Earth Hour was one of many exciting, nature-based campaigns when I was a child. I remember it being all about turning off the lights and lighting candles instead. For many children, that idea felt curious and entertaining.
Once a year, on the last Saturday of March at 8:30pm, we would switch off our lights for an hour. It was a way to reflect on how much energy we could save, even in that short time. I continued this habit for years - even into university - switching off the lights and thinking about the difference I might be making.
But over time, that habit faded.
Part of that was personal. But part of it was also a growing sense that these campaigns didn’t feel as inclusive or engaging anymore. The marketing no longer felt as exciting or accessible. I still remember seeing the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House go dark on the news, back before social media amplified everything.
It made me start to wonder: how accessible are climate campaign initiatives like Earth Hour?
As the climate crisis intensifies, the intersection of disability rights and environmental justice—often referred to as disability-inclusive climate action—is becoming impossible to ignore. Alongside this, there has been a growing recognition of something called eco-ableism.
Despite good intentions, many mainstream environmental campaigns inadvertently practise eco-ableism. This happens when environmental goals are pursued without considering the life-sustaining needs of people with disability.
For example, turning off lights during Earth Hour is a low-barrier activity for many people. But for those who rely on assistive technology, electric wheelchairs, or refrigerated medication, the reality is very different.
When campaigns focus only on “reducing consumption” without acknowledging medical necessity, they can unintentionally position disabled people as “environmental villains” rather than active contributors to the movement.
To its credit, Earth Hour has started to evolve to address some of these gaps.
By shifting from a single hour of darkness to the broader “Hour for Earth” concept, the campaign now encourages more diverse forms of participation. Their “Challenge 60” initiative uses more inclusive language, inviting people to “walk, roll, hike, or move in your own way,” acknowledging that mobility looks different for everyone.
These changes reflect broader shifts in Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DE&I) thinking that have gained momentum over the past decade. There is a growing awareness that communication, design, and participation need to work for a wider range of people.
Persistent Barriers to Participation
Despite this progress, significant barriers remain across the broader climate movement.
Communication inaccessibility
Campaign materials often lack Easy Read versions for people with cognitive disability, or high-contrast, screen-reader-friendly formats for people who are blind or have low vision.
Physical logistics
Protests and community events are frequently held in locations without accessible transport, ramps, or quiet sensory spaces, effectively excluding many people from participating.
The policy gap
A recent study found that 81% of national climate pledges fail to mention people with disability at all. This means their specific needs, particularly during climate disasters, are often overlooked.
Building a More Inclusive Future
To move beyond symbolism, climate campaigns need to embrace a simple but powerful principle: “nothing about us without us.”
True accessibility means:
Co-design
Working with Disabled People’s Organisations (DPOs) from the very beginning of a campaign.
Universal design
Ensuring that digital tools, communications, and physical events meet accessibility standards from the outset.
A climate justice focus
Recognising that disabled people are two to four times more likely to be injured or die during climate-related disasters. Inclusion here is not just about representation—it is about safety and survival.
Conclusion
Climate campaigns like Earth Hour have the power to inspire collective action. But inspiration alone is not enough if it leaves people behind.
As this article shows, well-intentioned environmental initiatives can unintentionally reinforce eco-ableism when they fail to recognise the everyday realities and needs of people with disability.
While Earth Hour’s shift towards more inclusive messaging and flexible participation is an important step forward, accessibility needs to move beyond symbolic gestures and become a core part of climate action.
When disabled people are recognised not as exceptions, but as essential contributors, environmental movements become stronger, fairer, and more effective.
If climate action is truly about protecting lives and futures, then inclusion is not optional—it is fundamental.
