Alan Rosen, AO, MBBS

Kind wishes and donations worldwide came to help Australian communities and wildlife affected by the extreme drought and uncontrollable bushfires. Indeed, Australians have become a warning beacon for the planet to recognize how factors associated with global warming can morph rapidly into runaway national emergencies.

Little attention, however, has addressed the extreme vulnerability of Australia’s First Nations people, the Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander communities, to the climate crisis. U.N. reports conclude that “Indigenous people with close emotional and ancestral ties to the land are also likely to be disproportionately affected by environmental change and extreme weather events.”¹

In fact, Indigenous peoples, whether living traditionally or assimilated, are among the first to be adversely affected by climate change. This is because, in part, of extreme poverty, inadequate housing, unemployment and other social determinants, transgenerational cultural losses of life and culture, dislocations, traumatic experiences of child removal, overrepresentation in the prison system, and chronic diseases already leading to dramatic disparities in life expectancy and other health outcomes.

Research confirms that rural and remote Aboriginal communities will be Australia’s first mass climate refugees. “Without action to stop climate change, people will be forced to leave their country and leave behind much of what makes them Aboriginal.”² This is because of hotter temperatures, poorly built and unstable homes more vulnerable to heat, and longer and drier droughts. Their communities, in fire-prone townships, are running out of water. Abject poverty severely limits their options, aggravated by government inaction because of ideological climate change denialism. And now we have the overlay of COVID-19 threatening these communities.³

Human pandemics are potentially more likely to occur with climate change. Pandemics also are more apt to be associated with population growth, human settlement encroaching on forests, increasing wild animal or intermediary vector contact, and growth in global travel.

Subsequently, our Indigenous communities have had the most to lose if COVID-19 is let loose in their midst. Spatial separation is difficult in overcrowded, multigenerational households. It is hard to keep your hands washed with soap where reliable water supply is sometimes only communal. Their health workers’ access to protective and lifesaving ICU equipment and expertise may be extremely limited or erratic.

Much of the population is classified as highly vulnerable to COVID-19 because of chronic health disorders (for example, cardiovascular, respiratory, and renal issues; diabetes, and suicidality) and preexisting much shorter life expectancies. Their health workers’ access to protective and lifesaving ICU equipment and expertise is extremely limited. There are fears that, if COVID-19 gains a foothold, they may lose a whole generation of revered elders, who often are also the last fluent tribal language speakers and carriers of life-enhancing cultural stories, traditions, and rites. More urban-living Indigenous families may yet have a rough time avoiding these ravages.

In Australia, COVID-19 has been largely held at bay so far by state and territory governments that have closed borders, restricted nonessential travel, and discouraged or excluded outsiders from visiting remote Indigenous communities wherever possible. There have been complaints that such restrictions occasionally had been applied in these communities in a heavy-handed way by police and other authorities, and may be resisted if enforced unilaterally. They will work only if applied with cultural sensitivity, full Indigenous community consultation, and collaboration. So far, COVID-19 infection rates have been kept very low, with no Indigenous deaths. In Brazil, by contrast, infections and deaths are more than double the national average, itinerant missionaries have only just been excluded from Amazonian tribal lands so far by independent judicial intervention, while loggers and miners come and go freely, as sources of contagion.⁴  Some Indigenous peoples in the United States have experienced among the highest COVID-19 infection and death rates in the country (for example, the Navajo Nation in New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah), amounting to catastrophic loss and grief.

"Black Lives Matter" marches protesting the filmed police killing of George Floyd in the USA have spread worldwide, in the wake of ultra-high rates of police brutality and killings with impunity of non-white individuals.

Many Australians, including considerable numbers of Indigenous people, marched here in sympathy, despite their infective risk and vulnerabilities. They were also protesting the excessive rates of Aboriginal imprisonment, deaths in custody, and police killings without consequences. Both internationally and here, there was an apparent sense of release of pent-up anger and frustrations at both these injustices and the extra susceptibility of poor and non-white people to severe illness, death and dire economic consequences because of the pandemic. It is a deceptive myth that "we are all in this together." So it is encouraging that there is also forming a widespread sense of collective purpose and determination to get governments to address these iniquities and inequities at last.*

I have worked as a community psychiatrist in Barkinje Aboriginal tribal lands of the Far West region of New South Wales (NSW) regularly for 35 years, much of this time while also leading Royal North Shore University General Hospital & Community Mental Health Services in Sydney. Barkinje translates as “River People,” but local media mainly talk about the impact of prolonged drought on farmers and ranchers, who certainly are deeply affected by it. However, the media rarely mention the calamitous impacts on Aboriginal communities. The drought effects are exacerbated by multinational corporate irrigators that divert and allegedly steal river water with tacit encouragement from ostensibly responsible government ministers. The rivers dry up into algal ponds with millions of bloated, rotting dead fish, and entire communities’ water supplies fail.

Researchers have reported on the mental health impacts of prolonged drought and diversion of river water on rural and remote indigenous communities throughout the state of NSW.⁵ We have heard Barkinje and neighboring Wiradjuri people say, “if the land is sick, we are sick,” and, “if the river dries up, there’s nowhere to meet.” Fishing, a popular recreational activity and source of nutrition is now denied to these communities. Unlike farmers, they receive no governmental exceptional circumstance compensation payments during droughts. Instead, they lose their farming jobs, so there is no disposable income and loss of capacity to travel to connect to their extended kinship system and cultural roots (e.g., for funerals or football matches) in other remote townships. Such droughts exacerbate wildfires, loss of fish and birdlife, some of which are sacred spiritual totems; dying of traditional “lifeblood” rivers, decimating precious ancient red-river gumtrees that line the shores; and irreversible damage to other sacred sites (e.g., melting ancient rock art).

So, loss of sustainable food sources, meaningful livelihood, and cultural and leisure pursuits could create an existential threat to Aboriginal identity. However, rural Indigenous communities also told us “whatever you do to us, we will survive and persist, as we have done in the past.”⁶ This is comparable with the tenacity and resilience of other ancient cultures that have suffered genocidal persecution and discrimination in the past, and have stubbornly regrown and persisted and regrown into the future.

