## Chapter 2

Thesis: anti-apocalyptic criticism of R mis-diagnoses the problem.

6. The effect on R's audience now is a spiralling cycle of despair
7. This has led some critics to blame apocalypticism for the failure of R
8. This is a traditional criticism of apocalypticism 'from above'
9. Apocalypse 'from below' has often worked very differently
10. This difference is due to the different interests of the readers -- a
    difference which does not apply in the case of green crises
11. In fact, apocalypse can meet the critic's concerns in principle
12. (In order to do so in practice, those with power need to attack the
    structures which drive the downward spiral)

Catastrophe is prominent literary feature of contemporary green rhetoric. The
word 'catastrophe' first entered English through early modern translations of
Greek plays, meaning the denouement of a plot. Through association with
tragedies, it came to acquire connotations of disaster, and in the nineteenth
century, became closely associated with the (now antiquated) 'catastrophic'
theory of geological time, according to which distinct geological epochs were
divided by sudden cataclysmic events. [@oed-catastrophe]

Anti-nuclear campaigners used the word 'catastrophe' to describe the effects of
a nuclear war, echoing this model of geological time, suggesting that a nuclear
war would have such severe, irreversible consequences that it would represent
the next great cataclysm in geological time \[EVIDENCE\].

Whether or not green rhetors explicitly use the word 'catastrophe,' they often
imply a catastrophic model of the problems they present. When Extinction
Rebellion took to the streets of the UK in 2018, this was their message:

> The science is clear – we are in the sixth mass extinction event and we will
> face catastrophe if we do not act swiftly and robustly. [@xr-declaration]

The phrase 'sixth mass extinction event' categorises the present green crisis
alongside the traditional 'big five' mass extinction events of geological
history [@eb-extinctions], remnants of the catastrophic theory of geological
time. Their 'Declaration of Rebellion' used the word 'catastrophe' twice,
alongside words such as 'cataclysmic,' 'destruction,' 'crises,' 'dying planet,'
and 'uninhabitable' to reinforce the image.

Similarly, Greta Thunberg favours an imminent, catastrophic model of climate
change:

> \[FIND QUOTE\]

Catastrophic models of ecological futures are so dominant, that it can be hard
to imagine any other kind of story. This is eloquently demonstrated by the
novelist, Charles Foster, who set himself the challenge to 'reignite' his
readers' imaginations:

> I don't believe in climate change. \[…\] 'Yes, it's very bad. Yes, we're all
> going to die. Pass the salt, please. How's your homework going, Rachel?' \[…\]
> This exhaustion of our intellect, our compassion and our capacity for alarm
> is desperately dangerous. Only imagination can reignite them. And only story
> \[…\] can do the necessary imaginative job. We're dying for want of a story.
> \[FIND PAGE NUMBERS\]

The result was _Cry of the Wild_, a short story collection. One of those stories
follows a fictional orca called Eeschin as she lives through the extinction of
her pod due to marine pollution. The denouement of the story sees Eeschin
swimming alone, the last of her clan, unable and unwilling to adopt a new clan,
facing with courage her grief and her own inevitable death. Even a talented
writer such as Foster, intentionally seeking to break new imaginative ground for
conceptualising green crises, seems unable to escape the motif of catastrophe.

Famously, the Apocalypse of St John prominently features cataclysmic events,
beginning with the opening of the first of the seven seals in chapter 6,
unleashing the notorious 'Four Horsemen.' Catastrophe can be considered an
apocalyptic literary feature. \[NEEDS MORE WORK\]

Recently, academics examining green rhetoric have raised concerns with this
catastrophism.

It has been claimed green catastrophism is fatalistic: that the catastrophe is
implicitly inevitable, thus encouraging despair over hope and therefore mere
ritual over action. To be sure, most green rhetors do not explicitly say this;
rather, they tend to say the very opposite, that it is not too late to avert the
catastrophe: that's why we have to act now! The problem is not that green
rhetors _assert_ that the catastrophe is inevitable, but that inevitability is
one of those symbols packaged together with the symbols of 'catastrophe,' and
indeed 'apocalypse.'

