An Unofficial Step-by-Step Guide to Talking to Climate Deniers

By Haley Todd Newsome

Published Monday March 3, 2025.

So you care about the climate crisis—good! After all, the world is sprinting past 1.5ºC of warming, which means we’re facing even more devastating loss and ecological destruction.[1] So caring is good! It’s the first step toward action.

            And when you begin taking action, that’s also good! I personally believe that both individual and collective steps forward are vital right now. Composting, investing in energy-efficient home appliances, and (the classic) using a reusable water bottle may be drops in the bucket. But guess what? Oceans are made of drops. As you dutifully pour drops in the bucket, you also take part in local activism to shift policy and public priority. This is all very good.

            Then, at Thanksgiving, you get in a screaming match with Uncle Harry. He’s spent his whole career working for ExxonMobil, or he thinks that the government is trying to take away his constitutional right to decide which lightbulbs to buy, or he expresses disbelief that the planet is even warming because Alabama had that freak snowfall in March a few years back.

            This screaming match is less good. It might even be bad. Naturally, you tell Uncle Harry that he’s stupid and heartless (even though he was smart and caring enough to build the custom bookshelves in your childhood bedroom); you refuse to take a plate of leftovers (after all, they only have plastic to wrap it in, and who do they think you are?); and you storm off. On the way home, you remind yourself that you are good. By the time you pull your electric car into the garage of your solar-powered home, you’re convinced that Uncle Harry himself might even be bad. As you eat tofurkey alone and rewatch a David Attenborough documentary, you feel even better about yourself, climate hero that you are.

            But if you find yourself lying awake that night, wondering if you were really in the right—wondering if there might be a better way—then this guide is for you. Just follow this step-by-step process, and soon you won’t just be arguing with all of the climate deniers in your life—you’ll be winning those arguments![2]

An Unofficial Step-by-Step Guide to Talking to Climate Deniers

1. Do your homework. Gather all the statistics and scientific evidence you can find. Consider putting them into a presentation or one-page handout for easy reference. Carefully select reputable sources and information that is accurate but not too alarmist. Condense the content so that it can be delivered in everyday conversation as well as more formal settings, like holidays or the intermission during your cousin Clara’s piano recital.
   Next, throw away all of that research; instead, grab a journal or go to therapy. Your homework is not to prepare a fact sheet; your homework is to do some inner healing. Oof.
   Caring about the Earth means that you are in pain, because what you care about is in pain. If you don’t grip your pain tight in both hands and force your eyes to stare at it, you will take your pain out on other people. You didn’t know it at the time, but that’s what you did at Thanksgiving. It’s gross. It’s what bullies do. And it only creates more pain. Stop it.
   When you think about the state of the world, you feel that colossal, almost indescribable grief/terror/rage/despair/horror/desperation—yeah, duh! You’re paying attention! But you must find your own way to continually work through that black hole inside you so that you don’t pass it on to the next person like the world’s crappiest game of hot potato.

2. Find a climate denier. The National Center for Science Education uses “climate denial” to refer to positions that “encompass[ ] unwarranted doubt as well as outright rejection” of “the scientific community’s consensus on the answers to the central questions of climate change.”[3] This term is murky and can cover a myriad of opinions. Using this definition, there’s certainly no shortage of climate deniers in the United States. According to Pew Research Center, 14% of U.S. adults say that there is “no solid evidence” that the planet is warming; a further 26% say that the planet is warming mostly from natural patterns; and another 14% are uncertain.[4] You should be able to find a climate denier with ease.
   As humans, climate deniers typically dislike being randomly approached and aggressively questioned on the street. Instead, think of someone who cares about you and disagrees with you on climate issues: Uncle Harry, the family member who uninvited you from the annual Christmas dinner, the sibling who sends you memes but won’t look you in the eye.
   This step requires you to escape your carefully curated bubble. “Ugh,” you say. “The bubble is awesome! We have a comfy mattress made from composted avocado skins or something, and out there they just have pollution and decay and plastic straws.” Yes, you have a lovely life in your little bubble. Pop it. Ruthlessly. With the sharpest object you can find.

