Victor Guerrero Diez/Shutterstock

Each year, the world loses around 5 million hectares of forest, with 95% of this deforestation occurring in tropical regions. South America is a major hotspot, with Brazil in particular facing severe forest loss — much of it driven by cattle ranching, which accounts for more than 70% of all Amazon deforestation.

Many of these clearings are carried out by farmers, particularly smallholders, who are trying to cope with intensifying drought and other effects of climate change. This leads to a paradox: the people most exposed to climate threats are often pushed by survival pressures to make choices that further degrade the environment.

Imagine standing in a field of dry, cracked soil, watching the crops you planted with hope fail to grow. It hasn’t rained in months. You know that planting trees could help protect your land and water sources in the long run. But you need food next week.

So instead, you clear some forest to sell timber and raise a few cows — a choice that might get you through the season, even if it further reduces soil moisture and water retention on your own farm.

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As one farmer told me: “The problem is: does the agricultural producer die now, or does he die later? Now, he dies of hunger. Later, he dies of thirst. He prefers to die later of thirst.”

This is what my team of environmental researchers calls a “climate trap”: a vicious cycle where short-term survival decisions deepen long-term climate vulnerability. Our recent study investigates this phenomenon among smallholder cocoa producers in the south of the Brazilian state of Bahia.

We tracked more than 3,000 farms over four years and conducted dozens of interviews with farmers. One of our most striking findings was that those most affected by droughts were less likely to employ adaptive strategies such as reforestation, and more likely to make environmentally harmful choices such as clearing forest for pasture.

This contrasts sharply with research from high-income countries, where more exposure to climate risks typically encourages protective action. Why the difference?

The answer, according to our research, lies in emotion. Many farmers spoke of fear and hopelessness. One told us: “We plant, replant and it dies. Plant, replant, it dies. There’s no rain! Everything we took care of, everything we watered, everything we did with love. It’s no use!”

These emotions influence decisions. When fear and hopelessness set in, people naturally narrow their focus to the short term — what can I control today?

dry farmland, single green plant
Climate shocks such as drought trigger emotional distress, which can lead to environmentally harmful choices that increase vulnerability. Scott Book/Shutterstock

The future becomes too uncertain, too frightening to plan for. As one farmer explained: “Today, I work more in the short term. I’m worried about today’s drought, okay? I’m not starting to think about next year’s drought or in two years’ time.”

Even when farmers understand that long-term strategies like reforestation would help, those solutions can feel unattainable under emotional and economic stress.

We call this a maladaptive feedback loop: climate shocks trigger emotional distress, which limits long-term thinking, leading to environmentally harmful choices that further increase vulnerability to future shocks. And the cycle repeats.

Learning from the loop

Climate traps are real and probably more widespread than many people realise. Similar dynamics have been reported in parts of Africa, Asia and across the developing world. These are the communities facing the brunt of climate change with the fewest resources to respond.

To spot climate traps, businesses and governments need to recognise when short-term incentives are driving long-term harm. If a decision solves an immediate problem but increases climate risk over time, it may be part of a trap.

They need to watch out for indicators such as repeated deforestation after droughts, or a shift from sustainable crops to quick-fix options such as cattle pasture. In areas heavily affected by climate change, these responses often signal a deeper cycle of short-term survival and long-term vulnerability.

Also, listen out for resignation. Phrases like “there’s no point” and “we just survive however we can” or “there’s nothing we can do except pray for a change” may signal emotional fatigue — which points to a loss of agency and diminished belief in the usefulness of long-term action.

When people no longer believe their efforts can make a difference, even the best technical solutions are likely to be ignored.

Climate adaptation is about more than just providing technical solutions. In our study, producers were well aware of the pros and cons of their practices. The real barriers were emotional.

We believe interventions need to address fear and hopelessness directly — through the use of safety nets, financial buffers and community-led support systems, as well as narratives that rebuild a sense of control and agency. Reducing hopelessness requires not just money but presence. Trusted advisors, peer learning networks and visible examples of successful adaptation can all help.

Avoiding climate traps isn’t easy. But for climate adaptation to succeed — especially where it’s needed most — we have to stop treating emotions as a side issue. They’re central. The solutions we offer must speak to both the mind and the heart.

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This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Lucrezia Nava, University of Exeter

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Lucrezia Nava does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.