Those prominent editors-in-chief who once claimed that the climate story was „the most important of our time“ should be embarrassed about the following survey: since 2021, newsrooms worldwide have reduced the volume of reporting on climate change by 38 per cent. This is reported by the Media and Climate Change Observatory at the University of Colorado in Boulder, which has been collecting data for 22 years – which makes for a meaningful statistical basis.
Now, some might argue that quantity doesn’t say anything about quality. Haven’t experts always advised that journalists should offer the public fewer, but more compelling, pieces? As the author of the 2023 report ‘Climate Journalism That Works’, I have often made similar recommendations. Those who have taken this advice to heart may feel less concerned by the numbers. However, it is a fact that in recent years newsrooms have had to focus on so many pressing crises that many have scaled back climate coverage simply to cope with the workload. Elsewhere there has been political pressure. Media outlets such as the Washington Postand the major American TV networks have pushed the topic into less visible corners if not been scrapped altogether. Funders – and consequently research institutions – are also pulling back. For instance, the Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism has discontinued its training and networking programme, the Oxford Climate Journalism Network, at the end of 2025.
Meanwhile, the UN is preparing people for a record-breaking heatwave, exacerbated by the El Niño effect. The World Meteorological Organisation (WMO) warned at the end of March that the climate is increasingly spiralling out of control. The World Economic Forum (WEF) lists climate-related effects at the very top of its scale of global risks. And for the majority of the world’s population, the threat has long since become a reality. This even applies to the US, the heartland of energy consumption, as the Yale Centre for Climate Change Communication regularly reports.
What does this mean for journalism? Is it time for a grand wake-up rant? Or are newsrooms actually getting something right (see above: less can be more)? In any case, the media can learn something from the ups and downs of climate coverage when it comes to other long-running issues, as has already become apparent with Ukraine and the Middle East.
Firstly, let’s start with some praise. This may come as a surprise to those expecting some outrage here. But the fact that most people refer to climate change when faced with unusual weather conditions – whether this is accurate in each individual case or not – is down to the knowledgeable and consistent reporting by journalists. Even if this coverage varies in intensity, it has raised awareness in many parts of the world. This might lead to the paradoxical effect that readers scroll past when they encounter the word ‘climate’, providing less a case of ignorance than an ‘I already know that’ reaction. Readers of The Guardian, for example, often justify their voluntary payments by saying they want ‘others’ to be able to read the newsroom’s good climate reporting for free, as CEO Anna Bateson once explained.
Secondly, it’s not quantity that counts; quality is what matters. Too much of the same old thing leads to news fatigue, whereas well-researched, well-presented and human-centred stories in formats tailored to the particular audience are captivating. But this quality comes at a cost. Excellent reporting on climate change, major geopolitical situations and other protracted yet significant developments require specialists who are allowed to invest time – especially in the age of AI. Depending on their talents and expertise, these reporters can establish themselves as personal brands, or they can act in an advisory capacity to colleagues who manage and run formats with a wide reach. It helps if senior management communicates clear expectations. “We want a climate (Ukraine/Gaza) story in the weekly top 10 most-recommended pieces” sends a more effective signal than “we mustn’t forget the climate issue”.
Thirdly, catering to different audiences does not mean pandering to them, but rather making important content widely accessible. In recent years, many newsrooms have done well in focusing on audiences and their needs. Whereas journalism used to be overwhelmingly whatever journalists deemed newsworthy – be it ‘because that’s how it’s done’, because they enjoyed it, or to impress their editor-in-chief – concepts such as ‘audiences first’ or ‘user needs’ have shifted the focus from the broadcaster to the recipient. Admittedly, the changing range of coverage has often been motivated by media organisation’s own hopes for subscriptions, memberships or donors more than by the desire to fulfil audiences’ needs. Reporting about relationships, sex, parenting and crime is now prevalent even in outlets that used to focus on politics, international relations and highbrow culture. But there’s nothing wrong with learning from popular content. Amalie Kestler, editor-in-chief of the Danish daily newspaper Politiken, once said that they were doing exactly that with climate coverage: the newsroom identifies which stories are important to convey but may be dry and complex and at the same time analyses which ones go down well with readers. It then tries to learn from the latter how to breathe more life into the former.
Fourthly, even with long-running topics, there are blind spots to be discovered. One reason is journalists’ herd mentality. “They’re all copying off each other” the public legitimately complains. They wonder why they suddenly find interviews with a particular film star everywhere (their new film is coming out, hooray, there are press interviews), happen to come across atmospheric shots from the same Ukrainian village (a press pool is taken to a safe distance from the front line), or learn why strength training is important in old age (there was a study or something went viral on TikTok). Other topics, by contrast, struggle because they never make it into the reach spiral. After the attacks on Iran, for example, it took a surprisingly long time for the economic impact of the war to be explained, including the consequences for tourism. Transport and logistics reporters apparently needed a while to break it to their political colleagues with their ‘he said, she said’ routine. And amidst all the excitement surrounding AI and its consequences, even four years after the launch of ChatGPT, the technology’s carbon footprint is still being underreported. The facts are well known in the boardrooms of tech firms, but newsrooms seem to deliberately ignore them amid all the hype surrounding AI tools. This, by the way, sometimes happens with those same editors-in-chief who previously championed more climate journalism. Strong journalism means surfacing what’s not being reported on.
Fifthly, identify perennial topics that generate clicks even though they annoy the audience. Who hasn’t heard the complaint among their acquaintances that one ‘constantly has to read about Trump’? When internal editorial metrics show that readers still click on such headlines, it usually has to do with personalisation. Just a thought experiment: if the climate were a powerful figure capable of bringing great misfortune upon humanity – what would the coverage look like? Apparently, many an influential figure manages, through erratic behaviour, to repeatedly achieve those surprise effects that entice readers to click through, despite everything being entirely predictable. This US president is to daily political reporting what wildfires, earthquakes and floods are to climate journalism: a single, terrifying catastrophe that captivates everyone time and again. But clicks don’t necessarily translate into action. Despite all their efforts to educate the public about the harms to democracy and entire groups of the American populace, newsrooms failed to prevent a Trump administration from happening. When it comes to climate change, journalism has to do better.
This column was published in German with Medieninsider on 10th April 2026.