Disclaimer: “Looking at the stories of ancient civilizations, agriculture, and the digital age, I hope to shed light on the recurring patterns that shape the course of human progress. The Tragedy of the Commons is a tale of human nature, our nihilistic relationship with the long-term, our relentless pursuit of immediate gratification, and the fear of being left behind in systems that thrive on short-term exploitation. It is a story of how we often succumb to the pressures of powerful lobbies that propagate this predatory mindset, refusing to challenge the status quo even as it leads us toward ‘commons’ ruin.”
Throughout history, the concept of the “Tragedy of the Commons” has played out in various civilizations and industries, from the collapse of ancient empires to the depletion of natural resources. This idea, first articulated by British economist William Forster Lloyd in the 19th century and later popularized by ecologist Garrett Hardin, describes how individuals acting in their self-interest can ultimately destroy shared resources, leading to collective ruin. As we explore the rise and fall of the Khmer Empire, the Minoan Civilization, the inhabitants of Easter Island, and the Newfoundland fishing industry, a pattern emerges: the perception of abundance and the lack of regulation leads to overexploitation.
In the digital age, we face a similar challenge. The rapid growth of technology and the seemingly limitless potential of data have created a new kind of commons, one that is vulnerable to the same forces that brought down ancient civilizations and once-thriving industries.
The lessons of history are clear: when individuals and organizations prioritize their interests over the health of the shared resources they depend on, tragedy inevitably follows. From the disappearance of Easter Island’s once-lush forests to the collapse of the Newfoundland cod fishery, the consequences of unchecked exploitation are dire and far-reaching.
Collapse of the Minoan Civilization
The Minoan civilization, which thrived on the island of Crete from approximately 3000 to 1100 B.C.E., is a fascinating example of how environmental mismanagement can lead to the collapse of a once-prosperous society. The Minoans, known for their impressive palace complexes, vibrant art, and advanced trade networks, ultimately fell victim to their own short-sighted practices, particularly deforestation. This is a classic example of the tragedy of the commons, where individuals acting in their own self-interest ultimately deplete a shared resource, leading to the collapse of the entire system.
Archaeological evidence reveals that the Minoans engaged in extensive deforestation during the later stages of their civilization. As a seafaring people, they required vast quantities of wood for shipbuilding and other economic activities. The palace of Knossos, one of the largest Minoan settlements, boasted an estimated 100,000 trees in its construction alone. The demand for timber led to widespread clearing of forests, which had disastrous consequences for the island’s ecosystem. Each individual or group likely prioritized their own need for wood, failing to consider the cumulative impact of their actions on the shared resource of the island’s forests.
The loss of trees resulted in severe soil erosion, as the roots that once held the earth together were no longer present. This, in turn, led to increased flash flooding, as there was no natural barrier to slow the flow of water during heavy rains. The combination of erosion and flooding likely damaged agricultural lands, reducing crop yields and straining the food supply. This is a clear example of how the depletion of a shared resource can have far-reaching and unintended consequences for the entire community.
Despite the warning signs of environmental degradation, the Minoans continued their unsustainable practices. The short-term benefits of timber extraction and the maintenance of a thriving shipbuilding industry outweighed the long-term risks in the minds of Minoan leaders. This shortsightedness and prioritization of immediate gains over long-term sustainability is a hallmark of the tragedy of the commons.
See anything familiar to modern tech companies?
The Minoans’ failure to adapt to changing environmental conditions and their reliance on unsustainable practices ultimately contributed to their downfall. By 1450 B.C.E., many of the grand palaces lay in ruins, and the once-thriving civilization began to decline. The final blow came in the form of the massive Thera volcanic eruption around 1600 B.C.E., which caused tsunamis and ash fallout that further destabilized the weakened Minoan society. The tragedy of the commons had left the Minoans vulnerable to external shocks, as they had depleted the very resources that could have helped them withstand such challenges.
Collapse of Easter Island
Easter Island, one of the world’s most remote inhabited islands, was once home to a thriving civilization known for its remarkable stone statues called moai. However, by the time European explorers arrived in the 18th century, the island’s population had dwindled, and the once-lush landscape was largely deforested. The collapse of Easter Island’s civilization is a prime example of the tragedy of the commons, where the unsustainable use of a shared resource led to its depletion and the downfall of the entire society.
The Rapanui people, who settled on Easter Island around 900 CE, developed a complex society that relied heavily on the island’s abundant natural resources. The dense palm forests provided wood for construction, fuel, and the transportation of the massive moai statues. As the population grew, reaching an estimated peak of 15,000 inhabitants, the demand for resources intensified. Each clan or family likely sought to maximize their own use of the island’s trees, without considering the overall impact on the shared resource.
Between 900 CE and 1722, when Dutch explorer Jacob Roggeveen first visited the island, the Rapanui had cut down nearly every tree on the island. The deforestation was likely driven by the need for agricultural land, firewood, and timber for the construction of boats and the transport of the moai. The loss of trees had devastating consequences for the island’s ecosystem, leading to soil erosion, decreased crop yields, and the extinction of native plant and animal species. This is a clear illustration of how the pursuit of individual interests can lead to the destruction of a shared resource and the collapse of an entire ecosystem.
The rapid deforestation also had significant cultural implications. The Rapanui relied on the palm trees to transport the moai to their designated locations across the island. As the trees disappeared, the statue-building culture collapsed, and the moai were left abandoned in quarries or along transportation routes. This cultural shift likely contributed to social unrest and conflict among the Rapanui, as the shared resource that had once united them was now depleted.
