Global Warming As "The Long Defeat"

Art by Gemini AI.

 

The previous article in Psyche critiqued the reliance of human beings on narrative to navigate life, calling for us to break our stories down into “perspectives.”  This recent article in Noēma by Pamela Swanigan appears to offer relevance to narrative in the contemporary world with respect of global warming. Marvelously entitled “It's Time To Give Up Hope For A Better Climate And Get Heroic,” the article argues that traditional hope-based rhetoric around climate change and environmental issues is failing to motivate action, and proposes adopting J.R.R. Tolkien's concept of "the long defeat" as a more effective framework.

In doing so, the author absolutely focuses on a perspective, making this in one sense a great example of what the previous article calls for. “The long defeat” certainly has narrative characteristics but it is more so a singular point of view of a much larger narrative Tolkien is telling in his great tale beyond our consideration here. “The heroic struggle against the long defeat” is, indeed, a narrative itself, it transcends Tolkien into the larger literary world.  As a "story" its own perspectives need to be identified, if we follow the article from Psyche. But I want to set that aside for now and look at the story the way it is presented in this article, because its message is important.

Swanigan critiques how environmental writers and activists often rely on messages of hope and optimism, claiming these ring hollow in the face of mounting evidence of ecological collapse. She argues that promises of averting catastrophe through individual actions or spiritual reconnection with nature are unrealistic given the scale and momentum of the crisis.

Instead, she suggests embracing Tolkien's idea of "the long defeat" from his Middle-earth mythology. This framing acknowledges that ultimate defeat may be inevitable, but still calls for heroic struggle and temporary victories. She contends this perspective is more honest about our dire situation while still inspiring courageous action.

The author contends that accepting the likelihood of defeat could paradoxically spur more meaningful responses than clinging to false hope. She draws parallels to how terminal patients often find new reserves of strength and meaning when confronting mortality. Swanigan argues this mindset of "fighting the long defeat" against environmental destruction could tap into humanity's capacity for nobility, sacrifice and grace in the face of overwhelming odds.

Most importantly, Swanigan sees the power of story and mythology as key to motivating action where dry facts and lectures have failed. She calls for new storytellers who can craft an epic, heroic narrative around humanity's struggle against climate change - one that inspires people to "fight the long defeat" and perhaps "make such an end as will be worth a song."

I find this to be a evocative argument, something with which I intuitively connect. My perspective is inclined toward radically shifting environmental messaging away from idealistic optimism toward a kind of heroic fatalism. While controversial, it offers a thoughtful exploration of how framing and narrative could potentially break through psychological barriers to confronting the climate crisis.

The article's title and subtitle are worthy statements in themselves. The title's first part, "It's Time To Give Up Hope For A Better Climate," argues that traditional hope-based rhetoric around climate change is not only ineffective but potentially harmful. Swanigan contends that clinging to unrealistic hopes for averting catastrophe can lead to denial, cognitive dissonance, and paralysis in the face of mounting evidence of ecological collapse. The article suggests that accepting the likelihood of defeat is more honest and potentially more motivating than false optimism.

Swanigan extensively critiques the prevalent use of hope-based rhetoric in climate change and environmental discourse. She argues that this approach, which has been dominant among environmental writers, activists, and thought leaders, is increasingly ineffective and potentially counterproductive.

Swanigan points out that many prominent environmentalists, such as Jane Goodall, David Suzuki, and Rebecca Solnit, continue to frame climate action in terms of hope and optimism. She argues that these messages often rely on unrealistic expectations or oversimplified solutions, such as the idea that individual lifestyle changes or a spiritual reconnection with nature can avert catastrophe.

The author contends that this hopeful messaging conflicts with the increasingly dire scientific consensus on climate change and ecological collapse. She suggests that the disconnect between optimistic rhetoric and grim reality can lead to cognitive dissonance, pushing some people further into denial and others into paralysis.

