The climate crisis is often described as a “silent killer”—a disaster of such vast, complex, and slow-moving proportions that it remains profoundly difficult for the human mind to grasp. For Itay Marienberg-Milikowsky, a professor of Hebrew literature at Ben-Gurion University (BGU), this disconnect suggests that the most effective response may not be found in scientific reports alone, but in the stories we tell.
While traditional “climate fiction” seeks to sound the alarm by placing environmental catastrophe at the center of the narrative, Marienberg-Milikowsky argues that a more profound cultural shift is required. He suggests that literature, even when it is not explicitly about the environment, holds the power to reshape how society relates to nature through subtle, ingrained attitudes—what he calls “easter eggs” hidden within the margins of a story.
“The mere representation of nature in literature does not necessarily mean that nature is what we are actually thinking about,” Marienberg-Milikowsky notes. He draws a parallel to George Orwell’s Animal Farm, pointing out that readers of that work are rarely focused on the animals themselves, but rather on the deeper human truths being conveyed. Similarly, he believes that by examining how characters navigate their natural surroundings, readers can uncover deeply embedded societal norms about resource consumption, conservation, and the human relationship to the earth.
To illustrate his point, the professor looks to the history of the Hebrew canon. He cites Theodor Herzl’s 1902 novel Altneuland as a prime example of how environmental challenges were central to the Zionist imagination. In the narrative, the protagonist returns to a desolate, heat-stricken Palestine only to find it transformed years later by cooperative, technology-driven solutions to its arid climate. While the book is fundamentally a work about nation-building, Marienberg-Milikowsky observes that the characters’ ability to overcome climatic adversity served as a symbolic “test” for the new society.
This approach extends to classical texts as well. The Talmudic story of Honi the Circle-Drawer, who spends his life planting a carob tree for his descendants to enjoy, serves as a quiet meditation on long-term stewardship. By analyzing these subtle references, Marienberg-Milikowsky hopes to move beyond “preachy” environmental narratives, which can sometimes alienate readers, toward a more organic way of questioning our environmental footprint.
The impact of this approach is inevitably measured in decades rather than days. Marienberg-Milikowsky acknowledges that reading a story will not lead to immediate policy changes, but he suggests that literature can prime the pump for wider societal evolution. He points to how cultural shifts regarding gender roles were mirrored in the evolving dialogue of popular television shows like Friends or Seinfeld, noting that as our language changed, our social norms eventually followed. Similarly, he cites the Danish drama Borgen, where the sight of a prime minister commuting by bicycle is depicted as a mundane reality. Such images, he argues, challenge viewers to ask why similar norms might be deemed “unimaginable” in their own countries, potentially opening the door to new possibilities.
At BGU, this research is gaining institutional support. Marienberg-Milikowsky, in collaboration with Dr. Michal Birkenfeld of the Department of Archaeology, has helped establish a framework for environmental humanities within the university’s Goldman Sonnenfeldt School of Sustainability and Climate Change. By bridging the gap between humanistic inquiry and hard science, the initiative aims to invite researchers who previously felt disconnected from climate discourse to bring their unique perspectives into the conversation.
While the project is in its early stages, the shift in atmosphere is palpable. Faculty members who once worked in silos are now beginning to find common ground, creating a new, interdisciplinary language for climate action. As Marienberg-Milikowsky emphasizes, changing the way we think about the world is the first step toward changing the world itself, and literature provides the essential, if quiet, foundation for that transformation.
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