Reflections on an evening at the Royal Society

“Responsible science activism” was the topic of discussion at a Foundation for Science and Technology event at the Royal Society in London last night. Three scientist activists - Dr Charlie Gardner, Prof Jeff Waage and myself - were invited to the motivations behind our actions, setting out our perspectives on how the scientific community can respond effectively to the escalating Emergency and why it is vital that we do. 

The challenges, comments and questions that followed ranged from constructive, thoughtful, insightful... to troubling and harmful. Constraints of the event's format meant that we couldn’t examine or respond to more than a few there and then, so I’d like to take the opportunity to do so here now. 

***For now I have just listed the main points I’d like to respond to, and will be updating this post when I have some time to address each one***

The harmful narratives*

• Activism is largely ineffective, and in many cases “seriously counterproductive”.
• Activism undermines scientists’ credibility as well as public trust in science as a whole.
• Climate action is unpopular and if it’s not already a ‘vote winner’ then there’s not much else that can be done.
• Action to protect future generations is at odds with the needs of today's society, especially in relation to ending fossil fuel extraction. 
• If you want to make change, go into politics...with the implication that other approaches would be neither equally valid nor complementary to this. 

The constructive questions

• How do we deal with the barriers to institutional change?
• How should our approaches shift amidst mounting attacks on, and declining trust in, science?
• What can scientists do to interface with the media more effectively?
• What would leadership look like from scientists and their institutions?

Personal reflections

What I’m taking away from the discussion…

• We do have common ground: for the most part scientists recognise that climate and ecological breakdown are serious threats and that current action is insufficient. 
• But where is the sense of urgency? In the face of such imminent and existential threats, the complacency and/or apathy amongst influential scientists felt palpable, alarming and frankly depressing. The apparent lack of knowledge about the scale of the Emergency and the action needed to respond proportionately amongst prominent, senior figures is deeply concerning as is the lack of emotional connection with the reality we face. 
• I’m left questioning the role of our institutions more deeply than ever. They could be playing a key role in informing and enabling necessary, systemic changes… but as a result of their resistance to adapting and evolving as the world around us profoundly changes, how many are doing more harm than good?
• What now? At the end of National Emergency Briefing, Prof Mike Berners-Lee urged senior figures in politics to be truly honest with themselves, and to step aside if they weren’t up to the job of leading with integrity and courage in the knowledge of how much danger we are all in. Bringing this ultimatum to science’s influential people and institutions is one form of activism, and one I’m increasingly convinced is needed to enable the scientific community to fulfil our potential - and arguably our responsibility - to empower Emergency action.

*notably many-if-not-most these types of narratives came from scientists currently or previously in leadership roles within academic institutions, learned societies and/or policymaking.

Reflections on effective climate and nature communication, following the National Emergency Briefing



You might have heard or read that last month (November 2025) over 1000 influential figures across UK politics, society and culture gathered for a first of its kind National Emergency Briefing on climate and nature. Ten experts laid out the facts about the polycrisis we are in, how all of our lives will be radically reshaped by it, and the actions that will make a positive impact in response. Since June I’ve worked with the NEB team as their science adviser, which has involved collaborating on the messaging and content of the briefing, as well as working with some of the scientist speakers to increase the clarity and impact of their talks. 

The National Emergency Briefing’s expert panel, fielding questions after their talks

Academics usually aren’t taught, nor really encouraged, to communicate research findings clearly, simply and impactfully. Throughout my time in research science, I’d attend seminars with reluctance and restlessness, frustrated by the all-too-common experience of learning very little from long, excessively detailed presentations that lacked relevance for most of the (often largely disengaged) audience… So nobody is more surprised than I am that it was a lecture in 2018 that marked such a clear turning point for me. It was a Thursday afternoon in the Autumn, and all 400 of the ‘postdoc’ scientists at the medical research institute I worked at were expected to attend a talk by a guest speaker, a doctor who was talking about the connections between climate and health. This was a subject I, naively, thought I already had a decent understanding of… but I was not prepared for what I heard that afternoon, when the doctor laid bare the imminent threats to our survival. I don’t remember the statistics or the graphs, but I vividly remember the moment he said he feared his own future and felt terrified for his kids’. I remember how I felt receiving the dire news over the course of that hour and how I felt when I left the room. It changed the course of my life. 

