Is It Ethical to Travel During the Climate Crisis?

A Snapshot of Iceland and Climate Guilt

Iceland has always been at the top of my travel bucket list. So, when my dad retired and proposed a celebratory trip, how could I say no? Within 3 weeks, an itinerary filled with geysers, glaciers, and ice caves was booked. As a geography student, I was particularly excited to explore this foreign landscape. Still, I couldn’t help but remember this funny little thing called climate change. One of my first-year modules was named Planet Under Threat. While there was some variation, each lecture basically concluded with the same dreary message – governments are not taking enough action, the Earth is dying, and our generation is beyond screwed.

Despite this, I decided to seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. However, following a string of volcanic eruptions in the Reykjanes Peninsula, our snowmobile-ice cave excursion was cancelled. Though the company did not mention specifics, I couldn’t help but conjure fantastical images of flowing lava decimating the terrain and any helpless tourist with it. The Blue Lagoon also remained closed in the days before our trip due to dangerous levels of sulphur dioxide. Miraculously, it reopened when we arrived and, while my family relished in the postcard surroundings, touristic ignorance is not bliss. 

These disruptions may not have been an absolute result of climate change, but they were certainly a stern reminder of Earth’s delicate systems. Many countries struggle with the precarious balance between this and their own economic needs – so how do these intertwine for Iceland? 

Tourism is now Iceland’s largest industry, overtaking fishing and seeing around six times as many tourists than residents visiting the country just last year. Though this growth is currently being encouraged, it is also relatively new to the nation in the past decade. Due to this, they have not yet felt the long-term implications that we are now seeing in other countries of such high and possibly unsustainable tourism. For example, Barcelona locals have consistently made headlines protesting the mass tourism that further exacerbates their housing crisis and annihilates their culture.

I asked Gummi, my glacier hiking guide, for his opinion as an Icelandic resident and someone within the tourism industry. He suggested that Iceland should and will continue to encourage tourism for a plethora of reasons. The first was that most of Iceland’s energy usage is sourced from renewables. So, as they almost overcompensate in sustainability compared to other countries, they can afford to reap tourism’s economic benefits despite its usual environmental detriments. Furthermore, Iceland has implemented the necessary infrastructure to facilitate tourism without overdeveloping, thus protecting the natural landscapes. Finally, Gummi noted that these glaciers and other features could all be gone in 50 years – people should enjoy them while they can.

This mindset echoes that of climate fatalists, believing that climate change is inevitable and human action futile. Meanwhile, the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change have reported that “projected CO2 emissions from existing fossil fuel infrastructure without additional abatement would exceed the remaining carbon budget for 1.5°C.” 

This 1.5°C threshold has become a cornerstone for the climate agenda, aiming for the Earth’s average surface temperature to rise no more than 1.5°C higher than pre-industrial levels, after which the consequences of climate change may be more severe, irreversible, and truly catastrophic. Breaking news, ladies and gents: unless some transcendent miracle occurs, we are definitely surpassing it!

While our world leaders are blatantly not prioritising the climate crisis, I often wonder what impact I can realistically have as an individual. Or, more so, is it even fair to ask individuals to sacrifice what opportunities for joy they do have, albeit at the Earth’s expense, when the apocalypse may very well occur within the next century? 

I try to be environmentally conscious in my day-to-day life. I don’t eat meat, don’t own a car, and buy most of my clothes second-hand. These choices are hardly going to single-handedly save a polar bear, but I like to think I’m somewhat helping. So, why should I feel guilty about getting on the odd plane? Nevertheless, is it truly ethical to act on fatalism, thinking that if we’re all going to die anyway, we may as well go emission-crazy?

While it would have been nice to have had an epiphany whilst writing this and suddenly solve the conundrum that faces the world’s greatest scientists and not-so-great politicians, I can, unfortunately, offer no such comfort. Progress seems like a foreign concept when humans have created the Anthropocene, a new geological epoch stained by humanity’s influence on the planet.

There is an abundance of turmoiled young adults, like myself, who are unsure of their future and fatigued by the apparent hopelessness of the climate crisis and by the inaction of their government. What will it take for these so-called leaders to step up and relieve this burden, considering at this rate we’re already heading for the end?