Slogans that stick share a particular grammar: verbs not nouns, pictures not concepts, Anglo-Saxon not Latin, gain not loss, rhythm and a clear instruction.

Populist communicators understand this, scientists and climate campaigners don’t always. That doesn’t mean we need more slogans, but we do need to unite behind the one or two that might just stick.

I’ve always felt that we need a ‘5 a day’ or ‘stop the boats’ for climate action. A few have come very close but there’s so much noise out there that they don’t get the traction they deserve.

Last week I wrote about Net Zero as a floating signifier — a phrase so drained of meaning that everyone can pour their own fears or hopes into it. Whilst drafting that piece, this post fell out of the notes.

In the hands of scientists and policymakers, climate action has struggled. Meanwhile, ‘the right’ keeps winning the slogan war, not because their politics are more popular (polling on climate concern says otherwise1), it’s because they write in verbs.

Disclaimer: I’m no marketeer nor linguist and welcome comments from such experts

As an untrained enthusiast, let’s look at some successful past messaging and see what we can learn from it.

Winning political slogans

Look at the slogans that actually moved votes, or changed behaviour at scale:

They’re almost entirely verb-led. Compare that to the kind of language George Orwell warned about in Politics and the English Language2: abstract nouns built from buried verbs, distancing the reader from action and experience. None of the slogans above make that mistake.

None of them answer an abstract question either. They answer a concrete one: what do you want me to do?

Rule 1: Use verbs, not nouns

People experience actions. Institutions describe states.

Rule 2: Paint pictures

The brain stores images, not definitions3. Which is easier to picture?

Stop the Boats or Border Security Enhancement.

Five a Day or Recommended Daily Nutrient Intake.

Take Back Control or Sovereignty Reform.

People remember scenes, not policy. This is classic cognitive linguistics3.

Rule 3: Anglo-Saxon beats Latin

English is weird — we inherited two vocabularies, one from the Anglo-Saxons and one from the Normans. The Anglo-Saxon words are short, old, emotional, physical. In academia these are viewed as colloquial. As an undergraduate I was told my writing was ‘too journalistic’ so I shifted my vocabulary accordingly.

The Norman/Latin words are abstract, bureaucratic, technical - stick them in a bag, shake them up and out spills your next corporate report or funding bid.

Rule 4: Say what people gain

Political slogans are surprisingly optimistic, even the negative-sounding ones.

• Take Back Control: gain

• Make America Great Again: gain

• Build Back Better: gain

Even Stop the Boats implies the promise of safety and calm.

Rule 5: Make it chantable

Read these aloud.

• Stop the Boats — three beats.

• Take Back Control — four beats.

• Five a Day — three beats.

• Stop. Look. Listen. — three commands.

Rhythm matters and it’s no accident that most of these fit a chant or a placard.

Rule 6: Tell me what to do

The best public campaigns are behavioural: Stop. Look. Listen; Clunk click every trip; Don’t drink and drive.

An instruction is psychologically far stronger than an appeal to awareness.

Rule 7: Talk like humans, not institutions

Nobody says “I’m pursuing operational resilience.” They say “I’m trying to keep the roof from leaking.” Nobody says “I’m enhancing household energy efficiency.” They say “I’d like lower energy bills.”

The language people naturally use over the kitchen table is almost always the language that persuades.

Now put climate through the same test

Seven rules, all built without a single climate example. So how does actual climate messaging hold up?

“Tax the Rich” a wealth tax ring-fenced for public services and climate action is exactly the kind of demand to be chanted for at protests and scores exactly like “Take Back Control.” Verb, concrete noun, short words, chantable and a very clear idea of who gains.

“Just Stop Oil” is a verb-first instruction with a picture behind it, even if its “gain” is really a loss-avoidance (no more oil, rather than more of something), which is probably why it polarises as hard as it persuades.

“Reduce Reuse Recycle” has endured since the 1970s for a reason.

Now look at the bottom of the table: The language of my profession for the past two decades: Net Zero, Decarbonisation, Energy Transition - these were never slogans. They’re accounting and engineering terms, promoted to public-facing language by committee, without anyone checking whether they could survive being said out loud on a placard.

This is exactly what I described last week using Lakoff’s idea of framing4, a phrase with no picture attached leaves a vacuum and someone else fills it.

Less is more

As we have seen, the climate movement doesn’t need more slogans. There are already competing and confusing ones. Slogans coined by people trying to move a crowd right now, tend to follow this grammar instinctively. Those born in committees tend not to.

Whilst looking for slogans to rate, I found over 400, including a working list compiled by Wayne Branden of Artists for Nature Conservation, Australia5. So the fix probably isn’t a better-crafted new phrase, it’s discipline. Getting behind the two or three that already work - keep saying it, in the same words, in the same rooms, until it sticks.

The climate movement doesn’t have a language problem, it has a coordination problem.

If you had to pick one existing climate slogan for everyone to unite behind, which one would survive contact with the pub, the school gate and the doorstep?

Comments/slogans

It didn’t surprise me. From a communications perspective, it’s been brewing for a while.

Climate campaigns are no longer primarily trying to convince people that climate change isn’t real. Increasingly, opposition focuses on the policies, technologies and language associated with climate action - a shift from denying the science to delaying or obstructing the response1. We can see that in UK media, this shift is now firmly embedded in political discourse2.

Why Net Zero?

Most people don’t wake up worrying about Net Zero. Between the school run, rising bills, job insecurity, food inflation and the general background hum of existential dread, we’ve all got plenty on our minds already.

‘Net Zero’ isn’t one of them.

Even if your organisation has committed to reaching it, chances are it’s still fairly low down the agenda. It’s a policy label, it’s abstract and it doesn’t tell you anything about the life it’s trying to create. That’s exactly what makes it such an attractive political target.

You can’t easily campaign against warm homes. Calling lower energy bills ‘woke’ is a harder sell. Cleaner air has stubbornly refused to become a culture war. ‘Net Zero’, on the other hand? That sounds like fair game.

Lost in translation

Net Zero is an accountant’s term. It describes a balance sheet, not an outcome that anybody actually experiences. I’ve spent countless hours explaining, drawing, editing videos and otherwise trying to explain it.

Nobody can picture ‘Net Zero’ in quite the same way they can picture a warm home, money left at the end of the month, a child walking to school breathing cleaner air or not relying on volatile gas prices.

We don’t rally around phrases like:

• Fiscal neutrality

• Operational resilience

• Demand-side management

• Resource optimisation

They might sound great in your next quarterly review but they make terrible slogans.

‘Net Zero’ belongs in carbon accounting, strategy documents and engineering reports. It’s a useful metric for measuring emissions entering and leaving the atmosphere. Somewhere along the way, though, we started treating it as though it was something the public should aspire to.

People don’t aspire to accounting terms, they aspire to better lives.

This is what the linguist George Lakoff calls ‘framing’. His favourite example is ‘tax relief’: repeating that phrase, even to argue against it, embeds the idea that tax is an affliction before anyone debates a single policy.

‘Net Zero’ illustrates the same principle. The phrase describes an accounting outcome rather than an everyday experience, leaving a vacuum that others are free to fill with their own meanings. Nobody built a relatable picture to go with it (my team used a complicated bathtub analogy), which is exactly why simply defending the phrase won’t work. As Lakoff put it, negating a frame only reinforces it3.

Meaning well

Net Zero has become a symbolic term onto which people project wider hopes, frustrations and political identities.

Like Brexit, woke or political correctness before it, Net Zero has evolved beyond its technical definition. It has become a symbolic term onto which people project wider hopes, frustrations and political identities.

In one room people hear innovation, job opportunities and energy independence. Whilst in another people hear higher taxes, government overreach and being told what car to drive. The phrase has become increasingly detached from its technical definition and increasingly attached to whatever people already believe.

That’s a communications problem as much as it is a political one.

From science to symbols

This has been happening for several years. Rather than disputing climate science itself, opponents increasingly focus on specific policies such as heat pumps, low traffic neighbourhoods, electric vehicles and Net Zero, portraying them as expensive, elitist or disconnected from everyday life4.

This fits with a much broader body of research showing that people rarely reject scientific evidence because they lack information. Instead, attitudes are shaped by identity, values, trust and political worldviews5. I’ll delve into this further in a future article but, for now, this isn’t primarily a battle over facts. It’s a battle over meaning.

I wrote an article last year asking:

I think we have our answer now.

Not because the goal itself is flawed, but because we’ve allowed the conversation to become anchored to a phrase that was never designed to carry so much political and emotional baggage.

Net gains

So what should our slogan be?

Beat the bills?

Behavioural science and climate communication research consistently show that messages are more persuasive when they connect with people’s existing values and lived experience rather than abstract policy goals6.

