The language 'It's too late' is very unsuitable for most

Hear now the words of Jeremy Grantham, a voice both stern and compassionate: “The language ‘It’s too late’ is very unsuitable for most environmental issues. It’s too late for the dodo and for people who’ve starved to death already, but it’s not too late to prevent an even bigger crisis. The sooner we act on the environment, the better.” This teaching is a cry against despair, a warning that surrender is more dangerous than the storm itself. For though some losses cannot be undone—the dodo will never take wing again, and the hungry dead will not return—yet the battle is not lost. The future still bends before our will, and the earth still waits to be defended by her children.

In the ancient times, prophets often warned of doom not to seal the fate of their people, but to rouse them from slumber. So too does Grantham speak: to declare “it’s too late” is to lay down one’s arms before the battle has begun. It is to let rivers dry, forests burn, and seas rise without lifting a hand. Yet wisdom shows that though time passes, there remains always a measure of hope, provided that men and women choose action. To declare otherwise is not truth, but a poison that numbs the will.

Consider the story of the Montreal Protocol, born in the 1980s when the ozone layer of the earth was being devoured by man’s chemicals. Many feared that the damage was already sealed, that skin cancers and crop failures were destined to spread. Yet nations gathered, set aside division, and bound themselves to restrain the gases that tore the heavens. And behold: the ozone began to heal, and even now the sky recovers its shield. What if the world had whispered “it’s too late” and surrendered? Then surely the sun would have scorched humanity with relentless fire. This example shines as proof that though some harms cannot be undone, others can yet be prevented, if only action is taken.

The wisdom of Grantham also names the sorrowful truth: it is too late for some. The dodo, once gentle upon the islands, was hunted into silence. The millions who have already perished from drought, famine, or poisoned lands cannot be revived. We must speak their names with reverence, for they are the testimony of what delay and neglect can bring. Yet to use their fate as a reason for inaction would dishonor them. Better to let their memory burn within us as fire, urging us to act before the next great tragedy unfolds.

Mark this well: despair is the enemy’s greatest ally. The destroyers of earth profit when the people believe that resistance is futile. They whisper that the seas will rise no matter what, that the air will choke no matter what, that the forests will burn no matter what. And when the people believe this, they cease to fight, and the merchants of ruin continue their feast. Grantham’s wisdom tears away this lie, reminding us that though the past is lost, the future is still ours to shape.

Therefore, let each person learn the lesson: it is not too late. The hour is urgent, but not hopeless. Action taken now—whether in policy, in invention, in daily life—delays catastrophe, softens its blow, and preserves the earth for those yet unborn. Plant trees, reduce waste, consume with care, support leaders who honor the planet, and lend your voice to movements that protect the fragile web of life. Small deeds alone cannot heal the earth, but together with laws, innovation, and collective will, they form the shield that guards tomorrow.

And so, children of the future, take these words as a covenant: do not surrender to the cry of “too late.” Speak instead, “there is still time, and I will not waste it.” For the earth is patient, and though she has suffered wounds, she still offers herself to those who will heal her. The sooner we act, the lighter the burden. The sooner we rise, the brighter the dawn. Let us, then, walk forward with courage, with urgency, and with love—for it is not too late to choose life.