As temperatures rise and climate headlines grow more urgent, a quieter crisis is unfolding in parallel, the psychological toll of living in a collapsing world. “Eco-anxiety” has become the shorthand for a thick braid of emotions that emergence from awareness of the climate crisis, such as stress, grief, guilt, fear, and frustration. Around the world, people report climate change as a significant source of stress; large cross-national surveys have documented worry, sadness, hopelessness, and anger, with younger people disproportionately affected.

But while eco-anxiety is increasingly discussed in media and psychology circles, much of the conversation has been directed inward. We are encouraged to breathe through it, practice self-care, and reduce our carbon footprint, as though the problem is how we feel rather than what is happening.

My recent research, published in Capitalism Nature Socialism, addresses the impact of neoliberal ‘personal responsibility’ focused policy on eco-anxiety. Drawing on in-depth interviews with young adults in Aotearoa New Zealand who identified as experiencing climate-related distress. What I found was a generation acutely aware of the contradictions between individual action and systemic failure, and ‘climate change’ policy and campaigns that exacerbated their anxiety.

The Trouble with “Action is the Antidote”

You’ve probably heard the mantra ‘action is the antidote to anxiety’. But which action, and whose? When “action” is narrowed to lifestyle tweaks (shorter showers, electric cars, composting, diet changes) it can feel like rearranging deck chairs on a melting iceberg.

Participants in my study repeatedly described a sense of being targeted as the solution to a crisis they did not create. They felt blamed, guilted, and overwhelmed, especially when set against the backdrop of weak or symbolic policy responses. It’s to see how this quickly swings into climate doomism. When change feels impossible, despair can feel like the only honest response.

We’re already living through what many describe as an epidemic of loneliness, and it’s no coincidence. Neoliberal culture tells us that success, happiness, and even sustainability are individual achievements. But the more we’re told to face global problems alone, the further we drift from the connection that makes hope possible.

One participant captured it perfectly: “The government and corporations are the ones causing most of the emissions, but we’re the ones being blamed for not doing enough. It makes me angry. It makes me anxious. And I just feel alone.”

That loneliness isn’t incidental; it is the predictable outcome of an ideological frame that turns collective crises into private morality plays.

Neoliberalism’s Emotional Grammar

The cult of personal responsibility didn’t appear out of thin air. It’s part of the broader logic of neoliberalism, the same system that tells us our worth depends on productivity, and that social problems can be solved with better consumer choices.

Since the mid-1980s, New Zealand’s climate policy (like many countries) has leaned on market-centric solutions (incentives, tax tweaks, carbon trading) rather than structural regulation. In this worldview, the “responsible” environmental subject is a rational consumer who optimises choices in the marketplace, while state and corporate obligations fade into the background. For decades, governments and corporations have told us that “every small action counts.” Recycle more. Drive less. Eat green.

How many times have you heard the phrase carbon footprint? It wasn’t invented by climate scientists, it was coined by BP in the early 2000s as part of a marketing campaign. A stroke of genius, convince consumers they’re the problem, and no one asks why oil companies still rake in record profits.

Local councils have often followed suit. In Tāmaki Makaurau (Auckland,) the “Future Fit” campaign asked residents, “How large is your impact on the planet?”, pushing online carbon calculators with social media ads and billboard prompts across the city.

However well-intended, these messages carry an emotional charge. They risk deflecting attention from structural forces and ignore unequal access to “sustainable choices.” The predictable fallout is more guilt, more frustration, and, often, more anxiety.

So how do personal responsibility and eco anxiety fit together? If ‘action is the antidote’ then does taking personal action actually help? This study suggests no.

Many participants expressed anger at being made to feel personally responsible for planetary collapse. They described how campaigns like Auckland Council’s “Future Fit” left them feeling guilty and overwhelmed.

As one participant put it:

“The government and corporations are the ones causing most of the emissions, but we’re the ones being blamed for not doing enough. It makes me angry. It makes me anxious. And I just feel alone.”

The irony of local councils promoting campaigns targeting personal action, when they haven’t implemented the infrastructure to make those changes possible, was clear to participants: “It makes me angry that I’m told to drive less when my city doesn’t even have decent public transport.”

For the young people I spoke with, the expectation to “do your part” in a system that refuses to change led to feelings of helplessness and paralysis. Many were exhausted by the dissonance between their personal efforts and the scale of political inaction.

“I feel powerless,” said one participant. “Anything I do is so small it doesn’t actually matter.”

This despair is not irrational; it’s a rational response to witnessing governments, corporations, and international institutions fail to meet their own climate commitments. The anxiety here is not a symptom of apathy or internal pathology, but of systemic betrayal.

Policy and campaigns that focused on individual action exacerbated eco-distress, and spread a general sense of feeling like there was nothing one could do. These campaigns impact negatively on youth mental health, and reduce the ability to engage in actually meaningful climate action.

Rejecting Guilt, Finding Hope

Yet, amid the grief and frustration, participants also identified what helped: collective action, transparent communication, and education that emphasised shared responsibility. Seeing visible, coordinated action reduced distress and reignited hope.

One participant reflected, “It eases my distress to see and hear what is being done on a bigger scale.” Another noted that “When I go to protests or community meetings, it reminds me that I’m not alone in this. Seeing other people care just as much as I do makes a huge difference.”

The takeaway? Action only soothes anxiety when it feels meaningful, shared, and system-oriented.

Currently, the mainstream framing of eco-anxiety risks reproducing the very problem it seeks to address, by individualising what is, at heart, a collective wound. To tell people to meditate their way through climate grief while continuing to subsidise fossil fuel extraction is, as one participant said, “just irresponsible.”

If we want to support mental well-being in the face of the climate crisis, we need to stop moralising individual behaviour and start building collective capacity. That means:

• Transparent policy and education that connects personal actions to structural change.
• Greater accountability from industries and governments.
• Spaces for young people to organise, act, and be heard.

In Aotearoa and beyond, we already see what this collective transformation can look like. Groups such as 350 Aotearoa model how local organising, education, and advocacy can challenge extractive systems and hold corporations accountable. Their campaigns to end fossil fuel finance, push for divestment, and empower communities show that meaningful action is possible when responsibility is shared. Collective action like this not only drives policy change, it also restores agency and hope to those who have felt powerless in the face of systemic inertia.

While this research challenges the focus on personal responsibility, it doesn’t mean individual action isn’t important. Small lifestyle changes can still be powerful when they’re seen as part of something bigger, a way of practising the kinds of sustainable, connected ways of living we want for the future. This idea, sometimes called prefigurative politics, is about learning and modelling change together, rather than proving moral worth through personal purity. In Aotearoa, kaupapa Māori values such as kaitiakitanga (guardianship) and connection with whenua remind us that caring for the environment is about relationship, not guilt.

When young people say they feel anxious about climate change, they are not asking for better breathing exercises. They are asking for accountability, community, and collective action. 

 

Want to read more and find the references for all of these ideas? Check out Sarah Morrison’s article  “Not Just in Our Heads: Eco-Anxiety and the Politics of Responsibility” a peer-reviewed journal article published in Capitalism Nature Socialism (Taylor & Francis, 2025). Read the full article here: https://doi.org/10.1080/10455752.2025.2570513