United for global mental health
Fires, Flood, and Fear: The Human Toll of Climate Change in Brazil
From North to South, climate change is impacting mental health in Brazil. This is how.
Brazil at the forefront of climate change
From the droughts and wildfires of the Amazon to the relentless floods of Rio Grande do Sul, communities across Brazil are bearing the brunt of the mental health impacts of climate change. This must be part of the conversation at COP30.
According to data from the WWF: “warming in several regions of Brazil is already higher than the global average: in some parts of the country, average maximum temperatures have increased by up to 3°C over the last 60 years – a warming greater than the global average”.
Climate change affects mental health in multiple, overlapping ways. More frequent and intense extreme weather events - floods, droughts, wildfires - increase the risk of depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. They also destabilise the social determinants of mental health by destroying homes, disrupting livelihoods, and deepening poverty. Communities whose identity and livelihoods are bound to the land - including many Indigenous peoples - face disproportionate harm.
This year, COP30 is being hosted by Brazil in the Amazon, in the city of Belém, from 10-21 November.
Below, we show how climate change is affecting psychological wellbeing across Brazil: from Indigenous communities in the Tapajós who face hotter, drier seasons and wildfires, to the flood-impacted communities of Rio Grande do Sul.
According to data from the WWF: “warming in several regions of Brazil is already higher than the global average: in some parts of the country, average maximum temperatures have increased by up to 3°C over the last 60 years – a warming greater than the global average”.
Climate change affects mental health in multiple, overlapping ways. More frequent and intense extreme weather events - floods, droughts, wildfires - increase the risk of depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. They also destabilise the social determinants of mental health by destroying homes, disrupting livelihoods, and deepening poverty. Communities whose identity and livelihoods are bound to the land - including many Indigenous peoples - face disproportionate harm.
This year, COP30 is being hosted by Brazil in the Amazon, in the city of Belém, from 10-21 November.
Below, we show how climate change is affecting psychological wellbeing across Brazil: from Indigenous communities in the Tapajós who face hotter, drier seasons and wildfires, to the flood-impacted communities of Rio Grande do Sul.
“It’s not just the planet that is sick. It is the bodies, the memories, and the dreams of Indigenous peoples. These stories are a call to action: We cannot adapt to climate change without protecting the mind, the spirit, and the memory of those who live closest to the land. Let this be heard at COP30 and beyond.”
Luana Kumaruara
Anthropologist, Federal University of Western Parà
Stories from the North
The Kumaruara community from the Lower Tapajós
The Lower Tapajós is among the richest regions for socio-biodiversity in the Brazilian Amazon. With El Niño, the area has endured severe droughts - most recently in 2022–2023 and 2024 - and in those years it suffered extensive wildfires.
These events have brought hunger and illness, affecting bem-viver (a holistic concept of wellbeing) and the mental health of Indigenous peoples.
For the Kumaruara - guardians of forest knowledge whose mental health is at the frontline of climate change - climate change is not only rising temperatures or receding waters. It's mothers who can no longer feed children with forest-grown food, and young people forced to leave ancestral homes.
As droughts worsen and wildfire smoke thickens, so does the emotional weight carried by these communities: anxiety, grief, spiritual disorientation and trauma are as real as any physical damage - yet remain largely invisible in climate policy.
These events have brought hunger and illness, affecting bem-viver (a holistic concept of wellbeing) and the mental health of Indigenous peoples.
For the Kumaruara - guardians of forest knowledge whose mental health is at the frontline of climate change - climate change is not only rising temperatures or receding waters. It's mothers who can no longer feed children with forest-grown food, and young people forced to leave ancestral homes.
As droughts worsen and wildfire smoke thickens, so does the emotional weight carried by these communities: anxiety, grief, spiritual disorientation and trauma are as real as any physical damage - yet remain largely invisible in climate policy.
Arlete Kumaruara, 60
Chief of Muruary Village
Chief of Muruary Village
Arlete describes how recurring droughts have damaged the community’s ability to sustain itself, forcing families to migrate because of a lack of water and viable subsistence.
Planting crops such as manioc and cassava, fishing and hunting have become unfeasible in the territory.
