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Our institutions—from the White House to the university president, from the bank CEO to the labor leader, from the newspaper editor to the religious leader—need to be willing to show some ability to change.
There’s no question that the rate of climate anxiety is growing—how could it not be, on a world where fires and floods are increasingly commonplace? And once your house has flooded—well, the next rainstorm, or even the next forecast, is going to bring back too many memories.
But I’ve found that a fair number of people, especially younger ones, are feeling really desperate anxiety even before they’ve had a traumatic experience, to the point where, for instance, they don’t want to have children of their own. My guess is that this has as much to do with the sense that they’ve been abandoned by the leading institutions—political and economic—of our societies, who can’t bring themselves to acknowledge the scale of this emergency or break old practices.
I’ve been thinking all week at my anger at America’s big banks, the companies that represent the capital in capitalism—as I explained last week, they’ve now backed away even from their very scant climate commitments, fearful it might cost them a bit at the margins. And this week the Biden administration let it be known it was going to relax the timetable for getting rid of internal combustion engines, because of combined pressure from the auto companies and the auto workers union.
I remember debating a wind power opponent at Dartmouth years ago; when he was done making his case that no one should have to look at these “monstrosities,” the first question from a student was: “Could you please explain how you managed to get your head so far up your butt?”
I have no more sympathy for the car companies than the banks—they’ve opposed every regulation anyone has ever proposed, at least as far back as seat belts. And I have lots of sympathy for the UAW—they deserved and needed a new contract, which is why many of us tried to play at least a tiny part in helping their successful fall strike. They fret that moving too fast could cost jobs, which is a real worry. But moving too slow has a huge cost too, on a planet that has just come through its hottest year in the last 125,000: Passenger vehicles contribute almost a third of America’s carbon emissions. In a world that understood the climate crisis as an emergency, UAW president Shawn Fain, and the car company CEOs, and the Biden administration would be out on the stump together, doing everything they could to get people to buy EVs.
No need to single out the UAW, especially since they’re doing their best to undercut the Trump campaign (he’d love to make electric cars, which he insists grind to a halt after 15 minutes of driving, a centerpiece of his campaign). After all, we could say the same thing about all those universities that have fought fossil fuel divestment because it’s easier just to keep investing as you have in the past, or those insurance companies that continue to underwrite new pipelines even as their data show the inexorable rise in climate damage, or those longtime residents of cities and suburbs who oppose denser housing in their communities even though it’s clearly a key part of both cutting emissions and letting the next generation have an affordable place to live. If you’re a young person you could look at them all and think: They don’t want even relatively small changes, and in the process they’re guaranteeing that absolutely everything will change for us.
I think older people underestimate how often their resistance to change is read as disregard for the future. I remember debating a wind power opponent at Dartmouth years ago; when he was done making his case that no one should have to look at these “monstrosities,” the first question from a student was: “Could you please explain how you managed to get your head so far up your butt?” There are occasions when I despair that the motto of my beloved Vermont, oldest state in the union, should be “change anything you want once I’m dead.”
A global study in The Lancet a couple of years ago attempted to quantify this sense of what the authors called “betrayal.” The researchers found deep-seated climate anxiety around the planet. Read the findings just to let them sink in:
A large proportion of children and young people around the world report emotional distress and a wide range of painful, complex emotions (sad, afraid, angry, powerless, helpless, guilty, ashamed, despair, hurt, grief, and depressed). Similarly, large numbers report experiencing some functional impact and have pessimistic beliefs about the future (people have failed to care for the planet; the future is frightening; humanity is doomed; they won’t have access to the same opportunities their parents had; things they value will be destroyed; security is threatened; and they are hesitant to have children). These results reinforce findings of earlier empirical research and expand on previous findings by showing the extensive, global nature of this distress, as well as its impact on functioning. Climate distress is clearly evident both in countries that are already experiencing extensive physical impacts of climate change, such as the Philippines, a nation that is highly vulnerable to coastal flooding and typhoons. It is also evident in countries where the direct impacts are still less severe, such as the U.K., where populations are relatively protected from extreme weather events.
And they also found that that feeling of abandonment was a huge part of the problem:
Distress appears to be greater when young people believe that government response is inadequate, which leads us to argue that the failure of governments to adequately reduce, prevent, or mitigate climate change is contributing to psychological distress, moral injury, and injustice.
