When nature weeps: A wake-up call for the world

‘Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky’ – the iconic refrain of Deep Purple’s evergreen rock anthem, released in 1972 and performed in classic heavy metal style – was inspired by a fire that broke out during Frank Zappa’s concert in Montreux the year before. The lyrics evoke a blaze so fierce it seems as though even the lake is ablaze, with smoke thick enough to cloud the sky, and confusion engulfing the scene. The chorus rolls on: ‘Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky, smoke on the water.’

Around 470 million years ago, life first emerged from the calm, celestial waters onto the harsh, land-like conditions of early Earth. Some four million years ago, our ancestors found their footing in the savannahs northeast of what is now Addis Ababa. Lucy and her successors are lasting testaments to this epic journey – we moved from one sea to another.

Human bodies are composed of roughly two-thirds water. This composition grants us flexibility, lightness, adaptability, and the ability to sustain a brain in constant, dynamic activity. By remarkable evolutionary coincidence, our home planet mirrors this ratio, with its rivers, lakes, and oceans. Homo sapiens and Mother Earth exist in a profound state of balance and mutual dependence – a marvelous pairing, an unrepeatable, extraordinary symbiosis.

Life on Earth is specific, rich in diversity, sensitive, and resilient – all thanks to water. It is all around us, and within us, a fundamental part of what we are. This is the conditio sine qua non for the survival of our species, which has travelled further in its evolutionary path than any other life form. Yet, at the peak of this journey, a dramatic deviation has taken place: our extraordinary progress has begun to produce effects that threaten our very existence. Simply put, it verges on collective self-destruction. While the reasons are difficult to summarize, it seems likely that this, too, is embedded in our nature – perhaps even in the course of evolution itself.

Towards the end of the previous millennium, humankind faced two existential milestones. First, the production of weapons – especially nuclear arms – reached a level where we became capable of destroying ourselves multiple times over. Never before in the history of life on Earth had anything of the kind occurred. Second, and for the first time in recorded history, the cumulative effects of human activity began to impose such profound changes on the environment that the very survival of our species, and countless others, came under threat. At the heart of this stream of hazard and change lies water. Humanity began to destroy its own essence – both directly, in physical terms, and indirectly, by corroding its ways of life, value systems, and emotional depth. This marks a paradigm shift in the worst direction – one that must be reversed.

The global political elite does not acknowledge this, let alone accept it – some actively deny it – even as we all constantly experience its consequences. This denial is a shared failure, including among those at the highest levels of decision-making. Nature has no mercy, and it shows no favor to those who cannot or do not want to adapt.

Adaptability remains a core condition of life on Earth. We must continue to repeat this, to stress it, and, above all, to act on it. At the same time, we should remind ourselves that, for the first time in history, humanity possesses all the technological and communicative tools necessary to change course. Public opinion and civil society – including the media – have never before had so many opportunities to demand global, effective action.

The Horn of Africa stands as a stark example of this worsening crisis. A decade of extreme drought has intensified poverty, dismantled the foundations of everyday life, and fuelled mass migration, displacing millions across the continent and beyond. These developments undermine global ecological balance and exacerbate security risks, mistrust, and animosity.

Water is indispensable in the production of everything that sustains our lives – from metals to plastics, from energy to paper – in both processing and distribution. The chain is practically endless. After 50,000 years of existence, Homo sapiens has reached a stage where the Solar System might one day serve as our second home. There is a real possibility that frozen water lies deep beneath the poles of Mars. It is equally – or perhaps more – likely that several of Jupiter’s and Saturn’s moons contain hidden reservoirs. Water is the foundation of life as we know it. Perhaps, after all, we are not alone. However, we, too, will vanish if humanity – and especially its political elite – fails to reconcile its way of life with the natural world on which it depends.

When our soul mourns, it expresses itself in tears. When nature mourns, it weeps acid rain.

The image forming from the growing scarcity of water is biblical, apocalyptic, and uncomfortably familiar. People write about it, sing about it, paint it. Let it be a wake-up call.

Water is life – so wake up, at last.