Our future is in our stories.

Last week I was at a workshop on local and global participation. One of the speakers wanted us to take away the message that “humans aren’t good at thinking about the future”. She reinforced this with images of environmental destruction.

I felt uneasy about this statement. Why? Because it doesn’t ring true to me.

It’s difficult to think about the future. It’s also very challenging when we’re immersed in stories of impending doom from climate change, peak oil, water scarcity, drought, famine and war.

For many of us, the future doesn’t seem like a place that we really want to be. 

So we don’t like to think about it.

But we need to remember that the future is written in our stories. Our future will be shaped by how we imagine it, how we talk about it, and what we say it will be.

Stories are part of our life support system.

Many of us are aware of the damage that we humans are doing to our planet. We differ in the stories that we tell, and the reasons we give, for this damage.

A dozen years ago I began working on social/environmental projects because a powerful story was at work in my mind. I’d picked this story up from other people and mixed it with my own experiences.

This is the story that framed my view of the world:

Our world is in crisis. We’re heading for collapse. Our ecosystems—the life support systems of our planet—are rapidly degrading. We’re threatening the conditions for our own existence. The poorest people suffer from this damage first. This is a huge injustice. It’s happening because of rampant individualism, consumerism and an economic model that often counts damage as progress. The world has gone crazy. We’ve lost sight of what’s important. 

Sound familiar? This is a storyline that we hear in many global and environmental narratives. It’s a story that challenges an old myth about progress.

I’m curious: how do you feel when you hear this story? Does it confirm your own story? Does it fire you up because you have a different view? Do you feel sad, angry or uplifted?

We need to look at “The Why” within our stories.

Hidden within the story above was something more subtle. It was the deeper “why” of the story:

Humans are doing this damage because we’re selfish. We’re only looking out for our own narrow interests—which may stretch to the interests of our family / business / nation. People don’t care.    

This belief that people don’t care was a weed in the core of my story. It’s also a common storyline in society. You know the one: it’s a myth about “survival of the fittest”.

This part of the story had become so ingrained in me that everything I experienced became shaped by this story. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy—but it didn’t help me to feel fulfilled.

As my career continued I worked harder and harder to “be the change” and “make things better”, because I told myself that I do care. But I was burdened by the belief that other people don’t care. I started to become cynical.

Then I grew depressed.

I realised that this wasn’t helping me in my work. What did I do? I added some hope to my stories. 

This is a well-tested method. If you read many environmental books, or watch presentations and see films about climate change, the narrative often goes like this:

In other words: there’s growing evidence of damage. The picture ain’t pretty. Actually it’s worse than you think. Much worse. It’s really rather grim. But wait! It’s OK. Everything will be alright. Look at all the things we can do. We can still turn this around. We just need to act. Starting with you.

Sound familiar?

The weakness of this storyline is that it focuses so much attention on what is wrong with the world that the hope doesn’t feel compelling.

Sometimes it even feels manipulative. It feels like the storyteller knows that they need to end on a high note to get action. But they don’t really have faith in what they are saying.

Today I realised that I’ve lost hope.

Hope is “a feeling of desire and expectation for a certain thing to happen” or “grounds for believing that something good may happen”.

Hope is a powerful belief. But it can turn into cynicism if our expectations aren’t met.

To me, hope only feels powerful when it’s really sincere. Then it’s something stronger than hope. It’s faith.

So today I’m declaring that I HAVE FAITH IN THE HUMAN SPECIES.

And I don’t just mean this. I whole-heartedly feel it.  

A crisis is the turning point of a story

My faith in humanity grew out of my own personal crisis—my depression and despair.

I used to believe that people don’t care. Now my understanding has shifted.

I can still hold that Big Story that says “our world is in crisis”, but the why of this story is different.

Another story has grown inside me, based on many observations, conversations and experiences over the last few years.

This is how the new story goes:

All of the social, environmental and economic “problems” in the world are symptoms of how we are being and how we are seeing. Many of us have become fearful and angry. So we struggle to protect just a piece of this world. 

Our view of ourselves is shaped by our stories. Many of these stories have become tired and twisted. They’re holding us back from realising our full potential.   

So the cure for these symptoms is simple: embrace life, love fiercely, see the potential in people, look for possibilities, and rework old stories to help us live well. 

