How do you stay hopeful in the face of the climate crisis?
If we want to create a better future for everyone, we’re going to need to stay hopeful somehow... Let's explore.
Last week we learnt we had just experienced the hottest day on Earth, on the 3rd of July, until we topped that with a hotter day on the 4th of July, and an even hotter day on the 5th. We’ve seen forest fires across Canada, which created air quality warnings for the northeast of the USA, with skies over New York turning red. Typhoons across East Asia, cyclones in Myanmar, Malawi, Mozambique, Madagascar and Zimbabwe, and floods in Italy and South Sudan to name just a few, and the list goes on. Even if you’re the type who can usually stay positive, the climate crisis is really testing our ability to stay hopeful this year.
Which I understand is an incredibly privileged thing to say, that the biggest effects the climate crisis has on me (currently) are scary headlines, warm weather, occasional food shortages, and that one wildfire. But apart from my 3 subscribers from India, 2 from Brazil, and 1 from Japan, we’re all living in the Global North, which means we’re most likely experiencing similar-ish levels of climate change. I can’t explicitly help those in the most need–apart from recognising my privilege, donating money, fighting for change, etc–and the fact that these people are in need doesn’t take away our lived experience. The climate crisis is fucking terrifying, and if we want to create a better future for everyone, those of us in the global north are going to need to stay hopeful somehow.
This post is inspired by Andrew Boyd’s incredible book ‘I Want a Better Catastrophe: Navigating the Climate Crisis with Grief, Hope, and Gallows Humor’ which I highly recommend you read. Last week, I asked you all how you stay hopeful/peaceful/sane in the face of the climate crisis, so I’ll be sharing some of your stories throughout this article. You can read all the responses here. Thank you to everyone who responded. <3
In the mid-2010s, there was an anonymous quote that went around my internet circles that went: “We are the middle children of history. Born too late to explore earth, born too early to explore the galaxy.” Apart from everyone thinking it was really, really deep, it brought a lot of conversations up about the fact that we believed we live in a boring part of the Earth’s timeline. Well, 10 years later, it turns out that we actually live in a very eventful time, a time where all our actions count, one where we can make history, one where we have to make history.
As doomer psychotherapist Jamey Hecht said: “[S]omebody had to draw the short straw of history, and we happen to be among their number. [...] The Earth had to end at some point, and when it did, somebody had to be there to witness it.” Perhaps you’re in agreement, perhaps this sentence caused a visceral reaction inside of you (I’ve got a bit of both) but it goes to show we’ve landed at a very strange(?), peculiar(?), unexpected(?), unfamiliar(?) part of history, and we’re just going to have to get used to it.
: Oddly, I think that staying informed is one of the best ways I’ve helped myself stay sane. I think that fear lies in the unknown, especially for something so big and intangible like the climate crisis. Leaning in and seeking out the news, the stories, both bad and good, keeps me afloat. There’s a lot of bad stories out there, but there is also plenty of good.
I’ve asked how we stay hopeful, but what is hope? Is it hopeful to believe that humans will fix the problems we’ve created for ourselves? Is it hopeful to believe that the government will pull their finger out and actually do something substantial about the climate crisis? Is it hopeful to believe that an Elon Musk type will invent some kind of amazing technology to suck all of the carbon out of the air at the last possible second and save us all? (I say Elon Musk type because if that man can’t even run a social media site effectively, he’s certainly not going to save us all.) If we look at our track record, this kind of hopefulness could be classed as naivety. When our hopes are crushed by objective reality repeatedly, it’s pretty hard to stay hopeful.
But if we take a grounded hope approach, one where we embrace the full paradox of our predicament, we can recognise the full gravity of the situation we’re facing and still be hopeful. It’s not dependent on outcomes–a proactive government or techno-modernist billionaires–it's grounded in love for the Earth, for humanity, for our lives, and our passion to keep everything alive.
If our hope isn’t based on the certainty that everything will be okay, it holds stronger. Activist Tim DeChristopher speaks about when it becomes clear a person you love is going to die, you will still continue to care for them even when it’s not based on the expectation that they’re going to survive, that they’re going to be okay.
Our hope, our activism, our actions, can’t be based on the expectation that our society will continue to function the way it’s been functioning for the last few hundred years. If instead, it's a proclamation of our love for the planet, for those around us, and for those who will come after us, it’s much easier to keep going.
It’s also essential to remember that the human species have been through a lot. Wars, genocides, dictatorships, and a never-ending list of the most brutal periods of history. But through these dark times, we’ve always had incredible resilience, telling stories, singing songs, and taking care of one another.
: “Acknowledging all the harder feelings and then validating them by speaking them into existence is huge (in journals, with friends, therapist) and allows rooms for possibility and the wonder that lies in that space once the elephants are acknowledged. Also prioritizing time in and with nature, grounding into the now instead of living in my head. Outside is where true wonder exists -- loving this earth up and witnessing her moment to moment in a flower, in a bud, in a changing season always brings me home.”
I am always nervous to share my true opinion on the climate crisis, as you never know where someone is at in their own journey of understanding and grieving. If I share scary information someone hasn’t heard before, am I going to send them into a spiral of doom?
This is a place where I try to help us make sense of the world and find some sanity–hence the name–but that doesn’t mean I think our future will be sunshine and rainbows (well, maybe too much sunshine) but I also don’t believe we are all doomed. Read the next paragraph with the forewarning that it might unsettle you, the knowledge that I’m not an expert and none of us really know what is going to happen.
