Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed

by Jared Diamond

  Montana provides an ideal case study with which to begin this book on past and present environmental problems. In the case of the past societies that I shall discuss—Polynesian, Anasazi, Maya, Greenland Norse, and others—we know the eventual outcomes of their inhabitants’ decisions about managing their environment, but for the most part we don’t know their names or personal stories, and we can only guess at the motives that led them to act as they did. In contrast, in modern Montana we do know names, life histories, and motives. Some of the people involved have been my friends for over 50 years. From understanding Montanans’ motives, we can better imagine motives operating in the past. This chapter will put a personal face on a subject that could otherwise seem abstract.

  In addition, Montana provides a salutory balance to the following chapters’ discussions of small, poor, peripheral, past societies in fragile environments. I intentionally chose to discuss those societies because they were the ones suffering the biggest consequences of their environmental damage, and they thus powerfully illustrate the processes that form the subject of this book. But they are not the only types of societies exposed to serious environmental problems, as illustrated by the contrast case of Montana. It is part of the richest country in the modern world, and it is one of the most pristine and least populated parts of that country, seemingly with fewer problems of environment and population than the rest of the U.S. Certainly, Montana’s problems are far less acute than those of crowding, traffic, smog, water quality and quantity, and toxic wastes that beset Americans in Los Angeles, where I live, and in the other urban areas where most Americans live. If, despite that, even Montana has environmental and population problems, it becomes easier to understand how much more serious those problems are elsewhere in the U.S. Montana will illustrate the five main themes of this book: human impacts on the environment; climate change; a society’s relations with neighboring friendly societies (in the case of Montana, those in other U.S. states); a society’s exposure to acts of other potentially hostile societies (such as overseas terrorists and oil producers today); and the importance of a society’s responses to its problems.

  The same environmental disadvantages that penalize food production throughout the whole of the American Intermontane West also limit Montana’s suitability for growing crops and raising livestock. They are: Montana’s relatively low rainfall, resulting in low rates of plant growth; its high latitude and high altitude, both resulting in a short growing season and limiting crops to one a year rather than the two a year possible in areas with a longer summer; and its distance from markets in the more densely populated areas of the U.S. that might buy its products. What those disadvantages mean is that anything grown in Montana can be grown more cheaply and with higher productivity, and transported faster and more cheaply to population centers, elsewhere in North America. Hence Montana’s history consists of attempts to answer the fundamental question of how to make a living in this beautiful, but agriculturally non-competitive land.

  Human occupation of Montana falls into several economic phases. The first phase was of Native Americans, who arrived at least 13,000 years ago. In contrast to the agricultural societies that they developed in eastern and southern North America, Montana’s Native Americans before European arrival remained hunter-gatherers, even in areas where agriculture and herding are practiced today. One reason is that Montana lacked native wild plant and animal species lending themselves to domestication, so there were no independent origins of agriculture in Montana, in contrast to the situation in eastern North America and Mexico. Another reason is that Montana lay far from those two Native American centers of independent agricultural origins, so that crops originating there had not spread to Montana by the time of European arrival. Today, about three-quarters of Montana’s remaining Native Americans live on seven reservations, most of which are poor in natural resources except for pasture.

