The third week of June 2026 will be remembered as the week when Europe discovered heat. That it happened during the London Climate Action Week was sheer coincidence, a lucky coincidence even. As a professional working in the ‘sustainability’ space, I follow scores of climate and sustainability leaders and not surprisingly, my LinkedIn feed overflowed with opportunistic humblebrag, sharp analysis and emotional overwhelm, all uniformly anchoring their posts to the unbearable heat. It was a good time to be talking about climate change. It was also a hyperreal moment, as Baudrillard describes a moment when the simulation seems more real than reality - when the reality of a planet that has been warming for decades seemed less real than this digitally mediated discovery of the fact, thanks to an opportune heatwave.

For 20-year-old Shahida who lives under a Delhi flyover, however, heat is the concrete floor she lives on, the air she breathes, and the worry that is embedded in her brain as she wonders whether her toddler will survive the summer. But Shahida won’t be at any climate action week anywhere and won’t be posting on LinkedIn either. Nor will the millions of garment factory labourers, farmers, or construction workers around the world who have for long been suffering the physical and psychological impact of this human-induced calamity but have no soap box to sermonise from. The ninth Lancet Countdown on Health and Climate change report led by a UCL research team reveals that, globally, a life a minute is lost due to climate change induced excessive heat. In the heatwave of June 2026, Europe, which has historically seen significantly fewer deaths due to extreme heat suffered the tragic loss of over 2025 lives.

This essay isn’t about the importance of including marginalised voices. The IPCC, the UN secretary general, and many senior world leaders have made that point quite eloquently and several times over. It isn’t about ethics or the moral imperative of climate change action either. It is about the necropolitics of climate change that determines who can live and who will die, and why the sustainability discourse, which finds itself at the crossroads, is being called upon to vote for or against this crucial question.

As a white-collar professional who has lived in Europe for over two decades, escaping harsh summers is a privilege that came with my passport - until this year, when my trip to India in the peak of the summer brought me closer to the reality of climate change than I had physically been in a long time. I was in Chennai working remotely, part of a Cambridge-based team delivering an online programme for a group of senior business leaders. The air-conditioning in my home office stopped working for a few hours. For a while, I carried on, doing my utmost to ignore the sense of suffocation and breathlessness I was feeling. I feared I might faint on camera. My feet were uncomfortably warm, hot even. I felt flat and dazed, zoned out. But through all this, my Teams persona was a professional poker face. During the coffee break, desperate for a quick solution, I headed into the bathroom, filled a bucket with water and kept my feet submerged in it for the rest of the three-hour session. My laptop told me the temperature was 38°c feeling like 45°c. The conversations around balancing short term business priorities with climate change challenges felt disengaged and uselessly distant from the urgency I was feeling in that room. As a simulation, it felt as though I inhabited a different future version of a burning planet to the one which could afford a relaxed discussion about climate change.

But the climate action world has seen further setbacks in the past few years. Since Trump happened, the western world has resigned itself to chaos, and the dominant narrative is of an uncertain, unpredictable world where a social media post can set off a war and a narrow strip of sea can hold global supply chains to ransom. Leaders of all statures, including Presidents, Prime Ministers and multinational CEOs have shaped their leadership strategy around this framing. The scramble this year is to stay afloat in the short term faced with geoeconomic confrontation, misinformation and disinformation, societal polarisation and extreme weather events, in that order, although climate change retains its top position in the long term, when it comes.

For me and many others working in the sustainability space, the change in priorities came swiftly, disproportionate to the decades it had taken for governments and businesses to get behind the Paris agreement and the Sustainable Development Goals.

The green economy and sustainability industry is a trillion-dollar industry. It covers a plethora of sectors and creates jobs in technology, construction, academia, non-profits, consulting, reporting, certifying and communications, to name a few. The moral momentum that spawned this industry and inspired disruptive innovation is now heavily reliant on capital commitment and government incentives, both of which are steered and shaped by politics and geoeconomics, and a combination of these.

What started off as a crusade for ‘our common futures’ was turned in some quarters into a growth strategy that over time became embroiled in the very playbook that had caused the problems in the first place, and this story, well known in climate action spaces, is an important sub-plot that reveals the foundational flaws in the design highlighting the importance of history in such analysis.

