I’m excited to announce the publication of my latest paper, The Paradox of Plenty: How Isolation and Abundance Stalled Innovation in the Ancient Americas. This expanded work builds on a six-part series I previously published about the migration of peoples to the Americas. In that series, I explored how geographic isolation and the remarkable abundance of fauna contributed to delayed technological development—factors that ultimately left Indigenous civilizations vulnerable to conquest by the Spanish in the 16th century CE.
The new paper combines those earlier articles and adds significant new material, including over 300 annotations and 51 illustrations to support the analysis.
The full paper is too lengthy to post here, but it’s freely available to read or download on academia.edu:
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Although the rich salmon runs and abundant shellfish lured Pacific Northwest peoples to settle along the coasts as early as 10,000 BCE (Erlandson et al., 2011), the Chumash of California did not develop sustainable fishing economies until ~8,000 BCE (Gamble, 2008; Kennett, 2005). Riverine settlements did not appear along the Mississippi River until ~6,000 BCE (Sassaman, 2005). Post-glacial melting submerged many Pleistocene coastal sites in South America, so little evidence of settlements dating before 10,000 BCE has been found (Dillehay et al., 2017). However, sites like Huaca Prieta in Peru, dating to ~8,000–5000 BCE, have revealed a gradual transition to sedentism with cotton nets, fishhooks, and gourds, hinting at developing coastal economies (Dillehay et al., 2012). Image generated by LTX AI Studio. |
The abstract:
This article explores the
delayed technological and societal development of ancient American
civilizations compared to their Eurasian counterparts, focusing on the critical
role of geographic isolation, environmental diversity, and ecological
constraints. Drawing from archaeological, climatological, and genetic evidence,
it traces the early migration routes into the Americas, the profound effects of
megafaunal extinction, and the slower domestication of plants and animals. The
study highlights how the Americas' north-south axis, the absence of draft
animals, and the abundance of wild resources contributed to the gradual
emergence of sedentary societies and agriculture. In examining the evolution of
social complexity—from early coastal settlements to stratified theocratic
states—the article underscores the role of catastrophic events such as the
Ilopango eruption in reshaping ancient American societies. Ultimately, it
argues that rather than representing technological deficiency, the Americas
followed unique developmental trajectories shaped by distinct environmental and
historical circumstances—offering vital lessons not only on cultural
resilience, but on the challenges posed by abundance itself, particularly as
humanity again reaches beyond its ecological frontiers.
Yet to
judge the outcome by its final clash is to miss the deeper lesson. The real
story lies not in the conquests but in the thousands of years of ingenuity,
adaptation, and resilience that came before (Mann, 2005; Kirch, 2010). In
different hemispheres, shaped by different constraints, early peoples forged
remarkably complex paths to civilization (Feinman & Marcus, 1998; Tainter,
1988). Abundance in the New World proved to be a blessing for thousands of
years enabling societies to flourish. But eventually, as resources diminished,
it also sowed the seeds of inequality, competition, and conflict.
Now, in
our own age, humanity again hears the siren call of abundance—this time among
the stars. Visions of off-world colonies and asteroid mining echo ancient
quests for fertile valleys and golden cities. We dream of escaping an earth
once more racked by extreme climate change perhaps this time, insurmountable.
Almost in desperation we imagine new Edens beyond our sky. Yet the question
remains: will we carry forward the hard-won lessons of our past, or repeat the
cycles of exploitation that turned first contact into catastrophe?
History
offers no guarantees. But it reminds us that while abundance tempts, it also
tests. The future we shape—on Earth or elsewhere—will depend not on how far we
reach, but on how deeply we remember.
