Success Stories and Barriers in Narrative Environmental Journalism
Environmental reporters should embrace narrative storytelling to inform the public and increase awareness of bad-faith skeptic myths in conservative news.
Climate change is the greatest existential threat of our lifetime, and most of us journalists write on climate change in familiar ways. Case in point: I did a quick Google search and found an article that compared climate activism to Sisyphus and the boulder, while another compared it to Prometheus, and yet another compared their experience as a climate scientist to Galileo Galilei. In another search, I found at least six results on the first page comparing the climate change to a “fight.” Why do we do this?
As writers and as speakers on climate change or otherwise, we can’t help but tell stories. And in those stories, new arguments intermingle with old myths. Rhetoricians and psychologists are fascinated with the use of myth in language and writing due to its persuasive possibilities. For many, data-driven argumentation can be cold and impersonal, but a good story that plucks the heartstrings has a unique power to change minds.
Many of these narratives are productive ways of selling readers on climate change, but other narratives invoke long-held assumptions about the world which are not easily changed. Religious myths, or ones rooted in American exceptionalism, may prevent many Americans from recognizing climate change for the threat that it is.
So, when reporting on climate change, what are journalists to do? Republican trust of news media is at an all-time low — just 35% — according to the Pew Research Center. Edelman’s annual trust barometer found that 61% of Americans believe that “the media is not doing well at being objective and non-partisan.” In this climate of distrust, any reference to climate change may be seen as “political,” and the use of narratives — perhaps our most effective tool — may be seen as subjective and editorializing, putting reporters in a tricky spot.
At the same time, conservative news outlets — often in the same breath as criticizing liberal media — will use myths and narratives of their own to manufacture public distrust of science. It’s more important than ever to produce high-quality environmental journalism that convincingly informs the public on one of the world’s greatest challenges.
To achieve this, I want to investigate the rhetorical power of myth and narrative in journalism, then contrast conservative news’ use of myth to perpetuate misinformation. Finally, I plan to dissect success stories in local journalism, and explain what makes them effective.
Myth and Its Persuasive Benefits
Up until this point, I’ve used the terms myth and narrative near-interchangeably, but rhetoricians treat these terms as distinct. Rhetorician Craig Smith sees myth as a “meta-language” that reinforces rational meaning. In the time of the Greeks and Romans, myths were ways to fill in the gaps in science — they had no explanation for the starts in the sky, Smith recounts, so the Romans made up this story about the God Jupiter cheating on the Goddess Juno, who rejected nursing her illegitimate son Hercules and ended up spilling breast milk everywhere. #relatable. Apparently, we have the night sky because Juno didn’t bother to clean up after herself, which was very rude of her.
These myths are packed with cultural morals, or narratives. In this case, the narrative is “adultery bad.” Therefore, to Smith, “myth imbues the rules of society with moral force” and reflect the cultural values of its speakers. These myths get told and retold in new ways as metaphors to advance new arguments. For instance, in the immigration debate, Smith notes that one side calls immigrants illegal aliens and the other calls them hard workers who contribute the economy while trying to achieve the American Dream. Both invoke cultural myths. The conservative narrative “associates immigrants with predators in science fiction films,” while the liberal narrative invokes the cultural mythos “that can be traced back to other immigrants such as Pilgrims.”
Myths aren’t the only ways narratives appear. Psychologists Sara Constantino and Elke Weber point out that most any persuasive interpretation of scientific data has an embedded metaphor. Take, for example, Ed Hawkins’ “warming stripes” graphic, where color gradients invoke moral meaning for viewers. The color red not only signifies increasing temperatures, but also invokes alarm. Then there’s even simpler narratives that “locate responsibility with individuals or policymakers,” saying it’s important to “act now.” That’s a climate activist narrative that emphasizes urgency. These are, in themselves, not science, but interpretations of scientific observation with encoded value messages.
