When we think of ways to fight climate change, we might come up with things like renewable energy initiatives, carbon taxes, and limited deforestation. All notable ideas, but there’s another weapon against climate change you may not have considered: conversations. 

Katherine Hayhoe is a world-renowned Canadian climate scientist based out of Texas whose new book, Saving Us: A Climate Scientist’s Case for Hope And Healing in a Divided World, has recently graced the top of my TBR pile. In my quest for further exposure to climate science resources, I noticed this book was being buzzed about online with raving reviews. Not knowing the exact premise, (I like to read dangerously) I picked up a copy from my local library and got to work. 

A subject that Katherine Hayhoe frequently brings up is her faith. This surprised me somewhat; not because I believe science and religion are mutually exclusive, but because of the way she frames her extensive work on climate change solutions as a Christian issue. Hayhoe recounts in Saving Us the many occasions she’s had to speak to diverse groups of people about climate change, including many religious, rural, and/or conservative communities. Despite the fact that her audience members are sometimes fairly opposed to the notion that climate solutions are worth pursuing, she manages to reach a lot of people. Though Saving Us also touches on several scientific concepts answering common climate change questions, I primarily view this book as a how-to guide on engaging others with the realities of our situation. So, how do you reach those skeptical about participating in climate action? Katherine Hayhoe provides simple advice: find out what you have in common with your audience. 

In the first chapter, Hayhoe managed to make me take a step back and look at the way I’ve framed the divide on climate change. She does away with a believers/deniers dichotomy to say

“I object to ‘believers’ because climate change is not, at its core, a matter of faith. I don’t ‘believe’ in science: I make up my mind based on facts and data” (7).

This sentiment struck me because of how I think the practice of a personal American identity has become increasingly divided into many sets of black and white categories. You are a climate change believer or a denier. You are a conservative or a liberal. You are the scum of the earth or you’re one of us. I am also guilty of not wishing to empathize with people who directly oppose me on the issues I consider central to my belief system, like climate change. But I still think it’s important to consider why people believe what they do in order to see if you can find common ground and explore the issue further. The American mindset has become increasingly antithetical to the practice of nuance, despite the fact that the world is far too complicated for only polarized options to support it. 

Hayhoe then describes a more detailed system of analyzing people’s feelings about climate change coined Global Warming’s Six Americas, a mile marker of human behavior created by researchers Tony Leiserowitz and Ed Maibach. It’s a spectrum grouping people into one of six categories: The Alarmed, The Concerned, The Cautious, The Disengaged, The Doubtful, and The Dismissive. If you’re reading this blog you are likely one of the Alarmed. The people sending climate scientists death threats on Twitter or posting climate change conspiracies on Facebook would be categorized as some of the Dismissive. Hayhoe goes on to talk about the psychology of Dismissives and how the presentation of facts won’t necessarily end up helping anyone. Rather, when presented with factual information threatening to their worldview, climate Dismissives will strengthen their convictions. She describes everyone’s individual worldview in the context of “frames”, structures in our minds that determine the way we see our world. And some people, Hayhoe admits, just aren’t able to be reached on the matter of climate change. She cites 7% of Americans as falling into this hardcore Dismissive category; “but the good news is that 93% of us aren’t Dismissive. They’re the ones we can have a constructive conversation with”(10).

Making a personal connection is key to convincing someone that climate change is a real threat, Katherine Hayhoe reiterates often in Saving Us. Katherine uses her faith as a common ground to discuss science with Disengaged or Doubtful audience members at some of the events she’s spoken at. Including discussing the concept of the Christian duty to be stewards of Earth, which is the very idea Hayhoe cites as her first reason for becoming a climate scientist. This is a wonderful example of being a genuine reflection of oft-preached Christian values, however I’m not religious in the slightest. You might not be either. So what else can we relate to? Hayhoe gives us a few examples. Perhaps connect to someone over a mutual coffee or chocolate connoisseurship, as both of these crops are being threatened by warmer temperatures and differing rainfall patterns. Can you connect over skiing or snowboarding? Because warmer and warmer winters are closing the windows in which winter sports are possible. Whatever you talk about, it’s important to highlight how the issue is local, current, and affecting the individual. Distant danger won’t seem dangerous until it’s too late. And skeptics cannot justify the limitations they believe climate solutions will place on them (like state-mandated veganism or a swift end to gas-powered cars) if they are not convinced that the threats of climate change are worse than the solutions. So comment on the changes that your audience will notice, like threats to specific important plants, hobbies, or their own values. Or perhaps for my fellow Arizonans, a comment about how our familiar dry heat is only getting hotter. 

