Where does the climate movement go as dangers escalate, "campaigning space” is eroded, we’re exhausted and it feels like we are out of new ideas?

Four years ago…

In April 2022, I was arrested at a climate protest. In what was a month of high-profile scientific reports and stark statements about the “moral and economic madness” of wealthy countries pursuing new fossil fuels, the UK government had published an energy strategy setting out its intention to maximise the extraction of oil and gas from the North Sea. 

We met in a cafe, where I awkwardly sipped a peppermint tea, wondering whether I’d regret taking on more liquid... Once dozens of other scientists had arrived, the dimly-lit basement now pretty cramped, it was time to go.  We stopped in a quiet alleyway to distribute lab coats, placards, posters and pots of wallpaper paste, attracting some understandably puzzled stares from construction workers. Next thing I remember we were rushing up to the energy department, then pasting giant pages of and quotes from some of the most consequential scientific reports of all time onto the glass front of the building.

Eight of us superglued a hand to the glass. Why? The practical reason: to make us harder to remove, to make our protest and its message harder to ignore.  Symbolically, we were standing by the climate science the government seemed to be disregarding in its plans to allow oil companies extract “every last drop” of deadly fuel from beneath UK waters. But emotionally and personally… I did this because I felt desperate. I really didn’t know what else to do.  

“It possibly looks extreme or crazy or a bit mad.  For me this is a plan Z.  Everything else has been tried.”  said my friend Stuart, stuck to the glass next to me.  Referring to the failure of decades of scientific research, communication and advocacy to drive anywhere near enough change via the “proper channels”, his words gave a name to a film that was made about our actions that day,  Plan Z: From Lab Coats to Handcuffs.

The film

Louisa Jones’ and Vlad Morozov’s short film about that day captures it far better than I ever could in words, not just what took place but also the motivations, the emotions, the community and the care behind our actions. It’s toured the UK and film festivals across Europe since it was released. For the past year it’s also been available online (on YouTube) where thousands of people have watched it. 

I’ve been to about a dozen screenings, the most recent of which was at the British Science Festival in Southampton at the end of last month. This showing rounded off a two-year programme of events and discussions about the film, about climate protest and about scientists as activists. Each time I see the film, it takes me straight back to the surreal intensity of that day - Wednesday 13th April 2022 - one that’s etched into my memory, one that changed my life in multiple ways. So much so, that I’ve often found it pretty jarring to switch into communication mode to speak on panels immediately after it's screened. 

Throughout these two years, the questions audiences put to us after the film have consistently been: 

• about what happened next; 
• about the increasing repression of protest in the UK;
• about what we can do now at a time where climate impacts are on our doorsteps yet denial, delay, obstruction, misinformation, polarisation, fear and exhaustion stand in our way. 

So, in the rest of this post, I’ll summarise my thoughts on each of these.

What happened next

Nine of us were arrested, loaded into police vans, and taken away to spend the next 24 hours in custody*. I wrote about this part of the story in my chapter of our book Scientists on Survival: Personal Stories of Climate Action. It was… strange. Exhausting, uncomfortable, sad, isolating, revealing of a policing system fraught with prejudice†, inconsistencies and power imbalances, but also punctuated with moments of unexpected humanity. 

We were prosecuted, accused of “criminal damage” for the posters and people that had been stuck to the glass.  For what it’s worth, no damage was actually caused to the building - no trace of our action remained on those glass panels beyond our presence that day. Nonetheless, I think it was seven times in total we attended court. Even on a good day, procedures are simultaneously slow, confusing and chaotic.   Sometimes we waited around in overheating corridors only to be informed our case was no longer going to be heard that day. Scheduling conversations between court officials took hours. The CPS seemed to miss all their deadlines then would try to submit bizarre forms of ‘evidence’ last-minute. The prosecution argued that our actions were inherently ‘violent’ then showed footage and read statements that clearly demonstrated the opposite. It might have been comical were it not for the urgency of the underlying climate Emergency escalating day by day, nor for the thousands of cases - some with huge implications for the victims, defendants, families and communities involved -  waiting for their time in court.

