Refusing to fly has lost me my job as a climate researcher. It’s a price worth paying

Two weeks ago, my employer presented me with a stark ultimatum: return to my offices in Kiel, Germany, within five days, or lose my job. I am a climate researcher and since March 2023, I have been completing vital fieldwork into the social impact of climate change almost 24,000km away by overland routes, on the island of Bougainville off the coast of Papua New Guinea.

My fieldwork had been mired in unforeseeable problems, from natural disasters to security threats, and my employer was, unsurprisingly, unhappy that my return had been delayed by many weeks. The urgency of their request to return meant I would have to jump on a plane if I was to meet the deadline; but for me, this was not an option. I have been practising conscientious objection to flying for more than 10 years. My employer has supported me on a “slow trip” in the past. I do not boycott flying altogether, but I will only catch a plane when no other alternative exists.

This weekend, I will set sail on a cargo ship to return to Germany, travelling to East New Britain in Papua New Guinea. From there, I will cover the remaining distance to Europe by cargo ship, ferry, train and coach.

Many people have asked why it is so important for me to travel as lowcarbon as possible. I have three reasons. First, I want to be consistent with my moral commitment to avoid flying. Aviation is the biggest contributor to climate change of all forms of transport, a major factor in the rise in temperatures and the extreme weather events that we are witnessing more and more frequently all around the world.

A trip by plane from Papua New Guinea to Germany produces, in 32 hours, 5.3 tonnes of CO2 per passenger. Slow travel produces approximately 12 times less (420kg). In the current state of climate emergency, wasting 4.9 tonnes of CO2 – about how much the average person in the world emits in one year – to expedite my return to Europe is not morally acceptable to me.

Second, I promised all the 1,800 participants in my research in Bougainville

that I would return low-carbon. I want to keep my promise. White men (of whom I am one, as I am frequently reminded here) are often referred to as giaman – liars, fraudsters in Tok Pisin – probably with good reason given the country’s turbulent colonial past. I do not want to be seen as giaman.

Finally, and most importantly, I hope my case might put a little crack into the wall of “selfishness, greed, and apathy”, which, in the words of climate lawyer Gus Speth, is the main