The Hames Report

The Wisdom of Generations

Did you know that at the equator, the Earth spins at a fixed rate of around 1,000 miles an hour? Probably not. The reason you cannot feel it turning is that, along with everything else on the surface of the planet, including the oceans, the forests and the cities, we are all spinning at the same constant speed.

Movement and synchrony are signs of vitality and of progress. Clues that we are alive. They are one of life’s constants - even if we do not notice them. To remain static is to be moribund. Or dead! Although we are not usually all that sensitive to the pace of change, and certain events, like the nine months gestation period it takes to grow a baby, do not vary much, it is remarkable how human knowledge and expertise have been accelerating exponentially since the dawn of history. Let me give you an example from my own life.

I stopped writing music in 1984 – a year before my 40^th birthday. Although this was an intensely poignant decision at the time, since I had been composing music almost daily since the age of five, there were a number of valid reasons for discontinuing. For one thing I felt the urge to experiment with words rather than sounds. I had become jaded by the solitary nature of composition, and the competititve nature of the profession was sapping my love for the art of music-making and performance. But mostly it was because my music, dubbed by critics as part of thenew complexity - a surefire way to kill off any interest on the part of concert-going audiences incidentally - was played by fewer and fewer musicians. Meanwhile the number of people who were inclined to attend concerts of “cerebral art” was shrinking. I had to face facts. Being a composer of modern classical music had become an indulgence I could no longer afford. What is the point of relating this story?

The last piece I wrote was a 24 minute music-theatre work called Quete - for percussion. It had been commissioned by a brilliant student of mine at the Victorian College of the Arts. Peter Neville, a member of Elision Ensemble, lauded internationally for its virtuosic flair and courageous programs, was one of the most talented young musicians in Australia at the time. Regrettably, the piece made so many demands on the performer, and required such dexterity, that it was pronounced unplayable.

Quete remained unheard for the next 32 years. Then, in February 2016, Kaylie Dunstan, a final year student at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, decided to include the work in her graduation recital.  She played this incredibly complex piece from memory, to a highly appreciative audience, with a precision and sense of maturity that was breathtaking.

The same story in terms of skills development can be seen in sport. Jackie Charlton, who played in the soccer team that won the World Cup in 1966, recently acknowledged that the current England team would most likely demolish his old team with their superior use of data, intensive training techniques, spontaneous inventiveness, individual skills and levels of fitness. I imagine that the same principle would apply to most fields of endeavour where performance expertise, physical endurance, mental toughness and agility are on display.

A related issue is the time it takes for entire societies to adjust to new technologies and to adapt to changing conditions. In our modern world the interval between conceptual design, commercialisation, and market uptake is extremely compressed. In 1995 hardly anyone knew about the Internet. Barely a decade later it had become so ubiquitous that we could not imagine life without it. At the beginning of 2007, nobody had even seen a touch-screen smart phone with a camera. Steve Jobs unveiled the first ever iPhone in January of that year. By 2017 over 66 per cent of the population owned a smartphone with its music streaming and photographic capabilities considered the most important components.

Each of these trends represents a radical shift in the ways we are able to live, play, work, entertain and engage with each other. But there is a deeper, more profound pattern here that links to my initial ideas about new skills acquisition and development. For underlying each shift is the astonishing rate at which knowledge is discovered and applied. The just-in-time industry vogue of the 1970’s has given way to a real-time actuality in diverse fields. The ultimate leap forward in this regard is the noosphere of regenerative consciousness, which is already informing the reinvention of failing systems including energy, agriculture, education, social wellbeing, human relations, and so much more.

This is exceptionally good news for humanity. It is symbolic of our flexibility in the face of circumstances that threaten to disrupt every organisation and institution on the planet. Of course there are tricky pathological disorders still to be overcome – like our inexplicable readiness to espouse scientism as the only means by which society can establish norms and epistemological values. But at least we can now have renewed confidence in our potential to address those worse case scenarios that have so many of us throwing up our hands in horror and declaring the end of life as we know it.

Obviously the difference between being able to deploy knowledge rapidly, aided by the digital development of both human and machine acumen and skills, and wisdom (that is accepting the need for substantial change in the first place) raises further issues. But even then the situation is possibly more optimistic than not.

The youthquake of activism and civil disobedience spreading around the world is a sign that young people everywhere are refusing to become heirs to the avaricious world we have been so busy making on their behalf. They see through our hypocrisy and have no intention of being bullied into compliance by unelected oligarchs. They are making their voices heard and I doubt they will want to compromise.