(Video credit: Marcinha Kamaruara)
Planting crops such as manioc and cassava, fishing and hunting have become unfeasible in the territory.
(Video credit: Marcinha Kamaruara)
“Like other families, we didn’t have water, and we couldn’t survive here. But it’s more than that - everything affects people’s psychological well-being, especially women, children… and that’s really harmful now, with this climate change, which affects us more and more, it’s damaging.”
Arlete Kumaruara
Chief of Muruary Village
Arlete mourns the loss of abundance and explains how migration to the city disrupts traditions, diet and way of life. She outlines impacts including illness and physical weakness tied to lack of nutritious, traditional food, the loss of sacred places and suffering of “encantados” (spiritual beings), rising stress and conflict, and increasing substance use among youth - problems that were previously uncommon.
(Video credit: Douglas Munduruku, Thaygon Arapiun)
Wamerson Kumaruara
Wamerson, a child from the Muruary village, paints a harrowing picture of the drought.
He recalls the difficulties in moving around, the lack of food, and even witnessing illegal fishermen dumping rotten fish for villagers to eat.
Following wildfires, he noticed the air becoming hotter and polluted from the fires making many, especially children, fall ill with respiratory conditions.
(Video credit: Marcinha Kamaruara)
He recalls the difficulties in moving around, the lack of food, and even witnessing illegal fishermen dumping rotten fish for villagers to eat.
Following wildfires, he noticed the air becoming hotter and polluted from the fires making many, especially children, fall ill with respiratory conditions.
(Video credit: Marcinha Kamaruara)
“The flood season is the good time, and the drought is bad. When drought comes, it’s a horrible period — dead fish, little water for animals to drink… I feel sad seeing dead animals and people having to leave their villages.”
Wamerson Kumaruara
Stories from the South
Photo: A child in Rio Grande do Sul looks over the flood damage.
The floods of Rio Grande do Sul
The floods that struck Rio Grande do Sul over a nine-month period - first in September 2023 and later, with greater intensity in May 2024 - marked the longest sequence of disasters recorded in Brazilian history. Thousands were left homeless, more than 2 million people were affected, and 169 people died.
The stories below - of Elizete, Viviane and Vavà - were recorded in Vila Dique, a neighborhood north of Porto Alegre. The intense rains of May 2024 brought visibility to the area - and revealed chronic vulnerabilities. One resident said: “It wasn't the flood that caused the tragedy. The flood was the last straw in a tragedy we experience daily.”
The floods devastated homes and memories. And afterwards, the community received little consistent support; the only proposed solution has been relocation, a process perceived as disorganised and a risk to community ties.
Most residents in Vila Dique work in recycling. The community has long faced territorial conflict and lived on the fringes of public attention.
Porto Alegre
The stories below - of Elizete, Viviane and Vavà - were recorded in Vila Dique, a neighborhood north of Porto Alegre. The intense rains of May 2024 brought visibility to the area - and revealed chronic vulnerabilities. One resident said: “It wasn't the flood that caused the tragedy. The flood was the last straw in a tragedy we experience daily.”
The floods devastated homes and memories. And afterwards, the community received little consistent support; the only proposed solution has been relocation, a process perceived as disorganised and a risk to community ties.
Most residents in Vila Dique work in recycling. The community has long faced territorial conflict and lived on the fringes of public attention.
Elizete, recyclable material collector, Vila Dique
The floods meant Elizete was forced to relocate to a shelter.
She described fear at leaving her house with children, panic at losing contact with her husband, and a new dread every heavy downpour.
She felt the government blamed the community rather than helping.
(Photo caption: Elizete in her recycling shed. Credit: Greice Tonietto.)
The floods meant Elizete was forced to relocate to a shelter.
She described fear at leaving her house with children, panic at losing contact with her husband, and a new dread every heavy downpour.
She felt the government blamed the community rather than helping.
(Photo caption: Elizete in her recycling shed. Credit: Greice Tonietto.)
Viviane, recyclable material collector, Vila Dique
Viviane received federal disaster relief and rebuilt her house on higher ground with her husband’s income.
Still, she wonders: “How long will we stay here?”
Even with a new home, many live in a “permanent temporary situation,” waiting for resettlement and experiencing ongoing anxiety.