By the time Roggeveen arrived in 1722, the island’s population had declined significantly, and the once-thriving civilization was in a state of crisis. The Rapanui had become isolated, with no means to build boats for fishing or to escape the island. The lack of resources led to intense competition and, according to some theories, even cannibalism. The tragedy of the commons had left the Rapanui in a desperate situation, as they had exhausted the very resources that had once sustained their society.
In the modern era, the lessons of Easter Island resonate with the challenges we face in managing our global resources. The consequences of our actions, like those on Easter Island, may not be immediately apparent, but they can have far-reaching and irreversible impacts on our planet’s delicate balance.
The Decline of the Khmer Empire
The Khmer Empire was a mighty civilization that dominated Southeast Asia from the 9th to the 15th century. At its peak, the Khmer Empire was known for its impressive capital city, Angkor, which boasted a complex system of reservoirs, canals, and hydraulic engineering marvels that supported a vast population and enabled extensive rice cultivation.
However, the very infrastructure that had allowed the Khmer Empire to flourish would eventually contribute to its downfall. The empire relied heavily on an intricate network of water management systems, including the famous barays (artificial reservoirs) and canals, to support its agricultural productivity. These systems required constant maintenance and careful management to function effectively, a responsibility that fell on the shoulders of the ruling elite and the local communities.
Over time, the Khmer Empire’s rapid expansion and growing population put increasing pressure on its natural resources. Deforestation, driven by the need for agricultural land and construction materials, led to soil erosion and reduced the land’s capacity to retain water. This environmental degradation gradually undermined the empire’s ability to maintain its complex hydraulic systems, leading to reduced agricultural yields and growing social unrest.
As individual farmers and communities sought to maximize their own agricultural output, they inadvertently contributed to the overexploitation of shared resources, such as water and land.
To make matters worse, the Khmer Empire faced a series of prolonged droughts in the 14th and 15th centuries, which further strained its already weakened water management systems. The combination of environmental degradation, climate change, and the inability to maintain the hydraulic infrastructure led to widespread water shortages and crop failures, undermining the empire’s food security and social stability.
As the Khmer Empire’s agricultural productivity declined, so did its political and economic power. The once-thriving city of Angkor, a symbol of the empire’s wealth and sophistication, was gradually abandoned as the population sought more stable sources of food and water. By the mid-15th century, the Khmer Empire had fragmented into smaller kingdoms, and its once-impressive capital lay in ruins.
The Newfoundland Cod Fishery Crisis
The Grand Banks of Newfoundland were once among the world’s richest fishing grounds, with cod being the backbone of Newfoundland’s economy for centuries. The abundance of cod led to a “commons” mentality where everyone sought to maximize their catch. In the 1950s and 1960s, technological advancements like factory trawlers and sonar dramatically increased the efficiency of cod harvesting, leading to severe overfishing by companies such as Fishery Products International (FPI) and National Sea Products.
By the 1970s, the cod population was in steep decline. Despite warnings from scientists like Dr. Leslie Harris, who chaired the Northern Cod Science Program, the Canadian government, influenced by intense lobbying from the fishing industry and local communities, continued to allow high fishing quotas. Key political figures, such as John Crosbie, the federal Minister of Fisheries and Oceans, faced pressure from industry stakeholders, exacerbating the problem and pushing the cod population to the brink of collapse.
The cod fishing industry’s lobbying efforts were driven by short-term greed and a desire to maximize immediate profits. Major companies and influential industry groups argued that reducing quotas would devastate local economies and lead to job losses.
The issue with the tech sector is that, unlike fishing, which is easily understood by older generations, data mining is a complex concept that many politicians struggle to grasp. The average age of U.S. Congress members is around 58 years, and they often fail to ask the right questions or understand the implications of data mining practices by companies like Meta, TikTok, and Google. For example, during the 2018 Facebook-Cambridge Analytica scandal hearings, many lawmakers struggled to understand basic concepts of data privacy and digital advertising, highlighting a significant knowledge gap.
“How do I eat fish?”
“How do fishing boats work?”
“What is a cod?”
“Why is all fish so slippery?”
These questions appear as ridiculous as how questions about ads sound to more technologically savvy generations.
The collapse of the Newfoundland cod fishery was both gradual and sudden. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, scientists and environmentalists issued warnings about the declining cod stocks, but these were largely ignored. The realization of the crisis and the subsequent moratorium in 1992 was abrupt, leading to the immediate loss of over 30,000 jobs and devastating communities that relied on the fishery for generations.
Similarly, the technology and data mining sectors might face a comparable issue. However, because data doesn’t die or run out like fish, its final resolution will be much different from the natural disasters we are used to. The overexploitation of data can lead to a degradation of trust and privacy, with long-term consequences that are harder to reverse. Unlike fish stocks, which can potentially recover over time with proper management, data remains in cyberspace indefinitely, posing ongoing risks.
Twenty years later, the Newfoundland cod fishery has not fully recovered, and the industry remains a shadow of its former self. The collapse has led to a diversification of the local economy, with a greater focus on other species like crab and shrimp, as well as non-fishing industries. However, the legacy of the collapse is still felt in the region, with many communities continuing to struggle with the economic and social impacts of the disaster.
No fish suffered in the writing of this article.
But a couple of empires collapsed.
And even more digital empires will eventually collapse.
