This proliferation of channels and formats necessitates a shift in focus. The real quantum leap in internal communication no longer lies in how much we are able to send, but rather in the place which is occupied by the people within that conversation: whether they receive information or whether they also have a say; whether they are familiar with the company or also whether they know each other amongst themselves; and if they contribute, with their experience and their identity, in the construction on a day-to-day basis of corporate culture. In other words: being informed does not amount to feeling part of.

This distinction takes on particular significance now that the employee experience is taking up an increasingly prominent role on the agenda of organisations. Loyalty, commitment, the ability to attract and retain talent or the desire to recommend a company as a place to work do not come are built solely on the basis of communication. It would be naive to attribute such power to it. Yes it can contribute, on the other hand, to create some of the conditions that nurture that experience: listening, recognition, participation, visibility, mutual understanding and the ability to express oneself.

That is why the question is no longer simply how to communicate more effectively with employees. It is also important to consider what happens when we communicate with them, when we enable them to communicate with one another, and when, of their own accord, they begin to look beyond the organisation.

Because the sense of belonging is not something that is communicated. It is built up.

From internal audience to community

Research into internal communication has been pointing in this direction for a while. In 2007, Mary Welch and Paul R. Jackson proposed in Rethinking internal communication: a stakeholder approach to move beyond the view of the employees as a homogeneous internal audience and to address the organisation by catering to its various groups, levels and relationships. The idea remains as relevant as ever, since a company is quite more than a broadcaster when faced with a captive audience. It is a network of conversations, connections and interests which are constantly intertwined.

Almost two decades on, the problem seems to be less resolved than one might expect. The IC Index 2026, compiled from a representative sample of 5,000 British workers, indicates that only 52% believe their organisation welcomes open and honest feedback on its performance as an employer. This figure drops to 44% when asked whether the company adequately demonstrates how it uses its staff’s feedback to guide decisions and actions.

This point is worth noting because it introduces a fundamental distinction. Listening is not the same as setting up a suggestion box, launching a survey or opening a question-and-answer session at the end of a corporate meeting. Listening only becomes valuable when there is a perception that that voice will be heard. And this is where one of the tensions in contemporary internal communication arises: we have greatly increased our capacity to speak out, whilst the capacity to provide feedback on the conversation remains far more uneven.

We do not need to interpret these findings as an automatic cause-and-effect relationship. They are more interesting as an indication of a shift in perspective, whereby internal communication is beginning to move beyond its informative role to address the quality of the relationship an organisation maintains with its people.

That relationship is not limited to the classic two-way company-employee dynamic. In a living organisation, communication is necessarily multidirectional. The company engages with its staff and listens to them; staff interact with one another, exchange knowledge, get to know one another and recognise one another’s value; and, increasingly, some of these voices are also contributing to the external conversation about the company, its activities and the sector to which it belongs. In short, every member of the organisation begins to form part of the narrative.

To be known and recognised

Here is one aspect of the employee experience that I find particularly interesting: being known and recognised.

There is a difference substantial between both things. Recognition is usually associated with performance, to talent, to one’s achievements or to professional contribution. Being recognised introduces an additional layer: that the organisation and, especially, the people with whom we share our day to day know who is behind the role, of the department and of the mere photograph on the intranet. Belonging has quite a lot to do with that.

Companies have put a great deal of effort into defining their values and ensuring that their teams are aware of them. This makes sense. A shared culture requires common points of reference. The dynamic changes when there are spaces in which to express opinions, share knowledge, recount experiences and bring to the fore those personal aspects that each individual chooses to incorporate into their professional life. Collective identity then takes on greater depth because it makes room for individual identities.

This area also encompasses what is known as ‘emotional pay’, a concept that has often been trivialised to the point of becoming a catch-all term for employment benefits that do not appear on the payslip. Recent academic research offers a more precise interpretation. A study published in 2025 in the Journal of Work and Organisational Psychology defines it as a multidimensional set of intentional, non-financial organisational practices aimed at meeting socio-emotional and developmental needs. Its dimensions include relational elements such as recognition, fairness and social support.

It is worth drawing a clear line here. Communication, of course, does not in itself create emotional reward. It does, however, have the capacity to influence certain aspects of it, by highlighting a contribution, encouraging people to listen, creating opportunities for participation, connecting people, and recognising identities and knowledge that might otherwise remain hidden.

Because an organisation’s culture is also revealed in who it listens to, who it gives a voice to, and how much scope it gives its staff to be more than just the role they play on an organisational chart.

When the corporate content changes in terms of subject

This reflection takes on another dimension when it is applied to specific projects.

