Vision Communications Reality Check

A few weeks ago on these E-pages, I wrote about the difference between vision, mission and perspective, and why I increasingly believe perspective is the most honest of the three. After the piece was published, a few readers called. Some agreed with the argument. Some pushed back, especially on vision. They felt vision by definition cannot be too precise. That conversation stayed with me. This piece grows out of that exchange and a longer career spent watching how vision is communicated, sold, defended, and sometimes quietly recycled.

In theory, Vision Communications exists to explain where an organisation is headed and why. At its best, it provides direction and reassurance. It helps people make sense of change and reduces uncertainty. Those are legitimate communication goals. Anyone who has worked in PR or corporate communications knows that calm is often as important as clarity. The problem starts when reassurance becomes a substitute for thinking.

In many organisations, especially in India, vision statements often stay deliberately high-altitude. Big words. Broad intent. Safe abstractions. The belief is that details will catch up later. First sound inspiring; the spreadsheet, the plan, the accountability can wait.

Clarity, however, is uncomfortable. The moment you are clear, questions follow. What exactly do you mean? By when? At what cost? Who owns the failure if it comes? Clarity attracts scrutiny.

Ambiguity does not. It offends no one. It includes everyone. Ten people hear ten different things and still nod in agreement. That is why it sounds strategic. That is why it often passes for leadership.

This is where Vision Communications begins to drift.

Over time, it becomes a space where half-formed ideas are dressed up as long-term direction. Not because people are dishonest, but because the system rewards certainty over honesty. A vague promise is safer than a clear commitment. A broad narrative is easier to defend than a measurable plan.

PR and communications professionals sit close to this fault line. We are often asked to shape messages when the thinking is still evolving. That is part of the job. We smooth edges and sequence information. We choose what to say now and what to say later. The work becomes problematic when language is used not to clarify, but to conceal.

That is how stupidity, quietly and politely, becomes monetised. Not the obvious kind. The comfortable kind. The kind that fits neatly into decks, town halls, and leadership posts. The kind that sounds impressive without being tested. It does not shout. It reassures.

When these visions fail to deliver, they rarely fail outright. They “evolve”. Priorities are “recalibrated”. The narrative is “refreshed”. What changes is not the thinking, but the framing. A new story takes the place of the old one, and the cycle continues.

India, with its pace of change and constant external disruptions, makes this easy. There is always a context to point to. Markets moved. Policy changed. Technology shifted. Global conditions intervened. The original vision quietly exits without anyone having to admit it was thin to begin with.

For younger professionals and management students, this can be confusing. Vision Communications often looks like leadership. It sounds positive, photographs well and gets applauded. But communication without rigour is not leadership. It is presentation.

Good Vision Communications is grounded. It acknowledges limits and admits uncertainty. It resists over-promising. Most importantly, it invites questions rather than discouraging them with language that sounds strategic but says very little.

Bad Vision Communications does the opposite: it creates distance. It rewards fluency over depth and trains organisations to value confidence more than competence. That is not a talent problem. It is a reward-system problem.

Vision Communications remains a powerful tool. Used well, it aligns people and builds trust. Used carelessly, it becomes expensive noise that keeps organisations busy but not necessarily better.