Picture a room in Johannesburg where a poet, a meteorologist, a broadcaster, a student activist, and a professor are all talking about the same thing: how to tell the truth about climate change in a way that actually moves people. That was the energy at a recent conference hosted by the University of Johannesburg’s Department of Communication and Media, in partnership with the Centre for Data and Digital Communications. Under the theme “Youth, Media and Climate Action: Reclaiming Narrative Power for Transformative Climate Futures in Southern Africa,” the event brought together scholars, students, journalists, civil society groups, private companies, and youth-led organizations to ask a deceptively simple question: who gets to shape the climate story, and who benefits from the version we hear? The conference recognized that, too often, young Africans are treated as audiences to be informed or warned, rather than as thinkers, creators, and leaders who already know what their communities need. It also took seriously the growing threat of climate misinformation and greenwashing—carefully packaged lies and half-truths that can quietly convince people that climate action is useless, or that polluting projects are actually good for the planet. In response, the conversations in Johannesburg centered on building media literacy, supporting independent journalism, and handing narrative power back to young people, especially those who live with the daily realities of drought, flooding, and uncertain harvests. There was a shared sense that communication cannot be an afterthought in climate policy; it is the bridge between scientific evidence and lived experience, and if that bridge is weak, action collapses.
One of the strongest voices at the conference was Professor Admire Mare, the lead researcher behind a project on gendered electoral disinformation in East and Southern Africa. He spoke directly to the danger of climate disinformation, describing how it is often organized, deliberate, and surprisingly effective because it builds on real grievances. People may already feel excluded from decisions, abandoned by authorities, or skeptical of foreign-funded projects, and disinformation exploits that resentment by twisting facts into a reason for inaction. Mare pointed out a painful irony: Africa has contributed less than four percent of global emissions, while the global north has contributed far more, and yet climate lies often target Africans with messages that undermine the very action needed to protect them. Greenwashing, he argued, makes thing worse—projects that call themselves “green” while continuing to pollute do not just deceive consumers; they poison trust in genuine solutions. Instead of giving in to doom, Mare proposed a practical path: meet young people in their own spaces, using their languages and familiar formats; teach them not only how to spot a lie but how to investigate and create stories that matter; and strengthen independent journalism, open data, and citizen monitoring so that those in power can be held accountable. His central message was that climate communication should be locally led and grounded in trust, not imported from distant capitals. It should ask not only, “Is this claim true?” but also, “Who made it, and who benefits from us believing it?” That kind of questioning, he suggested, is a form of climate action in itself.
The conference also shared findings from a major research report on how to communicate climate change to young people across the Southern African Development Community. Dr Sanele Gamede, a lecturer in communication and media and the convener of the event, presented results from group interviews with more than 400 young people in eight countries, supplemented by online surveys. The report’s findings were grounded in everyday realities. Young people care about climate change, yes, but their urgency is shaped by more immediate pressures: finding work, putting food on the table, paying for school, getting clean water, staying healthy, and feeling safe. A message that says, “The ice caps are melting,” can feel abstract and irrelevant to someone whose daily struggle is a power cut or a flooded road to work. The research also showed that global climate information often feels distant unless it is anchored in familiar places. People need to see how change affects their own village, their own crops, their own seasonal patterns, and their own community knowledge. Jargon is another wall. Technical terms like “mitigation” and “resilience” mean little when they are not translated into language people actually use. But the report found that stories and emotion are powerful tools. Local and indigenous-language stories can make climate science relatable, and while fear may get attention, it must be paired with practical, doable responses—otherwise it simply paralyzes people. Perhaps most importantly, young people are tired of being treated as passive recipients of information. They want influence: to help set priorities, shape messages and channels, create their own content, and judge whether communication efforts are actually useful. This is not a generation waiting to be spoken to; it is a generation asking for a seat at the table, and for the microphone too.
From these findings came a rich set of recommendations that framed communication not as a top-down broadcast but as a conversation. The study called for training young climate communication activists around issues they already care about, using plain and local languages, and blending scientific evidence with community knowledge—not replacing one with the other, but letting them speak together. It recommended a hybrid approach that meets people where they are: social media and short-form videos can reach some, but radio, schools, community organizations, entertainment, and face-to-face dialogue still matter deeply in rural and low-connectivity areas. The report also insisted on sharing decision-making with young people, and not just symbolically. If young people help shape a campaign, they need to see how their input changes outcomes; otherwise, consultation becomes another form of exclusion. Inclusivity was a recurring theme: communication must be designed with rural youth, young women, persons with disabilities, and people with limited literacy or internet access in mind, not as afterthoughts but as central participants. The researchers also recommended measuring not just how many people saw a message, but whether they understood it, trusted it, and acted on it. That means investing in skills like climate explanation, storytelling, verification, and dialogue, and expanding the research beyond the current eight countries to cover all sixteen SADC nations. What makes these recommendations feel human rather than academic is their insistence that climate communication is not about convincing people to care; it is about respecting what they already know and finding ways to connect that knowledge with science, without erasing culture or language.
Those ideas were echoed in a panel conversation featuring voices from the South African Weather Service, disaster management, the national broadcaster SABC, and the Southern African Regional Youth Environment Network. Thandiwe Gumede, a regional manager and meteorologist, shared how her institution is trying to make scientific data accessible to non-scientists. Instead of simply issuing warnings full of technical terms, they are focusing on the actual impacts severe weather will have on people’s lives, translating complex terms into local languages through a specialized dictionary, and using relatable analogies so that someone in a remote area can imagine what is coming. Lebogang Mosotho, a disaster management officer, made a striking point: language remains one of the biggest barriers in disaster management, and warnings issued only in English are often ignored or misunderstood. That is not a small problem—when a cyclone is approaching, the difference between a clear warning and a confusing one can be life or death. SABC Group CEO Nomsa Chabeli added that the public broadcaster has a huge responsibility and an equally huge opportunity, because it can broadcast in many languages and use storytelling to connect scientific evidence with lived experience. Sibongile Mavimbela, representing the youth environment network, pushed the conversation further by insisting on bridging the gap between technical research and public messaging through platforms like youth climate dialogues and the SADC Communication Awareness and Visibility Strategy, which aims to reach across different demographics and digital spaces. The panelists agreed that no single institution can solve this alone. Universities can provide evidence, media can amplify it, government agencies can act on it, and youth organizations can keep everyone honest—but only if they work together as partners, not as separate silos.
In the end, the conference was not just about warnings and risks; it was also about imagination and creativity. A research panel featuring students from the GEDESA project examined how false narratives about climate change affect public understanding and policy, but other sessions explored the positive power of radio, social media, poetry, music, film, photography, and digital storytelling. The underlying message was that climate action in Southern Africa will not be won by graphs and reports alone. It will be won by songs that carry scientific truths across borders, by local-language radio shows that help farmers prepare for unpredictable rains, by young filmmakers who show what a just transition looks like in their own neighborhoods, and by online creators who understand that a relatable video can sometimes do what a dense policy document cannot. Reclaiming narrative power, as the conference theme put it, means refusing to let outsiders define Africa’s climate story as either a tragedy or a marketplace. It means telling stories that acknowledge pain and struggle but also celebrate resistance, invention, and hope. It means holding polluters accountable while also believing that ordinary people, especially the young, are not just victims or spectators but authors of the future. The conference ended with a sense not of despair, but of determination—a reminder that communication is a form of action, and that telling the truth, in a language people understand, is one of the most radical and necessary climate actions there is.