At comma, we have been working for some time with Grupo Mutualidad on ‘Tal como soy’, in collaboration with Esturión Producciones, an internal communications project linked to their Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) policy. Its aim is to give a face and a voice to the diversity within the organisation and to create an environment where people can express their individuality, sharing who they are beyond their job roles.

The premise seems simple, yet its scope in terms of communication is quite a bit greater, since the the content corporate changes from subject.

The organisation provides the framework, the channels and the capacity for production. The floor is then given to the individuals. And here, once again, the idea of being known and recognised comes to the fore. ‘Tal como soy’ allows each participant to express themselves and, at the same time, offers their colleagues the chance to discover aspects that usually remain hidden from professional relationships; backgrounds, families, challenges, hobbies and personal aspirations become points of connection.

Each piece is based on prior research into the individual and their background. From there, the unique aspect of their story is identified, a profile of the subject is drawn up, an approach is defined, and a specific shooting script is developed. The on-camera conversation is deliberately longer than the final edit to allow room for natural responses and spontaneous moments. Next comes the editorial work: selecting, prioritising, contextualising and constructing a story. The video provides a voice, a face and emotion; the written feature allows for a broader context and preserves other nuances. Furthermore, a single conversation gives rise to an ecosystem of content capable of circulating across various internal channels.

This methodology avoids another common risk in corporate communication: turning uniqueness into a label. This is probably one of the project’s most interesting contributions: recognising a person requires taking a broader view of them.

From being heard inside to projecting outwards

There is one more aspect to consider. If internal communication can help people find their own place in the company’s dialogue, it is reasonable to ask what happens when some of those voices extend beyond the corporate boundaries.

This is where ambassador programmes and employee advocacy come in – two concepts that run the risk of being undermined when interpreted as a formula for achieving organic reach through employees’ personal profiles. The more their messaging resembles the company’s corporate account, the less likely it is that their contribution will offer any distinctive value. The strength of a professional voice lies precisely in what they can contribute based on their experience, their knowledge and their understanding of the field in which they work.

In our experience, we have developed this type of strategy primarily on LinkedIn, helping groups of professionals to build their own presence which, at the same time, broadens the way in which the company presents itself to the outside world. The corporate narrative thus coexists with other narratives capable of providing knowledge, sectoral authority and a perspective born of day-to-day work.

An programme for ambassadors makes sense when it identifies knowledge within the the organisation and helps those who possess it to express it with judgement of their own. Communication accompanies that process by providing training, editorial guidance and a framework that enables them to navigate the digital environment safely, without blurring the personality or the authority of the person speaking.

This work also has a knock-on effect. Professionals who participate thoughtfully in public discourse can become role models within the company itself, build trust amongst their colleagues and help others gradually find their own way of doing so. The conversation then takes on a truly multidirectional dimension, as it circulates within the organisation, amongst its members and also outwards. The company stops projecting itself in a single form to begin to recognise itself as a plurality in harmony.

The reputation as a consequence of pride in belonging

For decades, organisations have taken great care in crafting the narrative and the channels through which they communicate externally. That work remains essential. Today, however, corporate reputation is also built from within, through the experience of the people who make up the company and the way in which they choose to speak about it when that experience extends beyond the organisation’s internal boundaries.

The question is no longer how effectively a company gets its professionals to repeat its narrative, but how many discerning voices it is able to accommodate, and to what extent that diversity helps to reinforce a credible reputation. Belonging does not mean everyone speaking in the same way; it means being able to find one’s place within a shared project whilst retaining one’s own voice.

When that internal experience is coherent, recognisable and shared, communication ceases to be merely a tool for information or participation. It becomes also a part of the reputation of the company. And perhaps that is where a community begins which, in addition to being well-informed and feeling part of, has reasons to feel pride and speak well of that to which she belongs.

La entrada Internal communication in support of the employee experience se publicó primero en Agencia comma.

The workings of economic cycles can be compared to drinking alcohol at a party: there is a blood alcohol level that can facilitate social interaction, lower our inhibitions and even give us good ideas, as can be seen in David Vinterberg’s film ‘Another Round’. But once that level is exceeded – which, once the party gets going, is bound to happen – almost everything becomes a problem. Among these, getting up the next day.

We can also liken credit to a good drink. The easier it is to grant loans, the higher the blood alcohol level. And, although we are relatively rational creatures, when alcohol starts to take effect, it always creates a certain sense of euphoria. If we equate alcohol with money, we arrive at the concept of financial euphoria: there is always a moment when we are convinced that our investments, our financial gambles, will yield the best results, as if the scenario we construct in our minds were to play out exactly as we imagine in reality. And that is precisely when we are at our most dangerous – to ourselves and to others.