If we can avoid gender-biased coding and diverse ethical traps, artificial intelligence will be used to make the world work for everyone. New modes of organising, such as peer-to-peer models and revitalised cooperatives, will erode the more predatory aspects of capitalism. Experiments with how power is exercised will eventually offer more engaging forms of democratised governance.

But the greatest hope for human durability and prosperity is a barely-visible tipping point: the speed at which we will agree to cooperate to redesign human presence on Earth.

The darkest hours are just before the dawn. And dark forces of destruction are stalking civilisation today. I believe these will be transitory and that a new dawn is on the horizon. We must be thankful in that regard for the various crises afflicting us – from our addiction to materialism, pressure from 7.7 billion people causing the failure of our most life-critical systems, the culture of fear that incites us to blame others for our predicament, and the anxiety and distress that perpetuates the illusion buying more and more stuff will bring happiness, when we already know that is not the case. For while these burning platforms are certainly dangerous, and pose a very real risk, the determination to resolve them is becoming a tsunami.

The regenerative impulse lies deep within the human soul. Although the future is a fairly meaningless concept for most people, the decisions we take tomorrow will be critical. For it is then we will realise the need to let go of those parts of our nature that are destructive and bring us only pain.

Instead we will find ways to inhale the joy of what it actually means to be a sentient human being. The most powerful emotion we can harness is unconditional love for life. That, and the realisation we are not separate from each other, nor from the planet in which we all live, will free the most profound renewal of the human species in our history.

It will not be forced. Nor can it be engineered to any great extent. Ironically that fact alone is sufficient to alarm those among us who try to control every outcome.

This transformation will be born of its own accord, in its own way, in its own time. How can I be so sure? Because there is simply no other way if we are to avoid extinction or living in an environment that is toxic to health and well-being. Only as a unified family, rather than separate competing tribes, will we rediscover the wisdom of generations, and use this to transcend history and our own prior accomplishments.

War in a World Manufactured by Men

Like it or not we are all related to one another. As homo sapiens, sharing a home we call Earth, it is not surprising that we should exhibit similar desires, and voice almost identical needs. The patterns of our collective experience are remarkably similar. Those factors that separate us are not so numerous, nor as implanted, as the elements that unite and define us.

We are remarkably adaptive and resilient. Inventive too. Indeed, our resourcefulness seems to know no bounds. The inspirational art and music we craft, the extravagant structures we engineer, the fictions we conjure up, the science and philosophies that engross us, and the intricate systems we design, mark us out as an exceptional, if not unique, life form.

So why do we find it so hard to get along? Why is it so difficult to reconcile our differences, particularly when these are often so trivial in retrospect? Why are we fearful of each other when diversity is primarily responsible for generating the insights and breakthroughs we use to develop how we think and what we do? Why is it that we devote so much energy battling and defending ourselves from each other? What are we frightened of?

Is it really the embodiment of an advanced civilisation that we resort to slaughtering each other at the slightest provocation - particularly when we have access to such a wide variety of modes of expression, including sophisticated tools for visualisation and analysis, that can be applied to resolve almost any dispute? In theory it should be easy. So why do we find it so impossibly challenging?

Whenever I have posed this, or comparable questions, in the past I have invariably received bewildered looks. It is as though the question itself is either invalid, or that the answer is so obvious that I must be demented for asking it in the first place. From the responses I usually get I might conclude that aggression is an innate human quality - the impulsive exercise of unconcealed rage on a power spectrum ranging from deference to defiance. In other words, it is just human nature - like breathing or sleeping, it is hard-wired into our very being and consequently true, about every human, every time.

If that really is the case, we can forget about becoming less violent. It is commonly accepted that human nature is inherently fixed and almost impossible to change. This bundle of ways of knowing, feeling, relating and acting is the core of who we are as human beings. It follows that if a proposition runs counter to human nature it is bound to fail.

But I wonder if that is always true. Are we attributing more to human nature than is actually deserved? If so, could we be using it as an excuse, in order that pursuits best suited to some sections of society can prevail unchallenged?

We know that societies develop and change. Indeed, this is why torture and execution as a public spectacle is no longer acceptable. A growing aversion to brutality, too, means we have less tolerance for conflict today than we did a century ago. Increasingly war is regarded as immoral and barbaric. But is that type of societal impulse accurately reflected in personal preferences? We are told that individual temperament changes only slightly over an entire lifetime - unless we actually want it to, and do something to cause such a shift.

