Declining Birth Rates Are a Good Thing, Actually

It’s not the fall of civilization — it’s a chance to save it.

Photo by Mike Chai

A new kind of propaganda is sweeping through the lush halls of power, the feeds of social media, and even the lips of your nearest, dearest billionaire. Declining birth rates, they warn, are a harbinger of doom, a signal of cultural collapse, a death knell for "Western civilization." And at the helm of this chorus of panic is none other than Trump-buddy Elon Musk, tweeting apocalyptic soundbites like "Population collapse is the biggest threat to civilization" or "If there aren’t enough people for Earth, there definitely won’t be enough for Mars!”.

Source: X

Let’s get one thing straight: this isn’t about humanity’s future. This is about preserving the current system — a system that depends on an ever-growing pool of workers, consumers, and taxpayers to fuel an unsustainable machine. Capitalism, as we know it, cannot survive without endless growth. It requires more people to buy more things, to pay more taxes, to fund pensions, and to fill the gaps in an economic model that prioritizes profit above all else. When Musk and his cringe-inducing ilk sound the alarm on declining birth rates, they aren’t mourning the loss of human potential. They’re mourning the loss of cheap labor.

"The birth of every new child is also the birth of a new consumer."

— Some billionaire.

But what if we flipped the narrative? What if declining birth rates weren’t a crisis, but an opportunity? What if fewer people on this planet could mean more room for nature to thrive, less strain on our fragile ecosystems, and a chance to reimagine how we live — not as relentless consumers, but as mere parts of a far more complex ecological system?

The good ‘ole overpopulation vs. overconsumption argument

There’s a common counterargument that often arises when discussing population: overpopulation isn’t the real problem; overconsumption is. And it’s true — wealthy nations consume the lion’s share of resources and emit the majority of greenhouse gases. The carbon footprint of a child born in the United States far outweighs that of a child born in India or Nigeria. But this argument, while valid, ignores a crucial point: both overpopulation and overconsumption can be true at the same time.

The planet is finite. Its ecosystems are delicate, its resources limited. Adding billions more people to the mix, particularly as developing nations strive toward Western levels of consumption, isn’t just unsustainable — it’s catastrophic. We are already witnessing the strain: deforestation, water shortages, mass extinctions, and the slow-motion collapse of the systems that sustain life. Population growth, even in regions where per capita consumption is low, amplifies these pressures. Yes, we have to look at Western consumption first; also yes, adding more consumption is not a good thing.

According to the United Nations, the global population reached 8 billion in 2022 and is projected to peak at around 10.4 billion by the end of the century. Even at current levels, humanity is consuming around 1.7 times the Earth’s biocapacity annually. In simpler terms, we’re living on ecological credit, borrowing against a future that might not exist. Declining birth rates could be a lifeline — a chance to reduce humanity’s ecological footprint before it’s too late.

Photo by Johnny McKane

A very crowded planet

Even here in Austria (yep, that’s where I live), where the landscapes are dotted with villages and framed by majestic mountains, the pressure of overpopulation is palpable. The cities are teeming, the highways choked, the quiet corners of nature shrinking. On a sunny weekend, it feels like half the country descends upon the same lakes and hiking trails. And this is Austria — a relatively small, affluent country with a stable yet rising population. Now imagine the chaos in places like India, where overcrowding has reached apocalyptic levels.

Take the infamous viral videos of Indian trains, with passengers clinging to every surface, packed like sardines both inside and out. It’s a stark visual metaphor for a world pushed beyond its limits. In India, where the population exceeds 1.42 billion, the strain on infrastructure, resources, and basic human dignity is unbearable. And it’s not just India — countries across Africa, Southeast Asia, and Latin America face similar challenges, with rapid population growth compounding poverty, environmental degradation, and political instability. This all is not meant in a derogatory way whatsoever, no, it’s a daily fact and nightmare for millions and billions of people. (Check out the India subreddit for many, many examples of people trying to leave their homeland due to overpopulation.)

For those of us in more affluent nations, it’s easy to moralize about the importance of population growth while enjoying the comforts of stable systems. But the truth is, even here, the cracks are showing. The more people there are, the harder it becomes to ensure access to housing, healthcare, and green spaces. The more we encroach on the natural world, the more we lose — not just in terms of biodiversity, but in terms of our own quality of life.

