By Promod Puri
I often wonder if the endless wave of climate protests and campaigns is even aiming at the real culprit behind environmental destruction. Spoiler alert: the main offender isn’t some faceless corporation. It’s me. And you. And most of us, really. Seriously!
Despite my awareness of the world’s worsening environmental mess, I continue to fuel the chaos. I’m the one driving demand for cheap and abundant goods, pushing the planet to its breaking point. Yet, I conveniently point the finger at big businesses and greedy manufacturers, blaming them for this escalating catastrophe. It’s always easier to accuse the fat cats of greed while I swipe my card for the latest gadget or fast-fashion haul.
I’m the one yelling at world leaders for not stepping up. I’m quick to mock climate deniers, calling them ignorant while conveniently ignoring my own hypocrisy. I join the global chorus of outrage, shaking my fist at the heavens, demanding change. But here’s the dirty little secret: behind closed doors, I keep doing the very things that are killing the planet. I create the demand but refuse to own the consequence. The “problem” is humanity. Just not me.
Sure, I preach collective responsibility, but let’s be honest—my actions scream otherwise. I’ve convinced myself that my carbon footprint is just a tiny drop in the vast, polluted ocean. My eating habits? Untouched. My consumerism? Thriving. My social life? Still fueled by excess. But when I step out into the street—or post on social media—I’m an eco-warrior through and through.
Yes, I know the Earth is warming, glaciers are melting, and island nations are on the brink of disappearing under the waves. I’m aware coastlines are eroding and that time is running out. But do I fully grasp how carbon credits work and how they’re traded or manipulated? Nope. I nod along and cheer for “net-zero” goals, hoping someone else figures out the details.
I see the parade of political summits, each churning out impressive-sounding environmental accords designed to reduce greenhouse gases. Except they don’t. These grand declarations are nothing more than paper promises—non-binding, easy in, easy out. And I watch it all unfold like a spectator at a climate circus.
In my “socially conscious” moments, I rally for zero economic growth, imagining a world where we stop consuming endlessly and give the environment a break. But reality calls, and my attachment to my stuff—the gadgets, the clothes, the bargains—wins every time. My shopping carts overflow, my closets bulge, and I wear my bargain-hunting victories like badges of honour. Who needs a banana hanger? Apparently, I do.
In this world of excess, industries churn out products faster than we can consume, flooding the market with more stuff than we could ever need. And I’m right there, adding to my environmental footprint with every unnecessary purchase. Then, hypocritically, I turn around and chastise others for polluting the planet.
But here’s the truth: if we want to clean up this environmental disaster, it starts at home. It starts with me. I’m the cause of this mess. But I’m also the cure.
Promod Puri.com 