From this feeling of being delighted to meet each other, we move on to the financial bar and get more money (or more drinks). With these financial drinks, we snap up shares, property and foreign currencies that can only go up in value. We win, those who sell win, and the barman wins too – the employee of the ‘alcoholic bank’ who, for the moment, is offering an open bar for everyone. The night stretches from midnight to four in the morning. And the body begins to show signs of exhaustion. And intoxication.

Only those who know how to drink, whether by nature or through experience, will leave the party on time. Those of us who stay will keep partying on. When a lot of people have already left, the disco begins to take on the look of an after-party. The investors least informed, those drinkers who are reckless or naive, continue to drown in alcohol, and the financial assets acquired, those drinks of more, no longer feel the same as good.

There comes a point when the alcohol-fuelled bubble bursts and you’re no longer dancing as you’d initially imagined. You might even wake up next to a stranger who, just a few hours earlier, was the conquest of your life. The sun shines right in your face, filtering through a rickety blind in a shared flat. Everything you did in that state of euphoria now seems like utter nonsense. A sense of shame sets in: many investments were based on overly optimistic decisions and forecasts of financial results that are no longer looking so good.

To continue with the analogy, all those in debt who bought things that were not actually worth that much are now in a great deal of pain. They have become impoverished and cannot offload the houses, assets or currencies they acquired during the boom. They are no longer winners but poor investors. In this case, the side effects will last more than a year or two, often for a lifetime. This is what happened, for example, following the 2008 financial crisis, which made it clear that many of the investments and loans were of very poor quality. The hangover is still being felt today, with a sullen Parliament full of hatred and poor responses. A democratic headache.

Regulating alcohol has led to almost always negative consequences. Prohibition strengthened the mafia and the criminal trade in the United States. So the solution should go in another direction: it would consist of telling people that getting rich quickly is like a street party, an event which only a minority of elected representatives can survive successfully. And that one must tread with great care when night falls, because the shadows cast on the ground deceive us if we are prone to it.

Political courage should consist of this: being able to burst the bubbles, and thereby break the self-destructive tendencies of society, whatever the electoral cost; limiting the banking sector’s lending capacity during periods of euphoria in order to bolster it during periods of depression, when loans are most necessary and urgent; and in not being seduced by periods of easy growth, but rather seeking to encourage investment in the economic fundamentals that are most likely to yield returns in the long term.

To conclude, let’s imagine a night out that allows us to have fun and get home before two in the morning. It might not be what the films show, but it would let us enjoy a good night out without overdoing it to the point of regretting it the next day. It’s not the most exciting option, but perhaps it is the most sustainable. We need political and business leadership that seeks exactly that. And, unfortunately, everyone is currently shouting, glass in hand, gazing at the moon as if it were there 24 hours a day.

*Article written by Andrés Villena, lecturer in Applied Economics at the UCM

La entrada Communicate to prevent drunkenness se publicó primero en Agencia comma.

The bubbles that fuel periods of financial speculation take shape long before prices collapse. Sometimes they are mere trial balloons, but on other occasions they appear to be grounded in reality. In any case, these bubbles arise from ideas. Before accounting imbalances or credit excesses—the triggers of stock market crises—accumulate, they take root in the investment climate through a collective narrative that seeks to convince people of a radically different future in which the classic rules of asset valuation no longer apply.

Do investors tend to suffer from low self-esteem? Are they simply the target of speculative greed on the part of certain market gurus seeking profits? Do they sometimes forget to value assets in the short term, to look beyond the immediate horizon, or to take a long-term view of their investment portfolios? Quite often—and not infrequently—the answer seems to be yes, judging by the rapid spread of episodes of irrational exuberance that have occurred since the middle of the last century. The IMF, for example, has recorded 414 currency crises, 200 sovereign debt crises and 151 banking crises. Dozens of them every decade.

It is true that most are local or regional. They appear to be limited in scope. But we must not underestimate their propensity for chaos. Because there have been ten instances of financial instability on a global scale since the oil crisis, some accompanied by global recession and all by stock market crashes, such as that of the 1973–75 period and its seismic aftershocks in the 1980s. Almost without a break, the Latin American debt crisis emerged. Another period of stress with widespread geographical repercussions that lasted a long decade until the Tequila Effect was overcome, which depressed the Mexican peso and spread to the markets and several banking systems. Or Black Monday in 1987, with synchronised falls from Hong Kong to every stock exchange on the planet, and the crunch in Japan two years later, which ushered in three long decades of economic stagnation and deflation in what was then the world’s second-largest GDP.

