We seem to have become increasingly isolated over the past decade, stuck to our phone screens, or at home watching Netflix, just to get away from the mess our world seems to have turned into. The irony of course is that what we see on social media, in our news and through popular culture only reinforces the negativity we try to escape from. It seems we are stuck in a negativity loop.

How do we get out of this loop? As an introvert, my natural inclination is to escape further, either by cocooning myself at home and avoiding the world ‘out there’, or occasionally by going on a retreat where the real world can’t penetrate, at least for a few days. I have tried both, and while they can offer some temporary solace, relieving the symptoms, they do not offer a lasting cure.

Recently I have been asking myself whether there is another, more positive way. Is it possible, to meaningfully interact with the world without being sucked into the negative narrative?

Let’s start with what doesn’t work, at least for me. Scrolling through social media and excessive news consumption only reinforces my inherent negativity bias, fed by algorithms and the ‘if it bleeds it leads’ approach to news coverage.

As I have written before, sometimes just consciously pausing our consumption of online content gives our brain a break and allows the murkiness to subside. And while it helps to regain control of our thoughts, it is just another form of escape.

Co-creating the right story

Over the last few days, triggered by articles and books I have been reading, an approach has been percolating that centres around the lost art of conversation. By conversation I don’t mean WhatsApp chats, but the ability to look each other in the eye and share our thoughts and feelings. To reconnect with our fellow human beings and see where that might take us.

I stared wondering about the role of conversation in today’s world while reading Tyson Yunkaporta’s latest book Right Story, Wrong Story: Adventures in Indigenous Thinking. It’s a delightful yarn about the importance of stories and their creation, as it is not just the stories that matter, it is how they come about, how they are co-created. In Yunkaporta’s Aborigine tradition, stories don’t arise out of a vacuum, they are woven together by numerous people, out of past and present conversations based on disparate events that occur across time and place. But they cannot exist without others. “Consider the possibility that you’re nothing without your relations. All your kin-human, non-human, plant, animal, place, blood, water—all these familial links contain your thinking and character, the things you have always imagined to be occurring inside your fabulous individual mind. Ponder the notion that there is almost nothing you can learn about ants by examining a single specimen in a petri dish”, writes Yunkaporta.

I reflected on this in the context of my research for Changing Stories, Finding Hope and how the societal narratives, or stories, that I challenge in my research, have their origins in a much more limited perspective: white, Western and male.

Yunkaporta invites ‘us-all’ - the hyphen emphasising our connection – to bring our stories round the fire and see what might arise, “even if you’re a toxic, bad-faith, murderous, gaslighting piece of shit, you are needed and you are loved”.

What might happen if we did come together, with bringing our beliefs, prejudices, passions, fears and our stories round the communal fire? This is the question that two organisations I came across this week are trying to answer.

The Long Table is social enterprise created in 2018 by baker and entrepreneur Tom Herbert under the motto ‘Build longer tables, not higher walls’. It seeks to answer the question ‘what if everyone in our community had access to great food and people to eat it with?’

The concept is simple: Bring people together over a locally-sourced hot meal, accessible to all through a Pay-As-You-Can model, cooked by chefs and their apprentices. You show up, sit where you can, start eating and talking. Nothing more, nothing less.

The benefits of this radical hospitality are numerous, as the scheme supports local farmers, creates jobs and apprenticeships and explicitly tackles food poverty and isolation. As one customer said, “at the Long Table the shame [of homelessness] is taken away and customers are met with complete compassion”. The Long Table which currently operates in the Southwest of England has succeeded in bringing tens of thousands from different backgrounds physically together through the simple act of sharing a meal.

Closer to home, the Highland Circle tries to go one step further by actively bringing people with opposing views together, inviting Inverness residents to a meal and ‘a different kind of conversation’ on topics such as immigration. There are fifteen places for each event: five for those who are for a particular position, five who are against it and five who are undecided. Over the course of a shared meal, participants discuss their position, concerns and listen to other perspectives.

I think these types of gatherings are critical for two reasons. First, they address the growing isolation that has become a by-product of our addiction to screens. Second, they enable us to talk about our hopes and fears face-to-face, with our shared humanity providing the foundation for a new, more constructive conversation. It is through these conversations that we can understand that disagreeing is part of the human experience. Knowing this won’t solve all problems. We may still disagree, but at least we are more likely to understand and respect each other.

Mutual respect is the first step towards tackling the destructive polarisation of our society. Our disagreements do not define us. In spite of them, we are all needed and loved.

This week’s photo is of Nairn Town Hall. We were in town to hear fabulous stories from Marc Marnie’s rich career as a music photographer, accompanied by the ever-smiling Martin Stephenson on guitar. A treat!

The other highlight was watching Billy Bragg perform. His lifelong passion for social change and empathy for humankind is truly empowering, as is his willingness to evolve with our times. A worthy heir to Woody Guthrie, whose song All You Fascists Bound to Lose he covered with gusto.

On the drive back from Devon to the Highlands, Maia and I listened to a fascinating BBC podcast series called ‘What happened to counter-culture?’ presented by Stewart Lee. In the 5-part series, Lee reviews the importance of the counter-culture over the years, starting with Kerouac, Ginsberg and the Beats in the 50s, all the way to punk rock and reggae in the 70s. While these movements gave a voice – and a home - to the alternative and the disenfranchised, they did much more than that. Through arts, culture and politics they helped the mainstream evolve, by widening the boundaries of what was acceptable, what was possible.

Yet Lee’s conclusion, implicit in the series’ title is that we haven’t had a counter-culture in the 21^st century, suggesting that the counter-culture was a victim of its own success as most of the changes it was fighting for - such as women’s emancipation and individual freedoms – have been realised. Perhaps the counter-culture no longer serves a purpose?

Fascinating though the series is – I strongly recommend giving it a listen if you can – I disagree with its conclusions. Here’s why.

Anyone with a passing interest in world affairs can see that freedoms we have fought to establish for decades, even centuries, are far from universal. In fact, while there has been a growing respect – in law and society - for civil rights since the 1950s, the last decade has seen a degrading of fundamental rights:

• The rights of workers are being threatened by the growth of the gig economy, zero-hours contracts and the reduction of the right to unionise.

• There are still over 50 million slaves in the world today, including in the UK.

• We still live in a world dominated by men, whether in business, politics or culture, while full gender equality – of opportunity and pay – is being redressed far too slowly.

• Gay rights remain under threat, with homosexuality illegal in 66 countries and LGBTQ+ rights being undermined in many more, including the US under President Trump. Meanwhile, the UK’s Supreme Court has ruled that ‘sex’ refers to a person’s sex assigned at birth, diminishing the rights of our trans siblings.

I could go on, but I think I have made my point. The fight for fundamental human rights and freedoms must continue. The danger is that we have lulled ourselves into a false sense of security, thinking things are improving and will continue to do so. This is not a given.

Why does the counter-culture matter? Simply put, if we want our societies to grow and evolve, we need diversity of thought. We need people to stand up and reject the status quo, because it doesn’t represent them or what they believe in. It is by proposing, discussing and testing new ideas that we can become better versions of ourselves. This diversity of thought is often both the cause and the result of people creating a new cultural narrative, a new story, that challenges the way things are. The willingness, even courage, to tell this new story will never come from the mainstream.

In the 21^st century these new stories might reject economic growth, consumerism or the dominance of technology in our lives. They might embrace the gifts that different cultures and ethnicities offer humanity or praise the symbiotic relationship we can have with our natural environment.

We’re not there yet

The good news is that our culture already has many wonderful creative minds telling these new stories. The bad news is that they remain on the fringes.

We need more artists, singers, writers and playwrights to flood our cultural spaces with their art and draw society towards alternative narratives, but as Stewart Lee highlighted in his podcast series, any semblance of a counter-culture has been hard to find this century. My sense is that this gap is due to a combination of fear and despair. Let’s take these in turn.

Fear: Stepping out of the mainstream is scary. A particular way of life is constantly sold to us, one that involves a stable income, a home and access to a range of consumer goods that will make us ‘happy’. Going against this mainstream narrative is challenging, because it moves us away from that ‘perfect’ way of life. This is even worse today than it was in the late 20^th century because the welfare system that supported those who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, operate within that mainstream, has all but disintegrated. As I have written about before, I see this regularly with the artists and musicians Maia and I work with in the Highlands who find it almost impossible to make ends meet, and are forced to give up. The world, and our public debate, are poorer because of it.

Despair: This one is close to my heart. I have worked for over 25 years in the hope that in some small way my contribution made a difference and helped create a more sustainable world. For most of that time, I felt that while things weren’t moving fast enough, at least they were moving in the right direction. These days, I’m not so sure. The rise of populism fuelling increased polarisation, the decline of trust and the constant assault on our planet make me wonder if I have wasted my time.

Should I just have followed my Uni and MBA friends into corporate law or investment banking and enjoy the many rich – if unsatisfying - pickings of those professions? Or should I have followed my relatives who joined a commune and lived a blissful spiritual life, utterly oblivious to the real challenges the world is facing.

I didn’t do either, and don’t think I could have, however tempting. Once you see the suffering of people and planet, you can’t unsee it. But the despair at the lack of progress is real, hard to face, and can easily lead to apathy. Thankfully, I am able to find pockets of hope amidst this despair, which led to Changing Stories, Finding Hope, the book I am researching and which inspires this Substack. Hopefully something good will come from it. If not, at least I tried.

There is power in union

Standing in that field in Devon, singing Billy Bragg’s ‘There is Power in the Union’ with thousands of strangers united by the same belief, I was reminded that ‘all’ it takes for movements to happen is for enough people to believe in them. In fact, twenty-five percent of a population is enough to make large scale social change happen, according to research by Penn University. But those 25% don’t come together in isolation, they come together because they have shared interests, passions and values that unite them. Like the thousands singing along with Billy Bragg and leaving the gig with a real sense of possibility and hope for the future. Or the hundred inhabitants of Ullapool who gathered this week in the Ferry Terminal to view a screening of the National Emergency Briefing. During the ensuing discussion, a sense of community started to emerge between these disparate individuals keen to do something together to raise the visibility of the climate crisis in their community, region and political debate.

Perhaps the counter-culture we need is just around the corner, in the people coming together united by a shared passion, shaping a new narrative and turning it into an irreversible movement. That gives me hope.

This week’s photo is from a Greenfinch about to set off and challenge the status quo.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read - or listen to - my introductory Substack.

According to the Journal Nature, 210,000 more people have died from heat-related causes each year from 2012-2021 compared to 1990-1999. Just under 3,000 people have died in England as a result of the May and June heatwaves. That is before the worse July heatwave was factored in. We are so used to having numbers thrown at us that it is quite easy to gloss over these, but each of these is a child, parent or grandparent who is no longer with us because of the extreme heat.

We also know what caused this: rampant climate change caused by human activity, in particular CO₂ and methane emissions. Until recently we could have thought that climate change was a distant prospect which we may need to do something about one day, once we’ve addressed other, ‘more urgent’ priorities.

The evidence is undeniable: That day is here. The planet is warming to increasingly extreme levels, people are dying as a result, entire ecosystems are being destroyed by wildfires – including ‘wet’ Scotland - while much of Western Europe is in drought, resulting in water shortages, crop failures and food insecurity.

Which brings me to the most recent reason for my despair: The news that the eight largest oil companies (Aramco, BP, Shell, Equinor, TotalEnergies, Eni, Chevron and ExxonMobil) have made over $90Bn in profits as a result of the Iran War and the closure of the Straight of Hormuz. That is more than $700,000 per minute between March and June.

I guess that if you are an executive or a shareholder of one of these companies that is wonderful news, but to me the whole thing seems outlandish. We have created a system whereby a group of companies can reap extraordinary financial rewards from wars - that are caused by our dependency on their product - while also being responsible for significant environmental and public health damage, not to mention a cost-of-living crisis. How did we arrive at such a ridiculous, dangerous and perverse system?

Who’s to blame?

I don’t blame the executives who lead these organisations. If their actions are measured by how these actions contribute to shareholder value, their focus will be on that single indicator, and they will become blind to other considerations. Furthermore, in my numerous interactions with them over the years, I have often noticed that people who work for oil companies also take great pride in their product, which has helped humankind progress in many ways over the past century. This pride makes them less open to alternatives. But that was before we really understood the inherent risks, and before the advent of credible and cost-effective alternatives.

I don’t blame the governments for failing to act, as they are trapped in a flawed narrative, believing that growing the economy is their primary responsibility, making them biased in favour of those who they believe can deliver this growth: corporations and financial institutions. Corporate money buys access to political power and the ability to unbalance the playing field in favour of corporations’ never-ending pursuit of shareholder value.

Governments are not helped by an electoral cycle that rewards short-term firefighting over structural change. This leads to the Kafkaesque logic which argues that the UK should reopen exploration of North Sea oil and gas fields at Rosebank and Jackdaw to guarantee energy security and affordability. All the fossil fuels in the North Sea will achieve neither, as prices are set globally and have nothing to do with local supply, while genuine energy security can, by definition, only be delivered by renewable resources, not finite ones.

