Saving Us

by Katharine Hayhoe

  Instead, I prefer the classification system created by researchers Tony Leiserowitz and Ed Maibach. Called Global Warming’s Six Americas, it divides people into six groups rather than just two. Tony and Ed have tracked changes in these groups nationally since 2008. At one end of the spectrum, there are the Alarmed, the only group that has grown significantly since they began the study. The Alarmed are convinced global warming is a serious and immediate threat but many still don’t know what to do about it. In 2008, they made up just 18 percent of the U.S. population. By the end of 2019, they had reached 31 percent, before falling back to 26 percent in 2020. The next group, the Concerned, also accept the science and support climate policies, but see the threat as more distant. They started at 33 percent in 2008 and moved down to 28 percent by 2020 as more became Alarmed. The number of the Cautious, who still need to be convinced that the problem is real, serious, and urgent, has remained steady around 20 percent. The Disengaged are people who know little and care less. They’ve gone from 12 percent in 2008 to 7 percent in 2020. Next there are the 11 percent of Americans who remain Doubtful and don’t consider climate change a serious risk, or consider it much at all. Finally, at the far end of the spectrum, there are the 7 percent who remain Dismissive. Angrily rejecting the idea that human-caused climate change is a threat, they are most receptive to misinformation and conspiracy theories.

  INTRODUCING THE DISMISSIVE

  You might know a Dismissive. A Dismissive is someone who will discount any and every thing that might show climate change is real, humans are responsible, the impacts are serious, and we need to act now. In pursuit of that goal, they will dismiss hundreds of scientific experts, thousands of peer-reviewed scientific studies, tens of thousands of pages of scientific reports, and two hundred years of science itself.

  Dismissives can’t leave the topic of climate change alone. They’re constantly commenting on Facebook posts, talking about it at family dinners, forwarding articles they’ve found that buttress their point. They may go out of their way to ridicule people who support climate action and environmentally friendly behavior, such as driving fuel-efficient cars, installing solar panels, and adopting plant-based diets. They quote blogs that peddle pseudoscience claiming that the Antarctic ice sheet is growing, or that scientists are faking global temperature data. Dismissives dominate the comment section of online articles and the op-ed pages of the local newspaper. They account for most of the attacks I receive on social media, too.

  Because of their obsession with the topic, when we dream about having a constructive conversation with someone about climate change, often a Dismissive is the first person who comes to mind. Unfortunately, though, the “seven-percenters,” as I think of them, are the only ones it’s nearly impossible to have a positive conversation with. Here’s why.

  My uncle is a Dismissive. For a long time, he voiced his objections to climate change at family reunions and in conversations with my dad. But last year, he decided to email them directly to me. His arguments were nothing new: they challenged the basic physics of heat-trapping gases and blamed climate change on natural factors, not humans. So I replied to his email with detailed sources explaining the physics scientists have understood since the 1800s. I also sent him some articles from the helpful Skeptical Science website debunking the arguments he’d raised.

  I imagined it would take my uncle at least a few days to wade through and consider the resources I’d provided. Instead, he responded almost immediately, dismissing what I’d sent and voicing even more arguments. What had happened? I had fallen right into the trap of believing that facts could convince someone whose identity is built on rejecting climate science.

  We often believe that “if we just tell people the facts, since people are basically rational beings, they’ll all reach the right conclusions,” cognitive linguist George Lakoff explains. But that’s not the way we humans think. Instead, we think in what he calls “frames.” Frames are cognitive structures that determine how we see the world. When we encounter facts that don’t fit our frame, it’s the frame that stays while “the facts are either ignored, dismissed, [or] ridiculed.”

  For a Dismissive, disagreeing with the science of climate change is one of their strongest frames. It’s so integral to who they are that it renders them literally incapable of considering something they think would threaten their identity. Time and time again on social media I’ve seen Dismissives refuse point-black to even click a link that answers the question they’ve posed to me. And while I believe I’ve witnessed a few miraculous conversions, so to speak, I don’t believe my arguments had much to do with making them happen.

  So I didn’t send my uncle any more resources. And now when people ask me how I—or they—can convince a Dismissive, their parent or their colleague or their in-law or their elected official, my answer is typically “You probably can’t. But the good news is that 93 percent of us aren’t Dismissive. They’re the ones we can have constructive conversations with. They’re the ones who can make a difference.”

  HOW TO BREAK THE CLIMATE CYCLE

  How do we talk about climate change constructively with the 93 percent? Unfortunately, our instincts can lead us astray here, too. As we get more and more worried, we often feel compelled to dump scary data on people so they will share our fear. Scientists publish report after report warning of melting ice sheets, scorching heat waves, devastating rainfall events, unprecedented wildfires, and ever more powerful hurricanes. We desperately want to sound the alarm—and we’re not wrong. Climate change is alarming. But our natural reaction often makes the situation worse, not better.