Freeze bills, not pensioners?

Equally, repeated crisis messaging can increase disengagement, while simply providing more facts rarely changes deeply held views when those facts conflict with identity or worldview7.

Keep Britain cosy?

We don’t need to abandon Net Zero as a policy goal, but somewhere along the way we forgot to tell people what Net Zero was actually for. We talked about carbon budgets instead of comfortable homes. Emissions trajectories instead of secure jobs. Targets instead of tangible improvements to people’s lives.

Keep our kettles on? / Keep Britain brewing?

Climate action has never been about achieving Net Zero. Net Zero is simply the accounting method we use to know whether we’re making progress.

Take back power?

The destination has always been a healthier, fairer, more resilient society.

Own our power?

Perhaps it’s time we started talking about that again.

Power without Putin?

Stop communicating climate policy. Start communicating the future people actually want.

Suggest a slogan

If you found this interesting, allow me to direct your scroll to another piece I found before I hit ‘publish’ in a similar vein.

LinguisticallyYours' Substack

How Climate Language Makes Inaction Sound Responsible

The phrase that does all the work…

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2 months ago · 23 likes · 4 comments · Linguistically Yours!

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“𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘮𝘦”

• Too direct

• Too intense

• Too tangential

• Too much

But then, in other contexts, I’ve had almost the opposite experience. Same brain, same personality but this time the feedback was:

• “This is brilliant”

• “That’s exactly what we needed”

• I’d never have thought of that

• “Can you look at this?”

What changed? Not me - the environment.

I’m drawn to the ‘different operating systems’ analogy for neurodiversity (ADHD combined type in my case). It’s simple and easy to communicate but I think it’s incomplete so I pushed it in this visual (𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 - welcome to my busy brain!).

Brains that process inputs differently leads to different outputs. What gets flagged as an ‘error’ depends on the barriers in between — physical, social, attitudinal, communicative. When we treat those outputs as defects in the individual, that’s the medical model at work.

The social model shifts the focus to removing the barriers.

Having people that run a different operating system (multiple in some cases) isn’t the problem, it’s designing a world for just one. People with less compatible systems will get error messages, have to work twice as hard and then probably crash.

Being different isn’t an error, sometimes it’s just a compatibility issue - and compatibility is a design choice.

Within the workplace, this post looks at what happens when those different operating systems aren’t treated as faults to fix, but as variations that teams and organisations can actually benefit from:

• How do we prepare students for a future that feels increasingly uncertain?

• How do we engage young people distracted by AI and technology?

• How do we help them care about the natural world?

We often encourage young people deciding on a career path to find something that gives them satisfaction and purpose but that’s a tough thing to figure out when you haven’t landed on who you are yet.

We don’t just choose jobs, we choose identities

This was familiar ground for me. My PhD focussed on identity but in a behavioural context, rather than professional, ‘future of the workforce’ sense. Decades of research in Identity Theory show that behaviour isn’t driven by information alone. It’s shaped by identity—our sense of who we are, what we value and where we belong1.

So when deciding on a career path, we don’t just ask:

What job do I want?

We ask:

What kind of person am I?

and once that identity forms, it becomes surprisingly hard to shift.

Which helps explain a pattern many of us in sustainability recognise:

• Mechanics who see themselves as “petrolheads” disengage from electric vehicles

• Designers treat sustainability as an optional add-on rather than core practice

• Too few students pursue ecology, because insects and rain aren’t comfortable.

Whilst we focus on closing the knowledge gap, perhaps we are missing the identity gap?

We often talk about ‘green jobs’ as if they’re something new but most are just old jobs adapted for a modern world:

• Chefs are navigating volatile supply chains and changing customer preferences and shifting towards plant-based, lower-impact menus

• Engineers are being asked to design for durability, repair and adaptation — not just performance

• Architects are designing for flood, heat and resilience as standard

• Economists are being pushed to look beyond growth and towards wellbeing

  Is economic growth failing us?

Same job titles, different expectations

We’re asking people to make sense of that shift while telling two completely different stories about the future.

We tell young people, ‘The future will be different. You need to adapt’ and at the same time, Unions and politicians tell current workers, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll protect what you have.’ Those two messages can’t both be true.

Why resistance isn’t irrational

For those already in the workforce, this isn’t just about skills or retraining, it’s about identity.

Research on professional identity formation3 shows that our sense of self is shaped over time by social norms, training and workplace culture. It becomes embedded - reinforced by colleagues, status and lived experience.

So when change is framed as:

• “your job is disappearing”

• “your industry is the problem”

we are telling people ‘who you are no longer has value.’

Of course they resist! Not because they don’t understand the problem, but because the proposed solution feels like a personal loss (this is also why I try to be kind when the fossil fuel bods come for me — they’re trying to stay employed and I get that).

Meanwhile, young people are trying to make sense of the future.

How should today’s young people decide what to be when they grow up?

(*NB. aging is inevitable, growing up is entirely optional).

Do you prepare for transformation?
Or assume things will largely stay the same?

Are we too fragmented?

This is where it goes beyond careers. Food systems, biodiversity loss, mental health, land use - these aren’t separate issues but we often present them that way for the sake of simplification.

If everything is bundled into one big system mess, it feels overwhelming. If it’s all split out, nothing connects. Either way, it becomes hard to see where you fit.

The real gap: identity

Put simply, we have an identity lag:

• professional identities shaped by the past

• signals about the future that don’t align

• and no clear story about what these roles mean now

So it’s no surprise people feel stuck - whether they’re starting out or already in the job.

What can educators do differently?

So what does this mean for educators?

1. Make the evolution of roles explicit

Don’t just teach engineering, design or economics, show how those roles are changing now, not in some distant future. Make visible:

• what counts as good practice now

• how expectations are shifting

• what “success” looks like in a changing world

86% of current students surveyed agreed that sustainability skills will be important to future employers whilst only half felt their education has prepared them for the changing world so there’s work to do to close this gap4.

2. Teach identities, not just pathways

Throwing more job titles at students isn’t really the answer. They need to be able to see themselves in the roles that already exist.

I find it refreshing that 71% of respondents to the above survey reported that they would choose a position with a starting salary of £1000 lower than average in a company with a strong environmental and social record. However, whilst 46% of respondents reported they would choose a position with a starting salary of £3000 lower than average, 54% would instead choose a position with a salary of £3000 higher in a role that does not contribute to positive environmental and social change ⁴.

This reflects the current contradiction. Young people need to be able to imagine:

• who they might become

• what they might stand for

• how their work connects to wider systems

That means exposing them to practitioners already doing this work and using examples that reflect current realities, not outdated norms.

3. Connect the dots

If everything is taught in silos, everything looks unrelated so we need to be unafraid to make the links explicit:

• food ↔ biodiversity ↔ health

• infrastructure ↔ climate ↔ inequality

Not as an add-on—but as the core of how the world works.

4. Acknowledge the transition honestly

Avoid the temptation to simplify the message. Students can handle complexity as long as it’s not framed as ‘the end of the world is nigh’. We need to be clear that:

• some roles will change significantly

• some industries will decline

• new opportunities will emerge—but not always neatly

Young people want honesty and action. We know that the majority (84%) globally are concerned about climate change5 with eco-anxiety being a growing issue for mental health6 so bringing that further into the curriculum and careers advice can really help give them agency and help them build a positive professional identity.

Conclusion

At ESD-Ex I saw a shift from the old ‘How do we prepare students for the future?’ to a more useful:

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The upsides of this particular neurotype are often listed as creativity, empathy, hyperfocus etc. and they can be true but I want to focus more on what a different way of processing the world can bring to an organisation, a team, a problem.

This isn’t about “superpowers”

I’m generalising here – all brains work differently and I’m not replaying the old superpower tropes. I’m summarising my lived experience backed up by academic research, with the intention of widening the conversation about the benefits of a decent Equality, Diversity and Inclusion recruitment policy genuinely considering neurodiversity too.

The long and short is that cognitive traits are not strengths or weaknesses in isolation — they are context dependent.

What teams actually benefit from

1. Pattern recognition and reframing

I have a wonderful friend, Emma, who’s brain works much like mine and we have the most inspiring, energetic conversations. I suggested we do a podcast and Emma (more intuitive and self-aware than me) laughed, “No we shouldn’t! We go off on so many tangents, interrupt each other and sometimes never finish stories, or come back to them 30 minutes later. How would anyone follow it?!”

She’s right – to a neurotypical observer, our conversations would seem impossible. Many people with ADHD process information in a highly associative way, rather than following a linear path, ideas are connected across domains.

