Who Gets To Be An Environmentalist?

The Climate Crisis Needs More Than Experts. It Needs Everyone.

Journalists say, “In bad news for environmentalists…” as if biodiversity collapse is a niche concern. But this isn’t bad news for a few, it’s bad news for everyone. And yet, the language we use makes it sound like someone else’s problem.

I’m a senior marketer, a mother of three brilliant, chaotic kids who think the climate crisis is someone else’s problem, and a wife to a man who’s moved from petrolhead to tentatively planet-aware. I live in the middle of a divide between grassroots activists, academics, everyday people, and those who proclaim carbon neutral a load of old bollocks. And I’ve come to believe one of the biggest barriers to climate action is how we talk about it.

The Problem with “Environmentalist”

Let’s start with the words we use. Take “climate change”. Have you noticed common rebuttals start with something like… ‘the weathers always been full of extremes!’ But this isn’t about weather, it’s about risking the planets habitability. The term doesn’t reflect the stakes.

And then there’s “environmentalist.” It sounds ‘sciencey’, niche, distant. It implies expertise, abstraction, and spare time. Time to study, time to wait for data, time to care. To someone juggling work, bills, and family, it signals: this isn’t urgent for you. It says: someone else will figure it out.

It’s like calling someone a “nutritional biologist” when you’re trying to get them to eat a carrot.

Language shapes identity. And right now, our language is shaping an identity that feels exclusive, elite, and out of reach. Worse, it’s not moving people to save themselves. It’s not saying: this is your fight too. And if we don’t feel personally connected to the crisis, we won’t act.

This isn’t a rolling-eyes moment. It’s a wake-up call. A signal that something fundamental isn’t landing. And here’s the uncomfortable truth: we (activists, communicators, environmentalists) are part of the problem. We’re overwhelmed, yes. But we’re also not seeing this as something we need to fix.

We do need to fix it.

This time, it’s us who need to wake up.

Most people don’t think about climate change every day. And when they do, they often feel powerless, disconnected, or convinced it’s someone else’s problem. That’s not apathy, it’s alienation. And it’s costing us momentum.

A 2025 global study of 130,000 people across 125 countries found that 89% want more to be done to protect the climate, but they believe only 43% of others feel the same. That’s a 46-point perception gap. People care. They just don’t think others do. And when we feel alone in our concern, we’re less likely to act.

This is a crisis of ownership. Climate change is still framed as the responsibility of governments, corporations, and “the experts.” Even environmentalists fall into this trap; we protest, we petition, we demand action. But demanding action isn’t the same as taking ownership. It’s asking someone else to steer the ship.

But this planet is ours. All of ours. And if we don’t feel that, if we don’t feel like it’s ours to protect, we won’t protect it.

What the Psychology Tells Us

People act in alignment with the groups they feel part of. That’s the core of social identity theory. If the climate movement feels like an “in-group” of experts, activists, and idealists, then everyone else becomes the “out-group.” And when you’re not part of a group, you’re less likely to act in its interest.

You see this dynamic everywhere, from nationalism to neighbourhood rivalries. It’s human nature to draw lines, even when those lines are invisible. And right now, the climate movement is drawing one, without meaning to.

Here’s the thing: people don’t change because they’re told to. They change when they feel seen, invited, and empowered.

Environmental movements are full of thoughtful, conscientious people; people who quietly carry the weight of the world, who rarely ask for help, who don’t create drama. (I love you guys, by the way.) But many are quietly desperate. Desperate that not enough people are taking action. Desperate their efforts aren’t enough. Sound familiar?

This sector is full of self-reliant individuals. But climate and biodiversity restoration aren’t solo missions. They require mass participation. And that means we need language that resonates, not just with the converted, but with everyone.

A World in Crisis and a Movement Misunderstood

We are living through a time of seismic change. AI is reshaping the job market. Western economies are stagnating. Political instability is rising. The financial divide between rich and poor is widening. Corporate tax shifting is harder to pin down than my teenagers. And in the midst of all this, climate and nature are being quietly deprioritised, not because they’re unimportant, but because they’re seen as just one more item on an overwhelming to-do list.

The 2025 Global Risks Report shows that while extreme weather is ranked as the second most severe global risk, it is overshadowed by concerns like armed conflict, misinformation, and economic instability. People are in survival mode. And when you’re in survival mode, long-term planetary health feels abstract.

Here’s what climate activists see that others often don’t: every human misery - conflict, poverty, displacement - is made worse by environmental collapse. And every one of them can be softened by restoring the systems that sustain life.

Nature isn’t a side issue. It’s the foundation.

Seeing Each Other, Building Bridges

Environmentalists need to be able to see each other. Visibility builds morale, momentum. When you know others are out there, doing the work, planting the trees, showing up, you feel less alone. You feel part of something.

And here’s a powerful, underused bridge: Resourcefulness. Frugality.

It lacks glamour, but the mindset is ancient, human, survival orientated. It’s our instinct to make things last, to fix, reuse, repurpose, repair. It’s definitely a green value, but it’s shared with large swathes of the population; embedded in cultures, families, and communities across generations.

