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Cláudia Agostinho has been embroiled in legal battles against powerful European governments for the past eight years. Furious at their failure to protect the places and people she loves from the ravages of climate change, the young nurse, along with her siblings and cousins, launched a series of legal challenges in an attempt to hold those in power to account.

After initially targeting the European Court of Human Rights as part of a collective suing 33 countries for failing to take adequate climate action, the young activists were told their case was inadmissible because they hadn’t first gone through the Portuguese courts. Now, they have launched a new legal challenge in Portugal to push the government to strengthen its emissions targets in line with the Paris Agreement.

Agostinho told the Guardian in 2022: “I was driven to do this because of the anxiety I feel about what is happening, and what will happen if we don’t take any action. And now we are suffering again from the heat here, and I think to myself, ‘Do I want to bring children into this world if there is no good future for them?”

Agostinho is not alone. Portugal has some of the highest reported levels of climate anxiety in Europe – particularly among young people, and especially among women. A new study confirms this, finding that women in Portugal report significantly higher levels of climate anxiety than men, and are also more likely to take climate-related action.

This link between anxiety and action demonstrates a powerful truth, exemplified by Agostinho’s story. Climate anxiety is sometimes dismissed as a kind of neuroticism – something suffered by hysterical teenagers or doom-obsessed activists. Some view it as a mental health issue to be soothed or treated.

But research is increasingly confirming something many intuitively know – that climate anxiety is a normal response to a devastating crisis and can – in the right circumstances – be a force for good.

Here’s The Evidence

What does the evidence actually tell us? One new study has pulled the data together.

Clara Kühner and her colleagues reviewed 94 studies on climate anxiety, representing a total of 170,747 people from 27 countries. They assessed the strength of association between climate anxiety and over 30 different factors – including age, gender, personality traits, political orientation, environmental values, nature connectedness, perceived personal exposure to climate impacts, and belief in scientific consensus.

They found that climate anxiety is significantly more likely among those who are younger, female, politically left-leaning, more emotionally sensitive, strongly connected to nature, and deeply concerned about the future and the environment.

The research shows that although climate anxiety is negatively related to well-being, it is positively related to climate action. “It’s a double-edged sword,” Kühner tells me. “Climate anxiety may impair wellbeing. But, on the other hand, it could also serve as a driver for climate action.”

They also found that climate anxiety is conceptually different from generalized anxiety. “It’s not a clinical diagnosis,” Kühner says. “That’s really important, because climate anxiety is sometimes viewed like a disease, something pathological that has to be treated. But it’s not a disease. It’s a natural reaction to an actual threat. It’s normal. In fact, it’s strange if you don’t feel anxiety or worry regarding what is coming.”

Is there any evidence as to why women are more prone to climate anxiety than men?

“We can only offer tentative explanations because there are very few studies really looking into the mechanisms that lead to this effect. But there are some hypotheses,” Kühner says.

The first important aspect is values. Women tend to score higher on what Kühner calls biospheric values (caring about nature and the environment) and altruistic values (concern for others, including children and future generations). “Women are often more engaged in caregiving and community roles, which can heighten concern for future generations and communal well-being,” says Pinho, the author of the Portuguese study.

Then there’s vulnerability. “Women are more vulnerable to climate change and climate change’s consequences. For example, they have a lower chance of surviving a natural disaster. Also, they are more financially dependent, so they might be more influenced by climate change consequences,” says Kühner.

“In countries like Portugal,” Pinho says, “where exposure to climate risks is high, the collective lived experience of climate-related impacts amplifies public concern and sensitivity. And women are more likely to be economically vulnerable, particularly in climate-sensitive sectors like tourism, so they may face more direct threats to their livelihoods, which further exacerbates anxiety.”

The third potential explanation is that environmental behaviour is seen as feminine. Women tend to behave in a more environmentally friendly way, as I covered last month. “One direction of research has found that pro-environmental behaviour can be viewed as feminine by men,” Kühner says. “That might be why men eat more meat, for example, because they perceive it as feminine to to not eat meat. Caring about the future of the environment or other people, or admitting ‘I’m scared about this’, doesn’t fit their stereotype of what it is to be a man.”

What this means

This last point seems particularly revealing. Because environmental action is associated with care, empathy, and emotional honesty, is it perceived by some as a threat to traditional (often masculinised) notions of power and rationality?

This creates a double bind. Those who are most affected by climate change – and most attuned to its risks – are also the ones whose concerns are most easily delegitimised in some corners of the internet, press and even politicians. Their anxiety is minimised or even mocked, when in fact it may be the most rational response available, and a powerful correlate or even driver of climate action – something we sorely need more of.

So how can we counter such narratives?

“We need to repeat again and again and again that climate anxiety is not pathological, that it’s a normal reaction to an actual threat,” says Kühner. “I would worry more about someone who says, ‘I don’t care at all,’ because obviously this person has not understood what’s happening.”

This means normalising climate anxiety. If trusted public figures were honest about their own climate fears, Kühner argues, it could help shift
the social script and encourage more people across the board to acknowledge their own worries about the future – and perhaps turn that into action.

Of course, this needs to be done carefully. This means creating spaces – in schools, workplaces and beyond – where people can acknowledge their fears, understand them, and find ways to act. One project I am involved in is calling attention to the urgent need to support teachers to understand and deal with climate anxiety – so they are equipped to teach young people about the crisis in a way that allows exploration of feelings of fear, anger or doubt and provides tangible opportunities for action, whether that’s helping the school become more biodiverse or resilient, or learning about green career paths.

Kühner and her colleagues also emphasise that climate education must be thorough, emotionally-attuned, and take the problem seriously. “Interventions only focusing on increasing individual well-being, for example by avoiding the topic of climate change, are not appropriate,” they write. Instead, education should help people understand the crisis and give them tools to respond – both emotional and practical.