Scholars believe the use of narrative is one of the most effective ways of persuading audiences, and that makes sense. In the 2018 book Communicating Climate Change, Armstrong et al. brings forward a review of past climate change research and found that students taking science classes were most convinced of the validity of climate change when information presented was “personally relevant and meaningful.” If we only present stats and cold, hard data, audiences will get bored. But narratives are familiar. A successful retelling of myth will show a previously skeptical listener that this new problem is, in fact, just like this old story with a cultural value they already know and agree with. Comparing environmentalist action to a race will make the situation feel more urgent and, hopefully, prompt action.
In light of current research, using narratives is our best choice.
The Trickster Archetype in Conservative Media
While narratives are undoubtedly an effective means of persuasion, sometimes they work too well, as evidenced in situations where bad-faith reporters convince the public of climate skepticism in spite of current findings. Smith says that some are critical of public myths “because their ‘ideological’ overtones may create false consciousness.” He attributes this to Marxists, but you don’t have to be a socialist to be critical of bad climate narratives. Constantino and Weber point out that “discourses of inaction and doubt often come from coordinated and institutionalized efforts by powerful actors with vested interests in the current system, such as the fossil fuel sector, utilities, and even philanthropic organizations.”
We could also add “conservative news outlets” to this list. According to a study published in Public Understanding of Science, conservative media was observed to use these tactics to manufacture climate skepticism:
“1) Presenting contrarian scientists as ‘objective’ experts while presenting mainstream scientists as self-interested or biased.
2) Denigrating scientific institutions and peer-reviewed journals.
3) Equating peer-reviewed research with a politically liberal opinion.
4) Accusing climate scientists of manipulating data to fund research projects.
5) Characterizing climate science as a religion.”
This brings us to Fox News’ well-coiffed, smooth-talking dreamboat Tucker Carlson. We’ve seen a lot of climate skepticism on his Fox Nation segment, but I specifically want to zoom in on an interview last June where he brings in physicist Steven Koonin. He’s best known for his book Unsettled: What Climate Science Tells Us, What It Doesn’t, and Why It Matters.
In this interview, Carlson leverages Koonin as an authority of science. Koonin claims that climate change is a “fiction of the media” because “there are ‘no detectable human influences’ on natural disasters like hurricanes for more than a century, and today’s heatwaves in the U.S. are just as common as they were back in 1900.” Moreover, he believes that “the warmest temperatures have not gone up in the last 60 years.” Koonin is a scientist, but his views do not reflect the larger body of evidence and, in fact, critics and climate scientists have been vocal about the many facts his book got wrong. On that shaky foundation, Koonin uses his authority as a scientist to argue that government officials in support of climate relief “are unqualified to raise the issue to such an extreme.”
Koonin, formerly chief scientist at oil company BP, is not the first contrarian scientist designed to spark climate uncertainty, and he won’t be the last. But why are these figures so often the darlings of conservative news anchors like Tucker Carlson? The answer goes back to myth.
Being contrarian is precisely what makes them so popular among conservatives. Figures like Koonin embody some combination of the trickster archetype and the rogue ethos. The trickster is a mythological character who appears villainous who relies on “guile and trickery.” Tricksters are very intelligent behind the ruse, and some literature sees them as completely self-serving, while others point to them as the provider of a deep lost wisdom that allows the protagonist to learn some important lesson and save the day. Popular examples have included the Fool from King Lear, Loki from Norse mythology and the Marvel comics, and the Coyote in Native American oral tradition. The rogue ethos is an offshoot of the trickster imagined by rhetorician Jeffrey P. Mehltretter Drury in 2014. The rogue is very much like the trickster, but Drury’s account focuses on the rogue’s archetypal role to “purposely disrupt the moral, social, or political order” through shocking or unpopular opinions, but the rogue also has a heart of gold. They’re “detractors” and sometimes even “bullies,” but they do so in order to “challenge the political order” and “do so for noble aims.”
