#35 Collapsology

...and other stupid things

It’s unbearable—at least for me. In a world that should be focused on securing the future of humanity (and countless other species), we’ve lost ourselves in turbocapitalism, real wars, trade wars, and the desperate effort to salvage past progress rather than create something better. Instead of moving forward, we’re witnessing a return—perhaps a reversion—to illiberal democracies and autocratic power, the inevitable consequences of unchecked free markets. Some mornings, reading the news over coffee feels like an exercise in heartbreak.

I’ve been unwell for a few weeks—one week genuinely sick, the next simply exhausted—which led to a longer newsletter pause than I intended. But I’m back and I’ll make it up to you with this.

I don’t know if it was me being ill or the news, but this writing turns out to be pretty pessimistic about the mechanisms of the collapse of civilisations. While some of my previous blogs were on the upside of tipping points (like this one), in the same spirit, we can expect negative social tipping points (as I was also explaining here on the dynamics of tipping points). If the countermovement becomes more substantial, you can also expect that a minority can flip the situation into a less favourable state. The Pareto effect of tipping points, the fact that 80% of the results of anything come from 20% of the action, seems to be valid, according to new research.

But let’s not mistake pessimism for the absence of hope. Without hope, there would be no reason to plan, no point in critique or analysis. So bear with me—every attempt to examine collapse, even through a pessimistic lens, is inherently more hopeful than refusing to engage with the human predicament.

And there are (at least!) two reasons to be worried about collapse: Trump’s accelerationism and the current collapse of ecosystems.

I long believed that Trump’s utterly irrational economic policies were primarily a negotiation tactic—threatening tariffs rather than sabotaging the global trade system. But I have come to a different conclusion. No matter how reckless it seems, he does it.

I also thought that the threat of economic decline would steer him in a different direction. After all, during his first term, he was susceptible to stock prices, corporate profits, and job reports. But that no longer seems to be the case. On the contrary, he is already preparing his base for even worse times. That is also the message sent out more evident by the Trump administration: there will be ‘a period of transition’ is the new mantra. Even if many economists say it might be a stupid idea, the Trump administration continues. And so, only one conclusion remains. What Trump is doing fits perfectly into the strategy of far-right accelerationism—the idea that a rapidly escalating crisis and chaos will ultimately lead to the collapse of the system. This is not just an attack on liberal democracy but also on the economic order. Deregulation, polarization, and institutional disruption are not byproducts of his policies—they are the policies—an agenda of Chaos (see more on this agenda and what to do about it below).

A column from George Monbiot summarises the bridge to the second point (ecosystem collapse):

In thinking about the war being waged against life on Earth by Donald Trump, Elon Musk and their minions, I keep bumping into a horrible suspicion. Could it be that this is not just about delivering the world to oligarchs and corporations – not just about wringing as much profit from living systems as they can? Could it be that they want to see the destruction of the habitable planet?

This is quite an extreme viewpoint. But it's not so unlikely if you think about it. However, you might have heard relatively little in the news about that lately, as all newspapers are by Trumpism, wars and other chaos. But ecosystem destruction accelerates while sustainability policies retreat. It seems to me a toxic combination.

On ecosystem collapse, according to the UN, humanity’s relationship with Nature is at a tipping point (tipping points everywhere!). The WMO reports spiralling weather and climate impacts. Carbon dioxide levels are currently the highest in 800,000 years. The last decade saw each year rank among the warmest on record globally. Ocean heat content has hit new highs for eight consecutive years. The 18 smallest Arctic sea-ice extents all occurred in the past 18 years. Antarctic ice extents reached their lowest in the last three years. Glacier mass loss over the past three years was unprecedented—all reasons to get a little nervous.

Source: WMO, 2025

However, in the meantime, much legislation has been rolled back in the US, making higher emissions more likely. In addition, the US has stepped out of the Paris Agreements and ended all kinds of international commitments, ending international solidarity.

