmental ignorance, neglect, and apathy.

Historically, city and community planners lacked the vision and understanding that would lead to environmentally friendly and sustainable conditions, allowing us to live in harmony with nature. This, coupled with irresponsible consumerism and poor individual choices, has led us to a crossroad. It is now clear we cannot continue to build communities that are unsustainable and we must change our lifestyles. We have arrived at the threshold of the 21st century where nothing less than a global call to action is necessary. We can continue on our current path, which will ultimately lead to severe health problems, loss of valuable resources, extinctions, and a wholesale denial of contaminated areas, or we can take positive, radical steps to break with the past.

Regarding unsustainable communities and lifestyles, the blame lies mainly with two specific phenomena, American’s love affair with the automobile, and the “American Dream” of owning a home and land outside of the city. A car-dependent lifestyle introduces numerous problems and exacerbates the dilemma of exurb migration. With so many cars on the road, they become congested, leading to the need for new, longer, and wider roads that encroach on existing ecosystems and animal habitats. With roads and highways stretching farther and farther from the city, suburbanites can now live at greater distances from the cities requiring a need for increased fossil fuel production. This increased consumption and burning of fossil fuels increases air and water pollution and contributes to the greenhouse effect. It is estimated that out of the millions of underground storage tanks of gasoline and diesel fuel across the U.S., over 300,000 have failed, contaminating the surrounding ground water tables (Nebel, Wright 490). In the case of the fuel additive, Methyl Tertiary-Butyl Ether (MTBE), contaminated wells have to be shut down entirely.

Many cities fail to meet air-quality standards even with improved pollution controls. Vehicles are responsible for an estimated 80% of the air pollution in metropolitan regions (Nebel, Wright 581). Vehicle traffic congestion increases year after year, accounting for billions of dollars worth of lost time and productivity. From 1945 to 1980, U.S. oil consumption nearly quadrupled while the population grew by just 60 percent (Nebel, Wright 581). According to the Washington Post, the world’s oil reserves will be exhausted in approximately 40 to 50 years.

The “American Dream” of owning a home and land is something almost all Americans aspire to. However, this lifestyle is also responsible for a unique set of associated problems that contribute to a wasteful and unwise depletion of energy sources. Single family homes or detached dwellings, cost much more to heat than apartments. The paved area around all homes reduces rainfall percolation back to ground water tables. The increased run off due to the paving over of existing soil, causes erosion, and carries away surface pollutants such as lawn and garden chemicals. The unplanned communities that extend out from the cities eat up existing rich farmland, requiring food to be transported in from greater distances.

The only way we are going to be able to move away from unsustainable practices and behavior is through education, inclusion, planning, and regulation. By educating Americans about the effects of the car-dependent lifestyle and suburban sprawl, they will be able to make informed choices. This subject is something that should be taught to schoolchildren at the earliest opportunity. Including a diverse group of citizens and actively soliciting their ideas and opinions will lead to consensus and a unified population. While long term programs and vision were clearly not a priority in community and city planning in the past, sustainable communities require the insight and cooperation of experts and professionals from many specialized occupations.

Finally, pressuring and lobbying elected bodies at all levels, local, state, and government will force them to act decisively. Laws will have to be implemented that will certainly be viewed unpopular by some. For example, a moratorium on construction projects that contribute to urban sprawl could effect a more efficient use of land and lead to more compact growth. A renaissance of city planning and integrated design that offers something for everyone is needed. Instead of spending millions of dollars upgrading and building roads, funds could be diverted to fast, efficient, and environmentally friendly ways of moving people such as, electric buses and trolleys, high-speed trains, and monorail. To curtail automobile use, tax penalties could be levied that would make owning and driving internal combustion vehicles less desirable.

In the U.S., we enjoy the freedom to vote for like minded officials and leaders. Our constitution gives us the right to speak freely and organize but these freedoms are only half the answer. We must take advantage of and exercise that freedom to make a difference. Individuals can effect change by identifying problems in their own communities and making their voices heard. Getting involved, organizing individuals at the grassroots level, and participating in local and national elections to effect the kind of change necessary for sustainable communities to flourish is what is needed.

