The end of the world as we know it…

On Quora, there are a lot of interesting responses to this question: Pandemics: If society started collapsing due to a global pandemic killing more than half of the world’s population within a year or two, what would you do when you realized what was really happening? – Quora. There are a number of detailed, well-thought-out answers that represent a gamut of responses to a cataclysmic event.

With all the apocalyptic literature I read, I of course have thought about what I would do if society started collapsing around me. I have seen many scenarios presented in books, most of them not at all appealing. Women, in particular, have a tough time in these situations. Very few of these books show people cooperating to try to rebuild society, or at least help each other get through the crisis. Although that may be the most likely scenario, it doesn’t make for a very exciting story.

One aspect I think we overlook about post-collapse survival is how much work it would be. We really don’t have any idea anymore how much labor is involved just in producing enough food to sustain us through a year, for instance. The last post-apocalyptic book I read, Into the Forest by Jean Hegland, gave a good accounting of the work involved in raising a garden, canning food, keeping out pests and gathering wild plants. Sometimes people seem to fantasize about the collapse of society enabling them to live a simpler life and return to the land, but I don’t think they take into account the never-ending drudgery of it. That’s why we invented all these machines and systems in the first place.

I personally think society would only collapse in an absolute worst-case scenario, such as all-out nuclear war. Based on history, people tend to pick up the pieces and keep progressing. The Black Death, for instance, was a major catastrophic event, but Europe survived it and even thrived afterward.

Today, I think we would turn to the very things that we fear oppress us in order to save us: science and technology. We have the ability to use science to understand the world around us and develop technological solutions to fill our needs. We won’t lose that if there were a global pandemic or some other catastrophe. There may be a period of chaos, but I believe it would be temporary. Unless we somehow wipe ourselves out completely, I think we humans will continue to move forward.

Read what other people think on Quora.

We heart (destroying) New York…

This is an interesting article, but I think it misses some important points about why moviemakers and writers love to destroy New York City. As one commenter points out, New York is a symbol of not only American power but of human achievement. Destroying one of our greatest cities symbolically resets civilization back to zero.

But New York is also a great setting for an apocalypse from a storyteller’s point of view. Any survivors are going to be believably diverse in terms of age, education, class, ethnicity, etc., so you have a lot of choices when it comes to characters. A destroyed NYC is going to be scary, eerie and hazardous, but it’s not going to be that hard to find the basics, such as food, clothing and equipment. And getting off the island is an adventure in itself. I always go back to one of the scariest scenes in fiction, Larry Underwood making his way through a Lincoln Tunnel full of cars and corpses in The Stand. The movies Escape From New York and The Dark Knight Rises capitalize on the difficulties in escaping the city, which allows for much more tension than an apocalypse in Los Angeles or Chicago, where you can simply drive away. 

Read: Big Apple Apocalypse: 200 Years of Destroying New York City | Paleofuture.

2012: The Next Doomsday

National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City...

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A recent re-watching of the movie 2012 left me wanting to delve more into this propitious date. Next year — specifically December 21, 2012 — has been named as the next date of the apocalypse, or perhaps a worldwide spiritual awakening. NASA and CERN have both stated that the world definitely won’t end in 2012, but what do they know?

The source of this particular apocalyptic prophecy is the ancient Mayans. On December 21, 2012, the 5,125-year-long cycle in the Mayan calendar known as the Long Count comes to a close. The Mayans used a cyclic calendar, like we do. When it comes to the end of a cycle, the calendar flips over and begins again. It doesn’t stop, and archaeologists can find no evidence suggesting that the Mayans believed the world would end on that date, or that anything at all momentous would happen.

But modern-day spiritualists, prophesiers and doomsayers have latched onto the end of the Mayan’s calendar cycle as significant, imbuing the Mayans with greater predictive and scientific powers than they possessed. The ancient Mayan civilization, which reached its height between 25AD and 900AD, was a highly advanced one, though. It had the only known written language of the pre-Columbian Americas and had made significant achievements in art, architecture, mathematics and astronomy.

The Mayan civilization eventually collapsed, although it did not disappear; there are Mayans living in Central America and Mexico today. However, the Maya had abandoned their great cities by the 10th century. There is no universally accepted theory for why this collapse happened, although the cause is likely environmental, such as a decades-long drought or other climate change. Other factors, such as foreign invasion or internal revolt, may have played a part. The last independent Mayan city-state was conquered by the Spanish in 1697. If only the Mayans had been able to predict their own collapse or the Spanish colonization, that would have been much more relevant to their world than what may happen centuries in the future.

We humans routinely assign doomsday to a specific date. The turning of the millennium always invites such predictions, and most of us can remember the hype that built up around Y2K. Similar dire predictions were made when the year 1000 was reached. Other dates have also taken on significance for one reason or another, but so far, doomsday hasn’t come.

This time, the predictions focus on several unlikely scenarios. The Earth may collide with a passing planet or black hole. The planets in the solar system may align, causing a shift in the Earth’s polar axis. Or unusual solar activity may cause worldwide havoc. Simple astronomical observation can (and has) refute all of these predictions.

