Taboos and Myths - A Crash Course on Collapse

Last week, the Sustainability Accelerator launched a new research cycle, The Rift. Comprised of three interconnected research strands – Collapse, Uncertainty and Renewal – the cycle explores challenges and opportunities arising from our shifting climate reality.

In this article we turn our focus to the first research strand: Collapse.

Discussions of collapse are occurring with increasing frequency, but it remains a difficult issue for many to grapple with. Maybe you have been avoiding conversations around collapse? Or not had the time to delve into the detail and read the small print? Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. Drawing on a range of sources, from academic literature to poetry and prose, here's a five-point crash course to clue you up on collapse and dispel some common misconceptions.

Let’s jump straight in…

Collapse means the irreversible decline of a structure or system. But when we talk about collapse, that doesn’t have to mean the destruction of a everything, all at once. Instead, we're thinking about the potential collapses within multiple, interconnected, co-dependent organising systems.

Our civilisation is built on a range of complex systems, from the ecological and environmental, to the financial, commercial, political and cultural. These systems do not exist in isolation of one another, and they each interact in diverse ways.

Whilst the disruption of one system exerts impacts on others, the nature of these impacts is varied; detrimental changes in one system might lead to straightforward and predictable outcomes on another, but there can also be surprising and non-linear impacts too. In this sense collapse is more complex, diverse and messy than many assume.

We know that environmental and ecological collapse will yield detrimental effects on human and social systems. Drought drove the food shortages which contributed to societal breakdown in Syria in the 2000s. And right now, growing evidence demonstrates how climate shocks are undermining the efficacy of the insurance sector, which could well lead to the full scale collapse of international financial markets.

Whilst environmental disruption is often a precursor to the damaging of other systems, the collapse of other structures may have different impacts; some have posited how the destruction of existing economic systems could lead to the restoration of environments and ecologies. The varied outcomes and pathways linked to the sequencing of which systems collapse and when is an underexplored aspect in research we will be addressing in this cycle.

So, collapse, is not linear or monolithic, but diverse, varied and undetermined. Acknowledging this is important - since it helps conversations move beyond catch-all descriptions of collapse, to instead evaluate and explore the nuanced and varied interactions between multiple, co-existing systems.

Civilizational collapse is often represented as a singular moment or event in which everything changes irreversibly, all at once. Armageddon arrives the night after normality, with no preceding decline or warning signs.

From 28 Days Later to The Day After Tomorrow, the apocalyptic depictions which guide widespread understandings of the issue misrepresent the less dramatic, pervasive and attritional aspects of collapse. Mayan civilization, for example, took three hundred years to fall. Generally, collapse is determined by a complex range of conditions, which do not emerge suddenly. Civilizational collapse consists of the slow destruction of a range of systems, so is better viewed as a cross generational process rather than an overnight event.

Research into the collapse of past civilisations shows that history may be repeating itself in the present. Many of the early symptoms of collapse from past civilisations - from rising rates of inequality, to climatic change and increased complexity of social systems – are already here.

When we acknowledge this, and understand that collapse is not a one-off moment, we can avoid treating collapse as an abstract, faraway event. Instead, we can begin to engage with a process that may well be currently unfolding - enabling us to accurately examine our present and make better plans for the future.

As considerations of collapse are becoming more mainstream, we see growing debate around the issue.

Within the literature, many key ideas and assumptions are still contested. Definitions are debated, and there remains disagreement around the severity of our current predicament, the expected timeline of future events, and interpretations of empirical data.

There are the ‘doomsters’ who posit that societal collapse is underway and inevitable, and that our present focus should revolve around how we navigate inevitable civilizational decay. Objections to doomsters vary – some critique the science or theoretical underpinnings on which their position is founded, others argue that their approach is fatalistic and conducive to ‘overwhelm paralysis’. Other researches are focused on modelling and mapping the exact point at which we can say collapse has happened, or working out how to extend the lifespan of existing paradigms amidst environmental and social change.

Whilst these debates undoubtedly serve to advance the depth of our understanding of collapse and draw more attention to the issue, it is important to remember that these conversations often begin from the same theoretical starting point: that significant and damaging shifts in environmental and social systems is highly probable in the years to come.

Investing time, energy and resources into both continuing debates around the specifics of collapse, as well as adapting and preparing more broadly for impending change is an important task.

When the word collapse is used, the connotations aren’t usually positive. Irrevocable change is scary, and there are forms of collapse which would absolutely be ruinously bad for society (AMOC collapse, for example). We also know any kind of breakdown will disproportionately impact vulnerable groups and regions. But, given that collapse is diverse and varied, and involves the decline of the many structures which underpin our current system, some aspects of collapse may offer both destructive and creative potential.

At our recent launch event for The Rift, we invited participants to sign a book of condolences, where they were invited to say goodbye to the thing(s) they would miss the least if the collapse of our current systems happened. From lies, to garbage dumps, and the burning of fossil fuels, signatories of the book felt that the collapse of our current systems could have some backhanded positive impacts.

Collapse brings with it the possibility for positive renewal, and can offer the opportunity for a clean break from harmful, entrenched practices, structures and behaviours; when an old tree falls, something better may grow in its place - an idea captured by the Berkana Institute’s two loop model and dialogues around 'Hospicing Modernity'.

Whilst the negative implications of collapse must be considered so as to allow us to navigate them, this can also be balanced by consideration of the potentialities for transformative change which can grow out of this dynamic.

Talking about – and coming to terms with - collapse is tough. Psychologists have increasingly investigated the effects of collapse discourse on our collective psyche, and the results show that existential dread and fear over our collective future is on the rise. Strong emotions, however, are often a prerequisite for transformative actions.

Eco-anxiety is real: 74% of people living in Britain are worried about environmental change, and 75% of young people believe ‘the future is frightening’. Meanwhile new concepts, like solastalgia, have emerged which aim to articulate the difficult emotions which environmental loss and social change conjure. This isn't just about individuals, its about our collective decision-making, too. Institutional settings and decision-making processes are often designed to suppress or avoid emotional responses, hampering our ability to engage with collapse productively.

Within personal life and institutional settings, emotions around collapse should be engaged with, however. They are signs that society cares, and offer signs and pathways that society believes an alternative reality to be a possibility. In this context, finding or creating collaborative and open spaces, engaging in candid conversations, and looking after ourselves becomes increasingly important as we attempt to better understand collapse and channel strong emotions into positive responses.

As Geneen Marie Haugen puts it:

‘If stress is a necessary prelude to individual or collective change, it is noteworthy that so many people feel disoriented, anxious, or troubled, some to the point of outrage, many to despair. Would we be so disturbed if we could not imagine alternatives to our moment?’

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So, there you have it, five key points which hopefully allow you to understand and navigate the idea of collapse in ways that do not have to be wholly negative; and might even offer potential for renewed forms of social organisation and interaction.

Collapse is one strand of a broader enquiry: The Rift. To learn more about our new research cycle, click here.