Studio Ghibli Can Save the World
If We Let Them
The climate crisis has, obviously, not escaped public attention. As problems continue to arise and alarmism becomes increasingly popular, several threats to the broader ecological movement may hinder any tangible and effective action. And while there still is much talk about climate denialism - which undoubtedly remains a real issue that needs addressing - an often overlooked opponent seems to lurk even among those of us fully devoted to climate action. This threat is what many refer to as ‘climate pessimism’.
In essence, climate pessimism may be understood as a political attitude that views the current situation as hopeless and accepts only the most catastrophic alternatives. For the pessimists efforts to improve the situation, or even mitigate the damage currently being done, are largely pointless, temporary, or not adequate. Climate pessimism, then, is a loosely defined ideology that bases itself on the acceptance of ecological collapse and adaptation as the only viable path forward. It is also very appealing, as fatalism has always been because it seemingly is based on its accurate interpretation of scientific data and pragmatic approach to the current situation. While many great authors and researchers have, in the past, tackled this erroneous assumption of pessimism being based on solid scientific foundations, I wanted to discuss the artistic side of the problem, for aesthetics is undeniably an important element of ideology.
Art is, after all, in no small part influenced by our own perception of the world. If that perception is dominated by fatalism and hopelessness which defines climate pessimism it is safe to assume that those attitudes will be reflected in the media we create and consume. Indeed, some of the most popular examples of many forms of media are clearly and undoubtedly dominated by this pessimism. The popularity of the climate fiction genre, as well as the growing interest in the theme of the apocalypse with works of fiction such as Sweettooth and Station Eleven (both of which have also been adapted for the screen) and video games such as Wasteland, Fallout, or The Last of Us, which has recently been adapted into an immensely popular live-action series, clearly shows that our visions of even the near future are largely pessimistic. The collapse of society is a universal threat, recognizable no matter the background, and the fear of it is what often drives artists to create those works of fiction.
Those titles, among numerous of their peers, feature worlds that are hostile towards humanity, forcing the few remaining survivors to fall back on primitive and harmful practices, often falling prey to tribalism, totalitarianism, slavery, and near-genocidal attempts at population control. The violence of such worlds is aimed at, and expected from, two distinct threats - the environment, presented as uncontrolled, wild, and often absurdly hostile, and humanity itself, as the protagonists often struggle against the oppressive and brutal regimes that arise in response to the environmental collapse. These can of course vary in their intensity, and works will often focus on just one. It is important to note, however, that while society may at times be portrayed in an overtly positive light, the environment, or the climate, will always be a threat in those stories.
If the protagonists exist in a hostile world, it is only reasonable that they would be willing to accept violence as a solution to the many problems that plague them. This is, in essence, a form of social Darwinism, showing the pessimistic goal of adaptation taking to the extreme in a world where might makes right as the struggle for survival pushes humanity towards their most basic instincts. But then it is never portrayed as a glorification of violence, but rather a simple admittance of the harshness of the world presented, a sentiment to the corrupting influence that climate collapse will inevitably have on humanity.
The truth, however, is much different, as many of those ideas and attitudes towards the possible downfall of humanity are reinforced and on occasion created by the very works which claim to simply predict them. These genres are not prophetic in the way they portray the last moments of humanity, as much as they would want to pretend to be, but rather they construct those same problems by sparking in their audiences this limited and fatalistic idea of the survival of the fittest. It is effectively a feedback loop, as climate-pessimistic works of fiction promote climate pessimism, which then leads to the creation of more such works. But the attitude itself does not complete the circle, as it lingers, it remains with the individual, never fully transferred into the next piece of media, and if not consciously combated it may result in acceptance of the more real-world oriented aspects of climate pessimism.
But there is a way to combat it, and a real need to do so as well. Climate activism needs to embrace hope. There is a growing need for optimism in climate fiction and genres related to it and a growing hunger for alternatives not drenched in negativity and not created by fatalists and doomsayers. Those expressing this need, myself included have, for a while now, only a very modest selection of works to base their optimism on. But there is movement, and a growing interest in such media, welcomed with open hands by the few who have maintained it for the past few decades. One prevailing ‘beacon’ of climate hope, however, has for the past few decades been the Japanese animation icon Studio Ghibli.
From the very beginning, environmentalism has been one of the most important themes for the studio which, after all, debuted with Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, a movie famed for its love of nature and condemnation of senseless destruction of wildlife. The commercial success of not just Nausicaä, but the studio’s other movies, such as My Neighbor Totoro and Princess Mononoke, as well as their most recent release, The Boy and the Heron, shows that there is a real interest among the public in such themes, one that vastly outgrows the current selection of works which feature them. How, then, does Studio Ghibli promote climate optimism?
