09/06/2019

Changing Minds: How Do You Communicate With Climate Change Skeptics?

Phys.org - Natalie Bruzda

UNLV researcher Emma Frances Bloomfield has developed three categories that capture a range of beliefs that people hold about climate change and the environment. She says that knowing the "why" behind climate change denial can help people communicate more effectively with those who question the science behind it. Credit: Aaron Mayes/UNLV Creative Services
Warming oceans. Shrinking ice sheets. Intense rainfall events. Rising sea levels.
These indicators provide compelling that climate change is happening. But for some, skepticism has crept in, and science doesn't hold the same authority as it once did.
Emma Frances Bloomfield, an assistant professor of communication studies at UNLV, wants to know why.
"There have been many attempts by scholars to categorize climate skeptics," Bloomfield said. "A lot of people turn to a strength of denial scale, from 'I sort of deny it,' to 'I really, adamantly deny it.' Whether they're very skeptical or not very skeptical, I'm more interested in why. What is driving that skepticism at whatever level it might be?"
Some agree—and are alarmed—with the studies, assessments, and reports establishing a link between human activity and climate-warming trends. Others, however, are completely dismissive.
Knowing the "why" behind the denial can help those who are concerned about climate change communicate more effectively with those who question the science behind it. More conversations can lead to more activism and a grassroots change that develops into a larger political consciousness, Bloomfield said.
"It's not necessarily about an individual water bottle," Bloomfield said. "It's about developing environmental consciousness and raising awareness among individuals, friends, and families."
Bloomfield, therefore, has established her own scale of sorts—three categories that capture a range of beliefs that people hold about climate change and the environment. Her research, which was published recently in the book, "Communication Strategies for Engaging Climate Skeptics," focused on religious individuals, and the relationship they see with their environment.
We caught up with Bloomfield to learn about these three categories, and how her research can help people better tailor their when engaging on issues of the environment and climate change.

• What are the three categories of climate change denial that you created?
The first category we look at are the harmonizers. Harmonizers are a group that we would consider to be environmentalists. They believe that climate change is happening, they think it's important, and they marry their environmental beliefs with their faith and their faith tenets.
The other two categories are the separators and the bargainers, and they fall into the skeptical category. They don't believe in climate change for very different reasons, and they communicate that relationship very differently.
The separators see religion and the environment as oppositional, as enemies. To the separator, if you are an environmentalist, you can't be a good Christian. So they create this divide, this separation, between the two ideas.
Bargainers are also very strong, adamant deniers of climate change, but they see religion and the environment as more of a negotiated relationship. They take some bits of science and marry it with their faith, but then they ignore the parts of science that don't support their viewpoint. They would likely say that rising carbon dioxide levels are really great because that helps plant life grow. It's true—carbon dioxide does improve plant life—but only to a certain level, which we've far exceeded.
What's really undergirding the three categories is how they're interpreting their faith differently.

• What are some strategies to engage with climate change skeptics? How do the tactics differ between the groups?
My first strategy for the separators is to ask questions. Have them lead the because they'll often take you with them to the root of their skepticism. A question such as, "Where in the Bible do you turn to for guidance about the environment," might lead to the answer, "I believe that God has complete control over the Earth." The point is not necessarily to be overtly persuasive. But with your questions, you can bring them towards thinking about different opportunities or perspectives.
For the bargainers, my primary strategy is to isolate concrete examples of why environmentalism is good, based on what their frame of reference is. Work with what they already believe in, and try to find specific examples of where environmentalism fits in that frame. One bargainer, for example, was very concerned about cap and trade, and how environmental policies would affect his business. I offered examples of small businesses that had gone greener and shared studies showing how those businesses were more profitable in the long-term.
You can also trade resources with your communication partner. I had a conversation with one bargainer, and every time we spoke, we got into the habit of trading resources. They might send me a critique of a scientific article, and in turn, I would send them a news article. It's very important for people to get out of echo chambers and read multiple news sources.

