Tag: cambio climatico

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El Niño to Strike Midst Colombia’s Energy Storm

Colombia is bracing for El Niño as if it were merely a weather pattern. It isn’t—at least not entirely. It is, above all, an energy and economic crisis arriving at the worst possible moment.

The National Government has warned of a 90% probability that El Niño will hit the country by September 2026. This news has been framed as exactly what it appears to be: a climate alert. Acting Minister Irene Vélez spoke of droughts, rising temperatures, forest fires, and water stress. While all of that is true, it is an incomplete picture.

In a country like Colombia, where roughly 70% of electricity depends on water, El Niño is not just an environmental event. It is primarily an energy signal—and even more so, an economic one.

Every El Niño cycle depletes reservoir levels, limits hydroelectric capacity, and forces the system to rely on thermal power plants, which are significantly more expensive. This silent shift—from water to fossil fuels—doesn’t just change how energy is produced; it changes how much it costs. Inevitably, that cost is passed on to households, businesses, and the State itself.

Furthermore, there is an aggravating factor: the country does not have the same energy safety net it had a decade ago. The decline in local production has forced a reliance on Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) at volatile international prices.

The disparity is staggering. According to figures from the Mercantile Exchange of Colombia, gas prices jumped from an average of US$4.6 per million BTU in 2022 to nearly US$10 in 2024. Meanwhile, imported gas has fluctuated between US$14.6 and US$18.3 per million BTU. Essentially, at the exact moment the system requires thermal backup, that backup is not only more expensive but also more dependent on external markets.

To make matters worse, the country is witnessing a significant downturn in its mining sector. Coal production—one of Colombia’s primary exports—has dropped substantially amid dwindling investment, higher tax burdens, and regulatory uncertainty. In 2025, the sector recorded its worst performance in two decades, seeing a sharp decline in both investment and exports.

This is not an isolated statistic. It is part of a larger equation: Colombia is losing its capacity to generate income from energy resources just as its energy system becomes more costly to maintain.

Yet, the full story isn’t being told. El Niño is communicated as a climate event. Imported gas is debated as a technicality. The decline of mining is treated as niche industry news. We need to connect the dots, because when risks are communicated in fragments, the country is only half-prepared.

The real danger isn’t just that El Niño is coming. The danger is that it arrives in a country that hasn’t fully grasped or explained the sheer magnitude of the energy crisis it faces.

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Energy Transition vs. Energy Aggregation: The Problem Isn’t Technical, It’s Narrative

I recently came across a social media campaign proposing something interesting: that we stop talking about “energy transition” in Colombia and start talking about “energy aggregation.”

The idea, as I understand it, is that Colombia cannot “transition” because doing so would jeopardize our energy security; “transition” sounds like replacing some sources with others, or depending on a single matrix. Therefore, the “correct” term should be “aggregation”—that is, adding, complementing, and diversifying.

Beyond whether this is technically accurate, what interests me is something else: what happens when we try to change a term that is already fully established globally?

The energy transition is not a local invention or a Colombian ideological slogan. It is the framework under which economies like Germany, China, and the United States are operating. It is the language used by markets, multilaterals, and investors. It is the term that organizes the global conversation.

Attempting to replace it here isn’t just a simple semantic adjustment. It is trying to play on a different semantic field when the game is already being played elsewhere. And we are losing.

From a communication standpoint, this move has a problem: it doesn’t change the mental framework of those who think differently. It doesn’t persuade critics. It doesn’t reconfigure the international conversation. What it does, in practice, is reinforce the idea among those already convinced—the followers. And that, frankly, is both unnecessary and inefficient.

Energy transition in Colombia does not mean shutting down mining tomorrow. It doesn’t mean closing the industry. It doesn’t mean ignoring that we currently depend on certain sources. It means looking toward the horizon and setting goals. It means planning.

I understand that for some trade associations, the term “energy transition” has become ideologically charged. It’s true: some sectors in Colombia have used it as a political banner. But just because a term becomes politicized in public debate doesn’t mean its conceptual architecture is captured by that ideology.

Colombia may not be the world’s largest producer of $CO_2$, but it does suffer the consequences of climate change. We see it in the floods in the department of Córdoba; in rural populations in Magdalena; in communities that do not participate in semantic debates but do feel the impact every rainy season.

Companies must protect their interests and communicate based on their productive reality. Colombian energy security is a serious matter. But perhaps the challenge isn’t replacing global language, but learning how to inhabit it intelligently.

The energy transition is not, by definition, an attack on mining. It is a horizon of transformation. The productive sectors that understand how to position themselves within that horizon—without denying or diluting it—will be the ones that achieve the greatest legitimacy in the long run.

Perhaps it’s not about changing the word, but about changing how we tell the story. And that is where, more than new terms, what we need is a better strategy.

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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.