The trickster rogue scientist is a hit among conservatives because they create the image of the lone individualist rebel standing off against a league of corrupt politicians and scientists. This myth allows conservatives to feel comfortable not questioning their pre-existing beliefs about science, only to become more susceptible to the contrarian scientists’ alternate, usually misleading versions of the data. And it’s a hit among massive corporations and conservative politicians because it allows them to keep business going as usual.
The only problem is that Tucker Carlson is using contrarian scientists to tell lies. Up to 48% of conservative politicians know it’s a lie, too. Possibly even more behind closed doors, if the conservative president of the American Conservation Coalition is to be believed. Conservatives in power manufacture skepticism into partisan issues, and are relying on the public to not look into the science. Sadly, the Siren power of myth allows bad-faith actors to short-circuit and obscure genuine critical analysis of the data.
This account reveals a few things. First, myths are persuasive, but are only ethical if used in conversation with scientific evidence. Koonin can only be a trickster rogue if evidence exists that the scientific consensus on climate change is fabricated for personal gain. Otherwise, an entirely different story emerges when you learn the science, and the myth falls apart. Second, there is a dire need to improve scientific literacy in America. These conservative tactics only work because a large part of the population is unfamiliar with the published research process, peer review, and the scientific method. Third, journalists play an important role in making that information available — and they can use myths in accordance with science.
Ethics of Preservation and Wise Old Men: Success Stories in Environmental Journalism
There are great journalists who make impacts in their communities every day, but their job isn’t easy. This is especially the case for reporters who cover “political topics” like climate change as part of their job. Not only overworked and often underpaid, journalists frequently face public derision for reporting on scientific updates. According to the Dart Center, 92% of journalists report experiencing “at least four traumatic events” including intimidation, harassment, and occasionally violence. In the era of Trump, journalists have been choked, grabbed, and have received death threats.
Obviously, the higher-profile traumas are less likely for local and smaller-scale reporters, but it’s a stressful time for anyone to be a reporter when much of the population strongly distrusts the work they do. But it’s an important job — they’re informing the public on crucial issues in science, and often driving advocacy in the process.
My skills are more on the copy editing side, so I spoke to two Wisconsin-based reporters to learn more about what makes a persuasive climate coverage. Wisconsin is a key swing state that has helped determine the outcome of many elections, so the debate is alive in the communities they serve and they’ve had their share of both positive and negative feedback for their publications’ work.
“The paper I write for has received some letters from readers regarding their disbelief or disagreement in climate change or other topics we’ve reported on,” says Kaitlyn Scoville, general assignment reporter for the Oshkosh Herald. Oshkosh, Wisconsin, is a mid-sized city with a population of approximately 67,000.
Joseph Schulz reports for the Ripon Commonwealth Press. Ripon is a much more rural community with a population of around 7,900 and, incidentally, it’s the somewhat contested but most recognized origin site of the Republican party.
“While I do report on a rural area, we aren’t afraid to tell the truth. Sometimes we receive backlash, but overwhelmingly the community appreciates the service we provide,” Schulz says.
In line with rhetoricians and psychologists discussed early, Schulz and Scoville both see local news as a persuasive way to convince the public on climate change.
“My strategy for reaching these folks is to localize climate change, and present it on a micro level in hopes that it changes public opinion,” Schulz says.
“To me, it seems readers are negatively responsive to larger numbers and more nationally related things,” Scoville says. “If we can narrow it down to how the area is specifically affected by something, I feel they can grasp the concept better.”
Scoville sent me an article from Wisconsin Watch as an example of high-quality environmental journalism. It’s a profile of photographer Brett Kosmider, who takes nature photos along Door County, a coastal tourist destination valued for its gorgeous Great Lakes, state parks, forests, and lighthouses. Everyone in Wisconsin has been there at least once.
“Without preserving these places, Door County would not be what it is today,” Kosmider said to the Watch. “The entire economy of the region depends on it. The importance of preserving these places is paramount. It should be a top-of-the-line issue.”