To cut a long story short, we were all acquitted. My trial group didn’t even have to speak in our own defence after the magistrates ruled we had “no case to answer”. In my handwritten notes from court I’ve quoted one of them stating as part of the verdict that our prosecution for this protest could be viewed as “disproportionate interference with [our] rights to freedom of assembly and freedom of expression”. These rights are meant to be protected by the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) and via its incorporation into UK law via the Human Rights Act. 

The erosion of protest rights and campaigning ‘space’

As we left court for the final time in late 2022 our barrister congratulated us on our “good character remaining intact” - a distinctly lawyery way of celebrating our avoidance of any criminal convictions. But had our protest or the trial taken place today in 2026, I suspect the outcome would have been very different.

Firstly the laws have changed. Over the past four years the UK has introduced a slew of additional restrictions on protest, criminalising nonviolent tactics that have been used for centuries and imposing penalties widely described as repressive or draconian. To give just one relevant example, the 2023 Public Order Act made “locking on” - which would include attaching yourself to a building - an offence in itself in the context of a protest. It’s now punishable by up to six months in prison.  

Secondly, how the courts treat protest cases has become progressively more unpredictable, with harsher sentences and sometimes extreme restrictions on defendants becoming commonplace.  This has included:

• Legal defences disallowed. Defences based on principles such as necessity, proportionality and/or “reasonable excuse” - all of which we came prepared to argue - are often no longer available to defendants to use in similar protest cases.   
• Judges barring defendants from explaining their motivations and beliefs, or telling juries that these should be considered irrelevant. In one case, two Insulate Britain campaigners were sent to prison for contempt of court for defying a judge’s instruction not to say “climate change” or “fuel poverty”.
• Prison sentences of up to five years for activists accused of planning non-violent climate protests, and the use of remand (imprisonment before trial/conviction) becoming more common for peaceful protesters. 

There is so much more I could say (some of which I've written about elsewhere) about how our rights to protest have been eroded, including via increased use of civil injunctions, repressive bail conditions, surveillance and harassment, pre-emptive policing and arrests… the list goes on. The combination of all of these has an undeniable “chilling effect”: I regularly hear people express wanting to participate in protests but understandably staying away because they aren’t sure what is and isn’t within the law, they don’t trust how the police will behave, or they fear the consequences of being arrested - lawfully or otherwise. 

But this all just one visible component of a much more insidious stifling of peaceful activism and campaigning happening here in the UK and I’m sure far beyond it too. At a recent event that brought together a range of organisations involved in environmental and human rights advocacy, equality, anti-racism, refugee support, poverty action and more, I heard campaigners, civil servants and charity employees speak about how much harder it has become for them to work impactfully. They spoke about how funders and institutions are jumpy about supporting causes that until recently were relatively uncontroversial. Many had been targeted with threats, abuse, malicious lawsuits, or ‘weaponised admin’‡.  Media channels that were once key to amplifying their work and messages had rapidly become hellish, or just ineffective. Some have found themselves censored by managers and collaborators, or would knowingly censor themselves to avoid conflict§. All of this has happened in the space of a few years, and seems to be getting worse, fast.  

Meeting the moment?

The combination of intensifying climate breakdown with the wilful blunting of the tools we have to respond to it terrifies me. And I know I’m not alone.  Hard-won successes for the climate movement are now in danger of being - or already have been - reversed. In the UK, the government once again looks set to license new oil and gas fields.  Climate scientists’ warnings and robust dismantling of fossil fuel industry lines are falling on deaf or unwilling ears. The stakes are even higher than they were four years ago, but so too are the personal risks involved in challenging or disrupting powerful vested interests . On top of this, the capacity and effort required to do this effectively - and relatively safely - has increased significantly. 

It’s little wonder so many of us are feeling exhausted and disempowered. There are huge imbalances in power and risk, and these tend not to play out in favour of there being fairer societies and habitable Earth for them to exist upon. That balance can - and must - shift. But it can only do so if large numbers of us, especially those with comparatively more resources, influence and protection from harm, decide we have a role to play in improving our collective predicament, even if we know that the best “solutions” are no longer within reach. 