Nor do I blame the users of energy – businesses and private consumers - who continue to purchase fossil fuels. Their hands are often tied by financial considerations, such as access to the upfront capital required to transition to renewables, while they are also misinformed by the media and the corporate PR machine.

Each of the above may be responsible for perpetuating this perverse system, but they are not to blame because they are all acting in a logical way within that system, and the flawed narratives that support it. In other words, they are doing the wrong things for what they believe to be the right reasons.

I could blame those who created the system, the neoliberal economists such as Hayek and Friedman who developed the theory, or the politicians, led by Reagan and Thatcher, who translated this theory into policy in the 1980s, normalising an extreme economic theory. This resulted in an open attack on the fabric of society through deregulation, tax cuts for larger business and the ultra-rich, the privatisation of public services and the resulting cuts in public spend. I could blame them, but they are all dead, so why bother?

What can be done?

So, let’s forget blame and instead focus on what can be done, which requires looking at the immediate issue of war profiteering as well as the underlying narratives that have made this possible, and will continue to do so if we don’t address them.

First, how do prevent oil companies from profiting from war?

One approach that you will have heard a lot about recently is to tax oil companies’ excess profits, also known as a windfall tax. An example of this is the UK’s 2024 Energy Profits Levy which sought to tax companies benefiting financially from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. This is a useful tool, but politically complex for the reasons I outlined above, so should be embedded in long-term policy rather than require a political decision in each instance.

While this is a short-term solution, it does not provide long-term relief as long as our economies remain addicted to fossil fuels. How these additional tax receipts are spent therefore matters as much as collecting them. Specifically, the revenues should not be used to plug short-term funding gaps, but directed towards building a renewable, low-carbon energy infrastructure which increases energy independence and reduces our dependency on fossil fuels. This should include:

• Growing renewable electricity production and storage, both locally (residential and industrial production) and across the national grid.

• Enhancing the provision – and reducing the cost - of low-carbon transport: public transport, cycling and affordable electric cars

• Building greater resilience to the changing climate, for instance through insulation and flood protection

• Outside of energy use, we also need to reduce our dependency on petrochemicals used in the plastics and fertiliser industries by promoting alternative materials, strengthening a circular economy and supporting regenerative agriculture.

Done well, these measures will help create a safer world, but if we want to create a better world, we also need to address the underlying belief system that normalised such a perverse system. Specifically, we need to actively question our obsession with economic growth and its indicator, GDP (Gross Domestic Product). As I have written in a previous piece, GDP neither measures what matters to people and planet, nor is it physically compatible with our finite system, the Earth. Instead, we need to measure and deliver what really matters: Wellbeing within planetary boundaries. Both wellbeing and planetary boundaries can be measured. As governments ask themselves what will replace the deteriorating post WW2 world order, perhaps now is the perfect time for a radical rethink?

I remain hopeful.

I will be away next week enjoying some time roaming around the UK and performing with the Magnificent Kevens at Beautiful Days festival. To say I’m looking forward to it is an understatement…

This week’s photo was taken by Maia during a recent trip to the Coigach Peninsula.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read - or listen to - my introductory Substack.

We have just returned from Belladrum Festival near Inverness. Also known as the Tartan Heart Festival, it wears its name well. Lots of tartan and oodles of heart and love. Love for music, love for Scotland and love for the whole, 20,000 strong festival community.

It was also a bit of milestone for us as Maia launched her new EP, Little Triumphs, and for the first time I was performing with two bands, The Magnificent Kevens (aka The Kevs) and blues inspired Sidewinder. It was exhilarating. For me, no experience comes close to live music. Total strangers coming together united by the love of music, the rhythm taking over their bodies and the lyrics touching their souls. It’s special enough to experience this in the audience, but the opportunity to bring the joy of music to others is one of my life’s greatest privileges.

This year was particularly special as all our children were there. They are all adults, living their lives across the country and yet there they were, having a blast, the Kevs’ number one fans (aka Kevheads) and offering us musical advice throughout the weekend. Generations coming together in the most wonderful way.

Both the Kevs and Sidewinder are great examples of how music brings people together. When the Magnificent Kevens first formed, we were just a bunch of mates from the Sussex town of Lewes who loved music and started jamming together. This led to busking, local festivals and eventually Belladrum and Glastonbury. How this happened I am not entirely sure. We’re just a bunch of middle-aged blokes covering pop, rock, punk and techno tunes dressed like the faded legends we never were. It really shouldn’t work, but somehow it does. Part of the secret is our inability to take ourselves seriously. The other part is our friendship. These five men have been my best friends and partners in crime for almost a decade now and I am forever grateful to have found them.

Through Hilltop Live, our music promotion non-profit, Maia and I have been welcomed in the Inverness musical family. This led to new friendships and the formation of Sidewinder. Three new friends, wonderful individuals with far more musical talent than I could dream to possess. I hope we’ll still be at it in 10 years’ time. After all, John Lee Hooker and BB King were still playing the blues in their 80s, so who knows?

Anyway, I am getting carried away... Over the summer I am taking a break from writing the book, which has given the space to reflect, and Belladrum has inspired me to think about what makes music festivals so special. Having been to a few, I am always struck by the deep humanity and connection at festivals. Glastonbury, one of the world’s most iconic festivals is a good example: Why does it work? In many ways it shouldn’t: You create a temporary city of over 200,000 people from different backgrounds, provide an invitation to let go, throw in lots of alcohol and the result should be mayhem.

And yet none of the festivals I have ever attended turn into mayhem. Something happens that temporarily changes people. It’s partly the magical power of music, but it’s also something else. They let go of something as they arrive, and approach the festival with a different mindset to the one they might have in their daily lives. For a few days, influenced by the values of this unique temporary community they find themselves in, their narrative has shifted.

Festivals are a microcosm of our society, one that embraces a narrative that is at odds with where modern society is going. In a world where division, competition, money, technology, and environmental degradation are the norm, festivals buck the trend.

Festivals raise awareness of important societal issues, donates millions of pounds to charities each year, are run and facilitated by people who are motivated by service rather than money, minimise their environmental footprint, are inclusive and prioritise freedom of expression. And most importantly, deep trust prevails throughout. Trust in the tens of thousands of volunteers who make festivals possible, trusts in the artists for putting on the best possible show they can and trust in the audiences to remain friendly, joyful and generous with each other.

Could this same spirit and mutual trust also exist outside the festival bubble? Could it happen all year round and across society?

I believe it can, and that is why I am writing Changing Stories, Finding Hope.

This week’s photo is from the Belladrum Grassroots tent where Rhythmnreel created a stunning fusion of traditional and electronic music.

This week I am back in Cambridge, delivering lectures for the University’s Postgraduate Certificate in Sustainable Business and getting to know a new group of talented students I will supervise. I have been working on this programme for 20 years now, and I still love it. I love meeting new students, all from very diverse professional, cultural and geographic backgrounds, but united by a passion for sustainability and for using their skills and networks to make the world a better place.

This week I will be trying a more interactive approach to the Changing Stories content I have been delivering in Cambridge since 2020. I will be asking my students to imagine how their lives, their communities and society might be different if a particular societal narrative isn’t as valid as we assume it is. For instance, what would the world look like if we collectively didn’t buy into the ‘economic growth is the best way to deliver good outcomes for society’ narrative? I’m a little nervous, which is good, but also hopeful that the new approach will resonate.

Next week will be another special week. Our children are all coming to our home in the Highlands first for a few days of hanging out together, going for local walks or swims. It is such a joy when we all come together. Maia and I are really blessed with our blended family. We will then all head out to Belladrum ‘The Tartan Heart’ Festival where I will be playing with The Magnificent Kevens and my other musical project, Sidewinder. Maia will also be performing and launching her new EP, Little Triumphs. I have been listening to it on repeat. Perhaps I’m biased but I think it is a stunning piece of melancholy songwriting, elevated by Maia’s gorgeous voice and harmonies. You can listen to her first track, Starting Over Again on all the usual platforms, and pre-order the EP on her website.

I’ll be back in early August, but until then, I thought I’d share some of the best things I have been reading and listening to in 2026. These individuals have grown my knowledge, helped my research, and in some cases shifted by thinking.

Books

The Care Economy by Tim Jackson

Tim is a mentor of mine and one of our generation’s most astute environmental economists, who doesn’t shy away from tackling big topics. But he is also a playwright, having written numerous radio plays over the course of his life.

In The Care Economy he brings together both skills to deliver a compelling vision for our economy, one of care: Care for self, care for people and care for planet. Simple, inspiring and realistic.

How to Fall in Love with the Future by Rob Hopkins

I have had the pleasure of working with Rob when I was involved in Transition Towns Lewes. He understands the challenges of the world deeply, but won’t allow negativity to bring him down.

In his latest book, he is a time traveller who returns from the future to give us the good news that we managed the transition towards a safe and just planet. It might sound idealistic, but there is a twist, because what we did to achieve we already have within our power. The book is filled with real case studies which show change is possible, it just needs to be scaled up.

Substack

The Great Simplification by Nate Hagens

Nate worked in Wall Street and it was the expertise he acquired working in finance that drew him towards a very clear insight: If we carry on this way, we are heading very fast towards dramatic outcomes for people and planet. To avoid this, we need to make a shift towards what he calls the ‘Great Simplification’. He summarises his perspective in this short film. On his Substack and Podcast, he interviews experts in related fields and shares his own thoughts. I always discover a new insight and perspective when I read or listen to Nate’s work.

Degrowth is the Answer by Matt Orsagh

If you have read my Substack articles, you will know that I am growth agnostic and don’t believe degrowth necessarily is the answer. But I agree with a lot of what Matt Orsagh writes in his Substack. He tackles a range of topics that underlie our current predicament and offers brilliant insights that help us move away from some of our underlying assumptions and narratives.

Podcasts

Plain English with Derek Thompson

Atlantic staff writer and co-author of Abundance, Derek Thompson tackles the big questions we are facing in Plain English in, well, plain English. No topic is too challenging and the guests are real experts who have helped shape my understanding of many of today’s most relevant areas. From AI to the Middle East wars, from healthcare to culture wars and beyond, everything gets tackled with real expertise.

Strangers on a Bench by Tom Rosenthal

My last recommendation is a gift. It was when Maia first introduced me to Strangers on a Bench, and it is my go-to when I need to feel connected to the human race. Singer-songwriter Tom Rosenthal approaches people sitting on park benches and asks if they’d be happy to have a quick chat. His gentle and empathetic style results in many beautiful conversations with a wide range of fascinating ‘normal’ people that makes us realise we have so much more in common than that which divides us. Each episode ends with a different singer-songwriter summarising the conversation in a 3-minute song.

An absolute gem.

I’ll be back in a couple of weeks and until then, I hope you enjoy my recommendations.

This week’s photo is from a recent Campervan trip Maia and I took to Achmelvich Beach in the North west Highlands.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read - or listen to - my introductory Substack.

On the 25^th of March 2026, Scotland became the first country to pass a Community Wealth Building (CWB) act aimed at reducing economic and wealth inequality. The act will require Scottish Councils to create plans to implement activity which broadly tracks across the 5 pillars of CWB, which I describe below, within their communities. It is a landmark act that will give more agency to communities and strengthen local economies in the process.

If you are a regular reader to Changing Stories, you’ll know that I am pretty critical of our singular focus on economic growth. In a nutshell, I don’t believe we should measure the success of our societies and our economies through their ability to deliver growth. Our focus should be on wellbeing within planetary boundaries, whether or not that requires GDP growth.

However, critiquing the growth paradigm and calling for its replacement is one thing. Offering a credible alternative is a much greater challenge. The Global Justice Report I wrote about recently provides a comprehensive and credible framework, but one that remains very high level. What is missing from the story are practical, implementable approaches we can deliver right now.

From Transition to Community Wealth Building

Back in the noughties I became involved in the Transition Towns movement, which aimed to address the challenges of climate change and energy dependence through local community action. By giving communities agency, and empowering people to take action on local issues, including food production, transport and energy provision, things started happening that previously were seen to be the remit of politicians. In the town of Lewes where I lived at the time, we created an energy service company, facilitated access to local food producers and even launched a local currency, the Lewes Pound, which promoted local trade and ran from 2008 to 2025.

The Transition Towns movement, co-created by Rob Hopkins, one of the most inspiring change-makers I have had the pleasure to work with, is approaching its 20^th anniversary with close to 1000 transition groups still active globally.

Community Wealth Building has taken on some of the characteristics of the Transition Movement, by highlighting the importance of community action to deliver tangible change at the grassroots level, with one important difference: the active engagement of the public sector. Where Transition Towns relied largely on volunteers, CWB is enabled by anchor institutions. These may be councils, the NHS or other large organisations with a big footprint (economic, social or physical) in their communities. By forming partnerships, these organisations can channel activity which supports local places and people.