The pathos of the story is conveyed in a Q&A format. You can really feel Kosminder’s love of nature through his recounting of family road trips, which sparked his photography passion. He talks about being inspired by Wisconsin scientist and philosopher Aldo Leopold, and when he finally talks about climate change at the end, the reader carries that love of nature with them. Even if climate change is partisan, a love of nature isn’t — in fact, it seems to be the conservatives who are the avid campers, hikers, and canoers. There’s this old myth of the individualist nature-lover that started with Henry David Thoreau and the transcendentalists, and just hearing about getting passionate about going out in the wilderness invokes that mythos for a lot of people. Connecting that to climate change is a great start to building conservative support.
And I think Scoville is right about the local touch. People in Wisconsin love Door County, so the thought of its natural wonders disappearing is a distressing thought. It’s something we locals can deeply relate to. It’s personal, it’s relevant. It makes you want to do something, give back to the environment.
Schulz showed me an article he wrote last February.
“I reported on Big Green Lake,” Schulz says, referring to a lake in Green Lake County, “which on average takes longer to freeze now than it did decades ago.”
The Big Green Lake is a popular destination for ice fishing, iceboating, and other winter sports. Its ice loss, which has been on a measured decline since the 1940s, is a growing concern for the local economy and participating enthusiasts. Schulz chose his sources carefully.
“I spoke with the nonprofit Green Lake Association, which works to keep the lake healthy; the Green Lake Sanitary District, a local entity tasked with keeping the lake clean; and the elderly man, who was once responsible for measuring whether the lake had frozen.”
I want to pinpoint Schulz’s interview with the elderly man, Norton Boatworks owner Joe Norton. Climate skeptics, often older Americans themselves, commonly imagine climate scientists and other proponents of environmentalism as out-of-touch young people who don’t have perspective. So it’s powerful and stereotype-breaking when Schulz quotes Norton saying, “It’s pretty obvious that the lake has been freezing later and thaws out earlier than it did back in the ’40s, ’50s and even into the ‘60s.”
While much of conservative news incorporates the trickster figure, Schulz introduced another mythological archetype: the wise old man. The wise old man is usually depicted as a “mentor or teacher to the hero,” providing crucial wisdom derived from experience which allows the less-experienced younger hero to make the world a better place. Popular examples include Merlin, Gandalf from Lord of the Rings, and Yoda from Star Wars.
Here, an older man is depicted as a wise voice of reason, having lived long enough to see climate change in action. Thanks to his measurements on the Green Lake’s surface, younger local leadership in the Green Lake Sanitary District and the Green Lake association are able to make informed decisions about the local climate.
The myth is important, but the success of Schulz’s article lies in how everything comes together. The wise old man myth is substantiated by decades-long data, and interviewed experts linked this case to the larger climate change phenomenon. This synthesis of narrative, scientific data, and a local angle make it persuasive as a piece of climate journalism.
Crucially, quotes from climate skeptics are nowhere to be found. Some may see this choice as controversial since journalism traditionally strives for balance and objectivity. Still, Schulz defends his choice.
“Working in a rural area can sometimes impact my reporting, but I make a conscious effort to avoid using ‘false balance.’ I could have included a throwaway line about “some in the scientific community question climate change and point to other factors,” but I chose not to because it would have undermined the fact that the world is warming, and that warming has a direct local impact,” Schulz said.
Since belief in climate change is often seen as political, reporters are sometimes accused of editorializing by mentioning it, but Scoville says this shouldn’t be a concern.
“To some extent, I do believe editorializing may become an issue if the content steers more toward ineffective ways to combat climate change or that it doesn’t exist,” Scoville says. “If science can reasonably prove with statistics that climate change is real and is directly affecting us as a world and local population, we don’t need another side to say it isn’t.”
Reporting on environmental issues often comes with a share of backlash and stress, but ethical journalists continue to report factually, incorporate narratives when useful, and make differences in their communities of readers.
“I did receive some pushback,” Schulz says. “We had a few negative comments, and one person emailed me saying climate change was caused by the sun. … But overwhelmingly the community appreciates the service we provide. The support from readers, and a willingness to be honest about the truth helps us know it’s worth it.”