Seven years later that same doctor, Prof Hugh Montgomery, was among the ten experts presenting the National Emergency Briefing. And seven years on, our prognosis is no less frightening… the lack of political and societal leadership - and the lack of proportionate, emergency intervention - means the picture is much bleaker. When we’ve needed to be stepping up en masse, empowering one another with knowledge, galvanizing and collaborating on society-wide action, we’ve instead had misinformation, denial, temptations to delay and very understandable, very human wishful thinking get the better of us. This has already, and will continue to, cost us all dearly. But in the words of another of the briefing’s speakers, food system expert Prof Paul Behrens: “The best time to act was yesterday, the second best time is today.”

I have enormous respect for every one of my fellow academics, science communicators and activists who have taken on the often-uncomfortable yet vital task of speaking clearly and unequivocally on the Climate & Nature Emergency. None of us have a tried-and-tested formula for it: a different audience, or even the same audience on a different day, will respond differently. However carefully we do it, there will be those who criticise us - fairly, less-than-fairly, or downright maliciously. When we probably have a lot of competing pressures and demands on us, the necessary time, energy, confidence and emotional resilience can take a lot to muster. But given the escalating state of Emergency, we can’t let the difficulty and discomfort of the task stop us. Working together, sharing our knowledge openly and supporting one another allows us to face those challenges, so in this spirit, and drawing on the recommendations I made for National Emergency Briefing, here are some of the principles I use to guide my science communication. 

Simplicity wins

There’s something I see as a troublesome myth in science communication: that using complicated words and visuals makes you seem more credible. In my book, seeing that someone has taken the time and thought to select the most important information and present it in the clearest, most compelling form they can is a much stronger signal to trust the messenger. The stakes are high here - if we overwhelm or confuse our audiences, we risk causing them to disengage at the expense of taking on board vital, consequential information. Here are some pointers:

• Be selective and concise: choose the most important messages your audience need to take away with them and focus on landing those well as opposed to packing everything you can into the time or length that’s available or most appropriate. You can always signpost sources of more information that you’ve chosen not to include. 
• Simplify graphics, statistics and technical terminology: Data! Scientists need it and we can be drawn to presenting lots of it to make our case. But overusing complex graphics or sharing a deluge of statistics in overly technical language might be the quickest ways to lose your audience. So make sure you choose data carefully, avoiding “number overload”, and make sure any graphs you do present are simple enough to be understood quickly. 
• Emphasise key messages: You can use formatting and structural tools (e.g. subtitles in articles and clear titles on slides) to do help this. Repetition can also be useful to consolidate the most important points; providing a summary of key take-aways throughout and/or at the end is often appreciated by audiences. 

Less can be more: Examples at the top are slides from the UK chief scientific advisor’s briefing to a former prime minister, and below are from Climate Central’s key facts slide deck as of November 2025. Of course different levels of detail are appropriate for different contexts and audiences, and there are situations where technical detail is important: I’ve included these to illustrate that complex information can be more immediately understandable and impactful once simplified and distilled to emphasise the core messages. 

Know your audience

It would be incredibly useful and convenient if a one-size-fits-all approach to climate & nature communication existed! But in reality each specific audience and their specific context matters a huge amount to what will be most effective. Your impact will almost always be enhanced if you take the time to:

• Tailor your approach and message to align with your audience’s context, interest and what’s most likely to resonate with them. For example, you could choose examples from their “world” to illustrate your points, and explicitly join the dots between what you’re talking about and how their priorities will be impacted. 
• Avoid assuming knowledge, because not feeling included or that you’re ‘not clever enough’ to understand* is alienating. Providing enough background and choosing phrases appropriate to those less familiar with the subject can be done without patronising or boring those who are more comfortable with it. 
• Involve the audience (where possible). For trainings or events, engagement, interest and impact are usually increased wherever if it feels like a shared, participatory experience. I often ask the audience questions, encourage them to speak with one another, and/or include activities that mix up the format.  