Let’s get concrete: What exactly is Community Wealth Building? To find out, I recently spoke to Naomi Mason who is Head of Scotland for CLES (Centre for Local Economies) the think-tank behind the development of CWB in the UK.

She explains to me that the goal of CWB is to change who owns wealth, who benefits from growth, and to understand where money flows. Specifically, it seeks to ensure that more wealth is channelled into communities rather than leaking out of those communities into the pockets of distant multinational companies and their shareholders. It seeks to do this by focusing on five pillars, which CLES has summarised below:

• Progressive procurement: Use public spending to support local suppliers, small and medium businesses, co-operatives and social enterprises where possible.

• Plural ownership: Grow co-operatives, municipal enterprises, community businesses and social enterprises alongside private firms.

• Fair employment: Promote Real Living Wage, secure work, progression opportunities and good labour standards.

• Land and assets for community benefit: Use land, property and regeneration powers to create long-term local value.

• Local finance and investments: Use pensions, lending, grants and investment tools to support local priorities.

At its core lie partnerships with key institutions that are rooted in their places. These institutions may be the largest local employers, procure lots of goods and services or have a large physical asset footprint. They may be instrumental in delivering local services, such as healthcare, transport, enterprise and skills development, which can ensure that action is coordinated across the delivery partners.

While its origins lie in Cleveland, Ohio, the most concrete example of CWB and its benefits is the English town of Preston, where CWB has resulted in £70 million of anchor institution spend returned to the community and 4,500 jobs created. A paper published in The Lancet found that these changes also led to an increase in average wages, a reduction in depression, and improved life satisfaction. The town that was once known as one of the most deprived urban areas in England was named most improved city in 2018 and 2019 and the “Best Place To Live” in the north of England.

What has made this possible? Talking to Naomi about a variety of CWB examples, five things stand out:

1. The clear focus on local wealth generation and distribution. For instance, it doesn’t try to fix climate change, but understands that healthier local economies can fix a number of ills, as the Preston example shows.

2. Giving communities agency, a belief that they have their future in their own hands. In Naomi’s words, “If places believe they can have impact, they will have impact”.

3. Community wealth is a broad church which crosses partisan lines. Progressives like the focus on equality, while conservatives are keen to support local business. In a time of heightened polarisation, this is much needed.

4. Putting partnerships at the core of delivery to ensure that joined up action adds the most value to the local community.

5. In these times of financial constraints, no additional budget is required to deliver CWB. Instead, the emphasis is on taking a different approach to achieve a shared goal.

Ultimately, it is a real, tangible and practical approach. In Naomi’s words, “Community Wealth Building is a practical solution that has proven its worth. That creates hope, and with hope, anything is possible.”

CWB can become one of the ways through which we can move beyond our singular focus on GDP growth towards achieving wellbeing within planetary boundaries. As you can probably tell, I am pretty excited about the important step the Scottish Parliament has taken and will keep a keen eye on how my adopted homeland uses this as a platform to achieve meaningful change across many local communities.

In doing so, I hope it can deliver economy-wide change, one community at a time.

Click here for a handy short guide on CWB.

This week’s photo is from a wonderful sight we were treated to: a mother woodpecker teaching her offspring to feed.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read - or listen to - my introductory Substack.

What is enough?

‘Earth provides enough to satisfy every man’s need, but not for every man’s greed’ is a saying often attributed to Gandhi. Whether or not he said it, I think it captures the essence of sufficiency, which boils down to a simple question: What is enough?

Regular readers will know that I rate the work of Chilean economist Manfred Max-Neef, who offered a very helpful assessment of our fundamental human needs in his 1986 book Human-Scale Development. He identifies 9 different categories of needs and 4 ways in which these needs influence our lives, as outlined in the table below.

Going through this exhaustive table makes it clear to me that not one of these identified needs requires excessive consumption, or wealth. Of course, it might be possible to have more exotic holidays with greater wealth; it might be that our self-esteem is enhanced by the number of social media followers we have, but do either of these make us fundamentally happier, or are they an expensive proxy for the underlying need? In other words, the way we meet our needs matters.

How do we meet our needs?

So, now that we have defined our fundamental needs, effectively defined ‘enough’, we can start thinking about how we go about meeting these needs. Max-Neef talks about satisfiers, those things which satisfy our needs. As I wrote about previously, there are 5 types of satisfiers:

• Destructive satisfiers: They supposedly satisfy one need, but impair the satisfaction of other needs. Example: Smoking can help us pause and satisfy our need for leisure, but ultimately undermines our survival need.

• Pseudo-satisfiers: They seem to satisfy a need, but the outcome is either false or short-lived. Example: ‘Fast’ purchases, such as fast fashion, give us a temporary sense of identity which is very quickly erased.

• Inhibiting satisfiers: By satisfying one need, they impair the possibility of satisfying other needs. Example: Our consumption of social media might provide us with a bit of leisure, but undermine our sense of identity, participation and affection.

• Singular satisfiers: They satisfy one need, but have no impact on other needs. Example: Buying staple foods for personal consumption (as opposed to sharing with others) meets our need for subsistence, but no other.

• Synergic satisfiers: They satisfy one need and contribute to the satisfaction of other needs. Example: Buying food to share with others meets our need for subsistence, leisure, identity and affection.

In Human-Scale Development Max-Neef goes further, by expressing that we need to rethink our definition of poverty, because poverty is much more than an economic concept, it is an inability to meet our fundamental needs:

The traditional concept of poverty is limited and restricted, since it refers exclusively to the predicaments of people who may be classified below a certain income threshold. This concept is strictly economistic. It is suggested here that we should speak not of poverty, but of poverties. In fact, any fundamental human need that is not adequately satisfied, reveals a human poverty. Some examples are: poverty of subsistence (due to insufficient income, food, shelter, etc.), of protection (due to bad health systems, violence, arms race, etc.), of affection (due to authoritarianism, oppression, exploitative relations with the natural environment, etc.), of understanding (due to poor quality of education), of participation (due to marginalization and discrimination of women, children and minorities), of identity (due to imposition of alien values upon local and regional cultures, forced migration, political exile, etc.).

Max-Neef’s broadening of the definition of poverty is such a compelling way to articulate how the system is failing us.

Bringing it all together

As you can tell, I’m a fan of his thinking, because Max-Neef is able to build a bridge between the human condition and the way we see our economies, in the process highlighting how our economic model is failing us because it is not geared towards meeting our fundamental needs. In the continuous quest for profit, wealth maximisation and growth, our economies promote unemployment (aka ‘efficiency improvements’), environmental destruction (aka ‘natural resource use’), debt creation (aka ‘financial opportunity’) in order to create the illusion of needs satisfaction through the consumption of stuff (physical and digital) in a way that undermines our wellbeing.

As Max-Neef reminds us, we need to remember something we seem to have forgotten in the past half-century: The purpose of the economy is to serve the people, and not the people to serve the economy.

Time to change

Which brings us back to Sufficiency. For the roadmap identified by the authors of the Global Justice Report to be achievable, we need to completely change our consumption patterns, not because we are forced to, but because we want to. Max-Neef’s work helps us understand why we might voluntarily reduce our consumption, escaping the allure of negative satisfiers.

To me, one of the strongest arguments to resist the lure of excessive consumption is the opportunity cost of this consumption, and particularly the way it takes away one of the most elusive and finite commodities in today’s world: time. The reality is that in order to buy the newest phone or flat-screen TV, the latest fashion item, fastest car or exotic holiday, we are sacrificing time. Specifically, the extra time we have to work to afford these things, is time we can’t spend with our loved ones, being creative or supporting our community. That one item we are so keen to own is much more expensive that its financial cost.

This is one of reasons why I am very drawn to the Global Justice Project’s roadmap. It offers greater equality between and within nations, it offers to keep our carbon and environmental footprint within safe limits and it offers to do this while working the equivalent of a 2.5 day work week. The main sacrifice? A willingness to accept material sufficiency, the economics of enough.

But achieving sufficiency will not be easy. Too many of our political and business leaders are hell-bent on having us consume more, either driven by the misguided belief that consumption will drive better outcomes for society, or to maximise their own wealth at the expense of others. Entire industries, from advertising to consulting and marketing exist only to convince us to buy more than that which meets our fundamental needs.

We need to understand that less is more and that enough is, well, enough. Because if we are able to meet our needs, rather than our greed, we will be happier focusing on what matters, our fellow citizens will be better off because their needs will be met and we can keep our environmental footprint within limits our beautiful planet can cope with.

This week’s photo is a close-up of a cornucopia of moss thriving on a tree in Lochcarron.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

I love football, or ‘soccer’ to our North American friends. I have done ever since I was a little boy using the wall of our house as a playing partner, playing the perfect one-two before kicking the ball into the goal that was made up of two perfectly distanced trees. At the age of seven I was taken to my first professional game, which my team at the time – Anderlecht – won 9-0 against a lacklustre and beautifully misnamed FC Boom. Robbie Rensenbrink scored three goals and become my overnight hero.

I also remember crying myself to sleep when Holland lost the 1978 World Cup final to Argentina. Being a Dutch football fan is a bittersweet experience. As a small country, we punch way above our weight, appearing in four World Cup finals (three for the men and one for the women), but have lost all. It still hurts to think about it.

When played well, football is an art form, poetry in motion with players showing the most incredible combination of skill and endurance for no other reason than the joy of the game. Football is the great leveller. All it takes is a ball and you’re good to go. It also brings people together. As a younger man I would go to a local park, find a game, ask to join and before I knew it, I was in the game, playing with local kids from all backgrounds, who I had never met before, joined together by our love for the beautiful game.

And yet, for all its beauty, football has an ugly side, which is why so many despise the game. It exhibits the worst sides of capitalism, with money-inflated egos feeling entitled to behave in the most despicable ways, both on and off the pitch, while football’s governing bodies remain all too eager to make as much money as they can at the expense of fans, even if it means cosying up to unsustainable businesses, revenue obsessed media empires and corrupt politicians. Nowhere is this more evident than at this year’s World Cup with exorbitant ticket prices, inflated travel and accommodation costs and FIFA’s President, Gianni Infantino bending over backwards to please Donald Trump, even giving him a ‘FIFA Peace Prize’ as compensation for being snubbed for the Nobel Peace Prize.

But what saddens me most about the game I love is the historical behaviour of fans. I was 16 living in Brussels when the Heysel tragedy happened in the city. Thirty-nine Italian Juventus fans were crushed to death when trying to escape an attack by the Liverpool fans. They lost their lives because they wanted to see their team win the European Cup. Sadly, the seventies and eighties, my coming-of-age years, were marred by despicable fan behaviour across Europe. ‘Ultra’ fan groups from opposing teams would regularly arrange fights that resulted in severe injuries or worse, while the terraces were racist, homophobic, unsafe for young children, and unwelcoming for women. To overcome this, fans are now segregated within grounds, to ensure violent behaviour is eradicated. In some ways, this has worked, as stadiums are now safer than they were, with more women and children attending games, and violence occurring very infrequently.

And yet the underlying tensions remain as I have witnessed firsthand when my son and I were Brighton and Hove Albion season ticket holders. Brighton is a great club that has overcome much adversity to become a mainstay of the Premier League. We enjoyed watching them rise from the Championship to the Premier League, but about eight years ago, I decided to give up my season ticket. Not because I stopped supporting the team – I still do from a distance – but because I really struggled with the negativity that was constantly present among a few – sadly the more vocal – fans. If they weren’t shouting abuse at the opposition, their fans or the referee, they’d be criticising their own players or the manager. I love football and I love the Albion. I go to games to watch the game and support them, singing along to the hilarious and creative chants supporters groups invent. I also go to get away from the problems of the world for a few hours. But I don’t go to hear abuse and negativity, so eventually decided there were better ways to spend my Saturday afternoons.

Which brings us to today and the World Cup taking place in Canada, Mexico and the US. One of the things I noticed when watching world cup games was that fans from opposing teams were often seen sitting side-by-side. When Holland played their opening game against Japan, the camera would regularly cut to opposing fans sitting together and laughing with each other. Vocal and competitive but joyful and respectful. Groups of fans would take this joy into city centres, entertaining residents with their cheer, songs, dances and in the case of the ‘Tartan Army’, the sound of bagpipes. This is not how we usually see football fans, and some were worried this could lead to an increased the risk of violence. This was clearly not happening, and it was a joy to watch.

As a result of historical violence, football remains the only sport where fan separation is deemed necessary for games to take place. I have been to many other sports events where fans happily sit together, tease each other about the respective strengths or weaknesses of their teams, but are able to enjoy the game without any fear of violence erupting. The prevailing narrative is that this will never be possible in football, for cultural reasons. Some of those arguing that football fans can’t be trusted and should always be separated are displaying very classist behaviour: ‘Rugby fans are just better behaved/educated than football fans’, or ‘You just can’t control a football fan’.