• Don't start the conversation from a point of contention, Bloomfield says.
You don't want to view your dialogue partner as inferior. I think it's a problem when environmentalists or climate scientists are dismissive, or potentially patronizing to climate skeptics. I think that kind of dialogue can lead to climate skeptics feeling isolated and silenced. You may not agree with the skeptic, but you should still respect the person who holds the beliefs. We must listen, not just for a talking point to jump in on, but to understand the perspective they're coming from, and what values or identities they feel are threatened by environmentalism.
You're not likely to have conversations with pure strangers about climate change, so you probably already know a lot about the person that you're engaging with. Draw on those previous experiences—what do you already know about this person, what are their values? Go into the conversation with a knowledge-gaining mindset, rather than a persuasive goal.

• It's good to talk about climate change online and on social media—it might be even better than interpersonal communication.
If you want to engage with people through social media, it's important to set the rules for engagement. If you are prompting the conversation, set the parameters or boundaries for how you will engage them. There are many people who try to bait others, but don't take the bait. Withdraw yourself from the conversation instead.
Karin Kirk is a science journalist who does this really well on her blog. She opens questions to people and genuinely responds to them. If someone posts a modified chart that says global warming isn't happening, she'll walk them through the science behind why that chart is incorrect. Unfortunately, it can be a lot of work. But if you have these conversations on social media, instead of one-on-one, you're not only talking to one person—you're talking to everyone else who might be reading the conversation. In this way, you can have a much wider reach.
If you have conversations online, you also have time to craft your response with much more time to think about it and edit it; you don't need to respond immediately.
Strident deniers are likely not going to change their mind, so sharing information and news articles online will just bounce off of them. But sharing information about with online and communities is an opportunity to communicate with those who are in the middle.

• Why did you focus your research on the intersection of religion and the environment?
I've always been interested in the relationship between religion and science, because many scholars and many people think of them as diametrically opposed: You are either a scientist or you are religious. In a majority of my research I explore that tension: how people combine them, how people separate them, how they negotiate them.

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Good News For Climate Activists: Marching Might Work

Grist - 

Joshua Lott / AFP / Getty Images   
Do marches convince bystanders to join a movement, or do they push them away?
Sure, if you go out into the street waving a sign that says “There is no Planet B,” it feels like you’re doing something good.
But some research has suggested that you’re not bringing anybody around to your cause; in fact, loud public protests could easily backfire.
“Unfortunately, the very nature of activism leads to negative stereotyping,” wrote the authors of one study from 2013. Shouting “no blood for oil” or throwing fake blood on fur coats gets you “associated with hostile militancy and unconventionality or eccentricity.” So, uh, not great for building a mass movement.
But now there’s good news for protesters — at least those championing the environment. A new study published in the journal Frontiers in Education found that climate marches can not only boost activists’ likability, but also encourage bystanders to think we all can work together to take on the climate crisis.
Researchers surveyed nearly 600 “bystanders” before and after the March for Science and People’s Climate March, which took place one week apart in 2017. The study’s participants didn’t attend the marches, but many had heard about them through the media.
After the marches, people of different political persuasions saw the protesters as “less arrogant, less whiny, and less eccentric,” said Janet Swim, an author of the study and a professor of psychology at Penn State.
To understand the role liberal and conservative media played in swaying opinions, participants were also asked where they got their news. As you’d suspect, those who heard about the marches from liberal-leaning media sources saw the marchers in a more favorable light.
Perhaps surprisingly, people who got their news from conservative media developed stronger beliefs in collective efficacy — the idea that we can tackle climate change together.
That could be because people who watched conservative news simply didn’t know about the march before it happened, Swim said. And what better way to convince someone that we can work on climate change collectively than showing a giant group of people … coming together to protest the climate crisis.
Marches leverage our built-in tendency to follow the crowd. “The more people who are involved, the more important your message tends to seem,” Swim said.
And that sense of importance could help spur action. Marches have two main goals: inspiring other people to join your movement and getting governments to act.
So why did previous studies suggest that protests were unhelpful in convincing the general public? Swim said it might be because those studies “looked at more aggressive protests.” In contrast, bystanders might have been more sympathetic to the marchers in 2017, because many of the participants weren’t necessarily activists.
The strategy behind the Peoples Climate March, after all, was to broaden the movement beyond the usual suspects. Less Sierra Club or 350.org, more pastors and union workers.
“If you were a bystander in 2017, if you were looking at the march, you’d see people of faith, labor unions, people of color, and frontline communities,” said Paul Getsos, national director of the Peoples Climate Movement and the lead organizer for the march in 2017. “It wasn’t your typical kind of activist march.”
Alex Milan Tracy / Anadolu Agency / Getty Images
This kind of mass mobilization “counters the narrative that no one cares about climate change,” he said. “If we were just mobilizing the usual activist base, I know for a fact it wouldn’t have had the same impact.”
But does that impact last? Many worry that protests risk being one-off events and failing to inspire long-lasting political momentum.
Consider this line Michael White wrote for the Guardian before the Women’s March in 2017: “Without a clear path from march to power, the protest is destined to be an ineffective feelgood spectacle adorned with pink pussy hats.”
“To anyone who actually attended the event, the proposition that it was some casually undertaken dilettante party about hats was nuts,” writes Rebecca Traister in the book Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Women’s Anger.
She argues that thousands of women attended political trainings after the march, learning how to run for office or fight for better health care.
Similarly, the week leading up to the People’s Climate March in 2017 was filled with teach-ins, trainings, fundraisers, and lobbying sessions.
That march in particular, which focused on climate change in terms of jobs and economic investment, helped lay the groundwork for the Green New Deal, according to Getsos. “It strengthened the resolve of environmental orgs, labor unions, and communities of color to learn how to work together,” he said.
To be sure, the recent Youth Climate Strike, in which hundreds of thousands of students walked out of class to protest government inaction on climate change, has been met with condescension. U.K. Prime Minister Theresa May, for example, said the disruption “increases teachers’ workloads and wastes lesson time.”
Isabella Johnson, the lead organizer for Illinois with this year’s Youth Climate Strike, told the Chicago Tribune that some of her classmates had questioned her activism, either because they didn’t think climate change was important or because they were skeptical protests could make a difference.
“Sometimes, that just shows they feel threatened, and it proves to me that they are actually paying attention to what we’re doing,” Johnson said.
“The fact that they are getting upset shows that they are listening to what I’m saying and it brings the issue into their minds.”