* Very regularly I hear workshop participants tell me that they’re ‘not good at science’ or that they don’t see themselves as very capable of understanding scientific ideas. This is often based on bad experiences at school or with poorly-pitched science communication and rarely reflects their actual abilities. 

Engage with emotion

True understanding is not just about knowledge - there is an emotional component too. We can know a fact but until we feel why that fact matters to us, we are unlikely to act on it. It can feel daunting, exposing or “unscientific” (and for many people I know “un-British” too) to bring emotion into our communication… but I’d argue strongly it’s both rational and important to do so. I’ve often asked myself how much scientists’ cultural tendency to communicate in a dispassionate, “objective” way has detracted from the urgency of our messages. However I also wouldn’t generally recommend delivering the difficult realities of our polycrisis through floods of tears, however proportionate that might be. Striking the right balance allows us to convey immediacy and severity of the Emergency without compromising our clarity and credibility. Here are some of the approaches I often use to thread this particular needle: 

• Show why this matters. Rather than simply stating what the implications are, illustrate it with something tangible to your audience. A photograph or a newspaper headline can communicate instantly what a screen full of graphs never could. Human stories are particularly powerful.
• Share how the knowledge you are sharing has impacted you such as how it’s made you feel and what it’s motivated you to do in response. If this is a step you’re wary of taking, you might consider quoting other people. 
• Consider the emotional “journey” of your audience, thinking about how they would ideally come away feeling. I have found aspects of The Work that Reconnects useful inspiration here.

Show as well as tell: Data can be “brought to life” by showing its tangible, human impacts, for example via news headlines, powerful images such as these portraits by Gideon Mendel, and quotes or stories from affected people.

Trust yourself

However many times I do it, and however thoroughly I prepare, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel properly confident standing up in front of an audience and talking about anything, let alone about something as important to “get right” as the climate and nature Emergency. But the risks of getting it not-quite-perfect are far outweighed by the risks of not finding the courage to try. I’ve found it helpful to:

• Be upfront about your knowledge and limitations: You can’t be expected to have all the answers. Communicating about your background, motivations and nerves can help build empathy and trust with your audiences. 
• Resist getting defensive or focussing on detracting narratives: When misinformation and even blatant attacks on science are becoming alarmingly normal, it can be tempting to vehemently defend your points, sometimes at the expense of communicating them clearly. My best advice would be to back yourself: lay out the science and case for proportionate action in a compelling way, then be prepared to respond to common delay narratives if they come to you. 



What now?

Your communication may be ‘done’ when the audience leaves the room, when your article is published etc… but that’s just the start of the impacts it’ll have. It can take time for people to process the experience they’ve had and what their next steps may be, and in most cases you’ll never know the ripples you create. In some situations it might not be possible or appropriate to “follow up” with audiences but in most cases there are useful things you can do to help enhance the positive impact of your work. These include:

• Providing summary resources that enable audiences to recall, consolidate and feel confident talking about what they’ve learned. 
• Sharing your sources and recommendations for deeper learning. 
• Signposting appropriate actions, support and community. This helps to guard against leaving people feeling disempowered or alone. 

I hope you find this encouraging and informative. I feel conscious that it’s imperfect and non-exhaustive… but that by my own admission that’s not a good enough reason not to share it! Please feel free to contact me if you have suggestions to improve it, or if you’d like to collaborate on future communication projects. 🌱

This year has seen some big projects and big ideas become reality. It’s also seen new collaborations and plenty of opportunities for learning and evolution. But it’s also been a turbulent year globally, personally and professionally. Here’s a quick run down of where I’ve been focussing my energy, what’s been difficult and what I’ll take from this year into next. 



