Photograph by Adrian Morris / Kintzing
Words by Erin Blondeau
Erin Blondeau is a writer, mother, activist, and citizen of the Cowichan Valley Métis Nation. This Points of View article reflects their opinions, not necessarily those of Atmos.
In 2007, I sat among my high school classmates to watch Al Gore’s climate change documentary, An Inconvenient Truth. Some students doodled dissociatively. Others expressed feelings of grief and alarm. I sat with my arms crossed, smug that I had not been duped by The Great Climate Hoax.
For years, I dismissed unprecedented hurricanes and wildfires as products of government-sanctioned chemtrails and mysterious weather manipulations by HAARP. It wasn’t until I went to college years later that my conspiracy spell was broken, and I decided to delve into climate activism, determined to make a dent in Big Oil’s seemingly impenetrable armor. But just as I was coming out of conspiracy culture, it went mainstream—particularly with the first Donald Trump presidency in 2016. All around me in rural British Columbia, people were expressing skepticism of climate science. Then came the pandemic, sending more people spiraling down the far-right rabbit hole that I knew too well.
Now in 2025, we are navigating the fifth year of what the United Nations has called the Code Red decade for humanity. Even so, anti-climate sentiment is still on the rise—helped along by a global far-right populist movement seeking to undo environmental regulations while increasing fossil fuel production. To be sure, United States President Donald J. Trump has accelerated our path toward climate collapse. But the roots of this undoing can be traced back to decades of political failure.
The climate crisis is a product of individualism, political apathy, and a misguided longing for colonial power. Through the support of fossil fuel corporations and their complicity in genocides and ecocides, “progressive” parties have undermined their credibility. Far-right political actors have exploited these failures, successfully portraying progressives as out-of-touch elites to working-class voters who feel betrayed by the system. These same ultraconservatives then falsely label any meaningful climate action or economic reform as dangerous socialism, blocking necessary changes on both sides of the political spectrum.
Meanwhile, social media platforms are spreading climate misinformation and conspiracy theories that benefit far-right politicians, who in turn offer tax cuts and deregulation. These conditions have created a perfect storm where legitimate grievances about inequality fuel polarization and conspiracy culture. At the same time, real threats like the climate emergency are downplayed, dismissed, and used to push through harmful policies.
In other words: The climate countermovement I once subscribed to is fighting our attempts at confronting the most existential threat humans have ever known.
The climate countermovement operates through an alliance of fossil fuel executives, far-right politicians, and tech giants.
The Trump administration, which includes billionaire and X owner Elon Musk as head of The Department of Government Efficiency, recently declared it will massively increase fossil fuel spending and halt environmental regulations. On his first day in office, Trump signed an executive order directing the U.S. to again pull out of the Paris climate agreement. In Canada, Conservative leader Pierre Poilievre, who is backed by Big Oil, was on track to become the next Prime Minister until his seemingly inevitable win was thrown into jeopardy by Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s resignation announcement last month and Trump’s looming tariff threat on Canadian goods. Poilievre’s record shows he has voted against environmental protections more than 400 times.
“The climate countermovement operates through an alliance of fossil fuel executives, far-right politicians, and tech giants.”
The same goes for a handful of far-right leaders in Europe, where climate misinformation is spread by some extremist politicians as part of their populist agenda. A study published in January 2025 found that radical right-wing populism and misinformation are so connected that they should be understood as “inextricably linked” and are “two facets of the same political phenomenon.”
While the climate countermovement battles basic climate progress legislatively, tech corporations control our information ecosystem by pushing misinformation to our feeds and for-you pages. Social media can be a tool for organizing, maintaining vital connections with loved ones, and gathering information about the world in an accessible way. But the reality is that our presence on these apps is leveraged to benefit corporations—not us.
In 2023, Meta, the corporation that runs Instagram and Facebook, banned the distribution of news content across its Canadian platforms so it wouldn’t have to pay Canadian media, as per Canadian law. This censorship devastated independent Canadian media and lowered political literacy; two-thirds of Canadians are reportedly unaware of the news ban and still think they are receiving credible news. Meanwhile, Meta capitulated to Trump’s war on what he terms the “radical left” by announcing major changes to its platforms: upping political content, removing fact-checkers, and rolling back moderation on things like hate speech and conspiracy culture posts.
Musk, who has been accused of potentially leading an American coup, is also meddling in politics around the world. He endorsed Germany’s far-right party, AfD (Alternative für Deutschland), said he would fund British far-right ringleader Tommy Robinson, and recently set his sights on Canada as his next political target with support for Poilievre—though his involvement in Canadian politics is being challenged by Member of Parliament Charlie Angus, who called for an investigation. It’s worth noting that Musk also owns two-thirds of internet satellites, giving him power over much of the world’s internet access.
Moreover, since he took ownership of X, the platform has reportedly amplified right-wing and far-right users and posts. One European Union official described X as the biggest source of fake news and disinformation across all social media platforms. Though X might be the worst offender, it certainly isn’t an anomaly. Tech platforms in recent months have amplified conspiracy culture that increasingly frames climate action as government overreach, fueling resistance to desperately needed environmental policies. This generates fear, but also more engagement and profits for the platforms.
As bleak as this situation is, now is a time for radical imagination and hope. Just as I found my way out of the dark rabbit hole, others can too. But it requires courage and a new approach: one focused on community engagement and democratic participation.
We have more in common with each other than the tech giants would have us believe. We are united among class lines, by our collective humanity, our shared planet, and our universal desires for freedom, happiness, and belonging. While in-person conversations with ideologically like-minded people can reinforce shared beliefs, having conversations with people who think differently matters just as much—if not more.
“While in-person conversations with ideologically like-minded people can reinforce shared beliefs, having conversations with people who think differently matters just as much—if not more.”
I know this to be true. In-person conversations and hands-on experiences are what ultimately shifted my worldview. During my undergraduate degree as an anthropology major and first-generation student, I remember holding an ancient hominin skull in my hands while inspecting scientific literature that rebuked my childhood teaching that evolution wasn’t real. In classrooms, I could debate and discuss lessons with students. In lecture halls, I had access to the words of professors and scientists with decades of experience and anecdotes. I began to see that there are many ways of existing in the world.
One of the first things we can do to create and cultivate these conversations is to find a physical space to be together. Third places, a term used to describe a community space in which people can spend time outside of home and work, can be revolutionary for genuine dialogue about the climate emergency and community organizing. But funding cuts and a tough market have forced many third places to close down. Today, community-led groups seeking to open a space often must choose between submitting to the confines of the nonprofit industrial complex or attempting to self-fund. As a solution, it’s integral that foundations and benefactors step up to fund grassroots groups that can then open third places with no strings attached.
Creating gathering points for people across the political spectrum is extremely valuable. Open forums in neutral locations—from churches and community centers to libraries and parks— foster opportunities for people to actively participate in shaping climate solutions or to simply have conversations with people of differing viewpoints. These third places give us the chance to re-humanize one another and learn about lived experiences that are not our own.
In-person spaces like these facilitate learning and the exploration of new ideas; and they were key to my transformation. Connecting with people and having conversations helped to shift me away from conspiracy culture and toward a curiosity about science and justice.
This idea is not new or revolutionary. It’s a return to something we humans have had since the beginning of our societies: a common place to exist in community with others.
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I Believed Climate Change Was a Lie. Here’s What Changed My Mind.