Recently, I’ve been finding tentatively-renewed energy in spaces where different people and organisations across movements and types of approach are coming together to confront this reality. And whilst I don’t have “the answer” to what needs to happen now, here are some of the insights I think I’ve gained from those discussions and from my own experiences: 

🐙 No “one thing” will “work”:  We need a diversity of complementary, creative approaches to problems as massive and complex as climate breakdown, systemic injustice and the erosion of our rights. Each of us brings different strengths, assets, constraints and vulnerabilities which will make us more or less suited to different forms of action. 

🦉 Knowing our rights and how to advocate for them is becoming increasingly essential.  Part of the “chilling effect” of repressive laws and restrictions is that it creates fear about speaking up or taking action in ways that are still within “the rules”. Knowing what those rules are and sharing that knowledge as widely as possible can help us plan our actions as safely as possible and support others to feel more confident in joining us.  Where we can confidently identify, communicate and/or challenge abuses of power, for example by police or employers, we are better equipped to protect ourselves and one another from them‖. 

 🤹 Being strategic with our capacity sometimes means doing “less”. Kind people have often cautioned me “it's a marathon not a sprint” when I’ve been in “action mode” for prolonged spells and the impacts are starting to show. For a long time this kind of advice grated, because I felt like it was undermining the urgency: “what if we need to be sprinting this particular marathon?”, I’d usually push back. But what I now understand they were trying to warn me, was that consistently exceeding your own limits can be destructive and is often at odds with sustaining effective action. It is not an easy balance to strike, but deciding not to do something that seems like it could be worthwhile can be the strategic choice, provided we are being honest with ourselves about our motivations and capacities. 

🫶 The power of community, care and collective action. Very few people have ever, or will ever, significantly change the course of our societies by themselves. Even where we have figureheads attached to great achievements, they are usually part of a much bigger ecosystem that has enabled those successes. My maybe-naive-maybe-a-bit-arrogant “lone crusades” have invariably been less effective, less sustainable and far less enjoyable than the campaigns, actions and projects I’ve worked on with others. The relationships forged in the process have been so rich and so supportive: they have sustained and informed so much of what

🐝  That I won’t regret trying, even if we don’t “succeed” in obvious ways. My friend Shana’s words in the final essay of our book are often ones I've quoted at the end of screenings and on panels. I hope it'll be clear why. 👇

* Or more - one scientist was denied bail (on spurious grounds) and spent several days in custody. 

† We were mostly treated with basic dignity by the police but we witnessed far less respectful, more aggressive treatment of others less privileged than ourselves. 

‡ This included, for example, public bodies being deluged with Freedom of Information requests designed to drain resources rather than to increase transparency and accountability genuinely in the public interest.

§ Contrary to what I‘d like to believe about myself, I realise I self-censor regularly in my work (as well as outside of it).  I really hesitated to share this post, particularly at a time where I’m actively looking for jobs/contracts, because I know organisations are increasingly wary of being perceived as “activist” (even if their stated reason for existing is to push for some form of progressive change).  In multiple projects and roles I’ve been involved in, we have (strategically?) shied away from talking directly about extremely important, relevant issues of systemic injustice, fearing that if we openly acknowledge these issues we will be immediately dismissed by influential people/groups. 

‖ For protest rights information in England and Wales, see the Green and Black Cross’s guides and trainings 

At the time writing in 2023, from my then position as a postdoctoral research scientist based in a university, I introduced the chapter and my motivations for writing it as follows:



“UK universities and research institutes have been centres of my own education and work for half my lifetime. Since 2019, I’ve tried to balance a scientific research career with communicating and acting on the warnings of climate and environmental scientists. In that time I have encountered significant resistance to the idea that scientists and their institutions can – and should – use our privileged positions to contribute to rapid systemic change. I often hear that something else is more important, it’s too difficult, or it’s somehow not our place to try. By distilling some of what I’ve learned as part of the scientist/activist community, I hope to counter some of those narratives and motivate others to embrace pushing for environmental and social justice as part of the role of 21st century scientists."



