Expert
Culture for civic repair: how to reopen public dialogue
Cultural practices can support civic repair by creating recognition, shared presence and institutional learning without reducing culture to propaganda.
June 11, 2026
There is a scenario that repeats itself more often than we would like to admit. An organisation spends weeks preparing a proposal. A municipal team launches a participatory process and receives valuable contributions. A local partner proposes a collaboration with good intentions. And, in the end, the response comes in a short, neutral, almost automatic sentence: “It is not possible at this time.”
The problem is not the “no”. The problem is what it leaves behind: a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Was it really evaluated? Were there criteria? Is it a question of resources or priorities? Is it a definitive “no” or just a matter of timing?
When that uncertainty sets in, trust erodes quickly. And in any field, including the institutional sphere, regaining trust costs much more than losing it.
Saying “no” is part of the job, whether in business, public service, cooperation, or any system of calls for proposals. There are limits on the mandate, budget, technical capacity, and schedule. The key is how that refusal is formulated and, above all, whether the other party leaves with a sense of fair treatment.
Legitimacy is built daily. In small decisions. In emails that no one celebrates. In how you manage expectations when you cannot accept a proposal or cannot promise a result.
In the European Union, for example, the right to good administration includes the impartial and fair treatment of matters, as well as guarantees such as the right to be heard and, in general, practices that aim at decisions that are motivated and carried out with institutional correctness. It is not necessary to cite rules to respond well. But it helps to remember that giving reasons and treating people with care are not details: they are part of the democratic contract.
A poorly communicated ‘no’ usually has two effects at once.
The first is emotional: the other party feels ignored or dismissed. Not because they are fragile, but because participating in, proposing, or requesting a meeting takes time and exposes you. If the response comes without context, that investment seems pointless.
The second is structural: suspicion arises. When there is no explanation, people fill the void with hypotheses. And in environments where there is already mistrust of institutions (or large organisations), the void is quickly filled: “they had already decided”, “it’s all about connections”, “they asked us for our opinion to cover their backs”.
In competitive calls for proposals, this risk is particularly high. Rejecting proposals is normal; doing so without a clear response has a cost that is rarely noted in a report: organisations that do not reapply, partners who become disengaged, communities that stop participating, and teams that lose credibility.
That is why “no” is not just an answer. It is a moment of relationship management.
One reason many rejections go wrong is that they are treated as if they were all the same. And they are not. In institutional work and cooperation, four different “no’s” keep appearing. Each one requires a different language.
Here, the idea is not rejected because it is bad. It is put on hold due to timing, priorities, or actual capacity.
The typical risk is the indefinite “we’ll see,” which leaves the other party in an eternal state of limbo. If the “no” is temporary, the most respectful thing to do is to set an anchor: a date, a condition, or a milestone that allows the issue to be reopened without starting from scratch.
A well-phrased “not now” sounds like this: “We cannot open a new line this quarter because we are committed to X. If Y is confirmed in June, we will reassess it. In the meantime, if you like, leave it on record in this channel, and we will link it to the next cycle.”
It is not a promise. It is an order.
This is one of the most useful, because it usually hides a “yes, if you adjust it”.
Here, the substance may be acceptable, but the format, approach, or method is not viable. The person receiving the “no” needs one thing: what would need to change for the proposal to have a real chance.
There is a vast difference between “it doesn’t fit” and “it doesn’t fit because of this; if you reformulate it around A and B, then we can review it.” The first message closes the door. The second provides guidance.
When you must say “not like this,” it’s best to be specific. Even a short sentence with two precise adjustments is often worth more than a polite and abstract paragraph.
This is the classic “no” in calls for proposals and selection: there are rules, thresholds, and priorities.
Here, perceived fairness depends on two things: that the criteria are clear and that the feedback connects with those criteria, not with opinions.
In European programmes, for example, evaluation reports are used to inform the Evaluation Summary Report (ESR) sent to applicants with the results. The European Commission explains that consensus comments form the basis of the ESR, which is sent together with the result letters. The idea is not to “copy” the procedure, but to learn from its logic: when an application is rejected, an explanation is given as to which criteria it failed to meet and which part was weak.
In a “light” institutional version, this translates into something straightforward: “According to the published criteria, this proposal does not pass X. We saw strength in A, but weakness in B. If you resubmit it, here are two points that usually make a difference.”
That kind of response does not guarantee that the other party will be happy. But it usually prevents them from feeling slighted.
This is the most delicate “no” in the context of cooperation and alliances. Sometimes the request is reasonable, even desirable, but it depends on variables that you do not control future budgets, political decisions, third parties, licences, and institutional timelines.
The costliest mistake here is the “diplomatic yes“. That “yes” sounds friendly, but then it falls silent. In the medium term, silence has a worse reputation than an honest refusal.
A good “we cannot promise” combines limits and alternatives: “We cannot commit to X because it depends on Y. What we can do is A (this is within our power) and review it on this date.” The difference is that the alternative must be real. If it is not, it is better not to offer it.
When a refusal works, it usually has three layers. Not as a rigid formula, but as a natural sequence.
First, clarity. Say, why not? Be direct and avoid phrases that sound correct but do not inform. Much friction arises from ambiguous refusals: the other party does not know whether to insist, rephrase or withdraw. Ambiguity is not always prudence; sometimes it is just fear of causing discomfort.
Next, respect. Not respect as an ornament, but as recognition of the time invested. Here, it is best to avoid empty templates. A specific line (“we have reviewed this part in particular”, “thank you for the work you have done on X”) changes the tone. Not because it “softens” the no, but because it shows attention.
And finally, an honest way out. Not a false door. A way out can be an alternative route, a possible adjustment, a conditional timetable or a helpful resource (criteria, guidance, examples). The keyword is honest: offering a next step that does not exist only prolongs the frustration.
There is one rule that helps a lot: separate the reason from the judgment. “It does not fit these criteria” leaves room for understanding. “This is not right” sounds like a sentence. In institutions, personal judgment often sparks conversations that lead nowhere.
In participation and cooperation, there is a recurring reason for anger: it is not the “no”. It is the feeling of a black hole. “We said things, we contributed time, and we heard nothing more.”
That is why the response is critical, even when the result is negative.
The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) clearly states this in its participation guidelines. After a consultation, it is advisable to communicate the results to participants and the public and explain whether and how the contributions will be used; this is what we would call “closing the loop”.
That response can be brief and yet very effective. In practice, it works when it answers three simple questions:
What we heard. A summary of what was received. If there were several lines, grouping them helps.
What we decided. What is being incorporated and what is not, without hiding the uncomfortable parts.
Why and what’s next, this includes criteria, mandate, budget, feasibility, deadlines, and the next step (even if it’s “we’re closing here and will reopen on X date”).
This should not be turned into an endless report. The important thing is that the person who participated or made a proposal knows that their contribution had a place, even if it did not have the result they expected.
Saying “no” in institutions and in cooperation is not a defeat. It is part of exercising limits responsibly. The problem arises when the “no” is communicated without clarity, with distance or without feedback.
If you want to continue the conversation, I am very interested to know what kind of “no” you have to give most often in your work: “not now”, “no like that”, “no because of criteria” or “we can’t promise”. I look forward to reading your comments on LinkedIn.
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