Teaching in a Time of Climate Collapse: From “An Education in Hope” to a Praxis of Critical Hope

Abstract

Given recent geopolitical shifts to abandon an organized response to the climate crisis and the projections of the 2023 IPCC report, scientists have confirmed that climate collapse is likely, if not inevitable. In this perspective paper, we pose two questions: What is the job of a sustainability educator at this point in the climate crisis? What good is hope if the object of hopefulness is not achievable? We examine these questions through a literature review of climate emotions and hope discourse in sustainability education, narrowing our focus to critical hope. Building on existing research, we contend that a sustainability educator’s job in this phase of climate collapse is to convey a praxis of critical hope, which attends to the following realms: (a) the core sustainability curriculum, (b) engagement with emotions and coping skills, (c) the interrogation of complex systems and embedded injustices, and (d) pathways and strategies for organized action. The discussion presented herein analyzes student reflections from a higher-education sustainability course that integrated the principles of critical hope into applied projects. Ultimately, a praxis of critical hope might allow sustainability educators to encounter the dire realities of the climate crisis while sustaining themselves and their students through a long-term labor of love.

1. Introduction

Sustainability educators face a conundrum in the midst of climate collapse: what if to teach truthfully is to break hearts? What if teaching with the most current and rigorous research is tantamount to inducing hopelessness, anger, and anxiety? Brazilian activist Paulo Freire was widely known for his social justice efforts with marginalized communities and his life’s work in critical approaches to education. The job of an educator, he said, is to offer “a kind of education in hope” [1] (p. 3). But the global realities that he faced as a pedagogue from the 1950s to 1980s were unique to that time, and from a climate justice perspective, hope was still a viable position; positive outcomes were, to some extent, still attainable. In 2025, given the research and projections of the 2023 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) report, geopolitical shifts to abandon an organized response, and the irreparable loss of biodiversity, scientists have confirmed many fears that climate collapse is likely, if not inevitable [2]. In this paper, we pose a pair of interlinked questions: What is the job of a sustainability educator now that we have reached this point in the climate crisis? What good is hope if the object of hopefulness is no longer achievable? Moreover, given that a large contingent of climate educators are also scientists and that positivist epistemologies tend to demand emotional objectivity, how likely are sustainability educators to have learned or practiced the skills and literacies of emotional engagement that are so valuable in pedagogy? As Schipper [3] states, “Some argue that climate change researchers speaking up about their worries on climate change constitutes activism, which is seen as inappropriate for scientists because it will bias research” (p. 1010).

We contend that a sustainability educator’s job in this phase of climate collapse is not to offer an education in hope; in fact, educators who understand the research and probable outcomes are likely to struggle themselves with low levels of hope, high levels of eco-anxiety, eco-grief, and anger [4,5,6]. Despite this, hope, writ large, has an indispensable role to play in collaboration with other complex emotions that are shown to drive action [7,8,9,10,11,12]. We further argue that it is not a sustainability educator’s job simply to convey the course curriculum that explicates some aspect of the climate or environment. Instead, the job of a sustainability educator has, by necessity, grown and transformed to becoming an educator in the praxis of critical hope. A praxis of critical hope attends to the following four realms: (a) the core curriculum related to environment, climate, or sustainability topics, (b) pedagogical and curricular engagement with emotions and necessary coping skills, (c) the interrogation of complex systems and embedded injustices, and (d) pathways and strategies for organized action through an equity- and justice-focused lens.

In this perspective paper, we begin with an introductory exploration of the questions posed above, outlining some of the nuanced challenges facing contemporary sustainability educators, especially in light of key findings from the 2023 IPCC report. We refer to sustainability and climate educators in higher-education contexts as teachers who focus on issues of the climate or environment across a range of disciplines, including but not limited to natural and applied sciences, sustainable development, social sciences, and humanities. A review of key climate data is presented with two intentions: first, to illustrate the current environmental context, based on scientific research findings, and second, to invite an engagement with emotion-laden responses to such data. The following section offers an analysis of the recent literature at the nexus of climate emotions, social justice, and sustainability education. We then narrow the focus of our analysis to the discourse of hope and elucidate specific characteristics of a praxis of critical hope. In order to orient our concept in practice, the subsequent section offers a discussion of reflections and evaluation data from a sustainability course that integrated the principles of critical hope and engaged students in a semester-long critical hope applied project. Based on these experiences and the available research of the past several years, our future directions emphasize a vision for how teachers and students can build a praxis of critical hope. A student or educator who has developed a praxis of critical hope is an adaptive problem solver who can encounter the dire realities of the climate crisis with the ability to manage complex emotions, identify systemic roots of injustice, and build community networks for action.

2. Literature Review

What is the role of a sustainability educator at this point in the climate crisis?

What good is hope when the object of hope is no longer achievable?