They yearn to care for their lands, rivers, and seas of their traditions and upbringing, whether as “saltwater” coastal or “freshwater” inland peoples. They value their extended families, honor their elders and their collective wisdom, while also living in “two worlds.” They often encourage their children to get educated and pursue individualistic aspirations to help their communities by training as tradespeople and professionals who may be better trusted to look after their own. As Charles Perkins, a most celebrated Aboriginal role model for living in both worlds, famously said: “We know we can’t live in the past, but the past lives in us.”

As anxiety and depression, psychological trauma, drug and alcohol misuse, family and communal violence, ecological grief,and suicidal vulnerability are precipitated or exacerbated by the stress of extreme environmental adversity, significant investment in ameliorating these harms is essential, not just for farmers, town businesspeople and their families, but for all those affected, especially these most vulnerable members of the community.⁷ We must provide more essential community services controlled by Aboriginal community members themselves. We must also train and support more Aboriginal mental health workers, healers, mental health educators, peer workers and Aboriginal liaison officers, to work alongside other mental health, and health and social service professionals. Aboriginal people need stable local employment opportunities in their communities. There is a huge opportunity to synergize traditional indigenous fire management with Western techniques, creating and consolidating more valued jobs and respected land management roles for Aboriginal rangers, vital for the future of both Aboriginal and wider communities. Pilot programs are emerging.

Aboriginal communities also need a more preventive, whole-of-life approach to social determinants, lifestyle factors, trauma, and political decisions associated with compromised neurodevelopment, and increased subsequent incidence and severity of mental illnesses in their communities.⁷

As Alexander Solzhenitsyn observed: “On our crowded planet there are no longer any ‘internal affairs.’ ”⁸ Climate change is the ultimate form of globalization: What we each do about it affects all others’ lives. We can only insist that, alongside adequate resourcing of our most evidence-based methods of fire, water, and climate control, our governments consult and listen to our Indigenous elders about applying climate management methods. These have been demonstrated to be sustainable and effective, possibly over 60,000 years – which is the longest established record of continuous Indigenous culture worldwide.

References

1. Ten impacts of the Australian bushfires. U.N. Environment Programme. 2020 Jan 20.

2. Allam L, Evershed N. “Too hot for humans? First Nations people fear becoming Australia’s first climate refugees.” The Guardian. 2019 Dec 17.

3. National Indigenous Australians Agency. “Coronavirus (COVID-19).”

4. Phillips D. “Brazil: Judge bans missionaries from Indigenous reserve over COVID-19 fears.” The Guardian. 2020 Apr 17.

5. Rigby CW et al. Aust J Rural Health. 2011 Oct;19(5):249-54.

6. Cunsolo A, Ellis NR. Nature Clim Change. 2018 Apr 3;8:275-81.

7. Gynther B et al. EClinicalMedicine. 2019 Apr 26;10:68-77.

8. Solzhenitsyn A. “Warning to the West,” speech delivered 30 Jun 1975. New York: Fararr, Straux & Girous, 1976.

Dr. Rosen, an officer of the Order of Australia and a Fellow of the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists, is affiliated with the Brain & Mind Centre, University of Sydney, and the Institute of Mental Health at the University of Wollongong (Australia). He also is a community psychiatrist in a remote region of New South Wales. Dr. Rosen has no conflicts of interest.

*This article was updated 6/16/2020.

Kind wishes and donations worldwide came to help Australian communities and wildlife affected by the extreme drought and uncontrollable bushfires. Indeed, Australians have become a warning beacon for the planet to recognize how factors associated with global warming can morph rapidly into runaway national emergencies.

Little attention, however, has addressed the extreme vulnerability of Australia’s First Nations people, the Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander communities, to the climate crisis. U.N. reports conclude that “Indigenous people with close emotional and ancestral ties to the land are also likely to be disproportionately affected by environmental change and extreme weather events.”¹

In fact, Indigenous peoples, whether living traditionally or assimilated, are among the first to be adversely affected by climate change. This is because, in part, of extreme poverty, inadequate housing, unemployment and other social determinants, transgenerational cultural losses of life and culture, dislocations, traumatic experiences of child removal, overrepresentation in the prison system, and chronic diseases already leading to dramatic disparities in life expectancy and other health outcomes.

Research confirms that rural and remote Aboriginal communities will be Australia’s first mass climate refugees. “Without action to stop climate change, people will be forced to leave their country and leave behind much of what makes them Aboriginal.”² This is because of hotter temperatures, poorly built and unstable homes more vulnerable to heat, and longer and drier droughts. Their communities, in fire-prone townships, are running out of water. Abject poverty severely limits their options, aggravated by government inaction because of ideological climate change denialism. And now we have the overlay of COVID-19 threatening these communities.³

Human pandemics are potentially more likely to occur with climate change. Pandemics also are more apt to be associated with population growth, human settlement encroaching on forests, increasing wild animal or intermediary vector contact, and growth in global travel.

Subsequently, our Indigenous communities have had the most to lose if COVID-19 is let loose in their midst. Spatial separation is difficult in overcrowded, multigenerational households. It is hard to keep your hands washed with soap where reliable water supply is sometimes only communal. Their health workers’ access to protective and lifesaving ICU equipment and expertise may be extremely limited or erratic.

Much of the population is classified as highly vulnerable to COVID-19 because of chronic health disorders (for example, cardiovascular, respiratory, and renal issues; diabetes, and suicidality) and preexisting much shorter life expectancies. Their health workers’ access to protective and lifesaving ICU equipment and expertise is extremely limited. There are fears that, if COVID-19 gains a foothold, they may lose a whole generation of revered elders, who often are also the last fluent tribal language speakers and carriers of life-enhancing cultural stories, traditions, and rites. More urban-living Indigenous families may yet have a rough time avoiding these ravages.