There is no doubt that football culture has very dark roots, including infiltration by far-right racist groups, and a more tribal, ‘us vs them’, narrative to strengthen allegiance to the team. When support for a football team becomes your identity, you are more likely to cross certain moral lines to defend that team and identity. But I believe that the approach to football crowds has also strengthened this tribal, aggressive culture. After all, if we tell fans they need to be separated because they are inherently violent, they will perpetuate this aggressive narrative in other ways. This reminded me of a remark by Tom Eberhardt who advises the Norwegian government on its famously open and trusting prison system: “Treat people like dirt and they’ll be dirt. Treat them like human beings and they’ll act like human beings.”

These are real challenges, but they are cultural, and have nothing to do with human nature, given this tribal behaviour does not seem to exist in other sports. In fact, they aren’t even universal in football. The Basque derby between Athletic Club de Bilbao and Real Sociedad of San Sebastian is known as ‘friendliest rivalry in the world’ where fans sit, drink and enjoy their rivalry together.

If the challenge is cultural, it can be changed. Basque fans have showed it’s possible, World Cup fans are showing it can be done. Is it time for a radical change to how fans are treated in football? Should we consider gradually introducing shared seating at football grounds? I think it can be done. Sure, there will be some who will see this as a licence to be violent, but I trust people to police each other. Furthermore, instances of aggressive behaviour can be addressed with very severe penalties for those who exhibit violent behaviour, helped by the extensive use of CCTV already in place at football games.

Perhaps we can gradually make football grounds a place where a narrative of aggression turns into one of joyful, competitive and shared celebration of the beautiful game. So let’s trust people, let’s bring fans together, in the process remind each other of our shared humanity.

This week’s photo is of a stunning rose that has blossomed in spite of the vagaries of the Highland weather, thanks to Maia’s TLC.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

I came of age in a time when things weren’t that great. We had the Cold War, violent dictatorships in Latin America and apartheid in South Africa to name a few. We had racism and blatant discrimination against women, we had open homophobia. Yet between the time I left home to go to university and the end of my studies in 1993 the Berlin Wall had fallen, Pinochet had been driven from power in Chile and apartheid had ended. Not all was resolved, but things were definitely getting better. Perhaps Martin Luther King was right when he said ‘The arc of moral history is long but it bends towards justice.’

Move forward to today and there is no doubt things are in reverse. Once safe democracies are turning into autocratic crony-states, minorities are being physically threatened and our economies are being run for the benefit of the few, not the many. Meanwhile, desperately needed climate action is being pushed on the backburner by governments too worried about hanging onto power.

I believe that the origins of our current predicament are economic rather than ideological, but these economic circumstances are fuelling ideological divisions, not dissimilar to those Western nations experienced a century ago. Let’s explore these economic drivers:

Inequality: The first two decades of the 20^th century were characterised by very high levels of inequality, measured as the share of income achieved by the 1% highest earners. Since the end of the second world war, inequality has reduced dramatically in Western nations, from a high of 25% to less than 10%, facilitated by a stronger welfare state which targeted improvements in healthcare and education. However, inequality started increasing again from the 1980s, spurred on by the neoliberal policies favoured by Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, to the extent that inequality levels are now as high in the US as they were in the 1920s.

Economic hardship: Today’s cost-of-living crisis is the worst since the 1970s and 1980s. This particularly impacts the poorest citizens for whom food, housing and energy make up a much larger share of household budgets. One hundred years ago, there was a similar period of economic hardship, though it manifested itself differently. In the 1920s a number of price shocks pushed prices up before subsequently dropping dramatically, particularly impacting rural communities reliant on agricultural income.

This century has seen a gradual increase in prices which are rising faster than wages, with essentials such as food, housing and energy rising the sharpest, affecting those reliant on labour income disproportionately.

With this comes growing financial insecurity for most people, especially since the safety nets that governments have provided in many countries are now being squeezed or removed in response to a combination of, on the one hand, austerity measures put in place since the 2008 financial crash, and on the other, a political shift to the right in many western countries, undermining the willingness of governments to support societal welfare measures. The two are linked of course: as the financial stability of citizens is threatened, they are more likely to support right-wing rhetoric that undermines the welfare state and blames migrants for worsening financial problems by ‘taking our jobs’ and ‘wasting government money’, while also causing an increase in crime. These positions are flawed:

• migrants are usually welcomed to plug employment gaps, for instance in healthcare,

• they contribute more to their host economies through job creation and tax payments than they take out through social security spend, and

• there is no correlation between the incidence of crime and migration

The irony is that societal and financial insecurity that caused this surge to the right was driven by right-wing, or neoliberal, economic policies: the loosening of financial regulation in the blind pursuit of growth that led to the sub-prime mortgage crisis resulting in the 2008 crisis.

Anyway, back to today’s concerns: People are worried and want to find solutions, but more than just solutions, they are also looking for a sense of justice, even revenge, against those who are perceived to have caused their suffering. If simple rhetoric, unencumbered by a reliance on data or science, can offer a culprit, effectively a scapegoat to blame for all our ills, it is easy to focus all our energy on that culprit. This is facilitated by the information overload we all need to deal with, where simple messaging cuts through more powerfully than messages that embrace the complexity of the real world, and exacerbated by social media which keeps us in our respective, polarised networks, gradually becoming unaware of, and often immune to, arguments that counter our current perspective. This polarisation leads us to see those who think differently to us as aliens from a different universe with whom we would not share a meal, let alone seek common ground on divisive issues.

Two mutually exclusive narratives?

When confronted with these large-scale challenges that undermine the foundations of society, there are two types of responses.

One argues that it is a zero-sum game: For me to be better off, others have to be worse off. It is my interest to take what is mine and dominate others (the poor, women, migrants, nature, …). This feeds the polarisation we are seeing today as it assumes that we are constantly having to compete with others. It is also the perfect breeding ground for a very small minority to exploit a fractured society for their own political, ideological or simply thuggish preferences, as we saw in Belfast and Southampton last week.

The other narrative argues that, for me to do well, others need to do well. This cooperative, mutual benefit narrative believes that we can have a safer and more plentiful world if we achieve mutual benefit. As I wrote a few weeks ago, cooperation is a much greater part of human and societal progress than we are led to believe.

There is a political dimension to this. The political right uses more the ‘zero-sum’ competitive/dominant narrative to achieve its aims, while the left uses a more collaborative narrative.

But the problem is not just with the right. Progressives are not as open-minded as they might like to think. According to a report published last year, progressive activists’ “tendency to impose purity tests on those they will campaign with, overestimating how many people share their views, and using language that is inaccessible to the wider public is potentially driving a backlash against progressive causes rather than helping them to win people over.”

As progressives we can believe we have a moral high ground because we aspire to a more cooperative world, yet paradoxically this position creates an arrogance and sense of superiority that precludes collaboration with those who think differently to us.

I can relate to this position, as I have felt it many times in the past. Unless you care about others, you are not worthy of my care or respect. Yet over the past few months, as I have been meeting residents of my Highland community as part of volunteering work with the Scottish Greens, I have come to realise that those who think differently, including MAGA supporters and Reform voters, are just people, like us, trying to secure the best possible life for their communities and loved ones, like us.

As I wrote a few weeks ago, we fundamentally care about the same things and have the same needs, but we diverge in our understanding of how to meet these needs. Perhaps the only way to rebuild our polarised societies around mutual respect is to start from what we have in common, rather than focus on what separates us.

For this week’s photo, I had a staring contest with a red deer who greeted me as I returned home from a trip south.

A safe, just and equitable world by 2100 is entirely possible. What stands in the way is not technology or finance, but rather a shared vision of what a positive future looks like, and the political will needed to deliver it. These are the conclusions of the Global Justice Report published by a team of economists led by Thomas Piketty. It is arguably the most hopeful piece of work I have seen in the last 10 years. A better future is possible, but is it realistic? Let’s find out.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read - or listen to - my introductory Substack.

The Global Justice Report is a treasure trove of radical, positive and well-researched ideas and concrete suggestions. I urge you to read its 18-page summary to get a better grasp of the ambition, depth of analysis and breadth of content, but here are a few of my personal highlights:

• Annual working hours continue falling from 2,100 today to 1,000 by 2100, the equivalent of a 2.5-day working week.

• Over 40% of working hours devoted to health and education, with per capita healthcare and education spend doubling in wealthy nations and rising exponentially in poorer ones.

• Income equality across and within countries, to achieve a €5,000 monthly income per person by 2100, equivalent to a doubling of income for 90% of the population.

• Redistribution of wealth so that the bottom 50% global wealth share rises from 2% to 30% while the share of the ultra-rich (0.001% of the global population) falls from 6% to 0.05%.

• Full convergence on pay, economic and domestic labour between men and women to achieve real gender equality

• Global temperatures plateau at 1.8^oC from pre-industrial levels compared to current projections of 4 ^oC by 2100 through rapid decarbonisation and shifts in consumption patterns.

In contrast to many who argue that we can only address the climate and environmental challenges through degrowth, economies can continue growing in their proposals, as long as that growth is distributed fairly and focused on industries that enhance human and planetary wellbeing: Decarbonisation, Health and Education.

To achieve this, our consumption patterns – and how we define happiness - will need to change, shifting from material consumption to sufficiency, which is achieved through shorter working hours, greater leisure and the consumption of things that keep us and our planet healthy.

This will all be financed and administered through a Global Justice Fund which will spend 10% of global GDP, raised through global wealth and income tax revenues between 2026 and 2035. All citizens of the world will have a voice in how the fund is managed.

Reading this work has filled me with a genuine sense of hope and excitement. For the first time, a comprehensive, data-driven and science-based solution has been put forward. It brings together economics, social sciences and technology, offering a clear road map out of the polycrisis. Many in the past, including me, have written about the world we wanted to see, but have been unable to back it up with a concrete pathway to implementation. No longer.

So far, so ambitious. But is it realistic? As a friend commented on LinkedIn when sharing the report, “The cynical selfish side of me sees this as an unrealistic utopia, political will for this is unachievable. The soulful side of me has been searching for this my whole life.” Might the soulful side be right? If so, how?

The report’s authors acknowledge this tension, concluding that ‘What stands in the way is not technical impossibility but political choice and the hard but crucial work of building a coalition behind it’.

The good news is that there is already evidence that supports the findings from the report. Decarbonisation is moving apace and generating significant economic value. For instance, ‘The Race for Net Zero’, a report published last week by the UK’s Confederation for British Industry and the Energy & Climate Intelligence Unit found that the Net Zero economy is contributing over £100 billion to the UK economy and supporting over 1 million jobs, and that every £1 of value generated creates a further £1.85 of value to the wider economy. Similarly, working hours have fallen across most countries in the past 150 years, while 4-day week experiments carried out across Europe, North America and Australasia have maintained productivity while resulting in greater wellbeing.

We need to change our stories

But while important, this relatively anecdotal evidence will not shift us away from the current paradigm. For many of us, the findings of the report feel too radical, an ‘idealistic utopia’. This will never fly in today’s world, or at least in what we perceive to be today’s world.

Those of you who have been following my writing can probably guess what I’m about to suggest: If we want to achieve real, radical and positive change of the kind Piketty and his colleagues are advocating, we need to change our stories. If we don’t change our societal narratives, the stories we believe about the world we live in, not much will change.

This is the reason I am writing Changing Stories, Finding Hope and why I have left my lucrative career as a corporate sustainability consultant.

The vision put forward in the Global Justice Report will remain a utopia if we don’t change our societal narratives. Let me illustrate this through the eight narratives I am researching for Changing Stories.

• If we believe in the narrative that competition is the only way to progress as people and as societies, why would we willing to share what we have, for instance through income and wealth taxes, with those that have less?

• If we don’t trust our fellow human beings, based on everything we read in the media, retreating into ever smaller tribes for a false sense of safety, why would we do anything for those members of humanity that exist outside our tribe?

• If we believe inequality is the natural consequence of an ultra-competitive world – some win, some lose – what is our motivation to share more?

• If we keep judging the success of our economies on their ability to deliver short-term growth, how can we even consider investing today for a better world in 2100 or even 2050?

• If we are constantly told that we can’t be happy if we don’t consume more stuff, as outlined in last week’s article, how can we envisage that the idea of sufficiency introduced in the report can deliver greater wellbeing?

• If we see the natural world as something for humans to dominate and extract from, to serve our consumer lifestyles, rather than something to protect and live in harmony with, what is our motivation to significantly reduce our footprint?

• If we blindly trust technology to provide the solutions to all our economic, environmental and social problems, and don’t question those who develop new technologies, or their motivations, will we have the shared will to consider solutions that are centred on our core humanity?

The Global Justice Report has given me renewed hope, a rare commodity these days, but the roadmap is just the beginning. Let’s be critical of the stories we are told and start changing them.

