PLANET Atom’s Futures
Detoxing the Planet Means Detoxing the Feed: Rethinking Environmentalism in the Age of Algorithms
We’re instructed to turn off the tap during brushing, avoid plastic straws, and plant trees – pragmatic actions for a sustainable future. Yet, while we focus on making our gardens greener, our screens continue subtly warming up the Earth. The virtual world, which we envision as abstract and pure, is a silent contributor to environmental degradation. Scrolling, swiping, streaming, and sharing draw power, which, in many cases, comes from fossil fuels. Meanwhile, what we read (fear-mongering news headlines, misinformation, and outrage performing) frames our view on climate change, tending to immobilise us rather than enlighten us.
This essay argues that detoxing the Earth begins with detoxing the feed. If we are to tackle the environmental crisis effectively, we need to address both the tangible carbon price of online life and the mental pollution it propagates. With conscious tech habits, climate media literacy, and nature-infused digital practices, young people can spearhead a new form of environmentalism – one that starts in the mind.
The reality is that our online existence has a significant environmental toll that tends to be invisible to users. The internet is not ethereal. According to the International Energy Agency, in 2022, worldwide data centres accounted for between 240–340 TWh – about 1–1.3% of worldwide electricity consumption¹. Adding cryptocurrency mining at another 110 TWh, the overall electric usage in the digital sector exceeds 350–450 TWh, about 1.5–1.7% of the world’s electricity. The IEA forecasts that this can double to about 1,000 TWh by 2026, driven by AI, streaming, and cryptocurrency activities².
Even small digital actions add up to enormous emissions. Watching one hour of streaming produces approximately 36g of CO₂³. Although that appears minuscule, it adds up to hundreds of millions of tons per year because of worldwide usage rates. Large-scale AI models worsen the issue – a single large training session may create more than 280 tons of CO₂, which is roughly equal to around 125 round-trip trans-Pacific flights⁴.
Despite this, digital pollution is often absent from environmental discourse. We scrutinise fast fashion and plastic packaging, but ignore the emissions through our endless scrolling. As youth are among the heaviest users of digital platforms, they unwittingly contribute to this invisible footprint. Initiatives like Low Tech Magazine (a website that is powered by solar energy and shuts down during nighttime) and the Sustainable Web Design movement are examples of young people’s innovations in lowering digital energy consumption⁵. But these concepts must transition from the periphery to the centre.
The harm extends far beyond our devices’ and data centres’ carbon footprint. The cognitive pollution that overloads our mental bandwidth through the same digital media is just as harmful. Falsehoods, oversimplified truths, and emotionally manipulative information overwhelm online spaces. The Centre for Countering Digital Hate reported in 2021 that 12 people accounted for over 65% of all climate misinformation shared online.6 Simultaneously, greenwashing – the selling of goods as “eco-friendly” without any substantive environmental impact – misinforms caring consumers and co-opts youth environmentalism for financial gain.
30% of Americans continue to question the scientific consensus on climate change, a figure fueled by algorithmic echo chambers and organised disinformation efforts, according to a Yale Program on Climate Communication study⁷. A 2021 study by the EU Commission found that 42% of green claims were overstated or misleading⁸. Phrases such as “carbon neutral” or “net zero” frequently hide ongoing emissions or carbon offset loopholes, leading to confusion among young people who wish to make responsible decisions.
Even when not misleading, constant exposure to bleak headlines can be detrimental. “Climate doomism” – the belief that it’s too late to act – leads to eco-anxiety and burnout. In a landmark survey published in The Lancet, 59% of young people said they felt “very” or “extremely” worried about climate change, and more than 45% reported feelings of helplessness and despair⁹. A recent American Psychological Association study found that over 57% of Gen Z youth report feeling “paralyzed” by climate news¹⁰.
This emotional fatigue undermines agency. The addictive design of digital platforms – built to maximise screen time, not truth – creates fertile ground for distraction and despair. The same algorithms that serve up sea turtles and wildfires also amplify conspiracy theories, climate denial, and eco-anxiety. Climate change, as philosopher Timothy Morton calls it, is a “hyperobject” – so vast and interconnected that it cannot be understood by the human mind¹¹. Without clear narratives and resilient psychological tools, youth are either overwhelmed into inaction or drawn into ineffective, symbolic activism.
