Roy Scranton, University of Notre Dame
No one uses “Malthusian” as a compliment. Since 1798, when economist and cleric Thomas Malthus published An Essay on the Principles of Population, the “Malthusian” idea – that humans are subject to natural limits – has been vilified. Today, the term is thrown at anyone who questions the optimism of infinite progress.
Almost everything people think they know about Malthus is wrong. The story goes like this: an English parson argued that population increases at a “geometrical” rate, while food grows “arithmetically.” Divergence leads to catastrophe. But Malthus also identified two factors that reduced reproduction: “preventative checks,” such as moral codes, and “positive checks,” such as poverty, war, disease and pollution. The caricature paints him as a clergyman bad at math who wanted to keep poor people poor so they’d have fewer children.
In truth, Malthus was an innovative thinker. As I argue in my 2025 book Impasse: Climate Change and the Limits of Progress, he helped found environmental economics and prophetically challenged the belief that history inevitably improves.
Raised among dissenters – progressive Protestants – Malthus was taught by radical abolitionist Gilbert Wakefield, while his father admired Enlightenment philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Despite a cleft palate, he excelled at Cambridge in math, history and geography, later securing a parsonage in Wotton, Surrey. His essay, shaped by theology but deeply empirical, drew on population growth in the American Colonies and Britain’s own food shortages in the late 18th century. Between 1750 and 1800, Britain’s population rose nearly 50%, while agriculture lagged. In 1795, hungry Londoners mobbed King George III’s coach demanding bread.
His essay was provoked by a debate about William Godwin – novelist, journalist and father of Mary Shelley. Godwin’s 1793 Enquiry Concerning Political Justice claimed reason could solve all social problems. He envisioned abolishing marriage, redistributing property, eliminating government and even human immortality: “There will be no war, no crimes … no disease, no anguish.”
From his poor parsonage in Wotton, Malthus saw differently. Historian Robert Mayhew describes the region as an industrial wasteland of agrarian poverty, high birth rates and short lives. Studying history, Malthus concluded that societies rose and fell in cycles, not steady progress. Godwin’s utopia didn’t match the evidence.
Malthus aimed to puncture Godwin’s progressivism, not deny all reform. He believed change was limited by natural laws. His essay sought to define those limits so policy could address problems realistically. As a Whig reformer, he advocated free national education, expanded suffrage, abolition of slavery and free medical care for the poor.
Science and industry have since advanced astonishingly. When Malthus wrote, global population was about 800 million; today it exceeds 8 billion. Proponents of progress dismiss natural limits and mock skeptics as “Malthusian.” Yet his central insight – that nature constrains society – endures.
The “Great Acceleration” of the past 80 years may have pushed humanity to the breaking point. Scientists warn that six of nine planetary boundaries for sustainable life have already been exceeded, with a seventh close. Climate change alone threatens agriculture, water, coastlines and human survival.
Malthus could not have foreseen the technologies that fueled growth over two centuries. But his warning about limits has only grown more urgent. As ecological crisis accelerates, it may be time to reconsider what “Malthusian” means – and to accept that we live in a world with limits.
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