From knowing to doing: closing the climate adaptation gap

A recent study shows 89% of people are aware of climate change, yet over 80% still take no action. Why does awareness fail to become resilience?

While walking through the coastal belts of Khulna in Bangladesh or talking to farmers along the Jamuna riverbank, you will not hear them talking in academic climate terminology. They may not say "climate change" or "adaptation," but they will tell you how saltwater creeps into paddies, how floods wash away homes, and how seasons defy predictability. In Bangladesh, climate challenges and awareness are not abstract; these are lived reality.

A study across 48 districts in Bangladesh, involving more than 5,000 respondents, confirms this striking awareness. Nearly nine in ten participants (89.3 percent) had heard of climate change and understood its risks. By this measure, Bangladesh is among the most climate-aware nations on earth. Yet here lies the paradox: more than four in five (82.8 percent) admitted they were doing nothing to adapt. Awareness is high, but action is alarmingly low.

Why do people who understand the dangers still fail to act? The answer lies not in apathy, but in two overlapping barriers. First, many adaptive practices already exist, but they remain invisible to policy and public discourse. Second, people are psychologically disempowered, feeling that their individual contributions are too small to matter.

Barrier 1: The invisibility of adaptation to governance

Communities across Bangladesh have been adapting for generations. Families in Barisal build floating gardens (locally known as dhap or baira) to ensure food security during floods, and villagers plant mangroves along the coast to diffuse tropical storm waves. Farmers in coastal Khulna cultivate saline-tolerant rice varieties. Households harvest rainwater, terrace fields, and plant trees to prevent erosion. These are proven climate-resilient practices, yet most people do not frame them as "adaptation." They are simply "survival." Because they remain unrecognized, they are often excluded from official strategies - and rarely scaled up.

This invisibility is not unique to Bangladesh. Across the globe, local ingenuity often outpaces official action. In the Indian Himalayas, women farmers are adapting to erratic rainfall by cultivating drought-resistant millet. In Peru's Andes mountains, indigenous Quechua people have established "potato parks" in collaboration with the International Centre for the Potato to preserve thousands of native potato varieties, thus acting as guardians of genetic heritage for long-term climate resilience. In Canada, First Nations' cultural burns consist of the purposeful use of fire to manage landscapes, increase biodiversity, and reduce the risk of catastrophic wildfires by both clearing underbrush and maintaining fire-dependent ecosystems. This practice is being revived to manage ecosystems and reduce wildfire risk. These practices are powerful, but they often struggle against systemic barriers, such as a lack of financial support or Western-trained agencies that have historically devalued indigenous ecological knowledge.

Barrier 2: Psychological barriers of powerlessness

The second barrier is psychological, and it relates directly to the feeling of powerlessness. Behavioral economists and psychologists describe this as an "intention-action gap". It is the disconnect between knowing what to do and actually doing it. According to the Theory of Planned Behavior, action requires a belief in one's ability to act and support from peers. Without these, intentions can collapse before becoming behavior.

The BRAC Institute of Governance and Development (BIGD) study vividly illustrates this collapse. The thousands of respondents who said they were "doing nothing" may not be expressing apathy, but rather a sense of futility, a form of what is known as "learned helplessness." When people feel their individual efforts are insignificant against large-scale threats like cyclones or rising seas, it becomes rational to cease action. This despair is intensified by pluralistic ignorance as people assume they are alone in their concerns.

A similar pattern is also evident in Australia, where, despite widespread concern over climate disasters, personal actions are often limited to low-effort behaviors like switching off lights or reducing food waste, while more impactful changes are far less common. These findings point to a shared psychological barrier: a pervasive feeling of misplaced trust and powerlessness when faced with institutional inaction. This inertia has grave consequences. When adaptation practices remain invisible, communities lose confidence in their own wisdom. When individuals underestimate their power, they disengage. Together, these dynamics create a "climate doom loop" where knowledge breeds anxiety but not sustained action.

What can we do to close the gap?

The solution lies in two critical shifts. First, we must recognize and elevate community-led practices. National Adaptation Plans should explicitly incorporate the indigenous practices as legitimate climate solutions. Financing mechanisms must be accessible to grassroots initiatives, not just megaprojects. Public campaigns should highlight these practices, naming them as "climate action." When a farmer in Bangladesh is told that her daily practices contribute to a national strategy, she gains confidence and validation.

Second, individual agency must be reinforced. Climate communication should emphasize collective impact, not only looming catastrophe. Research shows that hopeful narratives paired with visible success stories encourage engagement. Behavioral nudges, such as recognition programs or peer-to-peer learning, can sustain practices. Local leadership is critical: when schools, women's groups, or youth clubs lead adaptation efforts, they normalize action. People are far more likely to persist when they see their neighbors and peers doing the same.

Critics may argue that recognizing small-scale practices is symbolic and that only structural measures like embankments, cyclone shelters, and insurance systems can protect the vulnerable. This is a false dichotomy. Large-scale interventions are essential, but they cannot replace community ingenuity. Embankments hold rivers, but homestead forestry prevents soil erosion. Cyclone shelters save lives, but floating gardens sustain nutrition. Both are needed, and both must be valued.

Resilience IN action, not resilience inaction

Bangladesh has long been portrayed in global climate discourse as a victim, a country on the brink. Yet this narrative of vulnerability overlooks the extraordinary resilience already at work in its villages and towns. By recognizing these practices, we not only strengthen adaptation but also reframe Bangladesh as a contributor of solutions. The same is true globally: indigenous fire stewardship in Canada, potato parks in Peru, and agroecology in Kenya and Rwanda are not relics of the past but resources for the future.

The survey offers a sobering lesson. Awareness is widespread, yet action lags. This is not a failure of knowledge - but of recognition and agency. Closing this gap is not only about climate policy; it is about dignity, inclusion, and justice. Communities that are already adapting deserve acknowledgment, support, and amplification. Individuals who take small steps must be reminded that their actions matter and that resilience is built cumulatively.

If we can move from knowing to doing, Bangladesh and indeed the world will not just survive climate change, but shape the strategies to face it. Climate action will not be decided in conference halls alone. It will be forged in the rice fields of Khulna, the potato fields of the Andes, and the forests of Alberta. But only if we value what is already being done and empower those who are quietly adapting every day.

Md. Mahbub Ul Hassan Sharan is a Senior Research Associate at the BRAC Institute of Governance and Development (BIGD). His research focuses on the critical nexus of climate change adaptation, climate-induced migration, and the vulnerability of the urban ultra-poor to increasing climatic shocks. He also serves as a Senior Analyst for the BRAC Ultra Poor Graduation Programme, contributing expertise in Poverty, Water, Sanitation, and Integrated Development Projects.