Climate perspectives you will (and won’t) relate to.

Environment: Individual Responsibility

I was working as a paralegal at a law firm in the heart of downtown Atlanta, a conservative surrounded by almost exclusively liberal colleagues. I knew this because politics was almost always a topic of discussion at the lunch table. My colleagues seemed to assume everyone in our office leaned left, and they spoke quite openly about their views, without any room for compromise or even an inkling of curiosity about opposing perspectives.

I tried my best not to take offense, and I never started arguments, even though I disagreed with much of what was said every day at lunch. Everyone probably thought I wasn’t very political, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I stayed quiet other than to ask the occasional pointed question, or weigh in on a topic where we had common ground.

And we did have common ground. I care about the environment. I care about immigrants. I care about the poor. I care about equal rights and equal opportunity. I also care about the rhetoric coming out of the office of the president.

But I never just came out and identified myself as being on the other end of the political spectrum. I worried it would shut down the conversation, or even cost me friendships with colleagues. I didn’t want my colleagues to write me off as an insensitive bigot. My views are educated and nuanced, and I wanted the opportunity to speak for myself, rather than have any label or perception speak for me. Instead, I engaged on the issues where I could find common ground, I listened and I tried to understand.

How a Smoothie Outing Sparked a Debate About Individual Action on Climate Change

During this time, I learned a lot about my lunch-table colleagues. We had a lot of the same core values, but often very different perspectives on how issues should be addressed. Typically, they wanted more government intervention, and I wanted less. I believe communities and individuals are typically better and more efficient problem-solvers than bureaucracies.

Then one day, my colleagues and I had walked a few blocks from our office to get smoothies. One of my liberal colleagues asked for her smoothie with no straw, saying she had a reusable straw at the office. I knew this colleague also kept a container at her desk for recycling, which she dutifully took home at the end of each week. I admired the way she lived out her values.

I smiled and complimented her. “What a great idea,” I said. I was excited that we shared a mutual sense of responsibility for the planet. I'm pro-conservation and pro-environment conservative, I just believe innovation and market-based approaches are better at solving environmental problems than top-down, government programs that harm the economy. I made a mental note to purchase some reusable straws myself.

But to my shock, one of my other colleagues laughed as she picked up her plastic straw from the counter. I knew her to be even more far to the left of the spectrum than the colleague who had asked for her smoothie sans straw.

“It doesn’t do any good,” she laughed, rather bitterly. I could hear the frustration in her voice. “It’s pretty useless to recycle or stop using single-use plastic until the government actually does something about the big polluters and corporations causing it in the first place.” She immediately realized how insensitive her comment sounded, and backtracked.

“Of course, it’s great that you do it,” she said sheepishly to the first colleague. “But it’s a drop in the bucket.”

The conversation shifted from there as we all walked back to the office. But I was puzzled.

Taking Personal Actions on Climate Change Has Nothing to Do With Politics

Republicans are often raked across the coals for not believing in climate change, and for a purportedly careless attitude about the environment. But in my experience, people on the right who support responsible climate actions, like I do, outnumber those who are stubbornly against any sort of environmental protection.

Yet, here was someone who was adamantly on the side of the political spectrum that is known for vocalizing concerns about climate change. This colleague raved about Representative Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez and the Green New Deal, and wanted to see corporate polluters regulated and exposed. Yet, she made no effort to reduce her own consumption of single-use plastic goods, and didn’t see any value in recycling.

I couldn’t believe that I had more in common in my views on the environment with the first colleague than my second colleague did. I understood her point, that the problem was too big for one person to make a difference. But her logic was massively flawed.

First, comes the obvious objection. Sure, one person changing individual habits may not change much. But if even half of the population on Earth began to conserve and recycle plastic, there would be a drastic change. Currently, only 

 of the world’s population recycles, while Americans recycle slightly more, around 

, although we still have lots of room to improve.

One person making habitual changes might inspire one other person to do the same. It did for me. I now own quite the collection of reusable straws. And since then, I’ve inspired my mom to invest in some reusable straws as well. If she can inspire even one other person to change as well, then the cycle will continue. This is how a movement grows, and how cultural values shift. One person has to stand out and be different, apparently at the risk of being ridiculed.