The second part of the title, "Get Heroic," is embodied in the article's central proposal to adopt Tolkien's concept of "the long defeat" as a framework for climate action. This framing calls for heroic struggle and courage in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Swanigan argues that this mindset can inspire people to fight for meaningful, if temporary, victories even when ultimate defeat seems likely.

Adopting J.R.R. Tolkien's concept of "the long defeat" as a framework for addressing climate change and environmental issues acknowledges that ultimate defeat may be inevitable, but still calls for heroic struggle and the pursuit of temporary victories. This framing, she contends, is more honest about our dire situation while still inspiring courageous action.  

Swanigan draws parallels between this mindset and how terminally ill patients often find new reserves of strength and meaning when confronting mortality. She suggests that accepting the possibility of societal or even species-level "death" could similarly inspire humanity's best qualities.

The subtitle is a statement within itself: "For humanity’s fight against climate change to gain real momentum, we need to find the selfless courage that comes when our time is inevitably nigh." This is reflected in the article's discussion of how terminal patients often find new reserves of strength and meaning when confronting mortality. Swanigan extends this idea to humanity's collective response to the climate crisis, suggesting that accepting our potential demise as a species could paradoxically spur more meaningful and courageous action.

Throughout the article, Swanigan develops the title's core message: that giving up hope for a better climate future doesn't mean giving up action, but rather reframing our efforts in terms of heroic struggle and finding meaning in the fight itself, even if victory is unlikely. This ties directly to the title's call for a shift from hope to heroism in humanity's approach to climate change.

According to the article, "fighting the long defeat" against climate change represents a fundamental shift in perspective and approach compared to traditional hope-based narratives. In approaching climate change with a realistic acknowledgment, we begin by facing an unavoidable truth: given the scale of ecological destruction and our current trajectory, some level of climate loss is likely inescapable. This understanding doesn’t aim to demoralize but to relieve the overwhelming pressure that unrealistic optimism can create. Instead of holding out for a perfect, sweeping solution, this acceptance fosters a grounded starting point, where actions can be taken realistically and more meaningfully.

Finding meaning in the fight offers a transformative way to navigate this daunting path. The goal is not ultimate victory but to uphold the inherent worth of standing up against what is harmful and unsustainable. This shift away from outcome-centered motivation liberates the fight for climate resilience from the confines of quantifiable successes. Instead, it becomes about the courage and the sense of justice inherent in acting for the planet and future generations.

Embracing heroism in this narrative taps into fundamental aspects of the human spirit—courage, sacrifice, and nobility. By emphasizing bravery and purpose over simple hope, the long defeat reframes the climate crisis as a stage for individuals and communities to enact the best aspects of human nature. It transforms the climate struggle into a testament of humanity’s ability to confront immense challenges with integrity and resolve.

Swanigan argues that this perspective is superior to hope-based narratives because it's more honest, potentially more motivating, and better aligned with the scale and nature of the climate crisis. She suggests it could break through psychological barriers that have made traditional climate messaging ineffective, inspiring more meaningful and courageous action even in the face of daunting odds.

In this way climate change becomes a narrative-based teaching moment. It shows the power of narrative in changing human Being. Indeed, Swanigan's argument highlights the profound power of narrative in shaping human perception, motivation, and action, particularly in the context of climate change.

The article essentially proposes a meta-narrative shift (or perhaps a shift in perspective) in how we conceptualize and communicate about climate change. By framing our environmental crisis within Tolkien's "long defeat" narrative, Swanigan suggests we can fundamentally alter how humans relate to and act upon this existential threat.

Within this framework of continued struggle, we see that acknowledgment of likely defeat is not an invitation to inaction. Quite the opposite: it becomes a call to push forward with determined, heroic effort. The focus here shifts from seeking final victory to delaying the worst outcomes as much as possible, enabling meaningful, albeit temporary, victories.

Finding meaning in the fight offers a transformative way to navigate this daunting path. The goal is not ultimate victory but to uphold the inherent worth of standing up against what is harmful and unsustainable. People are drawn not merely by the hope of success but by the nobility embedded in resisting degradation.

