Is Climate Change an ACE?

When my son was eight, we signed him up for a summer class that involved doing fun, investigative science experiments. For one of them, he was asked to fill up plastic water bottles with various substances and measure their buoyancy. The assignment involved learning some sobering facts about plastic bottles: how much CO2 their production contributes to air pollution, how long they stay in our landfills, and the devastating effects they have on our oceans, all of which contribute to a warmer, changing climate and the extinction of many lifeforms.

As he told me what he’d learned, his distress was palpable. I could see his brow furrowing as he peered into our kitchen, scanned the counters, and counted the plastic bottles and containers we use, despite our well-intentioned efforts to minimize our reliance on them.

That night at dinner, at his urging, the whole family talked about how we could do more to cut back on our use of plastics. But a few weeks later, on an outing to a nearby beach, his dad pulled over at a convenience store and bought himself an energy drink—in a plastic bottle—explaining he needed it for the long drive. A few days later, he brought a different plastic-bottled energy drink to the dinner table.

“You’re not driving now, Dad. Did you forget about the bottle promise?” my son asked earnestly.

“Sorry, buddy. It was a long day, and I needed some energy to finish my work.”

My kid stared at the table, his face forlorn, then quietly said, “Dad, I can make you some coffee.”

It was a sweet offer, and his dad abided by the no plastic bottle request for a while afterward. But one Saturday, as we hit the road for a weekend trip, an energy drink in a plastic bottle was back in the cupholder after a pit stop. I watched in the rearview mirror as my son caught sight of it. He leaned forward as if to say something, then slumped back in silence.

I was annoyed about my husband’s careless choice, but more than that, my heart ached for our son, who seemed to be helplessly watching his dear, funny, adventurous dad suddenly morph into a selfish and immovable adult force. If his own father wouldn’t make a minor change to help keep the earth he’d inherit healthy, how could this kid—or any of us for that matter—have any kind of sense of agency in saving the planet?

A part of me wanted to crawl into the backseat and implore my son to argue with his father. “You have a right to be angry!” I wanted to say. But another part of me understood my husband’s perspective all too well, because I slip into it more often than I’d like to admit: one person’s plastic consumption doesn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things. We can be forgiven for allowing ourselves some leeway here and there. One miniscule choice isn’t worth feeling guilty about.

Climate Change as Child Abuse

When I was growing up in Maine in the ’80s, we learned to make solar window boxes at school, to love the ocean that gave us boundless crustaceans and fish, and to treasure the pine forests that provided seemingly endless firewood for our cold winters. Back then, the threat of climate change was a distant concept, debated in the far reaches of academia and among a handful of activists, but certainly not at the local diners.

Now, even young children are aware that rising sea levels and warming waters are eroding beaches and wetlands in their coastal communities, affecting agriculture, fisheries, and tourism, and causing storms that are wiping out more and more houses. They already understand that if humans don’t act in their lifetime, these and other weather-related disasters will rapidly get worse.

But as these kids chase each other on playgrounds, navigate first relationships at school, and scroll through social media on phones they fought to acquire from their parents, is the future of their planet really among their top concerns, as some psychologists report it to be? Turns out, a recent international survey of 10,000 children and young people in Australia, Brazil, Finland, France, India, Nigeria, the Philippines, Portugal, the U.K., and the U.S., published in The Lancet, found that 84 percent of today’s kids are at least moderately worried about it, and 60 percent are extremely worried.

Within the therapy field, some researchers are suggesting that our country’s tepid response to climate disruption constitutes an adverse childhood experience (ACE) for kids. Others are calling it child abuse. Forensic psychiatrist Lise Van Susteren, an expert on the psychological effects of climate disruption, sees it as the gaslighting of an entire generation.

A coauthor of The Lancet article, Van Susteren was trained by Al Gore at The Climate Project and is cofounder of the Interfaith Moral Action on Climate, the Climate Psychiatry Alliance, and the Climate Psychology Alliance. She appeared in a viral short featuring the actor Jack Black, where she played herself, a climate expert and psychologist, helping him through his own climate fears. An expert witness for pivotal climate cases centered on psychological damages to children, she says, “As all mental health professionals understand, we need to take seriously not only incidences of abuse but the threat of them. And part of the definition of child abuse is failure to provide an environment in which a child can thrive. What’s happening on a global scale? Children are being threatened by a world in which they can’t thrive.”

Camilla Kingdon, president of the Royal College of Pediatrics and Child Health in the United Kingdom, told The Guardian that every adolescent is at grave risk from the physical and mental effects of the climate crisis: not only are today’s children more vulnerable to asthma and lifelong health issues from the air pollution contributing to climate change, but they “exhibit high levels of concern over climate change, and the mental health consequences include post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, phobias, sleep disorders, attachment disorders, and substance abuse, which can lead to problems with learning, behavior, and academic performance.”

So what can parents do if a child comes home saying, “We’re always flying places for vacations, and we learned in school that flights are the most carbon- intensive activities most people engage in, and we use a gas guzzling car. Don’t you care about the world you’re leaving us?”

Moments like these can be tricky—Don’t you want to go on fun vacations?! Don’t you want me to drive you to your friend’s house?! But Van Susteren warns that parents need to validate what their children are saying, rather than defend their own choices. An alternate response could be, “I’m going to learn more about our options, so that I can make choices I believe are good for the health of the planet and our family.”

