Today’s headlines often focus on existential threats, from the climate emergency and AI development to geopolitical conflict. While these challenges are unprecedented, the habit of using fear to stir public sentiment is a well-established strategy. However, relying on doomerism risks fostering a sense of helplessness that can effectively freeze public engagement. T hese days, it’s easy to succumb to hopelessness. The prospect of AI apocalypse, war or political turmoil, the list of challenges facing humanity can seem insurmountable, whether you’re thinking about the climate crisis. And much of it may be, it certainly feels unprecedented. On the other hand, is nothing new, the sense of impending doom. And what we have learned from the past is that doomerism can lead to paralysis. Then nothing changes – but if we want to have a chance of mitigating some of the threats I’ve mentioned then action is what’s required, if everyone freezes. The hands move closer to midnight whenever events push humanity a little closer to catastrophe. The idea was to wake people from their day-to-day routines and help them realise the grave risks facing us. But worry that feelings of dread will immobilise people, i find myself in a third camp of people who harbour sincere concerns about the problems facing humanity. And then using the most popular headline, this was a website that became famous for conducting A/B tests of headlines to see which one drove clicks.
A historic example of this communication style is the Doomsday Clock, launched by The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists in 1947. Initially set at seven minutes to midnight, it served as an alarm to signal global risk. Today, the clock sits at a mere 85 seconds to midnight, illustrating how such imagery attempts to shock audiences into wakefulness. In 1947, The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists created an infamous magazine cover with a “Doomsday Clock”.
Debates persist on how best to communicate grave risks. Proponents of alarmist messaging, including figures like former Anthropic researcher Jacob Coxon, argue that existential warnings are necessary to capture attention regarding dangers like frontier AI models. Conversely, critics contend these hyperbolic claims frequently backfire, creating panic or shifting focus away from actionable solutions.
I align with those who worry that chronic dread immobilizes people. Inaction often feels like a logical response if individuals believe the damage is irreversible or the scale of the problem makes personal effort seem futile. The danger of doomerism lies in its potential to create a self-fulfilling prophecy, replacing motivation with debilitating helplessness. Or that the scope of the problem is so immense that anything you do won’t make a difference, inaction is a sensible response if you are led to believe that we are past the point of no return.
This disconnect is deeply rooted in human psychology. Persuasion experts have long observed that fear can trigger a temporary response, but it only succeeds if the audience maintains a sense of efficacy. When people are constantly inundated with catastrophic narratives, they tend to tune out, similar to the boy who cried wolf.
The media environment exacerbates this by prioritizing negative content, driven by the enduring principle of “if it bleeds, it leads.” In an analysis of 22,743 experiments from Upworthy.com, researchers found that each additional negative word in a headline increased click-through rates by 2.3%. This trend highlights a pervasive negativity bias where bad news consistently attracts more attention than positive stories. Then, is that the modern information ecosystem tends to reinforce negativity, a big problem for us now. This came from an understanding among journalists that humans are drawn to bad news.
To understand the real-world impact of these narratives, we conducted a study with 59,440 participants across 63 countries, testing 11 different climate messages. One message was heavily laden with “doom and gloom,” warning participants that current climate anxiety over melting glaciers or starving polar bears is merely the beginning of potential terrors that could arrive within a young adult’s lifetime. We had climate experts create 11 different messages to determine exactly which of them changed beliefs and mobilised people to take real action.
While that alarmist passage was the most effective at driving social media sharing, it proved to be the least successful at inspiring genuine action, such as tree planting or supporting climate policy. It failed to increase belief in the climate emergency or foster meaningful behavioral change.
In contrast, messaging that leaned on scientific consensus—stating that 99% of experts agree that human activity causes global warming—outperformed fear-based appeals in every category except internet sharing. Presenting these facts in a sober, reliable manner proved far more effective at building a foundation for change. Noting that “99% of expert climate scientists” agree on the facts), social norms (stating that a majority of people in each nation was concerned), cons, the messages included emphasising scientific consensus (for example.
Beyond scientific consensus, other strategies offer more promise. My PhD student, Danielle Goldwert, has discovered that highlighting the emotional rewards of climate action, such as fostering hope and social connection, significantly increases the likelihood that people will engage in advocacy, donations, or lifestyle changes.
If society intends to address the dire threats currently on the horizon, we must pivot away from paralyzing rhetoric. Providing a reason to hope is essential. Without a clear path toward potential efficacy, society risks becoming trapped in a cycle of constant doomscrolling while actual progress stalls. For further reading on constructive approaches, titles such as “Not the End of the World” by Hannah Ritchie, “Hope in the Dark” by Rebecca Solnit, and “The Future We Choose” by Christiana Figueres and Tom Rivett-Carnac offer alternative frameworks for engagement. Not the End of the World by Hannah Ritchie (Vintage, £18.99. Hope in the Dark by Rebecca Solnit (Canongate, £10.99). The Future We Choose by Christiana Figueres and Tom Rivett-Carnac (Vintage, £12.99).