3. Approach the climate denier. It’s best if this step feels as awkward as possible, because that means you’re being as brave as possible. If you feel your cheeks heating and palms sweating more with every word, that means you’re doing it right. Now, follow this script:

“Hello, [name]. I trust that you care about me and want to be part of my life. I also care about you and want you to be part of my life. One thing that’s really important to me is [insert climate-related issue here]. I want to have an honest conversation with you about [issue], because I want to share my thoughts with you and hear your thoughts. It’s important to me that we’re able to talk about [issue], because I want us to be able to talk to one another about the things that we care about, even if we disagree. If this sounds good to you, let’s pick a place and time.”

Assuming they agree, pick out the place and time, then exit the conversation to throw up in the nearest trash can. Vulnerability doesn’t mix well with just about any food.

1. Prepare for the conversation. First, identify your goal. Perfect, you think, jotting down “change their mind” on your mental notepad.
   No!, I screech back, removing it with my telepathic eraser. Let’s go for, “Listen and be listened to.” Or, “Help them understand why this is so important to me and understand at least one thing from their point of view.” Or simply, “Make it through the conversation without throwing up again.” Going into a conversation and trying to change minds is like flying an airplane and trying to land on the 50-yard line at the U of A stadium. You might crash and burn regardless, but you don’t want to crash and burn on purpose because your objective was impossible.
   After establishing a realistic goal, it might be helpful to brainstorm a few topics. Can I tell them all the statistics you made me throw away? If your preestablished goal is “make their eyes glaze over,” then sure! If not, consider chatting about how you became interested in this issue, why it’s important to you, or your hopes for the future of this issue.

2. Set ground rules. One strategy for hard conversations is to establish boundaries for behavior rather than people. Instead of, “Cousin Natasha is not welcome at my graduation party,” you can try, “Hateful or demeaning language is not welcome at my graduation party.” The end result might be the same, if your cousin Natasha insists on saying that anyone who voted for so-and-so is an evil monster who should face the violent wrath of their chosen deity. But the framing of the boundary is much less open to hours of debate.
   Because the whole point of your conversation is engaging with someone who disagrees with you, difference of opinion won’t be an effective line to draw. But how do you allow disagreement while also ensuring that everyone emerges from the conversation in one piece? Many folks in the United States seem to have completely forgotten that such conversations are even possible, but they are. I know, because I’ve had them.
   In her book Braving the Wilderness, Brené Brown[5] explains: “The clearer and more respected the boundaries, the higher the level of empathy and compassion for others.”[6] People who effectively engage in conflict set clear, firm boundaries of physical and emotional safety.[7] This is tricky “in a world where the term ‘emotional safety’ is often used to mean I don’t have to listen to any point of view that’s different from mine, that I don’t like, that I think is wrong, that will hurt my feelings, or that is not up to my standards of political correctness.”[8] But emotional safety is much more about not crossing the line to dehumanizing language and behavior.[9] Uncle Harry is allowed to say that he thinks climate science is too alarmist and things aren’t as bad as they seem; Uncle Harry is not allowed to violently cuss out climate scientists in terms that belittle their humanity. For that matter, he’s not allowed to violently cuss you out and belittle your humanity, either. And you’re not allowed to violently cuss him out and belittle his humanity.
   For a productive conversation with your climate denier, you may want to set up guidelines beforehand as a sort of social contract between the two of you. Things like “we won’t use dehumanizing language” and “no physical violence even if someone mentions the election.” If that won’t fly, you can just explain which behaviors you will not tolerate. And if the boundaries are violated, you can stand up and leave for your own safety. Stick it out through disagreement, but if disagreement veers into dehumanizing territory, just hit the bricks!