(Photo caption: Viviane and her parrot, Maloqueira, in front of their recycling shed. Credit: Greice Tonietto.)
Viviane received federal disaster relief and rebuilt her house on higher ground with her husband’s income.
Still, she wonders: “How long will we stay here?”
Even with a new home, many live in a “permanent temporary situation,” waiting for resettlement and experiencing ongoing anxiety.
(Photo caption: Viviane and her parrot, Maloqueira, in front of their recycling shed. Credit: Greice Tonietto.)
The Taquari Valley
The stories below of Maninho and Waleska were recorded in locations near Colinas, Roca Sales, Muçum - towns in the Taquari Valley.
In 2025, a year after the floods and as COP approaches, the Taquari Valley still shows utter devastation: wreckage of houses, roads re-shaped by the river and empty foundations. The river created a new path; the force of water swept everything away.
Maninho, fisherman, Colinas, Taquari Valley
Maninho, from a family of fishermen, says even skilled navigators could not predict a river 20 metres above its normal level.
Rescuing people by boat during the floods was deadly: waters were choppy and full of debris. Yet failure to act was not an option.
His intimate relationship with the river and his wisdom as a fisherman were fundamental in rescues and salvage operations, but the satisfaction of being able to help did not prevent the traumatic experience of witnessing many deaths and sadness, forever changing the way he relates to the river, once a companion, but now also a source of danger and anguish.
Photo caption: Maninho on top of the hill in the city of Colinas. The River Taquari can be seen in the background. Credit: Greice Tonietto.
Maninho, from a family of fishermen, says even skilled navigators could not predict a river 20 metres above its normal level.
Rescuing people by boat during the floods was deadly: waters were choppy and full of debris. Yet failure to act was not an option.
His intimate relationship with the river and his wisdom as a fisherman were fundamental in rescues and salvage operations, but the satisfaction of being able to help did not prevent the traumatic experience of witnessing many deaths and sadness, forever changing the way he relates to the river, once a companion, but now also a source of danger and anguish.
Photo caption: Maninho on top of the hill in the city of Colinas. The River Taquari can be seen in the background. Credit: Greice Tonietto.
Waleska, mental health professional, Roca Sales, Taquari Valley
Waleska volunteered during the floods, offering support groups and one-to-one care.
There was emotional solidarity at first, but she felt she could not show weakness:
“One Wednesday, early in the morning, I was already exhausted. Then, as I was driving down the street, I looked around and saw all that there... Then I started crying. My husband, who also works in healthcare, saw me like that and said: 'You can't cry, because if you cry... how will people cope? You have to put up with it'.”
Waleska laments the failure to establish permanent mental-health networks beyond immediate disaster response:
“Little by little, the networks began to unravel.”
Waleska volunteered during the floods, offering support groups and one-to-one care.
There was emotional solidarity at first, but she felt she could not show weakness:
“One Wednesday, early in the morning, I was already exhausted. Then, as I was driving down the street, I looked around and saw all that there... Then I started crying. My husband, who also works in healthcare, saw me like that and said: 'You can't cry, because if you cry... how will people cope? You have to put up with it'.”
Waleska laments the failure to establish permanent mental-health networks beyond immediate disaster response:
“Little by little, the networks began to unravel.”
COP30
An opportunity for mental health
Despite the profound impacts that climate change is having on mental health in Brazil, we are advocating for COP30 to represent a key global opportunity to protect mental health from the impacts of climate change.
You can read more about what we are advocating for at COP30 here.
You can read more about what we are advocating for at COP30 here.
This photoessay was developed by Alessandro Massazza and Dave Gill (United for Global Mental Health), with members of the COP30 Short-Term Action Group hosted by the Global Mental Health Action Network: Juliana Fleury (Vertentes_Mental Health Ecosystem), Tatiana Souza de Camargo (Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul), and Izabela Jatene (Federal University of Pará), and local supporters Luana Kumaruara (Federal University of West of Pará - Campus Santarem), Marilisa Bialvo Hoffmann and Eduardo Trusz de Mattos (Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul), the team from IFMSA Brazil, Tiana Brum de Jesus (social worker, Grupo Hospitalar Conceição), and Juliana Napp (social worker, Casa Violeta Coordinator).
