- Despite widespread acknowledgment of climate change, many people still reject the science due to ideological, psychological, or structural barriers. Simply presenting evidence is often ineffective because people absorb facts through the lens of existing beliefs.
- Overused or poorly defined terms like “green” or “rewilding” can confuse or alienate audiences. Emotionally resonant storytelling—especially oral and experiential narratives—activates different parts of the brain and is more likely to influence behavior.
- Rather than relying on fear or blame, environmental messaging should inspire, connect, and engage. Collaborating with cognitive scientists and reframing narratives can help build shared understanding and turn potential adversaries into allies.
- This post is a commentary. The views expressed are those of the author, not necessarily of Mongabay.
A recent study in the US, UK, and Australia showed that referring to the terms “climate change” or “global warming” did not affect whether people accepted what the science tells us—that the world’s climate is changing. But it showed that for various reasons, ideological or otherwise, there is a significant proportion of people who do not “believe” in climate change, despite the overwhelming evidence. In effect, there is a widespread acknowledgment of climate change (72%-85% of people worldwide), but multiple psychological and structural barriers impede understanding of its nature (natural or man-made) and the advancement of climate action. People may fail to act because climate change does not seem relevant to themselves or people they know, may be perceived as an abstract future threat, or they believe their actions are not efficacious (https://www.pnas.org/doi/10.1073/pnas.2426768122). This calls into question what matters more when trying to convey scientific findings and environmental messages: Are the arguments more relevant than the “marketing” of the information?
Based on cognitive science, some authors have debunked common myths about the relationship between evidence and human decision-making. Facts—and their quantity—do not make much of a difference, as they are absorbed into existing beliefs rather than the other way around: “When facing uncertainty, humans make decisions that are satisfactory, rather than optimal”. What emerges as a pattern from specialists in neuroscience and cognitive learning is the need to consider how different groups with varying backgrounds or ideologies incorporate facts into their thinking. Looking at the state of environmental degradation today, we may wonder: is it that we lack the arguments, or that we do not understand how humans make decisions?
In addition to these barriers, we continue to coin and use terms that, more than explaining, confuse the reader—or in some cases, misinform. Finding the definition of “rewilding,” for example, is tricky. Are we talking about reintroducing species into an environment, rebuilding natural ecosystems, or excluding human interventions? If you search, you will find multiple definitions for every term, and these are seldom self-explanatory. Yet we assume everyone understands them. Furthermore, because of overuse or misuse, several words have lost their meaning. In my mind, the terms “ecological” or “green,” more than informing, arouse suspicion and backfire in their intent.
Understanding the power of emotions and experience—i.e., engaging with our social mind—is critical. Curiously, the processing of this type of information takes place in a different sector of the brain. Oral storytelling, for example, seems to trigger parts of the brain in the listener, in a state known as “narrative transportation”. As personal experience tells me, stories stick more than facts. I recall giving lectures about rainforest ecology and plant-animal interactions. Years later, what was remembered were anecdotes and natural history stories. This approach is more effective in changing social environments and makes it easier for individuals to opt into socially desirable behaviors.
For environmental issues and journalism, we should rethink whether the narrative we use is the right one. And the strategy of scaring people—the so-called “doomsday” approach—tends to work better for those urging donations than for changing minds. Today, we have plenty of positive and encouraging lessons not only from nature, but also from people who are on the frontlines and coping with a changing climate in inspiring ways. Peasants in the Peruvian high Andes, for example, are changing their agricultural practices to produce quinoa or potatoes in ways that still bring food to their and our tables. Or those among us who have become more conscious in our personal finances, supporting better environmental practices or choosing to visit national parks to enjoy their beauty. Stories like these enrich our sense of wonder and, at the same time, can support conservation efforts. We should perhaps encourage the listener or reader in ways that reach their inner cognitive mind—touching both mind and soul in a way that shapes understanding. Lastly, finger-pointing only increases the polarization we live with today. We should be smart about turning those we might view as environmental offenders into environmental partners. In the end, we all live on the same planet.
It may be time to redefine our approach to outreach—joining forces with those who understand how the brain works. Considering the state of the planet today, it is evident that our messaging is not working. We need a revolution in narratives—and in how we tell them.
Header image: Hoatzin in Peru. Charismatic wildlife can be an effective way to drawn in audiences. Photo by Rhett A. Butler
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