Below are some helpful resources related to the content in this chapter:

WHO Policy Brief – Mental Health and Climate Change (2022): A World Health Organization brief outlines the interconnections between climate change and mental well-being, with 5 key recommendations for governments (e.g. integrating mental health into climate adaptation plans).

Mental Health and Our Changing Climate reports on climate change’s mental health impacts and inequities, and offers research findings on phenomena like eco-anxiety and recommendations for policymakers and communities to build resilience.

Health of Canadians in a Changing Climate – Mental Health Chapter provides the Government of Canada’s national assessment on mental health impacts of climate change. Contains Canadian-specific data, case examples of climate-health vulnerabilities, and guidance on adaptation measures (including the role of communication and education in reducing climate-related distress).

Chapter 1. Introduction

Effective climate communication is now recognized as an essential component of good public governance. As climate change accelerates, governments must convey its realities to citizens in ways that are responsible, scientifically grounded, and empathetic. Why is this so critical? For one, public trust hinges on transparency and accuracy. Citizens look to government for guidance during climate emergencies and for honest information about long-term risks. If communications are misleading or overly alarmist, trust can erode – yet if they downplay scientific facts, the public may be unprepared for what lies ahead. Striking this balance is a core duty of governance (1). Responsible, evidence-based communication helps communities understand both the challenges and the solutions related to climate change, from reducing emissions to preparing for impacts.

In short, how governments talk about climate change can either mobilize collective action or deepen confusion and despair.

High-quality information delivered with clarity and care empowers people to engage in climate solutions, comply with safety guidance, and support necessary policies. In contrast, poor communication – whether through spreading unwarranted panic or false reassurance – not only hinders effective climate action but can also harm public morale and mental well-being. Thus, a strategic approach grounded in scientific evidence and tailored to community contexts isn’t just preferable – it’s imperative (1).

Equally important is the tone and framing of climate messages. Research and practice have shown that communications which solely emphasize dire warnings can backfire, leading to paralysis or cynicism, whereas those that pair realism with hope and agency are more likely to inspire constructive responses. For example, public health experts in Canada have observed that the “distressing diagnosis” of climate change – essentially, the constant stream of bad news – can itself become a source of public anxiety (2). One expert noted that if we “preach so much doom and gloom” about the climate crisis, people (especially youth) may become overwhelmed or lose hope (2). Responsible governance means acknowledging these psychological dynamics. It means communicating urgency without hysteria, and progress without complacency. By providing factual information alongside clear steps people can take, governments can avoid inducing a sense of helplessness. In summary, effective climate communication in governance must be grounded in science, but also attuned to human emotions – a theme that will be explored throughout this chapter.

The Dual Challenge: Climate Change and Mental Health Impacts

Climate change poses a dual challenge to governments: addressing the physical scientific reality of a changing climate, and addressing the growing mental health impacts associated with it. Traditionally, climate change was viewed through environmental and economic lenses – rising seas, wildfire damage, agricultural losses, infrastructure costs, and so on. Today, we understand that it is also a profound psychological and mental health challenge (1). This means that governments must respond not only with policies for emissions reduction and climate adaptation, but also with support and communication strategies that mitigate trauma, anxiety, and chronic stress among the population.

On the one hand, the scientific realities demand action: more frequent extreme weather events (floods, heatwaves, hurricanes, wildfires) are already testing our emergency management and infrastructure. On the other hand, these events – and even the anticipation of future crises – are taking a toll on mental health. Consider the immediate trauma of a disaster: losing one’s home in a wildfire or being evacuated from a flood is often a traumatic experience that can lead to acute stress or longer-term conditions like post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). At the same time, the slower, pervasive changes (melting permafrost, shifting seasons, ecological degradation) and the overarching existential threat of climate change contribute to chronic psychological stressors. People may experience persistent anxiety about the future, grief over environmental losses, or a sense of dread and powerlessness when confronted with ominous scientific reports. Indeed, awareness of climate change’s magnitude can itself provoke distress – an effect noted by health professionals who say we must “acknowledge the emotional impact of the data” when we communicate climate science (2).

Emerging Evidence of Climate-Induced Distress

In recent years, a growing body of scientific evidence has documented these mental health impacts of climate change. Terms like eco-anxiety, climate grief, and solastalgia have entered public discourse, capturing different facets of climate-related distress. Eco-anxiety (or climate anxiety) refers to the chronic fear of environmental doom – a sense of worry or anxiety triggered by awareness of the threats of climate change (3). Solastalgia, a term coined by philosopher Glenn Albrecht, describes the distress caused by environmental change affecting one’s home – essentially, feeling homesick while still at home as the familiar environment is irreversibly altered (3). These responses have been called “psychoterratic syndromes” in the literature, meaning psychological reactions to earth changes; importantly, they are not necessarily pathological disorders, but natural human responses to a profound global threat (3). Nevertheless, they can be severe and debilitating for many individuals.