In the 1970s-1990s, the end of the Mayan Long Count was actually predicted to be a positive event, a transition from one world age to another, and therefore a time for transformation and spiritual growth. I guess it all depends on whether your spiritual glass is half-empty or half-full. I predict that we’ll muddle on, much as we always have, and NASA backs me up on that.

Personally, I think the 2012 hoopla should have ended with Roland Emmerich’s highly improbable movie. No one else, not even a rogue planet or black hole, would destroy the Earth with such glee.

We have to keep in mind that calendars, as prophetic as they may seem, are merely human inventions. The universe is not obligated to live by them or provide an apocalypse on our timetable. Just as our calendar begins with a date that is culturally significant to us — the birth of Jesus Christ — so the Mayan calendar began with a significant date for them — the creation of the present world order. However, these dates are significant only to people, not to planets or the sun, for which 5,125 years is but a blip.

Here is a summary of the 2012 predictions and why they won’t come true from Sky & Telescope magazine (PDF).

Apocalypse as Revelation: Will You Look Away?

Author Junot Díaz has a powerful essay in Boston Review: Apocalypse (Haiti, Japan, earthquake, tsunami).

Díaz analyzes “mini-apocalypses,” in particular, the Haitian earthquake, which was certainly apocalyptic for the country of Haiti. He seizes upon the definition of apocalypse as a revelation. When things fall apart, he argues, the aspects of society that we normally try to hide are exposed. What comes to light are inequalities, injustices, patterns of corruption. An apocalypse can thus be a cleansing, transformative event, if allowed. “In a dark time, the eye begins to see.” Becoming “ruin-readers,” as Díaz calls this process, may save our lives.

Hurricane Katrina, another mini-apocalypse, revealed America’s Third World. The Haitian earthquake revealed a place desperate beyond imagining. Yet what the apocalypse reveals, we naturally seek to evade. We blame the disaster on God or nature or the victims themselves. Díaz argues that natural disasters are often actually social disasters. When our actions devastate the natural world, we significantly reduce our protection from such natural disasters as tsunamis and hurricanes. Are we transforming our planet into Haiti? Both Díaz and I fear that we are.

Díaz hopes that it will not take many more such mini-apocalypses for us to see and then, more crucially, to act. I don’t feel so optimistic. Haiti, like Katrina and the Asian tsunami, has largely disappeared from the public discourse. Many powerful and ordinary people alike refuse to acknowledge that climate change is real, it is caused by human activity, and it has the potential to be the greatest social natural disaster of all. Let’s hope that our situation is not fiction come to fruition: that those who finally see are a small band of survivors after it’s far too late to do anything to avert or mitigate the catastrophe.

Apocalypse vs. Dystopia: Some Definitions

Cover of "The Children Of Men"

Cover of The Children Of Men

I have noticed that two sub-genres frequently get confused: the dystopian story and the post-apocalyptic story. While these two areas of future storytelling may overlap, they don’t mean the same thing at all. So let’s define some terms, shall we?

We’ll begin with apocalypse. An apocalyptic story is one that depicts the end of modern human civilization as we know it, usually due to some cataclysmic event. A nuclear war, a meteor impacting the Earth, a zombie uprising, a 99 percent fatal epidemic — all of these things can usher in the apocalypse. A post-apocalyptic story concerns itself with what happens after that apocalyptic event, whether immediately following it or far, far in the future.

Often what happens is the rise of new societies. These societies may sometimes be dystopias. A dystopia is the opposite of a utopian society. Utopias are pretty much perfect, providing for the needs of all of their citizens. Dystopias, on the other hand, are usually oppressive, totalitarian and violent.

Utopian and dystopian societies do not have to arise out of an apocalyptic event, however. 1984 and Brave New World are both classics of the dystopian sub-genre that do not depict an apocalypse. Or take, for example, The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, which is often mis-classified as post-apocalyptic. In that novel, a fundamentalist Christian group overthrows the current government and establishes a totalitarian society that enslaves women. Although environmental degradation has caused widespread infertility, no true apocalypse takes place. In fact, the primary point of view of the novel is of a future society looking back on this time in history.

Compare that with The Children of Men by P.D. James (or the movie based on it). In that case, although the apocalypse has not yet occurred, it is anticipated, because every person has lost the ability to reproduce and no children have been born in a generation. The novel could even be classified as pre-apocalyptic in that sense. This situation has directly created a dystopian government, which took power to enforce order on the growing chaos and anarchy occurring ahead of the apocalypse. So The Children of Men is an apocalyptic novel, whereas The Handmaid’s Tale is not, even though the subject matter is similar.

Sometimes the dystopian society is the cause of the apocalyptic event. This is the case in Margaret Atwood’s companion novels Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood. The futuristic society she depicts is overwhelmingly consumerist, with a huge gap between rich and poor. One character takes it upon himself to engineer a virus to wipe out humankind and start all over again from scratch.

