Chapter 2. The Mental Health Impacts of Climate News
Intense media coverage of climate change has profound impacts on audiences. In recent years, psychologists and communication scholars have studied “climate anxiety” (or “eco-anxiety”) as a response to consuming climate news. The findings confirm that a steady drumbeat of alarming climate news can trigger a range of emotional reactions in the public, including fear, anger, grief, and hopelessness (1, 2).
Multiple large-scale surveys show high levels of climate-related distress, especially among young people. A 2021 global study of 10,000 youth (age 16–25) across ten countries found 59% were “very” or “extremely” worried about climate change, and 84% were at least moderately worried (3). Over half of these young respondents reported feeling sad, anxious, angry, powerless, helpless, or guilty about the climate crisis (3). Importantly, 45% said their feelings about climate change negatively affected their daily life and functioning (3) – a striking indication that climate news is not a passive concern but an active source of stress for many youths. A follow-up study focusing on U.S. teens and young adults echoed these results: nearly 60% of American youth described themselves as very or extremely worried about climate change, and over 85% said they experience some level of climate anxiety (4). This “profound psychological distress” stems from the awareness of worsening climate impacts and frustration at insufficient action (4).
Climate anxiety isn’t limited to young people. National surveys by Yale’s Program on Climate Change Communication report that about 16% of U.S. adults feel anxiety or depression when thinking about climate change (5). Rather than shutting down, many of these anxious individuals are galvanized by their concern – they are more likely to take action such as protesting, contacting elected officials, or volunteering, compared to those less worried (5). “Some have presumed that people experiencing eco-anxiety are paralyzed by their fears… but we find the opposite,” notes the Yale study’s co-author, pointing out that most are actively trying to solve the problem rather than “hiding under the covers.” (5). This aligns with other research suggesting that a moderate level of climate anxiety can spur engagement. A 2021 study in Italy found that people who paid closer attention to climate change in the media had higher climate-related anxiety and higher feelings of efficacy – meaning they felt more capable of taking action (6). In fact, that study concluded that “a moderate level of anxiety” might be healthy because it “could engender feelings of virtue, encouraging people to rethink actions with negative ecological impacts.” (6). In other words, some worry can be motivating, especially if paired with a sense that one’s actions matter.
There is a fine line between productive concern and debilitating despair. Communication experts warn that media coverage skewed too heavily toward doom and catastrophe can backfire.
Constant exposure to “worst-case scenario” news, without context or solutions, may leave audiences feeling overwhelmed and powerless – a phenomenon dubbed the “hope gap.” Studies have found that U.S. and UK media tend to focus on “horror and carnage” in climate stories, while paying comparatively little attention to potential solutions (7). This imbalance fuels hopelessness: people “fret about global warming but feel powerless to do anything about it” when news highlights the problem far more than actions or progress (7). As Yale climate communication director Anthony Leiserowitz observes, many in the public (even those most alarmed about climate change) report feeling despair and exhaustion when bombarded with catastrophic news without a path forward (7). Psychologists echo that high-risk messages must be paired with efficacy – otherwise audiences may become cynical or numb. Communication campaigns should aim to enhance both risk perceptions and efficacy beliefs and try to avoid frightening people who have low efficacy beliefs (8). In practice, this means journalism should not only sound the alarm about climate threats, but also inform people about solutions and ways to respond, to prevent a paralysis of fear.
Indeed, emerging research on climate communications shows that more constructive framing can evoke very different emotions. One study by Feldman and Hart found that climate news reports emphasizing actions (mitigation efforts, community responses, solutions) significantly increase feelings of hope in audiences, and even decrease feelings of fear and anger (9). Notably, these effects held true across the political spectrum – suggesting that solution-oriented reporting can uplift and engage a broad audience, without triggering the defensive backlash that doom-laden stories sometimes provoke (9). Another analysis argues that “solutions stories” featuring people tackling climate challenges through grassroots action or policy change tend to improve audience engagement and optimism, compared to doom-and-gloom narratives (10). In essence, journalism that balances urgency with agency – conveying the seriousness of climate risks while highlighting that something can be done – may help readers channel anxiety into constructive outlooks rather than despair.