The Projects

One highlight was launching our book ‘Scientists on Survival’, which coincided with touring the UK with screenings of the film Plan Z. Both the book and the film communicate the stories behind our actions as scientist-activists, sharing our personal responses rather than depending on facts, figures and graphs alone to convey the enormity and urgency of the crises facing life on Earth. 

Having stepped away from research science last year, I’ve been re-engaging with the academic world via workshops, talks and panels at universities from Edinburgh to Exeter. These have drawn on many of the themes and ideas woven into the book and film, challenging different audiences with the question of how scientists respond effectively in, as the Global Tipping Points conference described it, “a post 1.5℃, post-truth era”. 

In parallel, I’ve continued to explore the much less familiar grounds of corporate sustainability, primarily by working with AimHi Earth on updating and re-invigorating their training content. I’ve also taken on some paid campaigning roles for the first time, bringing scientific communication expertise to a range of grassroots and more professionalised organisations that aim to inform policy, activate people and empower communities. Fresh in my mind as I write this is perhaps the most consequential of those roles, collaborating and advising on the National Emergency Briefing on the climate and nature crisis. 

Amidst all these different strands of work, one constant has been my Fridays with York Community Energy, where we have been gearing up to establish our first community-owned renewable energy projects in 2026. 

Want to know more? Some of this year’s major “outputs” include...

The Challenges

Watch any news bulletin or your social media feed and you may well feel like I do - that hope is harder and harder to hold on to. Throughout this year especially I’ve struggled to make sense of a world that’s lurched further into denial instead of embracing transformations we know are needed for our own survival. And I’m terrified to see so much power in the hands of a dangerously self-serving or misguided few whilst freedoms, rights and safety are ripped away from pretty much everyone else. When we desperately need action, inspiration, compassion, community and solidarity, we’re getting yet more delay, deception, disillusionment, division and despair. Against this backdrop, it's no wonder that climate work has been more challenging than ever. These are some of the aspects I’ve been grappling with for the first time in 2025:

1) Shifting demands. Last year (2024) most of my work was sharply focussed on delivering complex information about climate and Nature in clear, accessible, engaging and (hopefully!) motivating ways. I’ve written before about why this is still so vital to do: a necessary precursor to effective actions being taken. It’s also the niche where I feel I can apply my own skills and experience most effectively. However, I find demand for this kind of work evaporating, fast. Climate and Nature have plummeted down the political agenda, sustainability is no longer seen as a priority for most businesses, and drawing proportionate media attention to the most pressing issues of our existence? Like getting blood from a stone. Where doors have been left ajar rather than closed completely, I’ve felt under increasing pressure to “tell a nicer story” or to fast forward to recommending actions - usually simple, measurable, immediate, non-transformative actions - rather than facilitating the learning that would allow organisations and leaders to make well-informed decisions and deeper, systemic shifts that will ultimately benefit them (as well as everybody else!). 

2) Precarity and power dynamics in freelance work. Without the protections of formal employment, nor the security of knowing you’ll be offered ongoing work, pushing back things like these shifting demands or raising any other concerns can feel difficult and dangerous… because it is. Being perceived as critical, negative, demanding, idealistic or emotional (all of which are something of an occupational hazard when you’re tasked with delivering uncomfortable information or campaigning for change) can end working relationships abruptly. Add to this that it’s easy, and perhaps convenient, to undervalue freelancers/contractors, with pay being just one salient aspect of this. Once you factor in all the costs, time and accountability clients pass on by not employing someone formally - think holiday and sickness allowances, pensions, insurance, equipment, software, workspace etc - paying a freelancer equivalent to an annual salary at UK living wage would mean offering a day rate of at least £300 - something that is incredibly rare to come across in climate communication.* I don’t know of anybody who does this kind of work for the money nor for an easy life - we do it because we care deeply about it. But as a consequence, I recognise I have accepted or tolerated conditions and behaviours that have undermined the foundations of my ability to do good work. This runs far deeper than the financial precarity I knew was a risk; I was not prepared for the impacts on my self-confidence, trust and safety in relationships, and physical & mental health. 