This week’s photo is from the Bandstand in Nairn, opposite the pub of the same name where I performed with my band, Sidewinder, on Sunday.
Footage unavailable on request.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

The average adult American spends about 40 minutes per day looking at ads. Extrapolate that to an average lifetime and it turns out we spend about 2 years watching ads. We also spend 3 years on social media, which includes a lot of ads. These ads must work as we spend a staggering 8.5 years of our lives shopping.

In other words, we spend close to 15% of our time on earth buying stuff or consuming content that entices us to buy stuff. I am just as guilty as the next person, and remain firmly within the grasp of our consumption narrative: My vice is music and books and the odd technological fix that will finally turn me into a decent musician. At times I just can’t stop myself, convinced that if I don’t have this book my quality of life will be less. Said book dutifully arrives, gets added to the pile of books I need to read, whether for pleasure or research, and quite often stays there, untouched for months if not years. And yet I managed to convince myself that I needed it there and then!

And while I don’t spend that much time on social media, I am in the thrall of technological dopamine hits, feeling that little buzz of excitement every time I open WhatsApp, Signal or email. What is the latest band chatter? Has someone new subscribed to my Substack? As I wrote last week, that need for dopamine can sometimes put me in a state where I am constantly checking chats, emails and news in the hope something positive might appear. It has a way of pulling me in, in spite of myself. You’d think it was intentional…

If we spend over 10 years of our lives consuming stuff and content, it must be good for us, right? Not really. Not all that we consume is critical to our wellbeing or enables us to meet our fundamental human needs. This begs two questions: What are our fundamental human needs, and can consuming help us meet these needs?

What are our fundamental human needs

All humans across time and cultures have the same needs. This is something that two of the main thinkers in this space agree on. You’re probably familiar with the work of Abraham Maslow and his hierarchy of needs, but I have always been more drawn to the work of Chilean economist Manfred Max-Neef.

In his 1986 book ‘Human-scale Development’, Max-Neef sought to develop an alternative approach to economic development, one that was not reliant on international trade and export and was neither on the extreme right (neo-liberalism) or left (communism) of the economic-political spectrum. He argued that development needed to be at a human scale, geared towards satisfying human needs. In his research he developed a definition of nine fundamental human needs:

Subsistence: Health, food, water, and shelter.
Protection: Security and safety
Affection: Love and companionship
Understanding: Learning and knowledge
Participation: Being involved in decisions that affect our lives
Leisure: Free time to relax and reflect
Creation: Expressing ourselves through art, design, or invention
Identity: Identity and belonging
Freedom: Being able to choose how we live our lives

In contrast to Maslow, Max-Neef did not believe there was any type of hierarchy between these needs, apart from the need for subsistence, but both agreed that fundamental human needs do not change between cultures or historical periods. Whether you are a Wall Street investment banker or an indigenous Yanomami from the Amazonian rainforest, whether you were alive in the middle-ages or in the 21st century, your fundamental human needs do not change.

Which brings us to the second question.

Can consuming help us meet these needs?

So, we all have the same needs, but where we disagree is in how we meet these needs. One of the real innovations in Max-Neef’s thinking is the concept of satisfiers, the ways in which we satisfy our fundamental needs. These satisfiers vary significantly between cultures and time periods.

Max-Neef identifies 5 different types of satisfiers:

• Destructive satisfiers: They supposedly satisfy one need, but impair the satisfaction of other needs. Example: Smoking can help us pause and satisfy our need for leisure, but ultimately undermines our survival need.

• Pseudo-satisfiers: They seem to satisfy a need, but the outcome is either false or short-lived. Example: ‘Fast’ purchases, such as fast fashion, give us a temporary sense of identity which is very quickly erased.

• Inhibiting satisfiers: By satisfying one need, they impair the possibility of satisfying other needs. Example: Our consumption of social media might provide us with a bit of leisure, but undermine our sense of identity, participation and affection.

• Singular satisfiers: They satisfy one need, but have no impact on other needs. Example: Buying staple foods for personal consumption (as opposed to sharing with others) meets our need for subsistence, but no other.

• Synergic satisfiers: They satisfy one need and contribute to the satisfaction of other needs. Example: Buying food to share with others meets our need for subsistence, leisure, identity and affection.

Simply put, unless our consumption drives singular or synergic satisfiers, they don’t contribute to meeting our needs or increasing our wellbeing. In fact, they often do the opposite.

To help me understand what that looks like in practice, I really valued Nate Hagens’ recent Substack piece entitled The Consumption Pyramid. In this essay, Hagens identifies seven layers of consumption.

The first three layers are what is needed for a decent and happy life: Meeting basic needs, ensuring we can function in the way we choose, and that we have meaningful relationships. All of these are strongly correlated with Max-Neef’s universal needs and are typically conducive to greater levels of human wellbeing.

(At this point I should add that meeting our basic needs is sadly not a given for most of the human population, something I shall address in a later article).

For those of us fortunate enough to be able to access those things needed for a happy life, this is where things get more complicated. Once our basic needs are met we may start consuming other things, often because of external influences that tell us we don’t have enough status, power, money, beauty, fame, …

Not all of us are drawn to these external factors, but both our growth economy and the consumer society that feeds it, depend on us being hooked to them. Why? Because they are strongly correlated with the consumption of material goods.

Psychologists call these extrinsic values, which focus on external rewards and approval, in sharp contrast to intrinsic values, which offer inherent satisfaction without the need for external recognition. Examples of these include healthy relationships, helping those within our community, exercise, experiencing art, making music, …

Advertising and social media work very hard to reinforce our insecurities by telling us we’re not good enough because we don’t have the latest phone, aren’t attractive enough because we don’t wash our hair with the right product or won’t find freedom because we don’t have the right car. The success of our consumer society shows that they are extremely good at it, because ultimately they are selling us a lie, and we buy it. Tim Jackson sums it up perfectly: “People like us are being persuaded to spend money we don’t have, to buy things we don’t need, to create impressions that won’t last, on people we don’t care about.”

By following extrinsic goals, we are drawn into this crazy narrative. And it gets worse, because chasing these goals makes us less happy: our needs are never satiated and we become dependent on the judgement of others, constantly questioning our own worth. This leads to greater anxiety and a reduction in the quality of our relationships.

In contrast, pursuing intrinsic goals are likely to result in greater life satisfaction, because these goals are mutually supportive and readily available, such as community spirit, strong relationships or access to nature. They also give us a greater sense of purpose, another key determinant of happiness.

And if that isn’t enough, there is the significant environmental footprint associated with the more materialistic, extrinsic values. The sad truth is that with the possible exception of locally grown organic fruit and vegetables, all of our purchases have a negative environmental footprint. But some goods are necessary to meet our basic needs, while others – those in the top 4 layers of Hagen’s pyramid - are usually not. Yet it is this latter category that is responsible for the greatest environmental impact. For instance, the richest one percent of the global population emit more than twice the amount of CO₂ than the poorest 50 percent.

If consuming beyond our basic needs is based on a lie, makes us less happy and is destroying the planet, why do we do it?

That is the question I will seek to answer over the next few weeks. Watch this space.

This week’s photo is from a dramatic Highland sunset taken around 22.30 last week.

Having just driven long distances to join my band for our first summer engagement, the magical Elderflower Fields festival, I had the chance to listen to some excellent audio content which made me reflect on how I deal with the crisis we are in.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, Finding Hope, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

If you are reading this, I don’t need reminding you that the world is a pretty dark place these days. I would also venture that this is causing you significant concern. This dread can be very debilitating. Not just because we feel saddened by the way the world is turning, but also because we feel utterly useless in trying to do something about it. It all seems too overwhelming.

Working on Changing Stories brings me a lot of respite from this dread as the work helps me identify alternative pathways, away from the darkness that seems to engulf us, and I hope it will have the same effect on you when you read the book. But the dread does have a way of creeping back in and can sometimes be very hard to shake, despite the many reasons for hope I am finding through my research.

Last week, as I was preparing to make my way down to the English South Coast to see my children and join the rest of my band members for our first music festival of the season, I was unable to shake this feeling of despair. My brain was firing off an explosion of thoughts that brought together the growing fascism in the US, dissected by Rutger Bregman on this platform; the recent victories of the far-right Reform party in the UK; the rising alienation in society; and our terrifying environmental predicament. Suddenly the work I am doing on Changing Stories, Finding Hope, seemed utterly pointless.

How did I respond to this? By keeping myself constantly busy with writing, reading, exercising and scrolling. These activities (apart from scrolling) usually make me feel good, giving me a sense of accomplishment, that I am working towards my purpose. Not this time. The writing was rubbish, the reading distracted and the exercise numbing. These were not productive activities, but coping mechanisms to avoid having any downtime, for fear that the dread might overwhelm me if I allowed my brain to be free. Another coping mechanism was constantly checking my email and reading the news in the false hope that good news might suddenly appear. It didn’t.

Then I closed my laptop, got into my van, and started driving to Manchester to meet up with my daughter. I had 7 hours ahead of me and was determined to fill them with more information. I had lined up a series of podcasts, was looking forward to finishing Michael Pollan’s A World Appears: A Journey into Consciousness and to start listening to Rob Hopkins How to Fall in Love with the Future. That should keep me in the safe space where the darkness of the world could be kept at bay.

But then something interesting happened. My powers of concentration are pretty poor at the best of times, with my mind constantly drifting off, and before I knew it, I was ten miles closer to Manchester and had missed ten minutes of the audiobook. But the thoughts were no longer dark. The content I was listening to was blending with the stunning Highland views I was driving through, and with those random thoughts that can only appear when the mind is left to wander free, reopening a space for hope and imagination to return.

I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit over the last week, trying to understand why my pattern of thinking had changed, and I think it was down to two things: First, I was no longer exposing myself to negative content through email, social media or the news. Second, and probably more importantly, I was no longer in a position to influence things. I was driving, so could not research another section of the book or write another Substack article. I became accepting of the way things are and temporarily let go of the desire to change them. For a short period, I was not trying to change the future, but just enjoying the present.

This is not a place I want to stay in, because I can’t – and don’t want to – remain a passive observer of a world falling apart, but it also made me realise that it’s OK, even necessary, to take a step back and stop trying occasionally. To just enjoy the present moment.

And with that, I am now going to sit in the sunshine and enjoy the view.

If any of this resonated with you, check out the Nate Hagens’ ‘A Guide to Staying Human’ series (especially the third instalment), who offers some very helpful guidance for those of us who tend to get trapped in our thoughts and struggle to balance a broader mission to ‘fix’ what is wrong with the world with the importance of being present for ourselves and our loved ones.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

Anyway, back to the competition narrative. In researching this topic, I set out to understand whether my personal belief, that cooperation is more beneficial than competition, was grounded in research and reality, and in doing so, I sought to answer three questions from the perspective of nature, human relations and markets:

• Is competition the norm?

• Is competition desirable?

• Is cooperation more conducive to delivering positive outcomes?

The more I read, the more my initial sentiment was confirmed. Competition has a role to play and can deliver benefits, but it also has significant drawbacks, while the importance of cooperation in delivering positive outcomes for people and planet has been severely ignored throughout history.

Myth-busters

As I was reviewing the chapter I noticed something very interesting: those who had succeeded in breaking down the competition myth were all women.

Lynne Margulis showed that despite the prevailing ‘survival of the fittest’ narrative, nature has evolved far more successfully thanks to collaboration. As she put it, “life did not take over the globe by combat, but by networking”. Her work was so groundbreaking that it was rejected 15 times, once with the words “Your research is crap. Don’t ever bother to apply again”. Margulis was determined, and her article appeared in 1967 in the Journal of Evolutionary Biology, then ignored for a further 15 years until further research proved her theories correct.

Suzanne Simard’s work was also discredited and ridiculed, because she dared suggest that within ecosystems, collaboration was a better survival tool than competition. The daughter of a logging family, she realised that the removal of ‘competing’ trees actually weakened the forest ecosystem, in contrast to the prevailing thinking that removing all competitors would allow the preferred type of tree to thrive. As she writes in her autobiography, Finding the Mother Tree: “[Trees] were working together like a system. An intelligent system, perceptive and responsive. Roots didn’t thrive when they grew alone. Trees needed one another.”

This realisation led to the discovery of mycorrhiza, the underground network that connects the roots of plants with fungal networks and enables nutrients and carbon to flow from one plant to the next.

These were brave women who were able to credibly challenge the status quo and not be cowered by adversity and sexism. Which brings us to Michelle Meagher, because the one thing you don’t do as a competition lawyer is discredit competition, that thing you are meant to defend. But that is exactly what Meagher did. In her very readable Competition is Killing Us, Meagher unpicks the myth of competition as it is applied to markets. Specifically, she tackles what she calls the six myths of free market competition:

1. Free markets are competitive.

2. Companies compete by trying to best respond to the needs of society.

3. Corporate power is benign.

4. We already control corporate power with antitrust.

5. The law requires companies to maximize financial value for shareholders.

6. We are all shareholders; we all benefit from corporate focus on shareholders.

Her conclusion is unequivocal: Free market does not disperse power, it creates power.

