When Mike Smith looks back at his life, the turn he took from US Navy fighter pilot to tree planter and climate entrepreneur feels inevitable. As a child in central Idaho he watched the Lowman fire sweep through nearby forest; the blaze left an image that stayed with him — charred land and a sky that looked apocalyptic. Years later, returning with his wife, he found the same blackened ground still unrecovered. That memory pushed him into reforestation projects, carbon-offset tree planting and eventually a climate tech company helping businesses cut emissions.
Smith also noticed an imbalance: more women than men working in climate fields. That observation lines up with a well-documented ‘green gender gap’ — the tendency for women to express greater concern about climate change than men. Political scientist Amanda Clayton has found that this gap widens as countries grow wealthier, not because women become disproportionately more worried, but because men’s concern tends to drop.
Part of the explanation is cultural. In wealthier societies the climate debate is often politicized, and messages that question the need for action can spread through conservative networks. For many men, especially those raised with traditional provider roles or tied to industries like oil and gas, the promise of a transition to renewable energy can feel like a threat to identity or livelihood. That link between climate skepticism and perceived threats to masculinity has been called out in research and public debate: defending fossil fuel culture can become wrapped up in a masculine identity sometimes described as ‘petro-masculinity.’
How do you bridge that divide? Psychologist Vidar Vetterfalk, who works with MÄN, a Swedish group engaging men to rethink stereotypical masculine roles, takes a relational approach. In workshops he invites men to talk about what they value in nature and what worries them about environmental change. Rather than assigning blame, these conversations build connection and create space for men to express concern — often for the first time in a peer setting.
The strategy is simple but powerful: start from shared values and lived experience, not accusation. Participants report that listening and speaking together about the natural world is unfamiliar but meaningful, helping them care without feeling shamed.
Smith has found similar tactics effective in his outreach. His military background gives him a kind of cultural cachet — in his words, ‘nobody gets to take my man card away’ — which lets him engage other men about topics often labeled feminine, like reforestation or sustainability. He frames climate action as practical, mission-oriented work, echoing the purpose that drew him to the Navy: fixing problems, serving a cause, and leaving things better than you found them.
Practical framing helps. Many men respond to messages that link climate-friendly choices to real gains: lower energy bills from rooftop solar, fuel savings with efficient vehicles, or the utility of electric vehicles that can power tools or run as generators in emergencies. Carmakers and advertisers have noticed this, recasting electric power as rugged and useful rather than soft or effete. If shifting the image of electricity helps overcome cultural attachment to gas and oil, researchers like Clayton say that’s a net positive for getting reluctant groups on board.
Another lever is visible role models. When ‘manly’ figures — veterans, tradespeople, sportsmen — adopt green practices and talk about them openly, they help normalize caring about the environment within masculine cultures. Purpose and mission matter too: many people, including men, are motivated by goals that feel bigger than themselves. Positioning conservation and decarbonization as work with clear objectives, teamwork, and measurable outcomes attracts those who thrive on challenge and accomplishment.
None of this erases the political or economic barriers that make transition difficult for some communities. But the evidence suggests that stigma and identity play a significant role in who worries about climate change and who acts on it. Approaches that emphasize connection, practical benefits, respectful conversation, and purposeful action make a difference.
Mike Smith’s path — from fighter cockpits to planting saplings and building climate tools — is an example of how identities can evolve. By reframing care for the planet as consistent with strength, skill, and mission, people can broaden what it means to be a man in a warming world. The key, advocates say, is offering routes into climate action that respect people’s values while showing tangible benefits and a sense of purpose.
This piece was adapted from a public radio episode exploring masculinity and climate engagement.