  Research on everything from airplane seatbelts to hand washing in hospitals shows that bad-news warnings are more likely to make people check out than change their behavior. And the more vivid and dire the picture painted, the less responsive the recipient. “Fear and anxiety [can] cause us to withdraw, to freeze, to give up, rather than take action,” neuroscientist Tali Sharot explains in her book The Influential Mind.

  So if arguing with the 7 percent who are Dismissives and dumping more scary information on the other 93 percent of people doesn’t really work, is there anything that does?

  Yes, there is.

  Start with something you have in common. Connect it to why climate change matters to us personally—not the human race in its entirety or the Earth itself, but rather us as individuals. Climate change affects nearly everything that we already care about. It will make us and our children less healthy, our communities less prosperous, and our world less stable. Often, in fact, it already has.

  Then, describe what people can and are doing to fix it. There are all kinds of solutions, from cutting our own food waste to powering buses with garbage to using solar energy to transform the lives of some of the poorest people in the world. There are solutions that clean up our air and our water, grow local economies, encourage nature to thrive, and leave us all better off, not worse. Who doesn’t want that?

  This book is packed with stories, ideas, and information that will lead to positive conversations—conversations that bridge gaps rather than dig trenches, conversations that may surprise you with the discovery of common ground.

  By bonding over the values we truly share, and by connecting them to climate, we can inspire one another to act together to fix this problem. But it all begins with understanding who we already are, and what we already care about—because chances are, whatever that is, it’s already being affected by climate change, whether we know it or not.

  2 WHO I AM

  “Climate change public communication and engagement efforts must start with the fundamental recognition that people are different and have different psychological, cultural, and political reasons for acting.”

  TONY LEISEROWITZ AND ED MAIBACH, GLOBAL WARMING’S SIX AMERICAS 2009

  “Those people who talk about global warming, I don’t agree with them at all! But this? This makes sense.”

  WOMAN AT TEXAS WATER CONSERVATION AUTHORITY MEETING TO
KATHARINE

  It’s nearly impossible to make someone care about climate change for the same reasons I do. But I don’t think I have to, and you don’t, either. Through thousands of conversations, I’ve become truly convinced that nearly everyone already has the values they need to care about the future of our world, even if they’re not the same as mine or yours. And if they don’t think they care, it’s because they just haven’t connected the dots. When they do, they’ll see for themselves that caring about climate change is entirely consistent with who they are. Climate action, in fact, can be an even more genuine expression of their identity and their values than inaction or denial would be.

  As I walked into the drab hotel ballroom to give a guest talk at our local West Texas Rotary Club’s luncheon gathering, a massive banner in the entryway caught my eye. At the top, it said: “The Four-Way Test,” followed by the club’s guiding principles. To assess the value of the things we think, say, or do, they ask:

  One—is it the TRUTH?

  Two—is it FAIR to all concerned?

  Three—will it build GOODWILL and BETTER FRIENDSHIPS?

  And four—will it be BENEFICIAL to all concerned?

  “That’s climate change, and climate action,” I thought, amazed. Is climate change the truth? Absolutely. Is it fair? Absolutely not. In fact, that’s exactly why I care about it, because it’s so profoundly unfair. Would addressing it build goodwill and be beneficial to all concerned? For sure! Inspired, I skipped the buffet lunch and spent the next twenty minutes furiously reorganizing my presentation into the Four-Way Test.

  * * *

  After lunch, I began. At first, there were a lot of folded arms; but as I worked my way through the Four-Way Test, people leaned forward. Heads started to nod. They recognized their values on the screen.

  First, climate change is the truth. Scientists have counted over 26,500 independent lines of evidence—including fruit trees blooming earlier, butterflies moving north, and glaciers melting—showing that yes, the planet is warming. It’s the truth.

  Second, climate change is not fair. It affects our farmers who’ve done little to cause it, decreasing their crop yields as climate change brings stronger droughts and heat waves. As one local cotton producer recently told me, “I haven’t had a good dryland cotton crop since 2007. Fourteen years of unrelenting summer drought!” And what about the poor who benefit from the projects the Rotary Club funds? They’ve done virtually nothing to contribute to climate change, yet are suffering the worst of its impacts.

  What about climate solutions? Rather than being punitive and harmful, many build goodwill and better friendships and, yes, are beneficial as well. Fort Hood, the largest army base in the U.S. by land area, was located right there in Texas. In 2015, they began to transition from fossil fuels to renewable power. Fort Hood now draws 45 percent of its power from solar and wind, saving taxpayers millions. As of 2020, wind and solar energy employed over thirty-seven thousand people across Texas.

  By the end of my talk, most heads were nodding along, and most faces were friendly. Many came up afterward to comment positively or ask further questions. Last in line was a local businessman whom I’d met a few times. He’d always been polite, but he’d never brought up climate change with me before. That day, however, he wore an expression I’d never seen before: he appeared bemused.

  “I never thought too much of this whole global warming thing,” he confessed—which is a polite Texan way of saying he’d thought it was a load of crap—“but it passed the Four-Way Test.” In other words, what could he do? He had no choice. Climate change fit right into his value system. Because he was a Rotarian, he already cared about it; he just hadn’t realized it until that day. In fact, caring about climate change made him an even better and more genuine Rotarian than he’d been before.

