Systemic inertia in climate policy: How institutional lock-in perpetuates unsustainable development pathways despite urgent warnings

Indigenous knowledge systems, such as the Māori *kaitiakitanga* or the Andean *Ayni*, frame environmental stewardship as a sacred and reciprocal relationship with land, not a transactional policy issue. These traditions prioritize long-term ecological balance over short-term economic gains, offering proven models for sustainable land management that have persisted for centuries. Western institutions often dismiss such knowledge as 'anecdotal,' despite its empirical basis in intergenerational observation and adaptation. The omission of these perspectives in climate discourse reflects a colonial epistemological bias that privileges 'scientific' over traditional knowledge.

The current climate crisis is rooted in 250 years of industrial capitalism, which normalized fossil fuel dependency through colonial extraction, the enclosure of commons, and the commodification of nature. Historical precedents like the 1972 Club of Rome report or the 1992 Earth Summit reveal repeated cycles of warning followed by incremental, insufficient action, demonstrating how power structures resist structural change. The 'new year, old me' framing echoes the 1970s 'limits to growth' debates, where systemic critiques were watered down into market-based solutions. This pattern underscores how institutional inertia is not accidental but structurally embedded.

Cross-culturally, climate action is often framed as a moral and spiritual imperative rather than a technical challenge, as seen in Buddhist teachings on interdependence or African philosophies like *Ubuntu* ('I am because we are'). These frameworks emphasize collective well-being over individualism, challenging the Western neoliberal paradigm that treats climate change as a problem to be solved through consumer choice or market mechanisms. In the Pacific Islands, communities are already relocating due to sea-level rise, yet their knowledge of adaptive resilience is rarely integrated into global policy. The absence of these perspectives in mainstream discourse reflects a Eurocentric bias that equates 'progress' with Western scientific rationality.

Scientific consensus confirms that institutional inertia is a primary barrier to climate action, with studies showing that fossil fuel lobbying has delayed policy implementation by decades. Research on 'policy lock-in' demonstrates how early decisions (e.g., subsidizing coal in the 1950s) create path dependencies that are nearly impossible to reverse without exogenous shocks. The article’s focus on 'welcome changes' aligns with behavioral economics research, which highlights how humans default to incrementalism in the face of complex problems. However, this ignores the role of vested interests in shaping what counts as 'welcome'—a framing that serves to depoliticize climate action.

Artistic and spiritual traditions across cultures have long articulated the interconnectedness of human and ecological well-being, from the Japanese *Satoyama* movement to the Sufi concept of *fana* (annihilation of the ego in service of the divine). These traditions often use metaphor and ritual to convey the urgency of ecological collapse, making the crisis legible in ways that data alone cannot. Western modernity’s separation of art from science has impoverished climate discourse, reducing it to a technical problem rather than a crisis of meaning and values. The article’s lack of engagement with these dimensions reflects a broader cultural dissociation from the sacredness of life.

Future modelling scenarios consistently show that incremental policy changes are insufficient to meet the 1.5°C target, with most pathways requiring rapid decarbonization and systemic transformation by 2030. Models like the IPCC’s SSP1-1.9 pathway demonstrate that technological solutions alone cannot avert disaster without parallel shifts in governance, economics, and culture. The article’s 'new year, old me' framing implicitly assumes that minor adjustments within existing systems will suffice, ignoring the nonlinear tipping points that could render such approaches obsolete. This myopia risks locking in catastrophic outcomes by delaying the radical reimagining of societal structures.

Marginalized communities—particularly Indigenous peoples, women in the Global South, and low-income populations—bear the brunt of climate impacts yet are systematically excluded from decision-making processes. Their knowledge, such as women-led seed-saving networks in India or Indigenous fire management in Australia, is often dismissed as 'unscientific' despite its proven efficacy. The article’s focus on institutional actors reinforces a top-down narrative that silences those most affected by climate change. Additionally, the framing ignores how climate policies like REDD+ have dispossessed Indigenous communities in the name of 'conservation,' further entrenching structural violence.