If you read last week’s Changing Stories Substack, you will be familiar with Elinor Ostrom, the last of our heroines, who countered the ‘Tragedy of the Commons’ argument with in-depth research that won her the Nobel Prize in Economics. Speaking of which, did you know that the first Nobel Prize in Economics was awarded in 1969. Since then, the prize has been awarded to 99 laureates, yet only to three women: Elinor Ostrom in 2009, Esther Duflo in 2019 and Claudia Goldin in 2023. Quite a shocking return and another example of the way women have historically been undermined by men in their ability to choose their career paths, to rise to professional prominence and to have their voices heard. But this got me thinking. Why did the most groundbreaking research so often originate from women?

It’s not binary

A few years ago, as I was researching wellbeing economies, an interesting fact became apparent: Of the four countries that at the time sought to achieve wellbeing economies, where policy measures were geared towards achieving greater wellbeing for their citizens (rather than a singular focus on growth), three were led by women: Nicola Sturgeon in Scotland, Jacinda Ardern in New-Zealand, Katrín Jakobsdóttir in Iceland. The exception was Wales’ Carwyn Jones. I did wonder at the time whether gender might alter one’s perspective on what societal success looked like. Are men more likely to support growth-based, competitive economies and women more likely to favour compassionate and collaborative wellbeing economies?

I have arrived at the conclusion that it isn’t quite as simple as a gender divide, as there are many examples of empathetic male leaders and female leaders lacking any kind of compassion. But there is something about the difference between masculine and feminine characteristics that is worth exploring further.

Much research has been spent defining what these characteristics are, and they are nicely summarised in this Harvard Business Review article:

Looking at the table, it is clear that there are very positive aspects on both sides and that much of human evolution was made possible by both sets of characteristics co-existing. Still, there is no denying that men have had an outsize influence on the history of the planet, with both positive and negative results.

As the table implies these are stereotypical characteristics, but perhaps therein lies our salvation. Through upbringing, culture and narratives, we believe that these are the way men/women should be, and it is in this binary mindset that the problems start. If men are expected to behave in assertive, analytical, independent ways, then it’s no wonder that we end up with a world where dominant behaviour precludes collaborative decision-making, where analytical thought processes make us blind to system dynamics (a concept invented by another woman, the brilliant Donella Meadows) and where an emphasis on separateness blinds us to the devastating human impact on the planet, as Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring helped us realise.

Let’s get out of the box

But this is not about the ‘wrong’ gender, it is about the wrong culture, a culture that reinforces stereotypes and keeps men in the male box and women in the female one. What’s wrong with men showing emotion and empathy, what’s wrong with women being assertive and analytical? A balanced individual needs a mix of masculine and feminine characteristics, irrespective of the gender they are born in, or choose. This matters not only for their own wellbeing, but also for the sake of a healthier society. For instance, a fascinating study found that what the authors call ‘androgynous leadership’ (a mix of masculine and feminine characteristics) was more effective during the pandemic.

In an age of growing polarisation, where we are constantly bombarded with narratives that reinforce stereotypes at the expense of diversity, let’s buck the trend.

If I want to become a more complete human, I need to balance the masculine and the feminine, so I can truly understand the world.

I invite you to do the same.

I’m taking a break from writing next week as festival season is upon us! I can’t wait to be performing again with The Magnificent Kevens at the brilliant Elderflower Fields Festival in Sussex. See you in two weeks.

Until then I will leave you with a photo of one of the regular visitors to our garden, the colourful Goldfinch.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

In the following months I read up as much as I could to help ‘my’ bees survive and prepare for winter. I was astounded by what I learnt. Did you know that a queen’s first and only mating flight can generate over a million eggs through mating with between 10 and 20 drones, and that she lays between 1,500 and 2,000 eggs a day? Or did you know that bees cluster during winter to keep their queen warm, maintaining the temperature at the centre of the hive a balmy 32–37 °C (90–100 °F)? And don’t get me started on how delicious heather honey is. I could go on. Safe to say that I have developed a healthy fascination for these wonderful creatures.

The experience of watching the hive in action is utterly mesmerising, both intense and peaceful. I am someone for whom focus doesn’t come easily. I constantly have thoughts bouncing around my brain with very limited ability to concentrate on one specific thing. Mindfulness in meditation has always eluded me, in spite of many attempts and retreats, but when I am with the bees, no other thoughts cross my mind.

They are just fascinating. Entirely selfless, communal beings, with one sole purpose: to ensure the wellbeing and continuation of the collective, their hive. With that come a few core tasks: Protecting the hive from intruders, ensuring the temperature in the hive is right, building and cleaning brood cells, gathering food and ensuring the queen stays healthy. Occasionally, usually once a year, they jettison their loyalty to the queen by creating the conditions for a new queen to be born. Not out of spite, but because they believe the current queen is no longer able to fulfil her task. That’s right. The bees decide when it’s time for their queen to go because her presence is no longer in the best interest of the collective. Democracy in action.

Society as a hive

Thinking about my bees made we wonder what modern society would look like if we were a bit more like bees. The more I read about it, the more I realised that we have the potential to act in selfless and collective ways, but our modern-day narratives have led us astray. One particular example comes to mind: The Tragedy of the Commons.

I suspect you’re familiar with the principle first named in a 1968 paper published in Science Magazine by Garret Hardin: Left to their own devices, people will use a common resource to maximise their personal gain, resulting in that resource being depleted, and of no worth to anyone. Hardin’s article used the example of herdsman herding cows in an open pasture which eventually becomes overgrazed. The depletion of fish stocks is another example.

The implication is clear: humans are too selfish to manage and protect a shared resource, and the best course of action is to turn that resource into private ownership so that whoever owns it can maximise their benefit. This opened the door for a version of capitalism that promotes competition over the ownership of resources and dismissed the idea that collaboration can play a part in managing resources.

I’ve never been comfortable with the idea that competition is a driving force of humanity. In spite of spending most of the last 30 years working with corporations, for whom competition often seem to be the raison d’être, I believe collaboration is the true driving force. In my experience, even the most competitive enterprises can only succeed because collaboration, within teams, supply-chains or research departments, enables it.

This belief was confirmed when I came across the work of economist and political scientist Elinor Ostrom while researching the ‘Competition’ chapter of Changing Stories, Finding Hope. Ostrom’s research showed that the ‘tragedy’ of the commons should be renamed the ‘victory’ of the commons. Her work was truly groundbreaking, contradicting the established narrative by showing that there are many more examples of collaboration over common resources than there are of destructive competition. Armed with the right story, is entirely within our capacity as humans to collaborate to protect a shared resource.

In her book ‘Governing the Commons’ Ostrom identified eight design principles that enable a common resource to be shared in a sustainable way:

1. Clearly defined boundaries, which includes an understanding of who benefits.

2. Rules reflecting local conditions, ensuring the survival of the ecosystem.

3. Participatory decision-making so all buy into the rules and the importance of respecting them.

4. Effective monitoring of commons to check that rules are being followed

5. Graduated sanctions to achieve observance without causing resentment

6. Conflict resolution should be accessible and affordable for all

7. The right to organise so the commons can overcome legal barriers more easily

8. Embedding within larger systems, particularly where wider co-dependencies or ecosystem impacts exist.

These eight principles were not plucked out of thin air, but derived from more than 800 case studies, observing how communities across the globe had managed common resources over time, including the Barbaig Communal Grazing System in Tanzania, which directly disproves Hardin’s original theory, or the Ascension Bay Lobster Fishery in Mexico, where fishing rights are organised via local cooperatives or firms. More recent global examples include the international cooperation that led to the Montreal Protocol eradicating of many ozone depleting gases, or the Atlantic Bluefin Tuna management regime.

In spite of the prevailing narrative, competition is not the only game in town. Let’s learn from Elinor Ostrom and the bees: If collaboration is a critical part of nature, even human nature, many things become possible.

In 2009, Ostrom became the first woman to win the Nobel Prize for Economics for her work. Perhaps it’s not surprising that it took a woman to break the stranglehold on the competition narrative, but that is for a future article…

Next week will be quite momentous for me. For the first time since moving to the UK over 25 years ago, I will be allowed to vote in Parliamentary elections. This is thanks to our move to the Highlands, as Scotland allows residents of any nationality to vote.

Last night Maia and I went to a hustings where the regional candidates from all parties tried to convinced those assembled why they should vote for them, and answer questions from the room. It was a surprisingly friendly affair, far removed from the shouting matches we see in many parliaments these days. All candidates were respectful of each other, a sentiment that was echoed by the audience.

Perhaps we can thank the chair of the meeting who set the tone early on by inviting the candidates to share why people should vote for their party, rather than why not to vote for the other parties. An enlightened move.

But I also think it might have something to do with grassroots politics. The inflated egos of senior career politicians we witness every day on our screens were nowhere to be seen. Instead, I saw people who were clearly passionate about improving their communities, their regions and their countries. That united them. They disagreed on how to get there but respected their shared love for their constituencies.

I saw something similar when I was distributing flyers for the Scottish Greens in my local village. As I was putting flyers through letterboxes, people would stop and chat. When I told them I was representing the green party I got a range of response. One person enquired whether I was one of those “left-wing loonies”, while someone else wanted to know whether I supported “the LGQT [sic] people and Arabs taking over the country”. I had prepared myself for this, and while in the past I might have made a quick exit and refused to engage, I now tried to understand why they felt that way.

This turned out to be far more enjoyable that expected, and the opportunity to step out of my ‘left-wing loony’ bubble taught me lots about why people are drawn to views that I would consider extreme, which is what I will turn to next. My research to date points to a number of factors:

• Fear: We live in very challenging times. Wars are erupting, global markets are disrupted, inflation is becoming endemic. At the same time employers are cutting costs, and increasingly replacing people with AI. Perhaps this is just a blip triggered by the orange inhabitant of the White House, but it could equally be the shape of things to come as we finally realised that there are limits to growth. No wonder people are fearful, and when this fear strikes, we seek a scapegoat, because it’s easier than accepting that the system itself is broken. So we blame others: our politicians, the poor, the rich or those that are different from us.

• Social Media: My conversations with local people confirmed what I had thought but perhaps didn’t want to acknowledge. My interpretation of reality and of the challenges we are facing is not the only one. But rarely do we (I) step outside of our bubble and seek to understand things from a different perspective. And for that I blame the disproportionate power of social media. Before social media, we got our understanding of the world from news outlets and commentators that prided themselves on the quality of their research and the accuracy of their statements. This might have led to awkward conversations at the dinner table where we might disagree on the responses to the challenges we faced, but at least we were talking, hearing different perspectives and learning from them.
  Social media has changed this. We only see what the algorithms choose for us based on our profile and previous choices, ending up in a never-ending loop of confirmation bias where other perspectives become invisible. When we are confronted with different views, we immediately see them as extreme and aren’t open to discussing them.

• Disconnection: What was striking about the conversations I had with those opposed to migration is that these views were held by people who had not experienced migration. Unfortunately, the Northern Highlands is not very ethnically diverse, but that doesn’t stop people from having very strong – and often negative – views of migrants, largely driven by social media and populist politicians with complete disregard for the truth.

  This points to an interesting dynamic. In its ‘Changing Places’ report the Demos think-tank found that “white British opposition to immigration is lower in locales with more minorities and immigrants” and that “contact with minorities takes the edge of negative perceptions”. I experienced this first hand when I visited the Isle of Bute on Scotland’s West Coast, which had over the last 10 years welcomed a significant influx of migrants and refugees, initially due to the Syrian refugee crisis. The refugee population was welcomed by a community that had suffered its own exodus, with growing numbers of young people seeking employment away from the rural surroundings of Argyll & Bute. Without a new influx of working age citizens, the local economy would struggle. During my time there I had the pleasure of meeting with Yahya Fasi who runs a local café that makes delicious home-made Syrian pastries and his brother Abdul who, together with their father Zakarya, runs the local barber shop. They are a very hard-working family who value the opportunity they were given. It’s no surprise that they, and many other refugee families, are popular, see Bute as their home and are considered local by the Scottish inhabitants of the island.

I am struck by how we seem comfortable in our bubbles, because having our ‘safe’ beliefs challenged is too difficult in already challenging times. This is an understandable reaction, but one which carries consequences because we become obsessed with our differences, letting them have a disproportionate impact on our perception of others. In the process we forget the main things we have in common: Our love for our families, the laughter we share with friends, the tears we shed at a beautiful song, the joy we feel when we see a bird in flight or the soothing nature of a gently running stream. I could go on.

Through my work on Changing Stories and the many conversations I have had, one thing stands out: If we want to turn the tables on polarisation and all the ‘isms’ that come with it, we need to talk to each other, have these difficult conversations and listen to each other’s joys and fears. Only then will we see our shared humanity.

