Silver Linings: Finding Hope in the Climate Crisis

Caring about the world can be painful and exhausting. But you don't need me to tell you that, right?

When you’re tuned in to the suffering of the Earth and its people, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. The more you learn about ecological breakdown and violent conflict, the harder it can be to hold on to hope. Maybe you’ve felt it. That creeping sense that nothing we do will be enough. That people are too selfish, too stuck, too far gone.

I know that feeling well. There was a time when I genuinely believed that people were inherently selfish. Looking around at the actions of other people, I lost all hope in the climate crisis. Not in a passing moment of frustration, but in a deep, lasting way. I couldn’t see the point in trying anymore. I disconnected from others. It felt easier to shut down than to keep caring about the earth.

But something shifted. I slowly began to notice the quiet goodness all around me. Acts of kindness and care, however small, started to soften the edges of my despair. And I realised: we all have seeds of both cruelty and compassion in us. Of despair and hope. Of selfishness and generosity. What matters is which ones we water, in ourselves and in others. We can choose, with our actions and words, to water good seeds in people. But only if we connect with one another, and give each other a little grace.

And this isn't just about "peace and love". (Even if the world could obviously do with more of both those things.) It's about cultivating goodness in ourselves and other people, so that we are a kinder collective society that has enough hope and happiness to do the hard work that our climate and biodiversity so desperately need.

Which wolf do we feed?

You can also think of it like this. A child is told that two wolves live inside each of us—one representing anger, envy, and greed; the other, kindness, humility, and love. “Which one wins?” the child asks. The answer: “The one you feed.”

This story is often attributed to the Cherokee people in North America. But we do like to attribute wise-sounding stories to Buddha, Gandhi or indigenous people in the West, and some Native American tribes have said this is a modern parable. So take the origin with a pinch of salt, but the message still stands.

Which wolf are we going to feed? The one that lives in darkness, or the one that lives in light? This is where silver linings come in. We have to train ourselves to see silver linings everywhere, even in the most horrific situations. We have to do this to keep hope alive in us and our communities, because once hope is gone, so is any motivation to contribute to a better world.

It's not about toxic positivity or denying very real injustice and suffering. It's about having enough inner strength to seek out and move towards a reason to keep fighting. No matter how dire things might seem.

You are not alone

Before we go on, can I take a moment to reassure you that you are not alone. If you feel overwhelmed by climate grief, if the headlines are too much, if you're tired of feeling like your efforts are a drop in the ocean, I see you. It's not wrong to feel the weight of suffering. There is real pain, destruction, and injustice in the world.

But I want to offer you this: there is also real beauty. Real healing. Real progress. And just because the pain is real doesn't mean the beauty isn’t. It's normal to find hope and positivity difficult in the face of huge challenges. We actually have to rewire our brains to make it possible.

The science of seeing silver linings

The human brain is wired to pay more attention to danger than to peace. It’s called negativity bias, and it helped our ancestors survive. It's actually quite useful to assume that movement in the long grass is a bloodthirsty lion instead of a harmless hedgehog. By subconsciously assuming a situation is negative, feeling adrenaline, and moving away quikly - we protect ourselves. Sometimes it was just a hedgehog. But for all the times a predator was looming, we didn't waste time looking closer and formally identifying a lion before getting to a safe place. It makes sense.

But today, most of us don't need a negativity bias. In war zones and in disaster situations it can still be really helpful. But for a slow-burning threat like climate change, biodiversity loss, potential future destabilisation of society due to lack of resources... these kinds of looming dangers that aren't quite concrete for most of us aren't well matched to our tendency to assume the worst. When we need to take long-term, sustainable action to make our communities safer and healthier, the negativity bias can actually drag us down and get in the way. This can be compounded by confirmatory bias.

Confirmatory bias means we tend to notice things that support what we already believe. If you believe that people are cruel and the world is doomed, you'll notice proof of that everywhere. But if you train yourself to believe there is good, you'll begin to notice that everywhere, too.

