Hurricane Melissa, the largest and most forceful storm ever recorded, tore through the Caribbean with a violence that defies precedent. Jamaica bore the brunt of its fury, while across Asia, from Thailand to Vietnam and the Philippines, entire regions were submerged under unseasonal, record-breaking rainfall. These are not isolated anomalies; they are symptoms of a planetary system under extreme stress. Yet as communities count the dead and measure the ruins, global leaders gathered in Belém, Brazil, for the 30th Conference of the Parties (COP30), engaged once again in climate discussions that feel increasingly ritualistic, detached and futile.
This is the heart of our climate crisis: not merely rising temperatures or intensifying storms, but a profound cognitive dissonance, a psychological and political contradiction between what humanity knows and how it behaves.
Since the first Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro in 1992, the world has been acutely aware of the environmental precipice it stands upon. That moment was infused with promise: a collective recognition that economic growth divorced from ecological limits was unsustainable. In the decades that followed, environmental awareness seeped into daily life. Low-emission lightbulbs replaced incandescent ones. Plastics were reduced, recycled, or rebranded as biodegradable. Engines became fuel-efficient; vehicles learned to switch off when idle. Electric cars, photovoltaic panels, wind farms, and even wave energy emerged as symbols of a greener future.
On paper, humanity appeared to be responding.
In reality, emissions continued to rise. Consumption accelerated. Ecosystems collapsed faster than before.
