A World Without _______________________

The radio has been unusually dramatic lately.

Not the sort of dramatic that comes from celebrity scandals or politicians trading carefully rehearsed statements. The sort of dramatic that sounds as though someone accidentally handed the weather department a Hollywood script.

For the past few weeks, I have been hearing reports about something called a "Godzilla El Niño".

Godzilla.

Not "Enhanced El Niño".

Not "Category Five El Niño".

Not even "Severe El Niño".

Someone looked at climate data and apparently thought, "No. This situation requires a giant radioactive lizard."

I suppose that tells us everything we need to know about how worried people are.

According to climate scientists, this particular El Niño could bring hotter and drier weather to parts of Southeast Asia. There are concerns about haze. Concerns about water supply. Concerns about forest fires.

All perfectly valid concerns.

Yet, in the middle of reading article after article about rising temperatures, another thought crossed my mind.

What about chocolate?

I realise this may sound like an inappropriate response to a climate crisis.

Entire ecosystems are under threat and my first concern is confectionery.

But before you judge me, consider this.

If somebody told you tomorrow that coffee was disappearing forever, you would probably sit down.

If somebody told you bubble tea would cease to exist, half of Singapore would immediately enter the five stages of grief.

Chocolate belongs in that category.

Researchers have repeatedly warned that cocoa trees are particularly vulnerable to climate change. Cocoa thrives within a surprisingly narrow range of environmental conditions. Too much heat. Too little rain. Changes in humidity. Any of these can affect production.

In other words, cocoa trees are the Goldilocks of agriculture.

Everything has to be just right.

As temperatures continue to climb, scientists predict that some traditional cocoa-growing regions may become increasingly unsuitable for cultivation.

Imagine explaining this to someone in the future.

"Why did civilisation collapse?"

"It wasn't one thing."

"Was it politics?"

"Partly."

"War?"

"A little."

"Disease?"

"Sometimes."

"Then what happened?"

"We lost chocolate."

At first, people would laugh.

Then they would stop laughing.

Because there are certain foods that have quietly embedded themselves into our emotional infrastructure.

Chocolate is one of them.

A bad day at work?

Chocolate.

A difficult breakup?

Chocolate.

Failed your examination?

Chocolate.

Passed your examination?

Also chocolate.

Somewhere along the way, humanity developed a coping mechanism that involved wrapping happiness in aluminium foil.

And science suggests there may be a reason for that.

Several studies have found associations between chocolate consumption and improved mood. Researchers believe flavonoids and other compounds found in cocoa may influence brain function and emotional well-being. While chocolate is certainly not a substitute for therapy, friendship or proper mental health support, there is evidence that it can contribute to feelings of pleasure and comfort.

Which means there is a possibility that humanity's emotional stability is being partially supported by dessert.

That is both reassuring and deeply concerning.

Imagine a future where cocoa trees have become rare.

Not extinct.

Just rare enough that ordinary people can no longer afford chocolate.

The year is 2055.

Children gather around their grandparents.

"Grandpa, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Did people really eat chocolate every day?"

The old man stares into the distance.

A single tear rolls down his cheek.

"Sometimes twice."

The children gasp.

"Impossible."

He reaches into a dusty drawer and removes an ancient photograph.

A KitKat.

Still in its original packaging.

The children bow their heads respectfully.

A sacred relic from a forgotten civilisation.

In this dystopian future, Valentine's Day becomes significantly more complicated.

Florists survive.

Jewellers survive.

Chocolate companies become the equivalent of luxury watch brands.

A small box of assorted pralines costs the same as a second-hand car.

Marriage proposals require bank loans.

The phrase "I bought you chocolate" becomes indistinguishable from "I bought you a condominium."

People no longer ask whether someone is wealthy.

They ask whether the person owns cocoa futures.

And perhaps most alarming of all, office pantries become war zones.

Today, if you walk into a staff room, you might occasionally find a bowl of sweets.

In Chocolate-Free Earth, the bowl remains empty.

Always.

People become suspicious.

Meetings become shorter.

Patience becomes thinner.

Someone accidentally presses "Reply All" to an entire organisation.

Normally this would be mildly irritating.

Now it sparks three formal investigations and a parliamentary debate.

Of course, I am exaggerating.

At least I hope I am.

But humour has a strange way of revealing truths we do not always want to confront.

When people think about climate change, they often imagine melting glaciers, rising seas and endangered animals.

Those are important.

Yet climate change also threatens the small things.

The everyday things.

The things we take for granted.

A cup of coffee.

A bowl of rice.

A favourite fruit.

A piece of chocolate after a difficult day.

Sometimes it is easier to understand the scale of a problem when it arrives wrapped in something familiar.

The possibility of losing chocolate may seem insignificant compared to losing forests or coral reefs.

Yet the two are connected.

The same warming temperatures that threaten cocoa production also threaten biodiversity, agriculture and water security.

The same environmental pressures that stress cocoa trees are stressing countless other species.

Chocolate simply happens to be the ambassador we notice because we enjoy eating it.

Perhaps that is why conversations about climate change can feel so difficult.

The consequences often seem distant.

The year 2050 feels abstract.

Two degrees Celsius sounds small.

A coral reef thousands of kilometres away feels remote.

But a world without chocolate?

That feels immediate.

That feels personal.

Suddenly climate change is no longer a graph.

It is dessert.

And maybe that is the point.

The Godzilla El Niño may or may not become as severe as some projections suggest. Climate systems are notoriously complex. Scientists themselves are careful about predictions because nature has a habit of humbling everyone.

Yet uncertainty is not the same thing as immunity.

The fact that we do not know exactly how bad things might become is not a reason for inaction.

If anything, it is a reason for preparation.

The philosopher and statesman Edmund Burke once observed that nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could only do a little.

I think about that often whenever discussions about climate change arise.

Many of us feel powerless.

We are not policymakers.

We are not climate scientists.

We are not multinational corporations.

We are ordinary people trying to get through ordinary days.

Yet every large change begins with a collection of small decisions.

How we consume.

How we waste.

How we travel.

How we vote.

How we teach our children to think about the world they will inherit.

No single person can save a cocoa tree in Ghana from the comfort of a flat in Singapore.

But collectively, our choices shape the future those trees grow into.

Perhaps that future will still contain chocolate.

Perhaps children fifty years from now will continue arguing over the last piece in a box of assorted chocolates.

Perhaps Valentine's Day will remain financially survivable.

Perhaps office pantries will continue serving as fragile symbols of workplace diplomacy.

I certainly hope so.

Because while a world without chocolate would not be the greatest tragedy humanity could face, it would be a remarkably sad footnote in our story.

And if protecting the planet means preserving forests, safeguarding water supplies, strengthening ecosystems and ensuring that future generations can still experience the simple joy of biting into a piece of chocolate after a terrible day, then that seems like a cause worth supporting.

After all, we are not merely trying to save chocolate.

We are trying to save the conditions that allow life, comfort, joy and ordinary happiness to flourish.

Chocolate just happens to be the delicious reminder.

 

Written by: Adi Jamaludin