There are rapidly growing reports of grief, anxiety and traumatic stress because of the existential threat posed by climate breakdown and ecological devastation. Can we lament without falling into despair,
and resolve to live humbly and well in a collapsing world?

The year I was born, Francis Fukuyama published a book called The End of History and the Last Man. He argued that humanity had finally reached its ideological evolution – Western liberal democracy would be the final form of human government. While there might still be temporary setbacks, the markets and ­parliamentary democracy would win out. Fukuyama was not alone in feeling this way: my history teachers at school also marched to the beat of liberal progress, convincing us that we lived in a world that would only improve: the more we know, the better we get. The more we know, the better we get. 1992 feels like a long time ago.

The year I was born, the surface temperature of the Earth was well above the 1951-1980 average. This has been true every single year of my life. Barring 2011, every year since my birth has entered the top 10 warmest years on record. We teeter on the brink of climate chaos, our political and economic ideologies refusing to catch up to data. In less than 30 years, this promise of an end to history has turned out to be little more than a fantasy. Many of us are angry. Many more are already dying.