These tendencies are not confined to the US. Under the misleading notion of 'competitiveness,’ the European Commission has either reversed or intends to reverse numerous sustainability laws. This is called the Omnibus (and don’t let your thoughts drift away when thinking about a school bus. This is about a collection of complex legislation). Complex sustainability regulations (where complexity is created by lobbyists opposing the legislation) and vested interests have relegated sustainability to the lowest priority on the policy agenda if acknowledged.

So, from this, there is only one consequence: collapse is more likely.

My question for now is: What can we learn from the history of civilisation collapse? Luckily, there is much research on that topic. I will give a summary here; you can find the rest below.

What can we learn from collapse?

Societal collapse is rarely a single catastrophic event but a drawn-out process in which interconnected systems unravel. Historian Peter Turchin and colleagues have identified patterns in cultural macroevolution in which abrupt shifts punctuate long periods of stability—sometimes progress, sometimes decline (Turchin & Gavrilets, 2021). Technological, economic, and social changes often drove the transitions from small chiefdoms to complex states and empires. However, these changes also carried seeds of instability: inequality, resource depletion, and unsustainable expansion.

A paper from Chase-Dunn et al. (2010), with some nice figures (that is why I cite them here) examines the historical patterns of the rise and fall of polities, including states and empires, over the past 12,000 years. It highlights how political entities have oscillated in size and complexity, with occasional "upward sweeps" where a new, significantly larger polity emerges. These sweeps set ceilings of new sizes, limiting further growth until new conditions arise. The study integrates city and empire-size data to analyze long-term trends and theorizes about the future trajectory of political organization, including the potential emergence of a world state.

The figure below provides a stylized depiction of the rise and fall of large polities, illustrating general trends rather than specific historical events. It demonstrates how many smaller polities (bands, tribes, and chiefdoms) have gradually consolidated into fewer but larger political entities, including states and empires. The figure supports the idea of size ceilings, where polities grow and decline cyclically, but occasionally, one expands significantly beyond previous limits, setting a new benchmark for future expansions.

Source: Chase-Dunn et al. 2010

The question remains: Will we learn from history, or are we doomed to repeat its cycles? Other research (see below for more references and explanation) gives more insights. The conclusion is that the chances are that we are in a pre-collapse phase. Rising inequality, elite competition, and governance failures in the West mirror past pre-collapse conditions. Environmental degradation and resource depletion, seen in historical collapses, manifest as climate change and biodiversity loss. Geopolitical tensions, echoing past triggers of significant wars, heighten the risk of systemic breakdown. The difference with past civilisation (and I don’t want to spread more doom and gloom) is that we are currently discussing a global civilisation. George Monbiot might be right…

What to do then? To start, we need to stand up. Try to resist breakdown. Strengthening local social networks and fostering participatory democracy to build community resilience. In addition, citizen-led initiatives, cooperatives, steward-owned businesses, and stronger international collaboration between grassroots movements, companies, and other initiatives can play a crucial role.

If that does not work, we should find the best way to shelter against collapse. Luckily, research shows the safest places: New Zealand tops the list, and Iceland is also a good candidate (see below). 

Hopefully, Trump has not read this paper, otherwise these will be the following annexation targets.

The Agenda of Chaos

The greatest mistake that Europe—or anyone—can make right now is assuming that Trump will behave like a typical politician. As said before, the agenda of right-wing accelerationism, as also can be found in the project2025-agenda and also in the techno-fascist agenda Musk seems to hold, executed by the “broccoli-haired Gen Z brownshirts,” fighting enemy institutions as a sort of Tesla Jugend as coined by Cory Doctorow.

Here, tech billionaires, nationalists, and Christian fundamentalists find themselves in an unholy alliance. The tech autocrats dream of a world without regulations, where they are the undisputed rulers. The nationalists yearn for a retro-economy in which American industry flourishes as it did fifty years ago. The Christian fundamentalists seek a society in which no law contradicts their biblical beliefs.

They share one common goal: to destroy everything built over the past decades. Not to improve or reform it but to tear it down. The greater the chaos, the less resistance remains. And the less resistance there is, the easier it becomes to realize their utopias.

