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Yes, I saw that last portion or paragraph.

Will the neo-Malthusians do it for him?

I suppose if he is one of their mouthpieces, probably not...

In one way or another, they'll choke the living daylights out of the rest of us, instead. (or keep trying to...)

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
-Moby Dick on Gutenberg.org

The really perplexing thing about Laudato Si--- and, by extension, this whole papacy --- is the amount of ambiguity and contradiction. You think you have him pegged as one thing, and he turns out to be another. You are sure somebody has misrepresented him, and it turns out they have represented him to a T.

Did you read where I said I color-coded LS? The are parts of it which are rather wonderful. There are other parts that make me think he is out of control of what he is saying. It's not just a structural/composition problem in the "architecture" of the encyclical, so to speak. Clearly he didn't write the whole thing: but still. It's almost like parts of a divided personality struggling for coherence. It's got more lamentation in it than the Lamentabili.

I don't want to play "Junior Psychiatrist" or over-think this thing. Nor are my hunches likely to be that accurate. But in his case, I have the hunch of an interiorly suffering man, weighed down with a sense of global doom, hoping... hoping what? Hoping to allocate grain fairly when "famine grips the whole world"? Like Joseph in the house of Ban Ki-moon?