In Australia, COVID-19 has been largely held at bay so far by state and territory governments that have closed borders, restricted nonessential travel, and discouraged or excluded outsiders from visiting remote Indigenous communities wherever possible. There have been complaints that such restrictions occasionally had been applied in these communities in a heavy-handed way by police and other authorities, and may be resisted if enforced unilaterally. They will work only if applied with cultural sensitivity, full Indigenous community consultation, and collaboration. So far, COVID-19 infection rates have been kept very low, with no Indigenous deaths. In Brazil, by contrast, infections and deaths are more than double the national average, itinerant missionaries have only just been excluded from Amazonian tribal lands so far by independent judicial intervention, while loggers and miners come and go freely, as sources of contagion.⁴  Some Indigenous peoples in the United States have experienced among the highest COVID-19 infection and death rates in the country (for example, the Navajo Nation in New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah), amounting to catastrophic loss and grief.

"Black Lives Matter" marches protesting the filmed police killing of George Floyd in the USA have spread worldwide, in the wake of ultra-high rates of police brutality and killings with impunity of non-white individuals.

Many Australians, including considerable numbers of Indigenous people, marched here in sympathy, despite their infective risk and vulnerabilities. They were also protesting the excessive rates of Aboriginal imprisonment, deaths in custody, and police killings without consequences. Both internationally and here, there was an apparent sense of release of pent-up anger and frustrations at both these injustices and the extra susceptibility of poor and non-white people to severe illness, death and dire economic consequences because of the pandemic. It is a deceptive myth that "we are all in this together." So it is encouraging that there is also forming a widespread sense of collective purpose and determination to get governments to address these iniquities and inequities at last.*

I have worked as a community psychiatrist in Barkinje Aboriginal tribal lands of the Far West region of New South Wales (NSW) regularly for 35 years, much of this time while also leading Royal North Shore University General Hospital & Community Mental Health Services in Sydney. Barkinje translates as “River People,” but local media mainly talk about the impact of prolonged drought on farmers and ranchers, who certainly are deeply affected by it. However, the media rarely mention the calamitous impacts on Aboriginal communities. The drought effects are exacerbated by multinational corporate irrigators that divert and allegedly steal river water with tacit encouragement from ostensibly responsible government ministers. The rivers dry up into algal ponds with millions of bloated, rotting dead fish, and entire communities’ water supplies fail.

Researchers have reported on the mental health impacts of prolonged drought and diversion of river water on rural and remote indigenous communities throughout the state of NSW.⁵ We have heard Barkinje and neighboring Wiradjuri people say, “if the land is sick, we are sick,” and, “if the river dries up, there’s nowhere to meet.” Fishing, a popular recreational activity and source of nutrition is now denied to these communities. Unlike farmers, they receive no governmental exceptional circumstance compensation payments during droughts. Instead, they lose their farming jobs, so there is no disposable income and loss of capacity to travel to connect to their extended kinship system and cultural roots (e.g., for funerals or football matches) in other remote townships. Such droughts exacerbate wildfires, loss of fish and birdlife, some of which are sacred spiritual totems; dying of traditional “lifeblood” rivers, decimating precious ancient red-river gumtrees that line the shores; and irreversible damage to other sacred sites (e.g., melting ancient rock art).

So, loss of sustainable food sources, meaningful livelihood, and cultural and leisure pursuits could create an existential threat to Aboriginal identity. However, rural Indigenous communities also told us “whatever you do to us, we will survive and persist, as we have done in the past.”⁶ This is comparable with the tenacity and resilience of other ancient cultures that have suffered genocidal persecution and discrimination in the past, and have stubbornly regrown and persisted and regrown into the future.

They yearn to care for their lands, rivers, and seas of their traditions and upbringing, whether as “saltwater” coastal or “freshwater” inland peoples. They value their extended families, honor their elders and their collective wisdom, while also living in “two worlds.” They often encourage their children to get educated and pursue individualistic aspirations to help their communities by training as tradespeople and professionals who may be better trusted to look after their own. As Charles Perkins, a most celebrated Aboriginal role model for living in both worlds, famously said: “We know we can’t live in the past, but the past lives in us.”

As anxiety and depression, psychological trauma, drug and alcohol misuse, family and communal violence, ecological grief,and suicidal vulnerability are precipitated or exacerbated by the stress of extreme environmental adversity, significant investment in ameliorating these harms is essential, not just for farmers, town businesspeople and their families, but for all those affected, especially these most vulnerable members of the community.⁷ We must provide more essential community services controlled by Aboriginal community members themselves. We must also train and support more Aboriginal mental health workers, healers, mental health educators, peer workers and Aboriginal liaison officers, to work alongside other mental health, and health and social service professionals. Aboriginal people need stable local employment opportunities in their communities. There is a huge opportunity to synergize traditional indigenous fire management with Western techniques, creating and consolidating more valued jobs and respected land management roles for Aboriginal rangers, vital for the future of both Aboriginal and wider communities. Pilot programs are emerging.

Aboriginal communities also need a more preventive, whole-of-life approach to social determinants, lifestyle factors, trauma, and political decisions associated with compromised neurodevelopment, and increased subsequent incidence and severity of mental illnesses in their communities.⁷

As Alexander Solzhenitsyn observed: “On our crowded planet there are no longer any ‘internal affairs.’ ”⁸ Climate change is the ultimate form of globalization: What we each do about it affects all others’ lives. We can only insist that, alongside adequate resourcing of our most evidence-based methods of fire, water, and climate control, our governments consult and listen to our Indigenous elders about applying climate management methods. These have been demonstrated to be sustainable and effective, possibly over 60,000 years – which is the longest established record of continuous Indigenous culture worldwide.

References

1. Ten impacts of the Australian bushfires. U.N. Environment Programme. 2020 Jan 20.

2. Allam L, Evershed N. “Too hot for humans? First Nations people fear becoming Australia’s first climate refugees.” The Guardian. 2019 Dec 17.

