Level 1 · Module 5: Things That Lasted and Things That Didn't · Lesson 4

What Makes Things Fall Apart?

comparison

When

The Library of Alexandria was founded around 300 BCE and declined over several centuries. Machu Picchu was built in the 1400s CE and abandoned around 1530. Both stories involve loss, though the causes are very different.

Where

Alexandria, Egypt and the Andes Mountains of Peru

Find Egypt in northeastern Africa. Now look at the Mediterranean coast in northern Egypt — the ancient city of Alexandria sits there, right where the Nile Delta meets the sea. It was one of the most important cities in the ancient world. Now travel to a completely different place: find South America on your map, and look along the western coast. The country of Peru sits against the Andes Mountains. High in those mountains — about 8,000 feet above sea level — lies Machu Picchu, the Inca city abandoned in the 1530s and hidden by jungle for nearly 400 years.

Key Features on the Map

Alexandria, Egypt — location of the ancient Library of AlexandriaThe Nile Delta — where Egypt's great river meets the MediterraneanThe Mediterranean Sea — the sea that connected the ancient world's greatest civilizationsPeru — country on the western coast of South AmericaThe Andes Mountains — the high mountain range where Machu Picchu sitsMachu Picchu — the Inca city abandoned around 1530 CE and rediscovered in 1911

Alexandria's location at the crossroads of the Mediterranean world made it the center of ancient knowledge — and also made it a target in every war. Machu Picchu's remote location in the Andes, once a weakness that made it isolated, ultimately became the reason it survived physically — the jungle hid it too well for later peoples to dismantle it.

Two very different human creations — the Library of Alexandria in Egypt and the city of Machu Picchu in Peru — were both lost, but in different ways. The Library was gradually destroyed over centuries through fire, war, political decisions, and neglect, until its knowledge was scattered and gone. Machu Picchu was physically preserved by its isolation, but its story was lost so completely that the outside world did not know it existed for nearly 400 years. Both losses teach us about the different ways things fall apart.

Building On

How the Hittite Empire collapsed

In Lesson 2 we saw how drought, raiders, and broken trade routes combined to bring down an empire. This lesson asks a related question: what brings down specific human creations — libraries, cities, bodies of knowledge — and what are the patterns in how those losses happen?

What makes things last

Lesson 3 identified three things that help things last: being made well, being continuously used, and being adopted by caring communities. This lesson examines what happens when those protections fail — when things are abandoned, when communities stop caring, when the forces of destruction exceed the forces of preservation.

Losing a book is annoying. Losing the only copy of a book is a tragedy. Losing the only library that contains the only copies of hundreds of books — that is a catastrophe for all of human knowledge, and something like that is exactly what happened at Alexandria. The library contained, at its height, perhaps 700,000 scrolls — the collected knowledge of the ancient Greek, Egyptian, Persian, and Babylonian worlds. Much of what was there has never been found again.

We do not always recognize what we have lost until long afterward. The ancient Greeks and Romans had access to astronomical calculations, medical texts, mathematical proofs, and geographic surveys that we are still trying to reconstruct today. Some of what they knew — and what was held at Alexandria — was not rediscovered by European scholars until the Renaissance, a thousand years later. Some may never be recovered.

Machu Picchu is a different kind of loss. The buildings survived almost perfectly, protected by the jungle and the altitude. What was lost was the story — who built it, why they built it, what it was used for, why they left. The Incas had no writing system, which means they left no documents that could explain themselves to future generations. Physical things can survive while meaning is lost entirely.

Understanding how things fall apart is not meant to be discouraging. It is meant to make us careful — careful about what we back up, what we teach our children, what we maintain rather than neglect, and what institutions we protect. Libraries, universities, schools, and archives exist precisely because someone decided that knowledge should be deliberately protected, not just left to chance.

Two Kinds of Lost

Imagine a building the size of several city blocks, filled floor to ceiling with scrolls made of papyrus — the ancient Egyptian writing material, like paper but sturdier. Each scroll contains hundreds of lines of carefully copied text: geometry, medicine, astronomy, poetry, history, philosophy. The smell is dry papyrus and lamp oil. The sound is the quiet scratch of reed pens as scholars copy and annotate. This is the Library of Alexandria at its height, around 250 BCE, and it is the greatest collection of human knowledge the ancient world had ever assembled.

The Library was founded by the Egyptian pharaohs of Greek descent — the Ptolemies — around 300 BCE. They had an ambitious and somewhat ruthless acquisition policy: every ship that arrived in Alexandria's harbor was required to surrender any books on board for copying. The Library kept the originals and gave back copies. Royal agents were sent to buy, borrow, and steal manuscripts from every corner of the known world. The goal was nothing less than to gather all human knowledge in one place.

But gathering everything in one place creates a terrible vulnerability: if that one place is destroyed, everything is destroyed. And Alexandria was destroyed — not all at once, but in pieces, over centuries. Julius Caesar accidentally burned part of it in 48 BCE when he set fire to ships in the harbor and the fire spread to nearby warehouses — historians still debate how much was lost. Later rulers cut its funding. The great scholars who had made it the center of the world's learning stopped coming. The scrolls began to deteriorate in the hot, humid Egyptian air. Some were sold off. Some were moved. Eventually what remained was simply scattered, neglected, and lost.