Part of this is due to the geological connotations of 'catastrophe.'
Paleontologists speculate about the causes of historic mass extinctions:
volcanic eruptions, asteroid strikes, cyclical climate fluctuations gone rogue?
One thing's for sure, there's nothing the dinosaurs could have done to stop it.

'Apocalypse' is also a fatalistic concept. This fatalism is obvious whenever
someone counts the days til doomsday. This begins with the prophet Daniel, who
reports that 'seventy weeks are determined upon thy people and thy holy city, to
finish the transgression' (Dan 9:24) and that 'from the time that the daily
sacrifice shall be taken away, and the abomination that maketh desolate set up,
there shall be a thousand two hundred and ninety days.' \[MORE DEMONSTRATION OF
FATALIST MILLENIALISM\]

\[EXAMPLE OF SCHOLAR SAYING THAT APOCALYPSE/CATASTROPHE IS FATALIST\]

A fatalistic outlook may, at best, lead to what Kvandal & Levy call
'ritualistic' behaviours: 'behaviours characterized by rigidity, compulsion, and
goal demotion.' [@kvandal-2025] That is, people feel compelled to act in rigidly
specific ways, even though they don't have a clear grasp on the practical
outcomes of their behaviour. Calling on the cognitive science of religion, the
authors assert that 'there is a general consensus that human beings tend to
ritualize more of their behavior when they lose agency under conditions of
stress, uncertainty, or hazards more generally.' They note the example of Greta
Thunberg sailing across the Atlantic in a zero-carbon vessel to speak at the
United Nations. The huge effort involved in that act seems disproportionate to
the small impact had on greenhouse gas emissions. The authors also raise
examples of civil disobedience motivated by climate pessimism. Fatalism might
lead to politically productive behaviours. But the fact that ritualistic
behaviours are severed from practical outcomes makes it a pretty bad bet:

> By not allowing for hope that the world can be salvaged, this form of social
> activism provides outlets in which activists alleviate anxiety by obtaining a
> (simulated) sense of agency in the face of an uncontrollable threat.
> [@kvandal-2025, p. 701]

Action directed at making you feel better might lead to change in your own life,
but it is not necessarily going to solve the problem that made you feel anxious
in the first place. Juli Gittinger has shown that fatalistic climate narratives
have driven some people in the US to join the 'prepper' movement, accumulating
stockpiles of essential goods, building emergency shelters, learning 'survival
skills,' and collecting weapons to defend your family's patch from desperate
outsiders. [@american-apocalyptic, see esp. chp. 3, 4] 'Prepper' culture (which
owes its existence to Cold War fears of all-out nuclear war
[@american-apocalyptic, pp. 48-56]) might be a minority pursuit, but it is a
response to the same apocalyptic storytelling which is a widespread phenomenon
in mainstream American media:

> The theme of _impending catastrophe_ \[…\] frames the news story
> as more apocalyptic and therefore often becomes more sensationalized or highly
> panic-driven. Add social media to this mix – where experts are often ignored
> in favor of more polemic non-experts – and risk perception increases. Oddly
> enough, impending catastrophe is less likely to alter behavior, instead
> inspiring feelings of futility: we’re doomed, so why bother. Repeated exposure
> to doomsday predictions can prevent us from taking action because ultimately
> the effect of apocalyptic thinking generates a fear of existential threats
> that are beyond our control – and thus unpreventable. [@american-apocalyptic, p. 60]

Green catastrophism may have political implications, too. It has been argued
that implicit in the catastrophist narrative is the assumption that everything
was going well until the catastrophe loomed its ugly head. This suggests that
'business as usual' is alright, and therefore obscures the need for a radical
critique of the business-as-usual political get-up which produces massive
destruction.