By emphasizing bravery and purpose over simple hope, the long defeat reframes the climate crisis as a stage for individuals and communities to enact the best aspects of human nature. Operating with clear-sightedness in the face of overwhelming odds, people are inspired to bold, impactful actions, abandoning false optimism and seizing the opportunity for genuine heroism. It transforms the climate struggle into a testament of humanity’s ability to confront immense challenges with integrity and resolve.

The narrative of collective struggle enables climate action to be seen as part of a shared, heroic journey for humanity, binding people across diverse backgrounds and perspectives into a common cause. By recasting climate change action as a heroic struggle within a grand narrative of "the long defeat," Swanigan proposes to tap into deep wells of human motivation and meaning-making. This narrative approach could potentially transform climate change from an abstract, overwhelming threat into a call for collective heroism and purpose.

This makes climate change a "narrative-based teaching moment." It becomes not just a crisis to be solved, but a story through which humanity can learn about itself, its place in nature, and its capacity for noble action even in the face of likely defeat. Interestingly, this shift in perspective emphasizes the vital role that storytellers, artists, and communicators might play alongside scientists and policymakers in addressing climate change. It suggests that crafting compelling narratives could be as crucial to climate action as developing new technologies or policies.

In answer to the call of the Psyche article which argues that narratives are antiquated ways of interpreting experience this seems to be a fairly powerful argument for the benefits of the human bias for storytelling and, perhaps more importantly, for changing our lives by changing the stories we tell. The power of narrative (perspective?) in shaping human experience and behavior is far from antiquated; rather, it is a fundamental aspect of how we as humans process and interact with the world.

The article's argument for adopting the "long defeat" narrative serves as a compelling case study for the enduring relevance and power of storytelling in human society. It suggests that even (or perhaps especially) in our modern, data-driven world, narratives remain crucial tools for motivating action and shaping our collective response to complex challenges like climate change.

Long-time readers know I am a huge fan of Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings is among my Top 5 novels ever written. I can relate to “the long defeat” in my personal experiences of watching environmental degradation occur in places I have hiked or camped throughout the years and upon my own property of Twin Oaks. While the giant twin oaks still thrive, I have lost numerous large oaks over the past few years due to drought and relentlessly increasing temperatures.

It stays hotter longer these days than it did when we first built our house here in 1993. Meanwhile, hundreds of houses have been built near me over the past 20 years. I have joked before that we used to live in “the middle of nowhere” but now we just live on “the edge of nowhere.” The scales are tipping and the world is changing, globally and locally. I see it. I feel it. It is the same “long defeat” that the elves experienced through the three ages they remained on Middle-earth.

The phrase can be found in “The Mirror of Galadriel” chapter near the end of The Fellowship of the Ring. Galadriel has just learned that the great wizard Gandalf the Grey has apparently succumbed to a Balrog of Morgoth. She laments the loss: “He has dwelt in the West since the days of dawn, and I have dwelt with him years uncounted: for ere the fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin I passed over the mountains and together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat.” (page 462 of my 1975 paperback)

This is the narrative to which Swanigan would have us turn to better address global warming. If it is a narrative unto itself, then I inquire, in acknowledgment of the Psyche article, what are its perspective components? Or perhaps it is not a narrative in the complete sense, but rather and perspective in itself. Which is it?

Looking at how "the long defeat" appears in Tolkien's work, we see it manifested as a recognition that ultimate defeat may be inevitable, but heroic struggle remains worthwhile. This is powerfully exemplified by Galadriel's statement about fighting alongside Gandalf through "ages of the world," and it's deeply embedded within Tolkien's larger mythology of Middle-earth.

I might add that this was Tolkien's personal experience. He fought in the trenches in World War One. In fact, the first sketches “The Fall of Gondolin” were written at this time, literally in the trenches. It was a time when Tolkien ultimately lost two of his closest friends, killed in combat. Another survived the war but was psychologically impaired for life, what we would call PTSD today. Tolkien himself caught yellow fever and was sent home, which may well have saved his life.

