Climate Climax
- Apr 22
- 6 min read
Updated: Jul 13
wrecking a fine planet for no good reason: how we could save Earth and why we don't
The brutal absurdity of unnecessary global warming: the plot to save Earth has more than one protagonist, but they can't be bothered to act.
Today is Earth Day. Doesn’t really matter when you're reading this because every day is Earth Day, whether we honor it or not.
And we could certainly honor it more these days. The climate movement has lost its momentum, spinning out of the news cycle somewhere between pandemic and war, but its urgency didn't diminish alongside our attention. The planet is still burning, and if you sweep a fire under the rug, you’re only feeding the fire a rug.
Greta and the whole Fridays for Future gang had a real moment before the pandemic because their activism was young, and with youth comes promise and the kind of relentless idealism that hasn't started suffering from adulthood yet. The hopeful determination those Gen Z kids spread infected millennials and boomers alike—an intergenerational fever that surged through the streets.
But then there was something in the air that year, a microscopic changemaker without agenda, and the metaphorical fever turned literal, those bustling streets turned empty, and the movement turned into stillstand. Its loud message ended up in a silent trash can down a dead-end street where we could finally forget it, very conveniently, and move on with our lives without making the necessary sacrifices or feeling bad about it. Crisis averted. Just not the actual crisis.
When we woke up from that societal coma, the world’s geopolitical landscape had shifted tectonically. A change that could not go unprotested, so those demonstrators recycled their cardboard slogans and chants, and directed their activism towards a different common good and goal: peace.
Rightfully so. How could we not assign a higher priority to people dying today than to people potentially dying tomorrow, emphasis on “potentially,” which is a big asterisk attached to the word “dying.”
But those wars came at the worst time. When unity was needed most, division was what we chose. The seasons changed before we could reap the unity we had sowed to cultivate our sustainable survival on this planet. A failed harvest that left even deeper furrows between us. Now we're back at it, committing climate arson and civilizational suicide.
Of course, these wars and their deadliness and migratory flux will be mere footnotes in history books once the big, global climate plot unfolds. Then everything will change for everyone. Our inability and unwillingness to understand the dimensions and gravity of that change, won’t stop the fact from coming into effect. Earth has gone through some unfathomable climate seasons in the past, with the last ice age seeming like a cute little winter compared to the Carnian pluvial episode with its millions of years of rain, which followed an earlier episode of global warming. And it is at least partially up to us—the terraforming semi-Gods, sculpting the earth and smoking the atmosphere—to shape those future seasons.
But who cares? Who cares now? We only care if everyone cares, and if no one cares, no one even cares that no one cares. We're at a crossroads, and probably humanity knows no other place. We live here—at the crossroads between clingy traditions and greedy ambitions—and the time to act has always been now, nower, nowest. But the crossroads is getting louder and busier, more prone to accidents and fatal, planetary consequences.
The destruction of this perfectly fine planet is not happening out of necessity or because there is no other way—it is due to mere convenience and sheer greed.
Unfortunately or fortunately, the plot to save Earth requires more than one protagonist. Here’s the cast in no specific order:
Civil Society
Government
Private Sector
Each has their part, and has to play it with equal dedication: changing consumerist attitudes and behaviors at the individual level, improving guidance and guardrails at the institutional level, serving society before serving stakeholders at the corporate level.
Consumers can reduce their consumption, consume more ethically, and focus their purchase power on necessities while foregoing luxuries.
Governments can inform and regulate societal purchase patterns to make the most sustainable choice the most affordable or attractive choice through subsidies and taxes.
The private sector can pioneer green technologies and products, and prioritize entrepreneurial ethics over stakeholder profits.
If these actors acted together in harmony, we'd be looking at a happy ending, applause all around. But life is no theater and the world not a stage. Reality is messy. Interactions are complex and dynamic, and each actor influences the other:
Politicians rein in the private sector with laws, oversight, and subsidies, while corporations fish for government contracts and favorable policies with lobbyist bait.
The relationship between corporations and consumers is not a one way street either: companies lure customers towards product offerings by creating demand through marketing, but existing consumer demand directs and dictates what's on the shelves at the end of the day.
And the government controls societal compliance with its agenda through directives and education, while voters reign over governments with their ballots.
In the short term, governments and corporations can and must nudge people in the right direction to effectuate urgent changes. In the long term, education is key to raise awareness of sustainability issues and subsequently foster people's willingness to follow that ethical compass once it is calibrated, rather than adhering to imposed guidelines. Educated citizens, in turn, choose their governments and consumption wisely, and hold those accountable who don't represent their values.
Across these three groups, responsibility is shared, but not everyone feels or acts equally responsible at all times. With current political and corporate agendas diverting awareness and investments from sustainable climate solutions, individual civic action becomes the key lever.
While the world's richest man is aiming his rockets at Mars, shooting for an Earth-backup—an idiotic illusion at best, a dangerous delusion more likely—we, the people, must fight to save this here planet by taking a step back, flexing our ethical conscience, and punching needless overconsumption to smithereens. Poor Mars, if we can't even defend our home world against humanity's invasiveness.
Billionaire agendas can be quite maddening, but nothing is more insane than how easy it would be to avert tomorrow's existential crisis. A little action today, if we all acted together, is all it would take.
If we all consumed a little less now, if corporations were a little less greedy, and governments a little less focused on populist self-preservation, we could prevent the system from complete collapse.
It is not a lack of awareness that keeps us from turning things around. It is an unwillingness to act. It's the classic what-I-do-makes-no-difference dynamic. We all could do much much more, even those who already come through for the planet. Eight billion little actions make for one huge change.
There is no excuse we can offer future generations for wrecking Earth; and what we have for explanations, seems laughable now and will seem cruel then: the destruction of this perfectly fine planet is not happening out of necessity or because there is no other way—it is due to mere convenience and sheer greed. Because we are too lazy to take a bike instead of a car now and then, and because meat is pretty yummy, so we must have it all the time. The absurdity of manmade climate change is brutal. Killer, really. Just like war and hunger. There are no winners in war, and no one needs to starve on the same planet where others throw away mountains of food. We could save the world, but we can't be bothered. It'd be the easiest thing, really. Just be a little better. Done. But no.
If we all drove our cars a little less now, we wouldn’t drive them towards extinction. But here we are, headed for a future where cars will be an unthinkable luxury and public transport the only choice, as in no choice. If we all ate a little less meat now, there would be other options but soy on the tables of future generations. If we all forewent the most unnecessary luxuries today, we wouldn’t need to forego absolutely everything that isn’t pure necessity tomorrow.
At the point of no return, choices die, and optional becomes mandatory. Another million years of rain would be pretty restrictive for life as we know it. Can you imagine? A lifetime of rain? Unimaginable. Especially if it's not your own lifetime. But if we could imagine it, and if we would care about those who come after us, maybe we would sacrifice a car or a piece of meat here and there to prevent the apocalypse.