Slowly, the population is becoming aware of their unsustainable lifestyles and the effects. A recent Gallup poll acknowledges the increased awareness of individual citizens around the world. Pessimism about the future is pervasive in many nations, evidenced by the survey conducted in 17 countries. More than three-quarters of Venezuelans felt their children would be worse off in the future than they are now, where the earth’s ecology is concerned. The Taiwanese were the most optimistic and the United States ranked 11th out of the 17 countries polled.

What is going to be the catalyst for change? Is it the fact that we don’t want to leave a legacy of dead ecosystems and unlivable areas due to contamination and pollution for our children and future generations? Arguably, the most important weapon against those that would pollute our air, water, and food sources is an educated citizenry. What if we are the polluters? Again, education and action is the key to resolving the problems associated with unsustainability. Once people understand the negative impact their decisions have on their environment and the importance of changing their lifestyles, their wiliness to change to more eco friendly behavior, allowing sustainable communities and lifestyles will follow.

It has only been within the last thirty years that we have come to understand just how devastating our actions are to the environment and the delicate fabric of the earth’s ecosystems. Through advances in technology, man is able to search the heavens, listening and looking out thousands of light years to investigate the universe and its origins. The knowledge gained has allowed us to understand just how unique and fragile our biosphere is to man’s existence. To date, there is no other place in the universe that can support human life, as we know it here on earth. Even if we were able to find a solar system similar to our own, we do not currently possess the technology to travel to such a place. What does this mean for humankind? Earth is our home, everything in, on, and around it is a priceless, finite resource that life depends on and we should treat it as such. It should guide and encompass all aspects of our lives. We need to understand this tenet; our lifestyles and communities should embrace and reflect it.

Working Together

Sunday, February 6th, 2005

This is review of the new book COLLAPSE, reposted from The New York Times.


There Goes the Neighborhood

Gregg Easterbrook

EIGHT years ago Jared Diamond realized what is, for authors, increasingly a fantasy — he published a serious, challenging and complex book that became a huge commercial success. ”Guns, Germs, and Steel” won a Pulitzer Prize, then sold a million copies, astonishing for a 480-page volume of archeological speculation on how the world reached its present ordering of nations. Now he has written a sequel, ”Collapse,” which asks whether present nations can last. Taken together, ”Guns, Germs, and Steel” and ”Collapse” represent one of the most significant projects embarked upon by any intellectual of our generation. They are magnificent books: extraordinary in erudition and originality, compelling in their ability to relate the digitized pandemonium of the present to the hushed agrarian sunrises of the far past. I read both thinking what literature might be like if every author knew so much, wrote so clearly and formed arguments with such care. All of which makes the two books exasperating, because both come to conclusions that are probably wrong.

”Guns” asked why the West is atop the food chain of nations. Its conclusion, that Western success was a coincidence driven by good luck, has proven extremely influential in academia, as the view is quintessentially postmodern. Now ”Collapse” posits that the Western way of life is flirting with the sudden ruin that caused past societies like the Anasazi and the Mayans to vanish. Because this view, too, is exactly what postmodernism longs to hear, ”Collapse” may prove influential as well.

Born in Boston in 1937, Diamond is a professor of geography at the University of California, Los Angeles. Initially he specialized in conservation biology, studying bird diversity in New Guinea; in 1985 he won one of the early MacArthur ”genius grants.” Gradually he began to wonder why societies of the western Pacific islands never developed the metallurgy, farming techniques or industrial production of Eurasia. Diamond also studied the application of natural-selection theory to physiology, and in 1999 received a National Medal of Science for that work, which is partly reflected in his book ”Why Is Sex Fun?” (Sex is fun; the book is serious.) Today Diamond often returns to the Pacific rim, especially Australia, where in the outback one may still hear the rustle of distant animal cries just as our forebears heard them in the far past.

”Collapse” may be read alone, but begins where ”Guns, Germs, and Steel” ended: essentially the two form a single 1,000-page book. The thesis of the first part is that environmental coincidences are the principal factor in human history. Diamond contends it was chance, not culture or brainpower, that brought industrial power first to Europe; Western civilization has nothing to boast about.

