As floodwaters swept through parts of Accra, homes disappeared beneath muddy water, businesses counted devastating losses, and anxious families searched for loved ones, one thing became clear: crises do not only test the resilience of a city—they also test the character of those who communicate with it.
In times of national emergency, social media becomes far more than a platform for entertainment. It is a source of life-saving information, a space for collective grief, and a digital gathering place where communities seek reassurance, support and hope. Every post published in such moments carries weight.
Yet, amid the flood of updates, emergency appeals and stories of survival, some brands and institutions carried on with promotional messages, humour or attempts to capitalise on a trending moment. A discount countdown appears directly beneath an appeal for missing persons.
A cheerful campaign voice lands in a feed thick with grief. Whether intentional or not, such communication often creates the impression that engagement matters more than empathy and audiences notice the dissonance long before they forgive it.
Empathy Is a Discipline, Not a Sentiment
The question is not whether brands should stay silent during a crisis. They should communicate- but with purpose. The real question is this: what kind of communication does a nation in distress actually need? The answer begins with empathy. Empathy is not simply expressing sympathy after tragedy strikes. The hurried “our thoughts are with you,” published to tick a box and move on, is not empathy; it is reflex. Real empathy is the discipline of understanding the emotional reality of an audience before deciding what to say- and, just as often, what to leave unsaid.
It asks communicators to pause before posting and weigh a simple but powerful question: how will this message land with someone whose home is underwater, whose business has been destroyed, or who is desperately trying to reach a family member? For communication professionals, this is not an optional consideration. It is the foundation of every decision.
What Algorithms Cannot Do
The temptation to remain visible online is understandable. Brands invest heavily in staying relevant, and social media rewards those who join conversations quickly. Content calendars are built weeks in advance, and scheduling tools fire posts automatically, indifferent to whatever is unfolding beyond the screen. A promotion queued in calmer times can publish itself into the middle of a tragedy, and the damage is done before anyone thinks to intervene.
However, algorithms do not understand human suffering. They reward attention. Communicators, however, are expected to exercise judgement—something no algorithm can replace.
Sometimes that judgement is as simple as pausing the schedule and asking whether today is the day to sell anything at all. In many marketing teams, that decision falls to whoever happens to be online, which is precisely why it should be assigned in advance—to someone trusted to read the moment and empowered to halt the queue before it does harm. There is a profound difference between joining a conversation and understanding its context.
Every Crisis Offers a Choice
Every crisis offers organisations a choice. They can contribute meaningfully by sharing verified information, directing people to emergency services, amplifying safety messages, offering practical support, or simply expressing solidarity. Or they can contribute to the noise by chasing impressions, humour or visibility at the expense of compassion.
The stakes are rarely symmetrical. A single tone-deaf post can undo goodwill built patiently over years, while a moment of genuine care is quietly remembered long after the waters recede. History shows that people rarely recall the cleverest campaign during a disaster.
They remember the organisations that stood with them when they needed it most—those that turned their platforms over to information that mattered and offered help without first asking what it would earn them.
Every Message Sends Two Messages
Perhaps the greatest lesson for every communications team is this: every message sends two messages. One is contained in the words themselves.
The timing conveys the other. A statement of solidarity, offered in the right spirit but at the wrong moment, can still wound. During moments of national tragedy, timing can determine whether a post builds trust or breaks it. Communication is not merely about being seen. It is about being understood, responsible and human.
Empathy as Strategic Necessity
As climate-related disasters grow more frequent and digital communication instantaneous, brands must recognise that empathy is no longer a soft skill—it is a strategic necessity.
The reputational risks of getting it wrong are immediate and public; the rewards of getting it right are slower, quieter and far more durable. The organisations that earn lasting public trust will not be those that post the fastest, but those that know when to pause, when to listen, and when to place humanity above visibility.
Because when a nation is hurting, the most powerful message a brand can send is not one designed to go viral. It is one that reminds people they have not been forgotten.
