There was a time I believed numbers spoke for themselves—until I learnt how quickly they fade from our memory. For example, only 0.5% of the world’s water is drinkable. Hard to picture, right? Now imagine all the world’s water as a jug of water with a single ice cube at the top. The only drinkable portion? Just the tiny drops melting off the ice cube’s edges. That image sticks—which is exactly why framing numbers as stories makes all the difference. This technique isn’t just useful for environmental data. Years ago, The New York Times used it to highlight gender inequality in corporate leadership. Rather than simply stating the percentage of Fortune 500 CEOs who are women, they framed it in a way that made the disparity unforgettable: Among Fortune 500 CEOs, there are more men named James than there are women. Now here’s a take on what has dominated our feeds all week. DeepSeek was trained on 15 trillion tokens. That’s an impossible number to grasp and meaningless for many. But here’s context: if every person on Earth wrote a unique 1,500-word essay, that’s how many words went into training this LLM. Isn’t it suddenly tangible? I believe this same principle can revolutionise our everyday business intelligence. Imagine a contextualisation engine—a layer built on top of BI tools that translates metrics into perspectives that are easy to recall. For example, instead of merely listing a 1% churn rate, what if the engine frames it like this?: For every 1,000 customers we gain this quarter, 100 of our existing ones will leave. Imagine a full theatre of paying customers vanishing overnight. What if we could save just 20 of them? That would mean an extra X in revenue. With better translation, fact retention would improve, metrics will easily be recalled by many and inclusivity would grow - Data would no longer be an exclusive language! -------- In writing this I was inspired by the principles and examples outlined in the book, Making Numbers Count by Chip Heath and Karla Starr.
Using stories instead of data in climate communication
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Summary
Using stories instead of just data in climate communication means sharing climate science and information through relatable narratives, examples, and metaphors, making it more memorable and meaningful to everyday people. This approach helps bridge the emotional gap, inspiring understanding and action by connecting facts to real-life experiences.
- Translate concepts visually: Use images, metaphors, or simple sketches to help people grasp complex ideas and remember them easily.
- Mirror lived experiences: Connect climate issues to everyday concerns so your audience sees how climate change relates to their own lives and choices.
- Build emotional connection: Share personal stories or community examples that spark feelings and motivate people to care or get involved.
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I met my inspiration at NY Climate Week and the insights she dropped will shape my work for years. Solitaire Townsend shared something uncomfortable: we've been telling the same "running out of time" story for longer than some activists have been alive. After decades at Futerra studying storytelling, here's the truth → Stories are 22 times more likely to be remembered than facts. Yet we keep managing data instead of managing emotion. Three narrative killers plague climate stories: → Sacrifice – telling people they must give up everything → Agency – making people feel powerless → Fatalism – convincing young people (up to 50%) that we're doomed When she started in the '90s, renewable energy was a joke—"what a few weirdos in California did." Now it's cheaper than fossil fuels. The story changed. The world changed. But we're STILL stuck at the inciting incident without moving forward. That's not how society changes. Society changes through punctuated equilibrium. Everything stays the same, then everything changes at once. We're at that moment. Here's what we miss: people engage with climate differently. After testing across markets from China to the US to Europe, Futerra identified three psychographic groups in your boardrooms and buying committees: GREENS (systems-first) → Push lifecycle TCO, Scope 1-3 cuts, resilience scores. Want credible roadmaps, open data and predictive impact metrics. What stalls them: short-termism and vendor lock-in GOLDS (societal-status focused) → Ask "What are peers doing?" Need recognizable logos, benchmarks, case studies. Move on what will make them look good internally and externally What stalls them: jargon and unclear immediate value. BRICKS (pragmatic operators) → Need <18-month payback, concrete playbooks, role-level wins. Track OPEX cuts and cycle time. What stalls them: Vague benefits and unclear ROI The tragedy is that Greens and Bricks fight each other. Greens push systems thinking; Bricks demand immediate ROI. Both try to convert Golds, who follow momentum. The insight: Stop trying to make every stakeholder Green. Your buying committee has all three. Your roadmap needs to speak to all three. If we change the story, we can change the world. We are homo narrativus : the storytelling ape. It's time we acted like it. -- Looking to tell effective stories for GTM in Climate? Check the pinned comment.
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How do we make climate communication resonate with the very people it affects the most? 💡 🌎 In my latest essay for Question of Cities, I reflect on this pressing question, drawing on my experience in journalism and storytelling, as well as research and fieldwork in the climate space over the last few years. The article outlines how dominant climate narratives often remain inaccessible, overly technical, and disconnected from everyday lived realities. Some key takeaways: 🔁 1. Translation isn’t enough—localisation matters. Efforts like the UNDP Climate Dictionary are welcome, but we need to go further. People don’t say “Jalvayu Parivartan”—they talk about rain delays, changing festivals, and crop failures. Climate terms must emerge from how people experience change, not how we define it. Climate must be framed as an everyday issue. For most people in India, climate change competes with daily concerns like food, housing, and livelihoods. 📚 2. Storytelling enables agency. We need to shift from policy briefs to bottom-up storytelling, where a fisherwoman in the Sundarbans or a tribal woman in Odisha becomes the knowledge holder. 🎭 3. Embrace diverse media and people’s science. From metaphor-rich language to theatre, dance, and music—creative formats hold emotional and cultural power. Even community-defined terms like “wet drought” offer nuance and should shape climate adaptation strategies. 📰4. Mainstream media must build capacity. At a recent workshop in Maharashtra, we saw how rural reporters struggle to differentiate between climate and weather. There’s little support for them—especially women—to cover these stories. Climate needs to be integrated into all beats, not confined to disaster or weather coverage. 🎯 5. Climate communications is not just outreach—it’s strategy. Too often, communication is underfunded and under-prioritised. But to build inclusive, impact-driven programmes, we must invest in grassroots media literacy, storyteller training, and long-term behavioural change campaigns. 🌏 In the coming years, we will witness a growing wave of efforts to communicate climate change in new and compelling ways as climate becomes centre stage in policy and mainstream narratives. But the real test of these approaches won’t lie in international recognition or polished campaigns. It will lie in how meaningfully they resonate on the ground—in how a coal worker in Jharkhand or a landless labourer in Maharashtra understands, imagines, and navigates a world that is 1.5 degrees C warmer. 🔗 Read the piece here: https://lnkd.in/dGG8ZNZn A big thanks to Smruti Koppikar and Shobha Surin for trusting me with this piece. And of course, this would not be possible without Asar and all the fabulous work that I have got to be a part of in the last 3+ years! #ClimateCommunication #ClimateJustice
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Last week, someone who’s been working in climate communications for over a year quietly admitted they still didn’t totally understand what “lowering emissions” meant. Not the general vibe of it, but the actual why and how. I loved their honesty. It reminded me how often specialists in the space continue to throw around terms that even insiders don’t fully grasp. If we want the public, policymakers, and private sector to act, we have to stop communicating like we’re at a scientific conference. Here are 5 tools I use all the time to make complex climate and science ideas land: ✔️ The “Grandma Test” Can you explain the concept to your grandma without losing meaning? This test forces clarity without condescension—and it’s one of the fastest ways to reveal jargon you didn’t even know you were using. ✔️ Metaphor as a Bridge Metaphors are powerful shortcuts for understanding. For example, instead of saying “emissions reductions,” try: “Imagine your home has a slow gas leak. Cutting emissions is like finding and sealing that leak—before it gets worse.” It may take longer to say (a communications faux pas) but we process metaphors faster than data. ✔️ Chunk the Concept Break big ideas into bite-sized parts: What is it? Why does it matter? What can be done? Who’s doing it well? This format creates digestible flow and gives your audience mental “hooks” to follow you. ✔️ Visual Storytelling Not every concept needs a paragraph. Sometimes it just needs a sketch, a diagram, or a comparison chart. ✔️ Mirror the Audience Before I write or say anything, I ask: “What does this audience care about most?” Meeting people in their worldview is half the battle. I’ll be sharing more of the frameworks and strategies I use in future posts—but if your team is trying to translate climate science or sustainability language into something people actually understand and act on, C3 can help. Let’s make it make sense. 👉 Feel free to reach out or follow along for more tools from the Climate Communications Collective playbook.
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I should probably whisper this in a Science conference's hallway… Here are 5 reasons facts alone won’t change the world. 1. Stories move people. Humans evolved to remember narratives, not numbers. If your work lacks story, it often lacks staying power. 2. Facts inform—stories transform. A graph can explain climate change. But a story makes someone care about it. Meaning beats data every time. 3. We act when we feel. Emotion is the bridge between information and action. And story is how we build that bridge. 4. Stories give science a pulse. They carry purpose. They connect past and future. They turn “what happened” into “why it matters.” 5. You don’t need to be a writer to use story. You just need to be a scientist who remembers you’re also human. I used to think I had to convince people with citations. Now I know: Connection starts when someone sees themselves in the story. What’s one moment that changed the way you share your science—or made you realize something was missing? I’d love to hear your experience.