Note: This is a research note supplementing the book Unscarcity, now available for purchase. These notes expand on concepts from the main text. Start here or get the book.

Bronze Age Collapse: Centralization’s Fatal Flaw

What burning palaces, vanished empires, and 3,200-year-old spreadsheets tell us about AI governance

Here’s a riddle: What do a Mycenaean scribe counting sheep in 1200 BCE and an AWS engineer monitoring server loads in 2025 CE have in common?

Both are managing systems so optimized for efficiency that a single bad day could bring down civilization.

Dramatic? Maybe. But the Mediterranean Bronze Age wasn’t just a collapse—it was a stress test for centralized systems, and the results were spectacularly bad. Palaces burned. Writing vanished for 400 years. Entire empires simply stopped existing. And here’s the uncomfortable part: we’re building digital versions of the exact same architecture.

Let’s talk about why the smartest civilizations of the ancient world crashed harder than a blockchain during a rug pull.

The Original “Move Fast and Break Things”

The Late Bronze Age wasn’t some primitive backwater. These were the tech bros of antiquity—coordinating trade networks from Britain to Afghanistan, building walls so massive later Greeks assumed giants made them, running economies more complex than anything humanity would see again for millennia.

Their secret weapon? The palace economy.

How It Worked (And Why It Worked Too Well)

Imagine if Amazon, Google, the Federal Reserve, and the DMV merged into a single institution. That was a Bronze Age palace. The Mycenaean palace at Pylos wasn’t just where the king lived—it was:

The bank: All wealth flowed in and out
The factory: Craftsmen worked for palace rations, not markets
The trading company: International commerce was a royal monopoly
The census bureau: Scribes tracked everything

And I mean everything. We have Linear B tablets listing individual sheep by name, tallying bronze arrowheads, recording exactly 2-6 liters of barley distributed to specific workers on specific days. These people invented spreadsheets 3,000 years before Microsoft, and they used them to micromanage every grain in the kingdom.

The efficiency was remarkable. Centralized planning let these civilizations:

Build cyclopean walls requiring thousands of coordinated laborers
Run trade networks spanning half a continent
Field armies of thousands with standardized bronze equipment
Create surplus that funded art, religion, and expansion

This wasn’t primitive agriculture—it was logistics sophistication that wouldn’t be matched until the Industrial Revolution.

The Efficiency Trap

But here’s the problem with maximum efficiency: it leaves zero margin for error.

When you’ve optimized away all redundancy, every grain of barley has a destination, every bronze ingot has a purpose, and every worker depends on the palace for survival. There’s no slack in the system. No backup plan. No “well, if that fails, we could always…”

The palace was a single point of failure serving an entire civilization.

Sound familiar?

The Fire Sale (Literally)

Around 1200 BCE, something went wrong. We’re still arguing about what exactly—invading “Sea Peoples,” droughts, earthquakes, internal revolts, trade disruptions. Probably all of the above. But here’s the terrifying part: it doesn’t matter what triggered it.

The collapse wasn’t caused by any single catastrophe. The collapse happened because the system couldn’t handle any catastrophe.

The Archaeological Crime Scene

The destruction is archaeological gospel at this point. At Mycenae, Tiryns, Pylos, and Thebes—across the entire Greek world—we find:

Intense fires that destroyed palace complexes around 1200 BCE
Simultaneous collapse (not sequential, not random—simultaneous)
Evidence of frantic last-minute fortification efforts that clearly failed

The palace at Pylos burned so hot that the clay tablets hardened into permanence—accidentally preserving the last desperate accounts of a doomed administration. The final tablets reference “watchers” stationed along the coast, suggesting they knew something was coming. They just couldn’t stop it.

When Writing Dies

Here’s the detail that should keep modern infrastructure planners up at night: Linear B script—the writing system that ran these palace economies—didn’t evolve or simplify after the collapse.

It vanished.