3. National Indigenous Australians Agency. “Coronavirus (COVID-19).”

4. Phillips D. “Brazil: Judge bans missionaries from Indigenous reserve over COVID-19 fears.” The Guardian. 2020 Apr 17.

5. Rigby CW et al. Aust J Rural Health. 2011 Oct;19(5):249-54.

6. Cunsolo A, Ellis NR. Nature Clim Change. 2018 Apr 3;8:275-81.

7. Gynther B et al. EClinicalMedicine. 2019 Apr 26;10:68-77.

8. Solzhenitsyn A. “Warning to the West,” speech delivered 30 Jun 1975. New York: Fararr, Straux & Girous, 1976.

Dr. Rosen, an officer of the Order of Australia and a Fellow of the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists, is affiliated with the Brain & Mind Centre, University of Sydney, and the Institute of Mental Health at the University of Wollongong (Australia). He also is a community psychiatrist in a remote region of New South Wales. Dr. Rosen has no conflicts of interest.

*This article was updated 6/16/2020.

Kind wishes and donations worldwide came to help Australian communities and wildlife affected by the extreme drought and uncontrollable bushfires. Indeed, Australians have become a warning beacon for the planet to recognize how factors associated with global warming can morph rapidly into runaway national emergencies.

Little attention, however, has addressed the extreme vulnerability of Australia’s First Nations people, the Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander communities, to the climate crisis. U.N. reports conclude that “Indigenous people with close emotional and ancestral ties to the land are also likely to be disproportionately affected by environmental change and extreme weather events.”¹

In fact, Indigenous peoples, whether living traditionally or assimilated, are among the first to be adversely affected by climate change. This is because, in part, of extreme poverty, inadequate housing, unemployment and other social determinants, transgenerational cultural losses of life and culture, dislocations, traumatic experiences of child removal, overrepresentation in the prison system, and chronic diseases already leading to dramatic disparities in life expectancy and other health outcomes.

Research confirms that rural and remote Aboriginal communities will be Australia’s first mass climate refugees. “Without action to stop climate change, people will be forced to leave their country and leave behind much of what makes them Aboriginal.”² This is because of hotter temperatures, poorly built and unstable homes more vulnerable to heat, and longer and drier droughts. Their communities, in fire-prone townships, are running out of water. Abject poverty severely limits their options, aggravated by government inaction because of ideological climate change denialism. And now we have the overlay of COVID-19 threatening these communities.³

Human pandemics are potentially more likely to occur with climate change. Pandemics also are more apt to be associated with population growth, human settlement encroaching on forests, increasing wild animal or intermediary vector contact, and growth in global travel.

Subsequently, our Indigenous communities have had the most to lose if COVID-19 is let loose in their midst. Spatial separation is difficult in overcrowded, multigenerational households. It is hard to keep your hands washed with soap where reliable water supply is sometimes only communal. Their health workers’ access to protective and lifesaving ICU equipment and expertise may be extremely limited or erratic.

Much of the population is classified as highly vulnerable to COVID-19 because of chronic health disorders (for example, cardiovascular, respiratory, and renal issues; diabetes, and suicidality) and preexisting much shorter life expectancies. Their health workers’ access to protective and lifesaving ICU equipment and expertise is extremely limited. There are fears that, if COVID-19 gains a foothold, they may lose a whole generation of revered elders, who often are also the last fluent tribal language speakers and carriers of life-enhancing cultural stories, traditions, and rites. More urban-living Indigenous families may yet have a rough time avoiding these ravages.

In Australia, COVID-19 has been largely held at bay so far by state and territory governments that have closed borders, restricted nonessential travel, and discouraged or excluded outsiders from visiting remote Indigenous communities wherever possible. There have been complaints that such restrictions occasionally had been applied in these communities in a heavy-handed way by police and other authorities, and may be resisted if enforced unilaterally. They will work only if applied with cultural sensitivity, full Indigenous community consultation, and collaboration. So far, COVID-19 infection rates have been kept very low, with no Indigenous deaths. In Brazil, by contrast, infections and deaths are more than double the national average, itinerant missionaries have only just been excluded from Amazonian tribal lands so far by independent judicial intervention, while loggers and miners come and go freely, as sources of contagion.⁴  Some Indigenous peoples in the United States have experienced among the highest COVID-19 infection and death rates in the country (for example, the Navajo Nation in New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah), amounting to catastrophic loss and grief.

"Black Lives Matter" marches protesting the filmed police killing of George Floyd in the USA have spread worldwide, in the wake of ultra-high rates of police brutality and killings with impunity of non-white individuals.

Many Australians, including considerable numbers of Indigenous people, marched here in sympathy, despite their infective risk and vulnerabilities. They were also protesting the excessive rates of Aboriginal imprisonment, deaths in custody, and police killings without consequences. Both internationally and here, there was an apparent sense of release of pent-up anger and frustrations at both these injustices and the extra susceptibility of poor and non-white people to severe illness, death and dire economic consequences because of the pandemic. It is a deceptive myth that "we are all in this together." So it is encouraging that there is also forming a widespread sense of collective purpose and determination to get governments to address these iniquities and inequities at last.*

I have worked as a community psychiatrist in Barkinje Aboriginal tribal lands of the Far West region of New South Wales (NSW) regularly for 35 years, much of this time while also leading Royal North Shore University General Hospital & Community Mental Health Services in Sydney. Barkinje translates as “River People,” but local media mainly talk about the impact of prolonged drought on farmers and ranchers, who certainly are deeply affected by it. However, the media rarely mention the calamitous impacts on Aboriginal communities. The drought effects are exacerbated by multinational corporate irrigators that divert and allegedly steal river water with tacit encouragement from ostensibly responsible government ministers. The rivers dry up into algal ponds with millions of bloated, rotting dead fish, and entire communities’ water supplies fail.

Researchers have reported on the mental health impacts of prolonged drought and diversion of river water on rural and remote indigenous communities throughout the state of NSW.⁵ We have heard Barkinje and neighboring Wiradjuri people say, “if the land is sick, we are sick,” and, “if the river dries up, there’s nowhere to meet.” Fishing, a popular recreational activity and source of nutrition is now denied to these communities. Unlike farmers, they receive no governmental exceptional circumstance compensation payments during droughts. Instead, they lose their farming jobs, so there is no disposable income and loss of capacity to travel to connect to their extended kinship system and cultural roots (e.g., for funerals or football matches) in other remote townships. Such droughts exacerbate wildfires, loss of fish and birdlife, some of which are sacred spiritual totems; dying of traditional “lifeblood” rivers, decimating precious ancient red-river gumtrees that line the shores; and irreversible damage to other sacred sites (e.g., melting ancient rock art).