Sustainability educators today face a dual dilemma in the midst of a polycrisis: they must provide a rigorous, high-quality education on the climate crisis to their students while also ensuring their own personal sustainment in the profession. At times, these two purposes can conflict with one another when the exploration of environmental data induces despair, anger, or fatigue in educators or students—sometimes with the outcome of inaction or burnout. Conversely, the understandable instinct to preserve one’s mental health by avoiding news stories and research papers can amount to avoidance or outright ignorance of important climate issues. This leaves many climate educators wondering whether it is even possible to remain attuned to climate research while also sustaining a level of mental health required to remain productive. This is exacerbated by growing acknowledgement that the climate crisis most vividly and imminently threatens marginalized populations and those living in poverty [2]. It has become clear that the expectations of sustainability educators are expanding beyond disciplinary knowledge.

To be most effective, sustainability educators must simultaneously understand and convey to students the scientific data, the geopolitical and justice-oriented implications of the climate crisis, and the coping skills and emotional literacy that are essential to the long-term sustainment of climate action. The literature review that follows examines each of these realms.

2.1. A Rapidly Closing Window

In March of 2023, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released its sixth assessment report summarizing the state of anthropogenic climate change and its impacts and risks. The report confidently conveys that climate change is a direct threat to human well-being and planetary health, stating that “There is a rapidly closing window of opportunity to secure a liveable and sustainable future for all” [2] (p. 24). Research findings detail rapid and widespread changes across Earth’s systems, resulting in more severe and far-reaching weather and climate extremes, losses, and damages to both nature and humans than predicted in past reports [2]. According to the IPCC, the risks, consequences, and pace of climate change are higher than what was reported in the fifth report and will be multiple times higher than what we observe today. Future risks will rapidly increase with every fraction of a degree of warming, and climatic and non-climatic risks will interact, cascade, and compound [2]. While policies, laws, and international treaties such as the Paris Agreement have been implemented to reduce and limit greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions, current mitigation efforts are falling far below what is necessary to limit warming to 1.5 °C during the 21st century [2,13,14]. This is the threshold at which scientists warn of major climate tipping points including breakdowns of ocean circulation systems, the collapse of coral reef systems, the thawing of the boreal permafrost, and the collapse of ice sheets—all of which will have catastrophic implications for humanity [15]. Without drastic action, estimates put likely warming at between 2.2 and 3.5 °C by 2100. In some cases, limits to adaptation have already been reached and there is growing evidence of maladaptation. Climate change impacts in some areas are so severe that there is no longer the possibility of mitigation or adaptation. This will result in permanent losses and damages—particularly for highly vulnerable people and ecosystems [2,13,14]. Such statements in the IPCC report comprise the initial motivation for this article and the existential question of how hope is conceptualized when a hopeful outcome is unlikely and—increasingly—impossible.

Not only does it behoove a sustainability educator to understand the scientific data contained in the IPCC report, but there are also highly political demands being made of educators. Despite the warnings of the IPCC, there is a growing concern that worldwide shifts toward populism and nationalism will slow progress on climate change [16,17]. On 20 January 2025, immediately after his inauguration as the 47th president of the United States (US), Donald Trump withdrew the US from the Paris Agreement as well as “any agreement, pact, accord, or similar commitment made under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change” [18]. Recent news reports suggest that while member countries largely claim that they will continue with international cooperation efforts despite the US exit, most countries are not meeting their Paris Agreement target goals [13,19]. Between 2022 and 2024, global emissions rose by 1.4 percent, and GHG emissions across the G20 countries increased in 2023, accounting for 77 percent of global emissions [13]. In addition, “collectively the NDC [nationally determined contribution] targets of the G20 are far from the average global percentage reductions required to align with 2 °C and 1.5 °C scenarios” [13] (p. xiii).

Meanwhile, many countries are showing signs of wavering on climate goals. As of mid-2025, only 15 countries met the most recent Paris Agreement deadline to submit NDC plans, outlining how each country will reduce their contribution to global temperature rise [19]. Countries that missed the most recent deadline represent 83 percent of global emissions and nearly 80 percent of the world’s economy [20]. For example, in the United Kingdom, Secretary of State Kemi Badenoch stated that it is “impossible” for the country to meet its 2050 net-zero target goals due to economic and geopolitical concerns [21]. The European Union (EU) has delayed its 2040 climate target due to pushback from populist-leaning member governments [22], with some reports claiming that the EU is weakening its climate goals in response [23]. In the name of raising funds for a green energy transition, Brazil recently approved joining the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC+) and President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva is pushing for increased oil exploration [24]. Similarly, in the private sector, oil giant British Petroleum (BP) announced that it is dropping USD five billion of green energy investment while increasing investment in oil and gas by USD ten billion—representing a 60 percent jump in production [25].

Given the research and projections described in this section, it is unsurprising that those well versed in the data face a crisis of their own—one that is both emotional and existential.