Surveys confirm that climate-related emotional distress is widespread. A recent national survey of young people in Canada found that a majority felt strong negative emotions about climate change – at least 56% reported feeling afraid, sad, anxious, and powerless when thinking about the climate future (4, 5). Similar international studies echo these findings, with many youths reporting a sense of betrayal and anger at governments for not doing enough. For example, in one global survey of youth, 65% agreed with the statement “Governments are failing young people” on climate action (6). These feelings, often termed eco-anxiety or climate grief, are especially common among young people, but by no means limited to them. Frontline communities – those who directly witness environmental destruction – also report deep grief and trauma. For instance, survivors of catastrophic wildfires or hurricanes may experience classic PTSD symptoms, while also mourning the loss of treasured places and ways of life. Even climate scientists and park rangers, who confront ecological damage in their work, have been found to experience eco-anxiety and burnout (3).

Crucially, climate-related mental health impacts are not distributed evenly. They intersect with social vulnerability and issues of climate justice. Populations already facing social and economic inequities tend to be hit harder by both the physical and psychological strains of climate change (3). In Canada, specific groups are disproportionately affected, including Indigenous peoples, rural and remote communities, low-income families, the elderly, people with disabilities, and those with pre-existing mental health conditions (3). Often, these communities have fewer resources to adapt or evacuate, and they may endure multiple stressors at once – for example, an Indigenous community might face the combined impact of a climate disaster and the weight of intergenerational trauma from colonialism. The concept of climate injustice recognizes that those who contributed least to climate change (such as marginalized communities and developing nations) often suffer its worst consequences. Psychologically, this adds layers of anger and moral distress on top of physical danger. A farmer who loses crops to drought may feel despair and economic anxiety, but if that farmer also belongs to a historically disadvantaged group, the event can reinforce a sense of injustice and hopelessness about the future.

Given this emerging evidence, it’s clear that governments must view climate change not only as an environmental or economic problem, but also as a mental health and equity issue. A warming planet is amplifying emotional strains and trauma risk for many citizens (3). Ignoring this reality can leave governments “wholly unprepared” – as some public health leaders warn – to support the well-being of their people (2). Thus, the dual challenge for government is to tackle both the external crisis (through mitigation and adaptation policies) and the internal crisis of fear, trauma, and stress that climate change ignites.

Evolving Government Roles and Responsibilities

How are government roles evolving in response to this dual challenge? Simply put, governments are expanding their toolkit beyond traditional policy measures – they are learning to communicate in ways that are psychologically aware, trauma-informed, and culturally sensitive. This evolution is driven by necessity. As climate impacts mount, public officials find themselves not only implementing climate policies (like building seawalls or setting emissions targets) but also consoling communities, addressing public anxiety, and helping people build emotional resilience. Climate change is testing government in new ways that blur the line between environmental policy and public health stewardship.

One aspect of this evolving role is the integration of mental health considerations into climate responses. Around the world, health authorities and governments are beginning to acknowledge that mental well-being must be part of climate adaptation plans. The World Health Organization, for example, has called on governments globally to integrate mental health support into climate action, noting that climate change “exacerbates many social, environmental and economic risk factors for problems in mental health” (7). In 2022, the WHO released a policy brief with recommendations such as developing community-based mental health services for climate-impacted areas and training health workers in psychological first aid for climate disasters (7). This kind of high-level guidance underscores that mental health is now firmly on the climate agenda. We see this trend in Canada as well. The federal Health of Canadians in a Changing Climate assessment (2022) included, for the first time, a dedicated chapter on Mental Health and Well-Being, and concluded that climate change is likely to increase the overall burden of mental illness in Canada (3). It urged that mental health “ought to become a government priority” in climate policy development (2). Such statements are shifting norms: where it was once rare for environment ministries or city planners to talk about emotions or trauma, it’s increasingly accepted that public communication about climate change must address how people feel, not just what people must do.

