Climate change and mental health

Sometimes I think about climate change and feel a gripping fear. I might step outside to a 60-degree day in the middle of January or read an article about the worsening state of our air, land, and sea, and experience a sudden panic. I have a feeling of impending doom, lack of control, anger at decision-makers who aren’t doing enough to fix this global problem.

But that’s just me.

How does climate change affect other people’s mental health? In previous posts, I’ve written about how the way climate change is framed can affect the way people think about it — whether they think it’s a real threat and what they might be willing to do about it. This post takes acceptance of climate change as a starting point, and focuses on the psychological effects of perceived and actual effects of climate change. Once climate change is accepted or experienced as a reality, what are its impacts on mental health?

A recent study revealed two distinct responses. While some people have little anxiety, others experience substantial stress, and in some cases, depression, to their perception of the impacts of climate change. What causes different people to have such different reactions? The researchers examined the extent to which people had egoistic concern (about the effects of climate change on themselves), altruistic concern (about the effects of climate change on others, such as future generations), and biospheric concern (about nature, plants, and animals). They found that people with biospheric concern reported the highest levels of stress related to climate change, as well as the highest levels of depression.

Other reviews (1)(2) describe additional mental health conditions that, for some people, are linked to the gradual effects of climate change. These include anxiety, depression, and substance use. We can also expect climate change to negatively impact physical health — for example leading to increases in asthma, allergies, exposure to pests and toxic substances, and heat-related death, and a decrease in general fitness.

The gradual effects of climate change will continue to wear away at our mental and physical health until we address the problem.

The sudden effects of climate change are also harmful to mental health. As natural disasters become more numerous and more intense, they threaten the mental health of those who are directly affected. One project that shows these mental health impacts clearly is the The Resilience in Survivors of Katrina Project (“RISK”) Project. For this project, the researchers had already begun a longitudinal study of vulnerable women (poor single mothers in community college) in New Orleans before Hurricane Katrina hit. After the hurricane, they continued to conduct surveys and interviews of these women, which allowed them to better understand the tolls that a natural disaster can take on mental health, particularly for people who are already vulnerable.

An article on “Katrina Brain” reports what they found: 4 years after the storm, 20% of their participants still reported anxiety and depression that was higher than they had reported before the storm. A small group of participants reported even more serious mental health impacts like PTSD. The mental health impacts of storms like Katrina tend to be especially bad for people with low incomes and those without strong social supports.

Fortunately, about a third of the participants reported “post-traumatic growth,” a sign of resilience. It’s reassuring that we aren’t all completely doomed to psychological ruin when disasters hit, but it’s not consolation for the “psychological scars” that disasters like Katrina inflict on those who are directly affected and most vulnerable.

Cover photo by Dan Gold on Unsplash

The Power of Word Labels

I think a lot about how the word we use to label something affects our perceptions, conceptualizations, and actions regarding that object. Grammatical gender is one type of label that many languages employ, and in some cases, it may have a strong influence over speakers’ conceptualizations of the objects they talk about.

In one pretty classic study, Russian speakers were asked to personify the days of the week (all of which have associated genders), and participants consistently and unconsciously personified grammatically masculine days as males and feminine days as females. Although the evidence isn’t unanimous, a number of studies suggest that grammatical gender may have meaningful effects on speakers’ cognition in ways like this.

In German, “bridge” is grammatically feminine, while in Spanish, it’s masculine. Does that matter? One study (p. 70) suggests that it does: German speakers were more likely to describe a bridge as “beautiful, elegant, peaceful, pretty and slender,” while Spanish speakers tended to use the adjectives “big, dangerous, long, strong, sturdy, and towering.” This is a case in which using a gendered pronoun seems to liken bridges to humans who are similarly gendered.

Another context that draws attention to the power of word labels is the concept of functional fixedness. This is the idea that once we have an established norm for what an object does, it becomes much more difficult to think of new uses for that object. To overcome functional fixedness and increase flexible thinking, Tony McCaffrey, a researcher at UMass Amherst, has developed a method called the “generic parts technique,” which requires a person to break an object down into its component parts and name each part in a way that doesn’t imply meaning. For example, “candle” would be broken down into the parts “wax” and “string.” While “wick” implies an object that should be lit, “string” is much more general, and people are therefore more likely to think of novel and creative uses for the object than when they use its functional label. Empirically, McCaffrey has shown that this method allows participants to solve more problems that require creative insight.

Another issue that’s widely debated is whether labeling psychological illnesses might have negative effects on patients. One side is that labeling an illness results in better access to services for a patient, but the side of the argument that I’m more interested claims that having a named diagnosis might propagate the illness for the patient. For example, if a psychologist diagnoses someone with depression, he will almost certainly go straight home to Google “depression,” and WebMD will enlighten him with a number of common depressive symptoms: fatigue, feelings of worthlessness, loss of interest, overeating or loss of appetite, etc. Armed with this knowledge, it seems likely that the diagnosed person might start noticing these “symptoms” that weren’t actually present until he started looking for them, or may have been present but milder. Next thing you know, the patient stops eating and starts harboring suicidal thoughts, because isn’t that what a depressed person does? Cue vicious cycle.

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A verbal label can encourage certain behaviors, which in turn might make the label even truer than it was initially

Lissa Rankin suggests in her book Mind Over Medicine that physical diagnoses might have a similar effect. She argues that when given a troubling diagnosis, the body signals a stress response, and bodies under stress don’t have the healing capacities that healthy bodies do. Thus, regardless of the validity of the diagnosis, the patient is now in a mental state that will create physical hardship, and possibly illness, for his body.

I’m not saying that diagnoses are never valuable, or that people with diagnoses all of a sudden inflict more severe symptoms on themselves than they had in the first place. What I am saying is that maybe we should think twice before hastily slapping a diagnostic label on a person- it could be a violation of the Hippocratic oath to “first do no harm.”

Along these lines, my recent preoccupation with the introvert/extrovert dichotomy makes me wonder: could “self-diagnosing” yourself as an introvert be harmful? While it seems like a good thing in many cases- it will allow you to better understand yourself and your behavior- might it be the excuse you need to avoid group functions and hole up by yourself whenever you feel stressed? Could it be a self-fulfilling prophecy in that sense? Is that a bad thing?