Frieda Schumacher

I slump into my chair, staring blankly at the charts and data on my screen. The temperature anomalies, the sea level rise, the accelerating CO2 emissions—all point to a grim reality. This is not news to me. At 39, I have spent my entire career as a climate researcher in Potsdam, Germany, poring over such data.

But today, the weight of it all seems especially heavy. My mind drifts to the latest headlines: another senseless war, another push for more military spending. How absurd it is that we are so fixated on "security" while ignoring the most profound threat to our collective safety. Climate change is not some distant, abstract concern; it is here, reshaping our world in real-time. And yet, meaningful action remains elusive.

Over the past two decades, I have witnessed the pace of climate change accelerate alarmingly. Entire ecosystems are being pushed to the brink. Tens of thousands of species face extinction, a catastrophic loss of biodiversity that ripples through every corner of our planet. We are hurtling toward dangerous and irreversible tipping points. The science is clear, but the will to act is missing.

I feel a surge of anger and frustration. How can we continue to prioritize short-term gains and geopolitical posturing over the survival of our planet? Our capitalist model of prosperity, so deeply entrenched, seems hell-bent on self-destruction. We are arming ourselves to the teeth, preparing for wars that will be fought in a world increasingly hostile to human life. Inwardly, I have started to give up.

Perhaps, I think darkly, we don’t deserve any better. Maybe the earth needs to rid itself of us for nature to heal. Yet, in that bleak thought, I find a sliver of solace. The earth will endure, even if we do not. For now, I can only continue my work, documenting the changes and sounding the alarm, hoping against hope that someone, somewhere, will listen before it is too late.