Recently, I was invited by a journalist association to reflect on my journey as a journalist-cum-practitioner in the fields of environment and climate change. As I started thinking, I realised, I’ve been a witness to the evolution of environmental and climate journalism for over 35 years. As someone who has been part of the field, I can confidently say that the passion for this kind of journalism has diminished among much of the current generation—even as interest in environmental activism has grown. Yet, journalists alone are not to blame. The entire ecosystem—policymakers, media executives, and the industry at large—has shifted its focus from long-term processes to momentary events. Passionate, investigative journalists often struggle to find the support they need, while those covering glamorous summits and high-profile events are given the spotlight. This is a worrying trend—not just for the health of journalism, but for the environment, for nature, and for the vulnerable communities who are on the frontlines of climate impacts.Mainstream media has also drastically reduced investment in the capacity building of journalists—particularly in enabling them to travel to remote locations and report the ground realities of environmental degradation and climate change. Sensationalism has replaced substance, eroding the very spirit of journalism. Meanwhile, the public’s growing obsession with short-form content like reels has further shortened an already fickle memory. While public memory has always been short, the current trend is more dangerous than ever. Rapid onset disasters dominate headlines, while slow-onset crises—like droughts, sea-level rise, and desertification—are largely ignored, even though they often cause deeper, long-term damage.Take, for instance, the case of people facing the wrath of an ever-invading sea—a classic example of a slow-onset disaster with long-lasting impacts. Odisha now finds itself on the global map for sea-level rise-induced displacements. Yet, our coverage rarely extends beyond cyclonic storms, flash floods, or the submergence of a marine police station. We overlook the daily battles these communities fight—against the erasure of their history, the loss of livelihoods, the destruction of religious shrines, and the steady disappearance of their geography. These are people who have contributed virtually nothing to the climate crisis, yet are being driven from their homes, stripped of their customary rights, and rendered invisible in the mainstream media.There are countless angles and untold stories in such situations, but they rarely receive the depth of coverage they deserve. This must change if we are to pursue journalism not just as a profession, but as a cause—to save the planet and amplify the voices of the voiceless.I’m not here to criticise, but to reflect. If I were to paint a picture of the current state of environmental and climate journalism on a canvas, I’d find that while many are working on various issues, we’re missing the finer details. Time is certainly a constraint. In an era where constant buzz is necessary to hold public attention, social media sets a frenetic pace. Unfortunately, the demand for speed often comes at the cost of depth. Today, a cyclone grabs headlines—but a displaced community does not.Like many environmental activists and civil society organisations, some of our journalist friends are quick to celebrate global days and spotlight figures like Greta Thunberg—which is important—but often miss the equally critical stories unfolding in their own backyards. Perhaps it feels easier to report on the findings of a global study than to confront local authorities about the lack of basic data, or the absence of a community census. It’s a reflection of the changing times.Still, not all is lost. Across generations, we have many bright journalists who remain committed to environmental reporting. Their dedication to raising critical issues deserves our recognition and support. If we work together—seasoned and young journalists alike—and refocus on chasing the details, we can bring much-needed justice to local issues, bridge information gaps, and strengthen the foundation for intergenerational equity in journalism.Ultimately, hope for the planet lies in giving hope to its most climate-vulnerable communities—both human and non-human. Journalism can and must play a central role in making that possible..Ranjan Panda is a convenor at Water Initiatives. He writes on water, environment, and climate change issues concerning the vulnerable communities, including youth, women & indigenous peoples. Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth