We live in a world where information never stops flowing. It arrives as breaking news alerts, viral tweets, endless headlines, short videos, and shareable posts, filling every quiet moment with something that demands our attention. We scroll through it on our phones in the morning, absorb it during lunch, and refresh it again before bed. But here’s the unsettling truth: not everything we see is real, and even less of it is reliable. Some of it is deliberately designed to deceive, crafted by people or machines with a purpose far beyond simply informing us. Some of it is generated by artificial intelligence, fabricated in seconds and polished to look entirely authentic. From the outright rejection of climate science to the subtler, more respectable-sounding forms of greenwashing, disinformation has moved from being a nuisance of the digital age to a serious threat to how we understand the world. It shapes elections, undermines public health, and delays urgent action on the climate crisis. Understanding what we are dealing with, and learning how to spot it, is no longer just a nice skill to have. It has become essential to navigating modern life without being manipulated.
To make sense of this, we first need to be clear about what we are actually talking about. Disinformation is not the same as misinformation, although the two are often confused. Disinformation is false, fabricated, or deliberately manipulated information created with the intention to deceive. It is not an accident or a misunderstanding; it is designed to mislead. Misinformation, on the other hand, is false or misleading information that is shared without any intention to deceive. Someone might pass along a scary story because they genuinely believe it is true, not because they are trying to fool anyone. Both are harmful, but disinformation is the more dangerous because it is engineered with purpose. And in recent years, artificial intelligence has made it vastly more powerful. AI bots are software programs that imitate human behavior online. They can generate content, post on social media, chat with real people, and operate at a scale no human ever could. AI tools can create realistic-looking fake articles, fabricated images, and even deepfakes of respected experts saying things they never said. Bots can amplify these false messages across networks, making them look popular and credible, especially during critical moments like elections or international climate summits. The result is a media environment where lies can spread faster than facts, and where the line between what is real and what is manufactured becomes harder to see every day.
One of the most important frameworks for understanding climate disinformation comes from Michael Mann, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania. Mann has identified five key forms of climate disinformation, and the first two are downplaying and delay. Downplaying is the art of minimizing the crisis. It shows up in comments like “it’s not that bad,” “climate change has always happened,” or “the planet will be fine.” This kind of messaging is dangerous because it creates complacency. It dulls the public’s sense of urgency, slows down policy action, and makes the problem seem less immediate than it truly is. But the scientific evidence tells a very different story. The last decade was the warmest on record, and global temperatures continue to rise year after year as greenhouse gases accumulate in the atmosphere. In a single recent year, there were more than one hundred and fifty separate incidents of extreme weather around the world, with major consequences for over a hundred million people. Downplaying asks us to look away from these facts, to convince ourselves that everything is normal, and to carry on as if there were no emergency. Delay is a close cousin, but it is more subtle. Delay acknowledges that climate change is real, but argues that action can wait. It offers excuses like “we should wait until the technology improves,” “let us not rush into drastic policies,” “innovation will solve this eventually,” or “we need more research before we act.” This is denial in slow motion. It gives the appearance of concern while justifying inaction, allowing emissions to continue rising and shrinking the window of opportunity for meaningful change. Delay also means that governments and communities are not preparing for the changes already underway, from sea level rise to more frequent heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, floods, and storms. Many countries, including the United Kingdom, are not even planning for the impacts that are already arriving, let alone the ones that are coming.
The next two forms of disinformation are deflection and division, and they are often used together to great effect. Deflection shifts attention away from the systemic changes needed and points fingers in other directions. You might hear someone say that individuals need to do more, or that we should stop blaming companies, or that until big polluters act, nothing we do matters. You might hear questions like “aren’t there more urgent problems to focus on?” or the familiar refrain “what about China?” This kind of deflection is designed to divert energy away from collective action and structural change. It stalls progress and splits public support into confused, frustrated fragments. The science, however, is clear that the entire global economy must be decarbonized, and that by around mid-century we must reach a point where no additional greenhouse gases are entering the atmosphere. Every country, every company, and every sector has to change, and it has to happen quickly. Deflection prevents that by making the problem feel overwhelming and impossible to address together. Division goes even further by turning climate action into a cultural or political wedge. It is the language of “us versus them.” You might hear phrases like “climate change is just a leftist agenda,” “scientists are part of a global conspiracy,” “they want to take away your freedom in the name of climate,” or “net zero will make your energy prices go up.” The goal is to create distrust in science, in institutions, and in each other. Division fuels tribalism and makes cooperation nearly impossible at the exact moment we need it most. The fossil fuel industry, for example, helped invent the idea of the carbon footprint as a way to blame individual consumers instead of acknowledging that the problem is deeply tied to the global supply of energy. The newest version of this approach blames climate scientists themselves for failing to communicate clearly enough, as if the problem were not the overwhelming power of the industries that profit from continued inaction.
The fifth form of disinformation is doomism, and it is perhaps the most insidious because it masquerades as realism. Doomism promotes the idea that the climate crisis is already beyond saving, that it is too late to do anything meaningful. It whispers that we have passed the tipping point, that the planet is doomed no matter what we do, and that there is no point in trying. Why bother? Nothing we do matters. This message is paralyzing. It fills people with despair and hopelessness, and it discourages action just as effectively as outright denial. If the situation is hopeless, then there is no reason to vote for climate policies, join a movement, or make changes in our own lives. Doomism hands victory to the status quo by convincing the rest of us to give up before we have even really tried. Yet the truth is far more hopeful. There are so many positive solutions available right now, not just in the distant future. These solutions do not just reduce greenhouse gas emissions; they also make people’s lives better in real, tangible ways. A global shift to renewable energy creates local energy security, lowers energy costs over time, and dramatically reduces the dangerous air pollution that comes from burning fossil fuels, pollution that harms our lungs and shortens lives. Moving toward more plant-based diets improves human health, reduces healthcare costs, and helps stop deforestation. These are not impossible dreams. They are practical, existing options that communities and nations are already beginning to embrace. Doomism ignores all of this because despair is easier to sell than hope. But hope, backed by action, is the only force strong enough to overcome the crisis.
So how do we protect ourselves from all of this? The most powerful antidote is critical thinking, and there are certain red flags that can help us recognize disinformation before it gets a hold on us. If a post is designed to provoke outrage or fear, take a moment before reacting. Emotion is often used deliberately to bypass our rational minds. When something makes us angry or terrified, we are much more likely to share it without thinking.Another warning sign is pressure. If a message insists that we share it immediately, or spread it before it gets deleted, that is a classic manipulation tactic. Urgency is a tool, not a proof of importance. We should also ask ourselves whether the information cites reliable data or respected experts. If there are no credible sources, we should avoid amplifying it. If there is no transparency about who created the content, or the author is anonymous, that is reason to be cautious. And in a world where AI can generate convincing-looking articles and images, we need to be even more careful about verifying what we see before we believe it. The good news is that these skills can be learned, and they become easier with practice. Pause, verify, and think before you share. That small act of caution is itself a form of resistance against the forces that want to manipulate us. By staying curious, skeptical, and engaged, we can protect ourselves and each other from the poison of disinformation, and we can keep our attention focused on what truly matters: building a future that is honest, just, and sustainable for everyone.