Matching Rhetoric with Action

Centres of scientific research – such as universities and research institutes – exist to generate and disseminate knowledge often with the stated aim of improving lives and societies. These institutions often pride themselves on being host to, and developers of, thousands of minds trained to understand and communicate complex problems and innovate to solve them. But is this what the scientific institutions of today are really prioritising or achieving? And are they responding effectively to the escalating threats of climate, ecological and societal breakdown?

Over recent years many institutions have made public declarations of a state of Climate Emergency and announced ambitions to be part of solutions. But how much evidence is there of these same institutions realigning their practices and priorities proportionate with emergency action? Working in a place like this you may well have seen stickers reminding you to turn equipment off, a reusable cup scheme, awards for sustainable practice on the walls. But has your daily reality noticeably changed? Is what you research and how you do so largely similar to how it was before environmental sustainability was part of the discourse? Have you and your colleagues received any training to help you understand the scale of the biospheric emergency we are part of, and what we can do about it? Are conversations about how our academic systems can/should/must respond in a rapidly changing world part of your experience at all?

How can the transformative potential of science and scientists be unlocked? Institutions’ current modes of operation tend to stifle the changes needed to do so, but it is also within their power to facilitate and nurture cultural shifts. This needs to go far beyond reminders to turn off equipment and the elimination of single-use coffee cups; true sustainability in research requires seeing the big picture and embracing commensurate systemic change in how we work and what we value. This will mean realignment of the priority areas of research and teaching, a more holistic approach to mitigating the harms caused by our activities (explored in other sections of the book) and also looking to expand our conception of the institute’s role – acting as a hub for collaboration, a resource for wider communities and a fertile ground for empowering advocates and change-makers.

Scientists’ Privilege, Power and Responsibility to Accelerate Systemic Change

At its core the job of a scientist or academic is to pursue knowledge that enables us to understand specific elements of the world we are part of. Inevitably this involves evaluating and integrating information from a range of sources and disciplines, distilling what we learn into messages and principles that can be usefully shared. As such we have much of the expertise needed to comprehend and communicate the threats that all life and societies now face. When scientists publicly sound the alarm, or otherwise act to address the biospheric crises, we can be powerful messengers and advocates because of the position of trust and/or authority that is often afforded to us. We can find that our words and actions have a wider reach and a greater resonance as scientists than they would do otherwise. We might find we have greater access to platforms of communication, and that our taking action lends legitimacy to environmental movements that can suffer from unhelpful stereotyping about who it is that cares and participates.

Scientists have been warning for decades that human actions are driving irreversible and escalating climate and biodiversity threats. Could, and should, the wider scientific community be mobilising as a result, showing solidarity with the scientists who have raised alarm, and acting on the basis of the findings of our colleagues around the world? Can we expect these warnings to be listened to if we do not? Do we have greater responsibility to do so, given our privileged position to be able to understand these complex crises and our power to contribute to systemic change? What does it mean for our own role, the impact of our work and the existence of the structures that allow us to do scientific research if we do not see the kind of transformative action that is needed to protect societies as we know them from collapse? After all, there’s “no research on a dead planet”.

Scientific Institutions as Hubs for Environmental Learning and Communication

To respond proportionately to the climate & ecological emergency, institutions must do much more than replace lightbulbs and nudge their employees to make small behavioural adjustments. By taking a more systemic view, we can see that there are many more-impactful actions open to scientific institutions (summarised in Figure 1). Institutions and their funders need to turn their attention towards what research areas they prioritise and whether those make sense in the context of the biospheric emergency. In early 2020, scientists across many disciplines were rapidly re-mobilised in response to the Covid-19 pandemic.* Can we build on that experience to support the realignment of scientific research focus, centring the pursuit of the knowledge needed for societies to mitigate and adapt to climate and ecological breakdown? Key to achieving this will be institutional support for researchers to learn about the threats we face and – informed by that knowledge – apply our skills in new areas. Institutions, many of which are publicly funded, could also be playing a much more public role in supporting societal responses. This includes opening their doors to, supporting, learning from, collaborating, communicating, and sharing resources with local communities, under-represented groups and grassroots movements. Importantly, institutes stand to hugely increase their societal impact by cultivating conditions where their members are encouraged and empowered to be visible and effective advocates for environmental education and action.