In the early 1970s, when conversations around human-induced climate change did not feature prominently in political circles, the publication of now widely read books such as Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, and Limits to Growth by Donella Meadows did generate interest. But the crucial intervention of the United Nations Conference on the Human Environment initiated by Sweden was a turning point and in some ways a lost opportunity. Indira Gandhi, the former Prime Minister of India, delivered a widely quoted address highlighting the inextricable link between poverty and environmental damage. The words she spoke to call out western hypocrisy in denying development for the global south, particularly its poorest who cleared forests to keep body and soul alive, was manipulated to deflect from the excessive consumption of the west and instead frame solutions to address climate change around green growth and development. While this in itself was not a bad idea, the template that informed the solutions to drive growth and development was to a great degree influenced by commercialism and to many this was an avenue for profit-making. The political call for justice was subsumed into a weaker discussion on a moral imperative towards a more sustainable world and the role of governments and businesses in delivering it. The moral imperative meant the switch could be turned off when other priorities took hold. And this is where we find ourselves now.

As decisions are being made on what’s next for the sustainability world, what should really motivate those who were privileged enough to find themselves at the London Climate Action Week is a determination to centre justice and appreciate the relational politics that is needed to prevent the spread of heat-induced deaths currently predominant in the world’s poorest countries from visiting the west with the same intensity. Here too, it will be the poorest and the voiceless that will suffer the most. This is a moment to recognise that the politics of sustainability is in the hands of commerce. While purpose can motivate the right decisions, when weighed down by pure commercial motivation, it is forced to overlook the politics of climate justice and take slow, disproportionate steps that do not address the real problems facing society and businesses that operate within it.

There is no denying that commerce is and will continue to be hit by climate change challenges. But this is a rare moment when sustainability has gone mainstream and surfaces as risk, as an urgent need for resilience, and as a strategic priority to keep businesses viable in the long term. This is also a time to take strategic action learning from and including the needs of those who are closest to the impending catastrophe.

Climate change action is a political issue and the science that evidences the growing risks is fact, not opinion. The suffering of those most exposed is a barometer of how bad things are and it won’t just be supply chains that will be affected if critical climate tipping points are breached. Addressing inequality keeps humanity and the social fabric that we are part of, safe. We need to alleviate the suffering of Shahida who lives under the flyover in Delhi for our own sakes because it is only through understanding the inextricability of our relationship and interdependence on each other, including nature, that we can save ourselves.

I am sticking to the theme of my in-progress book on Moving Theory by casting a different lens on this movement. I may have mentioned my interest in politics, political theory, cultural studies – and the book I am working on is to some extent about posthumanism. My first Substack piece was on ‘The not-so-subtle art of the dark enlightenment’. I am moving theory this time by drawing inspiration from a less-cyborg, more-natural side of my thinking and being.

This piece is about gardening but written by a non-gardener. I am a so-called landlord – of a tiny piece of earth that I can grow whatever I like on especially because it is not overlooked and can therefore not be an eyesore for a sensitive neighbour. I could turf it, fill it with concrete, build a tiny paddle pool, extend my home with some planning permission, grow pretty flowers, get a landscape artist to design a teensy Japanese garden – well you get the drift.

But I chose to go with a wild garden. A lot of the credit goes elsewhere – soil, seeds, sunlight, rain, bees, butterflies, air, water and earthworms. A well-informed friend gave me some tips on how to get started. I also downloaded an app to identify what I hoped would grow. I don’t spend hours weeding (I wouldn’t know how to identify one) or disciplining the various inhabitants of my garden. They do as they please most of the time.

I broadcasted the seeds around June. These are pictures I took earlier this week. Yeah – quite wild - and I have no idea what to do. For instance, to my eyes, they look great and I take pride in the birds, bees and butterflies the flowers seem to attract. I have also spotted all sorts of bugs and insects. I need another app to identify them. Maybe later, for another piece on Moving Theory. Anyway, here are some pictures.

I estimate that around 40 per cent of the garden is covered in fig-leaf goosefoot and mugwort (if this is wrong, blame the app. Reliable information is critical).

Figleaf goosefoot is occasional where I live and considered a weed in some places. Wikipedia also suggests it has Irano-Turanian origins and is quite common in parts of Europe including Poland, Czech Republic etc. I am also told it can be seen in arable land, manure heaps and waste places. Mine are growing outside of these, I can assure you. Mugwort are quite common and some species have medicinal value and used in Chinese medicine. We also have Japanese and Korean varieties and in Europe they are known to exist since the Iron Age.