2.2. The Burden of Knowing

Complex climate emotions have become so pervasive in recent decades that an entirely new taxonomy of psychological and emotional terminology has arisen. Climate emotions include eco-anxiety, climate anxiety, eco-grief, environmental distress, climate change distress, eco-angst, and solastalgia (solastalgia is a relatively new term that describes the distress produced by ecological change in one’s home environment; the term is not exclusive to climate change [26]), to name only a few [26,27,28,29]. A 2022 systematic review of the literature on eco-anxiety found that there is no standardized definition of the term [30]. Most psychometric studies show that eco-anxiety is typically a non-pathological response to environmental degradation, though it can negatively influence subjective well-being [31,32,33,34,35,36]. A study by Pihkala [37] found that guilt, grief, trauma, despair, anger, and solastalgia have the strongest links to definitions of eco-anxiety. The term climate anxiety is often used interchangeably with eco-anxiety; however, some researchers suggest that the term is more appropriately a form of eco-anxiety grounded in an understanding of anthropogenic climate change [37]. Despite the lack of clarity around terminology, there is a growing body of evidence that concerns about environmental degradation and anthropogenic climate change are resulting in emotional distress—particularly among youth, young adults, and marginalized groups such as indigenous communities [38]. Interestingly, the second working group for the sixth IPCC report has called for a greater understanding of well-being and how climate emotions are affecting communities around the world—indicating the growing recognition of this issue [38].

In recent years, many studies have found that climate anxiety is prevalent among young people and is negatively affecting their mental health [39,40,41,42,43,44,45,46]. A study by Hickman et al. [34] found, in a survey across ten countries including 10,000 students aged 16–25, that 59 percent of youth were very or extremely worried about climate change and 84 percent were moderately worried. The degree of climate emotions was determined by pre-existing categories based on a previous study by the authors [34]. In the same study, half of the respondents reported experiencing characteristics of climate anxiety, and “more than 45% of respondents said their feelings about climate change negatively affected their daily life and functioning, and many reported a high number of negative thoughts about climate change” [34] (p. e863). More recently, a study by Lewandowski et al. [36] which included nearly 16,000 students across all 50 US states investigated the emotional, functional, and psychological experiences of youth in relation to climate change and the governmental response. The researchers developed scales to measure each construct, and the resulting categories were developed and validated after obtaining responses from the participants. The study showed that 85 percent of youth aged 16–25 were at least moderately worried about climate change, 58 percent were very or extremely worried, 43 percent indicated that climate change impacted their mental health, and 38 percent reported that climate change negatively affected their daily life. These studies also show that climate anxiety is linked to the perception that governments are not adequately responding to climate change and to a perception of betrayal by adults [34,36,42].

As the impacts of climate change worsen, climate anxiety will continue to increase among youth—particularly as governments continue to fall behind on climate targets and promises [27,34,35,36]. Already, environmental degree students report higher levels of climate anxiety than their non-environmental undergraduate counterparts [32], as do those that work in environmental and climate-related fields [47,48]. Research shows that when climate anxiety is overwhelming, it can lead to eco-paralysis, defined as “an experience of helplessness and inability to take meaningful action due to the overwhelming scale and scope of environmental problems” [49] (p. 531). This is particularly relevant when an individual believes that they do not have the agency to act to bring about change [44,50,51]. Conversely, some climate distress is shown in the literature to motivate individuals to action, as evidenced by youth involvement in climate activism [52,53]. In this case, the stress response from climate anxiety can lead to adaptive and pro-environmental behaviors and collective action [7,8,9,10]. Some studies show that climate anger, specifically, leads to climate action [8,54].

While there is a large and growing body of evidence on how students experience climate emotions, there are very few studies that focus on how climate educators and climate scientists are grappling with these same emotions. In our review of the literature, we found scant research on this topic, particularly since the 2023 IPCC report was released. Those studies that do exist suggest that climate educators and scientists also experience complex climate emotions, including climate anxiety [5,6,55,56,57,58,59,60,61,62,63,64,65]. A 2021 study that focused on IPCC researchers revealed that out of 92 respondents (making up a 40 percent response rate), over 60 percent were experiencing climate anxiety or grief, and 88 percent said that they expect to see catastrophic impacts of climate change in their lifetimes [64]. Additionally, 60 percent of the respondents stated that they expect the planet to warm by 3 °C by 2100. While the study is quite revealing, there remains a pervasive issue that scientists tend not to discuss and adequately process the emotional toll of their work. Moreover, research shows that deep awareness of the climate crisis is putting scientists at risk of mental health challenges [3,57,62,65,66]. As Schipper et al. [3] state, “…climate researchers now also bear the burden of foresight of seeing what losses and challenges lie ahead, and the curse of knowing that these could have been avoided” (p. 1010).

The underlying epistemology of natural science-focused climate research is grounded in ideals of political and ideological neutrality. This results in a taboo toward climate scientists expressing emotions about the crisis, with any emotionalized climate communication and discussion about climate activism being seen as biased [3]. In addition, the politicization of climate change has reinforced the view that scientific facts must be separated from emotion [43]. Many scientists emotionally distance themselves from climate emotions through compartmentalizing their professional and personal lives [56,63]. Others use avoidance and what Calabria et al. [55] term “protective distancing,” a form of denial that allows scientists to avoid eco-paralysis. In addition, while scientists may use coping mechanisms that distance them from climate emotions, this requires significant mental energy which may lead to increased burnout, a loss of engagement, and inaction [56]. Conversely, some climate experts use problem-focused and emotion-focused coping grounded in active responses including direct involvement in climate action and seeking emotional support from colleagues [60].