Many arguments in ”Guns” were dazzling. Diamond showed, for example, that as the last ice age ended, by chance Eurasia held many plants that could be bred for controlled farming. The Americas had few edible plants suitable for cross-breeding, while Africa had poor soil owing to the millions of years since it had been glaciated. Thus large-scale food production began first in the Fertile Crescent, China and Europe. Population in those places rose, and that meant lots of people living close together, which accelerated invention; in other locations the low-population hunter-gatherer lifestyle of antiquity remained in place. ”Guns” contends the fundamental reason Europe of the middle period could send sailing ships to explore the Americas and Africa, rather than these areas sending sailing ships to explore Europe, is that ancient happenstance involving plants gave Europe a food edge that translated into a head start on technology. Then, the moment European societies forged steel and fashioned guns, they acquired a runaway advantage no hunter-gatherer society could possibly counter.

Also, as the ice age ended, Eurasia was home to large mammals that could be domesticated, while most parts of the globe were not. In early history, animals were power: huge advantages were granted by having cattle for meat and milk, horses and elephants for war. Horses — snarling devil-monsters to the Inca — were a reason 169 Spaniards could kill thousands of Incas at the battle of Cajamarca in 1532, for example. ”Rhino-mounted Bantu shock troops could have overthrown the Roman Empire,” Diamond speculates, but the rhino and other large mammals of Africa defied domestication, leaving that continent at a competitive disadvantage.

Large populations and the fact that Eurasians lived among domesticated animals meant Europe was rife with sicknesses to which the survivors acquired immunity. When Europeans began to explore other lands, their microbes wiped out indigenous populations, easing conquest. Almost all variations in societies, Diamond concludes, are caused not by societies themselves but by ”differences in their environments”; the last 500 years of rising power for the West ”has its ultimate roots in developments between about 11,000 B.C. and A.D. 1,” the deck always stacked in Europe’s favor.

In this respect, ”Guns, Germs, and Steel” is pure political correctness, and its P.C. quotient was a reason the book won praise. But the book must not be dismissed because it is P.C.: sometimes politically correct is, after all, correct. The flaws of the work are more subtle, and they set the stage for ”Collapse.” One flaw was that Diamond argued mainly from the archaeological record — a record that is a haphazard artifact of items that just happened to survive. We know precious little about what was going on in 11,000 B.C., and much of what we think we know is inferential. It may be decades or centuries until we understand human prehistory, if we ever do.

Diamond’s analysis discounts culture and human thought as forces in history; culture, especially, is seen as a side effect of environment. The big problem with this view is explaining why China — which around the year 1000 was significantly ahead of Europe in development, and possessed similar advantages in animals and plants — fell behind. This happened, Diamond says, because China adopted a single-ruler society that banned change. True, but how did environment or animal husbandry dic-tate this? China’s embrace of a change-resistant society was a cultural phenomenon. During the same period China was adopting centrally regimented life, Europe was roiled by the idea of individualism. Individualism proved a potent force, a source of power, invention and motivation. Yet Diamond considers ideas to be nearly irrelevant, compared with microbes and prevailing winds. Supply the right environmental conditions, and inevitably there will be a factory manufacturing jet engines.

Many thinkers have attempted single-explanation theories for history. Such attempts hold innate appeal — wouldn’t it be great if there were a single explanation! — but have a poor track record. My guess is that despite its conspicuous brilliance, ”Guns, Germs, and Steel” will eventually be viewed as a drastic oversimplification. Its arguments come perilously close to determinism, and it is hard to believe that the world is as it is because it had to be that way.

Diamond ended his 1997 book by supposing, ”The challenge now is to develop human history as a science.” That is what ”Collapse” attempts — to use history as a science to forecast whether the current world order will fail. To research his new book, Diamond traveled to the scenes of vanished societies like Easter Island, Norse Greenland, the Anasazi, the Mayans. He must have put enormous effort into ”Collapse,” and his willingness to do so after achieving wealth and literary celebrity — surely publishers would have taken anything he dashed off — speaks well of his dedication.