On the other hand, basic traits, a synthesis of our genetic heritage and the environment in which we grew up, are merely the starting points for our evolving identity. The impact from continually changing external conditions can alter any epigenetic predispositions we have at birth. Moreover, the brain's plasticity allows for its reconfiguration - both functionally and structurally. Taken together, this means that while social norms and institutions invariably influence and condition individuals, each one of us can help shape the society of which we are a part. It turns out that human nature is not static, but a dynamic condition that adapts and morphs over time. So why would we not deliberately set about changing our relations with each other in order to be less aggressive and more compassionate?

Perhaps we do have an innate antipathy to some things. We are constantly told that certain emotions - like greed, envy and selfishness - are hard-wired. But is that really the case? Take selfishness for example. If it is in our nature to be selfish, how can we account for the many volunteers, carers, and rescue workers that give their time, and occasionally even their lives, helping others in distress? Given that these are unexceptional individuals, not some super-human of the kind to be found in Marvel comics, we must conclude they are either atypical of the majority in some other way or, far more likely, that selfishness is actually not intrinsic to human nature.

A far more observable trait is that the things we learn to think, believe, say and do together often display innate group characteristics. Thus, it is a more acceptable notion that cultural norms, rather than human nature per se, once formed, are innate. Members of a music club differ from a rowing fraternity, for example. One university college will diverge from others on the same campus. The energy in a government agency is dissimilar to that in a high-tech startup. Their cultures are different - and noticeably so.

Sometimes these differences are subtle. At other times stark. But they invariably have two qualities in common. They are all shaped by particular sets of beliefs; and they all cultivate distinct impulses and behaviours - usually fitting the expectations and needs of members.

Now let us return to the question I posed at the beginning of this essay. Is human aggression and the impulse to fight wars an intrinsic part of being human? Or is it more likely to be the shared cultural characteristic of a particular group?

At the risk of offending half the population I am opting for the latter. The class I am pointing to comprises roughly 49 per cent of humanity. It is the male genus. There will always be a few individual exceptions. But, by and large, wars are conceived, overseen and fought by men who are excited by other men. This is not simply a statistical fact. Pluck and bravery remain an early part of male conditioning - aggression imbuing the adult male psyche as toughness and fraternal courage.

Before my male readers become apoplectic and leap to collective outrage, let me set this proposition in a more granular context. That of design. It matters little what aspect of public and private life we choose to examine. Research overwhelmingly shows that we live in a world designed by men for men. In that world merit is a myth and the default design bias is male.

From orchestral auditions and job promotion to urban transportation, algorithms, medicinal doses, medical diagnoses, fashion, disaster management, government policy, public toilets - even the language we use on a daily basis - the majority of objects, places, spaces, strategies and processes we use have been designed by men and are biased towards men, with scant regard paid to the needs of the female gender. The lives and experiences of men have been taken to represent humanity as a whole. They are the default.

As Simone de Beauvoir said: Representation of the world, like the world itself, is the work of men; they describe it from their own point of view, which they confuse with the absolute truth. [1]

How does all of this relate to the issue of aggression, and the urgent need to attenuate our primitive fascination with war? Is bellicosity, and the urge to manufacture more destructive weaponry, primarily a cultural impulse to be found (not exclusively, but predominantly) in the male population? If so how should we begin to design for a world in which aggression becomes less valued than empathy, for example?

Over the centuries war has gradually lost all purpose. Today it makes absolutely no sense - even when all else has failed. War is costly (financially and psychologically) and provides no benefits to society - it does not guarantee freedom, prosperity, or even future peace. On the contrary its legacy is social dislocation, the loss of innocent life, environmental destruction, and moral bankruptcy.

Most modern military leaders, with few exceptions, acknowledge there are no longer any advantages to be gained from aggression of this kind - not from regime change, and certainly not from invasion and occupation. Rape and pillage are crimes against humanity while the costs of war - including dispossession, humiliation, and trauma, simply generate resentment and further provocation.

Besides, the amount we spend on preparing for wars, fighting them, and dealing with the devastation caused by war, could mitigate climate change, eliminate poverty, and provide free education and healthcare for every person on the planet many times over.

So how should we go about designing a world in which war is largely eliminated? If it is not in our nature to go to war, but only a default cultural mechanism within one sector of the society, then surely the way is clear for a leap of consciousness in how we evolve without resorting to aggressive behaviour. The first step might be to elect many more women into positions of power.