  The first recorded Europeans to visit Montana were the members of the transcontinental Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1804-1806, which spent more time in what was later to become Montana than in any other state. They were followed by Montana’s second economic phase involving the “mountain men,” fur trappers and traders coming down from Canada and also from the U.S. The next phase began in the 1860s and was based on three foundations of Montana’s economy that have continued (albeit with diminishing importance) until the present: mining, especially of copper and gold; logging; and food production, involving raising cattle and sheep and growing grains, fruits, and vegetables. The influx of miners to Montana’s big copper mine at Butte stimulated other sectors of the economy to meet the needs of that internal market within the state. In particular, much timber was taken out of the nearby Bitterroot Valley to provide power for the mines, to construct miners’ houses, and to shore up the mine shafts; and much food for the miners was grown in the valley, whose southerly location and mild climate (by Montana standards) give it the nickname of “Montana’s Banana Belt.” Although the valley’s rainfall is low (13 inches per year) and the natural vegetation is sagebrush, the first European settlers in the 1860s already began overcoming that disadvantage by building small irrigation ditches fed by streams draining the Bitterroot Mountains on the valley’s west side; and later, by engineering two sets of large-scale and expensive irrigation systems, one (the so-called Big Ditch) built in 1908-1910 to take water from Lake Como on the west side of the valley, and the other consisting of several large irrigation canals drawing water from the Bitterroot River itself. Among other things, irrigation permitted a boom in apple orchards that began in the Bitterroot Valley in the 1880s and peaked in the early decades of the 20th century, but today few of those orchards remain in commercial operation.

  Of those former bases of Montana’s economy, hunting and fishing have shifted from a subsistence activity to a recreation; the fur trade is extinct; and mines, logging, and agriculture are declining in importance, because of economic and environmental factors to be discussed below. Instead, the sectors of the economy that are growing nowadays are tourism, recreation, retirement living, and health care. A symbolic landmark in the Bitterroot Valley’s recent economic transformation took place in 1996, when a 2,600-acre farm called the Bitterroot Stock Farm, formerly the estate of the Montana copper baron Marcus Daly, was acquired by the wealthy brokerage house owner Charles Schwab. He began to develop Daly’s estate for very rich out-of-staters who wanted a second (or even a third or fourth) home in the beautiful valley to visit for fishing, hunting, horseback riding, and golfing a couple of times each year. The Stock Farm includes an 18-hole championship golf course and about 125 sites for what are called either houses or cabins, “cabin” being a euphemism for a structure of up to six bedrooms and 6,000 square feet selling for $800,000 or more. Buyers of Stock Farm lots must be able to prove that they meet high standards of net worth and income, the least of which is the ability to afford a club membership initiation fee of $125,000, which is more than seven times the average annual income of Ravalli County residents. The whole Stock Farm is fenced, and the entrance gate bears a sign, MEMBERS AND GUESTS ONLY. Many of the owners arrive by private jet and rarely shop or set foot in Hamilton, but prefer to eat at the Stock Farm club or else have their groceries picked up from Hamilton by club employees. As one local Hamilton resident explained to me bitterly, “You can spot coveys of the aristocracy when they decide to go slumming downtown in tight packs like foreign tourists.”

  The announcement of the Stock Farm’s development plan came as a shock to some Bitterroot Valley long-timers, who predicted that no one would pay so much money for valley land, and that the lots would never sell. As it turned out, the long-timers were wrong. While rich out-of-staters had already been visiting and buying in the valley as individuals, the Stock Farm’s opening was a symbolic milestone because it involved so many very rich people buying Bitterroot land at once. Above all, the Stock Farm drove home how much more valuable the valley’s land had become for recreation than for its traditional uses of gro
wing cows and apples.

  Montana’s environmental problems today include almost all of the dozen types of problems that have undermined pre-industrial societies in the past, or that now threaten societies elsewhere in the world as well. Particularly conspicuous in Montana are problems of toxic wastes, forests, soils, water (and sometimes air), climate change, biodiversity losses, and introduced pests. Let’s begin with seemingly the most transparent problem, that of toxic wastes.

  While concern is mounting in Montana about runoff of fertilizer, manure, septic tank contents, and herbicides, by far the biggest toxic waste issue is posed by residues from metal mining, some of it from the last century and some of it recent or ongoing. Metal mining—especially of copper, but also of lead, molybdenum, palladium, platinum, zinc, gold, and silver—stood as one of the traditional pillars of Montana’s economy. No one disagrees that mining is essential, somewhere and somehow: modern civilization and its chemical, construction, electric, and electronic industries run on metals. Instead, the question is where and how best to mine metal-bearing ores.