3. Have the conversation. You’ve found a climate denier; you’ve asked them to talk to you about climate and they said yes; and you’ve prepared your goals, your topic, and your boundaries. Now, the hard part (blog post author, you think with growing rage, every single step has already been hard!): Talk. Like a human being. Listen. To understand, not to counter their point with the statistics that I told you to throw away a full five steps ago. You’ve worked really hard to make this conversation happen, and you will jeopardize it and your relationship with the other person if you’re not willing to hear them out. In all likelihood, you’ll still leave this conversation with the same opinion you entered it with. They may present an article or their understanding of a recent weather event; you’ll likely take thirty seconds to weigh it against everything you’ve experienced and read, and your analysis will come out in favor of what you already know and believe.
   But it’s still worth it to take the thirty seconds to genuinely engage and try to understand, even if you don’t change your mind. Those thirty seconds say, “I do not think you’re an idiot. I do not think you’re crazy. I do not think you’re less than me. I may disagree with your assessment of the information available to you, but I respect you enough to at least hear what that assessment is.” People who can communicate this will not only maintain healthy personal relationships; they’ll also be more powerful advocates. Take the thirty seconds, over and over, until you’ve had the full conversation. You’ve said your piece and you’ve heard theirs. You can wrap up with a hug, some light chit-chat, expressing gratitude, and/or throwing up again.

4. Rinse and repeat. A lot of relationship-building can happen in one conversation. Even more can happen in multiple conversations. Eventually, you’ll become known not as the crazy advocate who screams at Thanksgiving,[10] but as the reasonable advocate who is willing to have conversations across disagreement. When you’re with your activist zero-waste friends, you can share what “the other side” is concerned about. You can start collaborating and stop advocating in an echo chamber where everyone already agrees with you anyway.
   The point isn’t changing minds. The point is bringing down the figurative temperature so that we can achieve a more inclusive climate justice to bring down the literal temperature. The alternative—the Thanksgiving screaming matches and the screaming matches on Capitol Hill—clearly aren’t working. So why not at least try another way?

Over 20 years ago, my parents watched me learn to walk on New Smyrna Beach. Then, within 24 hours, they watched me learn to sprint on that beach, and they chased my enthusiastic toddler self into the waves so that I wouldn’t drown. We still call sanderlings “Haley birds” because of how fast my tiny legs once took off across the sand and surf.

This summer, my dad and I walked along New Smyrna Beach every afternoon of our family beach trip. On one walk, he explained that, based on his assessment of the information available to him, he certainly doesn’t think that the planet is doing well, but he also doesn’t think that climate change is as urgent or life-changing as it’s presented to be. I explained that, based on my assessment of the information available to me, I disagree; I think that climate change is the most desperate problem facing humanity today, and we must act with every ounce of urgency and passion we can muster to avoid catastrophic loss.

My dad and I kept walking. We found unexpected places of agreement: climate progress must be just. It shouldn’t screw a bunch of people over. In the long run, renewable energy is a sensible solution both environmentally and economically.

After a while, the conversation naturally veered away from climate and toward which of my nine cousins is best at Uno. (We found agreement there, too: the three-year-old with the toothy grin, who somehow knows both the Uno rules and the state capitals better than I do.) My dad and I kept walking.

The climate crisis is robbing our world of so much that makes life beautiful: biodiversity and endangered species, safe communities, ancient ways of life, stable food production and water security, even New Smyrna Beach. I refuse to let it rob me of my relationships, too. We live in a both-and kind of world in which complicated contradictions can all be true. So I will both work toward climate justice with passion and grit and keep walking on the beach with my dad for as long as I can. On a burning planet, we simply can’t afford to burn bridges.

[1] Oliver Milman, The Goal to Keep World’s Temperature Rise Below 1.5 Celsius Is “Deader Than a Doornail”, Mother Jones (Nov. 19, 2024), https://www.motherjones.com/environment/2024/11/cop-29-scientists-say-the-goal-to-keep-worlds-temperature-rise-below-1-5-celsius-is-not-going-to-happen/.

[2] Results not guaranteed.

[3] Why Is It Called Denial?, Nat’l Ctr. for Sci. Educ. (Jan. 15, 2016), https://ncse.ngo/why-it-called-denial.

[4] Giancarlo Pasquini et al., Why Some Americans Do Not See Urgency on Climate Change, Pew Rsch. Ctr. (Aug. 9, 2023), https://www.pewresearch.org/science/2023/08/09/why-some-americans-do-not-see-urgency-on-climate-change/.

[5] Anyone who knows me has been wondering when I would bring Brené Brown up. Here we are.

[6] Brené Brown, Braving the Wilderness 97–98 (Usha Gwale, 2017).

[7] See id.

[8] Id.

[9] Id. at 99–100.

[10] You really need to stop doing that.