The few studies focused on the emotional state of climate educators show similar results, but with the added burden of educators having to attune to the emotions of students as well as their own [5,6,7]. Climate educators lack the support and resources they need to engage with students on climate grief and anxiety, and many state that they are concerned about their ability to help students cope with their climate emotions [6,7,32]. Studies also show that climate educators often avoid engaging with both their own and students’ climate emotions or restrict their emotions to those that are positive leaning [5,67]. The lack of engagement with climate-related emotions in the classroom is driven in part by the perception that emotions (and negative emotions in particular) should be avoided in the classroom, the vulnerability required on the part of educators, and the difficulties that educators face in engaging with their own climate anxiety [5,48,68]. As Skilling et al. [5] point out, by limiting climate emotions to only those that are positive, students do not become attuned to their own climate anxiety, rendering them “…unable to engage with the uncomfortable emotions associated with current environmental realities, or to harness the potential of ‘negative’ emotions for generating the required radical change” (p. 658). Research suggests that focusing only on positive emotions and optimism is no longer realistic; rather, educators must accept and engage with negative emotions [67,68,69,70,71,72]. This information only reinforces our perspective that an education in hope is not enough, and that a praxis of critical hope can offer a more holistic approach to dire environmental circumstances.

The data outlined above clearly elucidate a growing emphasis on climate emotions within sustainability education. However, research also indicates an uncomfortable tension between impartial scientific research on the one hand (e.g., the data in the IPCC report) and pedagogical frameworks that acknowledge the deeply emotional and political dimensions of the climate crisis and sustainability education on the other hand. Both realms carry immense importance simultaneously and offer a foundation from which sustainability educators can build out a praxis of critical hope in their teaching practice.

2.3. The Discourse of Hope in Sustainability Education

Within sustainability studies and critical approaches to education, hope has been extensively critiqued for its potential to perpetuate passivity and uphold colonial and capitalist structures [71,72,73,74,75,76]. In climate discourse—particularly in education and the media—hopeful messaging can conflict with scientific evidence, risking the dilution of urgency and undermining necessary transformation toward sustainability [45]. However, when framed critically, hope remains central to research and scholarship in sustainability-oriented movements. Macy’s [77] concept of “Active Hope” reframes it as a practice of engagement—acknowledging ecological realities while mobilizing for systemic change. Solnit [78] similarly conceptualizes hope as an intentional, collective force that reclaims climate narratives through historical insight and social mobilization. Elin Kelsey’s Hope Matters [79] contributes a sustainability pedagogy rooted in solution-based storytelling, which counters ecological despair by amplifying successful interventions.

Strategic orientations to hope are also reflected in Christina Figueres’ [80] concept of “stubborn optimism,” which emphasizes perseverance as essential for sustaining long-term climate action. Her popular podcast, Outrage and Optimism, is co-hosted by Tom Rivett Carnac and Paul Dickinson and—as the title might suggest—offers an important form of knowledge mobilization that allows listeners to uphold both the bad news stories and the potential for imaginative and successful interventions. maree-brown’s [81] “emergent strategy,” grounded in systems thinking and biomimicry, aligns with regenerative principles by advocating decentralized, adaptive change inspired by natural patterns and Black feminist thought. A vocal critic of naive optimism and hope within the climate movement, Ayana Elizabeth Johnson [82] emphasizes the importance of visioning just climate futures as a method for driving grounded, participatory sustainability work. In contrast, Marvel [83] contends that while hope can be motivating, it is courage and decisive action that sustainability efforts truly demand. Klein [73,84,85] further argues that climate hope must be grounded in resistance to extractive economies, calling for systemic transformation aligned with equity and environmental justice.

Indigenous and decolonial perspectives further deepen the sustainability discourse on critical approaches to hope. LaDuke [86] connects hope to Indigenous sovereignty and relational responsibilities to land and water, offering a model of resistance rooted in ecological stewardship. Lear’s [87] notion of “radical hope” emphasizes resilience and adaptive transformation in the face of profound uncertainty, aligning with sustainability’s call for new ways of being and relating. Across these diverse and critically informed contributions, hope is understood not as passive optimism but as a generative, mobilizing force. It emerges as a strategic and relational practice—central to systems change, ecological resilience, and socio-environmental justice.

2.4. What Good Is Hope? Critical Hope as Transformative Praxis

Building on scholarship that has integrated critical and evidence-based approaches to hopefulness within sustainability and climate action, this section shifts to a description of what it means to enact a praxis of critical hope. A praxis of critical hope addresses the following four realms for both the students and the educator: (a) the core curriculum related to environment, climate, or sustainability topics, (b) critical pedagogical and curricular engagement with emotions and necessary coping skills, (c) the interrogation of complex systems and embedded injustices, and (d) pathways and strategies for organized action through an equity- and justice-focused lens. While hope is frequently identified as a necessary precondition for envisioning future climate possibilities, its capacity to engender tangible transformation is contingent upon many additional factors, including commitment, discipline, skill, and the presence of enabling social structures. Hope, in isolation, may function as a motivational affect or symbolic orientation, but it can lack operative efficacy when it is not tethered to deliberate and informed action. In the work of sustainability education through critical hope, the notion of praxis—a concept rooted in classical and critical philosophy—supplies the essential mechanism through which hope is transformed into meaningful climate action.