On the flip side, media that relentlessly emphasize disasters can intensify eco-anxiety. A 2023 study in the Interdisciplinary Journal of Environmental and Science Education explicitly tested how different media formats affect eco-anxiety levels (11). Participants were exposed to climate crisis stories via video, radio, or text. The study found significant increases in anxiety after watching climate-related video news, whereas audio and print had lesser effects (v). The vivid imagery of televised reports appeared to heighten emotional impact. The authors confirmed that media are “the main source of information about climate change” for most people, and thus “eco-anxiety is mainly evoked by media reporting.” (11). This doesn’t mean journalists should avoid covering climate impacts – but it underscores their responsibility to do so in a trauma-aware way that informs rather than overwhelms the public. As one climate psychology expert put it, media must learn to “reframe despair” into actionable concern, so that audiences are neither falsely reassured nor pushed into hopelessness (12).
To summarize, consuming climate journalism can produce a complex mix of emotions in audiences. Fear, sadness, and anxiety are common responses to news about an existential threat. When these feelings are coupled with helplessness, they contribute to climate anxiety and stress. But when journalism provides context that empowers (for example, stories of effective climate solutions or adaptations), it can inspire hope and even motivate action. The challenge for climate reporters is to strike a balance – neither downplaying the scientific reality nor neglecting the human need for hope and agency. Trauma-aware climate reporting recognizes that the goal is not to induce panic, but to foster understanding and resilience in the face of a daunting crisis.
The Emotional Toll of Covering Climate Change
Climate journalists often refer to their beat as the “apocalypse beat,” reflecting how routinely they cover devastating scenarios. Many experience nightmares or intrusive thoughts related to their reporting. Environmental journalist Yessenia Funes, for instance, has recurring climate-related night terrors. In one case, she dreamt of being killed by a tornado – an anxiety shared by a third of Americans who report dreaming about the climate crisis (13). “Covering environmental and climate justice is hard work. It’s emotional… it’s actually grown more painful,” Funes writes, noting that humor can only numb the pain temporarily (13). This emotional strain is widespread among climate reporters, who half-jokingly acknowledge the mental weight of “holding space for these stories” as disasters intensify (13).
Frontline climate reporting can resemble war or disaster correspondence in terms of trauma exposure. Journalists are often first on the scene of wildfires, floods, and hurricanes, witnessing destruction and suffering up close. “Simply witnessing the aftermath of such destruction and the suffering of others also counts as trauma,” explains psychologist Elana Newman of the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma (13). Newman notes that while many journalists remain psychologically healthy, “a few will walk away with post-traumatic stress disorder” (13). Even without full PTSD, reporters may experience “intrusions” (disturbing thoughts and images), erosion of their worldview, irritability, and other persistent effects that “need attention” (13). In short, covering relentless climate catastrophes takes a mental toll comparable to covering conflicts, yet historically newsrooms have not treated it as such.
Covering repeated climate-fueled disasters (like flooding from Hurricane Fiona, above) can lead to serious psychological impacts for journalists (14). Research has found that 20% of reporters who covered a major hurricane developed storm-related PTSD, and 40% showed signs of depression afterwards (14).
Reporters themselves have begun speaking openly about how climate reporting affects their well-being. Samantha Harrington, of Yale Climate Connections, describes carrying “not only [her] own grief, but also the trauma of [her] sources and audiences” (15). After interviewing a mother who lost her child to wildfire smoke, Harrington recognized the need to care for herself in the process. “All we do is climate change,” she says of her outlet’s focus, so the team planned ahead to avoid burnout – lightening workloads during peak summer disaster season by preparing stories in advance (15). Before the difficult interview, she read up on trauma-informed reporting; afterward, she took a walk to clear her head (15). Thanks to supportive editors who gave her “grace and moments to breathe,” she ended that day feeling “good… thinking about the care as part of the work” (15).