So, loss of sustainable food sources, meaningful livelihood, and cultural and leisure pursuits could create an existential threat to Aboriginal identity. However, rural Indigenous communities also told us “whatever you do to us, we will survive and persist, as we have done in the past.”⁶ This is comparable with the tenacity and resilience of other ancient cultures that have suffered genocidal persecution and discrimination in the past, and have stubbornly regrown and persisted and regrown into the future.

They yearn to care for their lands, rivers, and seas of their traditions and upbringing, whether as “saltwater” coastal or “freshwater” inland peoples. They value their extended families, honor their elders and their collective wisdom, while also living in “two worlds.” They often encourage their children to get educated and pursue individualistic aspirations to help their communities by training as tradespeople and professionals who may be better trusted to look after their own. As Charles Perkins, a most celebrated Aboriginal role model for living in both worlds, famously said: “We know we can’t live in the past, but the past lives in us.”

As anxiety and depression, psychological trauma, drug and alcohol misuse, family and communal violence, ecological grief,and suicidal vulnerability are precipitated or exacerbated by the stress of extreme environmental adversity, significant investment in ameliorating these harms is essential, not just for farmers, town businesspeople and their families, but for all those affected, especially these most vulnerable members of the community.⁷ We must provide more essential community services controlled by Aboriginal community members themselves. We must also train and support more Aboriginal mental health workers, healers, mental health educators, peer workers and Aboriginal liaison officers, to work alongside other mental health, and health and social service professionals. Aboriginal people need stable local employment opportunities in their communities. There is a huge opportunity to synergize traditional indigenous fire management with Western techniques, creating and consolidating more valued jobs and respected land management roles for Aboriginal rangers, vital for the future of both Aboriginal and wider communities. Pilot programs are emerging.

Aboriginal communities also need a more preventive, whole-of-life approach to social determinants, lifestyle factors, trauma, and political decisions associated with compromised neurodevelopment, and increased subsequent incidence and severity of mental illnesses in their communities.⁷

As Alexander Solzhenitsyn observed: “On our crowded planet there are no longer any ‘internal affairs.’ ”⁸ Climate change is the ultimate form of globalization: What we each do about it affects all others’ lives. We can only insist that, alongside adequate resourcing of our most evidence-based methods of fire, water, and climate control, our governments consult and listen to our Indigenous elders about applying climate management methods. These have been demonstrated to be sustainable and effective, possibly over 60,000 years – which is the longest established record of continuous Indigenous culture worldwide.

References

1. Ten impacts of the Australian bushfires. U.N. Environment Programme. 2020 Jan 20.

2. Allam L, Evershed N. “Too hot for humans? First Nations people fear becoming Australia’s first climate refugees.” The Guardian. 2019 Dec 17.

3. National Indigenous Australians Agency. “Coronavirus (COVID-19).”

4. Phillips D. “Brazil: Judge bans missionaries from Indigenous reserve over COVID-19 fears.” The Guardian. 2020 Apr 17.

5. Rigby CW et al. Aust J Rural Health. 2011 Oct;19(5):249-54.

6. Cunsolo A, Ellis NR. Nature Clim Change. 2018 Apr 3;8:275-81.

7. Gynther B et al. EClinicalMedicine. 2019 Apr 26;10:68-77.

8. Solzhenitsyn A. “Warning to the West,” speech delivered 30 Jun 1975. New York: Fararr, Straux & Girous, 1976.

Dr. Rosen, an officer of the Order of Australia and a Fellow of the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists, is affiliated with the Brain & Mind Centre, University of Sydney, and the Institute of Mental Health at the University of Wollongong (Australia). He also is a community psychiatrist in a remote region of New South Wales. Dr. Rosen has no conflicts of interest.

*This article was updated 6/16/2020.

It is difficult right now to contemplate issues other than battling COVID-19. However, we must not lose sight of another worldwide crisis that, unless we confront it head-on, will be with us long after the pandemic is behind us. That crisis is climate change. Increased susceptibility to pandemics is likely to be a consequence of it. Unlike pandemics, climate change poses an even more long-term and pervasive existential threat to both our mental and physical health, and our existences. Many more of us who live in Australia now fear that climate change is upon us and here to stay.

Daniiielc/iStock/Getty Images

Droughts, no stranger to Australians, often are punctuated by dramatic floods, and we are now dealing with extended summer seasons filled with bushfires. We are experienced in managing them. These fires are usually limited to a few different states, so fire crews typically help one another out as they are controlled and extinguished. Australians pull together with great community spirit and resilience under these circumstances.

But the last two fire seasons have been different. They have become unseasonably long, more severe, and often uncontrollable and overwhelming. We have experienced two uncharacteristically prolonged droughts, more recently creeping across most of our continent. Last spring, wild fires took hold very early and were ubiquitous, increasing during the unusually high summer heat. Climate change already had worsened our accustomed pattern of droughts, fires, and floods.

Meanwhile, the Australian federal government repeatedly ignored advice from highly respected meteorological, environmental, scientific, and economic experts.¹

Warnings from experts

The state fire commissioners had formally warned our government of increasing vulnerability via climate change to bushfires. This occurred in the context of government inaction, lack of national investment (for example, insufficient water bombing equipment), and the absence of national preparation for the predicted catastrophic fire season. Prime Minister Scott Morrison declined to meet with them, minimizing the role of climate change. He provided no extra resources, emphatically leaving the responsibility to state governments.²

Distinguished economist Ross Garnaut concluded that Australia could lead the world in renewable energy production and harness it for industries and employment, if only the government chose to invest in our ample renewable sources. Sadly, our conservative government and its corporate sponsors maintain an addiction to fossil fuels, arguing that they protect employment. Meanwhile, the economic “trickle-down” benefit from massive coal and gas exports has been illusory. Socioeconomic inequities have widened, with profits favoring the mega-rich, while mining automation takes jobs.