This can look like distraction (“ooh look a butterfly”), but in complex or shifting systems it often looks like insight. ADHD has been linked with divergent thinking1 and idea generation2 so, in a workplace, this may not be helpful for chairing meetings to a tight agenda but workshopping ideas or developing processes are our forte.

In my workplace I am known as a connector – of people, projects and ideas as I often make connections quickly across projects and people — sometimes messily, but often in ways that accelerate collaboration; and yes, I may interrupt when I find one because if I don’t my brain will have moved on and it will be lost (I’m getting better at just making a note – the chat and mute functions are my saviours!).

2. Tolerance for complexity and ambiguity

Living with ADHD means constantly navigating environments not designed for you. I tried to imagine a true ADHD-friendly workplace and struggled (perhaps a future post that definitely needs brainstorming with likeminded types).

While structure is essential for many of us, the ‘unconventional mind’ types are often comfortable iterating in messy, evolving problem spaces once engaged so when projects are ambiguous, fast-moving or poorly structured, that adaptability is an advantage3.

3. Social attunement and moral radar

ADHD is frequently associated with emotional intensity and sensitivity4. While that can be exhausting in unsupportive environments, it can also translate into acute awareness of group dynamics and fairness.

In meetings, this may show up as someone noticing who is not being heard, or when a message lands badly. Emotional intensity can heighten sensitivity to interpersonal dynamics — which, in communication or brand work, can surface blind spots early.

4. Energy under pressure

I know I’m not alone in needing a tight deadline to pull out my best work. I am not physically capable of starting something that’s not due for weeks so I often have to set false deadlines and accountability with colleagues (I also consider ‘future me’ a colleague that I sometimes need to be kind to and not dump a load of stuff on).

Whilst some colleagues can be frustrated by a perceived lack of progress, who do they come to when tomorrow’s speaker cancels at 4pm and they need someone to develop and deliver at 9am (true story – they bought me lunch at least).

This isn’t sustainable as a default mode, but in acute moments, it can be an asset.

How can workplaces adapt for different neurotypes?

When organisations design roles around one narrow definition of productivity and communication, they misclassify difference as deficit. When they design for variation, they unlock capacity.

This could be a whole piece but for now I’ll give a few examples that work for me. The main thing is to let people play to their strengths and make adjustments for their challenges.

• Maybe they think better whilst moving – so let them have walk/think breaks and space;

• Many of us focus better whilst fidgeting or doodling – so let them have the fidget toys and don’t roll your eyes at the masterpiece on the notepad;

• Agree deadlines, prioritisation and accountability early on – structure is important;

• Keep communications clear, concise with an obvious call to action (doesn’t everyone want that?);

• If you’re waiting for a response, feel free to politely chase – they may well have forgotten, thought they replied, accidentally deleted it and couldn’t remember who sent it…

Practical implications for leaders

I hope I’ve inspired you to consider the benefits of a diverse workforce (there are many more) so my final, more general advice, would be to:

• Value outputs, not process conformity

If presenteeism and conformity are rewarded over contribution, expect innovation to stall.

• Make space for divergent thinking before convergence

If ‘because we’ve always done it this way’ is your stock answer, you’ll probably be left behind.

• Invite perspective shifts explicitly

Be open to solutions coming from directions, even planes you weren’t aware of.

• Notice who reframes problems

Just because you didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. They’re not being negative, they’re horizon scanning and saving you wasted resources.

Conclusion

Current data suggest just under 7% of the population have ADHD as it is currently recognised5. However, with the growing realisation that it doesn’t just affect young, white boys, diagnoses are increasing as an overdue adjustment takes place.

That means the chances of you having an ADHD colleague is slightly lower than having a left-handed one (possibly the same person as there is a connection6) (10%) but far greater than a having a vegan colleague (4.5% UK population7) or one with red hair (1-2% global population but over 10% in Scotland & Ireland8).

So the question is not whether you have ADHD colleagues, the question is whether your systems allow their contributions to make your workplace and outputs awesome.

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I’m writing about climate communication here but the learning stacks up for any topic.

To understand why, let’s dig deeper into echo chambers, filter bubbles and identity boundaries and figure out how to burst, join or penetrate them.

Echo chambers and filter bubbles

An echo chamber is social. It’s who you follow, trust and talk to. People like you, with values and identities that feel familiar.

“An environment in which a person encounters only beliefs or opinions that coincide with their own, so that their existing views are reinforced and alternative ideas are not considered.” Oxford Languages

A filter bubble is structural. It’s what platforms decide to show you based on engagement signals, not truth or representativeness. Even when you don’t choose it, the system quietly curates more of the same to keep you online.

“A situation in which an internet user encounters only information and opinions that conform to and reinforce their own beliefs, caused by algorithms that personalize an individual’s online experience.” Oxford Languages.

Recent research on the changing information ecosystem shows that algorithmic amplification and social echo chambers reinforce each other, creating a distorted sense of what is common, normal or widely believed — particularly on polarised issues such as climate change1.

This is not primarily a failure of individual reasoning, it is an environment that rewards repetition, conflict and identity signalling over nuance.

How traditional climate communication made the bubble thicker

Kris de Meyer’s excellent Ted Talk summed this up beautifully as he playfully described ‘Climate Bingo’. I recommend you take a listen but I had a go at summarising it visually here:

For decades, climate communication has been built on a reasonable but flawed assumption: if people understand the facts, they will act.

This led to strategies focused on:

• raising awareness

  • now more about storytelling to build empathy and relatability

• sharing lots of compelling facts

  • translating science into simpler messages

• building fear

• building hope

• balancing hope and fear

I have definitely indulged in most of the above (not fear – I read Futerra’s ‘sell the sizzle’ in 2012 and never looked back. Yes their approach has progressed since then because… research and evolved thinking…).

As De Meyer points out, facts rarely travel neutrally. Research on identity and climate change demonstrates that when information is perceived as threatening to social identity or group belonging, it is more likely to be resisted or reinterpreted defensively, regardless of its accuracy2. In these contexts, disagreement is less about evidence and more about protecting a sense of “who we are”.

Over time, climate communication unintentionally did three things:

• It signalled group membership (“people who care about climate think like this”)

• It created an out-group (“scientists”, “activists”, “experts”)

• It moralised behaviour, making disagreement feel like a character flaw

Rather than bursting bubbles, this often thickened the boundary between “us” and “them”. The result was not mass persuasion, but stronger identity sorting.

Why arguments bounce off but action sometimes gets through

Whilst filter bubbles may be resistant to arguments, they may be more permeable to behaviour. Observed action functions differently from opinion:

• it does not demand agreement

• it does not require trust in a distant authority

• it is processed as a social signal, not a political claim

Research on social norms shows that misperceptions about what others think and do often act as a barrier to climate action, while making behaviour visible can shift perceptions of what is normal and acceptable without requiring belief change3. This helps explain a pattern many practitioners recognise intuitively: stories about people doing things travel further than stories about what people think. Not because they persuade better — but because they trigger less defence.

Permeating the bubble without bursting it

If we accept that:

• we cannot reliably burst filter bubbles

• we cannot argue our way past identity threat

• we cannot fix platform incentives from the outside

then the task shifts from conversion to coordination.

Bubbles don’t need to pop, social boundaries don’t need to disappear and long-standing beliefs don’t need to align, they just need to become slightly more permeable.

That permeability is created when actions are visible, ordinary and framed around shared concerns rather than climate identity

I fought hard against the ‘every little helps’ narrative for years and still hate it, (“if everyone does a little, we’ll achieve only a little”, David MacKay, 20084). I used to fight against action-first approaches, like those argued for by Kris De Meyer, believing a compelling argument would work. I now realise that in a polarised age of filter bubbles, misinformation and politicisation of key issues, they are a pragmatic response to structural constraints.

What this looks like in practice

Continuing the storytelling approach that is increasingly popular, bubble penetration requires a subtle shift in the narratives:

1. Focus on the outcomes, not the agenda

e.g. increasing energy reliability rather than taking down fossil fuel corporations or denying people their comforts

2. Identity-aligned messengers

Stories told by tradespeople, small business owners, local leaders, parents will be more relatable. Not “experts” but peers doing cool stuff and achieving outcomes for their communities, businesses etc.

3. Visible, boring competence

Projects that show something worked, someone tried and it wasn’t heroic (well, it was, but more normality than cape-wearing virtue).

You are not persuading across bubbles, you are reshaping what feels possible and normal within them.

Summary

I haven’t found an evidence-based communication strategy that reliably defeats algorithms or dissolves polarisation (and I don’t have the energy to spend hours on TikTok proving it) but there is evidence that arguments harden boundaries whilst everyday action by relatable people softens them.

If climate communication has a future, it may lie less in telling better stories and more in making action quietly visible and ‘normal’, until it no longer looks like “their thing”.

