In February 2006 George Marshall (Co-Executive Director of the Climate Outreach Information Network, See www.coinet.org.uk) addressed a conference of 180 Christians who are concerned about climate change and want to take effective action (see Operation Noah in Oxford). He wondered if people of faith have a particular contribution to make. He asked why, given that so much reliable evidence for global warming has accumulated, and the future will be so dire if the process continues, do so few people, especially among the powerful, take it seriously. These were challenging questions and what follows is my response.

I write as a Christian, and a psychiatrist with psychoanalytic experience. I worked and taught for twelve years in a hospice, and see similarities between the ways individuals cope with the news that they may soon die and how we in the West are reacting to the threat that life on our planet earth could be utterly changed or even end. Since the death of my husband two years ago I have sold our rather large house and bought an ordinary semi-detached one which I am making suitable for growing old, and as green as possible (see Ecohouse). By doing this I hope to demonstrate that there is a lot that ordinary people can do and inspire others to do as much as each one can.

Denial is a mental mechanism we often use when confronted with some unpalatable truth. Because it is unconscious it is not open to reason. Under its influence, even people trained to weigh evidence are able to ignore findings that would ordinarily convince them, though they may make strenuous efforts to refute them, (which suggests that at some level they do believe. It happens to protect them from responding in the way they would feel compelled to if they believed the facts that are staring them in the face.) These reactions were easy to see in the behaviour of tobacco companies when the link between smoking and lung cancer became clear. This threatened a very lucrative industry, and the cost of taking it on board could not be contemplated.

Denial is not always bad. It allows patients who have just learned that they may soon die to take in this news gradually. If they realised immediately the full implication of what they had just been told they might be overwhelmed by distress. Instead they say they don't believe it, there must be a cure, they will soon be well, etc. but they often show that they do partly know by doing such things as making a will. Most people, given time and support, come to terms with what is happening and find a measure of peace.

Existential denial is the mechanism whereby we are enabled to ignore, most of the time, the hazards of every day life: the risks we take when we cross a busy road, climb a ladder, drive a car. When this defence breaks down, people are terified of what might happen, however unlikely. Their lives are curtailed by paralysing anxiety and we regard them as ill.

So what about denial and climate change? Its use allows greedy economies to grow and drivers to enjoy their gas guzzlers without guilt. It relieves people from thinking they should fly less or consider air miles when buying food; it means there is no need to worry about rising sea levels unless water is already about to encroach on your house etc. A variation on this defence is displacement. Under the guise of being responsible and cautious, those in power call for more research, set up committees etc. although there is quite enough information available already. The energy that should have gone into measures to combat the threat is displaced into these activities, so it appears that something necessary is being done, but unpopular measures are not taken and the problem worsens. Hillman and Fawcett * write

It would seem that attitudes, perceptions and the preferred behaviour of individuals stand in the way of the wide adoption of sustainable lifestyles owing to difficulties of facing up to unpalatable truths. We do not appear to be prepared to do so, preferring instead to continue down a road that we already know to be leading to ecological catastrophe. However, understanding the psychological processes that lie behind the excuses should not be used as grounds for further delay. Instead, it should motivate us to face up to the situation and move more speedily towards effective action before it is too late.

A direct challenge to a defence does not work. It results in reinforcement, a hardening of attitudes, so some other strategy must be used. Denial is meant to protect us from the suffering that might ensue if we accept unpalatable truths. The more we learn to accept suffering, the less we need to defend ourselves against such truth. Most people are able to accept pain if:

(2) they think they will be able to bear it, even though they may need help in doing so. Thus a patient may agree to a mutilating operation if it will save his life; athletes undergo long and rigorous training in the hope of winning a prize; women accept the difficulties of pregnancy and childbirth to have a baby. Many people are also willing to suffer for the sake of someone they love, or a member of their own group. Only rather special people will make painful sacrifices for someone they do not know, perhaps on the other side of the world. The surge of generosity and compassion that follows some disasters may seem to negate that notion, but I think these commendable responses are motivate partly through the mechanism of identification, where we think `How would I feel if it happened to me, or my family?' Only a few dedicated helpers stay on, and generous promises are often unfulfilled once the drama is over.

