The Rise and Fall of the Third Chimpanzee

by Jared Diamond

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  Our remaining example of pre-industrial habitat destruction illuminates the gradual geographic shift in the power centre of ancient western civilizations. Recall that the first centre of power and innovation was the Mideast, where so many crucial developments arose – agriculture, animal domestication, writing, imperial states, battle chariots, and others. Ascendancy shifted between Assyria, Babylon, Persia, and occasionally Egypt or Turkey, but remained in or near the Mideast. With the overthrow of the Persian Empire by Alexander the Great, ascendancy moved finally westward, at first to Greece, then to Rome, and later to western and northern Europe. Why did the Mideast, Greece, and Rome in turn lose their primacy? (The transient current importance of the Mideast, resting as it does on the single resource of oil, merely emphasizes by contrast the region’s modern weakness in other respects.) Why do modern superpowers include the US and Russia, Germany and England, Japan and China, but no longer Greece and Persia?

  This geographic shift in power is too big and lasting a pattern to have arisen by accident. A plausible hypothesis attributes it to each ancient centre of civilization in turn ruining its resource base. The Mideast and Mediterranean were not always the degraded landscape that they appear today. In ancient times much of this area was a lush, fertile mosaic of wooded hills and fertile valleys. Thousands of years of deforestation, overgrazing, erosion, and valley siltation converted this heartland of Western civilization into the relatively dry, barren, infertile landscape that predominates today. Archaeological surveys of ancient Greece have revealed several cycles of population growth alternating with population crashes and local abandonment of human settlements. In the growth phases, terracing and dams initially protected the landscape until felling of forests, clearing of steep slopes for agriculture, overgrazing by too many livestock, and planting of crops at too short intervals overwhelmed the system. The result each time was massive erosion of the hills, flooding of the valleys, and the collapse of local human society. One such event coincided with (and may have caused) the otherwise mysterious collapse of Greece’s glorious Mycenean civilization, after which Greece fell back for several centuries into a dark age of illiteracy.

  The support for this view of ancient environmental destruction comes from sources such as contemporary accounts and archaeological evidence. Yet a few sequences of photographs would constitute more decisive tests than all that anecdotal evidence combined. If we had snapshots of the same Greek hillside taken at thousand-year intervals, we could identify the plants, measure the ground cover, and calculate the shift from forest to goat-proof shrubs. We could thereby put numbers on the extent of environmental degradation.

  Enter middens to the rescue again. While the Mideast does not have packrats, it does have rabbit-sized, marmot-like animals called hyraxes that build middens in the same way as packrats. (Surprisingly, the closest living relatives of hyraxes may be elephants.) Three Arizona scientists – Patricia Fall, Cynthia Lindquist, and Steven Falconer – studied hyrax middens at Jordan’s famous lost city of Petra, which typifies the paradox of ancient Western civilization. Petra is now especially familiar to movie-going aficionados of Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, whose film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade shows Sean Connery and Harrison Ford searching for the Holy Grail in Petra’s magnificent rock tombs and temples amidst the desert sand. Anyone who sees those scenes of Petra must wonder how such a wealthy city could have arisen and supported itself in such a bleak landscape. In fact, there was already a Neolithic village near the site of Petra before 7000 BC, and farming and herding appeared there soon after. Under the Nabataean kingdom, of which it was the capital, Petra thrived as a commercial centre controlling trade between Europe, Arabia, and the Orient. The city grew even larger and richer under Roman, then Byzantine, control. Yet it was subsequently abandoned and so completely forgotten that its ruins were not rediscovered until 1812. What caused Petra’s collapse?

  Each hyrax midden from Petra yielded remains of up to 100 plant species, and the habitat prevailing when each midden’s owner was alive could be calibrated by comparing pollen proportions in the midden with those in modern habitats. From the middens, the following trajectory was reconstructed for the degradation of Petra’s environment.

  Petra lies in an area of dry Mediterranean climate not unlike that of the wooded mountains behind my home in Los Angeles. The original vegetation would have been a woodland dominated by oak and pistachio trees. By Roman and Byzantine times, most of the trees had been felled, and the surroundings had been degraded to an open steppe, as expressed in the fact that only eighteen per cent of midden pollen came from trees, the rest from low plants. (For comparison, trees contribute forty to eighty-five per cent of the pollen in modern Mediterranean forests, eighteen per cent in forest steppes.) By 900 AD, a few centuries after Byzantine control of the Petra area ended, two-thirds of the remaining trees had disappeared. Even shrubs, herbs, and grasses had declined, converting the environment into the desert that we see now. Surviving trees today have their lower branches pruned off by goats and are scattered on goat-proof cliffs or in groves protected from goats.

  Juxtaposing these data from hyrax middens with archaeological and literary data yields the following interpretation. Deforestation from Neolithic to Imperial times was driven by the clearing of land for agriculture, browsing by sheep and goats, gathering of firewood, and wood needs for house construction. Even Neolithic houses not only were supported by massive timbers but also consumed up to thirteen tons of firewood per house to make the plaster for the walls and floor. The Imperial population explosion quickened the pace of forest destruction and overgrazing. Elaborate systems of channels, pipes, and cisterns were needed to collect and store water for the orchards and city.