I took this week’s photo at a nature photography course with the brilliant Karen Millar. An orange inhabitant I am very happy with.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

Exhibit A: Fire and Hurricane Seasons

If you’re like me, you probably enjoy Spring when people and planet come to life following months of hibernation. I look around our garden and see the flowers in bloom, buds on trees and lambs jumping around following their mothers across the road. Sunshine and warmth are set to make a return as we prepare for what summer has in store. For me the arrival of Spring also means much rehearsing with my band, The Magnificent Kevens, in preparation for the summer festivals. Lots to look forward to.

But another season is looming that neither people nor planet are looking forward to: Fire Season. In the northern hemisphere, wildfire season usually runs from May to October, with peaks in July and August, while in the southern hemisphere, they hit between August and October. “Forest fires are getting worse, burning more than twice as much tree cover today as they did 20 years ago, largely due to climate change,” according to the World Resources Institute (WRI). To see the stark impact of forest fires on global tree cover, check out this fascinating, and somewhat depressing, time-lapse. All regions of the world are affected, even my adopted homeland of Scotland. Better known for its wet weather, the country experienced more than one wildfire a day over a four-month period in 2023. The first fire of 2026 has just been spotted in the Cairngorms, North of Aviemore.

Forest fires and climate change are closely related, with climate change causing more frequent fires over a larger area, while forest fires release huge amounts of carbon into the atmosphere, equivalent to the emissions of a large industrialised nation.

Another season that is upon is Hurricane Season which starts in June in the Northern hemisphere. While the warming of the planet has not yet led to an increase in the frequency of tropical storms, they are becoming more intense as a result of climate change, causing an estimated 10,000 deaths each year, affecting an average of 20.4 million people, and resulting in direct economic losses of $51.5 billion per year.

I really struggle with the use of the term ‘Season’ for these extreme climate events. They are extreme, and calling them seasons implies they are normal, regular events that we can expect – and should accept - every year. And if they are that normal, what’s the point of fighting climate change to reduce their likelihood or impact?

Exhibit B: Food banks

In a recent interview, film director Ken Loach was reminiscing on the filming of his 2016 film ‘I, Daniel Blake’ which went onto win the Palme D’Or at the Cannes Film Festival that year. It tells the story of a 59-year-old widowed carpenter, played by Dave Johns, who has to work through the labyrinth that is the UK welfare system when he loses his job following a heart attack. In spite of doctors telling him he can’t return to work, the Department for Work and Pensions denies him any benefits and tell him to return to work. He befriends Katie, a young destitute single mother played by Hayley Squires, and both rely on the local food bank to ensure they – and their children – don’t go hungry.

In the interview, Loach said the following: “At the time, we tried to make a film asking whether food banks are tolerable. Now they’re an institution in society. It’s extraordinary that we accept that people will starve unless they get food from a charity. That was simply unimaginable a year or two before we made the film.”

I then researched the growth of food banks in the UK and the numbers are staggering. According to the Trussell Trust, the UK’s largest food bank charity, there were 35 Trussell food banks in 2010. In 2025 there were over 1,700 (not counting independent food banks). This is a 50-fold increase in 15 years.

Food banks are now an integral part of the welfare landscape and have shifted welfare responsibility from the government to society. An academic study of this shift concludes that ‘the food bank has become the new welfare safety-net, catching those who fall through the official social welfare system. Acceptance of food banks in society means that they become recognised as a legitimate method of food sourcing in times of austere need, and they reflect changes made to the welfare state. Acceptance of food banks has also been ‘normalised’, perhaps even ‘encouraged’, through the changing language of ‘welfare’, ‘culture of benefit dependency’; and the demise of concepts such as ‘social security’. What this has sought to do is to shift the responsibility for addressing food poverty away from the state.’ This final sentence says it all…

Much of this was the result of the austerity measures imposed by the previous Conservative administration, and while the Labour government is trying to reduce dependency on food banks, not much has changed yet. Perhaps nothing will as long as we see them as the norm.

Exhibit C: Fascism

To maintain their political advantage and counter the fear from the far-right, parties from the centre of the political spectrum are now advocating positions that were once deemed extreme. As Mensur Haliti, Vice-President of the Roma Foundation for Europe articulates, “Far-right parties no longer need to win outright. They just need to be copied. In Germany, mainstream parties echo [extreme right party] AfD language to hold electoral ground. In France, securitised migration rhetoric once confined to the margins now shapes government policy. In the Netherlands, fringe positions have become coalition platforms.” Many once open societies can be added to that list, including the UK and the US.

This is probably the scariest of all normalisations because its consequences impact so many aspects of healthy societies: democracy, civil rights, migration, tolerance, science and the rule of law, to name a few.

Let’s look at some examples:

• The dehumanisation of migrants: The growing use of tribal or denigrating language, such as ‘illegal’, ‘aliens’, ‘cockroaches’, ‘animals’, or the false rhetoric that migrants are after ‘our jobs, our money and our women’ has moved from fascist parties such as the British National Party to the centre. There is a racist undertone to this too, as this language is typically reserved for people of colour, rather than white migrants.

• The rise of the police and military state: Whether it’s ICE in the US, border policing in Europe or the increased use of police forces to limit the right to protest, police and the military are increasingly used to protect the interests of those in power, rather than those of the society they should serve.

• The erosion of civil rights: The right to assemble, the human rights of minorities and the freedom of expression are being portrayed as ‘anti-democratic’ because they are seen to limit what the majority can do.

• The rollback of climate measures: In spite of overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary, climate scepticism is rife, supporting by a powerful fossil fuel lobby in Europe and the US. This has resulted in the roll-back of climate legislation on both sides of the Atlantic.

• Misinformation and propaganda: In an interview with the New Statesman, Mike Berners-Lee summarises the challenge beautifully: “We need to completely reset the idea that it’s OK to be dishonest in public life”. He has a point. Politicians seem to think that the truth is disposable if it gets in the way of their political aims. We have seen many instances of this across the world, but it has become so blatant that we now expect many politicians to lie.

Taken individually, each of these is bad news. Viewed together, they are a fundamental threat to democracy and civil society and risk returning us to the 1930s, that very darkest of decades.

As citizens we have the power, maybe even the responsibility, to change this. Let’s remain alert to the normalisation of the abnormal, let’s critically examine the ‘big bold statements’ of our elected officials and let’s allow science and humanity to guide us all. Let’s call out the normalisation of abnormal events, behaviours and rhetoric before it’s too late. In so doing we can learn the lessons from the past, counter the normalisation of these abhorrent trends and turn the tide so that the next decade will be remembered as the one that saw the return of planetary action and human empathy.

This week’s photo is from a weekend we spent discovering Coigarch in the north west Highlands.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

Some believe that the Hormuz crisis will be resolved soon and that we shouldn’t worry too much. Others fear it will be more protracted, and we should look for alternative sources of fossil fuels. Just the other day I was out in my community distributing leaflets for the Scottish Greens ahead of next month’s Scottish Parliament elections. During my round I met a lovely lady who was born in the community and had lived there for most of her 70 years. When I told her I was volunteering for the Scottish Greens, she immediately commented that we need to start drilling again for oil and gas in the North Sea. I explained to her, as I had outlined in a previous article, that drilling in the North Sea won’t result in any new oil or gas for another 5-10 years, nor will it impact prices. But I understand the sentiment, the feeling that cheap energy will fix everything and we just need to get through this crisis.

But it won’t. Sure, it might be possible to increase supply by drilling more, going deeper, extracting from shale and tar sands. All these might increase supply for a few decades - even a century in the case of coal – but it will come at a significant financial, and disastrous environmental and social cost.

We are seeing this play out already through wars that our driven by our desperation to access fossil fuels and the real impact of climate change on water supplies, food production and livelihoods, which will decimate economies and result in millions of climate-related deaths annually.

But even if we chose such a desperate route to quench our thirst for oil, by taking a step back it is clear that whatever relief it offers will be short-lived. The fossil fuel era started just over 200 years ago, and on current predictions it might last for another 100 if we ignored the climate crisis. In just 300 years we will use up all the fossil fuel supplies that the planet had taken millions of years to create. The most productive and arguably the most exciting period in human history was made possible through the availability of cheap energy that is about to run out. Then what? Do we leave it to our descendants to sort out the mess?

There is another way

In spite of what most governments want us to believe, the solution exists. It requires both reducing demand and changing the supply of energy.

Technology will help on the demand side, making goods more energy and material efficient, but because of a phenomenon known as Jevon’s Paradox, efficiency improvements rarely result in actual reductions. Simply put, the more efficient something is, the more we want it, thus growing overall demand.

Jevon’s Paradox is related to the main barrier to reducing energy use: our psyche. The definition of happiness that has evolved over the past century is the real problem. As Nate Hagens eloquently put it in his Great Simplification podcast, the pursuit of happiness has become the pursuit of more, fuelled by a plentiful supply of fossil fuels. Yet ‘more’ is not the route to happiness. Research consistently shows that financial wealth, material goods, status or social media likes don’t make us happier. They are tempting, but the appetite for them will never be satiated. Instead, it is the quality of our relationships, our sense of belonging and purpose that paves the road to greater wellbeing. This is one of the core narratives that I address in my research and I will cover this in more depth in a future article.

Having briefly covered energy demand, let’s now turn our attention to the energy supply conundrum. The prevailing narrative is that without fossil fuels we can not meet our energy needs. There is no doubt that with current technology this is the case, but what we can do with current technology is constantly evolving. Some, like Jamie Arbib and Tony Seba argue that the cost of renewable energy is going down so fast that energy will effectively be free within a generation. That might be somewhat optimistic, but the potential for plentiful, renewable energy that can power a cleaner future is real. The technologies for generation and storage exist, though not yet at the scale required.

How do we get scale?

The answer to the question of scale may come from the latest report by the Impact Economy Foundation. In True Profits Assessment, the authors highlight how current corporate profits only exist because the social and environmental costs that arise from generating these profits aren’t considered. According to their calculations, globally listed companies would see their profits cut by 66% if social and environmental costs were accounted for. They conclude that “Current profitability often depends on the ability to externalise costs rather than create net societal value. As a result, companies can generate strong financial returns while shifting costs to people, nature and future generations.”

This profitability gap, whereby sustainable solutions remain unprofitable because of a narrative that prioritises growth, is particularly damaging for European companies who tend to have greater social and environmental standards, making them less competitive globally. As things stand, our choice is either to make sustainable economies more competitive, or to continue offloading the costs of corporate activity to people and planet.

Thankfully, the authors have identified four areas where targeted action could result in real change:

1. Changing the tax regime: Putting policies in place whereby more sustainable companies get a lower effective tax rate, creating border tariffs if companies fall below sustainability standards and creating targeted taxes on social and environmental ills.

2. Lowering the cost of capital: Central Banks offer preferential rates based on sustainable outcomes while supporting green lending.

3. Modernising accounting systems: As Jeremy Nicholls argues in his latest book, The Accounting Paradox, accounting systems must evolve to include social and environmental dimensions.

4. Procurement and industrial strategy: Public procurement should include sustainability impacts in their purchasing decisions, while industrial strategy must direct subsidies towards those industries that will deliver a cleaner, better future.

If not now, when?

Is now the right time to ask for these changes? After all, our political leaders are in a constant firefight dealing with crisis after crisis. Yes, it is important to deal with these crises, but unless we are willing to act for the long-term, today’s problems will seem benign in comparison to future challenges.

Let’s use the last gasp of the age of fossil fuels to develop the technologies - and political wisdom - that can ensure all life of earth can thrive.

This week’s photo is of the beautiful lichen Oakmoss which needs clean air and is thankfully abundant in our local woodland.

Warren Buffett? Andrew Carnegie, JD Rockefeller? Bill Gates?

The answer: Jamsetji Tata with over $100Bn donated. Not a household name, but far more familiar than you might think.

This Substack series is informed by the writing of my upcoming book Changing Stories, Finding Hope which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

The city of Jamshedpur sits at the confluence of the Subarnarekha and Kharkai rivers in the Northern Indian state of Jhardkhand. It is home to over 1 million people in one of India’s poorest regions. Yet it is an outlier, a healthy city with an infrastructure that belies the overall development of the region: it ranks as one of India’s cleanest cities, all its sewage is collected and treated, over 90% of the city has access to quality drinking water and it sits at the top of quality of life rankings.

It’s an outlier in one more way too: Jamshedpur is almost entirely run by JUSCO, a subsidiary of Tata Steel. The ties with Tata Steel go back over 150 years when the owner of the local steel works, Jamsetji Tata wanted to build an exemplar city for his workers. He believed company and community had to prosper together: “In a free enterprise, the community is not just another stakeholder, but is, in fact, the very purpose of its existence.”

Something about the idea of a city being controlled by a business makes me uncomfortable, but Tata is no ordinary business. Jamjeti Tata’s sons donated their personal wealth to the Tata Trusts which now own 66% of the Tata Group’s parent company, and have made philanthropic donations of $103Bn in the last century. And this is where it gets really exciting.