I can’t see The End in this story.

The natural conclusion to my old story was that The World Is Going to End if we don’t do something big. Well, part of the world did end. Some of my old stories died.

That’s OK. Stories aren’t biological species. We just need to protect the ones that serve us well. We also need to let go of the ones that imperil our survival.

As for the future… I don’t know. My story about the future is an open book. I write it every day through my thoughts and my actions.

As for the future of the human species: that’s not just a story that’s waiting for us to discover. It’s a story that’s depending on us all to craft together.

NB: This article was also posted on Storypot. 

I recently spent a couple of weeks in Indonesia, and was shocked by the absolute mass of rubbish that fills streets, side roads and even remote areas. However, despite the lack of properly implemented recycling schemes and rubbish removal in many areas, glass soft drink and beer bottles continue to get re-used.

You will see thousands of plastic water bottles littering areas, but the vessels of choice for Fanta, Coke and your tasty Bintang, are re-used, old school glass bottles.  I can’t begin to know the ins and outs of the politics and specificities – I’m sure there are agreements between Coca-Cola and the government on how this all works financially, but it did get me thinking about container deposit legislations (CDL) in Australia.

I was born in the 1980s and thought I had some vague memory of there being schemes in place for aluminium can returns – but after some reading, it seems that NSW has never enacted a container deposit scheme. South Australia has successfully implemented such legislation and states that the scheme has been successful in reducing litter and promoting resource recovery. Since September 2008 the SA government has been giving by 10c for every beverage container, which is an increase from the previous 5c. This scheme has been running since 1977.

The Greens have been pushing for the nationalisation of container deposit legislation, and you can read Lee Rhiannon’s speech on the issue given in March 2012, here.  Since around 1990, local governments in NSW have been advocating for a state based legislation on container deposits in NSW, but the move for this to become a federal initiative has increased despite the 2008 Waste Avoidance and Resource Recovery (Container Recovery) Bill being voted down.

According to Clean Up Australia, Australians use 14 billion containers every year, equating to around a third of all litter in terms of volume. These vessels are made of materials such as glass, plastic and aluminium, which have the make up to be reused many times over, while simultaneously reducing the long term impacts of land fill, use of virgin materials and energy consumption.

Dr. Stuart White of the Institute of Sustainable Futures was commissioned to conduct research and a review of container deposit legislation in NSW, and the findings ring pretty clear.

 When both financial and environmental impacts were considered on a whole of society basis, the potential benefits of introducing CDL in NSW were found to significantly exceed the costs. The annualised net economic benefit of CDL in NSW in the case where recovered container materials are recycled was found to be of the order of $70-100 million per year compared to the current situation. This net economic benefit is largely due to environmental benefits that were valued by the CDL Review at $100-150 million per year. This valuation of environmental benefits is exclusive of the value of improved visual amenity due to litter reduction. Litter reduction is, however, an important benefit to be gained from CDL and has historically been a major driver for its introduction both in Australia and overseas.[1]

With this in mind, the mind boggles as to why this isn’t something that is being pursued with more vigor by local, state and the federal government.

The Australia Institute was suggesting similar approaches back in the early 2000s, pre-empting aspects of ISF’s conclusions. As Lee Rhiannon says in her March speech:

Aluminium production uses 15 per cent of the electricity consumed in Australia, and much of that energy comes from burning dirty coal. Every way you look at it, the wasteful setup we have currently of throwing these containers into landfill commits crimes in so many ways. 

As always, such schemes need to be part and parcel of a bigger overall commitment to finding better ways to deal with waste creation and disposal, but I do believe it would be an important component of future legislation. You can read more from the ISF’s executive summary here. Or if you want to get involved in the campaign, take a look at these tools built by the Boomerang Foundation and being supported by Clean Up Australia.

The Boomerang Council's Cash for Containers postcard.

There are tens of thousands of equally needy and legitimate refugees coming from many corners of the earth. But, what is the depth and breadth of Australia’s responsibility within the Asia-Pacific region to prioritise and take in peoples displaced by climate change who are no longer able to live in their homes safely?

