Is 'Collapse: How Societies Choose To Fail Or Succeed' Relevant To Climate Change Today?

Reading 'Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed' feels like staring into a mirror reflecting our current climate crisis. Jared Diamond meticulously dissects how past civilizations crumbled due to environmental mismanagement—deforestation, soil erosion, water scarcity. Today, we’re repeating those mistakes at a global scale. The book’s analysis of Easter Island’s ecological suicide parallels modern deforestation in the Amazon. Diamond’s warning about societal blind spots resonates deeply when I see policymakers ignore climate tipping points. His case studies aren’t just history lessons; they’re blueprints showing how resource depletion and climate denial lead to collapse. What makes it particularly chilling is how today’s interconnected global economy could amplify these failures exponentially.

As someone who’s obsessed with patterns in human behavior, I find 'Collapse' terrifyingly prescient about climate change. Diamond doesn’t just list environmental failures; he reveals the social mechanisms that enable collapse—elites insulating themselves from consequences, short-term thinking overriding survival instincts. The Greenland Norse chapter hits hardest for me: they starved while refusing to eat fish because of cultural taboos, mirroring how modern societies reject viable solutions like nuclear energy due to ideological rigidity.

The book’s framework applies perfectly to today’s climate inertia. Diamond identifies five factors for collapse: environmental damage, climate change, hostile neighbors, lost trade partners, and societal responses. We’re now facing all five simultaneously—extreme weather events replacing hostile neighbors, supply chain disruptions acting like lost trade routes. His examples of successful societies (Japan’s Edo period forestry management) offer hope, but only if we act decisively.

What’s often overlooked is Diamond’s emphasis on choice. The Mayans didn’t 'just' collapse; they made catastrophic decisions during droughts by prioritizing warfare over water management. Similarly, today’s focus on economic growth over carbon reduction could be our version of those fatal choices. The book’s relevance lies in its brutal clarity: collapse isn’t inevitable, but requires breaking patterns of denial.

If you think climate change debates are just about science, 'Collapse' will rearrange your brain. Diamond shows how environmental failures are ultimately human stories—about leadership, values, and collective delusion. The Rwandan genocide chapter, often skipped in climate discussions, proves how population pressure and land scarcity can ignite violence—a dire warning for our warming world.

Modern readers might dismiss the book as outdated, but its core thesis is more urgent than ever. When Diamond describes how the Anasazi abandoned Chaco Canyon after deforesting their surroundings, I see parallels to cities like Phoenix overdrawing groundwater. The difference now is scale; their collapse was local, ours could be civilizational.

What fascinates me is the book’s treatment of resilience. Societies that survived climate shifts (like the Inuit adapting to Little Ice Age) did so by radically changing lifestyles. Today’s equivalents—degrowth movements, regenerative agriculture—face fierce resistance. Diamond’s work suggests our biggest threat isn’t rising temperatures, but inflexibility in responding to them.