His answer to both questions was population pressure. Our preferred foods decreased as our numbers
increased. In the good old days, the
preferred food for hunter-gatherers everywhere was large game. It took far less time to kill a six-ton wooly
mammoth than it took to kill six tons of rabbits, rats, or snails. As long as large game was available, we were
delighted to put the forks to them.
When large game became scarce, adventurous souls migrated
into uninhabited regions, in search of nourishing four-legged banquets. Because we were so clever with tool making,
we learned how to survive in almost any type of ecosystem, wet or dry, roasting
or frozen. Eventually, we ran out of
uninhabited regions, and large game became scarce everywhere. Before long, less-preferred foods began to
look like a delicious alternative to starvation.
When large game was our primary preferred food, the planet’s
carrying capacity was maybe 15 million people, Cohen estimated. He believed that the transition to
agriculture had three phases: (1) large game, (2) small game, aquatic
resources, more plant foods, and (3) domesticated foods. The archaeological record in most regions generally
supports this.
Climate change also played a role. As the ice ages passed, the weather warmed
up, and tundra ecosystems were replaced by forests. Large tundra critters became hungry homeless
ruffians, and many of them staggered toward the exit. Forest critters like aurochs, deer, and pigs
were not animals that lived in vast herds.
Hunting them required more effort.
By and by, we zipped past Peak Large Game.
Cohen found plenty of evidence that the trend throughout the
long human journey had been one of population growth, slow but fairly
steady. Some societies did a good job of
voluntarily limiting their numbers, and others didn’t. Some surely lived in balance for multiple
generations. Joseph Birdsell estimated
that during the Pleistocene, 15 to 50 percent of all live births were
eliminated via infanticide. Deliberate stability
was better than growth-driven starvation, but stability was a slippery
ideal. In an ever-changing world,
stability can only be temporary.
The notion of carrying capacity sets a firm limit on how many
deer an ecosystem can support. For
humans, carrying capacity limits were more flexible, because we could digest a
wide variety of plant and animal parts. When
rhinoceros steaks were no longer available, we began eating more plant foods, smaller
game, marine mammals, salmon, shellfish, birds, seeds, nuts, snails, reptiles,
insects, and so on. It was more work,
but it kept us fed, and our numbers slowly kept growing.
This transition from a Class A diet to a Class B diet
occurred in all societies, in various forms, and it increased the carrying
capacity for humans. You can guess what
happened next. We eventually thumped
against the ceiling once again, despite our new high-tech nets, bows and
arrows, traps, weirs, fishhooks, harpoons, and so on. What now?
Our options included die-off, bloody conflict, effective family planning,
and/or a Class C diet.
Fate tossed the dice, and a crap diet won. Agriculture was not a brilliant
discovery. A million years ago, everyone
knew what happened when seeds were planted.
Everyone knew that tending plants was laborious. In a world of abundant animal food, most
plant foods were held in low regard.
“People worldwide eat meat and various fruits when they can, and eat
cereals and tubers only when they must,” said Cohen. A cereal-based diet had many nutritional
drawbacks, and nothing was more excruciatingly dull than a diet that majors in
hot porridge.
We routinely fail to appreciate the elegant time-proven
culture of wild foragers. They ate a
wide variety of nutritious wild plants that evolution had fine-tuned to survive
the various quirks of the local ecosystem.
Because they weren’t dependent for survival on just two or three
domesticated plant foods, Bushmen could easily survive a three-year drought
that hammered nearby ranchers. Foragers
were healthier people, because wild foods were more nutritious, and the nomadic
lifestyle discouraged disease.
Farming was backbreaking work. It required tilling, planting, weeding, and
watering — months of effort invested before the payoff, if any. The threats of drought, deluge, frost,
insects, disease, fire, hail, and winds could zap a thriving crop at any
time. When the grain was ripe, there was
a window of opportunity for harvesting it, which sometimes only lasted a few
days. If you missed it, you were doomed. The stalks had to be cut and then
threshed. If the grains were not loose
enough, some roasting was needed.
Storage pits or granaries had to be built, and constantly
defended against assorted moochers and thugs.
Before storing it, the grain had to be parched to prevent germination,
and to discourage molds and fungi. Prior
to cooking, grain had to be pulverized by pounding or grinding. In the New World, living on maize required
even more work.
Population pressure propelled the spread of agriculture to
every suitable habitat. Small societies
of hunter-gatherers were helpless to oppose the growing onslaught of belligerent
mobs of porridge fiends and bread heads.
In recent times, we’ve discovered how to use soil to convert petroleum
into edible food-like substances. Today
we’ve munched our way deeply into the realm of Class D foods, loaded with
highly refined carbs, oceans of empty calories.
