Lucy Siegle has dedicated her career to making the climate crisis and sustainability accessible and actionable for all. As a journalist, author, and broadcaster, she’s tackled the intersection of ethics, consumerism, and the natural world, offering insights that resonate beyond traditional environmental circles. From her long-running Observer column, Ethical Living, to reporting for BBC One’s The One Show and her acclaimed documentary The True Cost, Siegle has consistently highlighted the power of individual action within the broader push for systemic change.
In this conversation, she reflects on her early connection to nature, her frustrations with the narratives surrounding climate action, and the role of storytelling in preparing for a world transformed by the environmental challenges already here and ahead.
I’ve always been interested in ecology – it’s just part of who I am. For my eighth birthday, my granddad gave me a bird book. It wasn’t just a little bird-spotting book; it was proper. Even then, people saw my connection to nature. My grandparents lived in a very suburban area, in a small bungalow, so I wasn’t a rural child by any stretch, but my granddad’s interest in ecology stuck with me.
I spent a lot of time with my grandparents, and my granddad’s views made me think about things differently. At the same time, I moved around a lot as a child – 15 schools in total – so I was always having to reintroduce myself and figure out where I fit in. When my family moved to Totnes in Devon, I didn’t like it at all. Totnes is very green, but I found the people there sanctimonious. I felt like an outsider because my dad worked in a meat factory, and it was a very vegan place. From a very early age, I was grappling with what it meant to be seen as a ‘planet saver,’ a ‘hippie,’ or an ‘earth defender.’ All those labels could feel pejorative, but I also saw an opportunity to reframe them.
That sense of being an outsider shaped a lot of what I did early on. When I wrote my first book, Green Living in the Urban Jungle, it was my attempt to work something out. Looking back, it’s quite embarrassing – full of phallic chili peppers – but it reflected where I was at the time! I was living in southwest London and trying to show people that ethical living was possible in the city. I borrowed an electric bike for a feature and wrote about my experience riding around Battersea and Lavender Hill. That was in the early 2000s, and no one was talking about electric bikes then. Fast forward to now, and they’re everywhere.
Ethical living, organic food, low-traffic neighbourhoods – they all come in waves. I feel like we’re in one of those moments again. There’s a real energy around these ideas. But at the same time, we pour cold water on them too quickly. There’s this narrative that it’s all just about consumerism, but I think it’s more than that. It’s about rehearsing for a future we’re not yet living in. We know the future is going to be different, so we need to practice for it. What will it feel like? What will it taste like? What will it look like? That’s where individual actions come in.
There’s a narrative now that says, "It’s not about individual actions; it’s about systemic change." But how do you get systemic change if people aren’t practicing the behaviours that will help them feel comfortable in that future. I’ve run out of patience with the argument that individual actions don’t matter. Of course, we need systems to change, but individual actions are how we prepare ourselves.
During COVID, people turned to growing their own food, cycling, and cutting down on waste. Those actions weren’t just practical – they were about imagining and rehearsing what life could look like in a world with less waste and more care for our surroundings.
There’s no reason we can’t talk about the transition to clean energy with the same emotion and reverence we’ve used for fossil fuels.
When I started out in TV, I’d do segments at decommissioned fossil fuel plants. There was always this sense of nostalgia – you’d meet engineers and workers who’d kept the lights on during tough times. Their stories were told with emotion and respect. But where are the equivalent stories for renewables? Turbines are incredible feats of engineering. The people maintaining them work in extreme conditions. There are amazing innovations, like making turbine blades from fabric so they’re easier to recycle. These are heroic stories, but they’re not being told in the same way.
I think we need to use a poetic lens to show the beauty and ingenuity of renewables. There’s no reason we can’t talk about the transition to clean energy with the same emotion and reverence we’ve used for fossil fuels. It’s about showing people what’s possible and helping them feel part of the change.
This kind of storytelling doesn’t just apply to energy – it’s needed in every space where climate action is happening, especially at global events like COP. I’ve been to COP three times, and each time I’ve seen the same gap between perception and reality. From the outside, people think it’s one thing, but when you’re there, you see the hard work people are doing – people who’ve dedicated their lives to this space.
At the same time, there are parts of COP that make me deeply uncomfortable. The sponsored after-hours private clubs, for one – they don’t reflect the urgency of the climate crisis. Why are we exporting the worst parts of our culture to the architecture of climate and nature? It’s disheartening. But despite its flaws, COP is a system we need. It’s the architecture of change we’ve signed up to. What’s the alternative? For me, it’s about getting the right people there and making sure they’re heard.
Real change doesn’t work like that. It’s complex, it’s emotional, and it’s human
I’ve never liked the pressure to include neat solutions in every climate story. It can feel forced, like you’re tying everything up in a bow to make it more palatable. Real change doesn’t work like that. It’s complex, it’s emotional, and it’s human. Sometimes, just telling the truth is enough. And sometimes, that truth is messy. That’s okay. Sustainability communication needs to embrace the messiness. Not everything has a solution yet, and that’s part of the story too. If we’re going to navigate a future shaped by climate change, we need to be honest about where we are and where we’re falling short. That’s how we rehearse for the future – and that’s how we get ready for it.
I get frustrated with the gatekeepers in media who underestimate audiences. They’ll say, "Nobody wants to read about climate change." But where’s the evidence for that? I think audiences are ready for these stories – they just need to be told in ways that resonate. We’ve seen how powerful storytelling can be, like with plastics after Blue Planet II. When people rejected plastic packaging, it forced brands and retailers to act. That wasn’t just awareness – it was action.
We need to see more stories like that. We need to show people what’s possible, what’s already happening, and what they can do to help. That’s how we create change – by giving people the tools to imagine a better future and the confidence to rehearse it.
As told to Charlotte Owen-Burge in December 2024. This conversation was edited & condensed for clarity.
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