* See (for example) the methodology, calculations and guidance from the Creators Rights Alliance Freelance Day Rate Guide. In 2025, I’ve worked two single days for rates higher than £250. For a variety of reasons almost half of the work I have done this year has ended up being unpaid.

3) Generative AI. To summarise my personal resistance to embracing generative AI, I (legitimately!) fear that it’s enabling and turbocharging so many of our most destructive activities and behaviors. Naively, I hadn’t anticipated that my own work would be particularly impacted by it. But this year I have been surprised by how readily and how rapidly tools like chatGPT have been normalised, even within environmental communication and activism.* I have lost creative work to AI. I’m aware that my words have been fed to LLMs that have then been used to write like me… yet say things I wouldn’t. However ‘good’ AI models appear to be, they can’t reliably nor critically evaluate whether they’re serving up the best-available information, nor can they draw on the uniquely human experiences that allow you to carefully consider specific audiences and the nuances of what is (and isn’t) likely to resonate with them. Precisely because of how LLMs are built and trained, they’re extremely prone to reinforcing already-dominant ideas, which is a particular problem for anyone seeking to challenge those often-harmful norms and pave the way for us to create better ones together. It has felt surreal and quite demoralising to have had to advocate for the value that real humans bring to climate communication. I know that this will be something we will have to keep responding and rising to. 

* I could accidentally turn this into a long dissection of the issues around generative AI and the specific harms I am most concerned about, but for now here are just some of the environmental and ethical reasons to bear in mind when considering using it. Also, to be clear it is not my intention to judge others for using it, especially in situations where I know there has been careful consideration of whether and how to do so.

4) Communication and conflict in spaces where exhaustion, burnout and financial pressures are rife. I get to work closely with committed, caring, talented people, which is an enormous privilege and joy; almost all of my colleagues, collaborators and clients quickly become people I hold a lot of respect for, trust in and would consider friends. At the same time as being incredibly valuable, this raises the stakes when stresses or conflicts flare up. I've seen multiple once-positive relationships break down lately, some catastrophically, often without a clear reason. Where I’ve been directly involved or affected, it’s felt painful and confusing. My best explanation is that the strains of this work and of the times we live in are really starting to show themselves. The work we do can be distressing, enraging, unforgiving, isolating. Many of us have experienced repeated defeat and personal attacks in the course doing our (imperfect!) best in pursuit of a safer, fairer world… yet so many of us (myself absolutely included) have been slow to acknowledge and attend to the toll this takes. When worn-down people are trying to do difficult work together, it can create conditions for a ‘perfect storm’ (by which I mean an extremely crap storm): we place ourselves in intense, often stressful environments that demand we communicate clearly and that we take time to properly listen to and support one another… all whilst our capacity for either is compromised. Experiencing how this can play out has forced me to take stock and start to be more intentional about finding a sustainable balance between action, rest and recovery.



The Learning

It’s been a tough year. But without meaning to sound clichéd I’m grateful for all I’ve learned from it. A few things I will be taking forward with me are:

• Choosing projects carefully, prioritising balance instead of pushing further beyond my limits, seeking and contributing to supportive working environments and relationships.  
• Courage to advocate more assertively both for the value of my own work and for conditions that make continuing to do this work sustainable. 
• Remembering the power in honesty and vulnerability. Communicating through personal stories, despite initially feeling intimidating, has unlocked better, kinder conversations with a broader range of people this year.