Figure 1: Actions scientific research institutes can take to enable transformative change in the age of climate and ecological breakdown.





Collective Action by Scientists Holds Unrealised Potential to Accelerate Systemic Change

As individuals subject to the specific pressures of academic research careers, pushing the structures we operate within to improve can often feel frustrating and futile. Whilst there is much we can do as individuals to challenge harmful practices, signpost better ones and lead by example with our own choices (see Figure 2), we are more effective when we organise! Joining or forming climate action groups and unions can enable us to amplify calls for systemic change whilst reducing the work required and/or risk inherent in doing so. Collective action also creates communities that are ripe for learning, connection, and support. As scientists we can play valuable roles in the wider environmental movement, providing and receiving evidence and education, acting as trusted messengers and contributing to building fairer, more resilient alternative systems. As threats to a liveable future mount rapidly, what are we waiting for?

Figure 2: Actions research scientists can take to be part of transformative change in the age of climate and ecological breakdown.”

*I was one of these scientists…within weeks of the pandemic’s spread in the UK my biologist colleagues and I found ourselves studying the SARS-CoV2 virus, designing and running testing pipelines, communicating with the public, health providers and politicians and more. This was supported – and often celebrated – by our employers, funders and government.

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 this week. Three scientist activists - Dr Charlie Gardner, Prof Jeff Waage and myself - were invited to share 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 format meant that we couldn’t examine more than a few there and then....so I’d like to take the opportunity to share some reflections here now. 

The harmful narratives

Within the walls of this 365 year old institution, with all its grandeur and prestige, it was no surprise to be met with some hostility having challenged the ‘established’ way of being a scientist through our activism. Whilst we acknowledged the value of the ‘traditional’ routes for scientists to engage with politicians and the wider public, we know that on their own they’ve been insufficient to drive the kind of change necessary to prevent the existential danger every person and every species now faces. So the question is what do we do now? How does the scientific community’s approach need to evolve and expand to inform and energise a society-wide Emergency response at a time this is so desperately needed?

I remember how deeply uncomfortable it felt years ago grappling not just with how serious a predicament humanity is in, but also with how profoundly that changed how I felt about my own achievements, priorities and ambitions especially in relation to a scientific career that formed such a strong part of my identity. So I can empathise with a broad spectrum of defensive reactions. But however charitable I try to be, the tone of some of what was levelled against scientist activism and environmental action more broadly at this event has added to my frustration and disillusionment with our institutions. 

I had expected plenty of critique about the role and perception of scientists as activists, but I was less prepared (and more alarmed) to notice the prevalence of recognisable ‘discourses of delay’: narratives leveraged - knowingly or unwittingly - as reasons not to act robustly to stave off climate, ecological and consequent societal collapse.

These included:

❌ Deflecting responsibility.

We heard politics and voting framed as the most (or potentially only) effective way to bring about change, with sweeping assertions made about the actions and priorities of the wider public e.g. that they “vote against the interests of younger people” and more generally that climate action is unpopular and thus unachievable. Even if this were true (which it isn’t*), perceived apathy and lack of care by others is no justification for replicating this ourselves, especially as scientists who are in a prime, privileged and trusted position to recognise the severity of the issues, communicate them effectively, and act constructively, bravely and creatively in response.

❌ Casting doubt on the urgent need for transformative action.