They understand limits. They understand care. And they already carry the mental map needed to grasp a finite planet.

This mindset may be a uniting force across divides; between activists and elders, between gardeners and engineers, between those who’ve known scarcity and those who’ve chosen simplicity. It’s a bridge waiting to be built.

But here’s the challenge: the very people with the most power to act may lack the mental map to understand why it matters. If you’re raised in a wealthy, disposable culture and never had to make things last, the idea of limited resources can feel abstract. Not a moral failing per se, but a gap in experience. And one we need to close.

That’s a challenge. But it’s also a call to action. Because when people see each other, really see each other, they start to believe in each other. And that’s where change begins.

Why Grassroots Matter More Than Ever

In the UK, biodiversity restoration is a colossal task, far bigger than most people realise. Councils know they can’t do it alone. Behind closed doors, there’s a quiet desperation: huge responsibilities, no budget, no resources, and little room to say so publicly. They need help. Not just from contractors or consultants, but from local organisations embedded in the land and the community.

Grassroots groups are vital. They know their terrain. They know their neighbours. They’re nimble, passionate, and deeply embedded. But they face barriers too… barriers that aren’t about capability, but about power. A desire for autonomy. Difficulty translating county-level plans into local action. Feeling excluded from top-down strategic decisions. These aren’t flaws. They’re human. And they’re solvable.

We need to stop treating grassroots organisations as delivery mechanisms and start treating them as strategic partners. Their knowledge is not anecdotal, it’s ecological intelligence. Their networks aren’t informal, they’re community infrastructure. Just because the work isn’t paid, doesn’t make it less valuable. Ironically, it’s more important, but less recognised culturally. The challenges are recognition and cohesion. It starts with seeing grassroots groups, not as helpers, but as co-architects of restoration.

Why Outrage Doesn’t Work

Here’s another insight: outrage doesn’t help us communicate.

It works when we’re speaking to other environmentalists; people who already share the emotional urgency. But to the wider public, it is alienating. It’s like talking about having children together… on a second date. Or showing up to a barbecue with a PowerPoint presentation on soil degradation.

Outrage draws a line, “us” versus “them.” And if your audience isn’t already on your side, they’ll step back. Or worse, they’ll feel judged, inadequate, powerless. At a basic level, outrage defines the problem as someone else’s fight. We’re telling them of a battle we’re having with someone else. And unless they’re emotionally invested, they’ll nod politely and back away.

We need to meet people where they are, not where we wish they were. That means building bridges, not broadcasting urgency. And it means remembering that the goal isn’t to win the argument, it’s to grow the circle.

Solutions: Language, Collaboration, Cascading

We need new words, ones that invite, empower, and unite. Not just labels, but signals of identity and belonging. Terms like Earthkeeper or Homeguard don’t just describe a role, they offer an invitation. They say: this matters, and you belong here.

Language is more than communication. It’s how we shape identity. And if we want mass participation, we need language that feels human, not hierarchical.

But words alone aren’t enough. We need collaboration - real collaboration. Not just between global NGOs, but across the entire ecosystem: grassroots groups, councils, parish networks, gardening clubs, arboreal colleges. From local to international, from hedgerow restorers to policy writers.

Right now, our communication flows look like a toddler’s spaghetti bolognese dinner; messy, tangled, and mostly one-way. We need cascading systems that flow both ways. Top-down, bottom-up, sideways. We need shared platforms, co-working spaces, and feedback loops where local insights shape national strategy.

We need to stop assuming the passionate few can carry the load alone. We need to build networks of trust, not just pipelines of funding. And we need to create a movement that speaks human, listens deeply, and acts together.

Communication Dos and Don’ts

✅ Do:

• Use language that invites identity and agency. People act when they feel seen and capable.

• Frame climate as a shared risk and a shared responsibility. Avoid framing it as someone else’s crisis.

• Highlight collaboration and community. Collective action is more motivational than individual heroism.

• Tell human local stories. Relatability builds trust and emotional investment.
  Personal details build connection. Vulnerability builds trust.

• Create space for co-creation. Invite people to shape the movement, not just join it.

• Cascade information up and down the ecosystem. Feedback loops build cohesion & trust.

❌ Don’t:

• Rely on outrage to motivate the unengaged; it alienates and reinforces emotional distance.

• Treat grassroots groups as delivery partners.

• Gatekeep strategy or messaging - shared ownership builds stronger movements.

• Speak only to the converted - the goal is to grow the circle, not reinforce it.

• Assume protest alone to recruit people – invitation is more effective than confrontation.

Final Thought

My kids might not care yet. My husband is still a petrolhead. But they’re not unreachable. They’re just not spoken to in a way that lands (consistent nagging helps, but it’s slow).

We need a movement that speaks human. One that listens and invites. We need to talk to each other, figure out our roles, and build the kind of network that can cascade, collaborate, and co-create.

The planet doesn’t need a few perfect, but immeasurably stressed environmentalists. It needs millions of imperfect protectors, who care enough to act, who know how to laugh, listen, and plant a tree without needing a certificate.