Two questions for you: How close do you think we are to successfully managing the climate crisis? And how long do you estimate we still have to try to do so? I suspect there are no correct nor definitive answers to these, and whoever you ask will have a different perspective informing their answers (don’t be surprised if some counter-ask: “Why must we?”) I recently read a couple of books that shifted the way I think about how we’ve been approaching climate change as a global crisis, and why, at least in my view, we’re not doing it quite well yet. I want to offer these perspectives here as an invitation for others to entertain a thought exercise and consider, for once, if we have been taken the wrong approach all along, and if we must reroute in trying to make progress with climate action.
The first book, titled Intervention Earth, offers a sobering argument: that the era of relying solely on emissions reductions is drawing to a close. The climate crisis, shaped by decades of insufficient action, has entered a phase where we can no longer afford to depend exclusively on conventional mitigation, whether we like it or not. The author makes the case, rather compellingly, that carbon capture and other technological interventions must now be considered essential elements in our climate strategy, not peripheral ones. This is by no means a replacement for mitigation efforts, but a necessary complement, given our trajectory. What I took from the book was a call for a paradigm shift: from chasing singular emissions reduction targets to opening ourselves up to alternative plans, ones that up to today still trigger visceral reactions from many dedicated proponents of the climate movement.
The second book is called The Climate Fix, written quite a while ago. It unpacks what has gone wrong in the policy discourses around climate change, and even dissects a “scientific scandal” involving climate researchers and denialists (I never knew about this but found it really fascinating from the climate communication/advocacy point of view). But the main point put forth by the author, a political scientist, is around how emissions have been framed as national responsibilities, leading to entrenched positions, geopolitical bargaining, and chronic stalemates. He challenges the UNFCCC’s myopic emphasis on national responsibilities to cut emissions that takes away from a more comprehensive view of the real problem with overshot global atmospheric greenhouse gases. The book questions whether this framing, isolating nations rather than uniting them around a common cause, has deepened the very divides it was meant to overcome. While reading this, I was reminded of how climate change, its causes, impacts, and solutions can all transcend national boundaries. And while responsibility and accountability are fundamental for sustained actions, they can also be an impediment to initiative, progress, and shared resolutions and resources.
EcoMind, the third book, turns the lens inward, endorsing a new mindset with which we can tap into climate solutions more effortlessly. The author observes that many climate or environmental solutions and policies operate from a psychology of loss and limits: the implicit idea that climate actions necessitate sacrifice, restraint, and foregoing comfort. While I very much uphold a critique of unchecked and endless ‘economic growth just for the sake of growth’, I share the author’s view that deprivation makes a terrible motivating force. If action is framed primarily as an erosion of lifestyle, it’s no wonder we still face resistance even decades into this dialogue, despite the clear consequences of inaction. We’re about to have the thirtieth annual climate meeting (aka COP), and there are still powerful actors seeking to thwart climate efforts on the grounds that these bring misery to societies. But rather than sustaining that ‘battle of the sides’ which has clearly shown to go nowhere thus far, shouldn’t we consider alternative paths to mobilizing actions? What if, instead of emphasizing what we must give up as societies and individuals, we aimed to uplift and strengthen what’s already there and what’s possible?
Taken together, these books left me with a thought exercise: what might it look like to reframe our climate policies not as punitive or depriving mechanisms, but as doorsteps towards an enriched and thriving future? Rather than relying on shame, guilt, and penalties targeted at distinct actors, could we achieve more progress if we design systems that reward innovative solutions, resourcefulness, and bold experimentation? Rather than coercing countries (or industries, or sectors) to cut emissions, triggering long-held assumptions that these efforts come with economic trade-offs, could we find ways to fund and reward initiatives that advance collective goals, whether through decarbonization, adaptation and resilience building, or entirely new pathways of economic and societal flourishing?
What does this look like concretely? National leaders need to see an energy transition for what it is: energy security for their current population and generations into the future, not an arbitrary requirement and expectation from some “climate people”. Governments and private donors alike need to pool resources together, call for and reward participatory solutions from citizens, whether through innovation competitions or subsidy packages for citizen science. Stop limiting the work to just the ‘experts’ or ‘authorities’, and bring in locally rooted perspectives of citizens, who might have the ideas and talents to actually do something with the right resources. The fossil fuel industry (yes, those wicked guys that have been branded public enemy #1 in the eye of the climate-conscious) should spend less time, energy, and money fighting PR wars, and use that instead to expand their research and development portfolio into new energy sources, which are already underway. With more profits down the road and fewer PR crises today, they might be quite amenable to that idea, I’d dare to presume. In general, we need to indulge what it is that people want that happens to set us on the right track. We should not risk recycling the same methods with our vision dead-set on a single target, then throw hands when nothing quite works out and exclaim “we’ve tried everything!”
Now this is not a call to abandon accountability nor to gloss over complicity. Honestly, I’d be all for calling people out for their culpability in the crisis and their bullshit attempt to feign concern for the cause. But what these books got me to think about is how important it is to be strategic about how change is incentivized, and about whom we invite to the table. The current narrative often alienates (whether intentionally or not) the very actors who hold the power, capital, or capabilities to do something. They might have used this power and resources to worsen the issues, but they don’t need to be branded “enemies of the cause” for good. If we can find a way to hold them accountable and invite their contribution, I’d be all for that. To be this is not moral compromise, it is pragmatic intelligence. And honestly, after 30 (and certainly more) years of trying and, for the most part, failing to do something effective about the crisis, I’m more than happy to entertain any alternative approaches.
I suppose this is not at all a novel idea, and many have possibly tried to mainstream the perspective. But it’s worth reiterating: using the resources we have today to reward progress and innovation, build on existing talents and will, and create opportunities for aligned missions, might help break the impasse. We need to celebrate and support technological and systemic solutions that help us decarbonize or decouple economic growth from emissions. Call out bad actions, but don’t make an enemy out of the actors. If we frame the climate crisis in a way that empowers potential change-makers instead of stalling or alienating them, we might finally move beyond the gridlock. For the world to make real progress in addressing climate change, we need to come to terms with the fact that people, communities, and nations are more likely to act if they can see a meaningful role for themselves, not just in avoiding an unlivable future, but in creating a world worth inhabiting.
We need a strategic shift away from the circular debate around who cuts how much emissions, which all in all remains mystifying for leaders, demoralizing for activists, unavailing for scientists, and discrediting for businesses. Each year, we return to the Climate COP, recycling the same language, the same fault lines, the same hesitations. It is time to ask whether our conceptual tools and narratives are fit for purpose. I’d absolutely say that emissions reduction must remain crucial, but the way we frame it also matters a lot. A negative “why,” rooted in fear and scarcity, can only take us so far. What we need is a positive “why”, a reason to move not because we are running from catastrophe, but because we are inching towards something better, more resilient. We need a compelling vision of possibility and opportunity, anchored in technological innovation, systems transformation, and collective imagination. And I think we’re almost there.
Post-script: in titling this blog post “What it takes to “fix” climate change”, I of course don’t mean that as the only factor. It is, in my estimate, still a fairly big shift and perhaps one of the most critical transitions towards real progress. I also chose a still cut from the film Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind by Studio Ghibli as the accompanying image for this post, because I find their vision and ethos for a hopeful yet steadfast path towards environmental stewardship very resonant with this message.