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.