”Collapse” spends considerable pages contemplating past life on Easter Island, as well as on Pitcairn and Henderson islands, and on Greenland, an island. Deforestation, the book shows, was a greater factor in the breakdown of societies in these places than commonly understood. Because trees take so long to regrow, deforestation has more severe consequences than crop failure, and can trigger disastrous erosion. Centuries ago, the deforestation of Easter Island allowed wind to blow off the island’s thin topsoil: ”starvation, a population crash and a descent into cannibalism” followed, leaving those haunting statues for Europeans to find. Climate change and deforestation that set off soil loss, Diamond shows, were leading causes of the Anasazi and Mayan declines. ”Collapse” reminds us that like fossil fuels, soil is a resource that took millions of years to accumulate and that humanity now races through: Diamond estimates current global soil loss at 10 to 40 times the rate of soil formation. Deforestation ”was a or the major factor” in all the collapsed societies he describes, while climate change was a recurring menace.

How much do Diamond’s case studies bear on current events? He writes mainly about isolated islands and pretechnology populations. Imagine the conditions when Erik the Red founded his colony on frigid Greenland in 984 — if something went wrong, the jig was up. As isolated systems, islands are more vulnerable than continents. Most dire warnings about species extinction, for example, are estimates drawn from studies of island ecologies, where a stressed species may have no place to retreat to. ”Collapse” declares that ”a large fraction” of the world’s species may fall extinct in the next 50 years, which is the kind of conclusion favored by biologists who base their research on islands. But most species don’t live on islands. The International Union for the Conservation of Nature, the leading authority on biodiversity, estimates that about 9 percent of the world’s vertebrate species are imperiled. That’s plenty bad enough, but does not support the idea that a ”large fraction” of species are poised to vanish. Like most species, most people do not live on islands, yet ”Collapse” tries to generalize from environmental failures on isolated islands to environmental threats to society as a whole.

Diamond rightly warns of alarming trends in biodiversity, soil loss, freshwater limits (China is depleting its aquifers at a breakneck rate), overfishing (much of the developing world relies on the oceans for protein) and climate change (there is a strong scientific consensus that future warming could be dangerous). These and other trends may lead to a global crash: ”Our world society is presently on a nonsustainable course.” The West, especially, is in peril: ”The prosperity that the First World enjoys at present is based on spending down its environmental capital.” Calamity could come quickly: ”A society’s steep decline may begin only a decade or two after the society reaches its peak numbers, wealth and power.”

Because population pressure played a prominent role in the collapses of some past societies, Diamond especially fears population growth. Owing to sheer numbers it is an ”impossibility” that the developing world will ever reach Western living standards. Some projections suggest the globe’s population, now about 6 billion, may peak at about 8.5 billion. To Diamond, this is a nightmare scenario: defenders of population growth ”nonchalantly” mention ”adding ‘only’ 2.5 billion more people . . . as if that were acceptable.” Population growth has made Los Angeles ”less appealing,” especially owing to traffic: ”I have never met an Angeleno (and very few people anywhere in the world) who personally expressed a desire for increased population.” About the only nonaboriginal society Diamond has kind words for is pre-Meiji Japan, where population control was strictly enforced. But wait — pre-Meiji Japan collapsed!

If 2.5 billion more people are not ”acceptable,” how, exactly, would Diamond prevent their births? He does not say. Nuclear war, plague, a comet strike or coerced mass sterilizations seem the only forces that might stop the human population from rising to its predicted peak. Everyone dislikes traffic jams and other aspects of population density, but people are here and cannot be wished away; the challenge is to manage social pressure and create enough jobs until the population peak arrives. And is it really an ”impossibility” for developing-world living standards to reach the Western level? A century ago, rationalists would have called global consumption of 78 million barrels per day of petroleum an impossibility, and that’s the latest figure.

If trends remain unchanged, the global economy is unsustainable. But the Fallacy of Uninterrupted Trends tells us patterns won’t remain unchanged. For instance, deforestation of the United States, rampant in the 19th century, has stopped: forested acreage of the country began rising during the 20th century, and is still rising. Why? Wood is no longer a primary fuel, while high-yield agriculture allowed millions of acres to be retired from farming and returned to trees. Today wood is a primary fuel in the developing world, so deforestation is acute; but if developing nations move on to other energy sources, forest cover will regrow. If the West changes from fossil fuel to green power, its worst resource trend will not continue uninterrupted.