I also read that foragers love them and use them to make all sorts of delicious dishes including tea, soup and pesto. Now should I let them grow wild or control how much of this is allowed in my territory?How much is too much? I am also not sure I would enjoy a cup of mugwort tea or a plate of mugwort-pesto pasta. Should I strictly go by what I think ‘deserves’ a place in my garden or have respect for what the butterflies and bees think? I have spotted some pretty butterflies that visit every day and wonder what they would feel if they came in one day found their homes and food gone. Butterflies and bees are also becoming rarer these days - dangerously so.

There are some other plants too - but less dense by the look of it. They add some beautiful colour. I wonder how they appear to birds, bees and butterflies.

My app tells me what I have here is: clockwise - cornflower, common poppy, borage, Hungarian chamomile, bitter bottle gourd, calendula, charlock and viper’s-bugloss. The poppy in the centre is not a ‘common’ poppy.

The bitter bottle gourd was planted with a lot of love and came from a pack labelled ‘courgettes’ if I remember correctly. I suspect the app has it wrong this time because if it is indeed a bitter bottle gourd, just 1.2 mg of cucurbitacins compounds could do you much harm. Question is should I get rid of it or wait for evidence to see if it is indeed a courgette? How much misinformation is coming from the app? Or maybe the garden centre did not do a good job with the labels?

The chamomile has multiple uses as a flavouring, an ingredient in cosmetics etc., although not always safe for those with particular health conditions.

The poppy has a lot of sentimental value and looks very pretty. Its habitat description is quite interesting too - I wonder where mine came from and how far they travelled to be here.

I thought the cornflower was a common plant until I read the Wikipedia page and learned also that it is an archaeophyte and introduced in the Iron Age.

The borage is one to preserve - pleases the eye and the palate, apparently. It is also believed to be a good companion plant (cooperation? collaboration?) although there are some toxic varieties.

The calendula is a medicinal herb, some species used by the Romans and Greeks in ritual ceremonies and at one point thought to be of more value for magic than medicine. Complex history, this one.

I haven’t forgotten the charlock - both a weed during plentiful times and a food during famines.

So, I have some questions:

• Should I limit the spread of figleaf and mugwort to allow other plants to flourish?

• Should I regulate where the ‘wild plants’ grow so I can control how the garden looks and what it does? What sort of categorisation would let me make a neat distinction between weed and welcome plant and to what extent should I question this categorisation in light of the information that I now have?

• Should I gather some data on what plants are native to my garden and therefore have a better chance and right to grow and thrive here? Should I go all the way down to the Iron Age or just stick to the past two centuries?

• Should I attempt to investigate whether there are plants in my garden that are fewer in number but quite dominant in the way they use up the resources in the garden and demand more water and nutrition? Maybe the data I am using is misleading and I need to dig deeper to unearth helpful facts?

• Is there a point in looking at the bigger picture? Focus on what the bees and butterflies like so that there will be enough food in the world to eat - a little bit of disorder in my garden might serve a bigger purpose.

The garden certainly got me thinking about moving theory and the politics of identity and difference through these metaphors. Meanwhile, there has been news this week about ‘unsustainable’ illegal immigration, the tech prosperity deal, and a growing group of young protestors outside Google Deep Mind on hunger strike. As political parties that wish to remain relevant engage in the art of realpolitik by attempting to correctly read the room (helped or hindered by algorithms), it may well end up being a case of winning electoral mileage but not stability. For that we need a close reading of history, an engagement with questions of justice and the courage to resist and challenge the Goliaths of our time as Luke Kemp argues. That is more about politics and less about playing musical chairs with the empty seat of power. Meanwhile, I will let you know how things go with the garden.

Everyone (and their dog) is on substack these days. I am finally here too, I think. This substack is about and for a book project. I realise this is a crazy time to be writing a book. The clever ones are calling what we are experiencing a 'polycrisis', popularized by the historian Adam Tooze. The WEF of 2023 was where Adam Tooze’s polycrisis got its big moment - anything man-made or not that was too complex to understand or overcome got put into the mix of what’s driving us all nuts. So, the COVID-19 pandemic, the war in Ukraine, probably add Gaza and Israel-Iran to the mix, Trump tariffs and even the fallout with Musk - you get the drift. Also, we are floating in a zone of constant and sustained shocks – a cognitive war zone – and so while you may recognise the time stamp of this piece, there is nothing to say what bigger shock could be round the corner that will pulverize the shocks that came before into obscurity. Of course, these bigger shocks too will get thrown into the polycrisis basket.

