• by Busani Bafana (bulawayo, zimbabwe)
• Wednesday, August 20, 2025
• Inter Press Service

BULAWAYO, Zimbabwe, August 20 (IPS) - My family lost six herds of cattle during the devastating El Niño-driven drought that swept Zimbabwe in 2024. The loss was as emotional as it was financial. Guilt gnawed at me.

Drought was nothing new—the past three years had made it painfully clear that I needed to supplement the cows’ feed and ferry water from kilometers away just to keep them alive. But I was fighting a losing battle, desperately trying to sustain emaciated, skeletal animals. Eventually, I had to accept the inevitable: climate change had killed our cattle, and I had been complicit in their suffering.

Have I moved on? Not really. At first, I told myself my distress was an overreaction. After all, countless farmers lost hundreds of livestock and watched their crops wither to nothing. They had suffered more and lost more than I was crying over. Stress, I reasoned, was simply part of the job.

Journalists report on climate change without being personally affected—or so I thought. I was wrong.

Climate change doesn’t just destroy landscapes and livelihoods; it takes a psychological toll on journalists who highlight its horrors.

A groundbreaking study by Dr. Antony Feinstein, a psychologist at the University of Toronto, reveals a hidden crisis: journalists covering the climate crisis are suffering profound emotional and mental health consequences. The research presented during a discussion organized by the Oxford Climate Journalists Network (OCJN) surveyed 268 journalists across 90 countries, spanning Africa, Asia, Europe, and the Americas.

The findings are staggering and spoke to me. Forty percent of journalists reported experiencing depression, while one in five exhibited symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), often linked to the “moral injury” of bearing witness to environmental destruction. More than half (55 percent) of the journalists said they lacked access to psychological support, and 16 percent had taken time off work for mental health reasons as a result of covering climate change stories.

The numbers grow even grimmer: nearly half of the journalists surveyed reported moderate to severe anxiety (48%) and depression (42%). Around 22% showed prominent PTSD symptoms. Worse still, 30% had been directly impacted by climate change—losing family, friends, or homes to the crisis. I counted myself in that statistic. I may not have lost a family member, a friend or a home but if cattle count as part of my life, I was affected.

As a journalist reporting on climate change in Zimbabwe—one of the world’s most vulnerable nations—these findings hit close to home. They exposed a fragility I had long dismissed as just part of the job.

Journalists need psychological support. Stigma about mental health runs deep and how do I tell friends and family that I am not okay reporting a story on the impacts of droughts, worse that I have witnessed the loss of six cattle because I could not save them when the drought decimated pastures and dried water supplies? So what? negative events are normal and feeling bad is, I guess, normal too? I have had a lingering question. Surely I can be unsettled by the deaths of cattle and listening to the desperate narratives of farmers about how climate change has upended their lives?

I was depressed, sad, and guilty. I could not do anything to stop cattle dying nor could I pacify farmers in pain. The trauma in covering catastrophe after catastrophe is numbing. Journalists who report on climate change are witnessing a global crisis of our time, and they need support to deliver the news without sacrificing their mental health.

Witnessing tragic events carries a heavy burden for journalists who report on them. I recall covering a story about the impact of drought on livestock farmers in Matabeleland, Zimbabwe’s northern province, where farmers were sharing their staple maize with their cows to keep them alive. Many lost more, some three, five and six cattle between them, but they did give up, though despair was scrawled on their faces. I was shocked and numbed by listening to their sad narrations, but I had to get the story out. I felt hopeless.

Getting a “good” story out of bad experiences means I have to make a tough choice of putting my feelings aside and getting the job done. I have not acknowledged the mental load of witnessing the trauma of covering disasters, yet journalists are supposedly resilient to disturbing news and they soldier on. But no. I have experienced depression at the thought of how people bounce back from personal loss when climate change hits. It is a horror movie that continuously plays in my mind as I go about reporting.

Journalists would benefit from a comprehensive support programme to help them step away from the pressure of being witnesses to catastrophic events. The trauma is beyond comprehension; there is no justification to suffer in silence, especially when mental stress is not talked about in public but endured in private. As a journalist, I have been a victim.

How do I separate myself, my mind and my emotions from the sad stories I cover? I do not have an answer. I am convinced that journalists should tell climate change stories but not be forced to live the reality, although that is almost impossible. Many like me are living the stories they tell with deep scars of mental fatigue and regret.

I believe that newsrooms can offer support in terms of preparing journalists to have the mental agility to report on crises without taking strain from reporting them. Moreover, the impacts of climate change, which is a defining story of the century, affect everyone. Those who say so are at the forefront of agitation, anguish, and hopelessness.

The climate crisis is breaking more than just ecosystems—it’s breaking the journalists who tell its story.

IPS UN Bureau Report

© Inter Press Service (20250820110016) — All Rights Reserved. Original source: Inter Press Service

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