Before the end of the 20th century, there was still time for competitive devaluations of Asian currencies to take place and, almost in parallel, that of the Russian rouble, which resulted in five prime ministers in two years before Vladimir Putin came to power.

More recent —and even more global — have been the dot-com of 2000, with origins in the US and spreading recession in Germany and the credit crisis of 2008 with the nationalisation of Lehman Brothers and suspension of trading on the Stock Exchange in Moscow due to the freefall into the depths of hell of its share price. It was like watching the world upside down: the paradise of the free market buying with federal funds a a45> bank of investment private and the former USSR preventing the collapse of trading in capital. But it was not the last major systemic crisis. The European debt crisis of 2012, which was on the verge of bury the euro, and the Great Pandemic of 2020 caused by COVID -19 also led to economic contractions.

Common themes in the story

The story that has accompanied all of them has not been exactly the same. However, it contains common threads. The narrative that takes root in the markets not only persuades the investors, but also extends into the public arena. Analysts, banks, the media and political leaders end up reaching a consensus which seems to confirm that structural change is inevitable and is underway.

The 2013 Nobel laureate in Economics, Robert Shiller, described this phenomenon as narrative economics, based on the idea that the stories circulating in society directly influence economic behaviour and investment decisions. When a narrative gains sufficient traction — whether it be a transformative technology, a new financial model or a seemingly unstoppable economic cycle — it can become the oxygen that fuels any bubble.

The warning about irrational exuberance

One of the most famous concepts associated with them emerged as an institutional warning. In 1996, Alan Greenspan, then Chairman of the Federal Reserve, publicly wondered whether the financial markets were displaying “irrational exuberance that was inflating stock market valuations beyond their fundamentals”. The expression became a benchmark for understanding speculative cycles. Paradoxically, the warning did not dampen market enthusiasm. Over the following years, the Nasdaq continued to rise, driven by the tech narrative.

Until it burst, the dot-com bubble was the example most visible of how a story can dominate investor sentiment. The internet promised to radically transform the economy, eliminate intermediaries and generate new forms of productivity. Technology companies began to gain value more due to their potential rather than for their actual profitability. Shiller explained it in his a46> influential book Irrational Exuberance: “the markets can enter into dynamics collective where optimism feeds feeds back into and in which each rise confirms the dominant narrative, and that narrative continues to attract new investors”. In 2000, the Nasdaq crashed and the narrative changed with the same speed with which it had been built.

In the years leading up to the 2008 financial crisis, a widely accepted dogma also took hold: house prices were a structurally safe asset. This assumption justified an extraordinary expansion of mortgage lending. From so-called subprime loans to complex financial instruments. They were dubbed “toxic assets” and became a permanent fixture on bank balance sheets. They were vast in scale following years of excessive lending and, above all, highly dangerous due to the dubious recoverability of the loans granted. They imploded when the credit cycle began to deteriorate and the international financial architecture revealed its grave fragility.

Very few investment voices—including, amongst others, Jeremy Grantham and Nouriel Roubini—warned several months in advance that the US property market was in the grip of a bubble and that a correction was inevitable. To no avail. Because the prevailing narrative continued on its optimistic course.

Spain and the rhetoric of bricks

In Spain, the property bubble also had a very clear rhetorical dimension. Over the years, a mantra became firmly established in political speeches, industry reports and everyday conversations: that property was always a sound investment and its prices never fell. This narrative served both an economic and a cultural function. It justified a growth model based on construction and reinforced the perception of housing as the safest asset for family savings. The logic was simple and powerful: building created jobs, jobs drove demand, and demand sustained prices.

So, when the international financial crisis spread to the European banking system, that dynamic quickly faded. The once-stable engine of growth became the most serious vulnerability in the recent history of the eurozone’s fourth-largest economy.

The narrative pattern of bubbles thus follows a recurring pattern:

· Innovation or structural change: a technology or economic model emerges that promises to change the rules of the game.
· Expansion of capital and credit: markets mobilise resources to capitalise on the opportunity.
· Consolidation of the dominant narrative: analysts and the media reinforce the growth narrative.
· Decoupling of expectations and fundamentals: valuations become detached from economic reality.
· Abrupt shift in narrative: when results fail to meet expectations, the narrative is reversed.

Furthermore, on rare occasions they erupt due to a lack of information. Rather, they collapse when the narrative underpinning the optimism ceases to be credible. The new narrative—that of today’s AI—is beginning to follow in its wake. It is a technology that is transforming entire sectors, from business productivity to scientific research, and is triggering a massive wave of investment in companies involved in AI development.

