A decision may be well-founded yet still come across as poorly explained.
This happens in a call for proposals where many organisations are left out. In a project selection process based on technical criteria that almost nobody understands. In a consultation where a lot is heard, but minor changes are done. Or in a company, a social organisation, or a public institution that has to say ‘no’ but does not know how to do so without appearing cold, opaque, or guilty.
The scenario is quite common: someone asks for an explanation, and the organisation responds with a long, correct text, full of nuances… but written from a position of unease.
And then something curious happens. The explanation does not reassure. On the contrary: it fuels suspicion.
The problem does not always lie in the decision itself. Sometimes it lies in how it is explained, when it is explained, and which part of the process remains invisible to those on the receiving end.
Because those affected are better able to accept a difficult decision when they understand what was decided, on what criteria, within what constraints, and what they can expect next.
Some words should be used with care in institutional communication. Trust, legitimacy, accountability, and responsibility often appear together, but they do not mean the same thing.
Trust is about the relationship. It is the expectation that an organisation will act reasonably, consistently, and honestly, even when we cannot see the full picture from the outside.
Legitimacy is a more delicate matter. An institution, a company or an organisation cannot simply declare its own legitimacy as if stamping a document. Legitimacy is recognised from the outside. It is granted, or withdrawn, by the people who observe that behaviour, that process, those values, and that way of making decisions.
Accountability involves being able to explain what was done, why it was done, according to what criteria, what limits were in place, and what the consequences of the decision are.
Taking responsibility involves more than just explaining. It means not hiding behind procedure when a decision causes harm, frustration, or reasonable doubts. It means responding, correcting where necessary and learning.
This distinction changes the fundamental question.
Communication does not ‘manufacture’ legitimacy. Nor can it demand trust as if it were an obligation of the public. What it can do is create better conditions for a decision to be understood as reasonable, traceable, and accountable.
The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s (OECD) 2024 survey on public trust helps us understand that we are talking about more than just information: 41 per cent of those surveyed believe that their government uses the best available evidence to make decisions, and only 39 per cent consider communication on policy reforms to be adequate.
This is a trust gap.
Explaining is not the same as making excuses.
Explaining should be a proactive gesture: clarifying a decision, setting out the criteria behind it, and establishing its limits before the organisation is forced to respond under pressure.
Making excuses, on the other hand, usually arises when the explanation comes too late. It does not always have an aggressive tone. Sometimes it is a well-written, polite text full of details. But it arises in response to a suspicion, a criticism or a request for explanations that had previously gone unanswered.
The difference is immediately apparent.
A clear explanation says: ‘This is how it was decided, for these reasons, with these limits and these next steps.’
A defensive justification usually says—even if it does not say so literally: “Now that we’re being questioned, we need to prove that we did the right thing.”
And that is where the problem begins.
Transparency is not about publishing a lot of information when criticism arises. It is about making visible, from the outset, what is relevant to understanding a decision: what was done, why it was done and what real scope for manoeuvre existed.
Transparency without discernment can be overwhelming. Justification without listening can be irritating. Well-designed accountability, on the other hand, can sustain trust even when a decision is unpopular.
In public, social, or corporate contexts, many decisions are made under pressure.
There are limited budgets. Legal rules. Political priorities. Technical criteria. Tight deadlines. Data protection. Confidentiality. Pre-defined mandates. Balancing the interests of different stakeholders. Expectations that are impossible to meet all at once.
All of this may be reasonable. But if it is not explained, from the outside it may appear to be something else: a decision that is opaque, difficult to understand or made based on criteria that no one can see.
And that is where the risk lies. A decision may have followed internal, legal, or technical rules and yet still be perceived as unclear, unfair, or poorly communicated.
That is why the useful question is not: ‘How do we communicate that we are legitimate?’
The useful question would be more specific: what does an outsider need to see to recognise that this decision is based on sound criteria, has clear boundaries, and is underpinned by accountability?
Article 41 of the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union enshrines the right to good administration. This includes the right to be heard, access to the case file whilst respecting the legitimate interests of confidentiality and professional secrecy, and the obligation of the administration to state the reasons for its decisions.
The European Code of Good Administrative Behaviour follows the same line of thinking: a decision affecting rights or interests must clearly state the relevant facts and the legal basis, and avoid brief, vague, or unreasoned justifications.
For communications teams, the practical implication is simple: the explanation cannot be improvised at the last minute.
If the criteria are unclear, the explanation will be flimsy. If no one has considered which parts can be explained and which should be withheld, the message will arrive too late. If the process does not provide for feedback to those involved, the final communication will sound incomplete.
When an organisation must communicate a difficult decision, it usually starts with the message.
“What do we say?”
But the first question should be a different one:
What does the person receiving this decision need to understand?
