Caring about anything is delicate business. Not only is giving a damn about something an investment, but it also exposes our soft spots and anxieties and makes us hyper aware of the forces that threaten what we value. So, it makes sense that if you’re a person who cares about our planet (even a little), you’re likely to bristle when someone says “It’s too late to do anything about climate change.”
You might take the statement as an invitation to launch into statistics, or you might even lose patience entirely and straight-up call them uninformed, reckless, or some other regrettable insult. Maybe you’ll smile on the outside while you judge them harshly on the inside. But before you react, take a beat and entertain the idea that this person isn’t necessarily that pessimistic—they’re tired. Tired of the headlines. Tired of the inaction. Climate fatalism, or the idea that the crisis is past the point of no return, rarely stems from ignorance. Most often, it’s rooted in emotional exhaustion. It’s also on the rise.
Listen: We’ve taken a lot of Ls on the planet-warming front in the past several months. And, like fans of a team with an 0-7 season start, the mood is not exactly hopeful. According to a 2025 survey by Yale and George Mason Universities,16% of Americans strongly agree that it’s already too late to do anything about human-caused warming. And nearly half of the respondents also believe that the actions of a single person won’t make a difference.
Globally, the outlook is similarly cloudy. A study by Ipsos and Futerra found that climate fatalism is especially common among young people—particularly those with fewer resources or who are living in places beset by the harsher effects of the climate crisis.
But all might not be lost. Hearing someone say “it’s too late” to care about climate change presents an invitation not for debate but curiosity, says Leslie Davenport, a climate therapist and author who’s spent years working with people across the emotional spectrum of climate response, from burnout and guilt to urgency and cautious optimism. Climate fatalism, she says, often masks something deeper: grief, overwhelm, disconnection.
When you encounter it, what the person needs isn’t problem solving or a debate, but empathy. Resist the urge to pepper them with facts, forced hope, or thinly veiled frustration. Instead, approach the moment with curiosity and without an agenda and listen to what they say. And if it feels right, try one of the following suggestions.
1. Say nothing—at first
Before you respond, pause. Count to five. “Taking a beat can prevent us from reacting instead of connecting,” Davenport says. “We might get into that polarizing argumentative place rather than what we’ve just talked about.” Silence gives space—to you, to them, to the complexity of the moment. It shows that you’re present and willing to listen, not just ready to reply.
2. ‘Tell me more.’
When someone says, “it’s too late,” they’re rarely just stating a fact, says Davenport. They’re revealing something deeper. A simple way to invite more insight: Say “Tell me more.” They might not want to continue the conversation—and that’s OK. Move on. But if they do, you could follow up with something like, “I’m really interested in how you came to that conclusion.” People want to be understood, not just acknowledged. Approaching the conversation with curiosity, not condemnation or correction invites honesty without defensiveness.
Sometimes, you might want to shift the conversation away from the climate entirely, says Angela Betancourt, a climate and social justice communications specialist. “I ask, ‘What’s important to you in your work? What areas of your life would you want to have purpose in?’” Often, she says, this reveals what a person is passionate about—and there’s almost always a common ground that shows they care about the climate, even if their first response didn’t seem to reflect it.
3. ‘I get it. I really do.’
Chances are you’ve had moments—even long stretches—where you were too busy or too burnt out to focus on the environment or living sustainably. Caring can ask a lot from us, especially when good news can be so difficult to come by.
“There’s a lot of power in simply telling someone that you hear what they’re saying,” says Betancourt. “Hearing someone else say that ‘Yes, this overwhelming. Things are bad right now. I get it.’ can be really helpful.” By doing this, you’re acknowledging their emotions instead of debating them, Betancourt explains. “It validates their experience and lowers defensiveness.”
There’s a lot of power in simply telling someone that you hear what they’re saying.
4. ‘Here’s how I’m grappling with this.’
If you feel moved to offer another perspective during your interaction and there’s space to share it meaningfully, make it personal. “One of the most powerful things you can do in moments when someone expresses negativity is to offer shared experience,” says Davenport. Rather than offering abstract facts or general opinions, sharing your own lived experience creates a more authentic connection.
Try something as simple as “Here’s how I’m grappling with this,” or “Let me tell you how I’m deepening my commitment.” The hope, Davenport says, is that your story may resonate with them and spark a new perspective. This works because stories don’t argue; they connect. Instead of telling someone they’re wrong, you’re inviting them into your process. This may help them reconnect with their own motivations, potentially allowing them to re-engage with the issue.
5. ‘There’s a lot to contribute.’
Many people shut down because they think the only meaningful climate work is scientific, political, or overtly activist. “I really like to open up what it means to be an activist or an advocate,” Davenport says. “If you start an after school green club for kids or donate to an organization, it all matters.” The point to get across: People don’t have to be on the front lines to make a difference. Helping someone see their unique skills, roles, or communities as part of the solution can reignite their drive.
6. ‘Every degree matters.’
Fatalism often grows from an all-or-nothing mindset: If we can’t fix everything, why even try? Davenport counters this defeatist view with a quiet yet powerful truth: “I’m really holding onto the understanding that every percentage of a degree matters.” Even when it feels overwhelming, every fraction of a degree we manage to avoid has real, tangible impact. Even if we don’t stop warming entirely, incremental improvements can mean life and death for species, the survival of ecosystems, and the well-being of countless communities.
7. ‘OK, well nice talking to you.’
Sometimes—or, well, many times—despite your best efforts, a person simply isn’t open to engaging. It happens. “If you’re practicing all these things—listening, validating, staying curious—and there’s still just not much room for engagement, accept that there may be limitations there, at least for now,” Davenport says. It’s OK to let the conversation go and walk away, but that doesn’t mean you should feel defeated. You’ve planted a seed. It may not sprout right away, but it could grow in time. And even if it doesn’t, you’ve created the possibility for change, which is still valuable.
Lastly: Don’t forget about the ripple effect
Not every conversation will end with someone feeling re-energized and ready to take action. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. Even if the shift is subtle, your presence and your words can resonate. Someone may overhear the conversation and take your perspective into account. “We can’t always see the effect of our actions or our conversations,” says Davenport. That’s the thing with change—it’s often slow and hard to track in the moment. But that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.