Fewer people, better lives

Declining birth rates are often framed as a harbinger of economic collapse. But what if they’re actually a pathway to a better future? Fewer people mean less strain on resources, less competition for jobs and housing, and more room for nature to thrive. It’s an opportunity to rethink how we structure our societies — not around the relentless pursuit of growth, but around the well-being of individuals and communities.

Before we even consider the need for more people, we should focus on making life better for those who, well, already exist. Across the globe, billions of people struggle to meet their basic needs: clean water, adequate food, shelter, and access to healthcare and education. In wealthy nations, inequality continues to rise, with a small elite hoarding wealth while millions live paycheck to paycheck. What sense does it make to bring more people into a world so fraught with suffering when we’ve yet to solve the problems we already face?

"No society can legitimately call itself civilized if a sick person is denied medical aid because of lack of means."

— Aneurin Bevan

We should be pouring resources into building more egalitarian systems, reducing inequality, and ensuring that everyone — not just the privileged few — can live a life of dignity and purpose. A world where fewer people live better, more fulfilling lives is infinitely preferable to one where an ever-growing population fights over diminishing scraps in the heat-scorched dust bowls of this world. Declining birth rates offer us the breathing room to address these systemic issues, to create societies that prioritize human well-being over profit, and to reimagine what progress looks like.

Degrowth economics offers a vision of this future. By scaling back resource use and prioritizing sustainability over profits, we could create a world where fewer people live better lives. Imagine a society where the focus isn’t on maximizing output, but on maximizing happiness. A society where people work fewer hours, spend more time with loved ones, and live in relative harmony with the planet (if that’s even possible).

But here’s the catch: degrowth requires fewer people. It’s impossible to reduce humanity’s ecological footprint while adding billions more to the mix. Declining birth rates aren’t just compatible with a sustainable future — they’re essential to it.

Climate change, yes

If climate change is the defining crisis of our time, then population growth is its silent accelerant. Every new person born — no matter where they are born — adds to the demand for energy, food, and water. Every new person contributes to deforestation, habitat destruction, and the relentless march of urban sprawl.

Photo by Gabriel Kuettel

According to a 2020 study published in Environmental Research Letters, reducing population growth through declining birth rates could prevent billions of tons of CO2 emissions by 2100. The researchers found that slowing population growth is one of the most effective ways to mitigate climate change — more effective, in many cases, than transitioning to renewable energy or improving energy efficiency.

And yet, the narrative persists: we need more people. To prop up pensions. To fill factories. To keep the gears of industry turning. But the truth is, we don’t need more people. We need fewer people, living better lives, on a planet that isn’t groaning under the weight of our existence.

A personal choice — and a political one

For many people, the decision to have children is deeply personal. It’s about love, legacy, egotism, saving a failing marriage, and — sometimes — the hope for a better future. But in a world teetering on the edge of climate catastrophe, it’s also a political choice. Every new child represents a new strain on the planet — a new set of needs, desires, and emissions. For some, this realization is enough to tip the scales against parenthood.

But there’s another side to this story: the relentless pressures that make parenting increasingly unappealing. In many countries, the cost of raising a child has skyrocketed, while social safety nets have withered. Parenting, once a communal effort, has become an isolating, all-consuming job. And for what? To bring a child into a world where wildfires rage, oceans rise, and the very air we breathe grows toxic? (Talking to you, microplastics in my brain.)

It’s no wonder fewer people are choosing to have children. And instead of lamenting this trend, we should embrace it as a sign of progress — a sign that humanity is finally confronting the limits of its own existence. A primal biological reaction to worsening external factors perhaps? The more educated a populace, the fewer children they have — oh, why could that be?

An opportunity to change

The decline in birth rates isn’t the fall of civilization — it’s an opportunity to save it. To break free from all those fucking hamster wheels. To build a future where fewer people live more fulfilling lives, in relative balance with the Earth and its ecosystems.

Perhaps Elon Musk and his buddies in high positions should take a moment to reconsider what they’re really advocating for when they bemoan declining birth rates. Is it truly about humanity’s future? Or is it about preserving the status quo?

Declining birth rates are not a crisis. They are a chance — a rare and fleeting opportunity to rethink what it means to be human. To leave behind the chaos of overpopulation and overconsumption and move toward a world that’s not just survivable, but — one dares dream — beautiful.

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