Without meaning to sound even more clichéd I’m hugely thankful for all the people who have made this learning possible, for their wisdom, experience, support, care and love. This year I’d like to specifically acknowledge how much I’ve appreciated Caroline, Emma, Viola, Shana, Susi, Sophie, Jen, Lynn, Aaron, Rich, Kirsten, Sophia, Simon, Nick, Amy, Dom, Curly, Molly, Pete & Rob. 

Signing off for 2025 🥼💚

As we face an escalating planetary crisis in a “post-truth” era, how can scientists be most effective in informing and accelerating positive transformations?



If you’re a scientist reading this post there is a good chance that you are deeply worried about the unfolding impacts of climate and ecological breakdown. There's also a good chance that you feel a sense of powerlessness: maybe you don’t know what to do about it, or believe that nothing you do will make a difference? If this is you, you’re not alone. I know this anecdotally - scientists express these difficult feelings to me regularly - but also empirically; in an era where the scientific consensus is clear that humans are continuing to drive existential threats to our only home, scientists themselves report overwork, fear of personal and professional consequences and a perceived lack of support as major barriers to engaging in the types of action they want to be part of.* Just a few years ago, I was thinking and feeling all of the above. But now I know that these barriers to action can be overcome, and that doing so can bring us motivation, empowerment, community and hope. 

Driven by the question of what a scientist’s role could or should be in an imperrilled world where our warnings and evidence are so often ignored or dismissed, the past few years have led me to protests, to parliament, and ultimately to parting ways with a research career I truly loved (more on this here). Along the way I have learned so much from so many brave, compassionate and perceptive scientists and change-makers. In this post I’d like to share two insights this has brought me to: why scientists have so much power to make a difference, and the many ways we can use that power effectively.



The "why"...

Scientists, as well as academics more broadly, are in a strong position to accelerate transitions needed to protect nature, mitigate global heating and adapt to a changing world. Here are some of the reasons why:

• We have valuable skills in understanding, distilling and communicating complex concepts. Converting data and evidence into simpler, more usable outputs is precisely what many of us have been trained to do throughout our careers. Whatever our discipline, we can draw on these foundations in cultivating our own and others’ knowledge about climate, nature and effective Emergency action. 
• Scientists are still trusted messengers. Amidst alarming trends towards science, experts and even truth itself being undermined and dismissed, trust in scientists remains high around the world, with most agreeing that scientists should be more actively engaged and policymaking and wider society. Public trust in scientists also means that when we take action as part of environmental social movements, we can help challenge pervasive, inaccurate stereotypes about who cares and who is involved.
• Scientists can have greater public reach and access to media than many other groups do, as a result of our networks, perceived legitimacy and (in circumstances such as being a visible presence at a protest) novelty. 
• Scientist solidarity is powerful and necessary. Scientists working on climate and biodiversity have been sounding the alarm for decades, yet those warnings have not translated into proportionately urgent action. The more of us there are acting in line with the findings of the scientific community, the more likely we are to have our warnings widely heard, taken seriously and acted upon. Conversely, acting as passive bystanders risks undermining scientists' calls for necessary, transformative action. 
• We all have a personal investment in there being a habitable Earth for ourselves and future generations. Additionally, for scientists' work to make a positive difference to people and other species, there is a fundamental need to protect the climate, ecological and societal systems that make it possible: there is “no research on a dead planet”. 



Given all of these reasons (and more), do scientists have greater responsibility to push for change? Albert Einstein, whose image has come to symbolise “scientist” to many, is often quoted as saying, "Those who have the privilege to know have the duty to act". I’ve come to agree, but would add that stepping into that responsibility isn’t all ‘duty’ and sacrifice. We have so much more to gain from working together to secure the best possible version of our collective future than we all risk losing if we don’t.



How can scientists and academics respond to the Emergency? Here are just some of our tried-and-tested approaches.



...and the "how".