Freelance environmental journalist Britny Cordera likewise recounts how “the loss of what once was is really sad to me and heavy and worthy of grief” when covering extinctions and ecosystem collapse (15). Lacking institutional support as an independent reporter, Cordera at times felt “abandoned by the very newsrooms meant to protect her”, dealing not only with climate grief but also typical job stress like deadlines (15). In response, she’s adopted personal mental health routines – therapy, medication, yoga and skating – to cope (15). She even recommends resources like The Mindful Self-Compassion Workbook to fellow journalists (15). Still, Cordera emphasizes that individual coping can only go so far; systemic supports (such as unionizing newsrooms, better healthcare access, and reasonable workloads) are needed so that climate reporters “can’t carry this burden alone” (15).
In India, Vaishnavi Rathore, a climate reporter for Scroll.in, realized a story was “weighing heavily” on her when it began to invade her sleep (13). After covering deadly landslides in the Himalayas – a region she found transformed by climate impacts – Rathore dreamed of an avalanche happening before her eyes (13). She woke with intense guilt, thinking, “I am only dreaming about this, but there are people who have actually witnessed it” (13). That guilt is common among journalists who feel their own distress is trivial compared to victims’ suffering. As one Caribbean climate reporter admitted, many journalists hesitate to seek help because “the people they cover are experiencing much greater suffering” – but such guilt “does not lessen the impact of a traumatic event” on the journalist (14). Suppressing their emotions often “makes recovery more difficult”, experts warn (14).
Photojournalists and field reporters covering climate disasters describe haunting scenes that stay with them. Seigonie Mohammed, a TV journalist from Trinidad and Tobago, still remembers the “hot, putrid stench” and utter devastation when she landed in the Bahamas after Hurricane Dorian (14). Despite experience covering Caribbean storms, she felt “mentally unprepared” for the scale of trauma during that 2019 assignment (14). “Images from that storm still haunt me,” she admits (14). Mohammed and her crew worked non-stop amid death and destruction, only to return home to a newsroom with “no culture for recovery” – no debriefs, no counseling, just immediate deadlines for the next story (14). “We had no official psychological support... besides the comfort we found in each other,” she recalls (14). Like many journalists, she simply “wore [her] anguish well” and pushed on to the next crisis (14). Over time, however, repeated exposure to climate-fueled disasters “again and again” can “wear down [journalists’] sense of agency and impact,” leading to chronic stress or burnout (14).
These testimonies illustrate why trauma-aware approaches are becoming crucial in climate journalism. Reporters are finding that they must actively manage their mental health to continue on this beat. Many are adapting their methods – both in how they report stories and how they process them afterward – to be more sustainable. For example, journalists now routinely prepare emotionally for difficult interviews (as Harrington did by studying trauma-informed techniques) and intentionally schedule downtime for recovery. Rathore makes sure to take a day off after intense field work – she runs, reads, and listens to music to decompress (13). “The importance of rest cannot be overstated,” affirms Dr. Britt Wray, director of Stanford’s climate and mental health initiative (13). In some cases, reporters seek professional help or peer support. After being overcome by emotion in her newsroom, science writer Natasha Vizcarra joined a 10-step “Good Grief Network” program to help process climate grief and anxiety (13).
Notably, journalists are also rethinking how they frame their climate stories in order to protect both their sources and themselves. Trauma-informed climate reporting emphasizes empathy and sensitivity – for example, Harrington approached an interview with a bereaved mother with extra care, knowing how delicate the conversation would be (15). This mindful approach can reduce harm to victims and may lessen vicarious trauma for the reporter. In sum, a growing number of climate journalists are acknowledging their emotional limits and embracing coping strategies (from therapy to meditation to changes in storytelling) that enable them to continue reporting on the climate crisis without sacrificing their mental health.
