There is a particular quality of vertigo that comes from placing the present moment in geological time. Human civilisation — agriculture, cities, industry, the entire arc from Jericho to the internet — occupies approximately 10,000 years. The dinosaurs ruled for 165 million years. Complex animal life has existed for roughly 540 million years. In that time, the fossil record documents five mass extinctions — events in which the diversity of life was catastrophically reduced and ecosystems took millions of years to recover. The last of these, 66 million years ago, ended the Cretaceous period and eliminated roughly 75% of all species, including every non-avian dinosaur.
Scientists who study extinction rates are now asking a question that would have seemed absurd a century ago: is the sixth mass extinction already underway, driven not by asteroid impact or volcanic paroxysm, but by a single primate species that has been burning fossil fuels and clearing forests for approximately 200 years?
This question is not merely rhetorical. It has specific scientific content — extinction rates can be measured, compared against the geological background, and assessed against the thresholds that geologists use to define mass extinctions. It also has profound geographical content: the current extinction event, if it qualifies as a mass extinction, is geographically unprecedented — every previous mass extinction was global in cause (asteroid impact, volcanic flood basalt, oceanic anoxia) but operated through physical mechanisms. The current event is caused by a species whose geographic distribution of economic activity determines which ecosystems are threatened and which are protected, making it the first mass extinction whose geography is shaped by political economy rather than physics.
Three questions this article must answer
What is the background extinction rate — and how far have we exceeded it?
To evaluate whether a mass extinction is underway, you first need to know what "normal" looks like. The background extinction rate — the "normal" rate of species loss between mass extinctions — is estimated from the fossil record by calculating the average duration of species before they go extinct through natural processes (competition, environmental change, speciation). This background rate is approximately 0.1–1 E/MSY (extinctions per million species years). Put more concretely: for every million species alive at any given time, approximately 0.1–1 would be expected to go extinct in any given year through normal biological processes.
Current extinction rate estimates — calculated from documented extinctions in the IUCN Red List and from modelling of undocumented losses in less-studied taxonomic groups — range from approximately 100 to 1,000 times this background. A 2014 study by Ceballos and colleagues estimated the current rate for vertebrates at 100× background. A 2015 analysis using the most conservative assumptions found rates of at least 8–100× background. Even the most conservative estimates place current rates far outside the normal variation of the fossil record between mass extinctions.
The interactive comparator below allows you to explore each of the five previous mass extinctions — their causes, magnitude, duration, and recovery timescales — alongside the current event, positioned as a genuine comparison. The juxtaposition is deliberately confronting: not to generate paralysis, but to establish the actual scale of what is at stake.
of years
The "biological annihilation" concept — population collapse before species extinction
Species-level extinction is the conventional measure of the sixth mass extinction — a species is counted as gone when its last individual dies. But Gerardo Ceballos and Paul Ehrlich have argued that this metric misses the most ecologically significant dimension of the current crisis: the collapse of populations within species that have not yet gone globally extinct.
A species counted as "not extinct" by the IUCN because some individuals survive in a few isolated populations may have lost 90% of its former geographic range and 99% of its former population size. Its ecosystem function — seed dispersal, pollination, predation, soil disturbance — may already be absent from vast areas. Ceballos et al. (2017) documented that vertebrate species had lost between 30% and 90% of their geographic range since 1900, with the most extreme declines in the tropics. They called this pattern "biological annihilation" — arguing that the living world is suffering population-level losses so severe that ecosystem function is degrading faster than species-level extinction statistics suggest.
For geography, the population concept is more spatially precise than the species concept: a species may persist globally while being functionally absent from the geographic areas where its ecosystem contributions were most important. The geography of population collapse, not just the geography of species extinction, is what conservation planning needs to map.
The thinkers who placed the current crisis in geological time
The evidence — what the data actually show
The honest uncertainty
Scientific honesty requires acknowledging what we do not know as well as what we do. The sixth mass extinction claim rests on several layers of uncertainty that students should be aware of:
The unknown total. We have described approximately 2 million species. Estimates of total species on Earth range from 8 to 15 million. Unknown species cannot be monitored for extinction, and the taxonomic groups with the most species — insects, nematodes, fungi, bacteria — are the least well-studied. The extinction statistics we have are therefore dramatically incomplete, likely underestimating the actual rate of loss.
The detection lag. Species can decline to very low population sizes and persist for decades before final extinction. The extinction crisis we are documenting today likely reflects decisions made 20–50 years ago. The consequences of current habitat destruction will not appear in extinction statistics for decades.
The background rate uncertainty. The fossil record background extinction rate — the denominator against which current rates are compared — is itself uncertain, varying between 0.1 and 1 E/MSY depending on the taxon and geological period studied. A 10× variation in the background rate estimate produces a 10× variation in the magnitude of the current crisis relative to that background. This uncertainty is not a reason to dismiss the crisis — at any plausible background rate, current rates are dramatically elevated — but it is a reason for epistemic humility in stating specific magnitudes.
The Synthesise challenge in B7 is the most demanding in the package — because the question "Are we in a sixth mass extinction?" requires engagement with deep geological time, complex methodological debates, and the relationship between scientific evidence and conservation strategy. The best responses will neither uncritically accept nor dismiss the mass extinction claim, but evaluate it with the precision of a geographer: asking where, at what rate, measured how, and with what implications for action.
The Transfer stage of B7 is different from its predecessors — it looks backward as well as forward. Having traversed the full arc from ecosystem services (B1) to mass extinction (B7), the task here is to understand what that journey means: what geography knows about the biodiversity crisis, what it can contribute to its resolution, and what it cannot determine alone.
Three transfer contexts
Connecting the Package B journey
Geography contributes place: the understanding that the same global processes produce different local outcomes depending on where they occur, who governs those places, and what ecological heritage they carry. A global biodiversity crisis cannot be addressed globally — it must be addressed in the Amazon, in south-western Australia, in the Congo Basin, in the Great Barrier Reef, in the Kwongan heath. Geography is the discipline that insists on that specificity.
Geography contributes scale: the recognition that causes operating at global scale (commodity markets, climate change, trade agreements) produce consequences at local scale (a woodland cleared for cattle, a reef bleached by a warm current), and that interventions must be calibrated to match. Solutions designed at the wrong scale systematically fail — as the location-biased protected area system demonstrates.
Geography contributes interconnection: the understanding that ecosystems, economies, and societies are not separate systems but interlocked ones, and that decisions made in one place — a trade agreement, a dietary choice, an investment — ripple through supply chains, commodity markets, and governance systems to determine what happens to a forest thousands of kilometres away.
And geography contributes urgency grounded in evidence: not the urgency of apocalyptic rhetoric, but the urgency of a discipline that can point to a specific place, a specific rate, a specific trajectory, and say: this is what is happening here, this is why, and this is what can be done. The sixth mass extinction is not inevitable. Its geography is not fixed. And geography — the study of where and why — is indispensable to preventing it from becoming so.