In September 2009 Australia overtook the US as the number one per capita emitter of CO2. With Australia also holding the highest quality of life ranking in the Asia-Pacific region and our growth continuing to have a global impact on environmental sustainability, do we as the developed leader in the region have the responsibility to take refugees from places such as Kiribati, Tuvalu, Carteret Islands(an article by the George Monbiot) and Nauru (a recent op-ed piece by the President of Nauru), whose livelihood has been impacted by environmental changes induced by climate change?

Senator Sarah Hanson-Young of the Greens has said that Australia’s wealth and carbon emissions record meant it could not shirk responsibility for the impact of climate change on neighbouring nations.

While Pacific nations emit only 0.06 per cent of global greenhouse gas emissions, Australia is one of the highest per capita carbon emitters in the world. We cannot deny Australia’s complicity in this environmental crisis that is now impacting most dramatically on those whose homeland is more vulnerable to sea level rise. As the wealthiest country in the Pacific, Australia holds a special responsibility to help its neighbours cope with climate change.

Many low-lying islands of the pacific, some of which are our closest neighbours, have already begun to severely feel the effects of rising sea levels.  Cultures and identities tied to ancestral lands are literally being threatened by rising sea-levels, this is no longer a maybe or what if? When assessing asylum seeker’s status and eligibility it seems increasingly important to question whether the focus should be pointed at those seeking asylum from geographically close locations versus geographically distant asylum seekers from say the African continent. This is not an argument of which individual’s claim is more or less serious or legitimate – each refugee and asylum seeker with a genuine claim has the right to be formally and quickly processed by the Australian government. It is more a discussion about whether we should recognise our responsibility within our region first before going further abroad.

Australia’s contributions to climate change are measured on a global scale – ie., how much do we emit compared to other countries, what are our environmental practices compared to other nations, etc. So then, perhaps the argument on ‘regions’ and our responsibility in a immigration, refugee and environmental manner are not so relevant. Or do we have an increased responsibility to take a larger proportion of climate change refugees no matter which part of the world they come from?

This has already been an area of discussion within government, but I believe as the impacts of climate change continue to increase, more formalised dialogue is essential so as to ensure that such a way of thinking becomes part of a normalised approach to the issue of climate change refugees both within government, the media and the community. I do not propose to have a short and fast solution to the issue, but I am committed to the notion that communication and recognition of the legitimacy of these people’s situations and our complicity in their experiences is paramount.

If this is a topic that interests you, the following are worth watching and listening to. The recent documentary by film maker Tom Zubrycki The Hungry Tide screened at this year’s Sydney Film Festival. You can watch the trailer here. Another medium, NPR(the public radio broadcaster in the US) also produced this program earlier in the year, Preparing for sea level rise, islanders leave home.

The non-government sector in Australia is traditionally the strongest to condemn the operation of political media. While politicians blame journalists for forcing them into ‘sound bite politics’ and the media in turn blames politicians for spouting endless broken record rhetoric, it is advocacy groups such as GetUp! that stand on the sidelines, pointing out how this frustrated relationship erodes the democratic principals of our political system.

What’s interesting is that the non-government sector can also teeter dangerously close to the edge. Whether they like it or not, GetUp! and co also frequently embrace the sound bite and the evidence is there to be seen in that very visible political manifestation: the rally.

On Sunday 5^th June I was one of 10,000 people in Sydney and 45,000 in Australia who voiced their support for strong action on climate change in parks and town squares around the country. The mood at the Sydney rally was sunny and spirited. Along with all the usual suspects – including every leftie group on the map looking to capitalise from a crowd of potential signature givers – Alfred Park was full of families, dogs and picnic rugs.

Usually the deal at these kind of things is that you show up for the start time, there is a series of speeches given by various organisers/relevant politicians/sincere over-rehearsed children bound for the high school debating team and then you march somewhere. What was unexpected on that Sunday was that it was over so very quickly. Within 30 minutes most of the action was over and just 45 minutes after it began, my neighbour turned up late to find an (admittedly very good) band playing on a stage and a park ¾ empty.

The Say Yes Australia partnership which organised the day ran a tight ship, and coming from someone who simply showed up on the day, it was a finely planned demonstration. It was just that one couldn’t help shake the feeling that to some extent the rally simply existed so that a photo could be taken, heads to be counted and GetUp! Director Simon Sheik could be quoted in news outlets the next day having addressed the crowd. After that, everyone was out of there.