In that respect it will be instructive to keep a close eye on pioneers like Jacinda Adern in New Zealand, Sanna Marin in Finland, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortex in the US. Will their presence lead to more gender-neutral public policies? And, if so, will they counteract the inherent bias for aggression and war-mongering, which warriors past and present insist is simply human nature? Or will they, too, submit to conventional wisdom - that aggression and war is an innate part of what it means to be human?

 

[1] Further examples of male bias and their effects can be found in Caroline Criado-Perez's recent book, Invisible Women: Exposing data bias in a world designed for men, published by Random House, 2019.

Not Just Another New Year Resolution

Ah yes. The beginning of another year. The time for a New Year resolution. But all is not well. I am sitting in my study pondering why I am less optimistic about the immediate future for humanity than at any other time. It could be my advancing years of course. But let us imagine for a few moments that something else, less personal and more universal perhaps, hangs fire. What is that? And what is it trying to tell us? Will the world end with a bang or a whimper?

Every day, during breakfast, my first task is to review the latest news - usually from a variety of sources. This morning I awoke to the hilarious headline that our rogue royals - Prince Harry and his wife Meghan - want to discard their royal status. The thought of an abdication, 78 years after the last one, brought a chuckle. I nearly choked on my croissant. It shows exceptionally good sense from a couple in the entitled class. Who in their right mind would want to be a part of such a circus anyway - unless it were to get some kind of covert pleasure from airing your dirty linen and mad family capers in public via a Netflix special? 

A Ukrainian commercial jet was shot down killing all those on board. The US immediately blamed Iran before Iran eventually admitted culpability and then blamed the US. No surprise there, in spite of a hint of something more covert and sinister going on in terms of the context. The bushfires continue to ravage Australia, accompanied by happy-clapper politicians frothing at the mouth while digging themselves ever deeper into a bottomless pit of climate denial. One third of adults living in Hong Kong report symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. A female senior executive from the Murdoch press confessed to the misinformation and lies routinely fed to Australian citizens in her letter of resignation. Meanwhile, in the US, the House of Representatives voted to curb Presidential powers to take military action without the support of Congress. A non-binding resolution, so effectively a paper tiger... 

There were the usual whines of a dying empire in the form of tweets from Donald Trump. Quite fascinating in a bizarre kind of way - a warped narcissism trying to distract and direct our attention to other, less important, issues... There was sport of course. Entertainment too, including Ricky Gervais’s scorn-laden performance at the Golden Globes. But that was that. 

Although I sifted through several online news sources, I could find no deeper inquiry or questions into anything of any consequence. Every bit of news seems to be normalized. Sanitized. Abbreviated and scrubbed clean for our increasingly scant attention spans. Illuminating if you are in an induced coma perhaps, which many of us seem to be. 

It is probably apparent from this description of my daily routine that I do not much like the world we have made, nor the media's theatrical malaise in the way it renders the state of the world. It revels in overreaction and hype - routinely conjuring momentous ballyhoo from scraps of trivia and choreographed scandals in a tortured non-language that seeks only to shock or amuse. Tittle-tattle and expose has replaced real news. So-called investigative journalism barely punctures the surface. As for the world itself, it lacks the calm optimism, the expectation of a sustained peace and civility, as well as the promise of a better future for more people, most of us believed would surely follow the end of the second world war. 

Around 70-85 million people perished in that deadliest of military conflicts. Yet almost nothing those bravely naïve souls fought for remains intact today. That which is left vanishes by the day. We are not sufficiently attentive, nor yet particularly alarmed, concerning that which we are so intent on destroying.

Australia is spending $500M to upgrade the War Memorial in Canberra. Yet all that those combatants fought for - freedom, prosperity, and the Australian way of life - which they themselves would surely regard as their true commemoration, is under attack. While federal government bunglers offer us their thoughts and prayers, it is left to private citizens to fund the help so desperately needed to deal with the current firestorms. Political dithering in this situation is contemptible and also beyond comprehension. As Australia burns I can imagine the dead asking what on earth they fought for all those years ago. Their sacrifice would seem hollow. If we truly believe their aim was to see a grand monument, housing a museum, in the capital, we are fooling ourselves.

The clues as to why we should be so deluded are hidden in full view. Surface has become content. Trivia is awarded a gravitas it does not deserve. Disconnection and separation have become our practice. Economic growth our myopic panacea and our long-term obsession. We behave like most other mammals. But the effects of our incredible inventiveness reveal us to be barely more conscious than apes playing with fire.