This is the kind of time when one wonders if there is a getaway, an off-the-grid existence that can be meaningful without the pain and sense of hopelessness. Meaningful yet relatable.

One version of the clever one’s solution to this problem is the dark enlightenment. To know more about this, one can read Yarvin’s biography in the New Yorker or Nick Land’s blog. The approach is straightforward and cuts to the chase. The end justifies the means – it is a ‘just do it’ approach to the polycrisis.

Put simply, enlightenment had got it all wrong. The faith and hope that human rationalism would prevail and help carve a world where reason ruled, science paved the way for enlightened living and where equality and liberty meant something was all a pipe dream.

Dark enlightenment rids us of these fanciful and vague notions of egalitarianism and freedom.

Peter Thiel and other tech barons ‘no longer believe that democracy and freedom are compatible’. Instead, they argue that we need lean and mean teams promoting operational efficiencies, optimising performance and maximising profits and growth. Those most capable, those most resourced, they argue, need to get ahead, unfettered. Well, as for the rest, they point to Darwin.

These tech-utopianists subscribe to the view that the idealisitic and false notion of egalitarianism in a world that is predicated on the survival of the fittest is a clever libertarian ploy to keep people believing, to keep the bewildered herd hoping that the power of democracy will eventually balance the scales in their favour. Dull, inept politicians, the corrupt fake news media and career bureaucrats meanwhile use the libertarian ideology for their own ends with no real progress made in terms of growth or profitability.

Post the election of Trump, this language and ideology has gained significant momentum, the need to be subtle no longer relevant or strategic. What we are witnessing is a story that has been in the making for a long time. One that most of us are only waking up to. In this narrative, the election of Trump as President for now and potential CEO and Monarch-in-waiting is part of a bigger technoauthoritarian project, one that will eventually create a world marked by exceptionalism, where the fittest and the most capable will create ‘network states’ that can, fuelled by techno-capitalist methods, accelerate our progress towards the next stage of human evolution.

If, like me, you are disturbed by the ratio of human to cyborg in this imaginary, you’d probably see that the clever ones are not so clever after all. Powerful and influential, perhaps, but still deluded and evidently the puppets of the technology that is now using the building blocks in its DNA to create more and more cyborg. A DNA written by certain types of humans - mostly elite, white, privileged, CIS-gendered male - and those that clone their thinking and doing to stay in the game. Indeed, I am inspired by the potent arguments of French Philosopher, Bernard Stiegler, most known for his work on technics. As Stiegler argues, technology is central to the formation of human subjectivity and plays a key role in human cultural formations. If one looks back at the decades since Zuckerberg built his machine that ran on human negativity, there have been disclosed, discovered and undisclosed social experiments that have shaped our lives and cultures in more ways than we realise.

An extrapolation of the idea of technogenesis (how humans shape the tools that shape us or the co evolution of humans and machines) in the context of this skewed ratio of human to cyborg (think digital platforms, AI) suggest a world where the human is increasingly written out of the cyborg DNA script as techno- and cyborg culture prevails leaving behind mere traces of human nature and culture. While all human life and non-human life will be put in the path of existential threat, the cyborg script is of course written by certain dominant categories of human.

So, should we entrust our fates in the hands of these not-so-clever ones? Or has that ship sailed already? Google’s recent bet on fusion worries me. This too is apparently a part of the dark enlightenment playbook, a decoupling from dependence on nature, (remember less nonhuman, less human and eventually mostly cyborg).

The book project I am working is also about disentanglements and re-weaving. It also originally started in a space far removed, where technics were not as metastasized and a space that prefigures the exclusionary social construct of the human. Not necessarily a past world, but a present one that recreates good times for the nonhuman, as Sylvia Wynter would refer to the category of human life I am alluding to. But the book is now inevitably drawn into this discussion of alternate worlds. How else, can I, in this techno-engineered world draw your attention to alternatives, not just mine but others, worlds that are fecund with possibilities and are not for quitters or exit-ers. I will keep writing.

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