  After Byzantine authority collapsed, orchards were abandoned and the population crashed, but land degradation continued as the remaining inhabitants became dependent on intensive grazing. The insatiable goats began to eat their way through the shrubs, herbs, and grasses. The Ottoman government decimated surviving woodlands before the First World War, to obtain the wood needed for the Hejaz Railway. I and many other movie-goers thrilled at the sight of Arab guerrillas led by Lawrence of Arabia (a.k.a. Peter O’Toole) blowing up that railway in widescreen technicolour, without realizing that we were watching the last act in the destruction of Petra’s forests.

  Petra’s ravaged landscape today is a metaphor for what happened to the rest of the cradle of Western civilization. The modern surrounds of Petra could no more feed a city that commanded the world’s main trade routes than the modern surrounds of Persepolis could feed the capital of a superpower such as the Persian Empire once was. The ruins of those cities, and of Athens and Rome, are monuments to states that destroyed their means of survival. Nor are Western civilizations the only literate societies that committed ecological suicide. The collapse of Classic Maya civilization in Central America, and of Harappan civilization in India’s Indus Valley, are other obvious candidates for eco-disasters due to an expanding human population overwhelming its environment. While courses in the history of civilization often dwell on kings and barbarian invasions, deforestation and erosion may in the long run have been more important shapers of human history.

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  These are some of the recent discoveries making the supposed past Golden Age of environmentalism look increasingly mythical. Let’s now go back to the larger issues I raised at the outset. Firstly, how can these discoveries of past environmental damage be reconciled with accounts of conservationist practices by so many modern pre-industrial peoples? Obviously, not all species have been exterminated, and not all habitats have been destroyed, so the Golden Age could not have been all black.

  I suggest the following answer to this paradox. It is still true that small, long-established, egalitarian societies tend to evolve conservationist practices, because they have had plenty of time to get to know their local environment and to perceive their own self-interest. Instead, damage is likely to occur
when people suddenly colonize an unfamiliar environment (like the first Maoris and Easter Islanders); or when people advance along a new frontier (like the first Indians to reach America), so that they can just move beyond the frontier when they have damaged the region behind; or when people acquire a new technology whose destructive power they have not had time to appreciate (like modern New Guineans, now devastating pigeon populations with shotguns). Damage is also likely in centralized states that concentrate wealth in the hands of rulers, who are out of touch with their environment. Some species and habitats are more susceptible to damage than others – such as flightless birds that had never seen humans (like moas and elephant birds), or the dry, fragile, unforgiving environments in which both Western civilization and Anasazi civilization arose.

  Secondly, are there any practical lessons that we can learn from these recent archaeological discoveries? Archaeology is often regarded as a socially irrelevant academic discipline that becomes a prime target for budget cuts whenever money gets tight. In fact, archaeological research is one of the best bargains available to government planners. All over the world, we are launching developments that have great potential for doing irreversible damage, and that are really just more powerful versions of ideas put into operation by past societies. We cannot afford the experiment of developing five counties in five different ways and seeing which four counties get ruined. Instead, it will cost us much less in the long run if we hire archaeologists to find out what happened the last time, than if we go on making the same mistakes again.

  Here is just one example. The American Southwest has over 100,000 square miles of pinyon and juniper woodland that we are exploiting more and more for firewood. Unfortunately, the US Forest Service has little data available to help it calculate sustainable yields and recovery rates in that woodland. Yet the Anasazi already tried the experiment and miscalculated, with the result that the woodland still has not recovered in Chaco Canyon after over 800 years. Paying some archaeologists to reconstruct Anasazi firewood consumption would be cheaper than committing the same mistake and ruining 100,000 square miles of the US, as we may now be doing.

  Finally, let’s face the touchiest question. Today, environmentalists view people who exterminate species and destroy habitats as morally bad. Industrial societies have jumped at any excuse to denigrate pre-industrial peoples, in order to justify killing them and appropriating their land. Are the purported new finds about moas and Chaco Canyon vegetation just pseudo-scientific racism that in effect is saying, Maoris and Indians do not deserve fair treatment because they were bad?

  What has to be remembered is that it has always been hard for humans to know the rate at which they can safely harvest biological resources indefinitely, without depleting them. A significant decline in resources may not be easy to distinguish from a normal year-to-year fluctuation. It is even harder to assess the rate at which new resources are being produced. By the time that the signs of decline are clear enough to convince everybody, it may be too late to save the species or habitat. Thus, pre-industrial peoples who could not sustain their resources were guilty not of moral sins, but of failures to solve a really difficult ecological problem. Those failures were tragic, because they caused a collapse in lifestyle for the people themselves.

  Tragic failures become moral sins only if one should have known better from the outset. In that regard there are two big differences between us and eleventh-century Anasazi Indians – those of scientific understanding, and literacy. We know, and they did not know, how to draw graphs that plot sustainable resource population size as a function of resource harvesting rate. We can read about all the ecological disasters of the past; the Anasazi could not. Yet our generation continues to hunt whales and clear tropical rainforest, as if no one had ever hunted moas or cleared pinyon and juniper woodland. The past was still a Golden Age, of ignorance, while the present is an Iron Age of wilful blindness.