With the fire emergency crisis at its height, Mr. Morrison sent his energy minister to the U.N. Madrid Climate Change Conference with the goal of preventing meaningful CO₂ reductions, in collaboration with Brazil, Saudi Arabia, and the United States.

The sustained drought and desiccated vegetation, the escalating fuel load growth, and early hot weather led to super-hot fires, with catapulted ember attacks and fireballs falling from the sky, which burned down thousands of homes and incinerated livestock. The fires led to numerous human fatalities and overloaded hospital burn units. The unprecedented fire season duration and uncontrollable fires exhausted voluntary fire crews. There have even been fires in cool damp rain forests – the usual refuge/reservoir of endangered flora and fauna species.

The simultaneous droughts, unusual heat, and pervasive smoke also badly affect major cities, and intense fires terrorized the entire nation. Consequently, regional firefighting teams were unable to help other regions. Huge, unquenchable fires created spiraling micro-weather systems, with thunderstorms spitting dry lightning, sparking new fires and twisters, tornadoes, and updrafts hurtling heavy fire trucks into the air, which caused terrible injuries and death to fire crews. Ultimately, the federal government had to supply large-scale sea and air evacuations, and call up military reservists for civic duties.
 

Mental health implications

In 2007, Australian Glenn Albrecht defined “solastalgia” as the emotional pain, existential distress, loss, and grieving derived from rapid and severe changes in one’s geophysical environment or familiar habitat.³ Studies now support its existence worldwide in communities suffering great environmental change, indicating its contribution to climate change’s psychosocial impacts.⁴ Mental health studies also recognize the reality of “eco-anxiety,” defined as “a chronic fear of ecological doom” for self, family, community, future generations, and our planet.⁵

Other climate-derived psychiatric consequences include trauma, which leads to lifelong consequences for survivors of fires; grief associated with lost lives, homes, and livelihoods; posttraumatic hyperarousal; hypervigilance, re-experiencing, and rekindling; anxiety; depression; substance misuse; and long-term cognitive impacts of poor air quality. These effects are all borne from anticipated and actual loss, uncertainty about the future, and distrust in the capacity of leadership to aid recovery or prevent future recurrences. The Australian government has announced commendable, but long overdue, funds for psychological first aid, counseling, telepsychiatry, and support for developing community cohesion and resilience for first responders, young people, and badly affected rural families and communities. However, those efforts do nothing to prevent the ongoing shift of resources away from rural community mental health services, which results in severe depletion of community mental health teams, often in the very locations and communities that are suffering most from bushfires. This forces affected communities to rely on less reliable and time-limited telehealth assessments and other online services conducted by strangers, rather than more familiar and engaging in-person services – thus betraying community expectations of continuity of care and support.

While we observe our country’s path to a fateful rendezvous with an rapidly accelerating climate emergency, we can only hope that Australia and the world beyond can awaken to its reality, immediacy, extremity, and persistence and to the compelling need for serious constructive responses. It is finally dawning on the easy-going and complacent Australian public that climate change is here to stay, fully formed, as a runaway, spiraling vicious cycle – unpredictable and uncontrolled. This is not “the new normal”: It can only get worse, unless and until the nations of the world move collaboratively beyond their denial to ensure the survival of the planet and our species.

So, rather than just exemplifying a tragic casualty of rampant climate change for the world, maybe we can transform this catastrophe into an opportunity to collectively wake us up. Only then, can Australia ultimately become a positive example of developing a full national awareness of the reality and severity of the threat. Hopefully, we Australians will then commit ourselves to a full share of the global effort needed to effectively address our climate’s dire last-ditch warnings to us all.
 

References

1. Easton S. “ ‘Ignored and trivialized’: Experts warned Australian government before catastrophic blazes.” NBCnews.com. 2020 Feb 9.

2. Rouse A. “Scott Morrison defends why he refused to meet former fire chiefs who warned him about horror season – as he defends his handling of bushfire crisis.” Daily Mail Australia. 2020 Jan 3.

3. Albrecht G et al. Australas Psychiatry. 2007;15 Supp1:S95-8.

4. Prescott SL et al. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2019 Nov 5;16(21).

5. Usher K et al. Int J Ment Health Nurs. 2019. Dec;28(6):1233-4.

Dr. Rosen, an officer of the Order of Australia and a Fellow of the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists, is affiliated with the Brain & Mind Centre, University of Sydney, and the Institute of Mental Health at the University of Wollongong, Australia. He also is a community psychiatrist in a remote region of New South Wales, Australia. Dr. Rosen has no conflicts of interest. In Part 2, he discusses the impact of the fires on Australia’s indigenous population.

It is difficult right now to contemplate issues other than battling COVID-19. However, we must not lose sight of another worldwide crisis that, unless we confront it head-on, will be with us long after the pandemic is behind us. That crisis is climate change. Increased susceptibility to pandemics is likely to be a consequence of it. Unlike pandemics, climate change poses an even more long-term and pervasive existential threat to both our mental and physical health, and our existences. Many more of us who live in Australia now fear that climate change is upon us and here to stay.

Daniiielc/iStock/Getty Images

Droughts, no stranger to Australians, often are punctuated by dramatic floods, and we are now dealing with extended summer seasons filled with bushfires. We are experienced in managing them. These fires are usually limited to a few different states, so fire crews typically help one another out as they are controlled and extinguished. Australians pull together with great community spirit and resilience under these circumstances.

But the last two fire seasons have been different. They have become unseasonably long, more severe, and often uncontrollable and overwhelming. We have experienced two uncharacteristically prolonged droughts, more recently creeping across most of our continent. Last spring, wild fires took hold very early and were ubiquitous, increasing during the unusually high summer heat. Climate change already had worsened our accustomed pattern of droughts, fires, and floods.

