Do You Know What “Energy Transition” Means in Colombia?

Few expressions are repeated as frequently in today’s energy debate as “energy transition.” However, it is also one of the least defined.

Depending on who is saying it, it can mean anything from abandoning fossil fuels and electrifying the economy to reducing carbon emissions or diversifying the energy matrix. In some cases, it is even used to refer to all these things simultaneously, with varying degrees of urgency.

Do we actually know what we are talking about when we discuss the energy transition in Colombia?

In its simplest form, the energy transition refers to the process by which a country changes how it produces, transports, and consumes energy to reduce its environmental impact. In our case, the transition in Colombia is usually associated primarily with the expansion of renewable energies like solar and wind, the electrification of certain sectors of the economy, and the gradual reduction of dependence on fossil fuels (coal, oil, and gas).

Now, part of the problem with defining this term stems from the fact that the conversation happens in highly specialized circles: engineers, economists, regulators, and experts who frequently debate energy matrices, emissions, or emerging technologies. These terms are rarely translated into language that is clear and practical for the majority of Colombians, turning what should be a technical evolution into a challenge of public communication.

Understanding energy is crucial: when the key concepts of such an ambitious transformation are unclear, public debate becomes muddled. Other actors take advantage of this confusion to promote their own agendas. Consequently, the average citizen either flatly rejects what they don’t understand or simply ignores a topic they don’t perceive as relevant to their own lives.

The energy transition in Colombia implies much more than building new technologies or modifying regulatory frameworks. It also implies building a public conversation capable of explaining what is changing, why, and to what end.

Obviously, this doesn’t mean society needs to become experts in energy engineering. But it does mean that any transformation of this magnitude requires a language that is clearer, more accessible, and more connected to the daily lives of Colombians.

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.

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.