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Language Matters When The Earth Is In The Midst Of A Climate Crisis

The Conversation - 

Tens of thousands of students march in Sydney, Australia in March 2019 to demand action on climate change. (Shutterstock)
In a 2015 essay, poet and novelist Margaret Atwood wrote, “It’s not climate change, it’s everything change.”
Atwood asked us back then to reconsider the term “climate change” because there is not a system — human or non-human — that will remain untouched by the impacts of climate change. Everything will be affected, and so, likely, everything (as we know it) will have to change.
The writing impressed me, and I agreed with her thesis, but somehow it wasn’t this essay that shook me up as much as another recent reading on climate change did.
The recent scientific Special Report on the impacts of 1.5C of global warming of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) concluded: “Limiting global warming to 1.5C would require rapid, far-reaching and unprecedented changes in all aspects of society.”
That’s what gave me pause: Rapid. Far-reaching. Unprecedented. All aspects of society.
Everything screamed “emergency,” even though the word wasn’t used.
I know how cautious scientists can be in their communications — I am one myself. That is precisely why those words were sufficient to evoke an emotional response.
It was this shift in language (and not the countless graphs, reports, books and scientific articles I’d read — and indeed created myself — as a global-change ecologist) that finally elicited a tipping point in my own behaviour towards mitigating climate change.

Between “cliffhanger” and “climbdown”
Recently, the Guardian updated its style guide to revise its use of the term “climate change.” The move both echoes the tones of Atwood’s essay and the seriousness of the latest IPCC report.
Climate change or climate emergency? (Shutterstock)
The newly defined climate change terms appear in the guide, right between “cliffhanger” and “climbdown.”
Climate change … is no longer considered to accurately reflect the seriousness of the situation; use climate emergency, crisis or breakdown instead.
The IPCC reports with high confidence that global warming reached approximately 1C above pre-industrial levels in 2017, and several catastrophes, indeed we could say “emergencies,” including floods, forest fires, drought and storms have been linked to this change.
Researchers have determined that media can influence policy and public understanding of the environment. Both of these things can also affect human behaviour. So the language they use is indeed important.
The Guardian wants to tell it like it is, but where did the term “climate change” come from in the first place?