  Unfortunately, the ore concentrate that is eventually carried away from a Montana mine in order to extract the metals represents only a fraction of the earth that must first be dug up. The remainder is waste rock and tailings still containing copper, arsenic, cadmium, and zinc, which are toxic to people (as well as to fish, wildlife, and our livestock) and hence are bad news when they get into groundwater, rivers, and soil. In addition, Montana ores are rich in iron sulfide, which yields sulfuric acid. In Montana there are about 20,000 abandoned mines, some of them recent but many of them a century or more old, that will be leaking acid and those toxic metals essentially forever. The vast majority of those mines have no surviving owners to bear financial responsibility, or else the known owners aren’t rich enough to reclaim the mine and treat its acid drainage in perpetuity.

  Toxicity problems associated with mining were already recognized at Butte’s giant copper mine and nearby smelter a century ago, when neighboring ranchers saw their cows dying and sued the mine’s owner, Anaconda Copper Mining Company. Anaconda denied responsibility and won the resulting lawsuit, but in 1907 it nevertheless built the first of several settling ponds to contain the toxic wastes. Thus, we have known for a long time that mine wastes can be sequestered so as to minimize problems; some new mines around the world now do so with state-of-the-art technology, while others continue to ignore the problem. In the U.S. today, a company opening a new mine is required by law to buy a bond by which a separate bond-holding company pledges to pay for the mine’s cleanup costs in case the mining company itself goes bankrupt. But many mines have been “under-bonded” (i.e., the eventual cleanup costs have proved to exceed the value of the bond), and older mines were not required to buy such bonds at all.

  In Montana as elsewhere, companies that have acquired older mines respond to demands to pay for cleanup in either of two ways. Especially if the company is small, its owners may declare the company bankrupt, in some cases conceal its assets, and transfer their business efforts to other companies or to new companies that do not bear responsibility for cleanup at the old mine. If the company is so large that it cannot claim that it would be bankrupted by cleanup costs (as in the case of ARCO that I shall discuss below), the company instead denies its responsibility or else seeks to minimize the costs. In either case, either the mine site and areas downstream of it remain toxic, thereby endangering people, or else the U.S. federal government and the Montana state government (hence ultimately all taxpayers) pay for the cleanup through the federal Superfund and a corresponding Montana state fund.

  These two alternative responses by mining companies pose a question that will recur throughout this book, as we try to understand why any person or group in any society would knowingly do something harmful to the society as a whole. While denial or minimization of responsibility may be in the short-term financial interests of the mining company, it is bad for society as a whole, and it may also be bad for the long-term interests of the company itself, or of the entire mining industry. Despite Montanans’ long-standing embrace of mining as a traditional value defining their state’s identity, they have recently become increasingly disillusioned with mining and have contributed to the industry’s near-demise within Montana. For instance, in 1998, to the shock of the industry, and to politicians supporting and supported by the industry, Montana voters passed a ballot initiative banning a problem-plagued method of gold mining termed cyanide heap-leach mining and discussed further below. Some of my Montana friends now say: in retrospect, when we compare the multi-billion-dollar mine cleanup costs borne by us taxpayers with Montana’s own meager past earnings from its mines, most of whose profits went to shareholders in the eastern U.S. or in Europe, we realize that Montana would have been better off in the long run if it had never mined copper at all but had just imported it from Chile, leaving the resulting problems to the Chileans!

  It is easy for us non-miners to become indignant at mining companies and to view their behavior as morally culpable. Didn’t they knowingly do things that harmed us, and aren’t they now shirking their responsibility? A sign posted over the toilet of one Montanan friend of mine reads, “Do not flush. Be like the mining industry and let someone else clean up your waste!”

