Lima climate talks are over and Paris talks are to start a year from now. Even though all countries around the world are supposed to come up with detailed plans of climate action in the next six months, which is quite a task that should involve one and all, the topic has disappeared from the news. It seems to be of real interest only to a bunch of activists in each country. Everyone else is concerned with more important things—kids, spouses, and jobs. They all hope that Paris climate talks will eventually come up with the magic formula to save the world. What could they do all by themselves, anyhow? In each country, the petty officials from a few key ministries will come up with all the requisite numbers. And then the United Nations experts will crunch them in preparation for Paris climate talks, where a Kyoto-like protocol is supposed to be enacted for long-term action starting in 2020. Sooner or later, this will take care of climate change, which will be forgotten in due time. Or so the good people sincerely hope. And all the media help along with entertainment galore. “Don’t worry,” I can almost hear Bobby McFerrin crooning, “be happy!” The only question is why am I putting all this crap into writing.

Addendum (January 7, 2015)

“Exactly,” I feel like shouting as I read this piece three weeks later, which strike me as much longer than usual. “Exactly!” Judging by so many online newspapers, which I still visit from time to time in spite of so many solemn promises to myself that I will abandon them all once and for all, climate change is the last worry of the human species. As a matter of fact, it is hardly mentioned at all. But there is entertainment galore. And all the serious problems discussed are far from serious enough to warrant much time and space. For instance, the economic depression facing the whole world is beyond anyone’s ken. And so is booming intercontinental migration with the attendant problems of race and religion. But why should I care about the collective stupidity that underlines this civilization? And why should I keep putting all this crap into writing day after day? It is high time to take Bobby McFerrin seriously and forget about this silly world. I have better things to do, anyway. This is much easier said than done, though. To my horror, I cannot shake the looming catastrophe out of my mind. Not yet, that is. “Don’t worry,” I croon to myself hopefully by way of a lame conclusion, “be happy!”