At points I really wondered whether some of the senior figures who spoke had anything close to a broad and up-to-date knowledge of the science underlying the Emergency. We heard arguments often made in favour of fossil fuel use that made me wonder whether their proponents even knew how far beyond safe limits we already are, let alone what it means for our near-term survival that heating and its impacts have accelerated and will continue to do so especially now tipping points have been crossed. Our arguments as to why we view it as is proportionate and effective for scientists to take bolder, more vigorous action were dismissed quite casually; the vibe I felt emanating from the more vocal members of the scientific establishment was dispassionate and complacent, entirely misaligned with the enormity of the danger.

❌ Emphasising potential costs of action disproportionately in the context of the hugely higher cost of continued delay. Incredibly, “intergenerational equity” was seemingly used as a reason not to pour resources into rapid decarbonisation, positioning action taken to protect future generations as incompatible with meeting the needs of people alive today. Were it not the case that a rapid worldwide transition to renewables is now considered feasible and highly cost effective, or were it not the case that energy efficiency, pollution reduction and nature restoration come with substantial health and wellbeing benefits, this still wouldn’t be a defensible position when millions are already experiencing the devastating, avoidable impacts of a lack of Emergency mitigation and adaptation.**

❌ Defeatism dressed up as realism.

Encapsulating this were the very final words from the panel: “I’m afraid Thomas Malthus was probably right”. What a choice that is from a respected figure of authority in science, to end by referencing 18th century predictions of mass starvation caused by population growth… rather than to end with a call to action that scientists try everything we [responsibly] can to intervene in today’s unfolding climate and ecological catastrophes.



A figure from my infographics deck, based on the typography established by Lamb et al. mapping the most common narratives used to delay climate action. 



As anticipated there were also plenty of criticisms of activism and activists e.g. that disruptive action is counterproductive, that by taking action using our scientist identities that we’re implying we are somehow superior etc etc, which I at least felt we were able to push back on at the time***. But in doing so we didn’t have the opportunity to give the wealth of constructive contributions and questions from the rest of the audience the airtime they deserved.

The constructive questions

I've felt heartened by the many positive and supportive interactions that were also part the event and its aftermath. These came from a broad range of representatives across science and policy, many of whom were keen to share how their own views did not align with the ones I have described here as harmful. Conversations about various experiences trying to create change within different roles, workplaces and contexts have continued throughout the week and I'm grateful for the new connections, insights and potential collaborations this has sparked. Some of the questions raised that I would have loved there to have been more discussion of at the event itself related to themes like:

🚧 How to address structural barriers to scientists participating in activism

This would have been a great opportunity to talk about the various issues affecting the science and education sector and how they might be overcome in ways that enable climate and social action as well as benefitting research and scientists themselves, drawing on the ideas such as the academic doughnut and work around how universities etc can facilitate advocacy and activism.

🛡️ How mounting attacks on, and declining trust in, science can be countered

The societal and political drivers of this are complex and something scientists are often quite naive to, but they are crucial for us to grapple with and confront. Emerging insights from scientists who have had to deal with such attacks for a long time (e.g. climate researchers, vaccine advocates etc) feel especially valuable to learn from here. 

🤳 How scientists can interface more effectively with the media and the public

News content around the Emergency has long been problematic, and as the crisis gets more severe, coverage appears to be declining in both volume and quality. Meanwhile climate misinformation on social media is surging. Debunking myths is an important skill but ‘innoculation’ against disinformation is perhaps an even more important work that scientists can be involved in too. I wrote about what I think makes effective Emergency science communication recently here, but ultimately actions speak louder than words, which is a huge part of our case that scientists be bolder and more visible as activists. 

✨ Leadership and role modelling from scientists and their institutions

This could have been an opportunity for rich discussion on how research institutes can transform to rise to the challenges of our times, and to talk about the behaviour change research on leading by example, (e.g. in low-carbon transitions). 

Photographs from the during the event (left) and afterwards with some of my favourite 'responsible science activists' (right). 



