In 1177BC, Amurapi, the last king of Ugarit in modern-day Syria, wrote in cuneiform on baked clay to the Hittite emperor Suppiluliuma II: “My father behold, the enemy’s ships have come; my cities were burned, and they did evil things in my country.” Soon, both the Hittite and Ugaritic kingdoms were lost to history.
More than 2,000 years later, in AD822, an artisan was carving Altar L, a monument of succession as Yax Pasaj Chan Yopaat passed the rulership of the Maya kingdom of Copan in modern Honduras to Ukit Took. At some point, he dropped his chisel and left his work of political art unfinished.
Within the next eight years, the institutions of government in Copan had dissolved. And by the 10th century the last few squatters had abandoned the ghost city, with its palaces and temples swallowed by the forest.
Jumping forward to 1521, Cuauhtemōc, the last Aztec emperor, sent a desperate emissary to the Tarascan empire to the west, an archenemy of the Aztecs. They went to raise reinforcements to battle the army of the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés, which had laid siege to the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan.
The first emissaries were sacrificed and sent to the afterlife. The second diplomatic mission came bearing gifts for the new Tarascan emperor, Tangaxuan II, such as crossbows and swords captured from the conquistadors. The weapons piqued the emperor’s curiosity, so he sent a delegation to Tenochtitlan to see if the untrustworthy Aztecs were telling the truth.
But the Tarascans never arrived. They were met by refugees who told them to turn back as there was nothing but the smell of death in the Aztec city. Both Cuauhtemōc, Tangaxuan II, and their empires met horrific deaths at the hands of Cortés.
Like the bronze age people of the Middle East, the great empires of Mesoamerica, and thousands of other peoples whose lives and nations now lay buried in the earth, we too are failing to react to the warning signs that could make the difference to whether humanity survives.
As the Union of Concerned Scientists, a non-profit consortium based in the US, announces: “Climate change is one of the most devastating problems that humanity has ever faced – and the clock is running out.”
In September 2024, a report compiled by the World Meteorological Organization stated: “The science is clear – greenhouse gas emissions are rising, global temperatures are shattering records and extreme weather is wreaking havoc with our lives and our economies … The decisions we make today could mean the difference between a future of breakdown or a breakthrough to a better world for people and the planet.”
This report came nine months after a World Economic Forum model indicated that the world is on track for 14.5 million deaths and US$12.5 trillion (roughly £10 trillion) in economic losses due to the climate crisis by 2050.
In fact, since at least the 1970s when my father was working with Jia-Yin Wang at San Jose State University on instruments used for monitoring the environment, we should have been heeding the warnings that it was time to begin to adjust our behaviour.
In the 1980s and 1990s, hard data from ice cores from Greenland and Antarctica painted a clear stratigraphic history of climate change. And in 2000, geologist Richard Alley of Penn State University published a revolutionary study entitled The Two-Mile Time Machine: Ice Cores, Abrupt Climate Change, and Our Future. I incorporated his work in my classes on cultural ecology at Penn State.
Yet, at the same time, most politicians worldwide were in denial. They were often also in the pockets of corporate interests who were more concerned that corrective action might hurt their quarterly profits and therefore continued to block the significant action required to save our planet.
Meanwhile, political candidates like Al Gore failed to gain traction even though they clearly demonstrated an understanding of the science and paid deference to the experts.
No people in the civilisations I have studied during my career as an archaeologist expected to become a forgotten footnote of history. Their societies were thriving and people were enjoying life. And then they weren’t.
Something happened that eradicated their cultures, buried their temples, and brought down their walls. Now, their mortal remains are the vestigial remnants of once-great nations.
The institutions of their government, and the increasing threats – be they climatic, military, economic or political – gave warnings that the paths of their nations were not sustainable. Yet, they failed to react in a timely manner.
Archaeology teaches us that we are not immune to extinction. We have evolved to anticipate and respond to changes and threats in our environment, and the evolution of science best represents this survival skill.
Yet, our political, ideological and economic systems adapt to different forces focused on individual success and profit. This is often in complete contradiction to the ardent remonstrations of the scientific community.
We will not escape the consequences of global warming. Millions of people will die, and areas of Earth will become uninhabitable. But we may still be able to save our planet and billions of lives in the process.
If you are fortunate enough to be a citizen of a powerful and free country with the ability to choose your leaders, choose wisely. Just as ancient elites like Amarapi, Suppiluliuma II, Ukit Took, Cuauhtemōc, and Tangaxuan II learned, even those who think themselves protected by gods or wealth rarely escape the consequences of their failures to act, or their indifference to the suffering of the rest of humanity.
Jay Silverstein does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