So what can we practically do as scientists facing this escalating Emergency? Our recent research article and accompanying piece out today in The Conversation focus on the many ways scientists can support the social movements pushing for systemic change. Participating in nonviolent protest and being a part of the communities that have formed around this has been a huge part of my own journey, and I would love to see many more scientists benefitting directly from the movements that have informed and empowered my actions to date…but I also appreciate that not everyone is equally able to or safe to participate. What’s most important at this critical moment, is that we each act in the best way we can, and that we support one another to do the same. This will look different for each of us. It’ll be affected by our strengths, our privileges, our relationships, our vulnerabilities and our restrictions. We might be best-positioned to act from within a social movement, in our local or professional communities, via our job(s), from behind a computer, out on the streets or any combination thereof. With this in mind the following is neither prescriptive nor exhaustive - simply six broad areas where we know scientists can make valuable contributions. These draw heavily on the work and ideas of my great friend Dr Charlie Gardner. 

1. Learn: We can use our skills to better understand the crises, possible interventions and the disparity between political, corporate or institutional rhetoric and the action needed to protect societies and ecosystems.
2. Communicate: We can disseminate our knowledge of the Emergency via one-to-one conversations, by leading trainings, seminars or workshops, or through traditional and social media. 
3. Influence: We can push for meaningful change and action within our workplaces, networks, organisations and democracies. This involves engaging pro-actively with people who have decision-making powers, reevaluating and challenging the ‘status quo’, and leading by example with our choices personally and professionally.
4. Activate: Social scientific evidence, as well as historical precedents, show that social movements can have great capacity to catalyse rapid transitions. There’s a huge range of strategies - from traditional campaigning to civil disobedience - where scientists’ positions, skills, expertise, credibility and networks could be invaluable.
5. Create the better alternatives: Our knowledge and technical capabilities can be applied to building the resilient, equitable and sustainable systems our times demand. This could involve shifting our professional focus and/or engaging with movements and initiatives outside of our formal roles.
6. ‘Regenerate’: The realities of the Emergency are uncomfortable, challenging and frightening. A better outlook is only possible if we collectively acknowledge this, act with compassion and support one another amidst difficult transitions, hardship, grief and uncertainty. Balance, rest, empathy, and community are essential to sustaining action. 

Writing earlier this year with an old friend and former university classmate about how algae are changing as our oceans heat and acidify, we concluded that “much like the incredible life we study, the scientific community can - and must - evolve to meet the existential challenges of our age”. We have no time to lose. 

* See Wanting to be part of change but feeling overworked and disempowered: Researchers’ perceptions of climate action in UK universities Latter et al, 2024, PLoS Climate (open access) & Climate change engagement of scientists Dablander et al, 2024, Nature Climate Change. This study is paywalled but a key finding is that the majority of scientists said they wanted to engage in climate advocacy but a minority actually did. Similarly, almost half of the surveyed scientists said they’d be willing to engage in protests and/or nonviolent civil disobedience but a much smaller minority do so in practice. 

I’ve often heard myself described as an all-or-nothing person.  I’m not sure how much I agree with that, but I’m certainly leaning into that description by doing what I’m about to do now…taking all of August off.  Properly off.  No work, no campaigning, no talks, no protests, no Zoom meetings. I’m not going on a big trip somewhere, I don’t have a big list of tasks to complete… 

So why am I doing this, taking time off without a plan? Taking time off where there is SO MUCH that needs to be done? Well, basically, I fear the consequences if I don’t… stop. 

I know I’m not the only person finding this year particularly intense or fraught or demoralising. Within the communities I’m part of I can see so many of us struggling with the weight of knowing and feeling the mounting threats of climate and ecological breakdown, especially whilst action to confront it has seemingly lost momentum. I see many struggling to bear that pain and feeling of powerlessness, amplified massively by the escalating authoritarianism, heartbreaking violence and continued repression of peaceful activism we’re witnessing. This didn’t begin in 2025 - it has been building for a long time - but I’ve felt a step change. 

