Why we don't believe in flight shaming

In the face of aviation’s climate impact, the term flygskam began circulating in Sweden in 2017/18. Literally translated as ‘flight shame’, it grew out of rising climate awareness and was popularised by Swedish cultural figures who publicly pledged to stop flying. Alongside it came tågskryt, or ‘train brag’. The idea was simple: if social norms shape behaviour, then maybe pride could be redirected away from flying and towards lower-carbon travel instead.

For a while, it seemed to work. In Sweden, domestic air travel fell by around 4 per cent in 2019 compared with the year before, while rail operator SJ reported an increase in passenger numbers at the same time. Similar conversations rippled across parts of northern Europe, where established rail networks made alternatives to flying more visible and more realistic.

A few years on, the landscape is more uneven. Flying has crept back. In 2023, flying accounted for around 2.5 to 3 per cent of global CO₂ emissions, and from 2025, is projected to grow by 6.8 per cent beyond pre-pandemic levels.  Policy momentum, on the other hand, has slowed. Sweden itself has since rolled back its aviation tax, signalling how fragile shame-driven behaviour change can be when the underlying system still favours cheap, ‘convenient’ flights.

From Slow Food to Slow Fashion, the rise of reusable coffee cups to the plastic bag charge, progress has been driven by movements and policy changes that make better, sustainable alternatives to tackle the climate crisis visible, appealing and accessible. By contrast, shaming individual travellers is a blunt response to a problem shaped by infrastructure, policy and access.

Kubra Arslaner

Shame changes habits. Systems change outcomes.

There is no doubt that social pressure can influence behaviour. The data from Sweden shows that clearly. But it also shows the limits. When taxes are withdrawn, budgets shrink, flight routes return and prices drop, then aviation passenger numbers rebound. If choosing not to fly requires constant moral effort, it’s not guaranteed to hold against convenience forever.

Travel decisions are shaped by many forces: time, money, geography, family commitments, and the transport networks people have access to. For many journeys, flying remains the only practical option. Framing those choices as personal failure ignores how deeply air travel is woven into modern life and the economy.

At the same time, individual behaviour has a real impact. Cultural ideas about what travel should look like shape demand, which in turn shapes the systems built to serve it. The climate crisis will not be solved by perfectly behaved individuals navigating imperfect systems. It will be addressed through structural change: better cross-border rail networks, cleaner ferries and coaches, pricing that reflects environmental cost, and political decisions that make lower-carbon travel easier and more appealing. And, it will also be shaped by new, more generous ideas of travel itself.

Peyman Shojaei

Introducing: slow travel

Slow travel offers a practical and inspiring alternative. It prioritises depth over speed and rejects the idea that a better trip comes from ticking off the highest number of places. A slow travel mindset treats the journey as part of the experience itself. A scenic train that follows a coastline or crosses a mountain range does more than move you from one place to another. It gives you time to relax, to notice changes in the landscape, to reflect on your journey.

Environmentally, the case for slow travel is strong. Rail travel in Europe emits around five times less CO₂ per passenger than flying, making rail one of the lowest-carbon ways to travel across the continent. Coaches and ferries can also offer significantly lower emissions as well. Choosing these modes turns travel time into meaningful time, while significantly reducing carbon footprints on short and medium-distance trips.

Slow travel also makes space for connection. When you move through places rather than over them, you’re more likely to encounter people, languages, food and experiences that are true to the area rather than set up for tourism. That connection benefits travellers, but it also distributes tourism more evenly, supporting local businesses rather than funnelling visitor spend through airport hubs and tourist zones.

And people are actively choosing this. Overland travel is no longer fringe: demand for land and sea journeys is growing across Europe, with more families choosing flight-free holidays and off-season travellers heading to cooler mountain and coastal destinations. Many are seeking experiences that feel authentic and restorative, shaped as much by the views and pauses along the way as by the destination itself.

Colin + Meg

From guilt to possibility

Flight shaming frames travel as a moral test, but travel has always been rooted in curiosity and connection. When climate action becomes synonymous with guilt, people disengage, but when it’s grounded in better options, people lean in. The rise and retreat of flygskam shows that attitudes can shift, but they only hold when appealing alternatives are offered.

Slow travel offers a more hopeful way forward. It shows that lower-carbon journeys can also be richer ones. Making these choices easier requires investment in transport networks, but also a cultural appetite for deeper travel experiences. Slow travel is not about telling people what they shouldn’t do, it’s about expanding what feels possible. 

Read about the art of slow travel, why we love the local train, or six of the best scenic train rides in Europe.

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