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All views expressed herein are (obviously) my own and not representative of anyone else, be they my current or former employers, family, friends, acquaintances, distant relations or your mom.

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

Relief. For a time.

Something happened a few days ago that made me see I’d been tense and anxious without realising it. I’d been moaning about the amount of rain we’d had; almost, it seemed to me, constant since Autumn. Nobody else I spoke to about it seemed to notice much. They knew we’d had rain – you couldn’t not know. But it didn’t seem to bother anyone greatly that we’d barely had a 24-hour period without rain for months.

It's England. We’re famous for rain. I realise this. But the giant puddles and waterlogged woods I walk past and through on my way to and from work weren’t getting smaller or drying up. It turns out it hadn’t stopped raining for more than a day since September. Until just the other day.

It’s hard not to feel disingenuous moaning about constant rain in light of all that’s been going on in Australia and also when the rain we’ve had is inconsequential when compared to what Indonesia has been going through (what, you didn’t know? Your usual source of news failed to bring the terrible climate change-fuelled flooding to your attention? Funny that, with Indonesia being a country of people of a different colour or religion or standing on the world stage that your planet-destroying billionaire-defending press thought it wasn’t worth mentioning, what with a prince deciding to move out of his gran’s house being all that’s apparently newsworthy (a good backdrop for the upcoming likely economic suicide the country’s about to commit too – ‘take back control’ indeed. What a ridiculous joke). The day our hateful, lying, spiteful, complicit media go up in flames will be a good day. But I digress), it feels somewhat hypocritical to complain. But again, England. Complain is what we do.

We’ve had a mild Winter. That’s pretty much undeniable. And yes, to harp on about one mild Winter being down to climate change would be as bad as those that claim a cold snap is evidence supporting their denial. I know the difference between weather (the weather in one place, at one time, being evidence of nothing) and climate (weather trends over the world over an extended period of time, being evidence of our current way of life being somewhat doomed in a matter of decades, perhaps years). But a mild Winter coupled with knowledge of what’s happening to the climate has been leaving me sick with anxiety.

So when, over the last few days, the clouds cleared, and the stars shone at night, and the temperature dropped, and the morning came with frost, and the air was cold, I felt what I’d been missing. The muddy puddle I usually have to navigate through crunched underfoot. The leafless trees were gorgeous against a clear bright sky. The sunset was astonishing. It was such a relief. It was joyous.

It's already gone. Today was too warm again, and the ground was wet again. But I can hold on to that feeling, for a while. I can try not to worry too much about those moments becoming rarer until they disappear entirely in the years ahead.

People are asking the wrong question about climate change. The question isn’t ‘Is this drought/fire/flood/hurricane caused by climate change?’ All those weather phenomena have always been with us. The question is ‘How much worse is climate change making it?’ The answer is, a lot, but nowhere near as much as it’s going to.

You’re not the one that can fix it. Neither am I. Remember, about 100 companies are responsible for 71% of all carbon emissions. They are the ones that can, while not fix it exactly, certainly mitigate the absolute worst of it. They could have fixed it, in the 80s. They knew even then, but, you know. Money. Profit. Shareholders. BP. Exxon. Shell. Blood on their hands, all of them.

I suppose the point to make is take those moments of relief and joy where you can. While you can.