A discussion of the spectrum of human emotion is also central to Saving Us. Hayhoe covers anger, fear, shame and guilt among other feelings. I find eco-guilt to be a particularly fascinating topic as it can be both limiting and accelerating, both a catalyst to improve individual responsibility and a painful misinterpretation of the blame. Hayhoe discusses a passage from Mary Annaïse Heglar’s 2019 Vox article “I Work in the Environmental Movement. I Don’t Care If You Recycle”, which covers the phenomenon of everyday people approaching her to confess their “sins”. But Heglar disagrees with the notion that we are all to blame, writing:

“the belief that this enormous, existential problem could have been fixed if all of us had just tweaked our consumptive habits is not only preposterous; it’s dangerous ... [climate-concerned individuals] are carrying the guilt of the oil and gas industry’s crimes. The weight of our sickly planet is too much for any one person to shoulder” (79).

Hayhoe follows up this reference with an anecdote of a talk she gave to the leadership team of a large oil and gas company. She describes the difficulty of finding something to relate to, but eventually started her talk with a statement she believed:

“I am truly grateful for fossil fuels” (80).

And she does have a point. Fossil fuel production is one of the biggest threats to the planet, it’s not something we can sustain indefinitely, and the corruption from these massive corporations runs as deep and dirty as oil wells themselves. But fossil fuels have done a service to humanity even I can’t deny. The oil execs that Hayhoe spoke to were happy to hear that yes! She gets it! They provide the energy we all need. But she doesn’t hesitate to display the problem at hand:

“We need energy in the future, too. The question is, how are we going to get it?” (81). 

Katherine Hayhoe walks readers through a thorough list of climate change misconceptions and the pros and cons of popular solutions. I have found her way of explaining things to be informative and easy to absorb. One misconception I was especially happy to find in Saving Us is the thing I’ve heard many, many, times: overpopulation is the real problem. I’ve always had a problem with this idea because it is usually discussed with some amount of patronizing, colonialist undertones. Wealthier industrialized nations like the U.S. have far lower birth rates than many developing countries, which in many ways is a good thing (despite what current American politics might have to say about women not fulfilling their duties as unthinking incubators, but I digress). High birth rates are usually a sign that women are suffering. Poverty, patriarchy, a lack of education and resources – those are the things which contribute to the number of children women end up having. To ever suggest that population control of certain communities (and not others) is a necessary step to combat climate change is not only factually incorrect, but ethically immoral. Katherine Hayhoe puts it quite succinctly:

“So while it’s tempting for male theorists in rich countries with low birth rates to lean back in the armchair of life and opine on such issues, the reality of a woman’s life, particularly in low income countries with the highest population growth, is very different. It’s not about giving women fewer choices; it’s giving them more” (147). 

And if we’re going to cast aside any morals for a moment here, population control still wouldn’t do what we need it to. Betsy Hartman, author of Reproductive Rights and Wrongs: The Global Politics of Population Control, illustrates the point that

“overconsumption by the rich has far more to do with climate change than the population growth of the poor” (147).

BBC’s excellent podcast, The Climate Question, elaborates on this issue in an episode titled “The Secret Solution to Climate Change”. They cover how the education and empowerment of young women has a notably positive effect on the climate. We know that the wealthiest nations contribute vastly more to global emissions than poorer ones, despite differing birth rates. When will we hold the wealthiest and most wasteful people on Earth to the same standard we are holding impoverished mothers? 

But despite the doom and gloom climate news brings us, or the anger and resentment we may feel knowing that consumer changes alone are not enough to solve the climate crisis, Katherine Hayhoe maintains the notion that what we all do as individuals matters immensely. Having meaningful, genuine, and strategic conversations about climate change is the most important thing we can all do. I have often thought I was not doing enough or that I didn’t know enough to talk about climate change. After all, the last thing anyone wants to be is a hypocrite and I am a person who drives a gas-powered car and uses plastic products daily, among other eco “sins”. But doing something is always better than nothing. And to do something as immense as ensuring our world stays inhabitable for the future of the human race? It’s going to take all of us. 

If you couldn’t tell my feelings already, Saving Us is an encouraging and eye-opening read that I highly recommend you find at your local indie bookstore or library.

Happy Reading!

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