Though Diamond endorses ”cautious optimism,” ”Collapse” comes to a wary view of the human prospect. Diamond fears our fate was set in motion in antiquity — we’re living off the soil and petroleum bequeathed by the far past, and unless there are profound changes in behavior, all may crash when legacy commodities run out. Oddly, for someone with a background in evolutionary theory, he seems not to consider society’s evolutionary arc. He thinks backward 13,000 years, forward only a decade or two. What might human society be like 13,000 years from now? Above us in the Milky Way are essentially infinite resources and living space. If the phase of fossil-driven technology leads to discoveries that allow Homo sapiens to move into the galaxy, then resources, population pressure and other issues that worry Diamond will be forgotten. Most of the earth may even be returned to primordial stillness, and the whole thing would have happened in the blink of an eye by nature’s standards.

Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company

More from The New York Times

Collapse at Amazon.com

Working Together

Wednesday, February 2nd, 2005

This is an excerpt from the first chapter of a new book, reposted from The New York Times.


Collapse

Jared Diamond

A few summers ago I visited two dairy farms, Huls Farm and Gardar Farm, which despite being located thousands of miles apart were still remarkably similar in their strengths and vulnerabilities. Both were by far the largest, most prosperous, most technologically advanced farms in their respective districts. In particular, each was centered around a magnificent state-of-the-art barn for sheltering and milking cows. Those structures, both neatly divided into opposite-facing rows of cow stalls, dwarfed all other barns in the district. Both farms let their cows graze outdoors in lush pastures during the summer, produced their own hay to harvest in the late summer for feeding the cows through the winter, and increased their production of summer fodder and winter hay by irrigating their fields. The two farms were similar in area (a few square miles) and in barn size, Huls barn holding somewhat more cows than Gardar barn (200 vs. 165 cows, respectively). The owners of both farms were viewed as leaders of their respective societies. Both owners were deeply religious. Both farms were located in gorgeous natural settings that attract tourists from afar, with backdrops of high snow-capped mountains drained by streams teaming with fish, and sloping down to a famous river (below Huls Farm) or 3ord (below Gardar Farm).

Those were the shared strengths of the two farms. As for their shared vulnerabilities, both lay in districts economically marginal for dairying, because their high northern latitudes meant a short summer growing season in which to produce pasture grass and hay. Because the climate was thus suboptimal even in good years, compared to dairy farms at lower latitudes, both farms were susceptible to being harmed by climate change, with drought or cold being the main concerns in the districts of Huls Farm or Gardar Farm respectively. Both districts lay far from population centers to which they could market their products, so that transportation costs and hazards placed them at a competitive disadvantage compared to more centrally located districts. The economies of both farms were hostage to forces beyond their owners’ control, such as the changing affluence and tastes of their customers and neighbors. On a larger scale, the economies of the countries in which both farms lay rose and fell with the waxing and waning of threats from distant enemy societies.

The biggest difference between Huls Farm and Gardar Farm is in their current status. Huls Farm, a family enterprise owned by five siblings and their spouses in the Bitterroot Valley of the western U.S. state of Montana, is currently prospering, while Ravalli County in which Huls Farm lies boasts one of the highest population growth rates of any American county. Tim, Trudy, and Dan Huls, who are among Huls Farm’s owners, personally took me on a tour of their high-tech new barn, and patiently explained to me the attractions and vicissitudes of dairy farming in Montana. It is inconceivable that the United States in general, and Huls Farm in particular, will collapse in the foreseeable future. But Gardar Farm, the former manor farm of the Norse bishop of southwestern Greenland, was abandoned over 500 years ago. Greenland Norse society collapsed completely: its thousands of inhabitants starved to death, were killed in civil unrest or in war against an enemy, or emigrated, until nobody remained alive. While the strongly built stone walls of Gardar barn and nearby Gardar Cathedral are still standing, so that I was able to count the individual cow stalls, there is no owner to tell me today of Gardar’s former attractions and vicissitudes. Yet when Gardar Farm and Norse Greenland were at their peak, their decline seemed as inconceivable as does the decline of Huls Farm and the U.S. today.

