Hope and Defeatism

(Originally published in Spanish at The Oil Crash. Translated by David Costalago and reviewed by Mark H. Burton and Manuel Casal Lodeiro.)

Dear readers,

Taking advantage of the recent celebration of Saint George’s Day^[1], we held a simple but nice event in my lab. Several researchers presented books they’ve recently published; there was a short poetry and music recital, the results of a survey on the role of science and scientists in society were shared, and finally, a brief video showcasing the activities of my research centre was shown. Throughout the event (which was actually quite short—just over half an hour), the point was repeatedly made that our work and our measurements show that the oceans—and by extension, the environment—are undergoing unprecedented and accelerating degradation in recent years. Yet, the emphasis remained on the need to promote hope. Not optimism about the situation—that would be absurd, given the data—but rather the hope that we might be able to reverse the situation. A hope, in truth, quite unfounded given how things have gone over the last few decades and how little attention has been paid to us scientists working on the Environmental Crisis. Significantly, the institutional video also played with the concepts of “science” and “hope,” which, to me, felt like a mistake—because in some way, these two concepts are usually understood, in practice, as mutually exclusive or contradictory.

And they are. Those who work (like us) in the field of environmental sciences are witnessing an unprecedented disaster in practically every environmental variable you can look at. As we’ve discussed many times at my blog, we have already crossed 6 of the 9 planetary boundaries identified 16 years ago, and 2 more may be exceeded in the coming years—one of them distinctly oceanic (acidification).

The thing is, crossing just one—just one!—planetary boundary puts the continuity of the human species at risk. And the longer this transgression continues, the greater the risk of entering an irreversible spiral of environmental degradation, a point of no return—a tipping point. That’s from overshooting just one of the nine. So what does it mean to have crossed six—and, if we carry on as we are for a few more years, eight—planetary boundaries?

After the event, I spent a long time thinking about all of this. What is the point of the widely accepted mantra in academia that we must transmit a message of hope? Even more troubling: when people like me present the plain, raw data in stark terms, it’s not unusual for even fellow scientists to label such discourse as “catastrophist” or “pessimistic,” even though what is being shown are just plain, factual data. Facts, in the end. It’s as if every time someone shows that the situation is dire, they’re required to offer some sort of incantation about the power of Science (capital S) and the ingenuity of Humanity (capital H), to absolve responsibility and make it clear that things will get fixed—though we have no clue how, at least for now.

Yet, I find it hard to think of a more anti-scientific attitude. Science must present things as objectively and dispassionately as possible, without letting our own beliefs bias the results, so that what we produce is valid for everyone—and from there, we can build what is needed.

And the data are staggering. Right now, the radiative imbalance—that is, the difference between the radiation the planet receives and the amount it reflects back into space—according to NASA satellite measurements, has quadrupled compared to 2002 levels.

Around 2014, there was a sharp change, and we went from 0.37 W/m² in 2002 to 1.37 W/m² today. Why this happened so quickly is likely related to several processes, such as the loss of Arctic ice (water absorbs more energy, whereas ice reflects it) and the sharp reduction in aerosol emissions from fossil fuel combustion, especially SO₂ in China, due to their efforts to address severe air pollution. It’s because of this imbalance that global warming has clearly accelerated in recent years, and we ended 2024 with a global temperature increase of +1.6°C compared to pre-industrial levels. At this rate, in just a few more years we’ll reach +2°C, which would be catastrophic for Spain, as it would mean temperatures of 50°C or more could occur frequently in summer, posing serious risks to human life, destroying ecosystems, increasing wildfires, etc. And that’s not to mention the changes already occurring in atmospheric and oceanic circulation, with unpredictable consequences. Our time to react to the Climate Emergency has been drastically reduced—and yet we keep talking about hope.

In terms of resources, the news is far from hopeful. The crisis triggered by fuel shortages continues to spread across Latin America and Africa, as we mentioned in a previous post; now the problems are hitting Mexico hard. There’s a copper shortage—critical for electrification—and we’re starting to see supply issues with all sorts of raw materials, from grains and cacao to various metals. In the middle of this serious and structural crisis, the U.S. has imposed tariffs that have disrupted global trade, pushing down oil prices (due to reduced consumption), which in turn undermines future investment—especially in U.S. fracking—and guarantees a future shortage of oil. On top of that, while the war in Ukraine, the extermination in Gaza, and 17 other forgotten wars all continue, military tensions are also escalating between India and Pakistan. The struggle for fuels, metals, food, water… it’s only going to intensify in the years to come. But we’re told to cling to hope.

I find it amusing when people accuse me of being defeatist and pessimistic. In truth, I’m a very optimistic person. Because here I am, fighting despite the overwhelming evidence, because I still believe the situation can improve, because I still believe we can make it. Those who throw in the towel, finding moral cover in hope—they are the real defeatists, because they do nothing to try to change things, because they accept as inevitable both what we have and what’s coming.

Colleagues in the scientific world: we must abandon, once and for all, the absurd insistence on hope—the opiate of our collective conscience. That’s not what we need. The response we must give is not hope, but activism. We must go out there and explain what is happening, denounce what is happening, be confrontational about what is happening, oppose what is happening. It is our inescapable moral obligation—because we are the ones who know what is happening. As Albert Einstein said: “Those who have the privilege to know have the duty to act.”

We must go out there to defend our fellow human beings and all living things. Because there is no struggle more worthwhile, no cause more just. And this one calls on us.

Hope, no: activism and justice, yes!

Notes

[1] April 23th, Sant Jordi / San Jorge, the patron saint of Aragon and Catalonia.