Accepting that lasting environmental protection is likely impossible doesn’t mean giving up
Peterborough Examiner – April 19, 2025 – by Drew Monkman
When I was still teaching, Earth Day was a major event on our school calendar. It wasn’t just a day—it was a celebration and a time of action. We organized litter cleanups, ran fundraisers for environmental causes, and always capped it off with a big assembly. One of the assembly traditions I remember most fondly was singing a song called “Signs of Hope.” I can still hear the chorus in my mind:
“Signs of hope are coming. They’re beginning to appear. Signs of hope are everywhere. The time to act is here.” At the time, I didn’t just sing those words—I truly believed them.
Fast forward to the present. Instead of a time of inspiration, April 22 has become a bittersweet occasion to realize how little progress we’ve made. As much as we have seen some conservation victories and exciting, low-carbon technological breakthroughs in recent decades, the overall trend continues to be one of ever-worsening environmental degradation. As for “signs of hope”, there are woefully few.
In the face of such a sobering reality, how do those of us who care deeply for the natural world move forward? What mindset must we cultivate to carry on? Is it still possible to find joy in nature—and to feel moved to act on its behalf? I believe the answer is yes, even in the absence of hope of long-term success.
Implications of our worldview
According to CBC Vote Compass, only 4% of Canadian voters list the environment as a top concern. That’s deeply disheartening—but amid the economic anxiety and global instability stirred up by Trump, it’s not surprising.
Still, this goes deeper than any one crisis. How we view and value nature stems from our worldview—the mental framework of beliefs and assumptions that shape how we understand everything from material well-being to society to the natural world.
Since at least the Industrial Revolution—and arguably as far back as Classical Greece—the dominant Western worldview has treated humans as separate from nature. The Earth is seen less as a living system we belong to, and more as a resource bank to serve human needs. This outlook assumes that problems like pollution, resource depletion, climate change and maybe even species loss can be solved by human ingenuity alone. Unlike ecological worldviews that recognize limits and reciprocity, ours leaves little space for stewardship or restraint.
Our global economy is built on the idea of endless growth—GDP, profits, consumption. Environmental protection challenges that model at every turn because it demands limits, sacrifices, and a shift in priorities. Even well-designed policies like the egregiously demonized carbon tax—essentially a financial incentive to make climate-friendlier choices— has been rejected as too burdensome. If we can’t embrace even that, what hope is there?
Given this worldview, it’s understandable that Canadians are now more focused on economic self-reliance. That’s why we still talk eagerly about new pipelines, despite knowing how urgently we must reduce greenhouse gas emissions.
If environmental concerns are ever to take center stage, it will require a radical shift in values—from endless consumption toward resilience, well-being, and a renewed sense of kinship with nature. But so far, there’s little to no evidence that such a transformation is coming.
To be clear, I’m not placing blame. We didn’t choose this worldview—it’s the water we swim in. And I feel just as engulfed by it as anyone else.
Disconnection from nature
Our guiding story explains humanity’s huge disconnection from nature. This disconnection is so profound that most people have almost no sense of the staggering loss of biodiversity or how serious the climate crisis really is. For most of the world’s population – and by no fault of their own – even having these concerns amounts to a privilege.
This doesn’t mean than no one cares. Millions of people care deeply and are doing amazing work. We need look no further than all of the wonderful conservation and climate initiatives that are happening locally. The problem is that the dominant worldview thwarts collective action at a scale that could make a difference.
Grieving the loss
Given all the implications of our broken relationship with nature, how do we move forward? First, let’s turn to the wisdom of Joanna Macy. Macy is an American scholar, known for her work on how we can confront social and ecological crises with honesty, courage, and emotional depth. Macy highlights the importance of grieving for the natural world. For her, grieving is not a weakness, but a vital expression of love and connection. It’s also a vital part of our path toward coping and continuing to take what action we can. Recognizing that we are not alone in our grief fosters solidarity, reduces isolation and increases resilience in the face of ever-worsening destruction.
If you’re heartbroken and ever-anxious about the destruction of habitats, loss of species and increased climate chaos, this is a good thing. It means you’re paying attention and are still connected to the “more than human”. However, it’s a response that our dominant culture tries to numb.
Accepting where we’re at
Despite so much evidence to the contrary, many people still believe that an ecological reawakening is possible and can happen in time to head off the worst environmental impacts. Without such a belief, it’s assumed that we’ll wallow in bleakness, abandon taking action, demoralize those around us and guarantee failure. Environmental thinkers like Jem Bendell call this “the necessity for environmental Pollyana-ism”.
But, is it not possible that the opposite might be true? In other words, that all of the negatives listed above might be less likely if, with eyes wide open, we fully acknowledge the reality that climate change and species loss will only get worse? Although painful at first, this view absolves people from having to make any further effort to “hope against hope” that worsening environmental destruction be prevented.
David Suzuki has said multiple times that despite decades of advocacy, education, and activism, he feels a profound sense of failure. Although he acknowledges that environmental awareness and engagement with nature has increased exponentially, there’s still a huge gap between awareness and action at a scale that would really make a difference. He famously wrote: “If I judge my life’s work by what’s happening to the environment, then I’ve been a failure.” It might just be that the kind of success he was hoping for was never possible.
What about the future?
Some might say we can’t afford the luxury of stark realism—for our children’s sake. But facing the truth doesn’t mean giving up on them or on nature. We must continue to do all we can to nurture children’s knowledge of and connection to nature. Today’s kids marvel at the natural world just as much as any generation before them. They are also the stewards of tomorrow, no matter how bad things might get.
In some ways, there’s comfort in knowing that children don’t feel the same depth of loss that adults do. Their sense of what’s “normal” in nature is shaped only by what they’ve seen during their lifetimes—not by memories of what once was. They may never experience birds “dripping from trees” during spring migration, but they still find wonder in what remains. And that wonder matters.
Nothing in what I’ve written today means we should stop enjoying, protecting, or restoring the natural world. Quite the opposite—it’s a moral imperative. It also brings joy and meaning. We can and must act for nature in the here and now, even if we no longer believe our efforts will change the larger trajectory. Making peace with that reality allows us to keep going and protects us – at least somewhat – from continual outrage, anger and anxiety.
So this Earth Day, take a moment to cherish what’s still here—and do what you can to help it endure as long as possible.
