The point is, every era in recorded history seems terrifyingly apocalyptic to those living though it. Indeed, the history of the world can practically be told as the story of people expecting its imminent annihilation. This brings me to the book with which we are concerned today, which is described as follows: “a cross-cultural and cross-temporal study of models of history considered as a class of story. The book tries to do for doomsday what The Hero with a Thousand Faces did for the myth of the hero.”
Reilly begins his survey with the cyclical interpretations of history: the pessimistic German reactionary Oswald Spengler and the comparatively sunny and hopeful Arnold J. Toynbee. From there, he hops down a number of esoteric rabbit holes, examining apocalyptic cults from Münster to Jonestown, various interpretations of the Book of Revelation, and the Aztec conception of the end of the world, all sprinkled with liberal references and comparisons to works of science fiction, both famous and obscure.
If it all sounds a little rambling, well, that’s because it is. Fortunately, Reilly is a cheerful and good-natured narrator, who never takes himself or his subject too seriously. His witty style makes his treatment of what could have been a bleak subject charming to read:
The embarrassing thing about the history in the Bible is that it is all too familiar. There are stupid kings, sneaky women, ungovernable cities, debt-ridden farmers, and a very lively sense that life is intractably irritating. Even God is sometimes unreasonable. He sends bears to eat obnoxious children and a plague to punish a census taking.
He has a way of cutting through the cruft and making the complex and arcane seem straightforward:
It does not take a lot to destroy a civilization. All you have to do is stop making long-term investments, neglect to repair physical plant, and generally stop thinking about the next generation. All these things happened in late antiquity. The terminal apocalypse in the Roman Empire did not provide a framework for millenarian revolt. How can you fight City Hall when it closed years ago?
And his descriptions of people are no less entertaining. For instance, re. Oswald Spengler:
He was the sort of person who could not walk around the corner to buy a paper without seeing signs of cultural decay.
Guys like that are so annoying, right? 😉
Reilly’s style makes the book a breeze to read, even as he is tackling the most weighty of subjects. Another advantage of his easygoing style is that it gives a sense of neutrality. Despite his tackling political philosophies, I can’t really say with certainty whether he leans left or right. And despite some fairly deep dives into esoteric Jewish and Christian theology, from his attitude, he could have been Christian, Jewish, something else, or atheist. (I know the answer now, from reading the “About the Author” section afterward, but there was nothing definite in the main text.)
The most interesting parts of the book come close to the end, as Reilly examines the ideas of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, a Jesuit scholar who developed the concept of the noösphere. What’s that, you ask? Well, that’s why we have Wikipedia:
[T]he noosphere emerges through and is constituted by the interaction of human minds. The noosphere has grown in step with the organization of the human mass in relation to itself as it populates the Earth. As mankind organizes itself in more complex social networks, the higher the noosphere will grow in awareness. This concept extends Teilhard’s Law of Complexity/Consciousness, the law describing the nature of evolution in the universe. Teilhard argued the noosphere is growing towards an even greater integration and unification, culminating in the Omega Point – an apex of thought/consciousness – which he saw as the goal of history.
Reilly is quick to point out the remarkable similarity of this concept to the central idea of Arthur C. Clarke’s 1953 novel Childhood’s End, and given how prescient that book was regarding other developments… well, it gives one pause, to say the least. Even Reilly’s considerable sang-froid seems a little shaken when confronting the implications of this.
Still, Teilhard’s ideas are only one of innumerable conceptions about how the world will end. And as Reilly reminds us, there are many different ways to even define what “world-ending” means. As he notes, for the Aztecs, the world effectively did end in the 1500s, much as their own religious beliefs suggested it would. For them, it was the apocalypse. For the Spanish, it was the Golden Age. It’s all relative, man!
A final question to ponder before we wrap this up: as Reilly demonstrates, most cultures and religions have the idea that the world will end. When or how is a subject of some discussion, but they all seem to agree it will. Which makes sense, as the most widely-observed truism in the world is that this, too, shall pass away. And I’ll admit, this seems a bit sad.
On the other hand, though, I wonder if the idea of an ending is itself a kind of comfort. After all, what would be the alternative? Waiting for Godot?
Estragon: “I can’t go on like this.”
Vladimir: “That’s what you think!”
Or, to bring Arthur C. Clarke into the story again, let me paraphrase him: “There are two possibilities: either the world will end, or it will not. Both are equally terrifying.”
That’s a little too downbeat. On second thought, let me conclude with a quote about The End from another great British science-fiction author:
There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.
There is another theory which states that this has already happened.