Thinking back on every other demonstration I’ve been able to attend, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly why this felt like a lost opportunity. What is a demonstration if not a chance to briefly congregate with sympathetic others and send a message to those in power. The bigger the better because in rallies, it’s numbers that count. Right? 

Well not exactly. I’m not nearly old enough to be nostalgic about what demonstrations used to be like back in the days of ‘Nam. But I’ve been to enough to know that attending climate rallies is not valuable simply because they make it onto the news streams delivered to every Canberran politician the next morning. Their value exists also in their capacity to breed a sense of community surrounding an issue and function as a very physical reminder that an issue belongs to individuals, not simply a small and seemingly untouchable group of decision makers.

Climate advocates invest hours and hours of their time, both paid and unpaid, into figuring out how best to empower people with a sense of their own place and role within the movement. Having a personal tie with a cause – a friend or group of people with whom to share the victories and frustrations of those convictions – can be the strongest way of building such a movement. Social networks are invaluable and on the whole, it seems to be something that the green movement does well. I’ve had countless conversations with friends who say it’s the people they work alongside with that keep them motivated in the face of the political short-sightedness we’ve witnessed recently.    

For this reason it seems like a missed opportunity that events such the Say Yes rally don’t do more to capitalise on the sheer number of people in attendance. Saturday was a great day and it certainly was a strong statement of public support for climate action.  But a demonstration consisting of just 30 minutes of speeches probably isn’t going to make sure that a first time rally attendee will show up the next time. If the movement is keen to criticise politicians for pandering to the media, it must be careful that it doesn’t use public rallies simply for that same purpose. There is far more potential value in a rally than simply what gets reported.  

It is important that organisers ensure public demonstrations make the news. However it would be disappointing to see an end to the congenial and animated culture of demonstrations simply because of the need to interact with a competitive news cycle. The movement has to think creatively about how it can involve supportive individuals who haven’t before stood up for their convictions on cutting carbon usage in Australia.  Perhaps that creativity might start with rethinking the way that larger scale public actions can contribute towards this movement.

Both are family run operations, where the farmers are clearly passionate about what they do. Lin’s Organics is run almost solely by a husband/wife team, with some help from their son and friend. The gorgeous rows of vegetables are the result of purely organic farming processes. Lin is passionate about the environment, and while completing some studies to help her understand the farming process, she was shocked at the amount of chemicals that were being used to grown edible produce. As she explained to us; if she wasn’t comfortable eating foods sprayed with chemicals and pesticides, why would she be comfortable selling such produce to other people…? It’s a fair question, and absolutely underlies the ethic of what is being done at Lin’s Organic.

Becoming Certified Organic is an enormous, long term, and highly expensive process. For example, It 120g of organic fertilizer costs $700 – which you can imagine for a small farm is a huge investment. The soil is tested biennially by authorities to ensure that that the produce is 100% organic – as chemical fertilisers leave traces in the soil. Ensuring producers are able to hold onto their organic certification is vital to the standard of produce that comes from this property. Complaints about the price of organic are widespread, but one must recognise the cost and time that goes into growing organic foods – it is a labour of love for many of these farmers, not a labour solely for financial gain.

Swallow Rock Organic has been in the family for 4 generations and is a lovely property set close to the Hawkesbury River, complete with enormous cliff tops (where a recent Masterchef episode was filmed and on which we were lucky enough to have a picnic at the end of the day) and some very cute little(and HUGE) free range piggies. The range of produce that comes out of Swallow Rock is broad – from free range pork to potatoes to garlic!

I was seriously impressed by the low impact, naturalist style of farming at Swallow Rock, particularly when it came to the pigs and the potatoes. It seems a happy relationship – the pigs come in to the field after the potatoes are harvested to essentially ‘clear’ the field and prep it for the next lot of produce that will go in. The potatoes are harvested and the pigs then turn the soil as they search for anything to eat that takes their fancy – this includes all the little grubs and bugs that are usually a threat to the potatoes. Not only are the pigs doing a great job at freeing the field of any unwanted bits and pieces, they also fertilise the area as well. This is then composted down, and voila, the field is again ready for use. Sure this is a simplified explanation of what I’m sure is much more full on process, but the relationship between both the live animal produce and other vegetable produce, was for me, enlightening.  Maybe it’s because I’m a born and bred city kid, but the visit to the farms was informative and engaging.