Such high levels of distress, functional impact, and feelings of betrayal will negatively affect the mental health of children and young people. Climate anxiety might not constitute a mental illness, but the realities of climate change alongside governmental failures to act are chronic, long-term, and potentially inescapable stressors. These factors are likely to increase the risk of developing mental health problems, particularly in more vulnerable individuals such as children and young people, who often face multiple life stressors without having the power to reduce, prevent, or avoid such stressors.
Humans are remarkable creatures. Though we can, uniquely, worry about the future, we can also, uniquely, feel the kind of solidarity and support that lets us carry on even amidst great travail. But isolation, lack of connection—they crack us.
Our institutions—from the White House to the university president, from the bank CEO to the labor leader, from the newspaper editor to the religious leader—need to be willing to show some ability to change in the face of an emergency. We’re not even talking huge sacrifice—the difference between making EVs and making old-school SUVs, or investing in a fossil-free index fund, or ending loans to oil companies, is not existential to any of the parties involved. They are small hits indeed compared with the hits that are headed our way if the planet keeps heating. And the willingness to change would not only help us weather this crisis physically—it would also help us weather it emotionally.
We only get one life. The thought that young people are having to live theirs under this shadow—damaged by the climate crisis even before its fully hit them—should give all of us real pause. There’s a generational theft underway: of water and ice and coral, but also of security and ease.
What we’re seeing is a pressing need for people to connect and become active in their communities—for the health of their communities as well as their own mental health.
I remember being a young girl, no more than 7, and older people telling me: “Sorry we destroyed the planet. Now it’s your responsibility to fix it.” At such a young age, I didn’t understand what those words meant. But it wouldn’t be the last time I heard them.
I live in New Mexico. In my 22 years, I’ve seen our winters becoming less and less white, each summer getting hotter, and the water slowly disappearing from the great Rio Grande. It’s a story my peers in other states could tell just as well.
The continuous occurrence of these events—and the lack of meaningful action by our representatives to stop them—have been a source of constant stress. I’ve spent years of my young life battling intense feelings of uneasiness, dread, and fear—all of which would become exaggerated whenever I read about a natural disaster or an oil spill.
For many years I felt alone with these feelings. But then I learned that they had a name: “climate anxiety.”
It turns out I’m not alone.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
In one large study of 10,000 children and young people in 10 countries, 45% of respondents said their feelings about climate change negatively impacted their daily functioning. Another 75% found the future frightening—and 83% said that they think people have failed to take care of the planet.
A Yale and George Mason report called “Climate Change in the American Mind” said that about 1 in 10 Americans report having experienced anxiety because of global warming for several or more days out of the last two weeks. Almost as many report experiencing symptoms of depression for the same reason.
These feelings are valid. But we can’t let them overpower our desire to see a future in which renewable energy is flourishing and fossil fuel pollution is a thing of the past.
So how do we keep going? By turning climate anxiety into climate action.
And fortunately, there’s promising research in that area, too. A 2022 study published in Current Psychology suggested that collective action could bring a sense of community, connection, and social support.
“Engaging in collective action can have a multitude of benefits including social connectedness with people who share similar goals and values,” study coauthor Sarah Lowe told Yale Sustainability. “We also thought that individuals who engaged in collective action—particularly if they saw those actions as having an impact—could have a stronger sense of self-efficacy and hope for the future.”
Proponents of a mental health approach called “ecotherapy” have suggested that developing an environmental identity and engaging in environmental conservation may be another effective approach to treating climate anxiety.
What we’re seeing is a pressing need for people to connect and become active in their communities—for the health of their communities as well as their own mental health. The possibility of hope begins when you can see paths for change, however small, in your own community.
Over the years my own waves of climate anxiety have been eased by watching climate organizations like YUCCA and New Mexico Climate Justice demand just energy transitions in my home state and across the country.
I’ve felt the crippling effects of climate anxiety. But we must be able to use our emotions to fuel positive change. I’ve learned these feelings can help us create communities focused on empowering and motivating each other to stand up to those who disrespect and pollute the earth.
The greatest strength of humanity lies in our ability to come together, support each other, and fight for the future that we and future generations deserve.
The trigger of anxiety is not climate truth; it's the unsettling silence of inaction echoing against that truth.