To structure that answer, I suggest working with four very simple layers:
Layer | Question to be answered |
Decision | What exactly was decided? |
Criteria | Why was this decision made? |
Limitations | What could not be changed, promised, or published? |
Feedback | What happens now to those who took part, applied or were left out? |
It is not a magic formula. It is a way of preventing communication from becoming a last-minute defence.
The first layer seems obvious, but it fails more often than you might think.
What exactly has been decided? Who is affected? Who had the authority to decide? When does it come into effect? What is included and what is excluded?
A difficult decision should not begin with an abstract phrase such as ‘following a rigorous process….’ It may be true, but it does not clarify much.
It is more helpful to state clearly: what is changing, for whom, and from when.
In a call for proposals, for example, it is advisable to explain how many projects have been selected, what types of projects were eligible, which phase has been completed and what steps follow next.
In a public consultation, it is advisable to explain what decision has been taken, what contributions were received and which part of the process remains open.
Clarity reduces confusion. It also reduces unnecessary suspicion.
The second layer is one of the most important.
The criteria show that the decision does not depend on hidden preferences, last-minute pressure or intuitions that are difficult to verify.
Simply stating “technical criteria were applied” leaves the public in much the same position as before. It is better to explain which criteria were used, how they were weighted, what evidence was considered and what thresholds made the difference.
The OECD notes that only four out of ten people consider it likely that their government uses the best available evidence, research and data when making decisions. It also indicates that better communicating the evidence used to reach a decision could improve perceptions of trust. Its 2024 public trust survey links this directly to how governments explain their reforms.
The practical implication is simple: the criteria must be understandable to anyone who was not in the room.
If only the committee understands them, they have not been communicated. They have merely been documented.
This is the most uncomfortable layer. And often, the most necessary.
Every decision has limits. Some are budgetary. Others are legal. Others relate to confidentiality, personal data, security, commercial interests, deadlines, or competences.
Identifying these limits does not weaken communication. It can strengthen it, provided it is done accurately.
The most common mistake is to hide the limit until someone asks. Then the organisation responds too late, in a defensive tone, and the limit comes across as an excuse.
It is better to explain this from the outset: what could be decided, what could not be decided, and why.
For example:
“We cannot publish candidates’ personal data, but we can explain the assessment criteria and the aggregate results.”
Or:
“The consultation could not alter the legal framework that had already been approved, but it could influence its implementation and operational priorities.”
Statements like these do not eliminate all frustration. But they bring structure to the conversation.
The fourth layer is often overlooked.
A process is not closed when the decision is published. It is closed when the people involved understand what happened to their input, what they can do now, and what lessons the organisation has learnt.
This idea ties in with something I have already discussed when talking about communication in times of uncertainty: communication must also help people understand what has been done, what gaps have been identified, and what changes will follow.
In public participation processes, this feedback carries great weight. In fact, the IAP2 Spectrum of Public Participation includes, at the consultation and engagement levels, a commitment to provide feedback on how public input influenced the decision.
The European Commission also presents its ‘Have Your Say’ portal as a space where citizens and stakeholders can share opinions and evidence and points out that these contributions inform the decision-making process.
Feedback, therefore, is not merely a nice touch. It is part of the communicative contract.
Without feedback, participation can seem merely cosmetic. With feedback, even a limited decision can gain public understanding.
Saying ‘no’ should sound neither cold nor apologetic.
A dignified ‘no’ has four elements:
Acknowledgement: the organisation demonstrates that it has understood the expectations of the person or organisation concerned.
Reasoning: it explains which rule, priority or evidence was applied.
Limits: it clarifies what could not be changed, published, or promised.
Next step: indicate whether there is an appeal process, a new call for applications, a channel for enquiries, planned learning, or further information.
A structure would be:
“We understand that this decision may cause frustration. The assessment was carried out in accordance with the published criteria: [criteria]. In this case, [specific reason]. The main constraint was [budget/places/mandate/confidentiality]. From now on, [next step].”
This is not a template for glossing over a decision. No amount of wording can make up for a poorly designed process.
However, a good structure avoids two extremes: opaque silence and a never-ending explanation.
Sometimes, saying ‘no’ with dignity means accepting that the other person will continue to disagree. Communication does not have to create consensus. It must foster understanding, transparency, and respect.
An organisation cannot publish everything. Nor should it promise to do so.
There is information that must be withheld for reasons of data protection, confidentiality, security, professional secrecy, legitimate commercial interests, or the integrity of the process. Article 41 of the Charter of Fundamental Rights itself recognises the right of access to the file, but balances this against legitimate interests of confidentiality and professional secrecy.
The key point is not to publish every detail. It explains the criteria for publication and for withholding information.
A useful statement might be:
“We publish the criteria, the procedure, the aggregated results, and the lessons learnt from the process. We withhold personal data, confidential information relating to applications and information protected by applicable regulations.”
This kind of wording helps because it shows that withholding information is not arbitrary. There is a reason for it.