It is easy to become bogged down in the semantics of what is organic, what’s free range and what constitutes all these different definitions, but what it comes down to for me is seeing the good place that the fresh produce comes from. These people are passionate about what they do, and are all about doing it well and providing their customers with good quality produce, that still recognises the need for sustainable ways of farming that respect the environment and the consumer.

If you’re interested in signing up to FoodConnect – Sydney and getting one of their produce boxes, you can do so here. Or give them a call on (02)8094 1882.

The gorgeous property at Swallow Rock Organics

My view is that most of our education institutions need to be renewed to enable meaningful learning. We may even need to re-imagine what we think of as an education institution. The secondary and tertiary education sectors, in particular, need a fresh injection of life.

Rather than adding more theory to the academic literature, these are some reflections from my own education experiences.

My schooling

I’m very grateful for my primary and secondary education. I cherish the teachers that introduced to me to new worlds of discovery. I had some very supportive teachers who obviously loved their work. They encouraged me to wonder.

Primary school was messy. The world wasn’t divided into neatly divided subjects. Learning was playful. It got personal. I mostly enjoyed it, although the playground sometimes resembled the Lord of the Flies.

Secondary school was grey in comparison. Adolescence is awkward at the best of times, but I really disliked high school. I was shy and didn’t enjoy competitive sports, so getting good grades became important to my sense of self-worth and identity. I was a high achiever, but my good grades seldom flowed from a love of learning. My mind was a sponge and I knew how to play the system. I knew what teachers and examiners wanted. Mostly I was very bored. I seldom saw the purpose in what we were taught. My enthusiasm was almost extinguished.

University

It was only when I went to university that I started to become a self-directed learner. I also began to consider how my education could contribute to my future working life. I’m grateful that my parents supported my studies and encouraged me to follow my own interests.

I mixed a business degree (which I thought would be useful) with a humanities/social sciences degree (full of fascinating subjects). The business degree was mostly very dull. Thousands of dollars were invested in teaching me stuff that has not been useful at all.

My business degree was worth it though—because I met a teacher who ignited my passions and helped to find purpose in my learning.

That teacher’s name is Ross McDonald. He’s inspired thousands of people. It wasn’t just his smooth Scottish accent that captured our attention. It wasn’t his props either. He didn’t use Powerpoint slides. He didn’t give us hand outs. He just looked us in the eye and told us stories about people, cultures and our environment. He invited us to look at our own worldview and to learn through direct experience. This man was (and hopefully still is) bursting with life.

A man like Ross is rare in today’s tertiary education system. When I did my Masters degree at another university I really struggled with this system. I once believed that learning is the heart and essence of a university. Now I wonder what their purpose has become. Many universities have become knowledge factories. Students are consumers. Academics are caught in a game that most don’t want to play: competing against each other for funding and positions by scoring publishing points. Their social contribution is often judged by how many articles are published in journals that the public don’t have access to.

I admire all the academics I know who pour their life into this system. I hope they’re learning what they want to discover in their hearts and minds and sharing this with all. But the system that they’re part of is stale.

My de-schooling and relearning

I’m very grateful for the critical thinking abilities that I developed at university and the doorways that my degrees opened. The irony is that I’m now using my critical faculties to question the privileged place given to universities and how well they prepare people for life and work.

I’ve already written about my own experience of de-schooling (and put this into pictures). I’ve done a lot of relearning. My curiosity, creativity and passion were sucked out of me during most of my education. I needed to rediscover these master keys for self-directed learning.

My university education helped me to unpick what we take for granted in society, but it was also incomplete. Over-analysing everything sucked the life right out of me. Thinking needs to be integrated with feeling and experience. This leads to knowing, which is much more beneficial than just studying and accumulating other people’s knowledge.

Renewability in education

The kind of education that I admire involves developing our latent personal and shared potential.

Individually, education needs to ignite sparks of curiosity and feed the unique abilities that exist within us all. It needs to help us lead fulfilling lives.

Collectively, education needs to contribute to a vibrant society. It can reconnect us with one another through empathy, understanding and social/ecological mindfulness. It can empower people to resolve the social, economic and environmental challenges we are facing. It can help prepare us for a future that we can anticipate but not predict.