It troubles me that those with slightly more confidence, or perhaps born with a dash more guile than the norm, are able to bully, buy and charm their way into positions of power. It used to be called leadership. We no longer know what leadership means. The purity and vocational nature of leading has been defiled by (mostly male) sociopaths around the world who brazenly serve their own best interests. Those few individuals who are able to sustain a semblance of personal integrity are marginalized or scorned. Either way they cannot fight deep-seated corruption in a system that, intuitively and so rapidly, detects any kind of deviant moral impulse and moves instantly to neutralize it. 

It concerns me that we are addicted to material possessions, to the extent that an unbroken cycle of desire and consumption prevents any sane reinvention of obsolete business models and practices. Advertising has become the pervasive Pied Piper we follow in a sort of mesmerized fervor. If we are unhappy, then we must buy more stuff. Continue with this unending dans macabre. Buy, buy, buy. That is the only advice we hear. But marketing-induced mania must inevitably take a toll. We are depleting the world of its incomparable treasures, while fewer and fewer people benefit from what should be our common wealth. And we are actually unhappier. Dissatisfied, fearful, and feeling more unfulfilled than ever.

With 7.7 billion people on the planet all seeking a higher quality of life it should come as no surprise that our most life-critical systems are at risk of collapse. We have put so much CO2 into the atmosphere, destroyed the soil with our chemicals, polluted the oceans with plastics, and killed so many other species, that we have become the agents for our own imminent extinction. Our only recourse is to blame each other for this situation. But blaming others is counterproductive and leads to more and more lonely, anxious and depressed individuals. And the solution to all of that? Listen to the tunes of the Pied Piper. They tell us to buy more stuff. You will be happy, they pledge. Except we are not. Joy seems even more elusive. And yet, like the hypnotic charm of the Piper's tunes, the cycle of desire and consumption, a prison of our own invention, becomes ever more ingrained.

It is demoralizing to think that human nature holds us in a cognitive gridlock from which escape seems improbable. Our animal-like response to confrontation of any kind is to strike out first and to ask questions later. Indeed, these days, old empires delight in declaring their self-righteousness, while committing unspeakable atrocities as they force themselves on others, extorting untold suffering and destruction in the process. What used to be totally unacceptable - in the form of preemptive violence, an utter disdain for the rule of law, a lack of compassion, keeping citizens compliant through the use of lies and propaganda to justify any immoral act - has somehow become acceptable. Indeed expected. How did we lose our humanity in this manner? Money. Envy. Greed.

I am saddened by the amount of money we spend on wars and conflict as well as by our seeming inability to link that budget with environmental damage. The enormous cost of the military machine in the US alone gives the lie to claims that dealing with the climate crisis is unaffordable. For example, around 54 percent of all federal discretionary spending in the US, a total of $600 billion, is spent on war-related activities and the production of weapons. That is eight times the amount spent on education. The results are too dire to dwell on them for long. The burden too heavy for any single individual to carry in their mind.

Above all I am anxious about the future my children and grandchildren will inherit. What work will be available for them? How will they remain motivated and positive in an era of sterility, suppression and consent, if that political future cannot be avoided? How will their lives be changed under constant surveillance from the ruling powers? Will the smart robots that run society be kind to them? Will the natural world regenerate before human numbers fall to what they were the year I was born? Around 2.3 billion people...

Nobody knows. The only thing we can be certain about is that structural economic, political and social change is now much more of an imperative than at any other time in human history. 

I do not normally make New Year resolutions. But if I did, my resolution for 2020 would focus on just one principle: Hope. Hope is everything. We must never stop dreaming. Never give in to lies. We must always act in the knowledge that anything is possible. 

Unlike most commentators I believe increasing civil disobedience and community activism, calling out the truth to corrupt powers, and sharing resources for a mindful uprising, will be the inevitable consequence of a world dynamic and world-system that no longer works for the benefit of the human family. If it feels as though our world is spinning out of control it is because it is. Today our actions continue to invite more pain. We see it everywhere we turn. But perhaps more torment is what we need in order for ordinary citizens to wake up to the realities we ourselves have encouraged, and in which we have become complicit actors. 

There is still time to escape the seemingly inevitable. But we must really want a new world, as individuals and as a collection of societies, much more than maintaining old ways. That is the code for our survival and future prosperity. It must also be our resolve.

 

In Memoriam - Christmas 2019

For those who have died in the fires currently ravaging Australia, and for those brave souls who are fighting those firestorms.

The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy ~ Kalu Ndukwe Kalu

It really only struck me a few days ago how hopeless our situation actually is. I was having a late breakfast at my hotel in Melbourne, scanning the pages of the Bangkok Post. I had just spent 15 minutes on a live cross to a breakfast show in New Zealand speaking to a television audience about the enormous firestorms currently engulfing Australia, in addition to other global events that signify a grave deterioration in the conditions necessary for human life.

