Getting Started
What makes a narrative work
Decades of research across psychology, communications, and social movements point to three questions that determine whether a narrative moves people to act:
Do I recognize myself and my world?
Does this connect to my values and identity?
Do I trust who is saying this?
Do I see people like me already doing this?
Do I see a role for myself in how change happens?
Is there a future worth working toward?
Can I see myself acting in this?
Is responsibility shared across actors?
Do I find this account of change credible?
Does this hold together as a story of change?
Can I see concretely how change happens?
Does the emotional tone evoke possibility?
Do I recognize myself and my world in this narrative?
People engage with narratives that reflect who they are and what matters to them. When a narrative feels inconsistent with their identity or values, it triggers defensiveness and disengagement.
Recognition isn’t only about values and identity. It’s also about who is speaking and who is seen to be acting.
While scientists remain among the most trusted sources on climate change, people also place high trust in socially proximate voices: friends, peers, and people they recognize as similar to themselves. Particularly among skeptical audiences, these relational sources often carry more weight than institutional expertise. Trust depends not only on credentials but on perceived sincerity, shared values, and whether the messenger communicates with respect.
Narratives also signal what is considered normal. When climate action is associated with a particular kind of person or a narrow group, participation feels socially risky even for people who agree. Narratives that show others already acting across communities, sectors, and institutions signal that change is underway and that people are not acting alone.
For example: The Invest in Britain campaign, launched in 2024, makes the case for public investment in clean energy and green infrastructure – but it doesn’t start with the climate. It starts with what people in Britain are already experiencing: years of austerity, a health system under strain, crumbling infrastructure, and a sense that the country is falling behind. By anchoring the narrative in that lived reality, the campaign makes recognition immediate. People don’t need to be persuaded that something is wrong – they already know it. From that shared ground, the campaign connects green investment to what people actually want: good jobs, reliable public services, and an economy that works for their communities. The climate case travels inside a narrative people already inhabit.
Do I see a role for myself in how change happens?
Your audience needs to see their role in the story of change. They need to understand what they can do and how they fit within a broader effort. When they do, they shift from observers to participants.
They also need to be able to see their role in a future that is better than today, and understand what they themselves can do to help get there. This makes climate action feel relevant and worth supporting.
It also matters where responsibility is placed. Narratives that place the sole burden of systemic change on individual consumer choices feel unfair. Similarly, narratives that hand all responsibility to experts, policymakers, or activists leave most people feeling excluded and insufficiently engaged. Effective narratives demonstrate how responsibility is shared among citizens, institutions, businesses, and governments, and how each can play a meaningful part.
For example: When Greenpeace traced the palm oil in KitKat bars back to cleared rainforests in Borneo, they built a narrative that gave every actor a specific role. A viral video – parodying KitKat’s own “Have a Break” slogan – showed consumers exactly what their everyday purchase was connected to, and asked them to pressure Nestlé directly. Consumers flooded Nestlé’s social media. Nestlé, under public pressure, dropped its palm oil supplier. Other major brands – Mars, Mondelez, Hershey – followed, committing to no-deforestation sourcing policies. The narrative worked because it made each step of the chain visible and actionable: consumers could pressure brands, brands could exclude deforestation from their supply chains, and palm oil companies faced real commercial consequences for clearing forest.
Do I find this account of change credible?
The narrative needs to explain how change happens. People need to understand who is involved, how change unfolds, and how actions today connect to outcomes over time. When this is unclear, actions can feel symbolic or pointless.
Change needs to be tangible. Concrete examples show how change happens in practice and how people and institutions participate. This makes it easier to grasp how systemic change works.
It also matters whether the narrative is internally consistent. A narrative that combines urgent alarm with a sense that catastrophe is already inevitable creates a contradiction: if the future is already decided, why would anyone’s actions make a difference? For a narrative to be credible, the emotional register needs to match the ask.
For example: In June 2024, Swiss voters approved the Stromgesetz, a law to expand domestic renewable energy – with 68.7% in favour. The campaign succeeded because it offered a credible account of how change would happen: concrete targets, funded incentives, and clear roles for government, industry and homeowners. Rather than leading with climate alarm, it drew on something voters had recently lived through — the energy shortage anxiety of 2022 and 2023 – and made the case for energy security and independence. The climate argument travelled inside a narrative people could follow and believe.
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