But beyond that, I still had a problem with her logic. What if the colleague refusing a straw didn’t inspire me to change my ways? What if spending her whole life recycling and avoiding single-use plastics didn’t inspire anyone else? She still made a difference. Of course, she didn’t make enough of a change to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by any measurable amount. But what about the turtle that was able to avoid getting one of her straws lodged in its throat? Some may think one turtle is inconsequential. But here I will reference a quote by Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, that continues to guide choices I make in life. “To the world you may be one person; but to one person you may be the world.”

Individual Action on Climate Change Is About Doing the Right Thing

My experience at lunch that day highlighted some bigger questions that seem to plague the political landscape these days. Why do we think the things we do mean nothing, but yet blame leaders as if the things they do mean absolutely everything? When did the right thing become something we care to do only if it makes a broad, sweeping change?

Lots of right things over time can add up to make a change. And the right thing is still right, even if it doesn’t change a whole lot. Whether each individual’s influence is large or small, every person’s actions can make the world either better, or worse. Saying otherwise exposes a very despondent view of the world, and perspectives that lack hope rarely change anything.

I’m concerned that my colleague’s way of thinking is popular with a lot of people who see the government responsibility key to solving America’s problems. A lot of my friends and colleagues favor big-government solutions over individual responsibility on a variety of issues. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say this is partially because frankly it’s a lot easier to make broad statements about the way the world should be than to address issues right in front of you. I know because I struggle with this too.

The climate conversation is just one example, but the problem with this logic is that it means you will forever be chasing an external problem. Like a game of Whac-A-Mole, the second you think you’ve conquered one problem, it springs up somewhere else. Controlling what is around you is difficult, and often impossible. But controlling yourself—that’s a sustainable way to change the world.

Fighting Climate Change Is Up to Us as Individuals

 a place for the federal government’s involvement in addressing climate change. Leaders on both sides of the political aisle need to get serious about the issues at stake, start having honest conversations and present realistic bills that can actually pass.

But in the meantime, everyday American citizens should be able to agree that we are responsible for the waste we produce and the resources we consume on an individual level. Whether on the left or the right, we should be able to find common ground by focusing on individual responsibility.

As voters and consumers, we often forget our power. If we want to see environmental policies change, we have to change what we look for in political leaders and what we support every day with our dollars. If we want corporations to pay more attention to climate issues, we have to change our consumption habits. Demand for environmentally friendly products and energy-saving innovations has already 

I believe we need a resurgence of personal responsibility and individual morality in the United States. Without such, we will only continue to place blame on others while society devolves into disillusionment.

A Republican who supports environmental protection explains why individual responsibility in climate change is just as important as government intervention.

Climate Change: Why Individual Responsibility Is So Important

It's no secret that the environment is in a dire state. All those years of burning coal and oil, buying clothes at an unnecessary speed and recklessly reproducing (among many other things) have finally taken their toll.

We are now officially on the brink, and seemingly interested governments are now passing legislation à la the Glasgow Climate Pact to try and limit the damage.

Naturally, the environmentalists who have been warning us for years are upping their recommendations.

Large brands and companies are implementing sustainability initiatives, such as Booking.com’s Travel Sustainable badge that highlights the most environmentally friendly hotels and Google Maps showing the CO2 damage for each journey option.

Yet nothing is really sinking in and, honestly, at this stage, I couldn’t care less.

As Batman once said to Wonder Woman, “We tend to act like the Doomsday Clock has a snooze button.” Which we kind of do. If you talk the analogy through, we can snooze until we’re late for work. The same goes for the climate crisis.

We can keep pushing back deadlines and pretending that the worst will happen 100 or 200 years from now, despite knowing the outcome. And why the fuck not? We don’t actually know when the worst will happen or how.

At least, from my knowledge, I don’t. My assumption is slowly over the years, as natural disasters are becoming more frequent and intense.