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The season of self-correction: Veganuary, decluttering and gym memberships that expire faster than a kale smoothie.

It is also the season of “less”: eat less, scroll less, emit less - less visible even (as a middle-aged woman, I’ve got physical and online invisibility nailed – even the algorithm supports this).

The ‘new year, new you’ trope mirrors the old sustainability narrative perfectly: you are the problem - minimise accordingly.

Note: if you already move through the world assuming your voice belongs in every room, you are welcome here, but you may not be the target audience.

This piece is for everyone else, the ones who were raised on a cultural diet of ‘be less’, ‘speak softer’, ‘don’t be difficult’ and ‘be grateful to have a seat at the table’.

I’d like to offer a different start to 2026

Instead of trying to be less — less indulgent, less flawed, less carbon — what if the real work is to be more?

More influential, more aligned with your strengths and more capable of shaping the systems you already touch.

Not New Year, New You

New Year, MORE You

We all have a handprint – what if we lean harder into it?

1. Taking the gloves off

If your carbon footprint is about what you consume, your handprint is about what you cause. From the decisions you shape, the people you support, the procurement you shift, the norms you change, the conversations you reframe, the policies you unblock and the little sparks of influence that ripple outward.

People are far more likely to act when the action feels like an extension of who they already are and they believe their influence matters1. Not a diet, not a punishment, not a ritual of self-denial – i.e. not when asked to make personal sacrifices with little connection to systems or influence2.

2. This January, map your strengths — not your deficiencies

Climate action is so much more than simply what we buy or consume, it extends across the many roles and contexts we all occupy, as members of communities, participants in organisations and as citizens who can influence policies3.

So map your influence:

The Influence Map

Where do you have the strongest potential handprint?

• What skills do I naturally use to help others or solve problems?

• Where do people listen to me?

• Which teams, communities, systems or decisions do I touch?

• Where did I unintentionally influence something last year?

• Where is there room to step in a little more boldly?

I made you a worksheet

3. Use your influence

Meaningful actions create agency spirals — one action fuels the next, so choose one area where you already have influence and go deeper.

• If colleagues trust your judgement, nudge procurement in a better direction.

• If you handle budgets, treat whole-life costs as standard practice.

• If you teach, embed future-thinking into your curriculum.

• If you’re a manager, normalise sustainable defaults.

Outside of work too – can you implement a plastic-tat free policy in your kids’ school pta? Introduce a second-hand kit rail at the local sports clubs (I’m still working on this – competition leotards should be banned), or bike racks at the football club (seriously, don’t get me started on this rant).

Small expansions in an existing locus of influence produce disproportionately large ripple effects as individuals embedded in organisational networks have far greater leverage than they realise. As we sprint towards climate tipping points, remember that they can be positive too so be part of the good ones4.

4. Be more you in 2026

People act more on climate when they experience self-expansion, not self-erasure. The shift isn’t “be better”, it’s be impactful.

Does 2026 need a thinner, cleaner, tidier version of you? Or does it needs more you? A you who takes your own influence seriously, a you who recognises that climate action is not a personal purity ritual but a relational, political and cultural one and can help promote agency and belief in others5.

If you’re going to be less anything this year, let it be these:

• Be less conflicted – pick your passion and dig in

• Be less quiet – amplify the science, the wrongs and the solutions, that said:

• Be less argumentative – stay out of science denial debates and join with the problem solvers instead. Your mental health will thank you!

After years of working with businesses, councils and tired humans, I hear myself repeating the same phrases over and over – my colleagues must be sick of them but they survive repeated contact with reality. They cut through noise, reduce overwhelm and, most importantly, help people act with clarity rather than guilt or performance.

1. The answer to all sustainability questions is… it depends

My number one phrase – I must say this weekly at least! Followed up closely by “if there was one thing you could definitely do, we may have mentioned it by now!”

Sustainability is a complex area – that’s why we have so much trouble communicating it effectively. This phrase creates space for inquiry rather than tribalism. It shifts the conversation from “what’s the right answer?” to “what matters in this specific situation?”. It also makes space for empathy – that the audience are unlikely to be sustainability experts and it’s okay if they are confused.

Research in identity and values123 shows that people decide based on alignment, not facts in isolation. “It depends” is the doorway into alignment.

2. Start with one action that actually matters — then grow it

This one is from Kris De Meyer (and I highly recommend his Ted talks – sustainability bingo is genius!).

Cognitive and climate psychology research4 shows that agency increases when people begin with actions that feel meaningful and consequential, rather than diffuse or tokenistic5.

The key part of this is the quantifiable – we’re asking people to look at their life, business etc. and understand where they can make a meaningful difference and start there. They will need data to do that, not guesswork or the latest blog post.

3. What’s your carbon handprint?

When we teach Carbon Literacy, we start with footprints (of course) but we move on to their less popular sibling, the handprint - your handprint evaluates your actions that help reduce climate change beyond your own value chain.

Presenting people with a long list of stuff they need to stop doing (or feel bad about) is not the best way to make friends and influence others. Positive framing increases follow-through, reduces eco-anxiety and helps people shift from defensive reasoning to constructive problem-solving and consideration of their potential sphere of influence

Studies on climate emotions6 and narratives7 show that positive, outward-facing frames (handprints, influence, contribution) improve follow-through and wellbeing by activating constructive rather than defensive responses.

4. If it isn’t financially sustainable, you’re doing it wrong (or your timescales are out)

I’ve seen a disappointing number of business cases fail because ‘we can’t afford to invest in energy saving now’, only for there to be even less money in future when bills skyrocket; or sustainability features ‘value-engineered’ out of a project, only to be put back in at quadruple the expense down the road due to legislation or other pressures.

Short term thinking is the nemesis of financial and environmental sustainability. The trick is recognising timescale bias—people judge costs immediately and benefits later. This phrase pushes leaders to evaluate whole-life costs, resilience, avoided risks and value creation, not just short-term expenditure.

Evidence from UKERC8 9 and the Carbon Trust10 consistently shows that most high-impact climate actions become financially advantageous when evaluated across whole-life costs rather than quarterly budgets.

Some actions are morally required even if not immediately cost-positive. True. Yet the majority of high-impact climate actions are financially rational if assessed over the correct period. This phrase stops organisations from justifying inaction through short-termism.

5. Business as usual must always be challengeable

This one is heavily borrowed from my favourite co-conspirator, Dr Emma Fieldhouse. It’s the reason I’ve been kicked off a few committees and why she was such a brilliant interim Sustainability Director for several organisations. Most unsustainable decisions aren’t malicious, they’re inherited. Business as usual is a sediment of assumptions, habits and outdated constraints that no one remembers choosing – challenging it from within the organisation is traitorous but consultants are welcome to do it!

No system improves until its underlying assumptions are visible and challengeable11. BAU is often just the residue of yesterday’s problems.

Try this (if you dare!):
• “We’ve always done it this way” becomes “does this still serve us?”
• “This is the process” becomes “is this process fit for purpose in 2025?”
• “We can’t change that” becomes “what would we need to change for this to work?”

Conclusion

These have become my tropes because they treat people as adults with agency, competing priorities and imperfect conditions. They avoid guilt and absolutism. They invite inquiry, values, timescales and systems thinking.

As a sustainability professional, it’s my job to make you understand your impacts (negative and positive), your sphere of influence and the complexity of it all and to challenge you to think creatively for all sorts of worldly, personal and business advantages. If you’ve worked with me, you’ve likely heard one of these!

I welcome suggestions to add to my list…

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References

Most people do care. They’ve just stopped saying it out loud and the algorithm reinforces that. Your job isn’t to convince the sceptics — it’s to make the caring majority visible again.

Remember when most UK Councils were declaring climate emergencies and committing to building green housing and mitigating flood and heat risk? That wasn’t ancient history, it was 20211.

So how, in 2025, has the tone has flipped so dramatically? Suddenly net zero is woke, Councils are cutting funding for energy (and cost) saving initiatives and climate deniers are crawling out from under all sorts of rocks.

My LinkedIn feed is full of weary practitioners who’ve spent a career building momentum and now feel like the world’s turned hostile. It hasn’t. What’s shifted is the social norm signal — the subtle cues that tell us what’s normal, expected and approved.

Social norms

I first studied social norms during my PhD when I was trying to understand human behaviour. Social norms are the shared, often unspoken rules that guide what behaviours are acceptable in a given context.

They typically fall into two categories:
 • Descriptive norms = what people do (or what we perceive they do).
 • Injunctive norms = what people approve of / expect (what’s socially acceptable).

Online platforms inflate the first and can fictionalise second.

