Changing our minds about the planet: Part 2
On insecurity, pressure and resistance
My last post introduced the concept of insecurity in relation to eco-anxiety. To many researchers and practitioners, eco-anxiety is a broad church with space for all of us. But so far it has few open converts. I think exploring insecurity can help to explain that gap.
Beyond concern about natural catastrophes and environmental degradation, difficult feelings and thoughts related to the planet take specific shape within social structures and relationships. To that end, Part 1 examined how individuals and groups search for identity, purpose, and ultimately self-worth in ‘professional’ and ‘activist’ parts of the environmental movement.
What about those who do not have a job or role in sustainability? Certainly some are experiencing distress, but in others, eco-anxiety appears dormant or heavily repressed. And some social groups remain openly hostile to green action.
I want to look in more detail at what separates these psychological states. Yes, we can label defence mechanisms, like compartmentalisation or avoidance. We can bracket people pushing away from distress as ‘not yet awakened’. But I think there is more, and insecurity can be a productive place to start.
(As always, check out further resources at the bottom of the post, including places you can find personal support and community on this theme.)
Pushing down on me, pushing down on you
Especially in the Global North, many people’s first point of contact with environmental crises will not be through direct physical impacts, but the cascading effects of unsustainable systems on social and economic life.
As I wrote in Part 1, the positive potential of the eco-psychology and wellbeing discourse is to shine a light on systemic factors that make people’s lives difficult. These go beyond the socioeconomic impacts of climate change noted by, for example, the World Health Organization.
Firstly, the green transition itself also makes major shocks inevitable. Dislocation associated with economic transition is sometimes missing from the conversation around mental health. In fact, it can contribute to persistent public scepticism towards climate or ecological action.
A media landscape rife with speculation and misinformation gives rise to fears of job losses in polluting industries, or price spikes of energy and basic goods. In Europe, for instance, almost one third of people think climate policy will remove more jobs than it will create. Chalking this up to polarisation or partisanship is simplistic, although the consequences can certainly be political.
Economic hardship, such as that faced by farmers across Europe, has proved to be fertile soil for organised opposition to green policies. In Wales, for example, Alex Heffron (author of
) explains that “government investment in Welsh agriculture has declined in real terms… supermarkets continue to post eye-watering profits, while farmers endure low prices”. Centralising forces create inequality and feelings of disenfranchisement in rural areas, hindering sustainable practices.In cities, other pressures take a toll, despite (or because of) proximity to the centre’s wealth and power. Stress at work, personal finances strained by housing, energy and food costs, and the struggle to maintain a healthy community in the vast landscape of urban sprawl — all of these have a draining and muting effect on people’s empathy and sense of connection.
In addition, often we are too removed from nature to contemplate it. Compare how much time you spend consuming content on digital platforms with time spent outdoors in a natural environment, and consider how using those platforms at length makes you feel. Likewise the concrete of the urban jungle, or the plastic lawns of manicured suburbs.
Overwhelm, alienation, and burnout are commonplace. Ajay Singh Chaudhary’s recent polemic Exhausted of the Earth argues that tapping into these dissonant feelings can and should bring forth global solidarity. But such pressures weaken local community ties and leave most adults of working age disengaged with sustainability concerns, at best. A growing wellness industry suggests that tired people use their conserved energy to look after themselves (and perhaps their immediate social circle).
If these feelings are a springboard for meaningful universalism, why hasn’t the switch flipped already?
Heads in the sand
Insecurity operates not only as a physical condition and a psychological state, but also a mental framework.
Many people who aren’t under immediate threat from environmental impacts or green economic change probably ignore the climate and nature crisis for much of their day-to-day lives.
‘Disavowal’ is yet another important concept here. It means sensing or understanding that the world’s current systems are on the wrong trajectory, but mentally downplaying it so that your continued participation in those systems doesn’t feel so unpleasant.
I commit disavowal on a regular basis. To take just one example: my frequent travelling involves a shabby compromise with what I know about the greenhouse gas emissions produced by flying. In a technical sense, eco-anxiety covers this kind of head-in-the-sand behaviour on my part. But I don’t find it the most evocative concept for what that state feels like moment to moment.