Personal Reflections

Across the breadth of the scientific community we do have common ground: we recognise climate and ecological breakdown as serious threats and that current action is insufficient. What constitutes appropriate and responsible, productive actions is nuanced and was always going to generate some disagreement…. but I was much less troubled by this than I was by what felt like a palpable lack of collective urgency and commitment to transformative action. Most concerning to me was where harmful - not to mention inaccurate, misleading and/or and unevidenced - delay narratives were coming from: the proponents of these ideas were scientists currently or previously in leadership roles within academic institutions, learned societies and/or policymaking. And they were some of the loudest, most confident and most influential voices in the room. 

I’m left questioning more deeply than ever the role of our institutions and those chosen to lead them. Most have undeniably positive intentions - my former workplace aspired to be a “University for Public Good” whilst the Royal Society positions itself as proponent of science “for the benefit of humanity”. They could be playing a key role in informing and enabling necessary, systemic changes… but as a result of embedded resistance to adapting and evolving as the world around us profoundly changes, how many are doing more harm than good? 

At the end of National Emergency Briefing in November, 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. If we want our scientific institutions’ aspirations to translate into impact, I think we should be bringing this ultimatum to their leaders too. We can’t yet rely on our institutions - nor can we afford to wait for them - to change by themselves. To unlock their potential we have to apply pressure strategically, working in collaboration with the allies we find both within and on the outside of them. And as we do this, there are so many opportunities to contribute our skills as scientists in every movement and every community that needs them.  

* Polls and studies repeatedly show that concern remains high about environmental issues, that the vast majority of the UK want stronger climate action, and that willingness to take various forms of action is widely underestimated

** To list but a few examples ”climate-related disasters forcibly displaced 250 million people globally over the past decade”, “hundreds of millions of people are unable to safely go about their daily lives at the hottest times of the year”, “costs of heatwaves, droughts, and floods across the EU in summer 2025 reached €43 billion and could climb to €126 billion by 2029”, “climate change-induced food price shocks are on the rise leading to malnutrition, political upheaval and social unrest” … with the severity and range of all such impacts escalating all the time. 

*** See Charlie’s opening address for a snapshot of the evidence for the power of social movements and disruptive protest, as well as research on the ‘radical flank’ effect. In the recording Jeff and I both respond to why we choose to identify ourselves as scientists in the course of our activism (and it's not that we think we are superior!)

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.

Emphasise agency

“Fear without agency” is often talked about as something to steer well clear of when communicating about difficult subjects: it can lead to inaction, whether through avoidance or fatalism. Doing the following can help you tip the balance away from (further) disempowerment and towards motivation:

• Match threats with responses, and emphasise co-benefits of action. This doesn’t mean you should be naively positive, nor does it mean creating a misleading sense of reassurance: we cannot “solve” the Emergency but we already know what actions are most effective in slowing, limiting and adapting to the impacts. Whilst often framed as sacrifices, these actions often come with huge advantages e.g. in health and wellbeing. 
• Highlight where/how your audience has particular strength to act. This can help to energise participants but it also guards against the enticing idea that it's somebody else’s responsibility to respond (rather than all of ours, albeit to different extents depending on our relative power, capacities, positions and privileges).
• Be aware of delaying narratives… and avoid them dominating. Whilst outright science denial is relatively rare (though appears to be making a comeback), it’s still likely you’ll receive defensive reactions from audiences who are in the process of confronting some uncomfortable realities. ‘Delay’ arguments are very common here, but none are legitimate reasons not to act. It takes some time and practice, but once you learn to recognise these it becomes much easier to respond to them compassionately and steer the focus back onto more constructive ground. 
• Actions speak louder than words, which is all the more reason to show how you and/or your communities are aligning your actions with your knowledge. This can demonstrate to your audiences that it’s both possible and empowering for us to move from passive observers to active participants. 

Highlight the power - and possibly responsibility - of your audience: This is an example of a slide I often use when talking to scientists.  Rather than just rattling through these points, it works best when I ask participants to discuss why scientists are in a strong position to accelerate action. This generates a bit of a ‘buzz’ , and they often come up with even more reasons than I have on this slide.

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. 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 blog was updated in May 2026 to include the section on agency!

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 🥼💚