We’ve succeeded in temporarily stretching our carrying
capacity to 7 billion, but little stretch remains before the inevitable
snapback. Even ghastly Class D foods
will slam into firm limits — Peak Cheap Energy, Peak Fertilizer, cropland
destruction, desertification, and the certainty that industrial agriculture has
an expiration date. Somewhere down the
road, climate change is likely to eliminate most or all forms of farming. The unusually stable climate of the last
10,000 years is a freak.
Observing the human journey from Cohen’s mountaintop, we can
see above the fog of myths, and the big picture comes into better focus. Even the hunter-gatherer way of life, as it
occurred, was not sustainable over the long run. If we had remained in balance, agriculture
and civilization would have never happened.
Human efforts at voluntarily limiting population have not been 100
percent effective, and this failure has been amplified by our skills at
neutralizing the traditional man-eating predators that provided essential mob
control. A herd of seven billion is a
time bomb.
On a misty morning, a group of chimps sits at the edge of the
forest, gazing at us. They are our
closest relatives, and for millions of years they have not blundered into tool
addiction, domestication, or population explosions. Predators are always free to invite the less
alert to lunch. Wild chimps are still
healthy, happy, and sustainable. They
wonder how we became so lost and confused.
It’s never pleasant to watch old friends self-destruct from devastating
addictions. What happened? Was it necessary to trash the planet? Please!
Get a grip! We miss you! Come home!
Humankind is suffocating in toxic myths. Critical thinking is a powerful antidote, and
it’s a vast, barely explored continent.
In the coming decades, one way or another, the lights will be going out
on civilization, as we know it. In the
time remaining, it would be wise to bury as many of these myths as possible, so
that they will not poison the minds of future generations, if any. It’s time for learning, thinking, and
remembering. We have many dragons to
slay before we can recover our long-lost treasure, a reality-based
understanding of where we came from, and who we truly are. Our greatest need is for healthy new visions. It’s time to go home.
Cohen, Mark Nathan, The
Food Crisis in Prehistory — Overpopulation and the Origins of Agriculture,
Yale University Press, New Haven, 1977.
10 comments:
That is one of the most sensible explanations for our current predicament I have ever come across, thank you! I will have to read that book.
Thanks for another great post...most interesting. I see that you write a great deal on agriculture...you may be interested in this BBC documentary. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAuOqWpZ1lI
Ann, thank you! Consider yourself hugged! I shared it to Facebook with this comment:
Are you one of those folks who indulges in the popular hobby of eating food? I just watched a video about farming that brought tears to my eyes more than once. The cinematography is gorgeous, and, more importantly, the content is bullshit-free, and holds no punches. It's 48 minutes long, but my viewing fritzed out about half way through. I'm wary of having great faith in permaculture, and the notion of population reduction didn't appear before the video croaked. I'll be back to see the whole thing. This video is certainly close to the top of the most intelligent and important presentations I've seen on the internet. I strongly recommend it to all food hobbyists. Just GREAT!
Gail, you might also look at Cohen's book Health and the Rise of Civilization.
http://wildancestors.blogspot.com/2011/12/health-rise-of-civilization.html
Hi Rick,
do you think we will ever find out why our ancestors quit hunter and gathering? There are so many different responses to this question. most say climate change and the end of big mammals. Other say because humans moved to colder regions for hunting. That allowed to store food in caves. other say ...
What is your opinion?\
Georg
Georg,
Cohen did a thorough job of research, and his book is jammed with lots and lots of facts and details. I can’t argue with his conclusions. He says it was population pressure — they didn’t have enough food (i.e., too many mouths, too little foresight). Warming climate killed off many megafauna in what was formerly northern tundra. People kept developing new and improved hunting technology and strategies. Inadequate attention was paid to family planning, and to putting limits on hunting. Many hunting groups disappeared because other groups in the region took up farming. When farming arrives, the good old days are over.
Great description of the change from hunting megafauna to hunting and gathering microfauna and flora to cultivation. However, its easy to exaggerate how quickly and completely those transitions occurred. I suspect the evolution happened over long periods and there were continuing overlaps as megafauna disappeared at different rates in different locations, and even to this day some hunting (e.g. fishing) and gathering continues with our agricultural society.
Is it true that our planet cannot support 7 billion? We (Americans) throw away 1/3 of our food and even in India, where under-nutrition is endemic, 1/3 of the food is lost by poor storage and spoilage. That's not to say there are not limits, but have we really already over-shot the earth's food carrying capacity. Is a crash inevitable?
Anonymous, I don’t think that the transition was rapid. After we departed from Africa, we gradually spread everywhere, hunting along the way, often confronting large animals that had no fear of us. They had not coevolved with humans, so they did not perceive us to be a threat. As we migrated through different types of ecosystems, we developed hunting technology suitable for optimizing the kill. Our arsenal gradually grew in sophistication. Once we reached the end of land uninhabited by our species, we were forced to adapt to new restrictions.
Tom, I'll respond to your comment via the forum in our course. I want to give you some links, and it's much easier to post hyperlinks on the forum. On Blogger, I'd have to write HTML text.
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