Newsroom Support Systems for Climate Journalists
A supportive newsroom culture – including open discussion of mental health and formal trauma protocols – can help journalists cope with the emotional toll of climate reporting (14, 16).
News organizations are beginning to acknowledge that covering climate change can exact a heavy psychological toll on journalists, and that institutional support is needed to keep reporters healthy. Just as foreign correspondents or crime reporters have long had safety checklists and trauma debriefings, editors are now considering similar measures for the climate beat. “Many newsrooms... have regular checklists to manage the dangers of covering [wars or disasters]. But the same preparedness for mental health, especially for covering climate-linked disasters, is almost unheard of,” journalist Seigonie Mohammed notes (14). She and others argue it’s “past time to fix that” by providing climate journalists with mental health checklists that outline what support will be in place “before, during, and after a potentially stressful assignment.” (14) This could include steps like pre-assignment training in trauma awareness, access to counseling or peer support after covering a disaster, and mandated rest periods following particularly grueling stories (14). Crucially, “communicating about mental health… should be part of newsroom culture” rather than a taboo (14).
Leading journalism organizations and some forward-thinking newsrooms have started developing best practices. One approach is to designate internal “well-being champions” or committees to advocate for mental health. At CBC News in Canada, investigative reporter Dave Seglins took on such a role – he completed courses on trauma and became a Dart Center Ochberg Fellow to better understand journalist PTSD (16). Seglins then convened a newsroom town hall explicitly to ask colleagues: “What can we do to build a culture of well-being around here?” (16). They gathered feedback via surveys and sparked a company-wide conversation on solutions (16). “If you’re a reporter in the newsroom, own it. Just do it,” Seglins advises, encouraging journalists at any level to organize discussions about mental health (16). Such bottom-up efforts can pave the way for formal policy changes.
Another emerging best practice is to develop protocols and training for covering traumatic events. For example, a consortium of East Coast newsrooms in the U.S. collaborated to create a trauma-awareness and peer-support program (16). Editors and reporters from multiple outlets jointly wrote a guide on handling trauma in the newsroom, then held a day-long training with experts (including psychologists and Dart Center trainers) (16). This training involved role-playing peer support scenarios – effectively teaching journalists how to watch out for each other after distressing assignments (16). The result is a peer network that can provide an outlet for journalists to discuss difficult experiences and normalize seeking help. “We can change newsroom by newsroom, person by person,” said one editor involved, underscoring that building a supportive infrastructure often starts with local initiatives (16).
Concrete newsroom policies are also being instituted to protect climate reporters’ well-being. Some media outlets have implemented mandatory time off or rotation out of coverage after a reporter witnesses a major disaster, to prevent burnout. Others, like Yale Climate Connections, adjust workloads seasonally – recognizing that summer brings an “onslaught of tragedy” from heat-driven events, the editors there plan lighter schedules and extra staffing during those months (15). This proactive scheduling helps avoid overwhelming journalists with nonstop crisis coverage. “By getting ahead on stories during the lull of winter and spring, the team isn’t overwhelmed by tragedy after tragedy [in summer],” Harrington noted of her newsroom’s approach (15). Building in recovery time is key: Stanford’s Britt Wray emphasizes that editors must give reporters permission to rest. “The importance of rest cannot be overstated,” she says, urging that journalists be allowed mental health days or lighter duties after traumatic stories (13).
Encouraging open communication about mental health is another vital step. Newsroom leaders are advised to explicitly tell staff that it’s OK to not be OK after covering traumatic climate events. This might mean managers checking in one-on-one with reporters post-assignment, or group debriefs where journalists can share what they saw and how they feel. When reporter Natasha Vizcarra broke down in tears during an editorial meeting (triggered by a discussion of wildfires affecting her home country), her editor reacted in a model way: listening with compassion, not rushing or shaming her, and giving her space to process emotions (13). “Supportive editors and newsrooms can do wonders,” Vizcarra said, reflecting that while her editor’s empathy helped immensely, “journalists need more” than just ad-hoc kindness (13). Institutionalizing that empathy – through training editors in trauma sensitivity and establishing norms for response – ensures that any journalist who has an emotional reaction will receive understanding, not stigma.
