Penned by Prakriti Parul
Summer Festivals, that glorious time of year when humans migrate like glitter-covered flamingos to open fields, jungles, beaches, and sometimes, muddy towns—with flower crowns perched like wilted halos and biodegradable cups clutched like chalices of modern virtue.
But here’s a twist in the tale: not every festival is about overpriced lemonade and ‘gram-worthy sunsets. Some are actually getting something done—like picking up after themselves, bringing back bee rituals, or making art activism.
Welcome to Summer Festivals with a Purpose —where dancing is paired with environmental awareness, and you may just leave with more than a hangover. You may leave with hope. (And perhaps a reusable straw.)
Venice’s “Festa del Redentore”: Fireworks and Floating Guilt
Each July, Venice illuminates the sky with a resplendent fireworks display—because what better way to mark having lived through a plague is there than filling the air and canals with pollutants?
But wait—redemption is here, quite literally. The day after, volunteers dawn like green warrior gondoliers, gliding along the canals not with prosecco, but with nets—sweeping up party detritus while riding plastic-free gondolas. Penance in a paddle boat? The Venetians do know how to party, yes, but they also know how to clean up after themselves—are you listening, Coachella?
Day of the Dead Bee Festival, Mexico: Buzz Off, Climate Apathy
Yes, you heard that correctly. In Mexico’s Yucatán region, there is a festival honoring dead bees—a sacred tribute to the threatened Melipona bees that the Maya hold in awe. What appears to be a quaint, honey-covered celebration is actually an out-and-out environmental rebirth.
There are honey rituals, incantations, and ancient beekeeping demonstrations—along with lectures about how pesticides are poisoning your breakfast smoothie. Kids learn to honor the bee; adults learn not to murder it with bug spray. It’s sweet. It’s sticky. It stings—right in the conscience.
Rainforest World Music Festival, Malaysia: Drums, Dance, and Deforestation Awareness
You think you’ve danced in a cool venue? Try doing it in the middle of a Bornean rainforest, where between musical acts, you can join a workshop on how not to destroy said rainforest.
Held in Sarawak every June, this festival is like a rave for responsible adults. With compost toilets, recycled stage props, and jungle vibes that don’t need neon, it proves that saving the planet doesn’t mean sacrificing your Spotify playlist.
Green Man Festival, Wales: Folk Music and Zero Plastic
A festival named after a mythical leafy fellow is bound to be green, but this one takes it a step further. In August, Green Man prohibits single-use plastic, only sells local food, and eschews corporate sponsorship. Essentially, it’s your environmentally aware buddy who has a worm farm—and you’re thankful you invited them.
It’s not just music; it’s a four-day masterclass in ethical living, disguised as a cider-fueled escape. If Jane Austen went camping with Greta Thunberg, this would be the result.
Setouchi Triennale, Japan: Art That’s Island Deep
Okay, so it’s not every year—but the summer leg of this art festival (July to September) sprawls across Japan’s Seto Inland Sea like a poetic environmental TED Talk.
Abandoned islands get a second life through installations made of fishing nets, driftwood, and discarded industrial parts. The message? Reuse. Rethink. Rebuild. It’s half museum, half utopia—and doesn’t even stink like trash.
Clearwater Festival, USA: Folk Songs and Hudson River Salvation
Established by the very real legend Pete Seeger, this New York festival shows you can sing “If I Had a Hammer” and employ that metaphorical hammer to mend the planet.
Celebrated in June each year, Clearwater is the unusual American festival that recalls that the Earth exists. With riverboat cruises, environmental-education tents, and plastic prohibitions that are more than on paper, it’s the kumbaya of global awareness.
Saving the World, One Festival at a Time
While all the other festivals are happy to sell virtue-signaling tote bags, these ones are busy living the compostable dream. They connect local heritage with global causes, without putting you to sleep. They’re the antidote to climate doom scrolling.
So this summer, trade in your FOMO for something better—like planting a tree in your festival outfit or learning how to speak to bees.
Because if we have to party on the edge of the world, let’s at least pick up after ourselves before we leave.