Putting these together, education needs (in the words of David Orr) to “draw out our affinity for life”. This affinity starts with our own experience of life and then flows into the world. As Sir Ken Robinson suggests in the 90 second clip below, we need to tap into the life energy that we’re part of:

Ken is a great educator. I’ve admired his light-hearted wisdom since I first heard him connecting the external climate crisis with the climate of crisis in our education system. He understands that we have plenty of capacity to change course whenever we want to. This applies to us personally and as a society.

Learning collaboratively

I’ve done much more learning since I left the classroom. I’ve also learned how effective and enjoyable it is to learn collaboratively. This differs from how we were taught to learn at school.

The Internet, which was still in its formative stages when I started university, has played an important role in this. I watch inspiring videos. I explore different points of view. I follow my curiosity. I’ve learned how to use social media tools by playing.

I join conversations and forums around issues that interest me. I’m part of various communities of practice. I’ve learned a lot by working with people to establish the Intersect Network. The on-line world connects me with deeper face to face conversations. I participate in workshops and meet-ups. My understanding keeps growing.

I feel like an active participant in change. This leads me to wonder: would I go to university now, in this remarkably different world, if I was just leaving school? I don’t know. I’d be very selective about what I studied and how the course was organised to encourage collaborative learning. I’d be attracted to something like the Kaos Pilots model.

Looking to the future

I also wonder what education will look like by the end of this century. The Interent is playing a major role in transforming education. I wonder what part I could play in collaborating with people to create new institutions. I’m curious about developments such as the Khan Academy, School of Everything, Trade School, Skillshare, and the School of Life. I can imagine a university I’d like to see: mixing wisdom with practical experience, without heavy infrastructure, sharing knowledge freely through collaborative platforms and engaging actively in society.

I’ll keep learning too. I’ll follow my curiosity. This leads to a fulfilling life and has a broader purpose. I understand that to renew our world we need to keep learning anew.

It’s become clearer to me how important it is to bring together two great challenges of our time:

• the shift towards renewable forms of energy and
• the full development of human potential.

We can’t have one without the other. They need to go hand in hand.

I’ve been playing with ways to communicate this. Here’s my first attempt at weaving some conversations together.

Our economies are based on energy

There’s a story that modern societies have transitioned from agricultural economies (based on farming) to industrial economies (based on production) to consumer economies (based on spending and debt) to knowledge economies (based on ideas). Most economies are based on all these elements to different degrees.But there’s something else that economies are based on that seldom gets discussed: energy.

Energy is the essence of every economic system. Energy is the field of life. It’s also creative potential.

We live on the sun’s energy

The energy that flows through us and our social/economic system comes from the sun. Its light connects us with one another and every living species.

At a personal level, we get energy through food. Let’s be grateful for plants that make sunlight edible. The energy in our food sustains and renews us. We can use this energy for diverse purposes. We all need to decide how to use this creative potential.

We can lead lives that let this energy shine. We can also live in ways that dampen us down:

Energy gets shaped by the rules we live by

Humans are social animals. We create societies and economies in relation with one another. We’ve developed many institutions (e.g. laws, regulations, organisational forms, social customs) over time that shape the rules we live by.

These structures direct the flow of energy. They can enhance or degrade our potential: the vibrant energy that seeks to flow within us all.

Life is constantly changing, but our social rules and customs tend to get rigid. They become stale, lifeless or corrupted. They fail to enhance life. They prevent us from developing our full potential. Some people also try to accumulate energy/resources at other people’s expense. This is ironic because it stops energy shining.

Social and economic structures aren’t fixed. We develop them as humans. We always have the power to adapt. If our rules and customs don’t enhance life we need to renew them.

Economies run on vibrant and stale energy

We don’t just get energy from food. Energy is everywhere. The world is pulsing with life. As Emerson wisely saw: “To the dull mind all nature is leaden. To the illuminated mind the whole world burns and sparkles with light.”

It’s easy to overlook the sun in everything. But we all can always use our imagination to re-appreciate its presence. We can look at anything around us and trace back how it came into being through the sun.

Most things around us were made with fossil fuels. We tend to think of oil, coal and gas as separate from solar energy. But they’re buried forms of sunshine. They formed from the decay of plants and animals that had sunlight flowing through them millions of years ago. Their light is simply stale.

