In this issue of New York Magazine, Kurt Andersen takes a darkly comedic look at apocalypse fever in pop culture. From Christian Rapturists to Daniel Pinchbeck to Cormac McCarthy's The Road, Andersen is, well, pretty freaked out by the trendiness of end-of-the-world talk.
Millions of people–Christian millenarians, jihadists, psychedelicized Burning Men–are straight-out wishful about The End. Of course, we have the loons with us always; their sulfurous scent if not the scale of the present fanaticism is familiar from the last third of the last century–the Weathermen and Jim Jones and the Branch Davidians. But there seem to be more of them now by orders of magnitude (60-odd million "Left Behind" novels have been sold), and they're out of the closet, networked, reaffirming their fantasies, proselytizing. Some thousands of Muslims are working seriously to provoke the blessed Armageddon. And the Christian Rapturists' support of a militant Israel isn't driven mainly by principled devotion to an outpost of Western democracy but by their fervent wish to see crazy biblical fantasies realized ASAP–that is, the persecution of the Jews by the Antichrist and the Battle of Armageddon.
When apocalypse preoccupations leach into less-fantastical thought and conversation, it becomes still more disconcerting. Even among people sincerely fearful of climate change or a nuclearized Iran enacting a "second Holocaust" by attacking Israel, one sometimes detects a frisson of smug or hysterical pleasure.
