After Infinity War hit theaters, numerous articles appeared arguing that Thanos was wrong and comparing Thanos to Malthus. Even more appeared after Endgame. Many of them argue that we haven’t yet hit the limit, that we haven’t exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet yet.

But this argument just kicks the can down the road. If we can agree that there is a limit (or more accurately, multiple limits), then we must agree that at some point we have to alter our behavior to conform to those limits. And the latest science tells us that we have already passed several of the planetary boundaries for sustaining human life.

Other commentators answered Thanos’ challenge by suggesting that we can transcend natural limits:

“The overpopulation concept also assumes Earth has limited resources due to a carrying capacity, but that might be irrelevant because humans are able to use artificial means—farming and other technologies—to engineer ecosystems and sustain populations beyond natural limits.” — JV Chamary, “Is Thanos Right About Overpopulation In 'Avengers: Infinity War'?”, Forbes, Apr. 30, 2018 “The idea that humans must live within the natural environmental limits of our planet denies the realities of our entire history … Our planet’s human-carrying capacity emerges from the capabilities of our social systems and our technologies more than from any environmental limits. …The only limits to creating a planet that future generations will be proud of are our imaginations and our social systems. In moving toward a better Anthropocene, the environment will be what we make it.” — Erle C. Ellis, “Overpopulation Is Not the Problem”, New York Times, Sept. 13, 2013

The first quote above seems naive, but the second one is truly terrifying. “A better Anthropocene”?! That phrase says it all. In the view of the techno-optimist, human beings are destined to be Masters of the Universe, and the only thing holding us back is the belief that natural limitations are real.

This seems to be the implicit message of the Avengers movies, that we can transcend all limits with technology (when combined with gritty resolve and plucky optimism). After all, hasn’t it worked for us in the past? The Industrial Revolution came along and saved us from Malthus’ predictions. And a century and a half later, the Green Revolution saved us from Paul Ehrlich’s predictions.

The problem is that each of these revolutions came with a cost—one that is left uncounted by the capitalists and technocrats alike. The Industrial Revolution was built on the availability of cheap fossil fuels—first coal, then oil. But we have now passed the point of peak oil, and the availability of easily obtainable fossil fuels is on the decline. While there still is plenty of oil and gas in the ground, the cost of extracting them is going up—so the net energy output is going down. Since the efficiency of renewable and nuclear energy sources is a fraction of cheap fossil fuels (which are disappearing), the unavoidable outcome will be a drastic reduction of economic production (whether voluntary or compelled by collapse).

Similarly, while the Green Revolution allowed us to feed billions more people, it has also come with a cost. Grain yields have gone up, but the efficiency of the food production system has gone down, meaning that the amount of energy required to produce the same amount of grain has actually increased. It’s taking more and more energy to keep the whole thing running, and eventually, it has to collapse. It’s elementary thermodynamics: You can’t draw infinite energy from a finite system.

At the end of Endgame, Thanos is defeated when Tony Stark uses his Iron Man suit to steal the Infinity Stones and use them, by snapping his fingers while thinking Thanos and his army out of existence. Magic stones and finger snapping: It’s hard to imagine a better illustration of wishful thinking. There was one more important ingredient, though. In using the stones, Stark sacrifices himself, which ompletes the modernist/Christian formula for transcending death: technology + optimism + a sacrificial figure.

But the fact is that technology is not going to save us. Technology—or rather, our technological attitude—is the problem, not the solution. No substitutionary sacrifice is going to save us either (though I expect many scapegoats will be executed along the way). Wishful thinking isn’t going to save us either, whether it takes the form of faith in technology (Iron Man) or American exceptionalism (Captain America) or a Christian-style god (Thor). In the end, death is, as Thanos says, inevitable.

“Dread it. Run from it. Destiny still arrives all the same. And now it is here.” — Thanos

I’d Rather Be A Human Than a Goddess or a Cyborg

This isn’t an argument for genocide or for eugenics. Some of the best ways to limit population growth are education and empowering women. But so long as we maintain a collective faith in our ability to transcend all natural limits, then we will inevitably hit those limits.

The problem with Avengers: Endgame isn’t the villain, but the heroes—or rather, the heroic mentality. As Ernest Becker explained, ironically, it’s our very attempts to save ourselves, to make ourselves immortal, that end up dooming us.

“Today we are living the grotesque spectacle of the poisoning of the earth by the nineteenth-century hero system of unrestrained material production. This is perhaps the greatest and most pervasive evil to have emerged in all of history, and it may even eventually defeat all of mankind.” — Ernest Becker, Escape from Evil (1975)

Our enemy isn’t death, it’s our attempts to avoid death: the myth of human exceptionalism, uncritical techno-optimism, and a Christian savior-complex. In the place of Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, I would choose other protagonists:

Instead of Iron Man, I would choose Pepper Potts . Pepper is the romantic partner of Tony Stark. She continually tries to get Stark to stop. Just stop. Stop his blind drive to invent, to create, to build. Apparently she succeeds for a little while, during the interlude between Infinity War and Endgame, when Stark settles down and makes a life with Pepper and their child at a lakeside cottage. But then he’s back at it again in the second half Endgame. Stark knows no limits. Pepper does.

Instead of Thor, I would another Marvel heavy-hitter, or rather his alter-ego. I would choose Bruce Banner . No, not the Hulk. Banner. Unlike the Hulk and unlike Thor, Banner understands the dangers of power. He understands that when Hulk smashes, people get hurt. And so, he practices restraint.

Instead of Captain America, I would choose Vision. Vision is an android who falls in love with a human. In contrast to Captain America’s optimism, Vision is a fatalist. I’m thinking here of a scene from an earlier movie, Avengers: Age of Ultron. At the end of the movie, the robotic villain, Ultron, is confronted by Vision. As the sun sets in the background, Ultron says, “They’re doomed,” referring to humanity. “Yes,” responds Vision thoughtfully, “but a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts.” Unlike Captain America, whose optimism is unrelenting, Vision knows that humanity is ultimately doomed. He can see us for what we are. But still, he sees beauty. Still he loves.

Unlike Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America, these three characters—Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner, and Vision—understand limitations. They understand that human beings are not and are not meant to be gods or supermen or cyborgs. They understand that to be human is to be limited and, in the words of Heidegger, to have a “capacity for death.” Ironically, it is in our capacity to embrace our finitude, our limited nature, to love it even, that our salvation lies. Not salvation from death, but salvation from a fate worse than death: to watch ourselves become the villains of our own story.