For 400 years, Greeks didn’t write. At all. The knowledge of literacy just… stopped. This wasn’t a cultural choice. When the palaces burned, the entire administrative apparatus that required writing burned with them. No scribes, no accounts, no written records, no need for writing.

Think about that. An entire civilization became functionally illiterate overnight because their information systems were too centralized to survive a disruption.

The Hittite Evaporation

The Hittite Empire’s demise is somehow even more unsettling. Tree ring data from Turkey shows a severe drought from 1198-1196 BCE. Bad, but not unprecedented. Droughts happen.

But the Hittite capital of Hattusa wasn’t destroyed. It was abandoned. Around 1180 BCE, people just… left. An empire that had dominated Anatolia for centuries, that had fought the Egyptian Empire to a draw at Kadesh, that possessed some of the most advanced metallurgy in the ancient world—it didn’t fall. It evaporated.

When your civilization is optimized for central control, and central control stops functioning, there’s nothing left.

The Modern Palace Economy

“Okay,” you might say, “fascinating ancient history. What does this have to do with AI?”

Everything.

Meet Your New Palace Administrators

As of late 2024 and early 2025, here’s our modern palace economy:

AWS controls about 30% of global cloud infrastructure. Microsoft Azure and Google Cloud hold another 33% combined. Three companies operate the computational infrastructure for most of the internet.
Google commands roughly 89-90% of global search—the first sustained dip below 90% since 2015, but still a near-monopoly on how humanity finds information.
GitHub Copilot now writes nearly half of code for developers using it, with some Java developers seeing 61% AI-generated code.
Meta’s family of apps reaches 3.5 billion daily active users—nearly half of Earth’s population sees reality filtered through Mark Zuckerberg’s algorithms every day.

These aren’t just large companies. They’re economic chokepoints. Digital versions of Bronze Age palaces, controlling the flow of information, compute, and increasingly, economic activity.

The Same Architecture, Different Medium

The parallels are almost too neat:

Bronze Age Palace Economy:

Central collection of all production
Central distribution of all resources
Central control of trade networks
Obsessive record-keeping of every transaction

Modern Digital Economy:

Centralized cloud infrastructure (AWS, Azure, Google Cloud)
Algorithmic distribution of attention and content
Platform control of digital commerce (App Store, Google Play, Amazon)
Obsessive data collection of every interaction

The Mycenaean scribes tracked sheep. Google tracks your searches. The palace distributed barley rations. The algorithm distributes engagement. The economic logic is identical—only the substrate changed.

What Happens When the Palace Burns

We’ve already run mini-experiments on centralized failure:

The 2021 Facebook Outage: A routing configuration error knocked out Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, and Messenger simultaneously. For six hours, billions of people lost access to services they’d integrated into their businesses, families, and daily routines. Some small businesses couldn’t process payments. People couldn’t contact family members in emergencies. The economic disruption was estimated in billions of dollars.

The 2020 SolarWinds Attack: A compromised software update from a single vendor infiltrated 18,000 organizations including major corporations and U.S. government agencies. One supply chain, one update, thousands of compromised systems.

AWS Outages: When AWS experiences problems, the cascading failures hit smart home devices, streaming services, e-commerce platforms, and business applications simultaneously. During the December 2021 outage, some people couldn’t vacuum their houses because their robot vacuums depended on AWS.

Your robot vacuum depending on a server in Virginia to function isn’t a feature—it’s a vulnerability dressed up as convenience.

Four Lessons from the Ashes

The Bronze Age Collapse wasn’t inevitable. Egypt survived it. Assyria emerged stronger. Certain regions adapted while others fell. The difference wasn’t luck—it was architecture.

Lesson 1: Decentralization Isn’t a Luxury

The civilizations that weathered the collapse had more distributed power structures. Egypt’s nomes (provinces) retained meaningful autonomy. When the central administration weakened, local systems could compensate.

For AI governance, this means:

Federated learning over centralized model training
Multiple competing systems rather than single dominant platforms
Local compute that functions independently of cloud connections
Open protocols that prevent vendor lock-in

The Unscarcity framework addresses this through The MOSAIC—a federated network of autonomous Commons, each managing its own systems. When one Commons fails, others continue. The architecture assumes failures will happen and designs around them.

