Before the Pasture Fails: What steppe herders can teach us about adapting well in uncertain world

Written and photographed by Bat-Orgil Bat-Erdene

The ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus is often credited with saying that “the only constant in life is change.” That does not necessarily make change welcome. But it does suggest that resisting it is a losing game, so the real question is how to meet it well. We usually call this adaptation. When something new arrives, we poke at it and explore it until its uncertainties wear off and it stops being new. Then the next change shows up. Adapting quickly, though, is not the same as adapting well. The test of a good adaptation, I would argue, is whether it preserves our ability to adapt again.

Some people have had far more practice at this than others. Pastoral nomadic herders, unlike settled people, are constantly forced to adjust to changes in their physical environment. They scout the next location for opportunities as well as dangers. They make sense of it by building routines and communities. Then they decide whether it is time to move on again. Physical adaptation is not the only kind, but it is the easiest to see, and nomads do it better than anyone. From them we can learn not only why they adapt, but how.

The question feels more urgent now because the world is changing at a pace we have never experienced. The climate crisis. Political and economic systems in flux. Technology that advances faster than we can understand it. Without a way to adapt, we are left with only luck.

Luck matters. Nobody adapts without some. But it cannot be the only thing we have. Mongolia is one of the few countries where a large share of the population, by some estimates close to a third, still lives as pastoral nomads. That is not sheer luck. Geography, land tenure policy, and a culture that places herding at the center of national identity all play a part. Still, in a world where efficiency is the holy grail, pastoral nomadism does not fit the picture. It runs against what modern systems prize: relentless growth, production efficiency, and ownership. Even so, it is slowly giving way to the greater forces.

Go to the steppe today and you may not find the herding life you imagined. Herders use some of the most sophisticated technology humans have ever built, sometimes more than city dwellers do. Hybrid electric vehicles roam the grassland, moving gers and helping herd livestock every day. Starlink connects them to the fastest internet, so they can watch media from around the world and ask AI platforms about almost anything.

This is not a betrayal of tradition, and it is easy to see why herders welcome it. As one herder woman from Govisumber aimag put it, “herders do also want to live a comfortable life just like anybody else in the world.” But by the test above, comfort and efficiency are not enough to call a change a good adaptation. The better question is whether it keeps herders flexible. A vehicle that makes moving camp easier and lets them scout distant pastures strengthens mobility. Connectivity that lets them check weather and prices before deciding where to go widens their options. But if the same tools make it easier to stay put, or if decisions start resting on a screen rather than a reading of the land, technology could erode the very thing it was meant to serve. It all depends on what the tools are used for.

Not every adaptation is a good one. Adapting in a way that harms you and your surroundings is called maladaptation. Take the herders who, facing the climate crisis, stop rotating between seasonal pastures and stay in one place. I understand the logic. If moving no longer promises better grazing, why risk the unknown when you can have stability? But rotation exists for a reason. It gives the grassland time and opportunity to regenerate.

In the short run, staying put protects you from the risks of uncharted territory. In the long run, it may wear down the soil and the grass, and with them a nomad’s greatest strengths, adaptability and resilience. Climate is not the only push. Access to services, schools, and winter shelters, along with competition for land, also draw households toward settling. The pattern repeats: a sensible short-term choice slowly eats away at the long-term capacity to adapt.

The goat makes the same point even louder. When Mongolia moved to a market economy in the 1990s, herders got to own their animals privately and had to make a living by selling them and their products. Cashmere, in booming global demand, was the obvious answer, and adding goats was a sensible way to raise income and hedge against losses in a dzud, the severe winters that can kill millions of livestock overnight. For a while it seemed to work, paying for food, medicine, and children’s schooling. Then it became more of a trap. Mongolia’s goat population has roughly tripled in 20 years, and goats now make up nearly 40% of all livestock. Herders have also clustered near towns and markets, where the damage to the land is greatest. Goats tend to tear grass up by the root rather than clip it, so they strip pastures of the ability to regrow. According to the most recent study, 81.9% of Mongolia’s territory is affected by desertification and land degradation. In 2024, the number of animals exceeded what the land could sustain by roughly 37 million sheep equivalents, according to the national meteorological institute. Yet prices are set abroad, many herders live in debt, and cutting the herd means cutting income. What once bought security has left many herders with less land, less flexibility, and little room to change course.

So what can the rest of us take from all this? I keep coming back to three things.

Move early, not late. The practice of otor, in which herders take their animals to distant pastures during drought or harsh weather, is in most cases anticipatory. They go before the pasture fails, not after, because the cost of moving is usually lower than the cost of waiting.

Adopt new tools without losing the old skills. Herders can use vehicles and Starlink and still know how to read the land, the weather, and the animals. If the tool breaks or conditions change, the knowledge is still there.

And adapt together. Herding communities build routines and networks that share knowledge and risk. That is a burden no single household could carry alone. This is more important now than ever as we’re facing crisis after another globally.

Most of us live in cities, and not on the steppe, and what we face looks different from what a herder faces. But the bigger question hangs over all of us: can we adapt to what is coming without losing our ability to adapt again? Can we adapt to living in sweltering heat? To a world where lifeless drones decide whether people live or die? To an economy where our labor and skills are no longer valued?

The lessons apply here too. Move early: leave a career with no future, or a city that is becoming unlivable, before the pasture fails rather than after. Keep the old skills: use AI, but hold on to the judgment and abilities that let us function, and question its decisions, because the machine will inevitably get it wrong, someday. And do not adapt alone. Face these changes through communities, unions, and neighborhoods that share knowledge and risk, because no single household or person can carry them alone.

Most of us will adapt in some fashion, and most of us will survive. The harder question, and I believe the one that matters, is whether we adapt in a way that is good for everyone, or in a way that leaves us less able to adapt next time because who knows what the change is will be like next time.

Change is coming whether we are ready or not. Adapting well is a choice. Herders have been making it for thousands of years, and the rest of us still have time to learn. Before the pasture fails.

References

Diana Kruzman, “Nomad, Inc.”, The Baffler, September 3, 2026.

Aïda Delpuech, Sara Manisera, and Daniela Sala, “’Sustainable’ Cashmere Won’t Save Mongolia’s Steppe”, New Lines Magazine, December 10, 2025.

Ch. Sumyabazar, “COP17: 81.9% of Mongolia’s territory affected by desertification and land degradation”, Peak News, August 18, 2026.