  In fact, the moral issue is more complex. Here is one explanation that I quote from a recent book: “. . . ASARCO [American Smelting and Refining Company, a giant mining and smelting company] can hardly be blamed [for not cleaning up an especially toxic mine that it owned] . American businesses exist to make money for their owners; it is the modus operandi of American capitalism. A corollary to the money-making process is not spending it needlessly ... Such a tight-fisted philosophy is not limited to the mining industry. Successful businesses differentiate between those expenses necessary to stay in business and those more pensively characterized as ‘moral obligations.’ Difficulties or reluctance to understand and accept this distinction underscores much of the tension between advocates of broadly mandated environmental programs and the business community. Business leaders are more likely to be accountants or attorneys than members of the clergy.” That explanation does not come from the CEO of ASARCO, but from environmental consultant David Stiller, who sought in his book Wounding the West: Montana, Mining, and the Environment to understand how Montana’s toxic mine waste problem arose, and what society really has to do to fix it.

  It’s a cruel fact that no simple cheap way exists to clean up old mines. Early miners behaved as they did because the government required almost nothing of them, and because they were businessmen operating according to the principles that David Stiller explained. Not until 1971 did the state of Montana pass a law requiring mining companies to clean up their property when their mine closed. Even rich companies (like ARCO and ASARCO) that may be inclined to clean up become reluctant to do so when they realize that they may then be asked to do the impossible, or that the costs will be excessive, or that the achievable results will be less than the public expected. When the mine owner can’t or won’t pay, taxpayers don’t want to step in and pay billions of dollars of cleanup costs either. Instead, taxpayers feel that the problem has existed for a long time, out of sight and out of their backyards, so it must be tolerable; most taxpayers balk at spending money if there isn’t an immediate crisis; and not enough taxpayers complain about toxic wastes or support high taxes. In this sense, the American public is as responsible for inaction as are miners and the government; we the public bear the ultimate responsibility. Only when the public pressures its politicians into passing laws demanding different behavior from mining companies will the companies behave differently: otherwise, the companies would be operating as charities and would be violating their responsibility to their shareholders. Three cases will serve to illustrate some of the various outcomes of these dilemmas to date: the cases of the Clark Fork, Milltown Dam, and Pegasus Zortman-Landusky Mine.

  In 1882 the mining companies that later became the Ana
conda Copper Mining Company began operations at Butte near the headwaters of the Clark Fork of the Columbia River. By 1900, Butte accounted for half of the U.S.’s copper output. Until 1955 most mining at Butte involved underground tunnels, but in 1955 Anaconda began excavating an open-pit mine called the Berkeley Pit, now an enormous hole over a mile in diameter and 1,800 feet deep. Huge quantities of acidic mine tailings with toxic metals ended up in the Clark Fork River. But Anaconda’s fortunes then declined because of cheaper foreign competition, expropriation of its mines in Chile, and growing environmental concerns in the U.S. In 1976 Anaconda was bought by the big oil company ARCO (more recently bought in turn by the bigger oil company BP), which closed the smelter in 1980 and the mine itself in 1983, thereby eliminating thousands of jobs and three-quarters of the economic base for the Butte area.

  The Clark Fork River, including the Berkeley Pit, is now the largest and most expensive Superfund cleanup site in the U.S. In ARCO’s view, it is unfair to hold ARCO responsible for damage done by the mine’s previous owner, before the Superfund law even existed. In the view of the federal and state governments, ARCO acquired Anaconda’s assets, including Anaconda’s liabilities. At least, ARCO and BP are not declaring bankruptcy. As one environmentalist friend told me, “They are trying to get away with paying as little as possible, but there are worse companies to deal with than ARCO.” The acidic water seeping into the Berkeley Pit will be pumped out and treated forever. ARCO has already paid several hundred million dollars to the state of Montana for restoration of the Clark Fork, and its total eventual liability is estimated at one billion dollars, but that estimate is uncertain because the cleanup treatment consumes much power: who knows what power will cost 40 years from now?