And yet his other comrades, beyond his personal friendships, fought on, with millions dead or wounded. This is one example where Tolkien had an deeply existential, almost religious reasons for relating to “the long defeat.” The loss of life is inevitable in times of war.  The world was becoming more industrial against his personal likings.  Indeed it could be said it was part of his passionate Catholicism. Tolkien believed the “fall of man” was a continuing, on-going event through history. He was very bleak that way. “Actually I am a Christian, and indeed a Roman Catholic, so I do not expect 'history' to be anything but a 'long defeat'...” (Letters, page 255)

When I observe the changes on my own property and upon spaces where I have hiked and camped, the loss of ancient oaks, the encroachment of residential development or, in other forms, the expanding footprint of humanity, I experience the long defeat directly in my own way. I have tried to grow and preserve a small wood that makes up most of my land. While many new trees have grown, many old ones have died, all within the past decade or so. Some of this is natural, of course. But much of it is accelerated due to worsening climate conditions.

When I was a child and teen our farm's ponds froze over in the winter time. I could walk across the slippery ice of the ponds without fear of it cracking. Now, they have not frozen in many decades. The change is fundamentally as unmistakable as it is unstoppable. The perspective of "the long defeat" (which I first experienced in reading Tolkien in high school) helps me understand and contextualize these changes, while the larger narrative of environmental struggle gives meaning to my continued efforts at conservation and stewardship. Together, they create a framework for both understanding and action.

Perhaps this is why narrative remains such a powerful force in human society, not as an antiquated relic as presented in the Psyche article but as a vital tool for implementing and communicating perspectives that can change human behavior. The power of Swanigan's argument lies precisely in its recognition that perspectives like "the long defeat" gain their greatest power when embedded within larger narratives that can inspire heroic action in the face of overwhelming odds.

Within Tolkien's work, the long defeat operates as a perspective held by the Elves regarding their gradual decline over many thousands of years. This involves multiple, detailed large-scale narratives – the Music of Creation, the Silmarils, the battles in Beleriand, the children of Húrin, the Rings of Power (butchered by Amazon), and the greatest story Tolkien ever told, of Beren and Lúthien. It's woven into the larger narrative of Middle-earth's transition from the age of magic to the age of men, and it fundamentally informs character motivations and actions throughout the story.

It reflects robust Elven magic before and during the First Age, becoming evermore conflicted in the Second Age, and rapidly fading in the Third Age. The Fourth Age is the first age of men (humanity). The Lord of the Rings concludes with the beginning of the Fourth Age. For the Elves, their road to the end of the Third Age is a very long defeat and retreat back to Valinor. But, obviously, this long defeat is only a tiny part of something bigger Tolkien is telling. It is but a spice in the recipe.

Swanigan's suggestion that we adopt “the long defeat” as a framework for climate actions is both a way of seeing and a way of telling, containing elements of both perspective (a viewpoint on inevitable loss) and narrative (a story of heroic struggle). I find this rather brilliant.

On balance, however, I would argue that "the long defeat" is primarily a perspective that generates and influences one or more narratives, rather than being a complete narrative in itself. As a perspective, it provides a lens through which to view events, shapes interpretation of past and future, influences decision-making and actions, and can be applied to various situations, from Tolkien's Elves to climate change.

While it can generate narratives, “the long defeat” lacks key elements of a complete narrative: there's no defined beginning, middle, and end; no specific characters or events (these come from its application); and no singular plot structure. In fact, Tolkien is using it to describe innumerable stories (other full-fledged narratives) that inhabit The Silmarillion, a lengthy tome I have examined in many posts, of which The Lord of the Rings is covered in the last 3 or 4 pages(!). While there are plenty of narratives in both works, “the long defeat” itself is a way of looking at The Silmarillion, they way Galadriel sees things. So, it is clearly Tolkien's perspective, not his story.