Norms are powerful, as social creatures, we look to others to guide our action. However, the bias arises when we misperceive norms (especially descriptive ones) — thinking something is common when it isn’t — which can lead to bad group behaviour (e.g. littering because we think “everybody does it”). Of course social norms vary across cultures and contexts: what’s normal in one setting may be taboo in another.

Media, particularly online, presents each of us a different version of reality. This algorithmic curation exaggerates extreme expressions, shifting the perceived midpoint of acceptable opinion. Over time, moderation looks timid, consensus looks dull and outrage looks authentic. This effect is described as an “external-visibility bias” — the more engagement a post earns, the more “real” it feels, regardless of how representative it actually is2 3.

Algorithmic curation exaggerates extreme expressions, shifting the perceived midpoint of acceptable opinion. Over time, moderation looks timid, consensus looks dull, and outrage looks authentic. For climate, this feels fatal. The more visible something is, the more legitimate it feels and when the apparent norm turns cynical, genuine majorities self-silence — the classic spiral of silence.

Climate action rides on identities and norms. Emotions like hope and pride sustain effort and small, repeated norm cues can move behaviour at scale. In recent eventful years, the science holds but the signal is drowned out by feeds that over-amplify conflict and under-represent consensus. The majority didn’t vanish, its visibility did.

What the algorithm doesn’t show (& policymakers are apparently unaware of)

Myth 1: People stopped caring about climate

No they didn’t but it is being overshadowed.

77–80% of the British public remain concerned about climate change45 and support stronger government action6. However, only 53% now rank it among the most important issues facing the country, a drop from 69% in 2023.

Interestingly, women, younger adults, older adults, and degree-holders report higher concern levels. People living in less deprived regions are more engaged, reinforcing concerns that climate action remains stratified along socio-economic lines7.

Myth 2: immigration and “wokeness” are what everyone’s talking about

They’re what the media is talking about and that sets the agenda8. As of June 2025 the most common issues reported as concerns (in the UK) were

• Immigration at 51 %

• Economy at 48 %

• Health/NHS at ~32 %

• Housing ~18 %

• Environment ~18 %9

It’s a media salience trick: whatever dominates the front pages feels like the nation’s obsession. But environment is still in the top 5, despite being minimised by mainstream media.

Myth 3: anti-climate voices are the new mainstream

That’s what the (fossil-fuel funded) platforms want you to think.

Social algorithms rank content that sparks engagement — anger, fear, disgust — far above calm agreement. A range of studies show that outrage-fuelled posts spread significantly faster and farther than neutral or consensus-based content1011.

The result? A distorted mirror. Each of us sees more of what we react to, until our feed becomes an echo chamber of our worst suspicions. We assume everyone else sees the same thing, so the angry few look like the majority. This is pluralistic ignorance12 — when we believe that our private views are different from those of the majority so we stay quiet and adjust our behaviors to conform to what we perceive as the societal norm.

Where this leaves us

Perceived norms drive policy. When politicians or business leaders think public support for climate action has collapsed, they hesitate. The truth: the majority haven’t changed their minds — they’ve lost confidence that others share them. The loud minority simply hogged the spotlight.

Making climate action mainstream again

1. Lead with the real majority
   Every time you talk about climate, remind people most folk support action. Facts don’t shift values, but they do correct misperceptions of norms.

Support the work of the the89percent project to turn press coverage around.

2. Click wisely
   Algorithms learn from you so don’t reward outrage with your attention. Share content that reflects the world you want to normalise — community projects, businesses doing good, billionnaires paying their taxes (!).

3. Show the normal, not the novel
   Outrage gets airtime so normality needs visibility. Highlight everyday climate work such as retrofits, river clean-ups, bus-lane wins. Make caring visible.

4. Name the distortion
   Tell audiences their feed is biased toward conflict as awareness breaks the spell. Once people know they’re seeing a false reality, they stop mistaking it for the world.

5. Keep showing up
   The spiral of silence only breaks when people who care speak — calmly, consistently and publicly. That’s how new norms form.

How to make caring visible again

1. Show the real majority.
   Keep saying what’s normal, not what’s noisy. “Most people want clean energy” is still true, as is ‘most people are concerned about the climate crisis’.

2. Keep it visible.
   Share progress regularly — a photo, a story, a headline — so action feels like the default, not the exception and boost others’ content so you' don’t look like a lone wolf.

3. Use human voices.
   People believe people, not posters. Let peers, neighbours or colleagues tell the story.

4. Feed the algorithm something better.
   Don’t click on outrage, share constructive posts instead. The internet shows more of what we feed it (this will also help your mental health!).

5. End on pride, not guilt.
   “Look what we fixed together” rather than “look what’s broken.”

We all need less negativity on our feeds right?

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However, sometimes you can’t help yourself, sometimes you have to, so this guide is for you. If you want to find common ground between a political, ideological or knowledge chasm (with someone who doesn’t) – read on.

We’re going to use this approach:

1. Listen and acknowledge

When teaching behaviour change, I tell my students the path to winning an argument is to start by agreeing with their opponent. Going straight on the offensive shuts them down; you may as well shout into the wind.

In order to be heard, you need to open ears. So, regardless of how offensive they are, find something to agree with.

Empathy can be challenging, especially when opinions feel ill-informed or provocative, so I find it helpful to remember that most people see themselves as the hero of their own story, not the sidekick, not the villain. Narrative identity research shows that we construct our lives as stories where we are usually the protagonist, acting in line with our values1 2. Even when their views clash with ours, people generally mean well. Our challenge is to find the thread that has resonated with them strongly enough to shape their opinion and start the conversation there.

If you like a framework, I recommend Aristotle’s insight that persuasion depends not just on logos (reason) but also ethos (credibility, character) and pathos (emotions). Climate communicators often skip straight to logos3. Your uncle will listen better if you first acknowledge his ethos (“you’re a fair, sensible person”) and his pathos (the worries he feels).

1a. Know your audience (or ask)

People rarely change their mind because of a clever fact; they shift when something speaks to what they value4. Research shows that across cultures most of us draw on the same basic values — things like security, fairness and benevolence — but we prioritise them differently. Conservatives, for example, often place more weight on loyalty, respect for authority, liberty and a sense of order5. Studies of climate beliefs find that when people feel their identity and values are affirmed, they are far more likely to engage with solutions6.

And yes, you aren’t imagining it - climate denial is on the rise, particularly amongst conservative white men7 and despite over 99% of scientists agreeing on human-caused contemporary climate change8.

So if your uncle prizes stability, you can frame insulation as a way to make homes more secure. If he values liberty, show how home-grown energy means independence from volatile foreign gas. Values are the doorway9; facts can follow once you’re inside.

Example:

Uncle says: “Net Zero is too expensive – it needs abandoning.”

You (acknowledge): “You’re right to worry about costs – no one wants policies that waste money.”

1b. What (mis)information are they basing their opinion on?

This may help your empathy: For decades, fossil fuel companies have deliberately sown doubt and distraction (even Petroganda), just like the tobacco industry once did, and their marketing has been slick and simple, whilst climate comms have been confusing, fragmented and often guilt-based. See note & cartoon.

Meanwhile:

Example (continued):

You (using Pathos): “I get it – the messaging’s been a mess and it’s easy to see why ‘keep calm and carry on’ sounds simpler.”

2. Explain (practical benefits)

Now bring in logos. DO NOT DEBATE! Move the conversation away from “climate”, “Net Zero” or whatever set them off; instead, reframe climate action as local, tangible improvements, not abstract ideology10, e.g.

• Insulating homes → warmer, cheaper to run, less strain on NHS

• Renewable energy → British-made (or natural wind and sun), stable prices, less reliance on imports

• Better transport → reliable, affordable ways to get around

Example (continued):

You (using Logos): “But the numbers don’t add up. The point of energy saving measures is to cut bills long term. The average household saves £300–400, and the NHS saves too because fewer people get sick in cold homes. If they’d invested years ago, we’d all be much better off now. The longer they leave it, the more expensive it gets.”

Need receipts? Pick one of these:

• The IMF11 and IEA12 say repeatedly, every £1 spent on clean energy now avoids up to £4 in future damages.

• In 2023, extreme weather alone is estimated to have added about £192 to the average UK household’s food bill. When combined with energy costs, those two factors raised food bills by an average of £605 per household compared to 2021 - and it’s getting worse.

Here are some more ideas:

3. Reassure (optional redirection)

Reassure them that your point(s) play to their values. Bring it back to universal concerns, for example:

Bring it back to the things everyone cares about:

• Cost: It’s about keeping bills down. Last year, extreme weather added about £200 to the average family’s food shop — on top of high energy bills. Fixing draughty homes and using clean energy is the cheaper path.

