“The Earth is what we all have in common.” – Wendell Berry. This profound truth now resounds with a tragic irony. As the planet groans under the weight of human activity, it becomes clear that while we all share the Earth, we do not share its burdens equally. Climate change, driven primarily by the relentless release of greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide, is a global crisis—but its impacts are distributed along lines of privilege and poverty. The Earth may belong to all, but some are paying a far greater price for its degradation than others.
The climate crisis is no longer a distant threat whispered in scientific journals; it is a roaring tempest, sweeping across continents and reshaping lives. Human-induced climate change, chiefly driven by the unchecked release of greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide, has brought us to the edge of an ecological precipice. Atmospheric CO₂ levels are now the highest they’ve been in over two million years, and the consequences are unmistakably dire. From the bleaching of coral reefs and the acidification of oceans to vanishing glaciers and violent weather patterns, the planet is sounding a clarion call for urgent change.
The devastation is uneven in its wrath. As with most global injustices, it is the world’s poorest and most marginalized populations—those least responsible—who suffer the most. The rich pollute; the poor perish. As Pakistani novelist Mohsin Hamid aptly said, “Empathy is about finding echoes of another person in yourself.” It is high time the world listens to those echoes resonating from flood-stricken villages and drought-scorched fields.
Climate change is accelerating species extinction, collapsing fragile ecosystems, and destabilizing the very systems that sustain life—land, water, food. The future portends graver threats if drastic cuts in emissions and structural reforms remain elusive. The poet T.S. Eliot once wrote, “This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.” Yet in the case of climate change, the end may come with both: silent extinction and thunderous storms.
Meanwhile, climate inequality intensifies. The wealthiest nations and individuals are the largest emitters, yet they are shielded by wealth and infrastructure. The poorest bear the brunt with few resources and little representation in decision-making. As the activist and author Naomi Klein argues in On Fire, “It is not climate change, it is everything change.” She unearths a deeper truth: our climate emergency is not simply ecological; it is a symptom of systemic exploitation—of nature, people, and future generations.
The year 2024 etched itself into history with ominous certainty: it was declared “almost guaranteed to be the hottest on record.” And it wasn’t just numbers on a chart. From blistering heatwaves to merciless floods, the destruction was tangible and relentless. The World Weather Attribution reports confirmed what many feared—many of these calamities were no longer random acts of nature but the direct consequence of human activity.
Pakistan, already teetering on ecological fragility, was pummeled. Heavy monsoon rains overwhelmed regions across South Asia. In just days, years of development were undone. Homes vanished, crops drowned, and futures crumbled. As the Quran reminds us, “Corruption has appeared throughout the land and sea by what the hands of people have earned.” The truth could not be more literal.
Globally, the scale was staggering: over 2,000 lives lost and an economic loss of $229 billion. The UAE saw two years’ worth of rainfall in a single day. More than 1,500 people drowned in West and Central Africa. In Saudi Arabia, over 1,300 pilgrims died during Hajj, many succumbing to extreme temperatures exacerbated by global warming. These are not isolated tragedies—they are the opening chapters of a shared story, one we have refused to rewrite.
At COP29 in 2025, leaders once again gathered under grand banners of unity and ambition. Some progress was made: a new global climate financing goal was set at $300 billion annually, and Article 6 of the Paris Agreement was activated to refine carbon markets. But the question remains: can these steps catch up to the catastrophe?
As Shakespeare’s Hamlet mused, “I must be cruel only to be kind.” We must be unsparing in confronting the inertia and hypocrisy of international climate politics. The time for diplomatic niceties has passed; the hour demands justice.
For Pakistan, the warnings have been persistent and punishing. The 2022 floods, the 2024 heatwaves, and now the unpredictable monsoons of 2025—our landscape tells the tale. Yet our response remains largely reactive. Our reliance on fossil fuels, inefficient irrigation, and unsustainable agriculture deepens our vulnerability.
We must chart a new course—one of resilience, equity, and innovation. That means transitioning to renewable energy, reforming agricultural practices, promoting community education, and investing in green infrastructure. As novelist Margaret Atwood observed, “It’s not climate change, it’s everything change.” The task before us is not only to adjust policies, but to fundamentally rethink our relationship with nature and one another.
Pakistan cannot afford to wait for the world to act. We must become architects of our survival. Green economies are not a utopian fantasy—they are a necessity. Investing in solar and wind energy, protecting wetlands, reforesting degraded landscapes, and training youth for climate-smart jobs are steps that promise both sustainability and dignity.
This transformation also requires moral courage. It means breaking with exploitative development models and choosing compassion over consumption. It means refusing to let cynicism silence action. The youth-led climate movements across the globe are already doing this. They are asking the right questions and demanding just answers. We must join them.
Hope is not passive. As Václav Havel wrote, “Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” May the horrors of 2024 not fade into memory as just another tragic year. Let 2025 be the turning point when Pakistan and the world chose action over apathy, justice over delay.
The climate clock is not just ticking—it is sounding an alarm. And we must respond, not as victims, but as visionaries.