Access to professional support services is also crucial. In many regions (the Caribbean, for example), journalists noted that their organizations did “not provide counseling services following catastrophic… events.” (14) Those reporters often had to cope alone, with several saying they “keep this trauma to themselves” and just try to manage stress personally (14). As awareness grows, some news companies are contracting therapists or counselors on standby for staff who cover traumatic stories. Others partner with initiatives like the Climate Psychology Alliance, which has begun advising newsrooms on staff mental health needs (13). CPA co-president Rebecca Weston urges news executives to develop a “sophisticated understanding” of their journalists’ mental health and to rethink the expectation of strict “neutrality” when reporters are covering disasters affecting their own communities (13). “How can we be neutral in the face of mass death?” Weston asks, arguing that recognizing reporters’ humanity – rather than expecting them to be emotionless observers – is part of a trauma-informed approach (13).
Peer networks and external resources can supplement in-house support. Professional associations like the Society of Environmental Journalists (SEJ) and groups like The Uproot Project (for journalists of color on environmental beats) provide forums where climate reporters can commiserate and share coping advice (13). Webinars and workshops on “Climate, Trauma and Journalism” (such as those run by the Dart Center and Journalismfund Europe) give reporters tools to handle difficult interviews and manage their own stress (13). There are even directories for climate-aware therapists now, recognizing the specialized nature of climate anxiety and grief (13). All these resources contribute to a safety net for journalists who might otherwise feel isolated in their struggles.
Finally, some journalists advocate for newsroom structural changes to address chronic stress. This includes things like reasonable story quotas, avoidance of relentless “24/7” publishing expectations on the climate beat, and union-supported mental health provisions. Cordera’s call for more unionization speaks to this – collective bargaining can push companies to include mental health days, insurance coverage for therapy, and fair schedules in their policies (15). In newsrooms where mental health is still a stigma, even simple steps like creating a Slack channel to discuss self-care, or inviting a mental health expert for a staff Q&A, can start to chip away at the silence.
In summary, trauma-aware practices in climate journalism are advancing on two fronts: individual resilience and institutional responsibility. Journalists are educating themselves on trauma and self-care, and leaning on each other for support. At the same time, leading news organizations are instituting frameworks to support their staff – from mental health checklists and training, to compassionate editorial leadership and access to counseling. The consensus emerging is that covering climate change is a long-term marathon, not a sprint, for the media. To keep doing this essential public service, newsrooms must actively care for the caregivers (the journalists) who bring these stories to the world (15). By normalizing mental health support and adopting trauma-informed policies, the industry can help climate reporters not just survive on the job, but stay healthy and resilient for the critical work ahead (14, 15).
Below are some helpful sources related to the content in this chapter:
“The Hidden Toll of Climate Change” (Folio) reports on how Canadian media underplay climate’s psychological effects, calling for more balanced coverage.
“Climate Change and Extreme Heat Are Making Us More Anxious” (The Conversation) explains how heatwaves and climate stories increase eco-anxiety and why connection matters.
Understanding and Coping with Climate Anxiety (CMHA North Bay) emphasizes the emotional toll of negative climate news and promotes mental health awareness.
How to Transform Apocalypse Fatigue into Action on Global Warming provides a hopeful framework for turning despair into motivation.
The World Is Burning. How Can Climate Journalists Cope? offers strategies for journalists facing burnout and secondary trauma.
Chapter Highlights
Climate news often triggers strong emotions like fear, anxiety, anger, and grief, especially among young people.
Moderate climate anxiety can motivate action, but relentless negative coverage risks causing despair.
Solution-oriented journalism can empower audiences, improving mental well-being and encouraging positive engagement.
Climate reporting takes a psychological toll on journalists, similar to covering war or disasters.
Newsrooms must support climate reporters through trauma-aware practices, mental health resources, and proactive workplace policies.
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