
Here in the UK, we are officially smack in the middle of autumn in our household. That time of the year when you switch on the heating depending on how cold your feet feel. It is still a few days, or weeks, before we will switch to the thermostat’s programmed timer schedule. That will be the onset of winter for us. Even if winter will officially still be a few weeks away on the calendar. It takes getting used to the idea of wearing a coat and knowing that it isn’t officially winter yet. Or wearing a light jacket when stepping out on a summer evening. Or not knowing at all if an umbrella needs to be carried on a day out. I can only attribute such niggles to third world immigrant problems.
Making adjustments in your wardrobe routine to adapt to the idiosyncrasies of British weather aside, it still feels remote that the start of a weather cycle can be tied to a date. Living almost the entirety of my life in subtropical South Asia, the simplicity of the early part of my growing up years was shared by the weather too. Sunny and blazing hot, tempered and cooled by the monsoon, ascending into winter before breaking down into a brief period of pleasantness that would quickly be consumed by the heat. The monsoon season is the lifeline of that world, breathing life at a time when summer’s infernal blaze could’ve left nothing behind to revive.
Yet, in my own lifetime, I have lived long enough to see the monsoon shifting. Arriving late, sometimes never, sometimes too much.
The only way I can reconcile the idea of dates tied to weather is what my father once told me about the monsoon. Growing up in our native village, everyone knew when the rains would arrive. That was normally in the first week of June, and they would time the sowing of crops to sync with that routine. Every year, like clockwork, the first drops of rain would arrive at the same time.
Now, the idea of such dates only feel like a reminder of that bygone time.
In the much smaller period that I have experienced the British weather, I can say that the summer this year was quite glorious and a long one at that. For someone hailing from a warm place, this change feels like nothing to complain about. On the contrary, rather something to enjoy. Spend more time with the kids in the park, more barbecues with friends, more trips to the beach. Underneath all the fun that warm weather brought this year, I kept carrying the guilt of knowing this probably isn’t normal and we aren’t supposed to be enjoying it.
Is it really going to keep getting only worse from here on? The beauty of life is that we go about it thinking that the worst bits are not for us, but for everyone around us. Just like at the time it was cool to smoke, not very long ago, the smoker felt a sense of invincibility only afforded by the courage and folly of youth. Only till that wasn’t the case. Could it be this evolutionary trait that blinds us from thinking of what we are hurtling towards? I can’t say anything about where the earth currently is on the timeline between youth and old age. Although at the pace we are moving, it does feel like being safely in the middle age zone.
I’m old enough to remember a time when smoking was allowed on planes. As a child, there was a fascination in watching billows of smoke rising from the rows ahead of me, which would begin as soon as the no smoking sign was switched off. Young enough to be unaware at that time, but smoking in public had slowly started becoming discouraged. It wouldn’t take too long before smoking would be completely prohibited on planes, and then enclosed public spaces like offices. Tobacco advertising and sponsorships would stop. Cigarette packaging would become plain, carrying graphic warnings about the hazards of smoking.
All of which started because science was able to establish a causal link between smoking and its effect on health. The earliest, and possibly the most influential, study by British researchers Doll & Hill on the effects of smoking started in the 1950s and has been going on till now, more than fifty years later, resulting in the largest study of this kind. Findings from this and another study by Wynder & Graham around the same time in the US established the negative effects of smoking, becoming generally accepted within the scientific community. It would take more than a decade for cigarette packs to start carrying warnings. Taxes on cigarette packs kept going up, using price as a deterrent for smokers. And only in the 2000s, did it become outlawed to smoke in public spaces.
Of course, there was tremendous resistance from tobacco companies, ranging from heavyweight lobbying, peddling of misinformation and even lying under oath during public testimony.
What led to the eventual state of affairs as we know them today was a combination of scientific proof, public opinion and activism, and legislation. Of the three, the biggest changemaking effect was government intervention and introduction of laws that forced tobacco companies to yield, discouraged smokers from continuing and new smokers from taking up.
In many ways, the movement for addressing climate change isn’t working very differently. There are maybe parts of it which could be termed as radically different or innovative, but then we are fighting a very different problem. Yet, thinking about how long it took for something like smoking to be dealt with—whose effects were confined to the individual and their proximate environment, and would be experienced within the lifetime of the individual—the effectiveness and urgency of solving something whose effects would be felt by future generations doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.