People have benefited enormously from using fossil fuels. We’ve created powerful economies by tapping into trapped energy. But stale energy pollutes our planet. It damages our land, our water, our food chain, our atmosphere and ourselves. The Earth can’t keep absorbing these harmful effects. If we keep burning fossil fuels we’ll keep depleting life. Our economies will also collapse.

This is a familiar story, so I’ll cut to the point: we can make the move to fresh vibrant energy, or we can stay stuck on the stale energy that’s now harming us.

We have a design challenge

Here’s where it all comes together:

If we want to improve our society and economy for the benefit of life, we need to base everything on vibrant energy. This applies to us personally (i.e. the creative potential in every human being) as much as it applies to how we fulfill our needs and wants with the abundant energy around us. We’ll never thrive if we keep trying to live off stale (life-depleting) energy.

We can redesign our economies to run entirely on renewable energy. Every hour, the Earth receives enough solar energy to power the world for almost a year. A United Nations-backed report released this week highlighted that “Renewable energy sources such as solar power, wind, biomass and hydropower could meet nearly 80 per cent of the world’s energy supplies by 2050 if governments pursue policies that harness their potential.” The world is full of potential. But we’re too easily convinced that we can’t survive without fossil fuels.

We need to realise that a renewable economy is just a design challenge. It will be created through our wisdom, perseverance and ingenuity.

We need to develop new technologies for accessing solar energy. But technology is only part of the story. We need to (re)design our cities to support vibrant communities. We need to renew our education systems and workplaces so they don’t waste so much creative potential. We need to renew stale institutions and replace rigid structures (which will inevitably collapse) with more flexible alternatives.

All of us have the potential to create a world that thrives with vibrant energy. All we need to do is develop our unique role and gifts. We’ll thrive more strongly if we support everyone to do the same.

We shine most brightly when we have a sense of purpose and connection. So for anyone looking for direction: creating a vibrant society that’s based on renewable energy is a mighty purpose for anyone to contribute to.

There’s many more connections to make here. I’ll write more on this in the future. In the meantime I’ll keep imagining a solar economy, or “solarconomy”: a society and economy with soul that’s based on the flow of vibrant energy.

This post was also published on Nick’s blog at Re-Be.

But now I’ve moved on. There’s a new word in my life. It’s becoming an open affair.

I’m sure you’ve seen this word around. I’ve mentioned it before. It’s renewability.

Some people will wonder why I’ve ditched sustainability for renewability. After all renewability was on the scene long before sustainability started parading around. So I’ve decided to explain the attraction. Read this at your peril though: you might also be tempted by this word’s powers of seduction.

Undressing renewability

A family’s reputation doesn’t normally concern me, but it’s good to know that renewability has honorable roots. Its parents are renew and ability.

To “renew” means to give fresh energy, life or strength to something. It can also mean to re-establish (e.g in relationship) or to extend the duration of something.

An ability is the capacity to do something. It refers to our power, skills, means, knowledge, networks and talents.

Putting this together, renewability involves having the capacity to bring fresh energy and life to what we are doing and creating on an ongoing basis. It also has some environmental qualities (discussed below).

Making some comparisons

It’s bad form to compare old lovers, but I know someone will ask: what’s renewability like compared to sustainability? Here are some differences:

Renewability has rhythm. It goes with the flow. Sustainability often gets rigid with resisting change and maintaining the status quo.

If sustainability was female it would be a material girl. Why? Because it draws my attention to the physical world and the things I’d like to sustain. It does this beautifully. Renewability is more subtle. It leads me to imagine the flow of energy and how this maintains our material reality. I also wonder how something old or neglected can be renewed into something desirable again.

Sustainability can be a slippery character. It doesn’t like to be defined. Some people find this quality attractive because we need to discern its meaning for ourselves. Its ambiguity can also be frustrating. People often think they’re having the same conversation about sustainability while trying to sustain different things. This doesn’t inspire trust.

Most importantly, I feel more warmth towards renewability. It’s positive by nature. Ask yourself this question: would you rather sustain the world in its current form, or renew it? What sounds more inspiring?

Renewability isn’t just a greenie

Some people might dismiss renewability as a bit of a greenie. It’s often associated with renewable energy and things that grow and flow as sunlight passes through them.