People of faith are motivated by something outside their own small lives. They believe God created the world in all its beauty, order, splendour and terror, and that we are intended to enjoy it and care for it. They think that, if they did so properly, there would be enough resources for all. They also feel loved and valued by God in a personal way. They want to please him and do what he asks, so they are obedient, trusting that what seems to be asked of them will be for the best, even if the prospect is daunting or they do not understand the reason why. They trust that they will be supported by their faith, and often that of their friends too, and many believe that in some way they will survive, even if obedience ends in death.

People of faith know the power of the suffering of an innocent person, and a death that is chosen, to bring about change in an entrenched situation. (I do not mean self-inflicted suffering, though this has its own power and is used as a last ditch means of communication by some who are otherwise helpless). Jesus, murdered because he challenged corrupt authorities (who would have had to change their life styles if they believed him!) is a striking example. If he had disappeared into the wilderness when he realised there was a plot to have him executed, his fine words would soon have been forgotten. But he was obedient to God, whom he experienced as a Father, stuck to his principles, and was killed. Afterwards his disciples felt empowered by his spirit as if he were alive again in them. His story and teaching is still precious to millions today.

There are other great lives that follow this pattern, though Christians believe Jesus was unique because he was God himself, insofar as the divine can be contracted into one person. The human race, though loved by God, would not listen to all the prophets who told them how to live, so as a last resort he became a man in order to show them. Actions speak louder than words.

Bearing psychological pain is hard. It can be worse than physical pain and more difficult to relieve. It can make a person think he is going crazy, and there is a small possibility that he might. No wonder we often have recourse to denial! As our capacity to bear pain and see beyond it increases, (a function of maturity in the deepest sense), we resort less and less to psychological defences. If we come to believe through repeated experience that suffering cannot destroy us and that endurance brings unexpected rewards, we become able to face it, even though at times we may ask to be let off, as Jesus did. This is growing in faith. Sometimes I call it 'tether stretching!' The mechanism of identification also plays a part in this growth. Through prayer and commitment Christians may gradually become identified with the person of Jesus, behaving as they think he would if he were in their shoes now. This is a profound process and can lead to enduring changes for good rather than the more fleeting surges of compassion referred to earlier.

What I am doing to my house provides an example. I am a vulnerable person who has needed much therapy to be released from the effects of a traumatic childhood, so I already had some experience of suffering. The death of my husband two years ago brought intense grief. I tried not to escape from this pain. Instead I asked that God would bring good out of it and/or teach me new things I needed to learn. I did not want Brian to die, but it would not, for good reasons, have been possible to move to a house like this if he were still alive. I felt almost commanded, in a gentle way, to move into a very ordinary house, make it suitable for growing old, and as green as possible. Carrying out such a project without him, and with no knowledge of how to set about it, has been a huge challenge. Leaving my home, which was very gracious, and my garden, which I love very much, and moving to a house which needed so much attention and a garden of weeds and rubble, has been intensely painful at times. Sometimes I thought it was my Gethsemane.

It did not always seem bleak because I feel God was pleased with what I was doing, as Jesus knew God was pleased with him. I have also received support from friends. As the project became known, press coverage followed and the excitement and ensuing admiration was cheering. Now it has grown beyond my wildest dreams. Everyone working on site seems to be enjoying it: they are learning new skills or exercising ones that most construction methods no longer require. The driver of the tipper truck says it is an eye opener. Everyone feels part of something notable, particularly since the project was short-listed for one of the Observer ethical awards). Then the place was over run by a film crew for an afternoon and a few of the men knew they might be on T.V! One of the builders has volunteered to photograph the work as it progresses for the web-site we are creating (some of Michael Graves' photos can be seen at Ecohouse- later stages 2).

I have already run a crowded workshop, together with one of the architects. They have been asked to present the project to the annual conference on sustainable building of the Building Research Establishment. And all this because an elderly widow did as she was told, and trusted she would be able to cope with the uncomfortable consequences. To continue the Christian metaphor, Gethsemane has moved on to Easter.

Not all faith is good, of course. It can produce dangerous fanatics. The test lies in the quality of life it produces. Jesus valued and exhibited love and compassion above all else. He valued justice, tempered with mercy. He had a special concern for the poor. He dared to condemn some of the religious people of his day and we must have the courage to discriminate too. Jesus did not say anything about global warming, but he grew up in a tradition that believes god made the earth, that is good, and that man is meant to enjoy it and care for it. If he were teaching now, I am sure there would be a parable about carbon footprints.