Christiana Figueres and Tom Rivett-Carnac provided one demonstration of this
mindset in _The Future We Choose_, which begins with an imaginative description
of two possible futures, one optimistic, one pessimistic. The optimistic vision
described an anthropocene paradise, a vision of how the human project to
transcend materiality might be finally accomplished by continuing technological
progress. To take the comments on energy, for example:

> In some ways, breaking up grids and decentralising power proved easy. We no
> longer burn fossil fuels. There is some nuclear energy in those countries that
> can afford the expensive technology, but most of our energy now comes from
> renewable sources like wind, solar, geothermal, and hydro. \[…\] Because there
> is no combustion cost, energy is basically free. It is also more abundant and
> more efficiently used than ever. Smart tech prevents unnecessary energy
> consumption, as artificial inteligence units switch off appliances and
> machines when not in use. The efficiency of the system means that, with a few
> exceptions, our quality of life has not suffered. In many respects, it has
> improved. [@future-we-choose, chp. 3]

This vision of the good life promotes the idea of technological progress driving
increasing living standards, a rising tide lifting all boats. This narrative
perpetuates the idea that more efficient technology can deliver a free lunch,
while ignoring the fact that modern technological progress led to increased
exploitation of workers and of nature. It accepts that the Earth has been
domesticated, and advocates for the Earth to be domesticated even more. As
Eileen Crist, discussing Anthropocene discourse, puts it:

> The very concept of the Anthropocene crystallizes human dominion, corralling
> the already-pliable-in-that-direction human mind into viewing our master
> identity as manifestly destined, quasi-natural, and sort of awesome. The
> Anthropocene accepts the humanization of Earth as reality, even though this is
> still contestable, partially reversible, and worth of resistance and of
> inspiring a different vision. [@poverty-nomenclature, p. 25]

It gets worse for the catastrophist. Perhaps the most vicious criticism of green
catastrophism is that by leaning on 'Anthropocene' discourses, green rhetors
flatten out social relationships. This, say the critics, is the death of all
genuine politics. \[EXAMPLES\]

In fact, the Apocalypse of St John is very different from catastrophism.

For St John, there is no impending catastrophe that his audience can avert. The
tribulations have already begun, and are largely in the hands of cosmic forces
far bigger than his audience. The exhortation is not to avert the bad thing, but
to endure it.

St John uses mythological language to place the present tribulations of his
community in a cosmic and eschatological context. This is how the call to endure
can make sense to his audience. In contrast, mere catastrophism does not do
this, and may even emphasise the meaninglessness of individual action.

John's apocalyptic imagination uses mythological language to reveal the world of
appearances for what it really is. The ideology of Empire is a pretender God,
and the suffering of the martyrs is in fact God's way of conquering evil. John
may have created a crisis for a people that didn't see one, a people that needed
'waking up'. So, while catastrophism imagines that all humanity approaches the
catastrophe more or less from the same perspective, and thus works to kill
politics, John's apocalyptic imagination imagines precisely the opposite: he
enlivens political criticism and active resistance to dominant structures by
identifying how people relate unequally to them.

So people today, when they equate apocalypticism with catastrophism, are cutting
out most of the apocalyptic imagination and distorting its message. This is now
new. This is a very traditional move which functions to shut down radical
dissent against dominant structures.

Meanwhile, those who have read the Apocalypse 'from below' tend to emphasise how
it has a visionary interpretation of the tribulations of this world, and a
visionary expectation of this world being transformed, and use this vision to
motivate movements for transformational social change.

The apocalyptic form is therefore not the reason that green rhetoric is failing.
As explored in chapter 1, green rhetoric is failing because it is failing to
diagnose the root causes of the problem, present a credible route to a credible
solution, and address an audience that could be persuaded to make a difference.
Were rhetors to solve these problems, they could use apocalyptic effectively.