I’m attracted to these environmental associations. Not everyone will find this so alluring. Can you imagine coal or oil companies getting into bed with renewability? I’m not concerned by this. I’m glad that renewability is discerning. Anyone who supports a rapid transition away from fossil fuels can embrace renewability in its entirety.

Renewability is pro-environment but it’s also very social. It invites us to bring more vibrant life and energy to whatever we are doing. If we really want to improve our well-being we need to renew our communities. We need to renew our education system. We need to renew our workplaces and how we organise and govern.

Wise business leaders can embrace renewability too. Businesses need to constantly renew themselves with fresh energy, ideas and enthusiasm. Social, economic and environmental pressures are building. Fossil fuel prices are unstable and rising. Renewability is going to be increasingly cherished this century.

Renewability welcomes many lovers

That’s a few reasons why renewability is hot. It’s not the sexiest word on the street but it’s got lots of spirit. It stays forever young.

Renewability also has an elusive allure. It’s slightly unobtainable right now. We’re a long way from having a fully renewable society and economy. That’s why it’s so important. We need to renew our abilities and institutions. We need to design an economy based on renewable energy and materials. We also need to re-establish our relationships with one another and our environment.

If you loved sustainability (and maybe you still do) here’s the good news: there’s nothing preventing you from forming a closer relationship with renewability too. It can take your existing relationship to greater depths.

Now tell me: what words are you attracted to?

Australian cities often makes lists of ‘most liveable’ and most naturally beautiful cities in the world. However, when it came to walkability, we didn’t make the cut, and I’m not the tiniest bit surprised.

I have recently returned home to Sydney after two years in the UK, and the first things that struck me about Sydney were:

- the sheer number of large roads and freeways

- the congestion in Sydney and associated pollution and travelling times (even on public transport or a bike)

- the waiting times for pedestrians at traffic lights

- the frequent feeling that you’re walking down the side of a freeway. Even on a walkway that is heavily trafficked by pedestrians, you feel like the place is meant for cars, and you’re not meant to be there.

I remember feeling this when I visited Canberra a number of years ago. A city obviously designed when cars were the the future, it’s a minefield as a pedestrian tourist.  Everything is so spaced out that, in a one or two day visit, it’s almost impossible to see much unless you’re using a car (or have a chauffeur as I assume alot of important visitors to Canberra do).  When visiting the War Memorial I was told that buses back to the city only ran once every two hours on a Sunday.

And there was a pervasive sense that pedestrians were the aliens in spaces that were built for vehicles.

Compare this to cities in Europe where whole districts have single-lane roads or no roads at all for vehicles, instead dedicated bike lanes and walking paths. Providing beautiful spaces to walk and enjoy a city are obvious priorities for some planners, and the pay-offs are enormous.

I really do dream of a Sydney where the only sound you could hear was a whizz of spokes or the clop of heels, rather than the constant drone of 4 lanes of traffic. I know not everyone is going to be an advocate for tearing down all the freeways in Sydney to put in bike lanes, despite the strong economic arguments for doing so, but everyone uses their feet and it is true that a great walking city makes for a really great city.

So what’s being done about this?

At a recent ‘City Talks’ evening discussing the Walsh Bay precinct there was  a strong feeling that transport was letting this area (and the whole of Sydney) down. There was a even a feeling that roads that cut through pedestrian passsageways had created a practical and psychological barrier between Walsh Bay and the rest of the city. The number of jibes about public transport directed at Clover Moore became a joke by the end of the night.

The study of ‘Walkonomics‘ has been delved into in great deal in the UK. There are so many benefits to improving walkability. It helps against social isolation, obesity and health problems, economics and tourism, and is simply about making places more beautiful, usable and human-friendly.

Clover Moore enlisted urban expert Jan Gehl to improve Sydney’s reputation on this front. His recommendations have been worked into the City of Sydney’s plans to make Sydney ‘green, global, connected’ by 2020.

The guidelines for Sydney 2030 are great, but I can’t help but feel that there’s a parallel and contradictory drive which is seeing ever bigger roads going up all around us in Sydney. There are extreme levels of hostility towards cyclists, and I often don’t always feel safe, or more importantly happy and comfortable, as a pedestrian in the city.

The city must plan not just for the and any future, but  for a desirable future that steps forward. It currently feels like there is an unchecked drive into an old-fashioned, car-crazy place.