To make matters worse, the voices are growing louder once again setting off the alarms once more. Top executives from firms in the investment and private banking assure that the climate for investors could be underestimating the impact of the conflict in Iran following a correction in the stock market which has become apparent on Wall Street in February, prior to the escalation of military tensions in the Middle East, due to the persistence of certain values linked to AI unleashed with excessive use of credit.

There are warnings that the market is once again functioning as a storytelling machine. And with good reason. After all, financial bubbles are not merely economic phenomena. They are also narrative phenomena. As history shows, stories are also traded.

La entrada The story that inflates the bubbles: of the irrational exuberance of the past to the new narrative of AI se publicó primero en Agencia comma.

Last week, in this blog, we reflected on how artificial intelligence is beginning to redefine not only how information is produced, but also who is involved in the process that makes it possible. In the context of 8 March, International Women’s Day, we addressed an increasingly evident issue: if technology is designed in environments that lack diversity, it runs the risk of reproducing—and even amplifying—existing gender inequalities.

In recent days, various studies have shown how some artificial intelligence systems reproduce gender patterns present in society. The latest report published by LLYC, Espejismo de Igualdad (The Illusion of Equality), reveals that certain AI models tend to suggest leadership roles or technical careers for men, while women are more often associated with profiles linked to caregiving or empathy.

This phenomenon brings back to the table a key issue for the field of communication and reputation: data matters, but so does the narrative that is built around it. Precisely along these lines is one of the most interesting conclusions of the study conducted by eToro on women and investment: Study on the profile of female investors in Spain.

When the problem is not trust, but rather the narrative

For years, the gender gap in investment has been explained with a seemingly simple argument: that women “lack confidence” to invest. This diagnosis has been repeated in reports, media analyses and public speeches until it has become almost an accepted explanation.

However, the data tells a different story. The study, based on the opinions of 1,000 women in Spain, directly challenges this narrative. According to the research, 32% of those surveyed say they are confident or very confident in their knowledge of finance and investment. The largest group—40%—falls somewhere in between, while only 8% say they have no confidence at all.

More than a widespread lack of security, which is reflected the data is a prudent and thoughtful attitude towards investment. And that difference in nuance is not insignificant.

The financial responsibility is already there.

One of the most striking findings of the study is that, in fact, women already play a central role in day-to-day financial management.

41% of women say they are solely responsible for daily household expenses. In addition, 32% are primarily responsible for family savings and investments, percentages that are much higher than those attributed to their partners.

This reality contrasts with their lesser presence in financial markets. Data from the CNMV show that only 26% of individual accounts investing in IBEX 35 securities are held by women.

The gap, therefore, does not appear to be due to a lack of ability or financial responsibility, but to more complex factors related to economic culture, public representation and the dominant narrative frameworks.

The impact of public discourse

Beyond the data, the study also analyses how they influence the messages public messages influence perception of women about investment.

The results are revealing. When respondents are presented with the idea that women lack confidence to invest, 14% say that this message directly discourages them from doing so. In addition, 28% say they feel judged, 25% feel frustrated, and 19% feel patronised.

On the contrary, when it is pointed out that female investors achieve better results than men, 51% say that this fact increases their motivation to invest. Among those who do not currently invest, one in four say that this recognition would spark their interest in learning more about investing.

It is clear that the narrative is not neutral. The way in which women’s relationship with investment is described can directly influence their participation.

Diversity and technology: a strategic imperative

However, technology alone does not guarantee more equitable outcomes. As we pointed out in our blog last week, technological systems can also reproduce existing biases if those who design and develop them do not represent the diversity of society.

Something similar is happening in the financial sector. The real imbalance lies in visibility and representation. If the future of investment is increasingly linked to technology and artificial intelligence, it is essential that women participate actively in these areas. Otherwise, there is a risk that the lack of representation will also spread to the most strategic areas of the sector.

From this perspective, diversity is not only a matter of fairness, but also a factor that improves model design, risk assessment and the resilience of financial ecosystems.

Change the narrative to change participation

Ultimately, the debate on the gender gap in investment cannot be reduced solely to technical or economic issues. It also has a cultural and narrative dimension.

While the prevailing discourse has for years emphasised women’s supposed shortcomings in relation to investment, the data suggests that this narrative is not only inaccurate, but may also be contributing to maintaining the gap.

The combination of financial education, greater visibility of role models, and new technological tools can help to redefine this scenario.

La entrada Changing the narrative: investment, artificial intelligence and the power of narratives se publicó primero en Agencia comma.