• Reliability: It’s about making sure services don’t break when trouble hits. Floods, failed crops and energy price spikes can all happen at once. If we invest in insulation, renewables and strong farming, the NHS won’t get swamped, food will stay on shelves, and families can plan ahead.

• Fairness: It’s about making sure ordinary families don’t pay the biggest price while fossil fuel companies make record profits. If you’re going to be cross, be cross about that — not about your neighbour’s recycling bin.

Example (continued):
“So Net Zero isn’t about politics — it’s about being fair and reliable. Why should British families keep paying extra for imported gas, when we could have steady, home-grown energy instead?”

Redirect?

Behavioural science research shows that frustration needs a target — if people aren’t given a clear and justified one, it often gets redirected onto scapegoats13. If they’re angry at “climate action”, they won’t hear the benefits — but if you show who is really driving costs, the anger can be re-anchored (ethos and pathos).

It can help to validate their anger — but point it in the right direction. Anger at immigration or recycling rules is misplaced. Anger at billion-pound fossil fuel subsidies, or corporations lobbying to keep prices high? That’s justified. And channelled right, it aligns with fairness, reliability and protecting ordinary households.

Framing-wise, you’re not just saying “don’t be cross”. You’re saying:

“You’re right to be cross. But the problem isn’t ordinary people or immigrants — it’s that fossil fuel subsidies and corporate lobbying keep us hooked on an expensive system.”

Example (continued):

“If you’re going to be cross, be cross about this:

The politicians are all banging on about immigration, which increases GDP by over 1% (that’s hundreds of pounds each) and keeps the NHS going – all the time trying to distract us from the billions of pounds they’re giving their fossil fuel mates that costs us all thousands.”

Conclusion

So next time your uncle (co-worker or online opponent) sighs about “net zero nonsense”, try starting with what they care about — cost, reliability, fairness and relate that to practical actions that have shorter term, relatable benefits. You might not win the argument, but you’ll keep the door open for conversation, maybe even open their mind a chink.

You won’t change minds over Christmas dinner, but you might keep the peace — and your sanity.

If you’d like more ‘receipts’ to back you up in conversation, here are two explainers I’ve written that dig into the detail…

• How will climate change affect me?

• Does Net Zero increase taxes or energy security?

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Content note: This post includes a cartoon that uses a deliberately provocative analogy (mention of sexual violence) to highlight media bias and the false balance given to climate denial. Please read with care.

In 2009, the United States came close to passing landmark legislation to limit emissions. The Waxman–Markey cap-and-trade bill had support. It was viable. But fossil fuel firms, afraid of profit losses, poured millions into lobbying and hired economic consultants to produce reports showing massive costs (and conveniently ignoring any benefits).

These reports weren’t just circulated in policy circles. They made their way into media headlines, political speeches and even school debates.
The bill failed. It is estimated that this delay alone imposed $60 billion in social costs from emissions, health impacts, and economic instability that could have been avoided1.

For years, politicians, particularly those across the pond have been proclaiming:

• "It's a hoax."

• "It’s just a money-making industry."

• "They’re getting rich by telling you carbon is the enemy."

Trump regarding climate change, at a rally in Hilton Head, S.C. on December 30, 20152.

The sentiment is still being parroted today globally so my question is why?

This newsletter is as close to a conspiracy theory as I will get but I want to explore two things:

1. The actual benefits of climate action to our daily lives that are well researched but severely under-reported

2. Why the media and policymakers continue to ignore the costs to human health, the economy and nature

3. I guess there’s a third thing – what we can do about it.

What if it's a big hoax and we create a better world for nothing?

Ask a random member of the public what they associate with “climate action”, and you’re likely to hear: expense, sacrifice, compromise. That’s because the benefits (though widely documented in peer-reviewed literature) remain under-reported and under-communicated.

Joel Pett’s incredible and widely used cartoon3 (which I’ve just found out you can get on a t shirt!) asked (in 2009) ‘What if it's a big hoax and we create a better world for nothing?’. 16 years later and it’s still as relevant as ever.

So let’s look at the better world we could create if the tangerine toddler and lobbying leeches don’t get their way:

Globally, studies have shown that decarbonisation policies can lead to:
• Dramatic reductions in premature deaths from air pollution4
• Improved diets and reduced rates of heart disease and diabetes5 6
• Reduced hospitalisations and vulnerability during extreme heat or drought7 8
• Urban improvements like safer streets, lower noise and more active transport9

Wait - if climate policies are so positive, why don’t these make headlines? Why is policy debate dominated by cost estimates and scare stories?

There are two main reasons for this:

Bad news bias and the media's commercial model

Media outlets don’t need oil money to skew the narrative—our brains do it for them10. Negativity sells, fear lingers,1112 and good news about better diets and cleaner air rarely gets clicks. So we get scare stories about heat pumps, not the real costs of dirty air13. That’s why newsrooms, chasing attention in a saturated digital market, lean heavily on headlines that evoke fear, outrage or conflict.

Why focus on the negative side of climate action?

We hear all about the supposed costs of green policies: how heat pumps are expensive, how low-emission zones might fine drivers, how Net Zero will “kill the economy”; yet we hear far less about the very real costs of inaction: rising deaths from air pollution, hospitalisation spikes during heatwaves, energy bill shocks linked to fossil fuel dependency.

Who pays for the bad news?

That selective storytelling isn’t an accident. It’s a product of strategic fossil fuel lobbying, economic framing and media dependence on corporate advertisers.

Since at least the 1990s, fossil fuel companies have poured money into PR firms and economic consultancies to produce models inflating the costs of climate policy—and suppressing co-benefits like cleaner air, energy security, or health improvements14.

These findings were then funnelled to journalists, policymakers and pundits, shaping the entire public debate. Reports from fossil-funded think tanks like the Heritage Foundation or American Enterprise Institute were covered far more widely than peer-reviewed papers from scientists and economists.

Meanwhile, fossil companies paid for native advertising in top outlets (as op-eds and sponsored content)15 and social media ads that look like search results16 that kept their framing front and centre.

Media organisations, dependent on ad revenue and political access, rarely interrogated these claims. Instead, they leaned into “fairness” narratives that gave fossil-funded opinions equal footing to scientific consensus.

This is what you’re doing when you platform climate deniers, fossil lobbyists and alt-right-types in climate discussions:

Even algorithmic ‘neutrality’ tilts toward controversy — boosting clickbait and burying consensus. This creates a distorted public sphere where the costs of action are exaggerated and the costs of inaction are hidden (see this post for more on that).

The result? A media and policy environment that acts as if the only real cost is doing something — not doing nothing.

We panic about small boats, but barely blink at flooded cities. The media lens zooms in on immigration “costs” while quietly cropping out the economic and human toll of climate breakdown. It’s not just a distortion—it’s distraction by design.

So let’s correct the focus.

Globally, fossil fuel companies received $7 trillion in subsidies last year. That’s not a typo. For every £1 we invest in clean energy, we shovel nearly four into prolonging the problem...

The ROI (return on inaction)

In the UK alone, fossil fuel subsidies and tax reliefs remain substantial. According to the International Institute for Sustainable Development, the UK government provided around £17.3 billion in support to fossil fuel producers and consumers in 2021–22—despite net zero commitments. Globally, subsidies to fossil fuels reach as high as $7 trillion annually when accounting for health and environmental costs (IMF, 2023).

Compare that to what fossil fuel companies spend to protect these subsidies: in the US, industry groups spent roughly $354 million on lobbying and campaign finance in 2015–16 and received $29.4 billion in return. That’s a return on investment of over 8,000%.

This isn’t just money down the drain, it’s thousands of avoidable hospital visits and funerals. Air pollution—largely caused by fossil combustion — accounts for nearly 1 in 5 deaths worldwide and costs the UK economy an estimated £20 billion annually in health-related impacts.

Objects in headlines may appear larger than they are

Public discourse often pulsates with alarm over the costs of immigration, yet the actual fiscal impact is modest. According to the Migration Observatory at Oxford (2024), immigration costs represent less than 1  % of UK GDP, with recent migrants typically contributing more than they consume. Even the increasing costs of running the asylum system (£5.4 billion in 2023/24) remain a small drop compared to the economic and health fallout from climate inaction.

Climate change is projected to cost the UK up to 3.3 % of GDP by 2050 (that’s £74.9 billion for 2024) and as much as 7.4 % by 2100 without mitigation efforts17. Excess deaths from UK heatwaves alone reached nearly 3,000 in the summer of 202218.

Put bluntly:

Why are we still investing in harm?

This isn’t about austerity or sacrifice. It’s about shifting our resources towards things that actually serve us. Cleaner air. Lower bills. Healthier food. Stronger communities. The research is clear. The benefits are measurable.