I believe that society as we know it will most likely collapse over the coming generations. I don’t know how hard we are going to fall, but ‘business-as-usual’ will not be continuing into the future. I’m not sure if it’ll be in my lifetime, my kid's lifetime, my grandchildren’s lifetime, or my great-grandchildren’s lifetime (you get my point), but it is coming.
But I don’t think that this collapse is ultimately a bad thing. Only a few of us on this planet get to enjoy modernity’s gifts, and of those of us who do, how many of us actually, truly enjoy them? Are we really happy to live in a society where we have to work countless hours to afford to be alive? In a society where we are so disconnected from others that being human has been repackaged and sold back to us? In a society run on hate, violence, and oppression? I don’t think so.
You may notice I said my kid's lifetime. I’m not an anti-natalist, I have wanted children my entire life, and I’m not going to let a bit of global warming stop me–I’m kidding. I believe that having children in this world is an act of hope, and I would like to be able to instil in my children the tools they need to help us create a better future.
It took me a while to be okay with our fast-approaching future. I’m not always at peace, it’s a grieving process that gets shorter each time I experience it. Ultimately, I’m looking forward to learning new skills, creating a community of people I can rely on, and exploring ways to create a better world.
Okay, doom-y bit over.
: I'm working on pulling myself out of severe anxiety and depression around this, and it's been very hard - but what's helping is:
Finding a counsellor who takes the climate crisis seriously (or at least treats my fears as valid) and is well versed in existentialism and talking about life's BIG questions (what does it mean to face death? Does life have meaning? How can you find joy in the face of possible annihilation?).
Talking, talking, talking. Reaching out to people instead of isolating in my fear.
Thinking deeply about what my values are, and how I would put them into action if I knew for certain I only had one/five/ten/twenty years to live.
Taking time each day to remind myself that suffering and death have always been the 'cost' of living.
Taking time each day to think on geological/cosmic timescales. One day the Sun will swallow the Earth, and one day all the stars will go out and the universe will come to an end.
...but not thinking about these things all day every day. Reminding myself that I am 'allowed' to enjoy the moment right now.
We all want solid answers in life, what going to happen next? Will we solve climate change? What technology could save us? What’s the future like for humanity? What can we be hopeful for? But, unfortunately, this is something that we will ultimately never know. We might be on the brink of collapse, or a few steps away from saving the world. Right now, we’re living in a soup of uncertainty, and it’s not going to be ending anytime soon.
I Want a Better Catastrophe and its interviewees speak to preparing ourselves for the ending whilst also fighting for a new beginning, attempting to be in service as both a hospice worker and a midwife. Will we be holding the Earth’s hand through droughts, fires, and rising sea levels or will we be watching the birth of a new society, one which is better for everyone?
Kate Seren: What helps me most is being able to stay in the unknown. None of us know truly how or when events will unfold. So being able to feel and be 'ok' with not knowing, has been the most transformational practice of my life. I also love the whole idea and ethos of hospicing modernity. If we are giving palliative care to what surrounds us, to ourselves - our dreams, hopes, fixed beliefs - how best might we care for our planet, the people around us and ourselves. This is where actions become worthwhile, whatever those actions are, that move to care for other beings human and otherwise.
Us humans are pretty bad at doing the things we know we need to/want to do. But, when a deadline is introduced, most of us are able to pull our finger out. This may sound morbid, but I’ve been playing with seeing the end of the world as a deadline to live with more urgency.
When there are no longer ten, twenty, or thirty years of time to do the thing I want to do then it’s time to hurry up and get on with the thing. I can no longer wait for some far-off date in the future until I learn to sew, learn to garden, learn to paint, learn to insert- the-thing-you’ve-been-wanting-to-do-here when that far-off date may no longer exist. As Hecht says “Your job at the end of the world is to become a happier person.”
Like the lovely people I’ve quoted throughout this article, there are many ways to stay hopeful in the face of the climate crisis. Activities that came up over and over again in the responses included understanding that you can’t control the future, staying present in what you can actually do has also been a soothing technique for people, or taking account of what small changes you can make in your corner of the world this week without making yourself feel overwhelmed.
Talking about climate change was another popular technique, whether this be to a therapist, your friends and family, or just to your journal, refusing to stay isolated in your fear and sharing with others allows you to work through your thoughts and make sense of these extraordinary times.
Most important, I believe, was the point of not thinking about climate change all the time. We are, unfortunately, fleshy little monkey-brained creatures and we are not built to constantly consider humanity’s potential doom. It’s okay to go a few days without reading the news, without doing activism, without worrying about the climate crisis. Being a happy human is the most important thing you can do right now. Taking care of yourself is the first step in believing in a better world is possible for us all.
P.S. If you enjoy my writing, you can buy me a coffee to fuel my work.
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Thankyou so much for doing this, and being group hug inclusive. (Tried to shout you a coffee but the payment page there doesn't work on my mobile). Much essential for for emotional thought, and at least one proper sigh relaxing. Thanks everyone who contributed.
I'm here for the thoughtful content but stay for the Elon Musk (types) jabs ;)
Thank you for weaving this together, Isabelle. A beautiful contemplation and useful community resource. I too stand in the social collapse camp of doom, and appreciate the idea of that being not all bad, of it freeing us in some ways, delivering us from the expensive, insane hamster wheel that is modernity. A complex grief indeed.