But even then, I’m kind of meh about the whole thing.

I Do What I Can, but I Shouldn’t Be Expected to Do It All

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for being a good citizen and doing my part. I never buy from brands like PrettyLittleThing, and I’m not one of those girls who needs a new outfit every day of the week. When I do buy clothes, I try to buy from quality brands such as AllSaints and Maje. But sometimes, I do wander into Zara and Mango.

It all depends on my budget at the time. Plus, Zara and Mango have some really cute pieces.

I have an app called Klima that measures my carbon footprint, and I offset as many of my actions as I can afford every month by investing in different climate projects such as planting trees in the rainforest and building more wind turbines. But because of the rise in energy bills, the general cost of living and the lack of salary increases, that figure is becoming less each month.

I recycle; I carry reusable cups; and I’m capable of drinking a drink without a straw. I do what I can within the limits of my resources and my patience.

But sometimes, when I hear the latest “Let’s do our bit to save the environment” suggestions in newspapers or as sponsored posts on my Instagram, I either think, “Get fucked, there’s no way I’m doing that,” or, “Well, that’s one privileged way of looking at things.”

I recently read about a new initiative called 

 that says to only buy three items of clothing a year, give up your car and limit flights to once every three years.

Sure, some people can do that. But what about those who can’t? What about those with small children or those who need to buy clothes because of weight loss/gain? If we didn’t travel, what are the millions of people who work in tourism going to do? What about those on food stamps?

Because the reality is—and it’s the same with veganism—not everyone can afford a certain lifestyle. Not everyone can afford to make sacrifices. And not everyone should.

There’s No Single Correct Way for Individuals to Combat Climate Change

In the diabolical society we find ourselves living in, being able to champion a cause is a privilege, even one as important as the climate crisis.

How I see things is like this: The world and the people in it are so far from perfect, and we need to have a lot of calm and open conversations about a lot of things. And yes, we should all be doing what we can to make the world better for the next generation. But each person isn’t responsible for all the problems.

You need to pick your battles, and you need to do things in a way that makes sense to you.

For me, it’s carbon offsetting where I can and making the small changes that suit my lifestyle. But my priority will be female equality, specifically in healthcare. For someone else, they might not give a flying fuck about their carbon footprint. Instead, they might be campaigning for disability rights or LGTBQ+ rights. Or more realistically, they might just be fucking surviving.

But disregarding everything—all the politics, all the statistics, all the everything—the hardworking, selfish side of me just wants to lead my life.

I’ve worked hard to get where I am and, with my money, I want to travel, and I want to stay in nice places, and I want to experience everything the world has to offer. I don’t want to be judged for the number of flights I take a year. I also don’t want to hear that taking a train is better and more enjoyable. I’m sure it is, but I don’t have those extra couple of days to travel slower. Being able to travel is a privilege (one that’s becoming harder when you factor in my energy bill). Being able to travel slowly is a next-level privilege and I’m not there. Yet.

It’s a complicated situation and about a million shades of gray, and there is no right or wrong way.

Governments and Corporations Should Lead the Charge

In my humble opinion, change on this scale needs to come from the top. It needs to come from those companies doing the most damage, and it needs to come from our leaders.

Call me idealistic, but if the governments of the world were serious about combating the climate crisis, why not install solar panels on every government and public building? Think of all the hospitals, schools, police stations, prisons, fire stations, libraries and government buildings that would be using renewable energy. The UN HQ already has them, so why not make it mandatory for all public buildings?

Sure, there’s lots of money to be made in oil and coal, but have we learned nothing from President Jimmy Carter? He knew how unstable energy supplies were (and still are) and fitted the White House with solar panels at the end of the 1970s. His hope was that the White House would be self-sufficient on clean energy. Those panels were removed seven years later, and because of a completely unjust invasion in Ukraine, we are now in the midst of an energy crisis.