Meanwhile, the Australian federal government repeatedly ignored advice from highly respected meteorological, environmental, scientific, and economic experts.¹

Warnings from experts

The state fire commissioners had formally warned our government of increasing vulnerability via climate change to bushfires. This occurred in the context of government inaction, lack of national investment (for example, insufficient water bombing equipment), and the absence of national preparation for the predicted catastrophic fire season. Prime Minister Scott Morrison declined to meet with them, minimizing the role of climate change. He provided no extra resources, emphatically leaving the responsibility to state governments.²

Distinguished economist Ross Garnaut concluded that Australia could lead the world in renewable energy production and harness it for industries and employment, if only the government chose to invest in our ample renewable sources. Sadly, our conservative government and its corporate sponsors maintain an addiction to fossil fuels, arguing that they protect employment. Meanwhile, the economic “trickle-down” benefit from massive coal and gas exports has been illusory. Socioeconomic inequities have widened, with profits favoring the mega-rich, while mining automation takes jobs.

With the fire emergency crisis at its height, Mr. Morrison sent his energy minister to the U.N. Madrid Climate Change Conference with the goal of preventing meaningful CO₂ reductions, in collaboration with Brazil, Saudi Arabia, and the United States.

The sustained drought and desiccated vegetation, the escalating fuel load growth, and early hot weather led to super-hot fires, with catapulted ember attacks and fireballs falling from the sky, which burned down thousands of homes and incinerated livestock. The fires led to numerous human fatalities and overloaded hospital burn units. The unprecedented fire season duration and uncontrollable fires exhausted voluntary fire crews. There have even been fires in cool damp rain forests – the usual refuge/reservoir of endangered flora and fauna species.

The simultaneous droughts, unusual heat, and pervasive smoke also badly affect major cities, and intense fires terrorized the entire nation. Consequently, regional firefighting teams were unable to help other regions. Huge, unquenchable fires created spiraling micro-weather systems, with thunderstorms spitting dry lightning, sparking new fires and twisters, tornadoes, and updrafts hurtling heavy fire trucks into the air, which caused terrible injuries and death to fire crews. Ultimately, the federal government had to supply large-scale sea and air evacuations, and call up military reservists for civic duties.
 

Mental health implications

In 2007, Australian Glenn Albrecht defined “solastalgia” as the emotional pain, existential distress, loss, and grieving derived from rapid and severe changes in one’s geophysical environment or familiar habitat.³ Studies now support its existence worldwide in communities suffering great environmental change, indicating its contribution to climate change’s psychosocial impacts.⁴ Mental health studies also recognize the reality of “eco-anxiety,” defined as “a chronic fear of ecological doom” for self, family, community, future generations, and our planet.⁵

Other climate-derived psychiatric consequences include trauma, which leads to lifelong consequences for survivors of fires; grief associated with lost lives, homes, and livelihoods; posttraumatic hyperarousal; hypervigilance, re-experiencing, and rekindling; anxiety; depression; substance misuse; and long-term cognitive impacts of poor air quality. These effects are all borne from anticipated and actual loss, uncertainty about the future, and distrust in the capacity of leadership to aid recovery or prevent future recurrences. The Australian government has announced commendable, but long overdue, funds for psychological first aid, counseling, telepsychiatry, and support for developing community cohesion and resilience for first responders, young people, and badly affected rural families and communities. However, those efforts do nothing to prevent the ongoing shift of resources away from rural community mental health services, which results in severe depletion of community mental health teams, often in the very locations and communities that are suffering most from bushfires. This forces affected communities to rely on less reliable and time-limited telehealth assessments and other online services conducted by strangers, rather than more familiar and engaging in-person services – thus betraying community expectations of continuity of care and support.

While we observe our country’s path to a fateful rendezvous with an rapidly accelerating climate emergency, we can only hope that Australia and the world beyond can awaken to its reality, immediacy, extremity, and persistence and to the compelling need for serious constructive responses. It is finally dawning on the easy-going and complacent Australian public that climate change is here to stay, fully formed, as a runaway, spiraling vicious cycle – unpredictable and uncontrolled. This is not “the new normal”: It can only get worse, unless and until the nations of the world move collaboratively beyond their denial to ensure the survival of the planet and our species.

So, rather than just exemplifying a tragic casualty of rampant climate change for the world, maybe we can transform this catastrophe into an opportunity to collectively wake us up. Only then, can Australia ultimately become a positive example of developing a full national awareness of the reality and severity of the threat. Hopefully, we Australians will then commit ourselves to a full share of the global effort needed to effectively address our climate’s dire last-ditch warnings to us all.
 

References

1. Easton S. “ ‘Ignored and trivialized’: Experts warned Australian government before catastrophic blazes.” NBCnews.com. 2020 Feb 9.

2. Rouse A. “Scott Morrison defends why he refused to meet former fire chiefs who warned him about horror season – as he defends his handling of bushfire crisis.” Daily Mail Australia. 2020 Jan 3.

3. Albrecht G et al. Australas Psychiatry. 2007;15 Supp1:S95-8.

4. Prescott SL et al. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2019 Nov 5;16(21).

5. Usher K et al. Int J Ment Health Nurs. 2019. Dec;28(6):1233-4.

Dr. Rosen, an officer of the Order of Australia and a Fellow of the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists, is affiliated with the Brain & Mind Centre, University of Sydney, and the Institute of Mental Health at the University of Wollongong, Australia. He also is a community psychiatrist in a remote region of New South Wales, Australia. Dr. Rosen has no conflicts of interest. In Part 2, he discusses the impact of the fires on Australia’s indigenous population.

It is difficult right now to contemplate issues other than battling COVID-19. However, we must not lose sight of another worldwide crisis that, unless we confront it head-on, will be with us long after the pandemic is behind us. That crisis is climate change. Increased susceptibility to pandemics is likely to be a consequence of it. Unlike pandemics, climate change poses an even more long-term and pervasive existential threat to both our mental and physical health, and our existences. Many more of us who live in Australia now fear that climate change is upon us and here to stay.

Daniiielc/iStock/Getty Images

Droughts, no stranger to Australians, often are punctuated by dramatic floods, and we are now dealing with extended summer seasons filled with bushfires. We are experienced in managing them. These fires are usually limited to a few different states, so fire crews typically help one another out as they are controlled and extinguished. Australians pull together with great community spirit and resilience under these circumstances.