New terms now old?
The study of anthropogenic climate change is quite old. Svante Arrhenius proposed the connection between fossil fuel combustion and increases in global temperature in 1896. In the late 1950s, Charles David Keeling’s measurements of atmospheric CO2 from the Mauna Koa Observatory determined the effect of human activities on the chemical composition of the global atmosphere. But widespread adoption of the term climate change is relatively new.
I was a student in the very first cohort of the Environmental Sciences Graduate Program at Western University more than 20 years ago. We learned about global warming and the greenhouse effect, both of which had become well-established facts decades earlier. But I don’t recall the term climate change ever being used in my courses and neither do some of my classmates.
NASA claims the term climate change was introduced in 1975, in an article titled “Climatic Change: Are We on the Brink of Pronounced Global Warming?” published in Science.
The article communicates the difference between the two commonly used terms: “Global warming: the increase in Earth’s average surface temperature due to rising levels of greenhouse gases. Climate change: a long-term change in the Earth’s climate, or of a region on Earth.”
Yet when my colleagues and I published our textbook Climate Change Biology in 2011, it was, to our surprise, one of the first with the term in its title in our field. With several climate change terms already in existence, it does merit some consideration as to what might be the impact of the new terms the Guardian wants to use.

Climate change poetics
Poets, who have been famously dubbed “the unacknowledged legislators of the world” by Percy Bysshe Shelley, know the power of language is not only about accuracy but also metaphorical potential.
Many poets, some of whom are discussed in the book Can Poetry Save the Earth? have been working to use language to foster change. In my 2015 found poem based on one of my climate change scientific articles, “Especially in a Time,” I refer to a need for a new word for “change” when I write: “a prolonged change is also under scrutiny.”
Projections suggest that a recent trend towards heavy rainfall and flooding will continue in parts of the United States, Canada, Europe and elsewhere. (Shutterstock)
But poetry alone, by definition, overshoots the aim to serve as specific propaganda, even for good causes, and thus we must also look to the language of other discourses to create the change we want. Certainly, politicians know the power of language when they prepare speeches.

What might emergency mean?
The past few years there has been a dramatic change in the language scientists use to communicate their science. This isn’t unusual; science could not progress without the invention of terms to communicate new discoveries precisely.
And to be fair, scientists have long referred to different kinds of change related to climate and weather in scientific papers. There’s “abrupt climate change,” “extreme events,” “acceleration” (the rate of change of change) and even “regime shifts,” which all have specific scientific definitions.
But generally speaking, scientists often refrain from using emotion-inducing language. As such, you will rarely find the term “emergency” in a scientific article about some new impact of climate change.
Consider another example of language change from the Guardian Style Guide: The term “child abuse images” is recommended over “child pornography,” “child porn” and “kiddy porn,” to avoid “a misleading and potentially trivializing impression of what is a very serious crime.” Reporters and editors are also urged to add a footnote with details about support services to stories about child sexual abuse.
And the United Nations rarely uses the term genocide, but when it does, it demands attention. This includes “naming and shaming the persecutors,” something others have said should be done for the climate crisis.
Not everyone is on board with changing “climate change” to “climate emergency.” Just this past week, my own city council voted against it in favour of the term “crisis.” Words do carry weight. One of the councillors feared that “to knowingly say emergency today, knowing that that will kick 20, 30, 40 per cent of the people in our city out of that conversation because they will not engage any more.” This councillor worried that if the general public heard this, some of them might disengage, thinking it was for the radicals, not them.
Arundhati Roy, one of my favourite writers, is wary, and indeed prescient, of how the term “emergency” may get used by those in power. She finds, especially in India and the Global South, that “increasingly the vocabulary around it is being militarized. And no doubt very soon its victims will become the ‘enemies’ in the new war without end.”
Still, as a global citizen, as a scientist and as a poet, I commend the Guardian for its change in style. The IPCC report language led me to make personal lifestyle changes (diet, car, air plane use and divestment), but the word “emergency” adopted by governments and media would certainly make me more hopeful for the kind of rapid and far-reaching and unprecedented change we need. I wonder if in the future the style guide will include a footnote with details about support services for readers to be added to future climate emergency stories.

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