She notes that the kids she works with often recount the many times that their concerns have been acknowledged dismissively. “They remember because it’s such a freaking cop-out,” she says. “They know they don’t have the power or money or resources to move the needle. They feel they’re being abandoned in these moments, and though they might not always tell that to their parents, they’ll say so in session. When kids see all this inaction, some of them become despondent and go to dark and cynical places, asking things like, ‘What’s the point of having an education beyond high school? The world isn’t going to be around anyway.’”

Van Susteren’s words sting as I flash on my youngest slumped in that back seat of the car, eyeing his dad’s bottled drink. I’m no Pollyanna about my own family’s carbon footprint. We fly and drive. The recycling and minor composting we do feels like the epitome of futility. There are so many ways we could be doing more that it’s hard to even know where to start. It often feels easier just to forget about the whole issue—until the next climate disaster hits the headlines.

I know that having inspiring and hopeful conversations about climate action with my kids might make the difference between my son’s slumping in the back seat and his feeling we’re handing over his childhood to a cycle of climate-related ACEs. So I’ve taken note of recent environmental wins in Maine, Colorado, Washington, and New York, where state politicians have vowed to become reliant on carbon-free energy sources over the next couple of decades. It’s news that I bring up at the dinner table.

Helping Kids Feel Heard

Here’s another story I want to share. It’s of the kids involved in last year’s breakthrough U.S. climate case, Held v Montana, for which Van Susteren created the expert plaintiff’s report. The suit was brought by young Montanans, including members of Native American tribes, who argued that their state’s existing energy policies violated their rights by not considering the impact of fossil fuel extraction—which includes the release of large amounts of the greenhouse gas CO2 into the atmosphere.

Montana is one of the nation’s biggest coal producers, and the press coverage of the fight was gripping. The children, some as young as five years old, dressed in suits and shined shoes, were paraded through crowds of supporters and detractors before arriving somber-faced in the courtroom, knowing they were being asked to do a very adult thing— because no one else was. They’d be taking the stand in front of some of the most powerful and moneyed grown-ups in their state, who were arguing that any changes to existing energy policies in Montana would have negligible effects on the greater environment and a large effect on viable jobs for citizens.

But the kids argued back, emboldened by supportive adult environmental experts and lawyers, and the fact that Montana is one of the few states in the union with a constitution that specifies the state must provide a healthy environment for its citizens. In a rare win, the court found not only that these young plaintiffs had a right to a stable climate, but the state had to implement plans to reduce further greenhouse gas emissions within its borders.

Images of the Montana kids beaming and raising their arms in the air in front of the courthouse under a particularly gorgeous blue sky crisscrossed the globe. Now, state regulators in Montana must consider climate change when deciding whether to renew or approve any projects involving fossil fuels. It’s been a watershed decision for the climate movement, a glimmer of promise for kids struggling with fears of a dying world.

Pennsylvania, Hawaii, Massachusetts, and Illinois have similar constitutional adjustments, and 13 other states are now considering green amendments to their constitutions. Although Van Susteren is heartened by the energy and ripple effect created by these young petitioners, she warns that the therapy profession needs to stay attuned to the deeply troubling toll that climate change is continuing to take on this new generation.

“It’s important to listen to where a child is in terms of climate fears,” she says. “What’s foremost on their mind? What do they envision for the future? These can be challenging conversations for parents and even therapists. But it’s helpful to say something like, ‘Based on what I’ve learned from you, I’ve come up with some plans that might address your concerns. These plans include doing X, Y, and Z.’ That way, you’re pointing out how their effort to get you more up to speed on their climate distress is yielding immediate results from you. This makes them feel empowered. And we all know in this field that the best way to treat anxiety is to show people where they can have power over it.”

In our house, the reusable water bottles lined up on the kitchen counter are a reminder of the work we’re beginning to embrace as a family. Sometimes we discuss the headlines about the increasing heatwaves affecting the country and the species of birds going extinct due to dwindling habitats—and I can see my younger son’s face scrunch up with worry. The water bottles are something he can wrap his brain around—something concrete to allay his feelings of powerlessness, especially as our family continues living our busy, privileged lives, which often involve getting through the day on certain conveniences.

Amid the daily routine of school and sports and work, my older son has taken up fishing and started bemoaning the state of the Anacostia River, one of the most contaminated watersheds in the Chesapeake Bay. He wants us to participate in the monthly river cleanup efforts organized by a local nonprofit. When he pitches this one Saturday morning, his dad looks skeptical. I can see the alternative activities scrolling through his mind: going to the pool, the soccer game, even getting the week’s grocery shopping done. My son catches this too.

“Dad,” he says, “don’t you care?”

I hold my breath for a moment, thinking back to Van Susteren’s warning about how devastated kids are when their parents don’t acknowledge and address their climate fears.

“I do care. Believe me,” he says. “But sometimes I get so overwhelmed that it’s easier not to think about it, especially when there are so many other things to worry about, like taking care of you two. But it makes sense to do this, and I think it’ll be fun.”

Our younger son is gazing at him softly from across the room. Then I see him walking with purpose into the kitchen—no trace of worry on his face, just steadiness. “And we’ll bring our water bottles,” he announces with pride.

PHOTO © HRYSHCHYSHEN SERHII