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The politics of eco-anxiety
This article is authored by Anusreeta Dutta, columnist and climate researcher and Zahid Sultan, independent researcher, Kashmir.
A groundbreaking study published in The Lancet Planetary Health in 2021 found that almost 60% of young people in ten countries were "very worried" about the climate crisis, and 45% said their anxiety got in the way of their daily lives. Alarmism, which was once mocked, is now a term used in public health. People no longer think of eco-anxiety as a rare mental illness. It is a feeling that comes from a structural crisis.
But in India and most of the Global South, fear of the environment goes beyond melting ice caps and far-off wildfires. It is about heat waves that make schools close, floods that kill small businesses, air pollution that makes it hard to breathe during the season, and the quiet fear that policy moves slower than disaster. Here, eco-anxiety is real. It's been done.
The bigger question is: who is responsible for the mental toll of climate change, and who is expected to deal with it without complaining?
Eco-anxiety is a constant fear of environmental disaster. It is rational, in contrast to clinical anxiety disorders. It comes from real and measurable dangers. Record-high temperatures, strange monsoons, glaciers melting in the Himalayas, and stronger cyclones hitting India's shores are not just things that could happen; they are news stories that happen all the time.
Hyper-connectedness affects eco-anxiety in India's young people living in cities. Social media makes distance seem smaller. Images of flooded cities, maps of wildfires, and dire climate predictions are shared all the time. People feel the climate problem in two ways: as local suffocation and as global collapse.
But being aware of something without being able to do anything about it makes you feel powerless. When people are told they need to "change their lifestyle," but industrial and geopolitical forces still have the most effect on structural emissions, concern turns into anger. The climate disaster starts to feel like a moral burden that is unfairly placed on each person.
Not everyone has eco-anxiety. People in Delhi who are middle-class millennials might be worried about running out of water in the future. A farmer in Maharashtra, on the other hand, is about to lose his crops. A student is worried about the end of the world, and a house on the coast of Odisha is worried about the storm season coming up.
It's ironic that the people who are least responsible for emissions often have to deal with the worst effects on the climate and, more and more, the emotional toll. Psychological distress signifies material susceptibility.
In India, climate impacts intersect with class, caste, gender, and geography. People who work informally in hot weather, live in areas that are prone to flooding, or depend on monsoons for their crops all see climate change as a problem, not a debate. Nonetheless, mental health treatments are insufficient, especially in rural and semi-urban regions. The result is silent endurance.
So, eco-anxiety is a problem of unfairness. It's not just fear of the future; it's also about how different people are vulnerable to change.
Eco-anxiety is spread unevenly. Middle-class millennials in Delhi may worry about future water scarcity, while a farmer in Maharashtra confronts imminent crop failure. A student is concerned about planetary collapse, while a coastal home in Odisha is concerned about the upcoming storm season. The irony is stark: Those least culpable for emissions frequently endure the brunt of the climatic consequences—and, increasingly, the emotional toll. Psychological suffering reflects material vulnerability.
Climate affects in India overlap with class, caste, gender, and geography. Informal workers exposed to high temperatures, populations in flood-prone districts, and agrarian households reliant on monsoons all see climate change as a disturbance rather than a debate. Nonetheless, mental health treatments are inadequate, particularly in rural and semi-urban areas. The outcome is silent endurance.
Thus, eco-anxiety becomes an issue of inequality. It is more than just anxiety of the future; it is also about unequal vulnerability to upheaval.
A big reason people are worried about the environment is that they don't trust the government to do anything about it. A lot of young people say something like this: "Governments, businesses, and scientists all know what's going on, so why does change feel like it's not enough?" Governance of climate must find a balance between goals like job creation, energy security, economic growth, and political posture. India needs to find a way to balance its goals for growth and its goals for reducing carbon emissions. But for many people, this complexity shows up as doubt.
The psychological effects of feeling like nothing is happening could be very bad. When institutional responses lag behind the gravity of the crisis, concern transforms into cynicism. In democracies, constant cynicism makes people less sure of themselves. So, eco-anxiety is more than just a problem with mental health. This is a question that has to do with democracy. If people, especially young people, think that their future is something that can be traded off in policy decisions, they lose faith in the government.
Consider the experience in urban India. Summer heatwaves often exceed 45°C. Air pollution rises throughout the winter months. Water scarcity becomes more severe as cities grow. Sweating, shortness of breath, and exhaustion are the initial signs of a climatic encounter. Add to that a 24-hour news cycle, which amplifies extreme weather events around the world. Climate is no longer episodic; rather, it is constant. The sense of "there is no escape" exacerbates emotional distress.
At the same time, consumer culture fosters aspirational development. Air-conditioned malls and energy-intensive lifestyles coexist with environmental warnings. This cognitive dissonance—between desire and sustainability—causes moral uncertainty. Individuals alternate between guilt and denial.
India is at a very important point. It is one of the fastest-growing major economies in the world and one of the most vulnerable to climate change. This is an example of the climate paradox: wanting to do well and being worried at the same time. It's not a luxury to be eco-anxious. It shows the effects of living in a hot, dirty environment, unstable farming, and young people who are worried about the future. But it also shows that there is hope: the chance to make a development path that uses less carbon than the ones that came before it.
When handled in a positive way, eco-anxiety can be a powerful force for change. It can make organisations more open, creative, and responsible. If not taken care of, it could make distrust between generations worse. People often talk about the climate disaster in terms of degrees Celsius, parts per million, or gigawatts installed. But what's behind these numbers is something more personal: how you feel. Fear of losing. Fear of being moved. Fear of getting unstable.
This article is authored by Anusreeta Dutta, columnist and climate researcher and Zahid Sultan, independent researcher, Kashmir.