A wave of eco-anxiety, an invisible yet potent tsunami of concern, is rippling through the minds of our younger generation. According to a 2021 study presented in The Lancet, an unsettling 62% of young individuals confessed to being haunted by climate-change-induced anxiety, with a substantial 59% being very or extremely worried, while an overwhelming 84% acknowledged a moderate level of worry at the very least.
Geographical borders do not confine this unease; it's a global epidemic that infiltrates the rhythm of everyday life, with more than 45% stating that climate change apprehensions cast a shadow on their daily functioning.
The study also highlighted a poignant fact. The source of this deluge of negative emotions stems largely from the inertia of government and corporate juggernauts. These feelings of betrayal outstrip reassurance, with an emphatic 83% expressing disappointment at the perceived failure of the powers-that-be to act as stewards of our planet. A sense of betrayal, the study found, was intimately tied to climate anxiety and distress, magnified by the perceived inaction of governments.
By providing relief for the distressed and amplifying awareness using The Climate Clock, we aim to alleviate suffering and catalyze climate action.
It's important to note that "climate anxiety," as a term, resonates with a specific audience, and some label it a manifestation of privilege or a symptom of white fragility. However, the underlying feelings associated with this phrase - distress, worry, fear - are not new or limited to a specific demographic. Tethered to environmental concerns, these emotions have coursed through communities globally for generations. Indeed, for marginalized populations already contending with the brunt of environmental degradation, this anxiety is not a prospective threat but an immediate and tangible reality.
These feelings are not without basis. Scientific alarm bells are ringing, warning us that we're barreling towards a precipice – a catastrophic 1.5ºC rise in global temperatures, potentially as early as 2027 – unless we slam the brakes with both feet.
Enter the Climate Clock, a global project to get the world to act in time.
(L-R) Climate mental health messages on the world-famous Climate Clock in Union Square, NYC, Climate mental health messages that will be displayed on the 100s of handheld Climate Clocks deployed globally.(Photo: Courtesy of Climate Clok
We ourselves have been accused of creating climate anxiety by delivering the hard truths that most of us, understandably, would want to push into the background. But our dialogues with countless activists and young people make one thing clear:
The trigger of anxiety is not climate truth; it's the unsettling silence of inaction echoing against that truth. It's the chorus of climate denial, the procrastination of crucial actions, and the peddling of half-measure solutions that amplify mental distress, especially among the young generation.
The remedy for climate anxiety aligns perfectly with the answer to our climate crisis: immediate, unyielding, collective action on climate change.
Young people, pioneers of hope and resilience, are already stepping up to the plate. And following their lead are the older generations who are recalibrating their priorities, dedicating their twilight years to bringing about change, as highlighted by initiatives like the Third Act.
The missing jigsaw piece in this picture is unequivocal action from government leaders and industry behemoths. We must systematically dismantle the fossil fuel industry to guarantee our current generation, and all those who follow, the chance of a fulfilling, safe life.
However, the journey towards a climate-secure future is strewn with obstacles. Fierce resistance from industry, seemingly more committed to their shareholders than the survival of our species, particularly the fossil fuel conglomerates and their banking benefactors, steepens our path forward.
To navigate this challenge, we must take care of our mental well-being here and now. To this end, the Climate Clock has launched a 'hotline' - www.mentalhealthhotline.earth - for Climate Mental Health, a cache of resources dedicated to providing immediate assistance to those grappling with climate anxiety. This provision extends a lifeline to those navigating the stormy seas of our changing world, sparking not only the fight for our planet's preservation but also the resilience of our people.
This hotline connects those in need to a wide variety of support resources - from helplines and climate cafes to online forums and specialized mental health services tackling climate-related issues. This network spans the globe, drawing on resources from organizations like the Climate Psychology Alliance, Force of Nature, Good Grief Network, Climate Awakening, Gen Dread, and Psychologists for the Future. You’ll find the hotline displayed on our monolithic Climate Clock in Union Square, New York City, and echoed in the hundreds of handheld Climate Clocks around the world, reaching from teachers in DRC and Italy to youth activists in Turkey and Tokyo and extending to activist organizations in Ghana, the Netherlands, Kosovo, and Brazil.
By providing relief for the distressed and amplifying awareness using The Climate Clock, we aim to alleviate suffering and catalyze climate action, turning the tide on both eco-anxiety and the climate crisis.