  In everyday life, we don’t usually get to walk up to a giant banner displaying the rules someone lives by before launching into a conversation. So to figure out where to open a discussion, take inventory of who you are and what you might have in common with others you know and meet. If you don’t know what matters to them, ask. Then listen carefully to what they say. Here’s my inventory.

  WHERE I LIVE

  Home is often central to our identity so one of the first things you can ask is, where do you live? I live in Texas, as did everyone else at that Rotary Club meeting. Like them, I want to know that water will come out when I turn on the tap. I also want to know that my house won’t be destroyed by floods, and that our city won’t turn into a ghost town because we didn’t prepare for stronger, longer droughts as climate changes. I’m pretty sure most people in Texas would feel the same way.

  When I was invited to address the Texas Water Conservation Authority’s annual meeting a few years ago, I decided to try another new approach. I talked, as always, about how temperature and precipitation were changing, and how securing water supply and managing reservoirs would become critically important in a warming world. But I never mentioned the touchy words “climate” and “change” together.

  As I collected my computer from the podium afterward, an older woman in a tweed suit came running up to me. She grabbed my hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “I agree with everything you said!” she exclaimed. “Of course we have to prepare!”

  Then she continued, disapprovingly, “Those people who talk about global warming, I don’t agree with them at all.” My mind boggled at this: I’d shown climate projections for higher and lower temperatures in my presentation. If that wasn’t global warming, what was?

  “But this,” she concluded with emphasis, speaking about my presentation, “this makes sense.” By focusing on what we had in common and avoiding the trigger words that would have turned her off, we were able to agree completely that Texas needed smarter water planning to cope with a warmer world.

  WHAT I LOVE DOING

  What do you enjoy doing? For many of us, exercising and spending time outdoors is crucial to our mental health. Something as simple as walking around the neighborhood has helped to lift my mood during the coronavirus pandemic. Many of my most cherished and evocative memories are of the outdoors: the pine woods of Ontario I’d run through as a child, the windy expansive view from the Colorado mountain I summitted with my dad, the shifting blue-green waters of the Great Lakes where I’d sail with my grandpa.

  As a family, we love to ski and snowboard together. But a study I did for Sports Illustrated back in 2007 showed that many lower-elevation and more southern ski resorts may be unable to open consistently as climate changes. Already, conditions are getting warmer and often drier, too. I’ve experienced this firsthand; living in Texas, our favorite place to ski is New Mexico. Just a few years ago, they experienced a winter so hot and dry, some ski areas weren’t able to fully open for the season.

  I’m sure there are people who enjoy the outdoors who don’t think climate change matters to them. I’m even more sure that most of them would care about it, passionately, if they really understood what’s at risk. Many professional and amateur winter athletes recognize that climate change is affecting their winter recreation. They’re using their social media platforms and interviews to explain why we need to tackle it before it’s too late. Companies like Burton and Patagonia are coming alongside, interspersing information on their websites about how climate change affects snow and ice between videos about untracked powder in Kazakhstan and photos of first summits in the Andes. If we care about the outdoors, then we care about climate change.

  WHERE I’M FROM

  What is your home country? I’m Canadian, and—like most of us—I love my country. I’m proud of its diversity, its thriving cities, and its natural beauty. But I also see the real threats climate change poses: the encroaching invasive species, thawing permafrost, bigger wildfires, sinking coastlines, and increasing flood risk that have already taken a toll on our True North.

  I grew up in a house without air-conditioning, yet just a few decades later it’s now a basic necessity i
n southern Canada. And though Canada has a reputation for accepting refugees from the farthest ends of the Earth, it’s estimated that climate change could displace as many as a billion people by mid-century. That’s many times more than our entire population.

  If climate change continues unchecked, Canada will struggle to ensure the safety and well-being of its own people and economy, let alone make a dent in the coming global refugee crisis. That’s why, if you’re a Canadian, you care, too: even if you don’t know it. And if you’re not, I bet I could come up with just as compelling a list of reasons why citizens of your country care about climate change, too.

  THOSE I LOVE

  Who do you love? Being a mom is a big part of who I am. People can tell you what it’s like to become a parent, but until it happens, it’s nearly impossible to understand the reaction you experience the first instant you lay eyes on that red-faced, squalling bundle. It literally felt like something in my chest had rearranged itself, and it’s never been the same since.

  I care about climate change because of my child’s future, and that of his cousins, and my friends’ kids, too. And how could any caring parent, grandparent, uncle, or aunt not care, if they truly understood the risks?

  Organizations like the Mom’s Clean Air Force advocate for clean air and a safe world for our kids. I’m also part of Science Moms, where scientists who are moms share with other moms what we know and how we can raise our voices to support climate action and protect our kids’ future. By definition we all care, because we love our kids and want this planet to continue to be a safe home for them.