Quiz question #2: What do the Tata Group, FC Barcelona, Novo Nordisk, Carlsberg, Bosch, IKEA, Patagonia, Mozilla, BUPA, Nationwide Building Society and the Green Bay Packers have in common?

The answer: They are all not-for-profit. Yes, that’s right, these global superpowers are actually not driven by profit but by purpose, through the foundations or members that own them. And still, they succeed and are on the whole very profitable, which can teach us interesting lessons about the future of our economies.

Reflecting on profit

Easter Friday is a day of reflection for many Christians around the world. I too spent the day reflecting, but this had nothing to do with religion. Instead, I attended a conference at the Findhorn Eco-Village in northern Scotland where I met Donnie Maclurcan, founder of the PostGrowth Institute, an organisation that seeks to ‘to enable collective wellbeing within ecological limits’. Given that core to my teaching is the idea that the economy should shift from a focus on growth to one of wellbeing within planetary boundaries, I was keen to find out more.

Our conversation took me in a direction that surprised me, though in hindsight it probably shouldn’t have. As I wrote previously, our addiction to economic growth is causing a whole range of unwanted side-effects. The case for moving beyond growth is getting stronger by the day, but the transition to postgrowth economies is hard to picture, as we seem so dependent on growth for a number of things that make our economies function, including the tax revenues that can fund public services.

My conversation with Donnie made me realise that there is an alternative that is staring us in the face: Not-for-profit businesses. These are defined as organisations that put purpose ahead of profit and aren’t privately owned.

This doesn’t mean they don’t seek to be profitable, but profit is seen as a means to achieve the organisation’s purpose, not as a goal in itself. Profit maximisation, often done in the name of shareholder value, is not the objective of these organisations. They understand their purpose and use the corporation as a tool to achieve said purpose. Put like that, it seems pretty natural, so why does it sound so radical in today’s world?

Because our dependency on economic growth is creating a profit dependency: In the prevailing model, companies must maximise profits to please their shareholders whose only relationship with the company is a financial one, and for which the only measure of success is financial return. In non-profit businesses, this is entirely flipped: Profit is the means to an end, not the end in itself.

The other reason the concept of non-profit business seems radical is because we believe it to only apply to small family businesses or charities with a trading arm. It has nothing to do with the vast majority of businesses active in the world today.

In fact, there are many different forms of non-profit businesses including:

• Industrial foundations like the ones mentioned above

• Most cooperatives and mutual companies, like Mondragon or Nationwide.

• Membership-based sports organisations like the Green Bay Packers, FC Barcelona (and Lewes FC of which I am a proud shareholder)

• Government-owned enterprises, like the US Postal Service or the BBC

• New forms of non-profit corporate entities such as community interest companies and companies limited by guarantee.

While still a small minority, their potential to generate greater benefits for the wider economy is huge, in contrast to what many might think. The prevailing narrative argues that that our economy would suffer in a postgrowth world, but a closer look at the impact of not-for-profit businesses shows a very different picture:

Tax
Not for profit business still make a profit and still pay taxes on this profit. In fact, their effective tax rate (the percentage of profit that is paid in taxes) is usually much higher than their for-profit peers because they are less likely to take part in the type of tax avoidance schemes many of their competitors tend to favour in the name of shareholder value.

To test this point I asked an AI agent to compare effective tax rates of Bosch, IKEA/Ingka, Amazon and Apple (and double-checked the data). The results blew my mind.
Bosch and Ingka pay three times more tax as a percentage of profit than Amazon and Apple. The difference? Apple and Amazon follow aggressive tax avoidance strategies to maximise shareholder value, while Bosch and Ingka pay their fair share of taxes and maximise societal value (See the table at the end of this article for numbers and sources).

Profit distribution
The profit they make is reinvested in the business or, as is the case with Tata and Patagonia, shared with the community through philanthropic donations. Profits to shareholders only benefit those that already have assets.

Innovation
As more money is reinvested in the business, more can be spent on innovation. Bosch corporate documents states this explicitly and in 2024, Bosch reinvested 86% of its €2.1 billion profits into the business, enabling them to invest double in R&D compared to its industry peers.

The economics of enough
Profit maximisation thrives in a world dominated by endless consumption cycles to push demand, always wanting more. Our planet is unable to meet this never-ending, and growing, demand for stuff, resulting in the environmental disasters we are facing, while excessive consumption comes at the expense of our wellbeing and financial stability. In a world where purpose trumps profit, the focus is on the economics of enough. Enough to meet our core human needs but not all of our material wants. Stay tuned as I will explore this in more depth in a future article.

Turning the corner and shaking off our dependency on economic growth won’t be easy, but not-for-profit business show a realistic road ahead. It appears a post-growth world could actually be better for people, planet AND the economy…

This week’s photo is of geese leaving the Highlands to head back to their northern breeding grounds, under the watchful eye of Beinn Dearg.

Appendix:

Tax calculations table - FY 2024.

Sources: Bosch, IKEA/Ingka, Amazon, Apple

This Substack series is informed by the writing of my upcoming book Changing Stories which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

This Saturday, together with my wife, son and millions of others across the US and the UK, I marched for freedom, and against the rise of misogyny, racism and fascism.

We took part in London’s Together Alliance march against the far right, winding its way through Central London from Hyde Park to Trafalgar Square and Whitehall. It was the UK’s biggest ever multicultural protest, a joyful, exuberant occasion, with all cultures, religions and nationalities marching in solidarity: Black and white, Muslims and Jews, students and pensioners, career professionals and freelance artists, Communists and Liberals, trade unionists and company directors. ... All those present were united in their wish to stand up to the far right that is trying to divide us through fear, intolerance, racism and xenophobia. Or how one placard put it: ‘So far right, so far wrong’.

This sense of shared humanity, and the wish to stand up to despotism and fascism was also evident across the United States where up to 8 Million people came together for the No Kings rallies.

As the crowds gathered around Trafalgar Square, they were greeted by A-list celebrities and politicians, while superstar DJs and musicians performed throughout the day. Those who know me can attest to the fact that I am addicted to music, but for once, my greatest source of entertainment came from the creative, clever and often hilarious slogans we spotted along the way. My favourite was probably ‘It’s so f…ed up, even the introverts are here!’.

It was a wonderful thing to be part of, and helped dispel the myth that xenophobia is a majority position. Far from it. Finally, the actual majority, the billions who believe in their fellow human beings and dismiss the politics of fear and division, have woken up and want to be heard. A ‘silent’ majority no more.

Call me sentimental, but there is nothing more heartwarming than seeing people united, not because they have to, not because they are forced to, but because they see beyond division to the common humanity we share. I was particularly struck by the presence of the Holocaust survivor descendants against Gaza genocide, who see no difference between the genocide committed against their Jewish ancestors to that committed against Palestinians in Gaza. All they see are human lives being destroyed.

While left wing representation was strong, this was not a political protest. The marchers were a true microcosm of the beautiful breadth and diversity of UK society. But one thing did trouble me, as I read through the leaflets and papers I picked up during the March. For all the unity on display there was an undercurrent of division between the different players on the left of the political spectrum. For some, the green party is too ‘establishment’ (who would have thought that a few years ago?), for others the Socialist Party wasn’t radical enough while for many, including the large numbers of trade unions present, Labour was a big part of the problem. I would never expect all these voices to be ideologically aligned, but when faced with a common enemy that threatens our society, our economy and our humanity, surely the focus should be on highlighting our common voice, not our difference?

When unity prevails, extraordinary things can happen, as was shown in the Green Party’s historic and surprising victory in the Gorton and Denton by-election. This victory was only possible because people from many different persuasions came together, united by a wish to defeat Reform UK and its divisive rhetoric.

This was also the week that I watched Louis Theroux’s ‘Inside the Manosphere’ documentary. As the father of young adults, I was horrified by how extreme misogyny is being mainstreamed through the power of social media platforms that happily turn a blind eye, and become ‘content agnostic’, as long as a buck is to be made. Successful influencers are very skilled at amplifying their voices, creating the false impression that their views are common, effectively normalising extreme – and extremely dangerous - behaviour.

While the recent verdict against Meta and YouTube, for fuelling social media addiction, may address some of this, the tide will only turn if the silent majority breaks its silence and chant together ‘Not in my name’.

That is what many did on Saturday. Let’s hope this is just the beginning.

This week’s photo is of hoof mushrooms growing on a local birch tree.

This Substack series is informed by the research for my upcoming book, Changing Stories, which looks at the way negative – and flawed - narratives shape our perception of the world we live in and our ability to imagine and create a more positive future. For more background please read my introductory Substack.

I am very fortunate to live close to nature and enjoy the sound of birdsong, the wind rushing through the trees, swim in the freshest water you could imagine while enjoying the most amazing sunsets. But with such a rural setting come some more practical challenges, such as access to clean energy. Our home is dependent on oil for heating and the UK grid for electricity, which can be challenging. Oil prices have risen 77% since the start of the Iran war, while electricity – largely from wind - is prone to cuts when those ‘once a decade’ extreme storms now pass through the North of Scotland a few times a year.

For these reasons, and the wish to reduce our carbon footprint, we have been exploring energy self-sufficiency. In case you’re interested, we are looking for an array of solar panels with battery storage. But I’m not here to give you home energy advice.

My quest for a low-carbon, resilient source of home energy did make me think about what has been happening in the Middle-East in the last few weeks, its origins and repercussions.

I don’t want to be dependent on fossil fuels. I don’t want to be at the mercy of price hikes, for a commodity whose price is determined more by geopolitics than supply and demand, nor do I want to contribute to rising carbon emissions any more than I have to.

Simply put, I want as much energy independence and self-sufficiency as I can, and I am willing to invest today to achieve this. To me that seems to make both financial and environmental sense while ensuring greater energy security.

So why are most governments doing the opposite?

The illogical story

And as we all know by now, the war in Iran and its impact on the Middle-East has had repercussions across the globe, causing many countries to rethink their approach to energy security. But in so doing any logic seems to have gone out the window.

Take the UK as an example. The story preferred by the political right goes something like this: The country has become too reliant on importing oil and gas which puts it at the mercy of geopolitical crises. To avoid this happening in the future, new licenses to explore the North Sea should be issued so the UK can produce its own energy and become energy independent.

So far, the UK government’s position has been ambivalent, but a more proactive approach is much needed, because this narrative pretty much falls at the first hurdle for three reasons. First, oil and gas prices are set through the global markets, so they won’t impact what people in the UK pay at the pump or to heat their homes. Second, 93% of the UK’s North Sea oil and gas reserves have already been exploited, so whatever relief this might offer, it will be short-lived. Finally, and probably most relevant, it will take at least 5-10 years before any new licenses result in actual production, so this will do nothing to avert the current crisis.

Real and present dangers

There is no doubt that energy self-sufficiency and independence in a fractured world are worthwhile aims, but relying on fossil fuels to achieve this is as short-sighted as it is dangerous. I’ve just explained why it is short-sighted, but the reasons it is dangerous go far deeper.

First, the climate crisis, caused by our addiction to fossil fuels is a real and present danger. As Will Day, one of my Cambridge colleagues articulates so powerfully, because of climate change we are already seeing ‘wetter wets, dryer drys, hotter hots and colder colds’. And it’s only getting worse, impacting our ability to grow food, threatening critical infrastructure and leading to greater inequalities. Recent analysis by the International Institute for Environment and Development (IIED) shows that the number of countries falling into critical food insecurity could almost triple to 24 if global temperatures increase by 2^oC, disproportionately affecting poorer nations.

Which leads me to the second real and present danger: As resources become scarcer due to our never-ending demand to meet the needs of our consumer society, economies are fighting for access, with economic policy, with tariffs and now with weapons, taking many lives in the process.

The logical alternative

It doesn’t have to be that way. There is an alternative and it is staring us in the face: renewables. I suspect this seems obvious to all of you, but for some reason not to our elected officials.

In 2025, 44% of the UK’s electricity demand was sourced from renewable sources, with wind responsible for more than half of this. The technologies are already available to achieve close to 100%: residential solar, offshore wind, smart grids, heat pumps, transport electrification and battery storage to name a few.

But surely that’s too expensive you may think? Not really. The total cost of achieving Net Zero has been estimated by Policy Exchange to be just over £100Bn if achieved by 2035 and just over £115Bn by 2030. That might seem like a lot of money, but it pales in comparison to the alternative. The UK’s Climate Change Committee estimates that achieving Net Zero by 2050 will cost less than one fossil fuel price shock. That is a staggering statistic.

And while we’re in the midst of a fossil fuel centred war, it’s worth looking at cost of war to secure energy security. Harvard Kennedy School research led by Nobel Prize Economist Joseph Stiglitz estimates that the Iraq war cost the US $3Tn.

And yet here we are again, arguing for the ‘quick fix’ of renewed fossil fuel exploration when the UK solutions are readily available. Somehow our political leaders completely fail to see the system dynamics at play, and it’s hurting us all.

A rethink is urgently needed, this time with science and logic at its core.

This week’s picture makes me wish I was a crow.