2.4.1. Critical Hope

Critical hope offers both a theoretical framework and a practical orientation rooted in critical pedagogy [1], emphasizing justice, equity, and transformative action. First introduced by Paulo Freire, critical hope is a politically conscious, action-driven practice that resists passive optimism. It is grounded in community engagement and oriented toward the transformation of structural injustices through imagination, dialogue, and sustained collective effort [1]. Contemporary scholars have expanded its relevance across multiple disciplines. In educational contexts, Bozalek et al. [88] highlight critical hope’s role in fostering socially engaged pedagogies, while Zembylas [76] frames it as a pedagogical response to historical trauma and structural inequality. Zembylas also distinguishes critical hope from “naive hope”—an uncritical belief in improvement detached from political and material realities—and instead emphasizes empathetic, dialogical engagement with discomfort and complexity. Duncan-Andrade [89] offers a nuanced typology, critiquing “hokey hope” and “mythical hope” for masking inequity through neoliberal narratives of individual resilience and meritocracy. His conception of critical hope acknowledges suffering while affirming the potential for meaningful change through collective action. Grain and Lund [90] situate critical hope as a conceptual tool for educators and activists, particularly during times of despair. In her book, Critical Hope, Grain [91] deepens this framework by drawing upon feminist and critical anti-racist scholars and asserting that difficult emotions such as grief and anger are not barriers to hope, but essential collaborators and co-conspirators. She argues that critical hope is rooted in emotional honesty and embraces the full spectrum of affective experience as a catalyst for change.

Critical hope has recently gained traction in climate justice and sustainability scholarship as well; for example, Warford [92] links critical hope to climate justice, advocating for its application in sustainability education and applied sciences. Staddon [93] explores its utility in human geography, where it serves as a counter-narrative to despair in the face of socio-ecological crises. Mahoney and Grain [94] examine how specific participatory climate action research projects are enactments of critical hope that are vital to the sustainment of the climate justice movement in Canada. Ojala argues that critical hope is key to transgressive and transformative learning in climate change education [95]. In sum, critical hope emerges as a strategic, emotionally attuned, and justice-oriented framework that supports transformative engagement in sustainability and climate action.

2.4.2. Praxis

Praxis as a concept has deep philosophical roots and has long been distinguished from mere practice, though it necessarily involves elements of the latter. Marcus Aurelius (120–180 CE), for instance, conceptualized praxis as a political and ethical mode of existence—a way of being that centers responsibility to the collective. In contemporary discourses, praxis is often defined as a morally committed and reflexive form of action that may be oriented toward both personal and societal transformation. According to Aristotle’s Nicomachean ethics, this dual emphasis on self-awareness and moral intentionality distinguishes praxis from technical activity (poiesis) or contemplative knowledge (theoria) [96,97]. For Aristotle, action only becomes praxis when it is undertaken consciously, with full awareness of its implications for oneself and the broader community.

The philosophical lineage of praxis was further transformed in the work of Karl Marx, who emphasized its revolutionary and material dimensions. Marx framed praxis not simply as action, but as action with historical and material consequence. Praxis, for Marx, represents the dialectical synthesis of thought and action, where theory becomes meaningful only when actualized in efforts to reshape the world [98]. Building on this tradition, Paulo Freire articulated praxis as the dynamic interplay between critical reflection and committed action. In Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, praxis is described as a dialectical process through which individuals interrogate and name the conditions of their existence, while simultaneously working to transform those conditions [99]. For Freire, the act of reflection alone is insufficient; it must be linked to agency and activism directed toward justice and liberation.

Central to each of these philosophical articulations is the assertion that praxis is not merely about movement or activity, but about conscious, intentional, and collectively oriented transformation. Thus, hope—while necessary to address the climate crisis—must be anchored in praxis in order to become a catalyst for change. Without this integration, hope risks becoming inert or misdirected, susceptible to drifting away from its aspirational aims, instead reinforcing despair for our climate future. Thus, in terms of the climate crisis, a praxis of critical hope is a concept that entwines vision, reflection, ethical responsibility, political commitment, embodied experience, and historical consciousness. Arguably, such an approach pushes against established disciplinary and pedagogical norms of scientific neutrality within climate science, sustainability, and related fields. However, we argue that praxis embedded in critical hope is indispensable to any effort aimed at fostering just and regenerative climate futures.

3. Building a Praxis of Critical Hope in Sustainability Education: A Case Study in a Course on “Wicked Problems”

This section provides an illustrative example of what it might look like to build a praxis of critical hope in sustainability education. We explore reflections from students in an upper-level undergraduate course titled Wicked Problems of Sustainability, as a case study on the necessity of developing a praxis of critical hope in environmental sustainability and related fields. The focus of this course on the intractability of complex sustainability problems made it ideal for integrating critical hope as a core theme—particularly as climate change is considered a “super-wicked problem [100].” Thus, while the course focused on typical sustainability content, it was designed to be grounded in the principles of critical hope as developed by Grain [91]:

• Hope is necessary, but hope alone is not enough.
• Critical hope is not something you have; it is something you practice.
• Critical hope is messy, uncomfortable, and full of contradictions.
• Critical hope is intimately entangled with the body and the land.
• Critical hope requires bearing witness to social and historical trauma.
• Critical hope requires interruptions and invitations.
• Anger and grief have a seat at the table.

