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This Is Where CEOs Fail Most When Communicating Sustainability

Many CEOs believe the problem is that people don’t understand sustainability. However, that is rarely the case; the issue is how they communicate it.

I have seen impeccable presentations—sustainability reports full of data, elegant graphs, and targets for 2030, 2040, and 2050. And yet, the message fails to connect. Why? Because they are making three very common mistakes:

1. Confusing Data with Credibility

“We reduced X tons of CO₂.” “We invested X millions.” “We are leaders in the energy transition.”

It all sounds impressive, but trust isn’t born from a figure. It’s born from consistency. If the message feels like a checklist of achievements, the audience perceives it as self-promotion. And when something sounds like self-promotion, skepticism kicks in. More numbers do not always equate to more trust.

2. Talking About the Company, Not the Impact

Most messages are written from the “we” perspective. For example: “We did,” “we implemented,” or “we led.”

But almost no one answers the key question: How does this change things for everyone else? Sustainability should not be communicated as a corporate trophy.

3. Believing All Audiences Want to Hear the Same Thing

  • The investor wants risk management.
  • The community wants quality of life.
  • The worker and their family want stability.
  • The government wants job creation.

And yet, many CEOs use the same speech for everyone. Stating that X tons of CO₂ were reduced might work in an annual report, but for a community, the tonnage isn’t what matters. What matters is: Will there be less pollution? Less risk? More stability?

Segmenting the message isn’t manipulation. It’s understanding that every audience listens through the lens of their own concerns.

It’s not that companies aren’t doing the work; it’s that they don’t know how to communicate it.

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The Energy Transition Fails Not for Lack of Technology, but for Lack of Narrative

Whenever we talk about climate change or the energy transition, we assume the problem is purely technical: we need more renewable energy, more investment, more regulation, and more innovation. And yes, that is true. But there is something rarely discussed with the same level of seriousness: the way we talk about these processes can either accelerate or stall their progress.

The energy transition does not occur in a vacuum. It happens in public opinion, on Facebook, in family conversations, in political debates, in news headlines, and in private sector sustainability reports. In that arena, words matter.

It is not the same to speak of a “climate crisis” as it is to speak of “climate variability.” I recently read a CEO in Colombia suggesting we replace “energy transition” with “energy aggregation.” That choice of words is not minor. Just as it is not the same to refer to fossil fuels as “dirty energy” as it is to call them “traditional energy in transformation.” Each adjective activates different mental frameworks. Each metaphor constructs a different reality.

When we describe the energy transition as a “war on oil,” we are inviting confrontation. When we present it as an “evolution of the energy system,” we open space for adaptation. Metaphors are not literary ornaments: they are cognitive shortcuts that shape how we understand the world.

In Latin America, where a large portion of economies depend on the energy sector, language is not a trivial detail. If the transition is communicated as a punishment, it generates resistance. If it is communicated as a gradual and strategic process, it invites negotiation. If it is communicated as a threat to employment, it awakens fear. If it is communicated as a productive reconversion, it opens up possibilities.

Public policies can be designed with impeccable technical precision. But if the accompanying narrative generates distrust, the political cost multiplies. Social legitimacy is not built with figures alone; it is built with meaning.

That is why the way we communicate climate change matters—a lot. Not because it replaces action, but because it defines the ground upon which those actions will be accepted, debated, or blocked.

The energy transition is not solely a technological challenge. It is, above all, a narrative challenge.

And as long as we fail to understand that, we will continue to wonder why, despite having the technical solutions, change moves slower than expected.