Climate change takes a toll on our minds, too
global warming |
We often think about the impact of climate change in physical terms – extreme weather, species extinction, and the destruction of habitat. But what about the emotional toll it takes on us?
Psychologist Susie Burke tells the story of a woman who came to her for counselling after having her first child. Not because she was suffering from post-natal depression, but because she was "struggling with the enormity of what she had done." She felt she had brought her child into a "world she knew was going to be a lot harsher and a lot less safe," Burke told DW.
"She came to me when she was overwhelmed by this distress; questioning whether she had done the right thing. The fear she had for his future was really huge."
Burke is an Australian psychologist and academic who specializes in eco-psychology. She treats people suffering mental illness as a result of climate change, and also recently set up a free hotline called the "Climate Change Psychological Support Network," where Australians can call a qualified psychologist to talk through their feelings about environmental change.
"One of the very first things people need to do to engage properly with climate change is to acknowledge how they feel about it and talk about it," Burke said.
Eco-anxiety, grief and guilt
A sense of pervasive loss, devastation and change are endemic to a world afflicted by climate change. Polar ice caps are melting, many animal species are going extinct; the weather is unpredictable and often extreme.
We are increasingly aware of the impacts these changes are having on our physiological health - whether it be as stark as death and injury from extreme weather events, or more insidious harm from the worsening quality of water, air and food.
But as the emerging field of eco-psychology is revealing, climate change is taking a significant toll on our mental health too.
Read more: Climate change threatens crop nutrition, puts millions at risk
"For people who are hearing and paying attention to what is happening to the climate, it is a huge weight and anxiety and fear," Burke said.
Having worked in the field for nearly a decade, the psychologist describes observing people with "anxiety and depression, flat moods, helplessness and hopelessness, and anger," as well as "guilt and shame."
She said this latter feeling is common among people who might not have endured direct trauma and loss as a result of climate change, but who experience vicarious distress and are conscious of their part in the problem.
"They're aware these things are happening and it's not directly impacting them, but they know it's going to have a bigger impact on their children in the future or people in other parts of the world."
Climate change differs from other global problems in that most people can relate their own behaviour to it, Burke added, in terms of causing CO2 emissions: "We can't do that with other big global problems like genocide and conflict in the Middle East."
Read more: How can cities adapt to a hotter climate?
A little-known problem
Although it might seem self-evident that extreme changes resonate with people on an emotional level, it is not something often talked about.
The health of millions of people around the world is already being compromised by global warming. Scientists are now saying it is the major threat of the 21st century. But there is little emphasis on mental health.
“It’s a huge gap in the literature,” Ashlee Cunsolo, researcher and director of an institute geared toward sustaining Indigenous culture in Labrador, Canada, told DW.
In order for the globe to comprehensively tackle the health challenges that are arising out of climate change, Cunsolo argues that the mental health dimension of the problem must inform policymaking. This, she said, requires "a mass system-wide societal shift" in how climate change is thought about and what the potential long term impacts might be.
The United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change includes a section that details the loss and damages from climate change. Consolo notes that it intitially conceptualised loss and damage in terms of "infrastructure and the market" when it was written in the 1990s. But now it has been adjusted to account for "intangible losses," such as "cultural knowledge, language, and place," she said.
Read more: The frozen tears of New Zealand's melting glaciers
Inuit on thin ice
Cunsolo first observed this aspect of climate change while working in public health in Eastern Canada with Inuit populations indigenous to the area. After having witnessed rapid changes in their environment – such as melting sea ice and unpredictable weather - these communities, Cunsolo said, expressed a profound sense of "grief associated with loss of place, loss of sea ice, loss of livelihoods."
It was this research that prompted Cunsolo and her colleague, Neville Ellis, who works closely with farmers suffering drought in Western Australia, to create a new category of emotional trauma called "ecological grief." Cunsolo describes this as "the responding mental and emotional pain, stress and sadness” that arises from environmental change.
"The word 'Inuit' literally means 'people of the sea ice' – so this is a very deep, existential questioning of humanity", the researcher said." People are really having their foundations impacted by these changes."
Although climate scientists are warning that a 1 to 2 degree Celsius temperature increase globally will have devastating effects around the globe – even making some parts of the world inhospitable – evidence has shown that Laborador has already surpassed this threshold and is instead looking at a temperature increase of 6 to 8 degrees Celsius.
