I catastrophise all too frequently. I’m pessimistic by nature, or at least by nurture. Perhaps that makes more sense, given the extensive frequency at which cataclysms occur. Language used to describe the climate crisis, as just one example of the contemporary devastation we’ve become concerningly desensitised to, tends to be pretty doom and gloom. Though I’m sure both effective and completely necessary, the ‘record warm winters wreck havocs’ and the ‘scientists are freaking out about ocean temperatures’ tend to leave me in a state of despair more often than they do feeling inspired or optimistic about the fate of today.
I was sitting in a cafe the other day, a black americano in one hand and a copy of Bouvard et Péchuchet in the other (which I’m admittedly finding quite difficult to get into), half thinking about my next column. It was one of those days: too much coffee and not enough thought. The words weren’t coming to me, neither were Flaubert’s. Easily distracted, I found myself absorbed in conversations taking place around me by people far more interesting than the inner-workings of my mind in their current, somewhat redundant state.
My ears pricked towards one narrative in particular. A gruff voice with a Mancunian accent, belonging to a relatively handsome man in a vintage-looking shirt. I observed him as he spoke passionately into his laptop about renewable energy resources and Germany’s plans for net zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2045. I tried to catch a glimpse of his screen over his shoulder, my eyes met with a series of diagrams that I couldn’t quite deduce. I found myself overwhelmed by a curious and contented warmth within. It could well have been the coffee on an empty stomach, only it was accompanied by this sense of positivity. After a moment’s rumination, I realised it tasted more like optimism than coffee.
I began thinking about the climate crisis and sustainable alternatives as a topic of conversation. This was not the first conversation I’ve eavesdropped on in which sustainability has been central. The climate crisis and sustainability come up in a lot of my own conversations too.
I mentally returned to a meeting I’d had a week prior. It was about an upcoming sustainable fashion-focused summit. Over a late lunch followed by an organic wine and a pot of fresh mint tea, we dissected (or, at least, we tried to dissect) what went wrong, when, and what is it that ails those perpetuating this disregard for the planet. We exchanged notes on wonderful women and the exciting initiatives and organisations that are taking huge strides for a better future. Maybe this is generous, but say a quarter of the population switch to more sustainable alternatives, it might not be enough to turn things around totally but it’s a start and it’s a start that felt good to us. We were collectively hopeful. We were inspired.
The conversations I have on this subject are rarely negative. In fact, they’re often quite energising From renewable energy suppliers, natural deodorants and recycled razors, all the way to relevant changes to global policy; conversations I have with friends, colleagues, acquaintances tend to focus on the small wins and great successes more than they do on the losses (which, come to think of it, could be just as much of a coping mechanism in these times of turbulence as it is a fundamental mindset for moving forward).
Admittedly, I exist in a bubble of people who are involved, in some capacity, in leveraging change. I don’t take this for granted, I feel very lucky to be ignited by such conscious and passionate people. Not everyone experiences this. Education, politics and socioeconomic inequalities act as hindrances, making this complex and nuanced and therefore, occasionally avoided.
Other people just don’t care, or they do care but social pressures to conform and comply with what is temporarily deemed trendy takes precedence and behaviours mismatch attitudes. I still know people who haul on Shein and Boohoo, and not because they have to. Some people ask, quite rightly: what difference does it make whether or not we buy a couple of cheap blouses or throw our tin cans into the trash rather than the recycling when Elon Musk is shooting rockets into space like paper aeroplanes that must closely miss Taylor Swift in her private jet which she seems to use for anything and everything all the way up to walking the dog?
Touché. I get it.
What difference does it make? I try to remain stoical, which is easier said than done. It’s an obvious one, I know, so forgive me but the more people who make small changes to their lives, which, yes, might be uncomfortable at first, the greater the pressure is on governments, corporations and Taylor Swift to respect and comply with earth’s limitations.
I reflect on this all now from southern France where I sit at a desk overlooking miles of forests and mountains. I’m visiting a bio-organic vineyard in the hills near Carcassonne. The owner tells me of new local policies put in place by their left-leaning mayor. 80% of vineyards in the region are organic and the majority of local farming is pesticide free. The village street lighting is turned off after midnight for environmental reasons. He tells me that insect biodiversity looks to be on the mend. Systems damaged by the introduction of chemicals into farming are rebalancing as a result of revisions to organic methods.
I think my point is that through continued conversation we can take back some power – and we can learn a thing or two. We can put our heads together to encourage new norms in which cheap and plentiful isn’t better, pesticide-fuelled farming isn’t deemed acceptable and carbon footprints so large they’re no longer human aren’t, well, normal.
In the new-age, the Meta-world, we’re lulled into a false sense of connectivity. To me, a lot of it feels superficial or commercial in a digital space that breeds insecurity and is a hotbed for spreading misinformation. We need a good kick up the arse in the face of a harsh reality that is all too often denied or evaded by the commonplace. In the meantime, we edge ever closer to climate collapse.
The awareness is there, whether we choose to pay attention to it or not. Actually, the information has been around for decades, hindered by capital gain, a lack of policy and regulation, misinformation and greenwashing. In spite of an awareness, solutions can still feel impossible. Education, a shift in expectation and a reckoning with a frugality unbeknownst to many are key factors required to translate awareness into action. How do we leverage this? Well, conversation is surely an effective start. We’re a social species, inherently bothered by what other people think of us so let’s hold ourselves accountable by talking to one another. And, not only that. Let’s work together, really work together. Let’s inspire one another and harness the power of the collective to make change happen.