Lesson 2: Diversity Is a Survival Strategy

Every Mycenaean palace ran the same economic model. Same Linear B script. Same redistribution logic. Same dependencies. When the system failed, it failed everywhere simultaneously because everywhere was running the same system.

This is Five Laws Axiom V: Difference Sustains Life.

For AI systems, diversity means:

Varied architectures (not everyone using the same transformer models from the same labs)
Different training approaches (not just “scale and data”)
Multiple governance models (not just corporate or government control)
Actual fallback systems (when the AI fails, what happens?)

The Diversity Guard exists specifically to prevent the Unscarcity framework from drifting toward monoculture. Major decisions require consensus across demonstrably different Commons. The mathematics of diversity makes cultural capture statistically improbable.

Lesson 3: Resilience Costs Efficiency (And That’s Fine)

Palace economies eliminated “wasteful” redundancy. Every resource had a purpose. Nothing was stockpiled unnecessarily. This optimization became the vulnerability.

Resilient systems require:

Redundant capacity (multiple systems doing similar tasks)
Local autonomy (edge computing, not just cloud)
Human backup (people who can function without the AI)
Gradual transitions (not sudden AI-dependent transformations)

The Unscarcity framework’s concept of Graceful Degradation Modes is designed around this principle. The Foundation’s automated systems should fail gracefully—degrading to simpler but functional states rather than collapsing entirely. If fusion power fails, solar continues. If automated distribution fails, humans can manage manually. The system assumes its own fallibility.

Lesson 4: Information Systems Need Escape Valves

Linear B was so tied to palace administration that when palaces burned, writing died. The information system had no independent existence.

AI governance must ensure:

Human-readable outputs (not just opaque model weights)
Transferable knowledge (documentation, not just trained models)
Distributed storage (no single vault of civilization’s memory)
Comprehensible decisions (explainable AI, not black boxes)

This is Axiom II: Truth Must Be Seen. The Distributed Proof-of-Integrity Framework (DPIF) exists to ensure that all decisions are recorded, auditable, and traceable. When the palace burns, the knowledge survives.

The Choice We’re Making

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: we know better, and we’re doing it anyway.

We’ve seen what happens when you optimize away resilience. We have 3,200-year-old evidence baked into clay tablets by the fires that destroyed the civilization that wrote them. We have case studies in system failure from our own recent history. We have every reason to build differently.

And yet.

And yet we keep building palace economies. We centralize more. We optimize more. We create more dependencies. We integrate AI deeper into critical systems while concentrating that AI in fewer hands.

The Bronze Age aristocrats also thought their palaces were too important to fail. They’d built walls so massive that later generations would call them “cyclopean”—the work of giants. They had trade networks spanning continents. They had administrative systems tracking every sheep in the kingdom.

They were wrong about their invincibility, and so are we.

The Alternative

The Unscarcity framework isn’t just about abundance—it’s about abundance that survives. The MOSAIC’s federated structure, the Diversity Guard’s requirement for cross-cultural consensus, the Five Laws’s protections against power concentration—these aren’t idealistic additions. They’re the lessons of collapsed civilizations encoded into architecture.

When the next disruption comes—and it will, whether it’s a cyberattack, an AI failure cascade, a solar flare, or something we haven’t imagined yet—the question won’t be whether our systems are efficient.

The question will be whether they were designed to fail gracefully.

The scribes at Pylos wrote their final tablets as the palace burned. They were watching the coasts. They knew something was coming. But their system had no resilience, no redundancy, no fallback. All that efficiency, all that optimization, all that coordination—and it couldn’t handle a disruption.

We have their tablets. We know their story. We have no excuse for building the same mistake twice, just with better processors.

The palaces burned once. We shouldn’t be surprised if digital palaces burn the same way.

Bronze Age Collapse: Centralization's Fatal Flaw