At the beginning of the course, students wrote an essay on their perceptions of hope in light of the climate crisis. Across the 20-student roster, every student expressed negative climate emotions including anxiety, anger, fear, despair, and hopelessness. In the words of the students,

I feel like the words “hope” and “future” contradict each other. Having real genuine hope for the future of the world seems impossible without being ignorant or misinformed, because last I checked, we’ve been nonstop causing incomprehensible damage to our planet since the dawn of civilization–so much that we are well past the point of no return in terms of permanent damage to the natural world.—Student Essay #1

I have a mixed perception of hope. I know about toxic positivity, and how positive or wishful thinking isn’t enough to result in real change. But on the other hand, hearing people say that they wish for things to be different just as I did makes me feel optimistic for the future. However, after that initial optimism, I think about everything that actually needs to happen for real change to take place, and I feel hopeless. I criticize my own hope as toxic positivity and worry that other people are falling into the same trap of unhelpful, unproductive hope. Then eventually something makes me hopeful again, and that cycle plays out over and over.—Student Essay #2

The pervasiveness of negative climate emotions in the student essays echoes the literature on youth’s emotional perceptions of the climate crisis—for those embedded in environmental fields in particular [32,39,40,41,42,43,44,45,46]. To develop students’ ability to engage with their climate emotions and to build their practice of hope, they were assigned a semester-long individual project in which they were required to (a) build their mental health coping skills and (b) get involved in direct environmental action. For the former, students selected from a list of recognized mental health coping practices (e.g., meditation, physical activity, art and music, time outdoors) and participated in these activities for a minimum amount of time each week. For direct action, students were required to get involved in an environmentally focused student organization or volunteer with a relevant organization for a minimum of eight hours over the semester. Students completed weekly check-ins and reflections on their activities. This project was grounded in three of Grain’s principles of critical hope including the following: (1) Hope is necessary but hope alone is not enough. (2) Critical hope is not something you have; it is something you practice. (7) Anger and grief have a seat at the table [91].

Two core components of Grain’s conceptualization of critical hope, grounded in Freire’s work, include consciousness raising and interrogating systems of oppression and inequality [1,92]. Grain integrates these concepts throughout her principles of critical hope, such as in the fifth principle: critical hope requires bearing witness to social and historical trauma [91] (p. 71). As Grain explains, “In critical hope, it is essential to bear witness to difficult knowledge because to turn away from it, particularly from a position of power or privilege, can constitute a willful ignorance or an acceptance of the status quo—admission by silence; permission by silence” [91] (p. 73). Early in the course, students were introduced to systems thinking and applied it as an approach to examine case studies of wicked problems in sustainability. This included interrogating how colonial and capitalist structures have resulted in ecological destruction and centering the lived experiences of racialized, marginalized, Indigenous, and Global South communities who are disproportionately experiencing the ravages of issues such as climate change.

At times, students would push back against difficult concepts, such as the idea of privilege. As one student stated in a weekly reflection, “I [am] having a difficult time wrapping my head around the concept of privilege… what if a minority grew up the same as me and has as many opportunities as me. Do I still have more privilege than them just because I am white?” (Critical Hope Weekly Reflection Student #1). As Grain explains in her third principle of critical hope, critical hope requires interruptions and invitations [91] (p. 75). Given that at least one student struggled with the concept of privilege, we as a class took a step back and had a deep discussion on privilege, thus providing space for everyone to examine their position, identity, and values more closely. As Grain explained in a similar experience with a student, “This student has encountered unwanted information that clashes with his view of the world, and he has the choice to either block it out completely or to do the labor of integrating it into his identity and worldview” [91] (p. 77).

At the midpoint of the semester, as students became more comfortable with systems thinking, they participated in a team project to investigate the sustainability of the food system within their university. This project was envisioned within Grain’s fourth principle of critical hope: critical hope is intimately entangled with the body and the land [91] (p. 51). The project components were created to ground students within an ecological system that they are a part of, and mirror processes of collective action. The students were tasked with examining the university’s overall sustainability plan and carbon footprint, as well as the specific contributions of the food system, such as the university’s management of food waste. In addition, the students conducted interviews with key stakeholders, created a map of the food system, and planned and facilitated participatory workshops with stakeholders. Throughout the project the students learned uncomfortable truths about the university food system and how it mirrors larger-scale sustainability problems. For example, they were shocked and angry to learn that the corporation that provides the university’s food is known to use prison labor, international students are paid less than others to work on campus, the student food pantry receives nearly zero funding—depending almost entirely on donations—and the university administration does not believe there is a food security problem on campus—despite evidence to the contrary. As one student stated,