Let me make clear: in drawing these parallels between Huls and Gardar Farms, I am not claiming that Huls Farm and American society are doomed to decline. At present, the truth is quite the opposite: Huls Farm is in the process of expanding, its advanced new technology is being studied for adoption by neighboring farms, and the United States is now the most powerful country in the world. Nor am I claiming that farms or societies in general are prone to collapse: while some have indeed collapsed like Gardar, others have survived uninterruptedly for thousands of years. Instead, my trips to Huls and Gardar Farms, thousands of miles apart but visited during the same summer, vividly brought home to me the conclusion that even the richest, technologically most advanced societies today face growing environmental and economic problems that should not be underestimated. Many of our problems are broadly similar to those that undermined Gardar Farm and Norse Greenland, and that many other past societies also struggled to solve. Some of those past societies failed (like the Greenland Norse), and others succeeded (like the Japanese and Tikopians). The past offers us a rich database from which we can learn, in order that we may keep on succeeding.

Norse Greenland is just one of many past societies that collapsed or vanished, leaving behind monumental ruins such as those that Shelley imagined in his poem “Ozymandias.” By collapse, I mean a drastic decrease in human population size and/or political/economic/social complexity, over a considerable area, for an extended time. The phenomenon of collapses is thus an extreme form of several milder types of decline, and it becomes arbitrary to decide how drastic the decline of a society must be before it qualifies to be labeled as a collapse. Some of those milder types of decline include the normal minor rises and falls of fortune, and minor political/economic/social restructurings, of any individual society; one society’s conquest by a close neighbor, or its decline linked to the neighbor’s rise, without change in the total population size or complexity of the whole region; and the replacement or overthrow of one governing elite by another. By those standards, most people would consider the following past societies to have been famous victims of full-fledged collapses rather than of just minor declines: the Anasazi and Cahokia within the boundaries of the modern U.S., the Maya cities in Central America, Moche and Tiwanaku societies in South America, Mycenean Greece and Minoan Crete in Europe, Great Zimbabwe in Africa, Angkor Wat and the Harappan Indus Valley cities in Asia, and Easter Island in the Pacific Ocean (map, pp. 4-5).

The monumental ruins left behind by those past societies hold a romantic fascination for all of us. We marvel at them when as children we first learn of them through pictures. When we grow up, many of us plan vacations in order to experience them at firsthand as tourists. We feel drawn to their often spectacular and haunting beauty, and also to the mysteries that they pose. The scales of the ruins testify to the former wealth and power of their builders-they boast “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!” in Shelley’s words. Yet the builders vanished, abandoning the great structures that they had created at such effort. How could a society that was once so mighty end up collapsing? What were the fates of its individual citizens?-did they move away, and (if so) why, or did they die there in some unpleasant way? Lurking behind this romantic mystery is the nagging thought: might such a fate eventually befall our own wealthy society? Will tourists someday stare mystified at the rusting hulks of New York’s skyscrapers, much as we stare today at the jungle-overgrown ruins of Maya cities?

It has long been suspected that many of those mysterious abandonments were at least partly triggered by ecological problems: people inadvertently destroying the environmental resources on which their societies depended. This suspicion of unintended ecological suicide-ecocide-has been confirmed by discoveries made in recent decades by archaeologists, climatologists, historians, paleontologists, and palynologists (pollen scientists). The processes through which past societies have undermined themselves by damaging their environments fall into eight categories, whose relative importance differs from case to case: deforestation and habitat destruction, soil problems (erosion, salinization, and soil fertility losses), water management problems, overhunting, overfishing, effects of introduced species on native species, human population growth, and increased per-capita impact of people.