For one, the viewer can be assured that no matter the circumstances and despite grave odds, the heroes will never lose hope. We, as the audience, can depend on those characters to continue their struggle, often to their own peril, and persevere in the face of even the most disheartening catastrophe. They are, however, not immune to fear, a quality, in my eyes, that serves only to humanize them and provide examples of how to express those dark, otherwise crippling emotions in a healthy and controlled manner. The stories shown to us by Studio Ghibli are not those of larger-than-life heroes combating the forces of evil on their own. Instead, those movies are about ordinary (in the context of the settings) people doing their best to protect the world they love - an attitude dear to many environmentalists, and yet so often forgotten by them.
Studio Ghibli is not averse to portraying darkness, evil, and corruption in a manner truly disturbing and repulsive. Seldom are those elements of the story romanticized in any way, and failure always feels appropriately world-ending. There is a finality to the threats shown in the movies, a certain aura of total collapse, which, ironically, seems to elude many works that focus on that state of failure. It is perhaps somewhat counterproductive for those works to portray a post-apocalyptic setting in this common manner, showing it as yes, cruel and hostile, but also strangely alluring, wild, untamed, and different. Above all else, post-apocalyptic works provide the viewer with an alternative to the status quo, without necessarily forcing them to consider the larger context of it and the circumstances that brought about this change. Studio Ghibli, however, is very much focused on the why and how, showing exactly the destruction and corruption necessary to, so to say, “wipe the slate clean”. While often heavy-handed, this portrayal is crucial, in my opinion, as it pokes holes in the adaptation narrative - for if adaptation is even possible, it is by no means worth it.
Studio Ghibli makes sure we fall in love with nature. The artistry required to create the scenery seen in those movies is truly astonishing, and nearly every landscape from those works could, in my opinion, be displayed in a gallery. Aside from the skill of the artists working for the studio, it also shows their love of nature, their attention to detail, and their dedication. The environments of Ghibli make the viewer tear up with nostalgia, they form a relationship with the audience who quickly learn to cherish those imaginary spaces. After all, the preservation of nature’s beauty is one of the foremost goals of environmentalism.
And here I arrive at a hopeful conclusion. For I do truly believe Studio Ghibli - and other such projects - can save the world. Not directly, of course, as it has never been the function, nor the responsibility, of art. But above all else, Ghibli is capable of planting seeds, which, if lucky enough to fall on open minds, can grow to bloom with a genuine love of nature and a deeply personal passion for environmental causes. And I hope that in the near future artists inspired by those movies will be encouraged more and more to create and share their ideas across different mediums. I similarly hope that it will move genres such as environmental fiction towards healthier, more optimistic attitudes - attitudes that promote practical solutions and creative inquiry into the issues we face, rather than fatalistic acceptance of defeat. I also want to share a fascination, hoping that through my limited platform, I can spread awareness of a genre much deserving of attention, and this genre is Solarpunk. It is an aesthetic and a narrative technique devoted to and inspired by the very optimism that shines through the movies of Studio Ghibli, focused on dependence on renewable energy, promotion of healthy and eco-friendly lifestyles, and the rejection of the current, harmful modes of interacting with the environment. While still quite niche, it is gaining traction, and elements of Solarpunk are sneaking their way into huge blockbusters, such as Marvel's Black Panther or the Star Trek universe. And while difficult to notice in the foreboding sea of pessimism, there exists a realm of fascinating artwork created by individuals who are stubborn enough to not abandon hope despite the overwhelming fatalism. My recommendation in this area would be the late great Ursula K. Le Guin, a science-fiction and fantasy author who was often cited as a great source of inspiration by Hayao Miyazaki, the co-founder of Studio Ghibli. If you like video games, I would also recommend Submerged, along with its sequel, by Uppercut Games.
Studio Ghibli can save the world because it can inspire a movement towards optimism. I understand and sympathize with those who give in to fatalism, as it is increasingly easy to become disillusioned with the current state of affairs. I also understand that optimism might seem naive, or even unscientific, and to combat those narratives I leave below a link to an article that tackles that issue much more competently than I ever could. I, in turn, want to combat pessimism, for despite it being easy, and very much encouraged by the media, it does not benefit us in any way. Climate pessimism is an enemy just as much as outright denial is, and I feel that it is high time we talked about it.
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