  From this point of view it is beyond understanding to see modern societies repeating the past’s suicidal ecological mismanagement, with much more powerful tools of destruction in the hands of far more people. It is as if we had not already run that particular film many times before in human history, and as if we did not know the inevitable outcome. Shelley’s sonnet ‘Ozymandias’ evokes Persepolis, Tikal, and Easter Island equally well; perhaps it will some day evoke to others the ruins of our own civilization.

  I met a traveller from an antique land

  Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

  Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

  Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

  And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

  Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

  Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

  The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;

  And on the pedestal these words appear:

  ‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

  Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’

  Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

  Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

  The lone and level sands stretch far away.

  EIGHTEEN

  BLITZKRIEG AND THANKSGIVING IN THE NEW WORLD

  The colonization of the Americas eleven thousand years ago by ancestors of today’s American Indians was the greatest extension of human lebensraum since Homo erectus emerged from Africa. It may also have been the first of the blitzkriegs against Nature that have since marked every expansion of humans into previously unpeopled areas. Within a short time of human arrival – perhaps only a few centuries – most of the big mammals of North and South America were extinct.

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  THE UNITED STATES devote two national holidays, Columbus Day and Thanksgiving Day, to celebrating dramatic moments in the European ‘discovery’ of the New World. No holidays commemorate the much earlier actual discovery by Indians. Yet archaeological excavations suggest that, in drama, that earlier discovery dwarfs the adventures of Christopher Columbus and of the Plymouth Pilgrims. Within perhaps as little as a thousand years after finding a way through an Arctic ice sheet and crossing the present border between the US and Canada, Indians had swept down to the tip of Patagonia and populated two productive and unexplored continents. The Indians’ march southwards was the greatest range expansion in the history of Homo sapiens. Nothing remotely like it can ever happen again on our planet.

  The sweep southwards was marked by another drama. When Indian hunters arrived, they found the Americas teeming with big mammals that are now extinct: elephant-like mammoths and mastodonts, ground sloths weighing up to three tons, armadillo-like glyptodonts weighing up to one ton, bear-sized beavers, and saber-toothed cats, plus American lions, cheetahs, camels, horses, and many others. Had those beasts survived, today’s tourists in Yellowstone National Park would be watching mammoths and lions along with the bears and bison. The question of what happened at that moment of hunters-meet-beasts is still highly controversial among archaeologists and paleontologists. According to the interpretation that seems most plausible to me, the outcome was a blitzkrieg in which the beasts were quickly exterminated – possibly within a mere ten years at any given site. If that view is correct, it would have been the most concentrated extinction of big animals since an asteroid collision (it is believed) knocked off the dinosaurs sixty-five million years ago. It would also have been the first of the series of blitzkriegs that marred our supposed Golden Age of environmental innocence (Chapter Seventeen), and that have remained a human hallmark ever since.

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  That dramatic confrontation came as the finale to a long epic in which humans, spreading out of their centre of origin in Africa, occupied all the other habitable continents. Our African ancestors expanded to Asia and Europe around a million years ago, and from Asia to Australia around 50,000 years ago, leaving North and South America as the last habitable continents still without Homo sapiens.

 
; From Canada to Tierra del Fuego, American Indians today are physically more homogeneous than the inhabitants of any other continent, implying that they arrived too recently to have become very diverse genetically. Even before archaeology uncovered evidence of the first Indians, it was clear that they must have originated from Asia, because modern Indians look similar to Asiatic Mongoloids. Much recent evidence from genetics and anthropology has made that conclusion certain. A glance at a map shows that by far the easiest route from Asia to America is across the Bering Straits separating Siberia from Alaska. The last such land bridge existed (with a few brief interruptions) from about 25,000 to 10,000 years ago.

  However, colonization of the New World required more than a land bridge – there had to be people living at the Siberian end of the bridge. Because of its harsh climate the Siberian Arctic, too, was not colonized until late in human history (Chapter Two). Those colonists must have come from the cold temperate zones of Asia or Eastern Europe, as exemplified by stone-age hunters who lived in what is now the Ukraine and who built their houses out of neatly stacked bones of mammoths. By at least 20,000 years ago there were mammoth hunters in the Siberian Arctic as well, and by around 12,000 years ago stone tools similar to those of the Siberian hunters appear in Alaska’s archaeological record.

  After traversing Siberia and the Bering Straits, the ice-age hunters were still separated by one more barrier from their future hunting grounds in the US: a broad ice cap like that covering Greenland today, but stretching coast-to-coast across Canada. At intervals during the ice ages a narrow, ice-free, north/south corridor opened through this ice cap, just east of the Rocky Mountains. One such corridor closed around 20,000 years ago, but there had apparently as yet been no human in Alaska waiting to cross it. However, when the corridor next opened around 12,000 years ago, the hunters must have been ready, for their tell-tale stone tools appear soon thereafter not only at the south end of the corridor near Edmonton (Alberta) but also elsewhere south of the ice cap. At that point, hunters met America’s elephants and other great beasts, and the drama began.