Those past collapses tended to follow somewhat similar courses constituting variations on a theme. Population growth forced people to adopt intensified means of agricultural production (such as irrigation, double-cropping, or terracing), and to expand farming from the prime lands first chosen onto more marginal land, in order to feed the growing number of hungry mouths. Unsustainable practices led to environmental damage of one or more of the eight types just listed, resulting in agriculturally marginal lands having to be abandoned again. Consequences for society included food shortages, starvation, wars among too many people fighting for too few resources, and overthrows of governing elites by disillusioned masses. Eventually, population decreased through starvation, war, or disease, and society lost some of the political, economic, and cultural complexity that it had developed at its peak. Writers find it tempting to draw analogies between those trajectories of human societies and the trajectories of individual human lives-to talk of a society’s birth, growth, peak, senescence, and death-and to assume that the long period of senescence that most of us traverse between our peak years and our deaths also applies to societies. But that metaphor proves erroneous for many past societies (and for the modern Soviet Union): they declined rapidly after reaching peak numbers and power, and those rapid declines must have come as a surprise and shock to their citizens. In the worst cases of complete collapse, everybody in the society emigrated or died. Obviously, though, this grim trajectory is not one that all past societies followed unvaryingly to completion: different societies collapsed to different degrees and in somewhat different ways, while many societies didn’t collapse at all.

The risk of such collapses today is now a matter of increasing concern; indeed, collapses have already materialized for Somalia, Rwanda, and some other Third World countries. Many people fear that ecocide has now come to overshadow nuclear war and emerging diseases as a threat to global civilization. The environmental problems facing us today include the same eight that undermined past societies, plus four new ones: human-caused climate change, buildup of toxic chemicals in the environment, energy shortages, and full human utilization of the Earth’s photosynthetic capacity. Most of these 12 threats, it is claimed, will become globally critical within the next few decades: either we solve the problems by then, or the problems will undermine not just Somalia but also First World societies. Much more likely than a doomsday scenario involving human extinction or an apocalyptic collapse of industrial civilization would be “just” a future of significantly lower living standards, chronically higher risks, and the undermining of what we now consider some of our key values. Such a collapse could assume various forms, such as the worldwide spread of diseases or else of wars, triggered ultimately by scarcity of environmental resources. If this reasoning is correct, then our efforts today will determine the state of the world in which the current generation of children and young adults lives out their middle and late years. But the seriousness of these current environmental problems is vigorously debated. Are the risks greatly exaggerated, or conversely are they underestimated? Does it stand to reason that today’s human population of almost seven billion, with our potent modern technology, is causing our environment to crumble globally at a much more rapid rate than a mere few million people with stone and wooden tools already made it crumble locally in the past? Will modern technology solve our problems, or is it creating new problems faster than it solves old ones? When we deplete one resource (e.g., wood, oil, or ocean fish), can we count on being able to substitute some new resource (e.g., plastics, wind and solar energy, or farmed fish)?

Isn’t the rate of human population growth declining, such that we’re already on course for the world’s population to level off at some manageable number of people?

All of these questions illustrate why those famous collapses of past civilizations have taken on more meaning than just that of a romantic mystery. Perhaps there are some practical lessons that we could learn from all those past collapses. We know that some past societies collapsed while others didn’t: what made certain societies especially vulnerable? What, exactly, were the processes by which past societies committed ecocide? Why did some past societies fail to see the messes that they were getting into, and that (one would think in retrospect) must have been obvious? Which were the solutions that succeeded in the past? If we could answer these questions, we might be able to identify which societies are now most at risk, and what measures could best help them, without waiting for more Somalia-like collapses.

But there are also differences between the modern world and its problems, and those past societies and their problems. We shouldn’t be so naÔve as to think that study of the past will yield simple solutions, directly transferable to our societies today. We differ from past societies in some respects that put us at lower risk than them; some of those respects often mentioned include our powerful technology (i.e., its beneficial effects), globalization, modern medicine, and greater knowledge of past societies and of distant modern societies. We also differ from past societies in some respects that put us at greater risk than them: mentioned in that connection are, again, our potent technology (i.e., its unintended destructive effects), globalization (such that now a collapse even in remote Somalia affects the U.S. and Europe), the dependence of millions (and, soon, billions) of us on modern medicine for our survival, and our much larger human population. Perhaps we can still learn from the past, but only if we think carefully about its lessons.

Efforts to understand past collapses have had to confront one major controversy and four complications. The controversy involves resistance to the idea that past peoples (some of them known to be ancestral to peoples currently alive and vocal) did things that contributed to their own decline.

Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company

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