Why climate conversations must be considerate

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OPINION

By Karen Helmy Ademun

“Climate change is real.” “Reduce your carbon footprint.” “Plant trees to save the planet.” These are messages we hear often written on placards by environmental activists, international organisations, and even government officials. But suppose you imagine saying this to a single mother anywhere in Uganda whose only focus today is to put food on the table.

In that case, it sounds like another unlikely, far-fetched, abnormal, unusual and distant problem spoken in a foreign language. Uganda, like many other African countries, is grappling with both extreme poverty and climate change, but we must ask: how do we share knowledge about climate change to communities already burdened by hunger, joblessness, and social inequality?

The answer is not to stop talking about it, but to start conversing differently. Climate change is not just a scientific problem for scientists; it is a human, political, and entrepreneurial/investment problem. And until we align our conversations with the realities people live with, especially in Uganda, we will continue to fail in turning awareness into meaningful action. Uganda is experiencing multiple predicaments.

On one hand, it is highly vulnerable to climate change, which manifests itself as unpredictable rainfall, prolonged droughts, floods, and rising temperatures. This has led to the disruption of vital economic sectors, including agriculture, water sources, and healthcare systems. On the other hand, poverty remains widespread, with over 41% of Ugandans living on less than $1 a day, according to the Uganda Bureau of Statistics (UBOS); a predicament that is most prevalent in rural areas, with a large share of subsistence farmers who depend directly on the environment for their survival yet have limited resources.

Much of Uganda’s climate change dialogue is shaped by the educated middle class, NGOs, and development partners. These conversations often happen in hotels, workshops, or urban conferences in Kampala, Gulu, or Mbale. The language is often technical and revolves around terms like mitigation, adaptation, resilience, loss and damage. Such heavy words often make sense in policy papers but not in a village context.

There is a growing disconnect between those who discuss climate change and those who experience it most directly. This divide risks deepening public mistrust. For instance, when climate activists urge people to “stop cutting trees,” what they may not realise is that in many parts of Uganda, firewood and charcoal are not choices but are necessities and means of survival. To make matters worse, when communities are told to “stop farming near wetlands,” they’re rarely offered viable alternatives.

This is not to say environmental degradation should be ignored, but rather that solutions must be contextual and participatory. If climate advocacy appears to ignore the economic survival of the people, it will face resistance, no matter how urgent the crisis may be. A more considerate approach begins with listening, not preaching. Many climate actors assume that people are unaware of climate change, which is not the case.

A farmer in Teso can tell you how seasons have changed. A herder in Nakasongola can show you where pastures used to be. A mother in Bwaise can describe how flooding has become more frequent. This means that the knowledge is there, but it just doesn’t come in PowerPoint format. What’s missing is a bridge between local realities and policy-level interventions.

Considerate climate communication is available out there, but it should start by acknowledging the daily struggles of the majority world. Conversations should explain how climate change impacts people’s livelihoods, their existing food, water, energy and housing conditions.  After gaining a good understanding of the prevailing conditions and offering practical solutions……then……….???. 

Talk about affordable, low-tech adaptation strategies (like all manner of drought-resistant crops, improved cookstoves, or rainwater harvesting) that people can adopt without large investments.  The tone with which these messages are delivered matters.

The tone should be one of empowerment as opposed to shame.  Instead of ‘othering’ and blaming communities for using charcoal or plastic bags, what counts is supporting them to co-design, generate and access alternatives that are economically feasible, socio-culturally acceptable and environmentally friendly.

It is also advisable that the messaging using graphics, local languages and media is promoted because they are more relatable and inspire a sense of community, trust and ownership.  Radio, community drama, and storytelling in Luganda, Ateso, Runyoro, or Lugbara are more effective than English-language brochures.

If we want climate actions to reach the grassroots, we must embed them into development programs, not treat them as a separate agenda or a footnote. Climate-smart agriculture, for example, should be introduced alongside access to micro-credit, market linkages, and land rights. Urban resilience strategies must include not just drainage systems but also housing upgrades, waste management, and job creation for informal workers.

Government agencies and NGOs must also rethink how success and failure are measured. We need clear and acceptable progress markers or change parameters rather than only counting the number of trees planted or workshops held. We must assess whether communities are more resilient or not, and whether they have food during a drought. Can they access healthcare after a flood? Are youth getting green jobs?

Of course, not everyone agrees on how to balance the climate urgency with poverty reduction or improvements in household socio-economic welfare. The are two threads here. On one hand, some scholars, politicians and media commentators have a single narrative that focuses on basic needs and delays action on environmental threats that can no longer wait. They emphasise that climate change is accelerating, and unless drastic changes are undertaken now, millions of people will suffer or even starve later.

This is a valid point. But it cannot justify ignoring who gets hurt first and worst. Urgency should not lead to authoritarianism. We need both speed and sensitivity, both science and social justice. And what that means is designing policies that are pro-people, pro-poor, and pro-planet, not just in theory, but in how they are implemented.

On the other hand, there are the climate purists who fear that compassionate climate communication will dilute the seriousness of the crisis. But in reality, it makes it more powerful. When people feel seen, heard, and included, they are more likely to act. If we want Ugandans to take climate change seriously, we must first take Ugandans seriously. To tell someone about climate change while ignoring their hunger, poverty, or displacement is not just ineffective, it’s unjust.

The fight against climate change in Uganda cannot be separated from the fight against inequality, food insecurity, and marginalisation. Climate justice is, at its heart, a call for dignity. Dignity must be exhibited in how we design policies, how we deliver aid, how we communicate risk, and how we co-create solutions.

So yes, we must talk about climate change. But we must do it considerately, with humility, empathy, and deep respect for the lived realities of ordinary Ugandans. Only then will our climate messages move from words to action, from policies to impact, and from fear to hope.

The writer is an MSc Climate Change and Development, Makerere University [MAK]; Miss Climate Change Awareness - Community Impact (2025- 2026)