Look at the economic agenda. It is as simple as it is destructive. When a crisis erupts, more businesses collapse, people are pushed into survival mode, and the government becomes even poorer. A poor government has no means to prevent the dismantling of the system. It really can be that simple.

I know—it sounds like a nightmare. But it could very well happen. The U.S. has experience with predatory capitalism. This is the country where, until the early 20th century, the rawest form of capitalism reigned: children died in factories, labour unions were violently suppressed, corporate leaders bought presidents like they were stocks, and the rich became unimaginably wealthy. As far as I know, children are no longer dying in factories. Still, in every other way, we are rapidly heading toward a modern version of this recent past—a country where the market is sacred, and people are merely an afterthought.

Of course, there is a chance that the Trump coalition will implod

e. Tech billionaires, religious fanatics, and economic nationalists have fundamentally different interests. But don’t count on it. The incentive to continue down this path is far too strong.

America has no time to lose. Waiting for elections is not an option. American democracy does not only exist on election days—it lives and dies by the willingness of citizens to defend it every single day. As seen last weekend in Belgrade, mass mobilization, taking to the streets and not waiting but taking action. Protest, organization, collective struggle—this is the only force capable of countering the agenda of chaos.

And Europe? We must not simply endure Trump; we must counterbalance him. That means no more strategic silence, no more hoping for the best, no more appeasement out of fear. Europe must develop into an economic and political counterweight—a functioning alternative.

This requires three things: first, economic autonomy—less dependence on the U.S. in defence, energy, and technology. Second, strengthening the democratic rule of law both within and beyond the EU—no deals with autocrats who undermine our values. Third, social and economic policies that offer people real prospects so that authoritarian ideologies find no fertile ground in Europe itself.

Destroying an economic system can happen quickly. Rebuilding it takes decades.

Let’s not wait until everything lies in ruins.

The Patterns of Collapse

Societal collapse is rarely a single catastrophic event but a drawn-out process in which interconnected systems unravel. Historian Peter Turchin and colleagues have identified patterns in cultural macroevolution in which abrupt shifts punctuate long periods of stability—sometimes progress, sometimes decline (Turchin & Gavrilets, 2021). Technological, economic, and social changes often drove the transitions from small chiefdoms to complex states and empires. However, these changes also carried seeds of instability: inequality, resource depletion, and unsustainable expansion.

One common factor in collapses is the breakdown of governance and economic structures. The Roman Empire, for example, collapsed due to a combination of overexpansion, financial mismanagement, and external threats. More recently, the Soviet Union’s dissolution followed a similar trajectory—internal stagnation combined with geopolitical overreach and economic decay. The pattern is clear: societies that fail to adapt to internal contradictions and external pressures eventually crumble.

A recent study analyzing thousands of years of historical data in the Seshat: Global History Databank supports this view. It identifies war, economic productivity, and social complexity as key drivers of state formation and potential sources of fragility once states become too large and rigid (Turchin et al., 2022).

War plays a unique role in societal collapse. The role of war in societal collapse is complex. On one hand, war has historically driven the expansion and centralization of states. The concept that “war made the state, and the state made war,” as historian Charles Tilly put it, is supported by extensive historical data (Turchin et al., 2022). Military innovations—such as the spread of cavalry, the development of iron weaponry, and later, gunpowder—reshaped political and economic landscapes, often creating stronger states.

However, war can also hasten collapse when a society’s resources are limited. The Gunboat Revolution of the 15th century, which allowed European powers to project power worldwide, led to imperial overstretch and economic dependencies that ultimately backfired (Turchin & Gavrilets, 2021). Similarly, while initially expanding the largest contiguous empire in history, the Mongol conquests also led to mass destruction, economic disruption, and, eventually, fragmentation.

The impact of war on societal evolution depends on the broader context. External threats often accelerate political centralization and technological progress in the early stages of state formation. However, in later stages, when empires or large states reach their peak, prolonged conflicts tend to weaken rather than strengthen them.