"The long defeat" is better understood as Tolkien's philosophical stance or worldview or personal aesthetic that informs and shapes his narratives. A color in his pallet. When Swanigan proposes using it for climate change, she's essentially suggesting adopting this perspective to generate new narratives about humanity's struggle with global warming (and perhaps other existential crises of our time).

In this way, it's more accurate to say "the long defeat" is a perspective component within larger narratives - whether those are Tolkien's epic tales or proposed new stories about climate action. It provides a framework through which these larger narratives can be constructed and understood.

The tension between narrative and perspective raised by the diverse articles from Psyche and Noēma ultimately reveals something profound about how humans process and act upon complex challenges. While the Psyche article argues for breaking down narratives into perspectives, Swanigan's application of "the long defeat" surprisingly demonstrates how perspectives can function within narratives to create meaningful change in human behavior and understanding. This, of course, was not the intent of her piece at all. Authors don't get to control how their insights are used by the world.

"The long defeat" serves as a perfect case study of the narrative-perspective relationship. It is, at its core, a perspective - a way of seeing and understanding inevitable decline and the value of resistance. Yet this perspective gains its power precisely through its embedding in larger narratives, from Tolkien's epic mythology to Swanigan's proposed reframing of climate action. It is through these narratives that the perspective becomes actionable and meaningful to human beings.

This suggests that the relationship between narrative and perspective is not an either/or proposition, but rather a symbiotic one. This seems obvious once we recall that the Pysche article specially proclaims: “It is our perspectives that generate our narratives.” They provide the philosophical framework through which we interpret events and make decisions, while narratives provide the structure through which these perspectives can be communicated, understood, and acted upon. In the case of climate change, according to Noēma, we need the clear-eyed perspective of "the long defeat" to honestly assess our situation, and we need compelling new narratives to inspire and guide our response to it.

Perhaps the great challenge is we need to learn how to think through perspectives, rather than through stories. It is something we must work on as a species. What I am suggesting is a fundamental challenge in human cognitive evolution. We have indeed relied heavily on narrative as a species - perhaps too heavily - and this may limit our ability to process complex contemporary challenges. Just as we had to develop abstract mathematical thinking to advance our understanding of the physical world, we may need to develop more sophisticated perspective-based thinking to better comprehend and address our contemporary challenges. Part of the continuum, assuming there is one.

I find "the long defeat" particularly illuminating here. While Swanigan presents it through narrative, and while Tolkien embedded it in an epic tale, its real power lies in its perspective elements: the clear-eyed assessment of inevitable decline, the value assigned to resistance despite futility, the framework it provides for understanding gradual loss while maintaining purposeful action, and, perhaps most importantly, it grounds you to the effort, the honorable effort, against defeat. These are sophisticated conceptual tools that don't actually require the narrative framework to function.

Perhaps a perspective-based approach - one that can simultaneously hold multiple viewpoints, acknowledge contradictions, and process non-linear relationships - might be more effective in the Anthropocene than trying to fit this planetary challenge into traditional story structures with heroes, villains, clear resolutions, and glorious victory.

Learning to think through perspectives such as "the long defeat" rather than stories requires a significant cognitive shift. It means developing new mental tools and frameworks, just as we once had to develop abstract mathematical thinking thousands of years ago. This might be uncomfortable - even feel unnatural - given our species' deeply hardwired attachment to narrative. But as our challenges become increasingly complex and interconnected, this evolution in human cognition may be essential.

The next stage in human intellectual development might not be about telling better stories, but about learning to think beyond them altogether. Indeed, if human cognition is still evolving, as I suspect it is, then it is with tiny changes like the theoretical narrative-to-perspective change in basic human thinking and feeling. The perspective of the long defeat is an excellent example of what I call prescient readiness. We do not know the truth about ecological collapse until it happens (or doesn't). But “the long defeat” offers a perspective that enables human readiness for a coming crisis. And we should ready ourselves whether or not the crisis actually comes. Swanigan's excellent article shows us why. As Nietzsche said, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”

 

(Written with assistance from Claude.)