It has been little over a week since the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released its pivotal report on the true extent of global climate change. All at once, the panel’s findings were both predictable and shocking; a stark look at what we all knew was coming, and outcomes that seemed, for the past few years, to be far more remote than they really are.

Nuclear energy is no stranger to the ‘grey area’.  On the one hand, it represents a statistical dream for those looking to marry sustainability with modern life; capable of maintaining a continuously high output more than capable of meeting the needs of thousands – all at a lower cost than coal or gas, and without any of the harmful consequences of carbon emissions – poses it as something of an ideal solution.

Any discussion on climate change – whether it takes place between world leaders, economists, activists or anyone else – boils down to CO₂, and the various ways we can work to mitigate its production. The climate crisis is fuelled by many different factors and harmful emissions but, CO₂ has rightfully taken a central role in both our concerns and, and our efforts.

There is a duality to Bill Gates’ writing; a core message to humanity, split into two sentences of equal importance, and, if ignored, equal consequence. The first is this: carry out the solutions we have found. The second: find what is missing. When practiced in tandem, these two separate clauses create an endless cycle of action and reflection, taking responsibility before learning what those responsibilities are – and, of course, why they are – before, of course, taking responsibility again.

Craig Foster’s ‘My Octopus Teacher’ is proof that beneath the amorphous and kaleidoscopic skin of the octopus, there is something more – a message that could not be more relevant to the vertiginous state of human life today. What sets it apart from other documentaries, however, is the ways in which it can appeal directly to the individual. Rather than bringing our position within the entirety of humankind into sharp relief, it plays to a different set of emotions we all possess – and in a much quieter, slower way than some of the epic and cinematic pieces we have written on in the past. 

The global effort against climate change has been brought much closer to the forefront over the past few years, with new initiatives, grants, plans and proposals being put forth by governing bodies with increasing frequency.

In the UK, new measures as varied as the export tariff for those producing their own renewable energy, local efficiency incentives, the now-defunct Green Homes Grant, company and road tax benefits on electric cars, and new energy performance standards for the domestic construction sector comprise just a small part of the impetus driving both public and private sectors toward a more sustainable future.

For many years now, the UK has been preparing itself for an uphill battle against its own carbon footprint. From the individual household and the solitary car on the morning commute, to the transport, agricultural and manufacturing sectors, the country’s way of life has proven itself untenable as we struggle to steer ourselves away from a future of devastation, and every area of existence as we know it seems to represent a significant contributing factor.

For the most part, the concept of air pollution remains abstract. Even now, as levels are reaching higher than ever before, and attempts at raising awareness are growing more aggressive, it is easy for many of us, particularly in the UK, to ‘forget’ about the issue unless the statistics are placed directly under our noses. 

The underlying theme uniting each episode of Zac Efron’s Netflix Original docuseries, Down to Earth, is one of harmony. As a traveller and presenter, his mission is to cultivate a strong synchronisation between his own health and wellbeing, and that of the planet itself – to strengthen his personal relationship with Earth through an increased understanding of the ways in which it functions, and how those basic functions can fulfil his own needs.