But why would those who can actually make the change do so when they can emotionally blackmail us average folk into “playing our part”?

 found that just 100 fossil fuel companies were contributing to over 70 percent of emissions. A lot of important people also profit from coal and oil. Currencies and stock markets depend on it. Nonrenewable resources are still top commodities. But if we the people stopped using single-use plastic, thought more carefully about our purchasing decisions, recycled what we can and stopped going on holiday, all should be well in the world.

Fuck having a legal ban on producing plastic packaging and fast-fashion companies. That would be too easy.

Of course, I realize the topic is far more complex, especially as many developing countries are dependent on nonrenewable sources such as coal. Installing clean energy is expensive—it takes time and resources—and obviously, the government has other things they need and prefer to spend their money on.

And it really boils down to this: The governments of the world have the power to make the changes, but they don’t because it's not profitable. Instead, they make us take on the burden. So you do what you want to with your time and your money, and if you do feel compelled, a quick search of carbon offsetting programs and carbon footprint apps will yield heaps of results. Pick the ones that suit you, and make the changes you feel comfortable with.

Everyone is a work in progress. But everyone is also free to do what they want. We need to learn to respect those decisions and make tools and resources more accessible for all.

As individuals, we can do our part, but we shouldn’t carry all the blame for climate change.

Does My Lack of Interest in the Climate Crisis Make Me a Bad Person?

I was raised to believe that the natural world will soon be saved from its inherent corruptness. Then I discovered the beauty and healing powers of the earth, and I dedicated my life to the defense of wilderness and the prevention of global climate catastrophe.

Now I’ve come to recognize the flaws in environmentalism and the need to redefine the core values of human-nature relations. Environmental libertarianism calls us to be stewards and extend liberty to non-humans, rejecting human supremacy in favor of an inclusive view of people and the environment.

The Book of Revelation Creates Environmental Apathy

I grew up in the Midwest, specifically the upper-evangelical Bible Belt. Most of the landscape is farmed for corn (food for the food) and soybeans (fuel for the fuel) and most people go to church on Sunday, including my family. The church we attended was a country club-style mini-megachurch, a generic nondenominational house of Jesus. While I still value many of the ethics I was taught, especially the compassion Jesus extended equally to everyone, I remember coming away from sermons on the Book of Revelation feeling a distinct apathy towards the natural world.

The pastor’s words rang in my ears: “Revelation says Christ will return when Israel is in a state of peace. I was just there and I felt safer jogging in Jerusalem than in this town.” For the next few years, I had a smug outlook on environmental issues. Why does it matter if we trash this place if God is just gonna poof this shithole of a material realm out of existence pretty soon anyway? My environmental education in public elementary school was nonexistent, and when I finally got the opportunity to learn about it in eighth-grade science class, my teacher put it bluntly: “I believe that global warming is a hoax.” Though my early upbringing was riddled with climate change denial and apathy towards nature, I soon learned about the scientific reality of climate change and experienced the meditative power and beauty of nature.

In middle school and high school, I attended a survival-themed church camp nestled in the rolling hills and mixed forests of Michigan. I learned survival skills like foraging, tracking, and fire building. The camp was hosted by a somewhat progressive denomination, and the director had a unique Christian philosophy that interweaved elements of various religions and indigenous worldviews. His comparison of God and nature was almost pantheistic.

These weeks were transformative for my appreciation of nature. By learning to pick up forest queues like bird calls or animal scents, it felt like I was using all of my senses at once for their evolutionary purpose—to take in the rhythms and timbres of the forest and process them together in the moment, syncing up to the material universe and perhaps approaching a state of consciousness that is closer to understanding God. As I developed wilderness awareness skills and grew a spiritual connection to nature, online media drew me to the 

In my junior year of high school, I went to a semester-long environmental school in Northern Wisconsin. I studied wilderness literature, environmental science, sustainability and the history of exploration. Part of the curriculum was learning to cross-country ski, canoe and camp. It was a profound experience with amazing opportunities to connect with people and natural landscapes and understand more about natural processes and human-nature relations. When I got home, I was a far-left hippie-dippie explorer with big dreams of saving the climate.