Matthew Green, in his newsletter
, explains the concept well, and with admirable empathy even as he studies a case of flagrant hypocrisy by a corporate leader. He writes that “we’ve understandably adopted [disavowal] on a mass scale to navigate cultures shaped by the legacy of generations of accumulated inter-generational and collective trauma.”Because it is a collective affair, leaving disavowal behind is very difficult to do alone. The same system that restricts our agency over how the oppressed and the natural environment are treated also hinders us pschologically from recognising and talking about disavowal, both in ourselves and in those we trust and care for.
In other words, it makes us insecure. It is unpleasant to see yourself as (even a very small) part of a problem; likewise it is uncomfortable to imagine people seeing you as the killjoy rambling about global crises at a party. Many things taken for granted, above all in rich countries — a fresh pair of trainers, fast cloud computing, global football tournaments, affordable getaways — might be called into question when talk turns to ‘transition’.
For many well-meaning people, the insecurity of planetary change is not just a story of disasters in the headlines, the inhumane treatment of climate refugees, or even jobs or livelihoods at risk from green politicians. It is the psychological discomfort of recognising that what we have now might not be compatible with a fair and sustainable future for all of humanity.
Facing this discomfort head-on presents a unique opportunity to create new ways of living, less burdened by the pressures of centralised, capitalist systems. This work begins with getting more in tune with how our thoughts, feelings, and entire physiology are in direct exchange with the state of the world around us. Change has to be a collective process, but its roots are in every individual.
The harm our economy does to the Earth has created a powerful psychological malaise. By finding ourselves in this dynamic and vice versa, we can start to free ourselves and others.
Consider the ostrich
Whether language is accurate and how it is used in the world are two different questions. While writing this piece, I learned that ostriches do not stick their heads in the sand to hide from predators. As the idiom implies, that would do them little good. They stoop to turn over their eggs, laid in holes in the ground, to make sure they are evenly cool.
Going inward sometimes lets us tend to the energies we have available to create something new. From exploring my own eco-emotions and patterns and discussing this theme with friends and colleagues, I have felt just how important it is to communicate about them.
I wonder how people not actively involved in environmental work see all of this. If you relate, perhaps you’d like to reflect on the questions below.
What does the the term ‘eco-anxiety’ mean to you?
What kinds of insecurity do you feel when you think about the planet?
How do you think those feelings might be related?
I’d love to receive any thoughts you’d like to share. (Of course, I will hold any feedback on this topic in strict confidence).
Whatever we call it, and whichever form we face in our own lives, planetary insecurity is personal.
Where to go next
In Part 1, I shared One Resilient Earth’s climate circles: a safe and confidential virtual space to share emotions about the planet openly and listen deeply to each other. Having trained as a host earlier this year, I plan to hold a circle soon, so please get in touch if you’re interested in joining.
You can also find other resources and varieties of support groups from Force of Nature, Climate Awakening, the Climate Café Network, and Living with the Climate Crisis groups.
For a comprehensive and clear overview of emotions and mindsets related to climate and ecology, watch this great presentation by Dr. Sarah Jaquette Ray, author of A Field Guide to Climate Anxiety. I found the most inspiring section on ‘breakthrough inquiries’, which help us reframe and redesign our participation in the systems we live in.
Part 2 wouldn’t be complete without a
reference to match Part 1. This time, I recommend the newsletter’s interview with Dr. Panu Pihkala, whose visual model of the mental and emotional journey through eco-anxiety is a helpful tool, particularly for when you are ready to confront insecurity and move forwards. The interview also includes a discussion of ‘awakening’ to severe impacts and how people reach that in different ways. I also believe this is an example of why it’s important to unpack the early stages of ‘semi-consciousness’ of planetary crisis — whether by using the concept of insecurity, or another way — to keep the conversation as broad as possible.
What would you like to read more about (or less of) in this newsletter? Social change is best when it’s participatory, so let me know what you think. And as always, thanks for being here.