This dual crisis of carbon and cognition can only be resolved if young people start thinking anew, tackling both aspects at the same time. The process begins by establishing climate media literacy – the capacity to analyse online environmental materials, recognise greenwashing, and know where to find credible sources. Programs such as Carbon Brief for Schools and Project Drawdown’s “Climate Solutions 101” assist children in learning systems thinking and how to critically evaluate climate claims¹².
Traditional curricula often teach environmental science through isolated facts and provide little guidance on how the complex systems of the Earth interconnect. Research by media psychologists and environmental educators increasingly supports the observation that digital overload reduces our capacity for systems thinking – the approach needed for confronting climate change¹³. Constant scrolling fragments attention and discourages the deeper reflection needed for collective action. Research by Stanford and the University of British Columbia demonstrates that systems-based environmental education enhances retention and resilience, leading students to be more likely to take sustained action¹⁴.
Secondly, we need to rethink digital detox not as an escape, but as a resistance. An emerging body of research indicates that contact with nature enhances mental health and ecological empathy. A University of Exeter study found that just 120 minutes a week spent in nature can cut cortisol levels and build pro-environmental behavior¹⁵. Digital detox schemes – wherein people actively lower screen time or avoid specific platforms – have been touted to rebuild concentration, cut down on eco-anxiety, and reconnect people to the outdoors.
In France, some schools are experimenting with “screen-free zones” with outdoor learning and climate awareness¹⁶. These interventions are not only about reducing energy consumption but reconnecting students to the sensory world often lost behind screens. Neuroscience supports this approach; experiments demonstrate that time spent in nature, especially when free from devices, enhances cognitive functions, emotional regulation, and environmental empathy¹⁷.
Youth-led initiatives show how digital platforms can be reclaimed for clarity, not confusion. Programs like Earthrise Studio and Fridays for Future have shown how to centre science, share diverse stories, and reject the aesthetics of fear. Young creators are transforming climate narratives through counter-messaging. On TikTok and Instagram, Gen Z influencers use humour, storytelling, and visuals to shift from crisis to constructive, community-based narratives. This pivot from paralysis to participation – what scholars call “constructive hope” – may be the most vital intervention of all¹⁸.
However, individual mindfulness alone cannot address the structural problems embedded in our digital systems. Platforms are intentionally engineered for maximum engagement, often at the cost of truth, wellbeing, and sustainability. That’s why detoxing the feed must be paired with systemic advocacy. Young climate movements are increasingly demanding that technology companies publicly report carbon footprints, shift to renewable-powered data centres, and redesign interfaces to minimise infinite scroll and algorithmic manipulation. Ethical design can do a lot to cut down digital harm, as stated by the Mozilla Foundation¹⁹. In the same way that plastic manufacturers were held responsible for waste, technology companies need to be made responsible for their environmental and psychological emissions.
Moreover, young people can support open-source, low-carbon tech solutions and urge transparency from platforms on energy consumption. The cultural narratives around environmental action need to change as well. The prevailing metaphors – “saving the Earth,” “waging war on climate change,” “net zero” – tend to inspire binary, military, or fantastical frames. Psychologists propose a change in language: from fear to stewardship, from war to care²⁰. This linguistic detox is the building block, as philosopher George Lakoff famously said, “You can’t reason without a metaphor”²¹.
The path ahead requires understanding that environmental and digital wellness are interconnected issues which need integrated solutions. The digital and environmental realms are no longer mutually exclusive; they are deeply intertwined. Just as the last century presented industrial pollution, this century presents informational and cognitive pollution, shaping what we believe, fear, and do.
Young people are digital natives and climate leaders, uniquely positioned to drive change. By demanding platforms that are sustainable, practising mindful consumption, and crafting powerful counter-narratives, they are rebuilding environmentalism for the algorithmic age. The climate crisis is not simply an issue of emissions but a problem of attention. It is not what we burn but what we believe, share, and ignore.
Detox the feed if you wish to detox the planet. Not in fear, but for a reason: to make room for truth, creativity, and action against the greatest challenge this generation has known. Leadership does not manifest primarily in strikes or speeches but in a quieter discipline: digital self-awareness, media discernment, and systemic rethinking. Detoxing the feed is not a retreat – it’s a strategic step forward to reclaim the narrative, our attention, and the planet.
By: Aahana Sigtia
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