I am not sure whether I turned to the newspaper as light relief or to confirm my own biases. In any case I found almost every article, editorial, and advertisement reinforced normalcy. My deepest concerns about the future were not being contradicted - just reframed as a part of a pattern that could not possibly ruffle feathers or cause excessive anxiety. That, I venture to suggest, is part of the problem we face. Our narrative is enmeshed within business-as-usual.

We do not take kindly to imposed change. The thought of extinction is ridiculed or dismissed as inconceivable. Change of any kind inevitably sets off warning bells. It signifies loss, inviting dread and resistance. The thought of calling a temporary halt to our own economic growth in order that people a world away might benefit from a slightly higher quality of life is simply incomprehensible.

Preferring to hide in ignorance or history, where answers were always found to the problems of the day (even though many of them were shortsighted, unwise, and even barbaric) we continue to patch up the present as best we can, preoccupied by the repetitive and delusional routines from which we take comfort; all the while hoping that “she’ll be right”.

Commentators tell us to remain optimistic, ignoring the massive failure of imagination and emotional gridlock we suffer from. My own critics constantly tell me not to harp on the bad news, or to be so negative. This will only repel your audience. People need to hear good news, they insist, concerned about my state of mind. But what if business-as-usual, and even good news, which is there if we know where to look, just gets in the way of hearing a truth we need to hear. What if our nostalgia for normalcy is impeding the decisive actions we must take concerning the really, really, intolerably bad news?

The truth that hardly anyone dares utter is an unthinkable and unlivable reality. Our society is in a state of collapse - precipitated by a predatory disregard for nature and an inability to find an acceptable balance between economic sufficiency and human well-being. This is probably most evident in the abusive and divisive ways we treat each other. We are one species. Almost everything we cherish is under threat. Yet still we seem unable to escape the urge for self-destruction.

It is possible there is no way out of the mess we have made of the environment. Although there is a plethora of solutions available, we are not deploying them at the scale and speed necessary to avoid catastrophe. Advised to prepare for the worst by many leading scientists, we are not even up to that task.

In these circumstances it is difficult to refrain from deriding others, attacking their motives, drawing attention to their many shortcomings, and calling out their banality, incompetence, ideological leanings, or lack of courage for the situation in which we now find ourselves. But hate and derision are a part of the problem. Attacking others might fill us with a false sense of self-importance but it is pretentious and will ultimately make matters far worse.

We need all our energy to focus on how to get out of this mess. Censuring incumbent leaders for lacking the wisdom we ourselves could not muster if we were in their shoes is misguided and akin to the vituperative murmurings of a madman. Individuals are not to blame. Like us they are trapped in a prison of our own invention. It is called capitalism and it is killing us.

If we are to step back and look objectively at the causes for our contemporary predicament we can identify systemic flaws embedded within our shared worldview. Unfortunately, as has been pointed out to me on several occasions, some of these “flaws” (the instinct to compete, for example) are intrinsic to our nature. To which my response is emphatic: if we find it impossible to change these aspects of human nature, or at least to channel them to be less destructive, then we have already lost. In that case our destiny will, and deserves to be, extinction.

Right now, making this point on the evening television news would invite outrage - stirring up apprehension in those who cannot bring themselves to face such an outlandish proposition. It would be irresponsible. In any case, the media’s propensity to coat everything with honey, glossing over anything that smacks of an existential nature, would result in such a topic being normalized for mass consumption – by being placed amidst excerpts from the latest Marvel movie and yet another faux celebrity scandal.

Although some of the drivers of human behaviour etched into our shared worldview could constructively evolve into others, compassion and cooperation replacing hate and division perhaps, it is not simply these factors that are at fault, but the overarching narrative we use to design systems that then reify these values. The most insidious of these is materialism- explicitly the addictive cycle of desire and consumption to which we submit daily.

In 1945 the planet felt empty. Only 2 billion humans inhabited Earth. In the space of 75 years the population burgeoned to over 7 billion people – all seeking a better quality of life under the auspices of market capitalism. Unimaginable stress was put on systems essential for our mutual well-being and prosperity. Not designed to cope with such numbers they began to fail. Back then we barely noticed, distracted by our newly-acquired wealth and seduced by the power that wealth brings.