After class I was pretty fired up. Something that really stood out to me was just how most of the stakeholders– aside from the administration/people in charge of campus dining– had shared sentiments about [corporation name]. I think many of the [interview] responses show that our campus food system works against students and is driven by money and not food security. Our class shared that the stakeholders have noticed the lack of food for specific cultural and dietary needs, restrictive rules against meal sharing, exploitation of international students for work, lack of funding for [the food pantry], which gives insight into where [the university] priorities are. All of these things show that students’ needs are not heavily considered; instead, profit takes the cake. It was really frustrating to hear that these issues are widely agreed upon in our [campus] community, yet there have not been steps to move away from [corporation name] or deeply investigate how we can do better.—Weekly Reflection, Student #2

The approach to this class was intended to not only teach students about sustainability, but also engage them in the development of a practice of critical hope. Through the semester projects, students developed their ability to cope with complex emotions and engage in environmental action—while examining sustainability from a systems and justice lens within the classroom. At the end of the semester, all twenty students described a transformation in their understanding of hope, shifting to a critical praxis of hope. As the students stated,

Throughout the project, my consistency and dedication were constantly challenged. Some weeks were particularly demanding, filled with coursework, work commitment, and personal responsibilities, leaving little time to engage with the project. These moments highlighted the importance of self-awareness in maintaining critical hope. I had to consciously remind myself of the purpose and long-term value of my activities… Critical hope required me to accept that setbacks are inevitable and to view them as opportunities for reflection and growth, rather than reasons to disengage… These experiences underscored that critical hope isn’t just about believing in better outcomes but actively working toward them through collaboration and sustained effort.—Critical Hope Final Report Student #3

My project changed my views on hope by showing me how to take action. I had known what toxic positivity was prior to this project, and I knew that simply hoping was generally unproductive. However, I did not know what the alternative was. This project showed me that there is another kind of hope, a kind that truly is helpful and productive. It showed me that it is okay to feel anger and all of those emotions associated with issues like climate change, and that anger is actually useful in propelling change forward. I know now that critical hope is a tool for looking at issues as a whole, instead of individual parts, and that doing so opens the door for real change.—Critical Hope Final Report Student #4

The student reflections and evaluation data from these courses illustrate several ways that learners engaged with three realms of a praxis of critical hope, including the curricular content related to sustainability, pedagogical interventions aimed at emotional engagement and coping skills, and a social justice lens that encourages students to identify and reflect upon power relations and the complex systemic origins of climate injustices. By welcoming and interrogating these emotions within the context of core curricular content, developing systems thinking skills, raising consciousness about systemic inequalities, and investigating pathways of action and resistance, the students completed a class on wicked (intangible) problems with a sense of empowerment. Based on our initial attempt to operationalize critical hope within the classroom, we propose the following key takeaways for sustainability educators to emphasize when guiding students through a praxis of critical hope:

Strong emotions are a reasonable response to the climate crisis. Instructors can benefit from engaging with these emotions in the classroom just as students must develop the capacity to engage with these emotions in their academic and professional development.

Different emotions can be co-conspirators for prompting action. Anger and grief are not intrinsically negative just as hope and joy are not intrinsically positive in the climate movement. When educators can help students encounter these co-existing emotions effectively, they can often work together for important transformational change.

Emotional responses and climate action approaches are power-laden, diverse, and identity-related. A student who has experienced systemic oppression, poverty, or trauma will likely respond differently to the climate crisis than a student who has maintained a sense of safety and security throughout their life. This diversity of emotional responses to the climate crisis is to be expected. Likewise, approaches to climate change action are embedded in the identity that an individual holds and their experiences (or lack of experiences) of structural inequalities. The classroom is a living laboratory for discussions about these differences and provides a space for students to integrate complex ideas and varying worldviews into their own identities.

Consciousness raising and systems thinking are complimentary approaches. As shown in the literature, the impacts of climate change are disproportionately experienced by racialized, marginalized, Indigenous, and Global South communities [2]. Centering the stories of these populations within colonial and capitalist structures and systems of oppression is essential to the development of a student’s critical consciousness, which is tied to their emotional response to the climate crisis. Coupling consciousness raising with an understanding of systems change processes empowers students to see that they have the power to both develop their individual self and change the systems that lead to the oppression of them and others.

Localizing systemic issues empowers students to situate and leverage climate emotions. While it is important for students to develop their critical consciousness and understand wider (e.g., global, national, and state; ecological, economic, social, and cultural) systems, it is equally important to situate the climate crisis in localized case studies. Connecting the global to the local allows students to locate themselves within the climate crisis and shows students that they can leverage their climate emotions into direct action.

4. Future Directions

This perspective paper serves to catalyze discourse on the praxis of critical hope as a paradigm shift within climate change education, research, and action. Based on the background research and literature review, the case study presented in this paper is a novel attempt at integrating the principles of critical hope as a foundational concept in an undergraduate-level course. This results in several pedagogical questions that have yet to be answered. (1) Importantly, the case study presented was a semester-long course that integrated the principles of critical hope throughout the course content and assignments. This enabled a deep engagement with critical hope as a concept and as praxis. Thus, is an in-depth approach necessary to result in the transformational change signaled in the case study? (2) Are there individual principles of critical hope, or operationalized lessons or activities that are more meaningful or impactful as standalone curricular components? (3) What aspects of critical hope can be integrated into courses that do not have the curricular capacity for an entirely new framework?