Let me be clear: hope isn’t delusion. Hope is stamina. It gives us the energy to keep going, to care, to contribute. Without hope, action fizzles. With it, action becomes inevitable. I always think that becoming a climate doomer is the easy way out. Sure, it's painful. But it also means we don't have to do anything. We don't have to be responsible for our actions or pour love and care into our communities. The world is screwed, so we might as well dance in the flames.

Saying, there are serious problems, but I'm prepared to roll up my sleeves because I believe in the possibility of a better world... that is way harder. But it's exactly what we have to do. I would recommend starting a gratitude journal today. It is a concrete way to start rewiring your brain towards hope today.

Silver linings don't erase the storm

By the way , finding silver linings is not the same as toxic positivity.

Toxic positivity denies suffering. It says, “Everything happens for a reason” or “Just stay positive,” even when people are in pain. That’s not what we’re doing here.

We’re saying: Yes, this is hard. This hurts. And even here, a flicker of light is shining. Let’s find it and follow it.

Silver linings in surprising places

Here are some surprising, powerful examples that remind us: life is resilient, and goodness persists, even in devastation.

🌱 The Korean DMZ: The Demilitarised Zone (DMZ) is a 250-kilometre-long strip of land separating North and South Korea—created after the Korean War as a buffer between the two nations. For over 70 years, it’s been almost entirely free of human development due to military restrictions. Ironically, this area of extreme political tension has become one of the most well-preserved temperate habitats in the world. More than 5,000 species have been recorded there, including endangered animals like the red-crowned crane and the Amur leopard. The suffering caused by the division of Korea is profound and ongoing. But the land itself reminds us that life will grow wherever it’s given the chance.

🌱 Chernobyl: In 1986, a catastrophic nuclear explosion at the Chernobyl power plant in Ukraine caused mass evacuations and widespread radioactive contamination. For decades, the area has remained largely uninhabited by humans. But astonishingly, nature has crept back in. Wolves, wild boar, moose, and even lynx roam freely. Birds have built nests inside the abandoned reactor buildings. Some species have adapted to the radiation in surprising ways. While the legacy of suffering and environmental damage is undeniable, the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone has become a symbol of nature’s extraordinary ability to reclaim space—and a living reminder that healing is possible, even in places of devastation.

🌱 Northern France after WWII:During World War II, much of northern France was bombed heavily, especially towns along the Allied advance. Entire communities were flattened. It was devastating. But in the aftermath, when these areas were rebuilt from scratch, new infrastructure allowed for the widespread rollout of clean drinking water and electricity—services that many rural and working-class areas had previously gone without. Improved sanitation drastically reduced disease, and modern housing standards saved countless lives in the decades that followed. The trauma of war cannot and should not be downplayed—but we can still recognise the long-term improvements that arose from rebuilding with compassion and care.

🌱 The Black Death and Social Shifts:In the 14th century, the Black Death swept across Europe, killing an estimated 30–60% of the population. It was one of the most devastating pandemics in human history. But the massive loss of life also led to profound social changes. With fewer workers available, labour became more valuable. For the first time, peasants and tradespeople gained bargaining power, contributing to the slow decline of feudalism. Wages rose. Mobility increased. In the wake of grief and upheaval, the seeds of social mobility, workers’ rights, and eventually, the modern middle class were planted. It was a painful transformation. So many people died. And in the years that followed, workers were treated with dignity and given rights that they previously couldn't have imagined.

Choosing the hard work of hope in the climate crisis

There’s a kind of comfort in believing everything is doomed. If nothing matters, why bother trying? Why not just take the short-haul flight, buy the fast fashion, and live for the moment.

But hope asks more of us. Hope hurts sometimes. Hope says: "I care. I want things to be better. I'm willing to work for it, even if I don't see the results today." It says I'm going to live for the future. That’s not weakness. That’s radical courage.

The hard work of hope means choosing to be kind when it would be easier to shut down. It means connecting, even when you’ve been hurt. It means noticing which seeds you’re watering in yourself and in others. Sometimes, it means walking away. There are people who leave you feeling like there’s no point. Be careful how much time you spend with them. You deserve to be around people who nourish your hope, not drain it.

From now on, let’s become the people who see both the storm and the silver lining. Let’s choose connection, kindness, and the hard work of hope.

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