In practice, governments are finding innovative ways to fulfill this expanded role. Some are partnering with mental health professionals to shape outreach campaigns. Others are embedding social equity and cultural understanding into their communications, so that messages resonate with diverse communities. For example, after the devastating 2019–2020 bushfires in Australia, the government not only funded counseling services for those affected, but also coordinated clear public messaging around mental health support (8). They provided emergency hotlines, free therapy sessions, and communication guidelines emphasizing community solidarity and hope during recovery. This response recognized that official statements and resources after a disaster need to help people feel safe and supported, not just rebuild infrastructure. In Canada, public health agencies have begun to host webinars and publish guides on coping with eco-anxiety, signaling that it’s normal to feel distress about climate change and encouraging proactive coping strategies. Even at the municipal level, some city governments are working with youth councils or Indigenous leaders to ensure climate plans are communicated in ways that honor local values and histories – for instance, using storytelling and dialogue circles rather than top-down announcements.

A key part of this evolving role is culturally sensitive communication. Different communities experience climate change differently, and a one-size message does not fit all. Indigenous peoples in Canada, for instance, have a unique relationship with the land and a history of trauma from colonization. Climate communication with Indigenous communities is most effective when it respects traditional knowledge, acknowledges historical injustices, and invites Indigenous voices to lead. An illustrative example is the work of the First Nations Health Authority (FNHA) in British Columbia, which launched an Indigenous Climate Health Action Program (9). This program supports First Nations in developing climate health strategies that weave together scientific information, community values, and mental wellness. When FNHA communicates about climate hazards (like extreme heat or water shortages), they do so in a way that also speaks to cultural resilience – reminding communities of the strength drawn from elders, language, and the land itself. Similarly, communications are adapted for other equity-seeking groups: for newcomers and immigrants, messaging might connect climate action with community inclusion and emphasize resources in multiple languages; for northern remote towns, outreach might involve local radio and trusted community champions to discuss not just weather changes but also coping with uncertainty.

Transforming Youth Climate Grief into Action

One illustrative case of mental health-aware climate communication comes from a recent initiative in British Columbia, Canada, called Transforming Youth Climate Grief into Action and Hope. In early 2023, a group of two dozen young people from across B.C. embarked on an 18-month learning journey aimed at channeling their climate-related anxieties and traumas into positive community projects. This program – funded in part by the Canadian Red Cross in response to the 2017 B.C. wildfires – offers a powerful example of how acknowledging emotions and fostering supportive communication can drive engagement.

Many of the youth in the program came from communities that had been directly impacted by wildfires and smoke. They were experiencing climate grief – sadness and mourning for the forests and homes destroyed – as well as anxiety about future disasters. Traditional government messaging after the fires had focused on rebuilding and fire prevention, but largely overlooked these emotional wounds. Sensing this gap, the program’s organizers (the Tamarack Institute in partnership with community groups) designed a series of workshops and projects to explicitly address the mental health dimension of climate resilience (11).

The communication style within this program was trauma-informed and youth-led. Workshops began by “grounding youth in their unique moment and context,” allowing participants to share their climate fears, grief, anger and hopes in an open, validating environment (11). Mental health experts and Indigenous elders co-facilitated sessions on coping with eco-anxiety, using techniques like mindfulness and storytelling. Importantly, the program didn’t stop at acknowledgment; it emphasized action as an antidote to despair. Each youth was supported to develop a community-based climate project – but before jumping into solutions, they learned how to engage authentically with their communities, listen to local needs, and incorporate Indigenous ways of knowing in their approach (11). This emphasis on cultural respect ensured projects were not only environmentally impactful but also socially healing.

Over the 18 months, the youth transformed their emotions into tangible initiatives – from creating community gardens for local food security, to installing air quality monitors in remote towns to help residents cope with wildfire smoke (11). These projects, conducted with and by the community, were publicized through local media and at town hall meetings where youth presented their work. The communication around these projects was markedly hopeful: youth spokespeople shared personal stories of overcoming climate anxiety by working collectively on solutions. Media coverage highlighted phrases like “climate grief to hope” and quoted Indigenous participants on how reconnecting with the land and community was healing. In feedback, one participant noted that hearing an elected official commend their project made them feel “heard and valued” by government – a stark contrast to the alienation they previously felt. For governments, this case underlines the value of partnering with community-led, trauma-informed initiatives. By legitimizing youth feelings and supporting them in turning distress into action, the communication coming out of this program not only educated the public about climate issues, it also modeled resilience and optimism. It was a live example of how trauma-informed climate engagement can yield empowered citizens and stronger, more connected communities.

Trauma-Informed Climate Communication: What It Means

Central to this chapter – and indeed the entire guide – is the concept of trauma-informed communication in the context of climate change governance. Originally developed in public health and social services, a trauma-informed approach means operating with an understanding that people may have experienced trauma, and adjusting practices to avoid re-traumatization and to promote healing. In the climate context, trauma-informed communication acknowledges that many people are feeling genuine pain, fear, or grief related to climate change. It calls on government communicators to meet the public with empathy, understanding, and empowerment.