Next time someone tells you we “can’t afford” climate action, or stokes fear about heat pumps or low-traffic neighbourhoods — ask instead: why are we spending public money to make things worse?

Ask your councillor, your MP, your party leader — what are you doing to invest in what makes life better, not just more profitable for a few?

And if you're tired of hearing scare stories about the ‘costs of immigration’ while we ignore multibillion-pound handouts to polluters? You're not alone.

It’s time to get our perspective back.

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Whilst researching my latest ‘Has Net Zero had it’s day?’ Substack newsletter, this cartoon was inspired by the growing realisation that if UK climate policy were a carnival game, it’d be whack-a-mole.
Every time a new plan pops up — bam! — someone’s there with a mallet.

This visual explainer tracks some of the UK’s recent U-turns and the headaches they will cause — not just to the environment, but to investment, energy security and public trust.

1. Petrol and diesel phase-out delayed

Mole: Ban on sales of new petrol and diesel cars from 2030

Whacked: Delayed to 2035, aligning with EU (announced Sept 2023)

Headache caused:

Signals uncertainty to investors and delays job creation in the UK auto sector.

Drivers face mixed messages on EV infrastructure and resale values. Meanwhile, overseas competitors are surging ahead on EV production, leaving the UK at risk of losing both economic ground and export markets.

2. Ban on new gas boilers scrapped

Mole: Ban on new gas boilers in homes by 2035

Whacked: Plan quietly dropped in early 2025

Headache caused:

Keeps households reliant on unstable global gas supplies. As conflicts and geopolitical tensions drive up energy prices, this decision leaves families exposed to repeated bill shocks and undermines long-term energy security.

3. Green investment budget cuts

Mole: £28bn annual green investment pledge from Labour

Whacked: Scaled back to a lower, unspecified figure citing fiscal responsibility (2024)

Headache caused:

Undermines economic transformation plans and limits local job creation. The UK risks falling behind in the global race for clean energy investment, supply chain growth and infrastructure modernisation.

4. 100% clean power by 2030 softened

Mole: Labour pledge for 100% clean electricity by 2030

Whacked: Watered down to "at least 95%" with a backup gas reserve

Headache caused:

Reduces the ambition of UK energy planning at a time of rising demand. The more we rely on gas, the more exposed we are to global market shocks—just as AI, EVs and electrification increase electricity needs.

5. Green taxonomy scrapped

Mole: A government classification system to identify environmentally sustainable investments

Whacked: Quietly abandoned in summer 2025

Headache caused:

Invites greenwashing and investor confusion. Without a clear taxonomy, both businesses and financial institutions lose the guardrails they need to scale credible green finance.

6. Post-Brexit environmental protections weakened

Mole: EU-level protections for clean air, water, habitats, and chemicals

Whacked: Diluted in post-Brexit deregulation; UK now lags behind EU

Headache caused:

Weakens public health safeguards and undermines the UK’s ability to trade with green markets. Businesses exporting to the EU may now face additional checks, whilst UK residents face reduced protections.

The moles are fighting back!

Courts are now holding governments and fossil fuel players to account.

As of 2024–2025, floodgates of climate litigation have opened: global cases against polluters surged, fossil fuel subsidies were flagged in legal briefs and the UN’s top court just ruled countries must limit fossil fuel production or risk reparations.

Net Zero is trending again — but not in a good way.

We know only 12% of the UK population report being ‘strongly opposed’ to the government’s Net Zero targets1, yet this vocal minority dominates online discussion.

To be fair, how many of us can actually define it? Not even the Government if their own strategy is anything to go by.

My current work with local authorities — many of whom led the charge on climate emergency declarations and decarbonisation strategies pre-pandemic — now reflects a shifting reality. Following recent elections, Net Zero has become a political liability in some councils, no longer a strategic imperative and, in some cases, not even to be mentioned for fear of programmes being cut.

It’s distressing to see the discomfort, even fear, in their faces. To hear their stories - one colleague was facilitating the excellent ‘How Bad are Bananas?’ game at an event when a Council member approached them in disgust and warned loudly that they needed to start looking for a new job.

Suddenly, what was difficult has become almost impossible. How did we get here?

Media vs Net Zero: like a sitcom, if you squint

Let’s set the scene: the media is reporting Net Zero like ChatGPT trying to explain a policy U-turn — vaguely convincing, occasionally brilliant and often completely made up.

1. Headline whiplash

When Rishi Sunak quietly watered down the UK’s Net Zero targets in 2023, the media ricocheted between outrage, spin, and shrugging indifference. One day Net Zero was a legal duty, the next, it was framed as a lifestyle choice2.

2. Populist plot twists

Enter “anti-Net Zero populism” — where heat pumps are class war and ULEZ is tyranny. Green pledges stall. Oil licences slip through. Net Zero (‘woke’ now apparently) becomes the punchline for anything unpopular3 4.

3. Editorial echo chambers

In 2023, Carbon Brief found that right-leaning outlets quadrupled their anti-climate content 5. Meanwhile left-leaning press called for faster action. Two separate narratives - both shouting, neither listening.

4. Ed vs the world

Somehow, Ed Miliband (the guy that went viral eating a bacon sandwich) got blamed for the collapse of British steel — because apparently Net Zero did that6.
In truth, clean energy infrastructure could actually revive manufacturing, but who reads past the headline?

5. Government in disarray

The real kicker? Ministers champion Net Zero one day, then approve oil and gas licences the next. It’s not public opinion they’re responding to — it’s influence. And influence rarely comes cheap.

What does this tell us?

Net Zero hasn’t failed as a goal — but it has been hijacked as a narrative and it’s impacting the trust people have in the whole climate action narrative7

Let’s rewrite the story — one grounded in reality, values and everyday choices.
No villains. No drama. Just the future we actually want to live in.

Wait - my content isn’t doom and gloom!

What if this isn’t a dead end? What if it’s a chance to reroute the conversation?

We know that the majority of the UK public remains concerned about climate change — including more than half of Reform UK voters8; they’re just not shouting about it online.

This isn’t apathy - it’s a sign that we need to change how we talk.

The backlash against Net Zero doesn’t mean climate action is doomed. It means the message isn’t landing, and that gives us a rare opportunity to do something smarter.

Don’t mention net zero!

“I might have mentioned it once but I think I got away with it”

Post-meeting debriefs are now reminiscent of Basil Fawlty failing to keep order while the kitchen's on fire and the guests are revolting.

What people want to know isn’t how we’re going to reduce emissions by 78% by 2035 and whether that includes scopes 1, 2 and 3 - they want to know:

• Why are my energy bills still so high?

• Is solar actually cheaper?

• Can I afford to heat my home this winter?

The really switched on (pun intended) may also ask:

• Do we have to keep relying on Russian gas pipelines?

• Will there be enough electricity for EVs, data centres and heat pumps?

• Is the grid ready for what’s coming?

In short, the public isn’t asking about Net Zero. They’re asking how to keep the lights — and the WiFi — on.

So why the negative net zero noise?

The GreenerFuture Leicestershire project I’m currently working on, included a 2025 report by Energy Systems Catapult, who carried out a social listening study of the platform X (formerly Twitter, now mostly just a bin fire with branding) to track public engagement with energy-related topics. Since X skews right and loud, it offers insight into who’s shouting — not what most people think.

That said, the patterns are revealing:

• Mentions of “Net Zero” rose by 273% in 2024

• Posts opposing climate action generated far more engagement than those in support

• Most users didn’t engage at all — not because they disagreed, but because the framing didn’t speak to them.

What does all this online noise miss?

The fact that most people aren’t arguing about emissions targets; they’re asking if they can afford to put the heating on.

And beneath all that? A bigger shift most of us haven’t clocked yet.

Our demand for electricity is about to explode — not because of woke ideology or net zero conspiracies, but because our lives are changing.

We’re swapping gas boilers for heat pumps, petrol cars for EVs, filing cabinets for servers and administrators for ai chatbots. Your fridge might not care, but the grid does.

The electricity demand story

Away from politics and polar bears, the piece that we can all relate to is that the UK’s electricity demand is projected to double by 20509.

That’s not because of climate policy. It’s because:

• Homes are switching to electric heating

• Cars are switching to EVs

• AI, data centres and digital infrastructure are hungry for power

• Industry wants out of volatile fossil markets

This shift is coming whether we reach Net Zero or not. The real question is: how do we power it?

Even Reform voters want action — just don’t call it Net Zero

Here’s the twist: even the loudest critics of Net Zero don’t want to be left without flood defences, drinkable water or functioning supply chains. In fact, polling 10 shows a surprising level of support for climate adaptation — even among voters who reject “climate change” as a priority issue.