Are We in a Pre-Collapse Phase?

Several warning signs today echo the factors that contributed to past collapses:

• Economic Inequality and Political Dysfunction: Historically, rising inequality and elite overproduction (too many elites competing for limited power) have led to instability and civil conflict (Turchin, 2023). The U.S. and other Western nations are experiencing growing wealth gaps, political polarization, and governance failures, echoing the pre-collapse conditions of past societies.

• Environmental Stress and Resource Depletion: Many past collapses were linked to ecological overshoot, from the deforestation-driven decline of Easter Island to the soil depletion that contributed to the fall of the Maya (Turchin et al., 2022). Climate change, biodiversity loss, and unsustainable consumption patterns pose similar existential threats today.

• Geopolitical Conflicts: The current global tensions—between the U.S. and China, NATO and Russia, and ongoing regional conflicts—mirror the conditions that have historically led to major wars. If history is a guide, prolonged military confrontations and economic and political fragility increase the risk of systemic breakdown.

Possible Futures

As I said before, we need hope. And, to take it to the max, collapse can be a new beginning:

1. Renewal Through Adaptation: Some societies have avoided collapse by radically reforming their structures. Japan, for example, transitioned from feudalism to an industrial powerhouse through the Meiji Restoration. Can modern states enact necessary reforms in time?

2. Prolonged Decline: Some societies do not collapse abruptly but rather experience a slow decline, as in the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire, which endured for centuries after the fall of the Western Roman Empire. A similar future could unfold in the West: gradual economic stagnation, political fragmentation, and declining global influence.

3. Sudden Collapse: History also warns of rapid collapses when multiple crises converge. The Bronze Age Collapse around 1200 BCE saw multiple civilizations fall within decades, driven by economic crises, climate shifts, and war (Turchin et al., 2021). With its complex interdependencies, the modern world could be equally vulnerable to cascading failures.

While history does not repeat itself exactly, its patterns offer crucial lessons. Societies that adapt to changing conditions, manage inequality, and avoid overextending themselves have the best chance of surviving. War remains a double-edged sword—capable of forging stronger societies and accelerating their demise. As we navigate the turbulent 21st century, understanding these dynamics will be essential for steering toward a sustainable and resilient future.

Where to go and what to do?

But suppose collapse will happen. Where should we go then? Luckily, this is also investigated. In a 2021 paper (with the quite complex title “An Analysis of the Potential for the Formation of ‘Nodes of Persisting Complexity’”), the authors analyse the potential for specific geographical locations to remain habitable and retain complexity (in the idea that human life-supporting systems survive) in the event of a societal collapse, referred to as "nodes of persisting complexity." The authors identify a shortlist of countries—New Zealand, Iceland, the United Kingdom, Australia, and Ireland—based on their ability to sustain their populations independently, their geographic isolation, and their access to resources like food and energy.

According to the analysis, New Zealand is the best location for survival during a global societal collapse. The main reasons are:

• Geographic Isolation: As a remote island nation in the South Pacific, it is less vulnerable to mass migrations and geopolitical conflicts.

• Agricultural Self-Sufficiency: Its population is low relative to its agrarian capacity, meaning it could sustain itself without relying on large-scale food imports.

• Renewable Energy: New Zealand has abundant geothermal and hydroelectric power, ensuring a stable energy supply even if global fossil fuel systems collapse.

• Moderate Climate: The country’s temperate, oceanic climate provides stability and reduces the risks associated with extreme weather events and agricultural failures.

Other strong contenders include Iceland, due to its renewable energy from geothermal and hydropower, and Tasmania (Australia), which is geographically separated from the Australian mainland and has a favourable climate. The United Kingdom and Ireland have good resources but face higher risks due to their larger populations and geopolitical connections.

If global civilisation were to collapse, remote, self-sufficient island nations with substantial renewable energy resources and agricultural independence would be the safest places to go. I have the idea that many billionaires have read this paper.

Take care.

And have hope!

Hans