We do not know exactly when 'the Library of Alexandria' as a unified institution ceased to exist. That ambiguity is itself telling: things often do not end with a single dramatic moment but with a slow fading, an accumulation of bad decisions, neglect, and misfortune. The last fire is often the least important one.

Now travel to the mountains of Peru, where a completely different kind of loss was underway. The Inca Empire built Machu Picchu sometime in the 1400s CE, probably as a royal estate or religious retreat for the emperor. It sits on a mountain ridge at 7,970 feet above sea level, surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs dropping down to the Urubamba River. The stone walls fit together so precisely that you cannot slide a piece of paper between the blocks. The terraces cascade down the mountainside in neat steps. It is breathtaking.

Then, in the 1530s, Spanish conquistadors arrived in Peru and within a decade had conquered the Inca Empire. The Inca emperor was captured and killed. The empire collapsed. And somewhere in those years of chaos, Machu Picchu was abandoned. The people left. The terraces stopped being farmed. The jungle began its patient work: roots cracking stones, vines crawling over walls, trees growing through doorways. Within decades, the city that had perhaps 1,000 residents was invisible from the valley below. The jungle had swallowed it.

For nearly 400 years, Machu Picchu sat hidden in plain sight — local farmers in the valley knew it was up there, but it was not news anyone needed to tell the outside world. In 1911, an American explorer named Hiram Bingham III was guided up the mountain by a local boy and found, under the vegetation, one of the most complete ancient cities on earth. The stones had survived almost perfectly. But the story — who built it, why they built it, whether it was sacred or practical or both — was largely gone, lost with the people who had been there and were now scattered or dead.

neglect
Failure to take care of something properly, not because of deliberate malice but because of inattention, lack of resources, or changing priorities. Neglect is one of the most common causes of the loss of great things — not dramatic destruction, but slow deterioration because no one kept up the maintenance.
scroll
An ancient form of book — a long sheet of papyrus or parchment rolled up around a wooden rod. You read a scroll by unrolling it from one end and rolling it up at the other. The Library of Alexandria held its collection in the form of scrolls.
papyrus
A writing material made from the stems of the papyrus plant, which grows along the Nile River in Egypt. Papyrus sheets were used for thousands of years in the ancient world. They are much less durable than parchment (made from animal skin) or modern paper.
conquistador
A Spanish word meaning 'conqueror.' Conquistadors were the Spanish soldiers and explorers who traveled to the Americas in the 1500s and conquered the Aztec and Inca empires, among others. Their arrival destroyed the political and social systems of those civilizations within a generation.
abandonment
The act of leaving something behind — a building, a city, a tradition — and not returning. When a city is abandoned, its maintenance stops, the weather takes over, and within decades or centuries even large structures can become unrecognizable.

Let's think about two kinds of loss before we start. The first kind: you lose a physical thing — a toy, a house, a building. The thing itself is gone. The second kind: the physical thing is still there, but the story about it — who made it, why, what it meant — is gone. Both are losses, but they are very different losses. The Library of Alexandria was mostly the first kind: the knowledge itself was destroyed. Machu Picchu was mostly the second kind: the building survived, but the meaning was lost.

The Library of Alexandria was not destroyed in a single fire. That is a myth. It actually declined over centuries — a little burned here, a little sold off there, the funding cut, the scholars leaving for other cities. This is actually the more common way that great things are lost: not in one dramatic catastrophe, but in dozens of small failures that add up. Each small failure seemed manageable. Taken together, they were fatal.

Here is something important about the Library. Gathering all the knowledge in one place was a great idea — and also a terrible vulnerability. If you have only one copy of a book, and the building it is in burns, the book is gone forever. If you have twenty copies of a book in twenty different cities, it takes a much bigger catastrophe to destroy all of them. The lesson for preserving knowledge is: spread it out, make copies, do not keep everything in one basket. This is why, today, important documents are backed up in multiple locations — sometimes on different continents.

Machu Picchu gives us a different lesson. The Incas had no writing system. Everything they knew — their history, their religion, their laws, their techniques — was passed on through spoken memory, through knots tied in strings called quipu, and through oral tradition. When the Spanish conquest disrupted those systems and killed or scattered the people who carried that knowledge, the knowledge did not just go to sleep somewhere. It was gone. A civilization's knowledge is only as safe as the people and systems that carry it. If those people are killed or silenced, the knowledge dies with them.

Notice that both the Library and Machu Picchu were lost partly because of war or conquest. Caesar's fire. The Spanish conquest. War is one of the most powerful destroyers of human heritage there is. This is why, today, international laws exist specifically to protect historical sites and cultural heritage in wartime — because the world has learned, over and over, how easily irreplaceable things can be lost in a conflict.

