I’m trying to reduce my emissions but my nearest and dearest aren’t on the same page. What should I tell them?

Want Hera’s help? Email your problem to helpme@thespinoff.co.nz

Dear Hera,

I remember vividly, back in 2005, when the penny truly, scarily dropped for me that climate change was a “thing” AND that we’re all pretty fucked. I think about it all the time. 

Since then I’ve been trying to reduce my emissions – use public transport, eat less red meat, only buying essentials etc etc. I am trying to do my bit. I’m pretty good at not judging others about their choices because, let’s face it, I’m not a vegan, cyclist, childless extinction rebellion activist (although my heart is completely with them). My challenge is that my nearest and dearest are not on the same page as me. 

Privilege alert: Hera, in particular, how do I say NO to invitations to international travel? I’ve justified visiting my daughter overseas in my head (family connections and all that), but what do I say to spas in Bali with my bestie or reunions with 90s work colleagues from the four corners who I love dearly (and may not actually see before I snuff it)?

My husband loves nothing more than to travel, and even though I’ve told him about my strong aversion to non-essential travel, he doesn’t understand. I haven’t had the courage to tell others why I don’t want to fly. Do you think there is something wrong with me? How do I manage this and stay true to my beliefs?

Yours despondently,

Staying Put

Dear despondent SP,

I don’t think there’s something wrong with you. 

One of the hardest things when dealing with climate change is to be able to hold the enormity of such a terrifying reality in mind, without either succumbing to nihilistic despair or going insane with worry. The danger is so great and yet most of us have become desensitised to it because living with the reality of your own death is a human speciality, and there’s some animal wisdom in being able to cheerfully ignore your own mortality when it suits you. 

But the stakes are obviously much higher than any one individual’s life. We all know we need to do something about it, but it’s hard not to feel powerless when confronted with the sheer magnitude of the task, especially without the cooperation of the world’s biggest polluters, who seem perfectly happy to destroy the only habitable planet in our solar system for a quick buck. 

It’s also hard to know what to do as an individual. The reality is even if everyone did everything that was within their power, it might still not be enough. But that’s no reason to turn the lights off prematurely and have an “everything must go” end-of-civilisation stockroom sale. The best antidote to despair is always action, and I think your goal to cut down on air travel is a good one. You may not be able to meaningfully reduce global editions by singlehandedly catching fewer planes, but at least you’re trying something. So how do you get your friends and family to understand?  

I think people do understand. But talking about climate change is hard, because everyone feels a lot of guilt and fear about the subject, and any conversation that provokes a guilty and fearful response is sure to put a few people on the defensive. It’s hard to hear, “I can’t come on holiday with you because I disagree morally with the way you plan to get there,” without feeling like you’re being judged. But like many things in life, it’s all about tone. 

I would say the best strategy is to go into these conversations without the intention of convincing people you’re right. Most people know you’re right, they just don’t like being reminded of it. If you’re responding to a more casual invitation, it’s fine to simply say, “I would so love to see you but I don’t fly anymore, how about a rail trip to [holiday destination]?” If they want to know more, they can ask. But don’t feel like you have to turn down every invitation with a climate manifesto. 

If people do ask, you can just be honest. If you talk candidly about your worries and the reasons you’ve arrived at your current position, I think you might find that people are a lot more curious and receptive to your ideas than you might think,  and may eventually come to see a kind of logic and peace in them. Your friends might not give up flying altogether, but they may think twice before booking an unnecessary trip. 

Clearly this strategy hasn’t worked on your husband, but I know it’s effective because you’ve just successfully deployed it on me. Your letter gave me a chance to reflect on something I had taken for granted, and I’ve just cancelled a short flight I didn’t really need to take and will think harder about booking unnecessary travel in the future. So you see, it’s working already. 

I don’t know what to say about your husband. But I think you should bring this up with your friends. Perhaps not when they’ve just booked an overseas holiday. But if you can open up to them about your fears, they might have a better context for you suggesting an alternative to their next overseas invitation. Whether or not they change their behaviour in response to yours isn’t important. After all, cutting back on air transport isn’t the only constructive way to respond to the climate emergency and you might discover they’re taking other kinds of action you didn’t know about. 

But it sounds like you’re feeling lonely in your anxiety, and being able to discuss the end of the world with your friends is exactly what friends are for. We all need to get more comfortable talking about it, because the truth is that aeroplane emissions are nowhere near the biggest contributor to climate change, and without standing up to the governments and corporations that are glibly enabling the destruction of the planet, it’s game over. New Zealand is already unlikely to meet net zero emissions by 2050, and the current government is busy dismantling environmental protections, frog by frog, presumably hoping they’ll get a spot in Peter Thiel’s apocalypse bunker. 

That doesn’t mean choosing not to fly is pointless. Every small thing you can do, whether it’s cutting back on meat, catching public transport, holding the government to account or blowing up an oil pipeline, is righteous and good. But it’s not a fight that can be won by any one individual. In order to make a meaningful difference we need solidarity and strength in numbers, and the best way to start building that solidarity is by having honest conversations.

You might not get a perfect response every time. But I think you’d be surprised how many people share your very real and very understandable concerns. If nothing else, at least you won’t feel so alone. 

Best, 

Hera