What does trauma-informed climate communication look like in practice? Firstly, it means being mindful of language and tone. Communications should inform without inciting panic. This involves avoiding gratuitously catastrophic language or imagery that could trigger someone who, say, lived through a harrowing flood or wildfire. As one policy expert put it, we must be cautious about using alarmist language that “may trigger fear or despair” and instead focus on information that empowers individuals and communities, fostering agency and hope (10). For example, rather than a press release that reads “Climate change will devastate our city by 2030,” a trauma-informed revision would be: “Our city faces serious climate risks, but here’s what we are doing and how you can help protect our community.” Both versions convey urgency, but the latter also conveys action and inclusion, which can reduce feelings of helplessness.

Trauma-informed communication also means validating emotions. Government representatives, in their speeches or community meetings, can acknowledge that it is normal to feel anxious, upset, or angry about climate impacts. This simple validation can help people feel seen and reduce the stigma around discussing climate-related distress. It also builds trust – the public senses that leaders “get it” on a human level. During the 2021 heat dome in Western Canada, some officials publicly recognized the event as frightening and unprecedented, and thanked citizens for their resilience, before delving into safety instructions. Such framing shows empathy for what people are going through. Similarly, after extreme events, communications often include phrases like “we know this is a stressful time, and many are feeling grief.” These acknowledgments align with trauma-informed principles of safety and trustworthiness – the audience feels that their emotional safety is being cared for, not just their physical safety.

Another aspect is offering resources and support, not just facts. Trauma-informed climate communication pairs information about climate threats with pointers to help. This might mean including the number of a mental health help line in materials about wildfire preparedness, or sharing tips for parents on talking to children about scary news. It can also mean highlighting community support networks: for instance, encouraging neighbors to check on each other during a storm, or promoting local forums where people can share their climate-related feelings and solutions. By actively connecting people to support systems, communicators reinforce a sense of collective efficacy (“we’re in this together and help is available”), which can counteract the isolation that often accompanies trauma and anxiety.

Crucially, trauma-informed communication in government is strengths-based and hopeful. This does not imply minimizing the scientific facts – honesty remains paramount – but it does mean illuminating a path forward. Communications should remind the public of what is being done (e.g., “our city has reduced emissions by X% and has plans to protect neighborhoods from flooding”) and what people can do (“simple steps you can take to stay safe and be part of climate solutions”). Emphasizing solutions and actions, no matter how small, fosters hope. Research suggests that an overdose of doom can lead to hopelessness, whereas knowledge of positive actions can inspire engagement and even alleviate some eco-anxiety (2). As one Canadian health leader observed, we should “give our children hope” by focusing on progress where it’s happening – showing that efforts are “not for nothing” – to combat the climate grief that many youth are experiencing (2). This balance of realism and optimism is a cornerstone of trauma-informed messaging.

Lastly, being culturally sensitive is integral to trauma-informed practice. This means recognizing that trauma and resilience are often filtered through culture. Communication that is effective with one cultural group might alienate another. Governments in Canada have a responsibility, for example, to work with Indigenous communities in a spirit of reconciliation and respect, especially given the intergenerational traumas those communities carry. In practical terms, a trauma-informed approach might involve co-developing climate communications with community representatives. It might mean using Indigenous languages or metaphors that resonate (speaking about “Mother Earth’s well-being” when working with certain First Nations, for instance). It also means avoiding any messaging that inadvertently blames or shames communities – for example, framing climate action as a shared journey rather than scolding individuals for their carbon footprints, which can trigger guilt and defensiveness rather than constructive action.

In summary, trauma-informed climate communication is not merely about what is said, but how it is said. It’s an approach that weaves together scientific accuracy with compassion. It seeks to minimize harm – “do no harm” is a principle borrowed from medicine that applies here – by ensuring our messages don’t inadvertently traumatize or marginalize. And it strives to maximize empowerment, by helping people cope with climate challenges emotionally while motivating them to engage practically. Governments that adopt this approach are better positioned to maintain public trust, foster community resilience, and galvanize the collective effort needed to face climate change.

Chapter Highlights

  • Effective climate communication is essential for maintaining public trust and enabling collective action.

  • Climate messaging must balance scientific accuracy with emotional sensitivity to avoid alarmism or complacency.

  • Climate change presents dual physical and mental health challenges for governments.

  • Climate-related mental distress disproportionately impacts marginalized and vulnerable communities.

  • Government roles now include trauma-informed, culturally sensitive climate communication and mental health support.

  • Trauma-informed communication validates emotions, promotes supportive resources, and fosters resilience.

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Chapter 2. Principles of Trauma-Informed Communication