So maybe that’s our “Don’t mention Net Zero” moment again.

If adaptation is the shared ground, let’s start there:

• Not with carbon budgets, but with blocked drains and broken supply chains.

• Not with global models, but with the soggy school run and the empty salad aisle.

Even if we disagree on why the climate is changing, we can still agree on not drowning in it.

How to use this in storytelling and values-led campaigns

As discussed in Issue 1, facts don’t move people — stories do. The stories that resonate are the ones that connect with what people value. Values-based communication is critical if we want to cut through noise and polarisation.

Map climate to core values

Depending on your audience, reframe climate action as:

Core Values

• Security - “Reliable energy that protects you from price shocks”

• Fairness - “No one should freeze while big suppliers post record profits”

• Stewardship - “Leaving a better system behind, not just cleaner air”

• Ingenuity - “Upgrading to smarter tech, cleaner power, local jobs”

• Independence - “Homegrown energy, not foreign gas”

If your goal is behaviour change or public support, don’t just ask people to care about emissions. Give them a reason that matches their values.

What works

Start with shared needs, not climate jargon

“Everyone wants to stay warm, keep the lights on and cut waste.”

• Frame change as control, not sacrifice

“Switching to clean energy means more control over your bills, not less comfort in your home.”

• Use emotionally grounded, everyday examples

“Meet Sarah from Norwich. Her solar panels and insulation cut her bills by 25% last winter.”

• Speak to identity and aspiration

“This isn’t about being green. It’s about being smart, prepared and future-fit.”

• Anchor abstract goals in local realities

“Doubling electricity demand isn’t theoretical. It’s happening on your street, in your workplace and at the plug in your hallway.”

Here’s a quick reference for communicators and campaigners to maximise your reach:

Final take: Has Net Zero had its day?

Net Zero as a target still matters, but as a message, it’s lost its charge.
Let’s stop trying to win the culture war and start powering the future — affordably, reliably and cleanly.
That’s the message that keeps the WiFi on.

Between my son’s audition, the work deadlines, the exploding laundry basket (and litter tray), being Mum’s taxi and the existential dread in my inbox — climate action can feel like one more thing on an already overloaded plate.

Then there’s all the brilliant information, inspiration and ideas on here — amazing, yes, but also... a lot.

So I drew this in a moment of overwhelm (and possibly marinara).
(𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘵 1000𝘮𝘱𝘩 — 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 t𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘺.)

• Anyone else feel this?

• How do you balance daily existence with potential extinction?

So… what is Drawn to Reason?

Drawn to Reason is the space I needed ( maybe you do too).
It’s where I explore climate communication, values and behaviour — not from a pedestal, but from wherever I get wifi.

I’m a full time working, single parent - a sustainability strategist and hobbying artist - and often feels like I’m failing at all of the above - but I care. Deeply. I believe most people do too — even if they’re too exhausted or confused to show it right now.

So this space is for the ones still trying:

• The overwhelmed

• The overcommitted

• The ones asking “What difference can I make?” through a mouthful of leftover pasta.

You’ll find visual essays, honest takes, cartoons that explain and reframe and tools to help you think (and feel) your way through the mess.

The big idea

Drawn to Reason is rooted in this belief:

People don’t change because of more facts.
They change when something speaks to their values, identity, and sense of agency.

I want to draw out that reason — emotionally and logically. To connect the heart, the head, and the hands. To make climate action feel less like one more burden and more like something that could actually lighten the load.

Sometimes it will be serious. Sometimes satirical. Always rooted in empathy and evidence.

What’s next?

Right now, I’m just getting started. You can expect:

• Visual storytelling (cartoons, illustrations, infographics)

• Weekly-ish posts about climate, identity, and action

• Tools to make climate conversations easier and more human

• Honest, hopeful reflections from inside the juggle

If that sounds like something you need in your inbox — stick around. If you know someone else who needs this too, send it their way.

Oh — and yes, my son got the part. So if I haven’t replied to your message, I’m probably running lines. Or washing gymnastics kit. Or saving the world in five-minute bursts between homework and bedtime.

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If you've ever tried to talk climate with someone who doesn't share your views, you've probably hit the wall: denial, deflection, or outright hostility.

Most people don’t like being told what to think, especially if it feels like it’s coming from ‘the other side’.

The mistake many campaigns and activists make is to start with where they want people to be, which puts the audience on on the back foot defending who they are.

So issue 1 will start where they are — with their values.

What are values and why do they matter?

Values are our internal compass. They're the principles we use to decide what matters, what feels right, and what we stand for. Unlike passing opinions, values tend to be stable over time and deeply tied to our identity.

Values are often invisible in our daily conversations, yet they shape almost everything we believe and do. Psychological research confirms that values provide the foundation for attitudes and motivate behaviour, especially when actions align with a person’s sense of self. If the language of climate action doesn’t match someone’s moral priorities, it won’t resonate—no matter how urgent or accurate it is.

Want to go deeper? Read the full article

Why people act the way they do

Identity and social norms

Identity theory helps explain the link between values and behaviour. Our identities (as parents, workers, Brits, nature-lovers, etc.) come with scripts for how we behave. These roles are reinforced by social norms — what people like us are "supposed" to think and do. These identities come with expectations — and we tend to behave in ways that confirm them. If you see yourself as a responsible parent or patriotic citizen, you’ll support actions that align with those roles.

If climate action is framed as “leftist” or elitist, it can feel like a threat to that identity — even if the outcomes (like cleaner air or energy security) match your values.

So when a climate message threatens one of our identities (say, by implying a good parent must eat vegan or a true patriot must oppose fossil fuels), we feel discomfort. Not because we don't care, but because it clashes with who we believe we are. Studies confirm that identity alignment is a better predictor of climate action than factual knowledge alone (Stets & Burke, 2000).

So, if we want messages to land, we need to start by recognising the identities and norms that shape behaviour — and work with them, not against them.

Values across the political spectrum

Where we may differ

In a later issue we will look at the different audiences as how society as not as polarised as it may appear. Spoiler alert: We’ll draw on the More in Common seven segments work.

In the US, research reveals consistent moral patterns across the political divide. Liberals tend to emphasise values like care, fairness and protection from harm, whilst conservatives give greater weight to loyalty, respect for authority and moral purity (Haidt & Graham, 2007). These values shape far more than voting preferences; they affect how people respond to climate messaging, policies, even scientific evidence.

In the UK, party allegiance is weaker, and voters are more likely to shift their support if a party no longer reflects their core values (Evans & Neundorf, 2018). NatCen’s research suggests that, whilst British voters remain values-driven, they are more pragmatic and less bound by tribal loyalty.

Where we may agree

Despite polarisation in the media, a recent study by Karimi-Malekabadi et al. found that across the political spectrum, people expressed concern about climate impacts — especially when issues were framed through values they identified with. Shared goals like health, safety, security and national pride often emerged, even when motivations differed.

Take renewable energy: a progressive might support it to reduce carbon emissions, whilst a conservative might see it as a way to strengthen national energy independence. Both value the outcome — but arrive there via different routes. This highlights a key opportunity for climate communication: not to change minds, but to shift the moral framing.

Want to talk climate without triggering defences?

Listen first: What values are they expressing? What roles matter to them (parent, worker, faith leader)?

Avoid labels: Don’t lead with "climate crisis" or "net zero." Use shared outcomes ("safe homes," "cheaper bills").

Match the moral language: If they value freedom, talk autonomy. If they value care, talk protection.

Where climate communication has failed

Climate action has become politicised. Fisher (2022) reported that while concern is high across ideologies, climate policy is seen as "left-wing." This makes it harder for people on the right to publicly support climate solutions, even if they care.

The problem isn’t just content—it's tone and tribe. Krause & Scheufele (2025) show how online media ecosystems feed "identity-protective reasoning," where people reject facts that contradict their group norms. Climate psychologist Kris De Meyer calls this "motivated disbelief."

When messages are moralistic, technocratic or scolding, they don’t just fall flat—they push people further away.

Values aren't barriers — they're bridges

If there's one takeaway from the research, it's this: we make more progress by building on people’s values, not pushing against them.

Kumar and Singh (2023) found that sustainability campaigns are more effective when they connect with people’s cultural identity and emotional priorities, not just environmental facts. Hornung (2022) adds that stories resonate most when they reflect who we are — not who someone else wants us to be.

This calls for a shift — not in facts, but in framing. Instead of insisting 'this is what must be done,' we start by asking: what do you already care about?

Clean air for your children? Secure jobs? Controlled energy bills? Climate action can support all of those — if we frame it through the right lens.

Want people to listen? Start where they are

Use this quick-reference cheat card when planning conversations, policies or posts

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