Highs and lows are an inevitable part of trying to drive change, of trying to do pretty much anything worthwhile. Since I first started engaging with the climate movement in 2018, the hard bits have been tempered, held and offset by the incredible friendships, networks and communities forged within them. Knowing we face many defeats we’ve got quite good at celebrating the wins, however small. Recognising we’re up against existential threats somehow makes it easier for us to properly appreciate the stuff that really matters, especially connection with other people and the all other life there is around us. For all the many moments of despair, I’ve enjoyed access to a steady stream of warmth, encouragement, laughter, cautious hope.  But that semblance of balance has been much harder to find; years of Emergency action are now showing their strain on us. 

It can be tempting to dismiss rest as an indulgence we can’t afford. Logically, I know this doesn’t really hold up. Without rest, and without taking some care of our physical and mental health, how can we expect ourselves to be OK-enough to keep showing up? But taking a break can feel dangerous. It feels dangerous to me right now. It’s not that I think that the future of humanity, nor even of the projects close to my heart, hinges on my own immediate actions (or lack thereof) - that would be both arrogant and unrealistic. It’s hard to articulate, but I think it’s a combination of: fear that I’ll let people I love down; fear that - with all the privilege I have to be able to take action - I’m failing to fulfil a moral obligation to do as much as I possibly can; and something much more nebulous around my sense of self-worth and identity I might lose by not being fully and actively engaged in the work I’ve come see as essential.

When I really try to interrogate this, I can see that not resting, not striving for a sustainable balance has been a bigger danger, and a consistent failure. That reality has been impossible to ignore this year. In January, a spell of what I described at the time as “full blown dread”*, would probably have been more wisely interpreted as a warning … rather than an inconvenience, weakness or challenge to push through. Had I done this, and then prioritised rest / recovery / ‘regen’ in response, I suspect that a lot of the exhaustion, errors, overreactions and damage to relationships that have punctuated the months since could and would have been avoided**. It’s time to move from berating myself for this, to learning from it. It’s time for a reset. For myself but also for the people around me… and for the work we still need to do together.

“Dimensions of the Great Turning” from The Work that Reconnects, annotated with examples.

Speaking of ‘the work’, I’ve been prompted recently to revisit thinking about exactly what that is. The focus of most of my attention and energies over the past seven years have been what can be described as “holding actions”: attempting to raise understanding and intervene to prevent avoidable harms. I desperately want more people, if not most people, to be empowered to take these kinds of actions too, because that means they’re more likely to succeed and that the personal risks for people who take a stand are massively reduced. When I was first introduced to the concept of there being multiple ‘dimensions’ to the work needed to bring about systemic societal and political transformations I found it strangely threatening. Maybe I perceived the other dimensions as avenues that could be used to justify “opting out” of the types of action I (still) feel very invested in. But gradually I’ve come to understand that these are necessary complements to, rather than competitors of, “holding actions”. I’ve realised that ‘activists’ can have a tendency to only “count” these often-exhausting types of action as ‘the work’; we don’t often acknowledge the constant learning, the radical shifts in our priorities, values and approaches, the care and community we cultivate. These are valid too - essential even - and absolutely worthy of our time, attention and celebration.

In taking a break, these are thoughts and ideas I’ll probably have more space for. But if all I’ll end up doing is disrupting a pattern of imbalance and overwork, well, that’s not nothing.  Proper time with family and friends, getting outside and to wild spaces, decent-quality eating, moving and sleeping wouldn’t go amiss either.  

See you in the Autumn 🧡

* I wrote about this at the time here: https://abiperrin.com/dread-scale.html 

** Some personal positives amidst those negatives this year… for balance: we released our book, promoted a deeply personal film, coordinated a mass lobby in an attempt to bring science to politics; I’ve faced my anxieties around public speaking at universities, climate conferences and community events around the country; I’ve written and contributed to holistic, (hopefully) empowering climate and nature trainings for audiences who have real power to make a difference.