But the last two fire seasons have been different. They have become unseasonably long, more severe, and often uncontrollable and overwhelming. We have experienced two uncharacteristically prolonged droughts, more recently creeping across most of our continent. Last spring, wild fires took hold very early and were ubiquitous, increasing during the unusually high summer heat. Climate change already had worsened our accustomed pattern of droughts, fires, and floods.

Meanwhile, the Australian federal government repeatedly ignored advice from highly respected meteorological, environmental, scientific, and economic experts.¹

Warnings from experts

The state fire commissioners had formally warned our government of increasing vulnerability via climate change to bushfires. This occurred in the context of government inaction, lack of national investment (for example, insufficient water bombing equipment), and the absence of national preparation for the predicted catastrophic fire season. Prime Minister Scott Morrison declined to meet with them, minimizing the role of climate change. He provided no extra resources, emphatically leaving the responsibility to state governments.²

Distinguished economist Ross Garnaut concluded that Australia could lead the world in renewable energy production and harness it for industries and employment, if only the government chose to invest in our ample renewable sources. Sadly, our conservative government and its corporate sponsors maintain an addiction to fossil fuels, arguing that they protect employment. Meanwhile, the economic “trickle-down” benefit from massive coal and gas exports has been illusory. Socioeconomic inequities have widened, with profits favoring the mega-rich, while mining automation takes jobs.

With the fire emergency crisis at its height, Mr. Morrison sent his energy minister to the U.N. Madrid Climate Change Conference with the goal of preventing meaningful CO₂ reductions, in collaboration with Brazil, Saudi Arabia, and the United States.

The sustained drought and desiccated vegetation, the escalating fuel load growth, and early hot weather led to super-hot fires, with catapulted ember attacks and fireballs falling from the sky, which burned down thousands of homes and incinerated livestock. The fires led to numerous human fatalities and overloaded hospital burn units. The unprecedented fire season duration and uncontrollable fires exhausted voluntary fire crews. There have even been fires in cool damp rain forests – the usual refuge/reservoir of endangered flora and fauna species.

The simultaneous droughts, unusual heat, and pervasive smoke also badly affect major cities, and intense fires terrorized the entire nation. Consequently, regional firefighting teams were unable to help other regions. Huge, unquenchable fires created spiraling micro-weather systems, with thunderstorms spitting dry lightning, sparking new fires and twisters, tornadoes, and updrafts hurtling heavy fire trucks into the air, which caused terrible injuries and death to fire crews. Ultimately, the federal government had to supply large-scale sea and air evacuations, and call up military reservists for civic duties.
 

Mental health implications

In 2007, Australian Glenn Albrecht defined “solastalgia” as the emotional pain, existential distress, loss, and grieving derived from rapid and severe changes in one’s geophysical environment or familiar habitat.³ Studies now support its existence worldwide in communities suffering great environmental change, indicating its contribution to climate change’s psychosocial impacts.⁴ Mental health studies also recognize the reality of “eco-anxiety,” defined as “a chronic fear of ecological doom” for self, family, community, future generations, and our planet.⁵

Other climate-derived psychiatric consequences include trauma, which leads to lifelong consequences for survivors of fires; grief associated with lost lives, homes, and livelihoods; posttraumatic hyperarousal; hypervigilance, re-experiencing, and rekindling; anxiety; depression; substance misuse; and long-term cognitive impacts of poor air quality. These effects are all borne from anticipated and actual loss, uncertainty about the future, and distrust in the capacity of leadership to aid recovery or prevent future recurrences. The Australian government has announced commendable, but long overdue, funds for psychological first aid, counseling, telepsychiatry, and support for developing community cohesion and resilience for first responders, young people, and badly affected rural families and communities. However, those efforts do nothing to prevent the ongoing shift of resources away from rural community mental health services, which results in severe depletion of community mental health teams, often in the very locations and communities that are suffering most from bushfires. This forces affected communities to rely on less reliable and time-limited telehealth assessments and other online services conducted by strangers, rather than more familiar and engaging in-person services – thus betraying community expectations of continuity of care and support.

While we observe our country’s path to a fateful rendezvous with an rapidly accelerating climate emergency, we can only hope that Australia and the world beyond can awaken to its reality, immediacy, extremity, and persistence and to the compelling need for serious constructive responses. It is finally dawning on the easy-going and complacent Australian public that climate change is here to stay, fully formed, as a runaway, spiraling vicious cycle – unpredictable and uncontrolled. This is not “the new normal”: It can only get worse, unless and until the nations of the world move collaboratively beyond their denial to ensure the survival of the planet and our species.

So, rather than just exemplifying a tragic casualty of rampant climate change for the world, maybe we can transform this catastrophe into an opportunity to collectively wake us up. Only then, can Australia ultimately become a positive example of developing a full national awareness of the reality and severity of the threat. Hopefully, we Australians will then commit ourselves to a full share of the global effort needed to effectively address our climate’s dire last-ditch warnings to us all.
 

References

1. Easton S. “ ‘Ignored and trivialized’: Experts warned Australian government before catastrophic blazes.” NBCnews.com. 2020 Feb 9.

2. Rouse A. “Scott Morrison defends why he refused to meet former fire chiefs who warned him about horror season – as he defends his handling of bushfire crisis.” Daily Mail Australia. 2020 Jan 3.

3. Albrecht G et al. Australas Psychiatry. 2007;15 Supp1:S95-8.

4. Prescott SL et al. Int J Environ Res Public Health. 2019 Nov 5;16(21).

5. Usher K et al. Int J Ment Health Nurs. 2019. Dec;28(6):1233-4.

Dr. Rosen, an officer of the Order of Australia and a Fellow of the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists, is affiliated with the Brain & Mind Centre, University of Sydney, and the Institute of Mental Health at the University of Wollongong, Australia. He also is a community psychiatrist in a remote region of New South Wales, Australia. Dr. Rosen has no conflicts of interest. In Part 2, he discusses the impact of the fires on Australia’s indigenous population.