Discovering the Dark Side of Environmentalism

I knew I wanted to leave my close-minded home county, so I set my sights on Colorado. I skipped my high school graduation to do a season of trail work in an AmeriCorps program. I roughed it almost the entire summer, camping on a hitch and living out of my car on the weekends. I was a dirtbag. I had a great time. But some of the projects felt meaningless. Carving out the National Forest to allow some obnoxious motorbikes to disturb the ecosystem seemed like the opposite of conservation. Spritzing invasive weeds with ashy water endowed by the full moon felt counterproductive.

After the season I enrolled in a Colorado state school to get a degree in Environmental Studies. Throughout the next three and a half years, my understanding of environmentalism shifted considerably. Academic study of the environment was even more depressing than I anticipated—the climate, biodiversity and humans are all absolutely fucked unless we as an entire species have a serious epiphany. Like, yesterday. One of the most disturbing theories I learned as to why we’re letting that climate doomsday happen was that our political infrastructure is fundamentally unable to solve climate change because reelection makes our politicians inevitably short-sighted. Also, when you add lenses of justice and resource distribution, you see that those in the world who are the least fortunate and least responsible for climate change are the first to suffer from its effects.

The thought that climate change disaster and corresponding civilization collapse are inevitable made me reexamine my identity as a privileged far-left environmentalist and question my fundamental beliefs. What can I do when shit starts hitting the fan? How can I save myself and my loved ones? How will I eat if an apple costs $50? My answer to these questions was farming. I got a job on a small organic farm where I picked and packaged vegetables. At first I didn’t mind it, but at the end of my second season I was burnt out by the sun and aching from the monotonous tasks. I also realized that the farm wasn’t a profitable venture, but essentially a prop kept up to attract homebuyers to the adjacent housing development so that the (Trump-supporting) owners of the operation could make their inherited fortune great again. I reexamined my purpose in life yet again. Breaking my back to sell expensive vegetables to privileged yuppies didn’t sound like an enticing career path.

Later, in school, I learned about criticisms of environmentalism. A lot of environmental theories are based on the writings of old sexist white guys who wanted to preserve “virgin forests” so they could personally and selfishly fuck them, while in reality this entire hemisphere was 

heavily shaped and managed by Native Americans prior to European disease and colonization.

 We kicked out people attached to landscapes in order to set up National Parks. We’ve exported that idea to other continents. 

The Maasai people in Africa were forced to leave the home they’ve known forever

, to abandon the ecosystems they’ve managed consistently for thousands of years, to preserve endangered charismatic megafauna like lions, giraffes and elephants. Along with that, environmentalism today is largely an elitist fad. Buzzwords like “organic,” “sustainability” and “green” are hijacked and desensitized by capitalism. Al Gore flies all around the world to tell people to reduce their carbon footprint. The glamour, hypocrisy and elitism of environmentalism is inauthentic and proliferates political partisanship around huge issues like climate change.

Today, I still struggle to reconcile all the beliefs I’ve held about the environment. The apocalyptic apathy I picked up in church still comes out from time to time, often combined with the feeling of imminent climate disaster. Other days on a hike I’ll stop and sit, absorbing the universe’s signals as channeled through the sounds, sights and smells of the landscape. In those moments I feel a belonging to the Earth and perhaps subconsciously closer to knowing God.

As I oscillate between these mindsets, I have elected the identity of an environmental libertarian. While I admire elements of regular old libertarianism, it’s troubling that there is little consideration for resource access or environmental impact. However, if we extend inalienable rights of freedom beyond humans, we can recognize the intrinsic value of nature and promote prosperity for our species and the Earth. It’s time to drop the Western Judeo-Christian assumption that humans are separate from, or reign supreme to, the natural world. We need to look at ourselves as a part of the environment and use our God-given and naturally-adapted gift of consciousness to foster biodiversity, sustainability and ecosystem health.

As we defend the fundamental liberties of our fellow humans to exist and have access to resources, we must also defend such rights for animals, plants, ecosystems, biomes and the global atmosphere.

I grew up in a conservative Christian household, then became an environmentalist. Now, I struggle to reconcile all the beliefs I’ve held.