Have you ever felt that no matter how much you hone headlines and schedule publications against the clock, your words are diluted among saturated inboxes and narratives competing for seconds of attention? If, as a communications professional, you sense that the public is no longer satisfied with passively receiving information, this article is for you.
In the accelerated pace of contemporary communication, polishing messages is no longer enough: the audience wants you to look them in the eye, listen to them, and help them navigate the complexity of information.
That is why I propose a change of perspective: to move from merely broadcasting content to building shared meaning, the territory where trust in the media is won (or lost) today.
My first international projects made me believe that everything depended on finding “the perfect phrase“. I soon discovered that it is much more complicated than that. At round tables where policymakers, academics, activists and business representatives met, the same sentence that excited one group left another indifferent (or irritated). The obstacle was not the language used, but the cultural and professional frameworks from which each group interpreted reality.
More than once, I have heard interlocutors say: “We don’t see ourselves reflected in this narrative”, and I have understood that valuable ideas are lost because the format, tone or timing was not appropriate.
Communicating with shared meaning requires more than linguistic precision; it involves connecting divergent realities and translating interests that do not share the same symbolic code to begin with.
When these bridges appear (sometimes two sentences anchored in everyday experience are enough), the conversation ceases to be a succession of monologues and becomes a meaningful exchange.
Of all the verbs that underpin communication, listening remains the least mentioned and the most decisive. Conscious listening implies delaying, giving up the initial protagonism, and accepting that “what we think we are saying” rarely coincides with “what the audience understands”. It also involves recognising the weight of words in the recipient’s culture.
When we speak of “empowerment”, do we think of financial autonomy, political participation, access to information… or all of the above? This polysemy is not a defect; it is an opportunity to convey complexity without sacrificing depth. The key is to open up the conversation before setting messages—questioning, cross-checking, reformulating, in short, co-creating.
At the end of the process, the resulting text may not be the most rhetorically brilliant, but it will be the one that resonates best in the shared imaginary.
The latest Edelman Trust Barometer reveals that only 56% of the world’s population trusts institutions—business, government, NGOs, and media—and distrust of online information is at an all-time high. This distrust is the backdrop of public conversation: it is not visible in reach metrics, but it decides whether a piece of content catches fire or evaporates.
Trust is not given away with a flawless message; it is watered with gestures of transparency, coherence and humility. Showing the process (sources, verification criteria, even legitimate doubts) creates a space of co-responsibility where the audience can agree, question or contribute. That calculated vulnerability is the price of credibility in 2025: we assume we don’t know everything, but we demonstrate how we arrived at our conclusions.
Trust takes time, but once cultivated, it multiplies the impact of everything we do.
The conversation about digital trust is no longer just an ethical issue; it is also a legal one. With the Digital Services Act (DSA) phasing in 2022 and coming into full effect in February 2024, large platforms operating in the EU are required to remove illicit content more diligently, explain how their algorithms work, and offer clear avenues of appeal to users. For communications teams, this means reviewing internal protocols:
The DSA alone will not solve the problem. Still, it inaugurates a culture of mandatory transparency that rewards those who were already working rigorously and penalises those who relied on the opacity of the digital flow.
In an environment of overinformation, the most effective security tool is the critical thinking of the receiver. Media education, understood as the ability to analyse the intention, origin and context of a message, ceases to be a school project and becomes a civic obligation.
As some young people told me, “We don’t want to be told what to think; we want to learn to think for ourselves”. That phrase sums up the urgency of evolving our communication practice: from persuading to empowering.
And this challenge, for us communicators, translates into incorporating media literacy micro-practices into every piece: explaining why a figure is relevant, linking to the original document and acknowledging the limitations of the data. Not to turn every publication into a verification manual, but to sow small reminders of rigour that, accumulated, will raise the collective demand.
In May 2020, the World Health Organisation (WHO) launched #StopTheSpread, a global initiative, developed in collaboration with the UK Government, to curb the “infodemic” of COVID-19 hoaxes. The campaign invited citizens to stop, verify and share only verified information, offering quick guidelines for reporting misleading content on each social network.
Although it was born with logistical and creative support from the UK government, dissemination was global: WHO adapted the materials for its regional offices and distributed them to ministries of health and NGOs on every continent, demonstrating that media literacy can scale quickly when institutional partnerships are built.
The transition from message to meaning happens when we transform principles into routines. Three gestures, consistently applied, make the difference:
Before launching a piece of content, submit it to the eyes of people who represent your real audience. Their questions, objections or silences will reveal nuances that the internal team does not see.
Change the logic of the story: instead of closing with an unassailable conclusion, end with a question that invites the reader to prolong the story. This gap of uncertainty is the space where dialogue is born, multiplying the organic scope and qualitative engagement.
Integrate brief explanations of your sources and verification processes into any piece of content. Add links to fact-checking tools and reflect on possible biases. These small methodological gestures build confidence and cultivate critical thinking.
Thank you for accompanying me up to this point. Your interest shows that you share the vision of responsible communication and the conviction that communicating means, above all, enabling others to construct their meaning.
Imagine if every professional focused on opening spaces for dialogue instead of just meeting objectives: how would our practice and the social impact of our projects change?
I invite you to reflect on the future, in citizen meetings, public forums or cooperation spaces:
Communication doesn’t end in the clarity of the message; it begins in the construction of shared meaning.
If you’d like to explore these ideas further and share your experiences, please feel free to connect with me on LinkedIn. I would like to know: What strategies have worked for you to communicate with an increasingly sceptical audience? How do you integrate listening and transparency into your daily practice?
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