Similar pedagogical approaches that build a praxis of critical hope can benefit both students and educators who are grappling with the emotional burden of our current and future climate crisis. Recently, a small but growing body of literature has emerged providing supportive interventions, resources, and toolkits for those working in climate action spaces. For example, LaUra Schmidt, author of How to Live in a Chaotic Climate and co-founder of The Good Grief Network, outlines ten steps to resilience and empowerment amidst a climate emergency [101]. Similarly, Jennifer Atkinson and Sarah Jaquette Ray provide pedagogical approaches in their book The Existential Toolkit for Climate Justice Educators: How to Teach in a Burning World [102]. Such resources may provide a starting point for the development of a broader pedagogy in critical hope that may answer the questions posed above. However, it is important to note that educators, including those in higher education, are already burdened with many pressures and responsibilities. Recent research shows that university educators who teach about sustainability and climate change need professional development opportunities to expand beyond their disciplinary knowledge and to develop their pedagogy to include social–emotional approaches [47,59,103]. Similarly, higher-education institutions writ large must rethink their role in the climate crisis, at a minimum to provide an enabling environment in which faculty are supported in teaching as well as research and service [5,104].

The case study in this paper is presented as an illustration of the operationalization of critical hope in the classroom rather than as a research study. Multiple avenues of research are needed in order to ascertain the long-term efficacy and impacts of an education in critical hope. These include empirical studies and the development of associated tools for analysis (e.g., validated survey instruments); longitudinal studies that track deeper changes in identity, long-term behavior change, and transformation over time; and qualitative studies that investigate deep learning, areas of receptivity and resistance, and the perspectives of those from varying identities and backgrounds. In addition, while this paper focuses on higher education, research and pedagogical approaches that are appropriate to other education levels and contexts should be explored.

Finally, we hope to inspire discussion and discourse on the role of objectivity and neutrality in sustainability education and climate action. This is emotional work and the stakes are high. As shown in the literature review, those who work within the field of sustainability experience complex climate emotions that can result in burnout, eco-paralysis, protective distancing, and direct action, among others [55,56,57,63]. This is, in part, due to the lack of interrogation of climate emotions within the field and the pressure to remain unbiased and apolitical. The climate crisis is anything but apolitical. We contend that critical hope as a concept and praxis represents a potential epistemological paradigm shift within the field of sustainability that will better prepare sustainability professionals to address the emotional, political, and power-laden challenges that are and will be experienced during the climate crisis.

5. Conclusions

This paper began with an invocation of Brazilian educator and activist, Paulo Freire, who once wrote that “education must be an act of love, and thus, an act of courage” [105] (p. 34). More than fifty years later, we extend his teachings to the issue that looms largest for sustainability educators: “[Climate] education must be an act of love, and thus, an act of courage.” The scientific evidence is clear that we are moving past a 1.5 °C future, and there is little indication that the global community will mobilize to act in time to avoid catastrophic climate collapse. Climate scientists, educators, and students are already showing signs of emotional distress related to the climate crisis. In addition, the paradigm of emotional and scientific neutrality, particularly in the classroom, does not allow students to build the knowledge, skills, and attitudes they will need to address the climate crisis in a just and equitable way. Our pedagogy must shift to allow us, as climate activist adrienne maree brown states, to “… fall as if we are holding a child to our chest” [106] (p. 253).

With these challenges in mind, this perspective paper has examined two related questions: What is the job of a sustainability educator now that we have reached this point in the climate crisis? What good is hope when the object of hopefulness is no longer achievable? While we have endeavored to thoroughly respond to the first question through the literature review and by building out a praxis of critical hope as a potential framework for sustainability educators, we are left with the second, as-yet-unanswerable question moving forward. It is a question that is both perplexing and painful in its asking—and one that climate scientists, educators, and activists around the world are grappling with. As climate activist Tim DeChristopher states, “It’s too late—which means there’s more to fight for than ever” [107] (p. 41). Every increment of a degree of warming reduced or avoided could save a species, a biome, a culture, or a people [2]. Every just, democratic, and timely action taken can slow climate change, mitigate the damage, and help us to adapt [106] (p. 231). By extension, every scientist, student, and professional that develops a praxis of critical hope will be better positioned to confront the climate crisis not with despair, but with a deep sense of purpose—to hold space for grief, to cultivate resilience, and to fight for what still can be saved.

Hope is not intrinsically “good”, and its capacity to affect meaningful climate action is only as robust as its capacity for “interruptions and invitations” [91]: to interrupt and transform harmful systems that are based on exploitation and extraction; and to invite the vision and actions that might sustain ecosystems and people who rely on the survival of this planet. Sustainability educators have a vital role to play in the cultivation of such interruptions and invitations, and a praxis of critical hope might allow educators to encounter the dire realities of the climate crisis while sustaining themselves and their students through this long-term labor of love.