Unaware of potential consequences we were urged to follow the credo of economic growth. And we did – buying new goods and seeking novelty as though our lives depended on it. Our compulsion became pervasive. We threw away stuff with causal nonchalance as easy credit and inbuilt obsolescence conspired to replace the old with the new. Materialism spread to become a global faith.

Almost without noticing things started to go wrong. Aided and abetted by corporate media’s ability to generate indignation and outrage we found an easy target for our anger. We began to blame others for our predicament. Perhaps they did not look like us. Possibly they prayed to different gods, or just spoke an unfamiliar language. But the insidious nature of loathing quickly became socially corrosive. Fear turned to apprehension in the minds of individuals. Anxiety and depression quickly followed. Eager to hide our mental fragility we resorted to extra medication, junk food, alcohol – along with more financial debt. We tried everything. Nothing made us happy. Suicide rates continued to climb.

The illusion is perpetuated today through the manipulation of marketing. Our apprehension, envy and anxiety can be cured, we are told, just by consuming more and more stuff. Wealth will make us happy again. Happier than before. The reality is that increased spending has led to increased pressure on the systems that are now in a state of collapse.

Thus, the cycle of desire and consumption was born. It still intoxicates the human mind and deceives us into believing that materialism is a solution. Actually, it is the problem and there is no solution in sight. It is also the reason we should not blame individuals for our plight. That path gets us nowhere, exacerbating the destructive nature of the cycle, thus making our exit, if that is possible, even more difficult.

There are other equally destructive cycles that follow a similar course. Unending conflict and war leading to the further fracturing of humanity. An obsession with unrestrained economic growth resulting in environmental destruction. The tacit pact that allows wealth to translate into power and that eventually leads to a few individuals owning most of the world’s wealth.

None of these cycles are sustainable. They can all be traced back to an overarching narrative of self-righteousness and hubris that animates them. It is this narrative that must change.

We can do the easy stuff now. We can connect the dots between events and outcomes. We can experiment with a range of new prototypes. But there our ingenuity stops...

Only when, with great effort and persistence, we are able to put aside prejudices, stepping into different design ontologies to craft systems that work effectively for village farmers in the developing world as well as shareholders in our wealthiest nations, can we be assured of enduring. Why is that?

In order for these new systems to endure they will need to be generative and restorative. That is impracticable if we are unable to step into new epistemologies of understanding and to reframe what it means to be human. For that to happen we need to take a giant leap of consciousness: to see ourselves for who we are, and who we might become, in order to see the world differently.

I hazard to suggest that nurturing a generation possessing a self-generative consciousness is the next step in human evolution. But as I keep pointing out, and being shouted down, such a leap of consciousness depends upon human nature changing its most fundamental impulses, or at least redirecting them to more constructive ends.

This is the greatest challenge of our time. At this point anything else is a distraction. I am told repeatedly that it cannot be done. That human nature is what it is...

So, I can only resort to hope. But please do not ask me to inspire optimism every time I get up to speak or write an article. Do not plead with me to look on the bright side or to ignore science. I prefer to face the truth – even if that truth is an intensely agonising burden.

That said, I still believe we will eventually come to our senses. I do have faith in the young generation. And I do believe we will be wise enough to survive our own success. Eventually. But not tomorrow. I fear there is much pain and catastrophe to come before we feel compelled to act.

 

Tolerance in the Age of Stupid

I have striven not to laugh at human actions, not to weep at them, not to hate them, but to understand them - Baruch Spinoza, Tractatus Politicus, 1676

The burden of unbounded knowledge weighs heavily on those with open minds. Those trapped within a specific moral code express righteous indignation that their beliefs should be called into question by others who have swallowed the red pill of delusion.[1] It is far easier to make snide and abusive remarks in preference to engaging ideas that could question our very identity. This, I must explain, is human nature. It arises intuitively as we start to associate with those who share the same moral narrative. As soon as this morality of mind is embedded, we become blind to alternatives. Any conscious reasoning, or even empirical evidence, that challenges this moral compass we find disturbing. Often it becomes intolerable. Then we lash out.

A lack of tolerance in society is unfortunate at the best of times. These days it could impede any kind of civilisational security or development. Our self-righteous instincts, in combination with the habit of analyzing information in ways that confirm our inbuilt biases, frequently lead us into situations where alternatives are shut down before we have a chance to reflect on them deeply.

Intuition traps us in a comfortable moral stasis, allowing strategic reasoning to play only a subordinate role. When (or if) we finally admit strategic analysis to intrude on our emotions, it is usually limited to a cursory study from within a dualistic Cartesian container.[2] As soon as we uncover evidence that supports our predetermined views, we stop exploring and resist any further inquiry. We fool ourselves that we have found the truth.