Here is a thought experiment: if you could go back in time and do one thing to prevent the loss of the Library of Alexandria, what would it be? Make more copies and distribute them? Build a fireproof building? Spread the books to other cities? There is no perfect answer — but thinking through the question reveals something important: preservation requires planning, resources, and the political will to treat knowledge as worth protecting. None of those things happen automatically.

Things fall apart in recognizable ways: through neglect (the slow failure of maintenance), through war or conquest (sudden destruction beyond a community's control), through abandonment (the deliberate or desperate decision to leave), and through the loss of the people who carry meaning and memory. Very often, more than one of these forces works together. And the loss is rarely recognized as permanent until long after the last chance to prevent it has passed.

Things fall apart in predictable ways: neglect, war, climate change, and abandonment each create conditions where even great human achievements can be lost — sometimes the physical object survives but the knowledge dies, sometimes the building survives but the story is forgotten.

The same forces that the Hittite Empire could not withstand — war, disruption, and abandonment — can also destroy books, cities, and knowledge, depending on how well they have been protected and how widely they have been spread.

The lessons of the Library of Alexandria are taken seriously today. Major digital archives — including the Internet Archive, which preserves copies of websites, books, and audio recordings — were explicitly founded because their creators were thinking about Alexandria. The founders asked: what if the internet disappeared? What if a server farm burned? The answer was to distribute copies widely, to back up important things in multiple formats in multiple locations. Machu Picchu, for its part, is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of Peru's most important sources of cultural identity and tourism revenue. The challenge there has reversed: too many visitors are now causing erosion of the site, and Peru has had to restrict access to try to preserve the physical stones.

It is tempting to look at the loss of the Library of Alexandria and feel pure despair — all that knowledge, gone forever — or to look at the Spanish conquest's destruction of Inca culture and simply call it evil. Both reactions contain some truth, but they can lead to a kind of paralysis or oversimplification. The Library's loss was the result of many decisions over many centuries — some were terrible decisions, some were accidents, some were simply the normal priorities of people who did not know what they were losing. The Spanish conquest was genuinely violent and destructive, and its effects on Indigenous peoples were catastrophic and ongoing. But despair about the past does not help preserve things in the present. The more useful response to learning about historical loss is not paralysis — it is the resolve to be a better caretaker of what we have been given. Do not let the scale of historical loss make you cynical about whether preservation is worth trying. It is always worth trying.

  1. 1.The Library of Alexandria held perhaps 700,000 scrolls. What kinds of things do you think might have been written on those scrolls that we no longer know?
  2. 2.The Library was not destroyed all at once — it faded over centuries through many small failures. Does that surprise you? Can you think of something in your own life that has been lost gradually, a little at a time, rather than all at once?
  3. 3.The Incas left no written language. What things in your own life would be lost if there were no writing — if everything depended on people remembering it and telling each other?
  4. 4.If you were in charge of protecting the most important books and knowledge in the world today, how would you do it? Where would you keep it? How many copies would you make?
  5. 5.War is described in this lesson as one of the greatest destroyers of human heritage. Why do you think the world made laws specifically to protect historical sites during wartime? Do you think those laws are enough?
  6. 6.Machu Picchu was physically preserved almost perfectly — but the story of why it was built was largely lost. Is it possible to have the thing without the meaning? Is that a complete loss, or a partial one?

Save It or Lose It — A Preservation Plan

  1. 1.Choose one piece of knowledge or skill that exists in your family or community — it could be a recipe, a craft, a story, a song, or a way of doing something that an older person in your life knows.
  2. 2.Imagine that this knowledge exists in only one person's head right now. What would happen to it if that person were no longer able to share it?
  3. 3.Write or draw a plan for preserving it. How many copies would you make? In what form — written down, recorded as audio or video, taught to children? Who would you share it with?
  4. 4.Share your plan with a parent or grandparent. Ask them: is there something they know that has not been written down or passed on? This could become a real preservation project.
  1. 1.What was the Library of Alexandria, and where was it located?
  2. 2.Was the Library destroyed all at once, or did it fade over centuries?
  3. 3.What is one thing the Incas used to pass on knowledge since they had no writing system?
  4. 4.Where is Machu Picchu, and why was it hidden for nearly 400 years?
  5. 5.Who rediscovered Machu Picchu in 1911?
  6. 6.Name two of the four causes of loss discussed in this lesson.

This lesson pairs two contrasting stories of loss to illustrate that things fall apart in different ways: the Library of Alexandria represents the loss of knowledge through accumulating neglect and disaster, while Machu Picchu represents the survival of physical form with the loss of meaning and story. Both types of loss are real and instructive. For this age group, the most powerful take-away is probably the practical exercise: asking a grandparent or older family member about something they know that has not been written down or taught to anyone. This turns an abstract historical lesson into a real act of preservation. The lesson's misuseWarning addresses both despair ('it's all going to be lost anyway') and moral flattening of the Spanish conquest — both are worth a brief word. You do not need to go deep on either; acknowledging that the conquest was destructive and that despair is not the useful response is enough for ages 6–8.

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