The question isn’t whether we should stop flying entirely—it’s whether we should fly differently.
Every flight we take carries weight. Not just our luggage, but the carbon cost that someone, somewhere, will eventually pay for. The weekend city breaks, the third holiday this year, the business meeting that could’ve been a video call—these casual flights add up. And yes, planes running on fossil fuels remain one of the most carbon-intensive ways to travel.
But here’s the tension I’ve wrestled with throughout my 17 years in tourism: stopping all flights would devastate the livelihoods of millions who depend on travelers to feed their families. So what’s the answer?
The Real Problem Isn’t Flying—It’s How Often and How Far
Here’s what I’ve learned: the issue isn’t the plane itself. It’s flying 10 hours to spend 5 days somewhere, then flying home. It’s treating distant cultures like weekend entertainment. It’s the mismatch between the carbon cost of getting there and the actual time we invest in being present once we arrive.
When I traveled to Colombia for three weeks, that long-haul flight represented more than my entire annual carbon budget—about 2.4 tons of CO2 before I’d even stepped off the plane. That’s a hefty environmental debt. But those three weeks? They changed how I see coffee, community, and what constitutes a “good life.”
I met Gloria in Salamina, a town overlooked by guidebooks that send everyone to Salento instead. She showed me around the coffee region, and we practiced Spanish together. That day of work meant something to her—not just financially, but in sharing her home with someone genuinely interested in listening to its stories.
I hiked with Leo, who’d recently started his tour company. We stayed overnight at a hillside coffee farm where the family explained how market prices had dropped so low they could barely afford to feed their children. Tourism wasn’t their salvation, but those occasional visitors using their spare bedroom made a tangible difference.
What Travel Teaches That Statistics Can’t
There’s something that happens when you wade through mud for hours planting rice in Vietnam: you finally understand why that bag of rice is so absurdly cheap, and you start questioning an economic system that makes it so.
When you meet families living in tin-shack homes outside Kathmandu with no running water and—gasp—no Wi-Fi, yet radiating contentment, you reconsider what “quality of life” actually means.
When you crave a mango smoothie at that Thai restaurant and they explain mangoes aren’t in season so you’ll have to settle for coconut, you suddenly get it: the expectation that everything should be available everywhere all the time is exactly what got us into this mess.
These aren’t lessons you learn from documentaries or Instagram posts. You learn them by standing in someone else’s shoes, literally and figuratively. This is why the question “Should we stop flying?” is more complicated than a simple yes or no.
A Better Question: How Should We Fly?
Instead of flight shame leading to no flying at all, what if it led to intentional flying?
Here’s what that looks like in practice:
Choose the train or bus for anything you can reach overland in a day. Weekend flights to nearby destinations? Those are the trips that genuinely make no sense when the carbon cost is weighed against the experience. Trains aren’t just lower-impact—they’re often the better journey anyway. You see the landscape change. You meet people. You arrive human instead of depleted.
If you’re flying long-haul, commit to staying longer. Three weeks minimum for intercontinental trips. This isn’t just about offsetting carbon through duration—it’s about respect. Respect for the place, for the people, and for the planet that absorbed the cost of getting you there. Slow down. Take local buses and trains instead of domestic flights. Let the journey be part of the experience.
Make it count. Stay in locally-owned guesthouses. Eat at family-run restaurants. Hire local guides like Gloria and Leo. These choices directly support communities and create the kind of human connections that shift perspective.
Skip the stopovers. Direct flights use less fuel. If you’re going to Colombia, go to Colombia—don’t add three unnecessary stops because it saves €100. Your carbon footprint isn’t worth that discount.
Own the unavoidable. Some emissions can’t be avoided. Offset them. But more importantly, let them change how you travel in other ways: less often, longer stays, deeper engagement.
The Bigger Picture
I deeply respect people who’ve sworn off flying entirely—it’s a principled choice in a world that desperately needs principled action. But sustainability isn’t just about carbon. It’s about balancing environmental responsibility with social and economic realities.
When we travel thoughtfully, we don’t just reduce our harm—we actively create positive change. We support families like the ones who hosted me. We build bridges between cultures. We return home as advocates for places and people who might otherwise remain invisible to us.
The solution isn’t ending travel. It’s transforming it.
Fly less. Stay longer. Go deeper. Choose trains where possible. Support local communities. Return changed.
That’s not flight shame—that’s flight wisdom.
