Closer to a climate refugee than to a billionaire: notes on ecological false consciousness.

In this historical moment dominated by promises of self-fulfillment and social mobility, the collective imagination continues to revolve around the ideals of ascent, success, and individual achievement—even as the world around us falls apart. The internalization of a desire for wealth—fueled by decades of neoliberal narrative—prevents us from grasping a simple yet crucial truth: today, you are statistically closer to becoming a climate refugee than to becoming a billionaire.

The ecological crisis is not an anomaly within the system, but its direct consequence. Global capitalism, built on infinite growth and the limitless extraction of resources, has produced a radical rupture between humanity and the biosphere. This disconnection is not only material but also symbolic and affective: the economy has devoured ecology, relegating nature to a passive backdrop of accumulation and exploitation, while ecosystems are reduced to “natural capital”—quantifiable, monetizable, expendable.

Meanwhile, climate change, desertification, water scarcity, and rising sea levels are already displacing millions of people, especially in the territories of the Global South. Yet the dominant narrative continues to pretend that the disaster is distant—that it concerns other bodies, other geographies, other responsibilities. This is a functional form of denial, which allows the system to keep operating as if nothing were wrong. But the truth is that collapse has already begun—it simply hits unevenly, across lines of class, race, and geography.

In response, public debate is polarized between those who propose structural change—taxing large fortunes, strictly regulating emissions, redistributing resources—and those who, even among the popular classes, react with visceral, almost identity-based rejection of any redistributive or ecological proposal. Here, a central mechanism of ideological reproduction comes into play: false consciousness.

Many individuals living on the margins of economic and climate security now defend the interests of those who oppress them, believing they might one day share their status. This is a defining trait of neoliberal subjectivity: people no longer see themselves as exploited, but as “temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” In this distorted perspective, environmental injustice is not recognized as systemic, but reframed in terms of personal failure, lack of initiative, or inability to “compete.”

This internalized aspiration to rise legitimizes the existing order and criminalizes every form of systemic dissent. Failure is individualized, while anger is directed not at those who perpetuate the disaster, but at those who challenge the system. It’s the triumph of aspirational logic, which converts subordination into hope, and hope into complicity.

The result is a double paradox: capital is idealized as catastrophe approaches, and those calling for justice are demonized while those who hoard wealth are justified. Meanwhile, climate change moves forward, hitting hardest those who are already vulnerable: people in precarious housing, those with fewer resources to relocate, those already subjected to systemic exclusion—racialized communities, women, migrants, disabled people.

Awareness alone is not enough. We must dismantle the meritocratic and individualistic imaginary that has been sewn into our very sense of self. The ecological transition will not be possible without a profound redefinition of collective desires, shared values, and the relationships between bodies, territories, and systems of power. Taxing the rich and those who pollute is not an ideological act—it is a principle of collective survival, a minimal form of climate justice.

And recognizing our shared ecological vulnerability—before differences of status or role—is the first step in breaking free from capitalism’s machinery of desire. A necessary step toward rebuilding a sense of “we” that is not exclusive or totalizing, but fragile, situated, permeable.

Only then can we begin to imagine a livable world. Not for the few, but for all.