The unprecedented loss of sea ice that has already occurred has had an enormous impact on the Inuit communities' ability to hunt, travel, and practise their culture, Cunsolo said. "There's a lot of concern for what it means for the future – a lot of anticipatory grief."
But it isn’t only those in the front line of environmental change who experience profound emotional responses and mental health impacts. For many people it is daunting to grasp the full implications of climate change, including coming to terms with their own role in it and how they can help as individuals.
Whether or not people are experiencing or observing firsthand rapid environmental changes, Cunsolo speaks of a "pervasive sense of dread and doom and anxiety."
"I think ecological grief has emerged most prominently from people at the frontline, but I don’t think we can say with certainty that they're experiencing it more than others." Often, she added, people who don’t bear the burden of global warming's direct impacts, feel a sense of guilt that they're "stuck in a system that perpetuates climate change, but [they] can't get out of it."
Many people become depressed and immobile, or "rationalize the problem away," according to Burke.
For this reason, the psychologist has authored a handy guide - 'The Climate Change Empowerment Handbook' which, she says, is designed to help people to see how they can effectively engage with the problem on a day-to-day basis.
"What we can't afford is for people to give up," Burke said. "It's too big a problem. There is still time to turn the tide. We just need to have the will to do it - and the will comes from the people."
Once, only explorers in search of adventure or scientific discovery braved the icy heart of the Arctic. But the ice is vanishing. August 29, 2008 marked a turning point: For the first time, merchant ships could navigate both the Northeast Passage and Northwest Passage, without icebreakers. This ship-friendly period in summer has been getting longer and longer ever since.
The 6,500-kilometer-long (4,000-mile) Northeast Passage leads from Asia, past Russia and Norway, and connects the Atlantic with the Pacific Ocean. The slightly shorter Northwest Passage runs past Canada toward New York. Both routes cross the Bering Strait and the Arctic Ocean. This is only possible if ice cover does not block the way.
To get from Rotterdam to Tokyo, ships currently pass India and go through the Suez Canal in Egypt. That's about 6,000 kilometers longer than the route through the Northeast Passage. Ships travel to the US East Coast from Asia via the Pacific and through the Panama Canal. Here, too, taking the Northwest Passage cuts over 4,000 kilometers off the journey.
In 2009, the Bremen-based Beluga shipping company sent two German heavy-lift carriers through the Northeast Passage for the first time. Since then, shipping traffic in the region has increased. Still, Burkhard Lemper of the Institute of Shipping Economics and Logistics in Bremen says the Arctic Ocean is not (yet) heavily frequented — if only because the route is only open at certain times of year.
No climate scientist can say for sure how global warming will progress around the North Pole. But, "Everyone agrees the Arctic will be ice-free within the next 30 to 50 years," says sea-ice expert Christian Haas of the Alfred Wegener Institute in Bremerhaven, Germany. Researchers describe the Arctic as ice-free when ice cover falls below 1 million square kilometers in summer.
Biologists fear for the unique wildlife in the Arctic as shipping traffic increases. Beluga whales, Greenland whales and walruses, for example, could be a risk, US researchers say in a study published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. They studied 80 populations of marine mammals and found that more than half are resident along the Northeast or Northwest Passage.
Scientists fear that narwhals in particular could suffer from shipping traffic in the Arctic Ocean. The marine mammals stay close to coastal pack ice. The males are easily recognizable by their helical tusk, which can become up to three meters long. This is a life-size replica in the Ozeanum Oceanographic Museum in Stralsund, Germany.
Researchers and environmentalists are calling for guidelines on Arctic shipping. For example, ships should avoid the whales' main hunting grounds, fit sailing schedules around their migration, and keep noise and speed in check. "This does not yet exist in the Arctic — that's the big difference from Antarctica," Greenpeace biologist Christian Bussau says.
According to Greenpeace expert Bussau, only 50 ships pass through the Northeast and Northwest Passage each year. The German Shipowners' Association says the figure is in the double-digit range. But Bussau says time is of the essence: "In the long run, there will be a lot going on in the Arctic." So far, there are no environmental regulations for shipping in the region.