A European case illustrates this tension well: the debate over public access to documents relating to COVID-19 vaccine contracts. The Court of Justice of the European Union explained in 2024 that the General Court had partially annulled the Commission’s decisions on access to documents because it had not sufficiently demonstrated that broader access to certain elements would harm commercial or privacy interests.
The matter was still ongoing in 2026: according to Reuters, Advocate General Athanasios Rantos recommended dismissing the Commission’s appeal against the 2024 judgement. His opinion is not binding, but it keeps alive a very clear public debate on transparency, confidentiality, and accountability.
The case does not serve to argue that everything must be made public. It serves to demonstrate something more useful: when there are legitimate limits, explaining those limits is also part of building trust.
Rigid templates often fall short. When making difficult decisions, it is best to work with message frameworks that each team can adapt.
Decision: “Your proposal has not been selected in this call for proposals.”
Criteria: “The assessment was carried out based on [published criteria].”
Constraint: “The number of proposals eligible for funding was limited by [budget/places/scope].”
Feedback: “You can view [a summary/the criteria/aggregated results] and apply for [the next opportunity], if applicable.”
Decision: “[Number] projects have been selected.”
Criteria: “The selection prioritised [criteria].”
Limit: “The call for proposals did not allow for the funding of projects outside [scope/territory/deadline].”
Response: “We are publishing a summary of the process and have opened a channel for procedural enquiries until [date].”
Decision: “Following the consultation, [element] is retained/amended/incorporated.”
Criteria: “The contributions were analysed according to [criterion].”
Limitation: “Some aspects fell outside the remit of this phase.”
Feedback: “This summary shows which contributions influenced the decision and which could not be incorporated.”
The structure is simple. But it forces you to think before you write.
Before publishing a sensitive decision, a communications team can ask itself five very specific questions:
What does a person affected need to understand to recognise that the decision has been made judiciously, even if they do not agree with it?
What criteria are applied, and where are they published or explained?
What limitations exist, and which ones should be mentioned before they come across as an excuse?
Which parts of the information can be published, and which parts should be withheld, with a clear reason given?
What feedback will those who participated, applied, contributed, or were excluded receive?
These questions do not replace legal, technical, or political work. They structure it so that communication is not delayed.
Because a difficult decision does not become more credible simply by sounding certain, it is more likely to be recognised as reasonable when it allows the process to be seen with sufficient clarity.
Communicating difficult decisions requires a delicate balance: clarity without harshness, prudence without opacity, and empathy without promising what cannot be changed.
The useful question is not ‘how do we defend this decision?’
It would be better to ask: what does a reasonable person need to know to understand how it was reached, what constraints were involved, and what might happen next?
If you work in institutional, social, or public engagement contexts, I would be interested to read your thoughts on LinkedIn: where does trust break down first – in the criteria, the limits, the tone, or the feedback?
Explaining in good time is a proactive gesture: it sets out criteria, process, boundaries, and next steps before the organisation must respond under pressure.
Making excuses is usually reactive. It arises when there is already suspicion, criticism or a request for explanations that were not provided clearly enough beforehand. It does not always have an aggressive tone; it can be a correct and polite text. But it comes too late and serves a defensive purpose.
The difference is evident not only in the tone but also in the structure. An explanation sets the process in motion. A justification attempts to protect it once it is already being questioned.
Accountability means explaining what was done, why, on what basis and with what consequences.
Taking responsibility goes one step further. It involves accepting the consequences of a decision, responding when something goes wrong, correcting the situation if necessary, and not hiding behind procedure.
It is helpful to distinguish between four layers: what was decided, on what criteria, within what limits, and what feedback those affected receive.
When these layers are made clear, disagreement may still exist, but the sense of arbitrariness is reduced.
An institutional ‘no’ should acknowledge the expectation, explain the criteria applied, state the limit and offer a next step.
There is no need to dramatise or harden the message. The person needs to understand why the answer is negative and what options remain.
It is advisable to publish criteria, procedures, aggregated results, timelines, avenues for appeal or consultation, and lessons learnt from the process.
Personal data, confidential information, professional secrets, information protected by regulations, or details that could compromise the integrity of the process should be withheld. The key is to explain the criteria for what is published and what is withheld.
Closing the loop means explaining what happened after listening: which contributions were taken on board, which could not be incorporated and why, what is changing now, and which channels remain open.
Without this feedback, participation may seem merely tokenistic.
A useful structure comprises four sections: decision, criteria, limitations, and feedback.
First, the specific decision is stated. Next, the criteria are explained. Then, the actual limits of the process are clarified. Finally, it indicates what the affected person, organisation, or community can do next.
This article is based on an editorial line and approach defined by me, Laura Mellado. Artificial intelligence tools have been used to assist with research, structuring, and editing. The final version has been reviewed, verified, and approved by me.
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