Darkness carries a price just to be chosen

There is something quietly unsettling about this year’s Earth Hour.

In the middle of an energy crisis, the quiet, symbolic act of switching off the lights for sixty minutes no longer feels purely voluntary. For many, it loudly echoes a reality that is already unfolding — not as an action, but as a limitation. With rolling power interruptions and volatile fuel prices, darkness is becoming less of a choice and more of a condition.

What was once a global moment of reflection now sits uncomfortably close to everyday experience. This does not diminish the value of Earth Hour; it reframes it.

Because choosing to turn off the lights is fundamentally different from being forced to live without them. One is an act of awareness. The other is a sign of vulnerability. Choosing to turn off the lights is an act of awareness; being forced to live without them is a mark of vulnerability. We often overlook the fact that, ironically, having no electricity is more expensive. Without reliable power, households are pushed toward costlier, hazardous alternatives: candles that burn down too quickly, kerosene that eats into thin budgets, and work that must be governed by the sun. It is a cycle of spoiled food and slipped opportunities. Darkness carries a steep price, and it is almost always paid by those who can least afford it.

To treat this as a simple, annual routine is to ignore how unevenly the “choice” is distributed. If we are to build a future that is both sustainable and resilient, we must demand a world where darkness is never imposed—only chosen. We must recognize that the ability to toggle between light and shadow is, in itself, a profound privilege.

The most vulnerable are often those whose lights are not fixed on the ceiling, but flicker from the floor—improvised, fragile, and temporary. It is a reality that is easy to miss from well-lit rooms, where electricity is constant and interruption is rare. From those vantage points, darkness is symbolic. For others, it is a sooted reality.