While I enjoy dystopian novels of all kinds, I am most interested in those dystopias that directly arise from an apocalyptic event. There are numerous examples of these, which may be why the two terms are so often confused. One I recently finished reading was The Gate to Women’s Country by Sheri S. Tepper. After a devastating war, a society of walled cities based on ancient Greece arose. The cities are governed by women, while the men are forced to live outside the city walls as soldiers. Another good example is Where Late the Sweet Birds Sang by Kate Wilhelm, where the human survivors rely on cloning to reproduce. The cloned generations gradually change, losing their individuality and other essential human qualities, and oppressing anyone who differs from the norm.

Or if it’s a post-apocalyptic utopia you’re looking for, you might try Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin. Set in the far future California, it depicts an agrarian, idyllic society. Although they have access to technology — computer networks that survived the pre-apocalyptic civilization record their stories and occasionally provide information — they maintain an pre-Industrial Age way of life. Such an idealized lifestyle certainly seems unattainable without an apocalypse to first wipe the slate clean and allow us to start all over — and do it right this time.

What Would You Do?

Filmmakers sought to implement bleak scenery a...

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In most post-apocalyptic stories, there comes a time when one or more of the characters — usually minor ones — opt to take the “easy way out.” Suicide, in other words. This seems only natural. When faced with an uncertain future filled with terror, hunger and the constant possibility of a violent, painful death, suicide seems like a viable option. Except in the stories, it’s not intended to be one. The characters who opt for suicide are not the ones we’re supposed to identify with.

But I do. When I read The Road, the character I most identified with was the wife, who took a gun and walked off into the woods rather than continue to live in the charred cinder that was once her world. In The Passage, a couple waits until their children are old enough to take care of themselves before opting out of their brutal lives spent worrying about vampire invasions every second. And on the season 1 finale of The Walking Dead television series, the characters are given a choice: quick, painless death by explosion or go back into the zombie-infested wasteland with only the things they are carrying. I know what I’d pick.

But then again, I am not a survivalist. I don’t stock up on toilet paper or spend my weekends practicing my crossbow skills. I freely admit that I enjoy the creature comforts of the 21st century. Who knows what any of us would choose to do when thrust into extreme circumstances like that? We haven’t really had to test our ingrained survival instinct.

Or our sense of hope. For that’s what the characters who choose to go on represent: hope. What was left in Pandora’s box after the ills of the world escape. Hope that there is something better ahead — if not for us, then at least for those who come after us — is what motivates us to keep on struggling even in the most extraordinary situations. Hope is what inspires us that no matter how bad things get, we can find a way. Hope is our humanity.

And hope is the essence of what many of these post-apocalyptic stories we tell ourselves are really all about.

The Cycle of Collapse

Diamond says Easter Island provides the best h...

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The “apocalypse” can refer to the end of the natural world, but it usually doesn’t — at least, not in the stories we are constantly telling about it. After the world literally ends, there’s not much left to say, is there? In fact, I can only think of two examples off the top of my head of this kind of “last days” story in fiction, when all life ceases to be: On the Beach by Nevil Shute, in which radioactive fallout from a devastating nuclear war kills all animal life on Earth; and Last Night, a film about the Earth’s last six hours before it is destroyed by either a meteor or the sun going supernova (the movie doesn’t specify). In both cases, the story is about how the characters, who know the end is coming, deal with that knowledge and live out their last days. (There is a whole sub-genre of “dying Earth” stories, as well, but these are typically set far in the future and depict a gradual end, rather than an abrupt one.)

More often, apocalyptic stories assume there will be at least a few survivors.  The apocalyptic event is not “the end of the world,” as the cliche goes, but rather the collapse of human civilization due to some catastrophe. Those who do survive must start all over again from zero. Usually, this struggle for survival is what the story is actually about, and the apocalypse is just the means to getting there.

We’ve seen these collapses of civilizations in our history. Examples include the Anasazi of the American Southwest, the Indus civilization, the Mayan civilization and the extremely isolated society on Easter Island. This last example serves as a microcosm of societal collapse due to environmental destruction. Over time, the islanders cut down all the trees on Easter Island. This led to soil erosion, making agriculture more difficult, and with no wood, the islanders could not build boats for fishing. The population plummeted: a mini-apocalypse. (For more on this subject, see the book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed by Jared Diamond.)

In fiction, one of the most memorable portrayals of civilization collapse is in The Mote in God’s Eye, by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. In this case, the civilization is alien, not human. The collapse was always caused by war, brought about by the pressures of overpopulation, and always resulted in total decimation. Survivors rebuilt society, which inevitably led to another collapse. Because the cycle continually repeated itself despite all efforts to prevent it, the aliens became fatalistic and even developed a class of worker whose sole job was to ensure the survival of all knowledge so that civilization could be rebuilt after the next collapse.

The natural world seems to operate on cycles. Day and night, the seasons, the “circle of life,” in which death and decay lead to birth and growth, are all familiar to us. Even the universe itself may be caught in a continual cycle of destruction and rebirth. In human history, we can see how a pattern in how civilizations grow rapidly, reach a zenith, and then either decline or collapse. If an apocalypse does occur, but there are survivors left to start all over again, it seems logical to assume that the cycle would begin again as well, leading to yet another apocalypse. And another. And another. Unless we can find some way to break the cycle, which may mean changing our basic human nature.