Fuel for populists

Anyone who persistently denies a danger is exposed on the day of the disaster. Their credibility is gone. It sounds so obvious, too. Right-wing populists and authoritarians deny man-made climate change or dismiss the rise in temperature as no big deal. They brand calls for countermeasures as nannying, as exaggeration, as ideology. At the same time, however, climate disasters are becoming increasingly frequent. Hardly a day goes by without reports of flooding in certain regions or – as is currently the case in Europe and the US – record-breaking heatwaves and wildfires. Shouldn’t these daily examples expose those who downplay the climate crisis? Reveal their irresponsibility? And, as a result, damage their standing among the general public? One might think so. But it’s not quite that simple.

Climate disasters do not automatically foster understanding, as recent years have shown. On the contrary, they fuel the very identity politics that the right supposedly hates so much, yet which they themselves apply so gleefully and from which they profit so greatly. 

The political punchline here is that the climate crisis itself can become the enemy of the progressive camp, acting as an accomplice to the right’s fantasies of absolute power. With every extreme weather event, the potential for political exploitation grows. This is dangerous; the climate crisis combined with mistrust of state institutions can quickly result in a toxic political mix. For the right, this is a convenient situation: first, for ideological reasons, they do nothing to avert the climate crisis; and then they reap the bitter fruits of that very same crisis. It sounds diabolical, but of course it makes sense from their point of view. Conservative forces should ask themselves quite honestly what they actually stand to gain from the ongoing delay in climate policy. Are they, in the medium term, paving the way for the right? 

The link between the climate crisis and democracy is doubly explosive. On the one hand, right-wing populists have chosen climate policy as their preferred battleground. Many of their attacks on the democratic centre and the liberal rule of law are deliberately launched here. On the other hand, the effects of unchecked global warming can become a threat to democracy and thus further fuel the rise of right-wing populists and authoritarians. 

When a state of emergency becomes the new normal, democratic actors can no longer keep up with managing the crises. The more frequently states have to respond to heatwaves, floods, droughts or energy shortages, the greater the pressure to resort to emergency decrees or special powers. What begins as crisis management can then quickly end in permanent emergency regimes. There is a danger that democracies will shift power to the executive – and that this power will not be returned later. 

Furthermore, the longing for a ‘strong’ leader grows when politics appears paralysed and the consequences of climate change become ever more threatening. Social conflicts become more radicalised, and struggles over distribution intensify. Disasters create a strong need for control. When homes are flooded and a sense of security crumbles, the longing for order, protection and clear guidance grows. Those who promise a tough stance, decisive action and national isolation appear capable of taking action at such times. Whether these responses will prevent future disasters or even merely alleviate the current one quickly becomes a secondary concern.

How does this work? Well, first of all, the cause of the disaster is reframed. ‘Climate change is making extreme events more frequent’ becomes: ‘The environmentalists have let you down’ or ‘the government has made everything worse with regulations and bureaucracy’. The forest is said to be too unmanaged and therefore highly flammable; the electricity grids are overloaded because of renewables; and the authorities are too hesitant in their responses, either because they are generally incompetent or distracted by enacting unnecessary regulations. With rhetorical bite and the full spectrum of social media, the battlefield is shifted. The disaster is then no longer seen as a warning signal; rather, it becomes supposed proof of political failure. In this way, it itself becomes a weapon – against progressive politics and liberal governments. 

Added to this is a climate of mistrust. Those who are already sceptical of state institutions, the media and the scientific community do not see the disaster as a warning from nature. They see it as further evidence that ‘those at the top’ have failed. Consequently, it is not the storm or the heat that remains the focus of attention for long, but rather anger towards the elites. 

Extreme weather provides the fuel for a broader anti-progressive ‘culture war’ narrative: elites, eco-activists and the state versus ‘ordinary people’. Studies by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue (ISD) reveal a clear pattern: right-wing influencers appropriate terms such as resilience, crisis preparedness, forest conservation and forest management – but deliberately pit them against climate policy. Cause and solution are completely separated from one another. This narrative primarily appeals to economically vulnerable groups, people with little trust in state institutions, and those who feel alienated from urban-liberal elites whilst being directly affected by fires, droughts or heatwaves.

These narratives are amplified by lobby groups and think tanks, which spread them via social media within closed echo chambers. ISD documents the underlying platform logic: YouTube and TikTok reward polarising content; Facebook groups act as local ‘neighbourhood echo chambers’ during fires and emergencies; Telegram accelerates the spread of disinformation particularly rapidly and often links it to far-right ecosystems. The technical infrastructure favours emotional blame far more than dispassionate analysis or factual explanations of the broader context.

Right-wing politicians, media outlets and influencers thus provide real-time interpretations that decouple extreme events from climate change and shift the blame onto others. Alongside the ‘eco-activists’, the elite and the state, this almost always includes migrants – after all, what would the right be without migration? Just how effective this counter-framing is can be seen, for example, in a Brookings commentary by Darrell West on Hurricanes Helene and Milton in the southern states of the USA. There, the right-wing camp deliberately stoked mistrust towards the then Biden administration and federal authorities: aid funds were allegedly being blocked, donations seized, and resources were lacking – supposedly because they had already been spent on migrants.

This counter-framing is highly effective. It is immediately available, ideologically compatible and emotionally charged. Responsibility is reinterpreted, powerlessness transformed into anger – a pattern that ISD has documented time and again. Speed is crucial here. Right-wing channels on Telegram, Facebook, X/Twitter and TikTok often disseminate coordinated narratives within a few hours of an extreme event. They are thus frequently faster than reliable information. This is a structural advantage of populist politics: incitement is faster than explanation. And speed is an important instrument of power in a crisis.

Relying solely on evidence or morality will not be enough. Climate-related governance must work, and it must be visible. This is precisely what political scientist Leah Stokes refers to with her concept of ‘Climate Statecraft’: trust in democratic institutions is not built through scientific evidence, but through reliable protection at the moment of disaster. If, following a flood or a heatwave, the state appears unprepared, bureaucratic or absent, it lends credence to the populist narrative of the ‘failure of the elites’.

Democratic forces must not leave the issue of security to the populists. This also applies to disaster management. The state must take responsibility, and people must be able to recognise this and place their trust in it. Here, too, the most important lever is the local level, as Stokes also points out. Trustworthy voices from the affected communities – such as churches, local authorities or civil society networks – are central to credible counter-narratives. If a vacuum remains here, populists will fill it.