The basics of narrative change, framing and testing for progressive social change.

Working on communications and creative action when you’re trying to make change at the grassroots can often leave you feeling stretched. We’re rapid-responding, reacting to the latest news story, campaign setback, or key moment. And we don’t get the support we need to work out how our efforts sit in the wider landscape of social change, or how our ideas will play out further down the line, affecting the way people think, feel and act in the longer term.

So, here’s an offering from us, to give you some space to learn and to get creative with new ways of approaching our shared fights for justice—we’re launching our brand new free mini-series of introductory online workshops.

First, some big internal news — after ten years as a flat structure organisation, we’ve unflattened (just a little). We hope to put our reflections in writing soon; watch this space!

You’ll likely know Hannah, previously our Curriculum Lead extraordinaire, who returned from parental leave as our new Head of Programmes alongside a new team member, Anu, as Head of Operations. We’ve been getting to know each other as a team with Ant and Faith, and had two lovely residentials in beautiful Machynlleth.

Join us to learn how to talk about modern slavery in ways that builds understanding and sparks effective change.

Wednesday 18 December 2024, 12.30 – 14.00 (Online)

On a Wednesday afternoon, just before logging off, I received an email: “Save the date for a global convening on narrative change that IRIS, Puentes and Global Narrative Hive are co-organising this October in Bogotá.” A work trip to Colombia? Yes please! The opportunity to learn about narrative change outside of the UK and to learn from global narrative change practitioners felt too good to be true! 

The first day of the conference arrived, and I felt the awkwardness and excitement of a first date. I was not sure who to approach, where to sit, or what to do with my hands. Then the facilitators welcomed us to the space and I began to relax. Matthew Armstead led us in the diversity welcome. I felt welcome as they named aspects of my identity: bisexual, survivor, in my 20s, feeling nervous, religious background. 

Who is allowed to know things in our society? Duwayne Brooks wasn’t. When Duwayne’s friend, Stephen Lawrence, was murdered in a racist attack in south-east London in 1993, he told the police what he’d seen: six white thugs killing his friend while shouting racist abuse. But his testimony was discounted because, as a young Black man, Brooks was not considered a credible witness by the Metropolitan police.

The political philosopher Miranda Fricker describes Brooks’ experience at the hands of the state as ‘testimonial injustice’ – an injustice perpetrated when someone’s account is rejected because of prejudices about their characteristics. Systemic oppression makes you unbelievable, no matter what you saw, no matter what you say. Examples abound: consider sex workers who are told they can’t have been raped because they’re sex workers; women who urge doctors to believe their physical pain, only to be told it’s in their heads; children whose disclosures of abuse are smoothed over for the sake of adult peace; trans people whose gender identities are derided… the list goes on.

This is, for Fricker, part of an overarching problem which she calls ‘epistemic injustice’, and which I’m introducing here as one portal (of many) into understanding why we need to ensure narrative change is led by those currently excluded from that work. Episteme means knowledge, so ‘epistemic injustice’ is a way of conceptualising the many oppressions perpetrated in the realm of knowledge. Who gets recognised as knowing things? Which knowledge counts? How must knowledge be packaged and communicated to be credible? I’m sure we can all think of many encounters with gatekeepers of these capacities, both our own and those we’ve witnessed.

When I started thinking about what to write I had been cat sitting for my best friend who has a pretty decked out kitchen – and I was planning to make the most of all the fancy appliances. While that did not happen, I instead was left with the feeling of being nourished. I ate well, spent time in nature, I moved my body and finally did some reading of a book I’m excited to borrow once my best friend is done with it.

When we think of learning, we often think of schools, colleges, universities. But learning is an ancient thing, that existed before all of these institutions and will exist long after. Its something that crosses species: like how honeybees dance to teach others where to find the best flowers. Every species on earth is what it is today because it learnt from the generations that came before.

Are you a changemaker, a storyteller, or someone who’s looking to shift the way people think, feel, and act? Then we’d love to learn, grow, and build collective narrative power with you.

APPLICATIONS ARE NOW CLOSED.
Thanks to everyone who has applied, we’ll be in touch soon.
If you’re interested in supporting the programme as a mentor, trainer, or content partner, email our Workshops Lead, , with a bit of info about you, how you’d like to be involved and any useful links 🙂

We’re excited to launch the ‘Building Our Narrative Power’ course—supporting people who have lived experience of the issues they are fighting for, to skill-up and shape the narrative for justice and social change, to create waves of action and lasting progress. We’re looking for 16 people who are all passionate about transforming societal narratives across social, climate, and economic justice.

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We are living off expired stories. Stories that expire can no longer dance with you. They are lethargic or stuck, they can’t move things in generative ways any more, but we often feel we cannot let them go. Many of these expired stories give us a sense of security, purpose and direction—precisely because they seem stable and solid.

Vanessa Andreotti

Reeling in the grief of the summer of 2020, I reflected on how the work of narrative change was itself “living off expired stories”; its practices embedded in racism.

Here, I’d like to try shifting gears and evolving where we’re at. What might the work of learning and doing narrative change look like if we moved it beyond coloniality, capitalism, patriarchy and whiteness?

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