Universities are not generally known as hotbeds of modesty, but you’d never guess that by looking at university sustainability websites.

One of the most common flaws is a lack of focus on what the university is doing, and how its institutional values and educational commitments influence its approach to sustainability. Instead, many sites speak in generalities about what sustainability is (I’ve lost count of the number of sites that quote the U.N. definition on their home page or in another prominent position), why it’s important, and what people can do about it.

The problem is, there are countless resources online for that kind of information, and generalities on why it matters don’t engage people in sustainability initiatives. When key audiences come to a university site they want to know what actions the university is taking, how those actions relate to the university’s mission and community responsibilities, and how people on campus can participate. That’s why, as I said in a previous post, the best sites put school policies, goals, and strategy front and center.

If you’re going to define sustainability, do it in terms of what it means to Whatever U. Describe why efforts in each sustainability area are important in Whatever U’s context (cold winters, water shortages, etc.). Tailor tips to campus goals and your specific audiences (there’s little point in telling students who live in dorm rooms how much carbon they can cut by weatherizing their home). And cite your achievements—they tell people that your sustainability message is more than talk.

The cover feature in the The New York Times Magazine’s recent “Green Issue,” “Why Isn’t the Brain Green?” delivers rich food for thought for communicators. The article delves into what decision science research tells us about how people respond to environmental issues. Basically, our tendency to undervalue future benefits, assess risk based on emotion, and deal with a “finite pool of worry” spells trouble for efforts to deal with climate change.

It’s a long article not amenable to summarization, and it’s worth reading in full for the insights it provides on how we might communicate more effectively about climate change solutions.  For example, this nugget: a fee for carbon pollution described as an “offset” gets much more support than one described as a “tax.” Turns out it’s not necessarily the principle of paying for pollution that people object to; it’s the negative loaded term “tax” that inspires rejection.

That’s no surprise, you might think, but in environmentalists’ discussions of the pros and cons of a carbon tax, “people won’t accept a tax” is always a main con. Calling it something else to make it more palatable doesn’t seem to have emerged as a solution. People may fear that it won’t work because the public will see it as a dodge, but that may be true only when you’re using alternative wording that’s already been tagged as misleading and has its own negative connotations–”fee” instead of “tax,” for example.

Such solutions lead author Jon Gertner to an interesting ethical question: is this unfair manipulation? Gertner writes:

[Elke] Weber and David Krantz, two of the co-directors of CRED [Center for Research on Environmental Decisions], have given the matter a good deal of thought, too. ‘People need some guidance over what the right thing to do is,’ Krantz told me. But he said that he was doubtful that you could actually deceive people with decision science into acting in ways that they don’t believe are right. ‘Remember when New York tried to enforce its jaywalking laws?’ he asked. ‘You can’t enforce stuff that people don’t believe should be done.’

I’m with Krantz: what’s the harm in helping people get to an end they want (and I think most people, even if they don’t see it as a priority, would like to halt climate change) by working with their brains instead of against them? Read the article and see what you think.