A critical outcome of this lack of openness to pluralistic moral worlds, to a broader strategic inquiry, accounts for our current inability to find solutions to any number of paramount issues with sufficient ingenuity and gravitas. We seem to have landed in an emotional and cognitive gridlock - but fail to recognise that fact. Instead, we conclude the best way to make further progress is to persist with our present narrative, policies and behaviours - often with greater fervour.

This choice seems to be based on hubris: an assumption that human ingenuity allowed us to triumph over other species, conquer nature, and solve every adversity we ever encountered. In other words we feel we have reached a pinnacle of civilisational sophistication and invulnerability.

In such a context all other options - such as conscious evolution, avoiding used futures, adapting to unfamiliar circumstances, or adventuring into the unknown by design (unless we count returning to the moon, which is the flavour of the age once again) - become so irritating to our fragile psyche that we push them to one side in favour of a cautiously methodical maintenance of the status quo.

Any philosophical theory about the nature of knowing, including dualism of course, inevitably has far reaching effects on our understanding of reality. If taken as self-evident, it becomes the foundation on which all new knowledge is constructed. Moreover, through the use of a self-reinforcing vocabulary, the theory typically excludes other ways of knowing (equally valid epistemes and moral worlds) that might conflict with the inherent axioms of our current paradigm.

An example of this would be the two distinct impulses contained within the phrase conservative or progressive. In this case the language implies there can be no cross-over. It is impossible to be both conservative and progressive. The vocabulary confirms boundaries that must not, indeed cannot, be crossed. This is a false dilemma. Quite apart from using progressive solutions to advance conservative values, it would seem entirely feasible for an individual to be both progressive and conservative.[3]

Such theoretical frameworks rarely get questioned, despite their internal inconsistencies, inherent limitations and self-defeating consequences, yet they shape our existence. When they no longer work as intended, and we start to recognise that, a cognitive crisis occurs. Unable to break through a self-imposed threshold, we resort to repeating what we know ad nauseum, convinced that this will produce different results.[4]

There are several existing crises affecting our species where blind adherence to the status quo is being applied without challenge. The field that should concern us most in this regard is the wielding of power through politics, economics and production.

We know from quantum science that everything is interconnected, and that separation is an illusion. Politics, economics and production are complex and dynamic. Their entangled nature should defy any attempt at discrete analysis - and yet we mostly think of them in distinct compartments, with their own unique properties, and a limited number of intersecting elements.

At first there were a sufficient number of improvements to the quality of life for us not to question the use of dualistic logic from within a specific moral frame. In truth we tended not to notice the range of limitations and self-defeating consequences that economics and politics generated. We were happy to overlook these, put up with them, or complain vociferously about them when they started to impact us personally. But when flaws in any system become publicly noticeable, compliance quickly deteriorates in favour of more overt demonstrations of our displeasure.

This is now the situation with politics, economics and production. In politics pitiful levels of public discourse, prompted by biased media coverage and second-rate journalism, are met by a volatile mix of indifference and scorn from a public fed up with self-serving game playing. The unrelenting focus on patching up the present too, by relegating the future to a footnote, has captured the attention of the Greta generation worldwide.[5]

This also accounts for the escalation of activist intransigence, resulting in much civil disobedience, we are witnessing around the world. Even scientists are now endorsing mass civil disobedience to focus attention on the need for climate action. Beyond ideology, this rage is coming from a general public increasingly awake to the procrastination, opacity, and prejudicial practices, in addition to the use of strong-arm tactics and increased surveillance, used by so many governments today under the guise of securing law and order.

From China to the US and everywhere in between current political models lock us into an ideological gridlock of some form or other. This at a time when external ambiguity and volatility makes dualism and moral posturing look positively naïve and, frankly, crass.

In a world where our most life-critical systems have to cater for billions of people, moral intuition, dualism, and excessive compartmentalisation shut down any deeper inquiry in terms of unfamiliar dynamics, shifting needs and relationships, or changes to the status quo. In fact, these habits lock us into rigid win-lose structures where trade-offs, invariably confined to disconcertingly awkward compromises, attest to the primitive nature of the human condition.

This lack of intellectual sophistication and imagination has far-reaching consequences. It is the chief reason why democracy is in such a shambles. Moreover, we are complicit actors in the entire charade. Politically speaking, it prevents us from setting aside narrow partisan views. It restricts our ability to imagine anything other than the left-right structure that is at the heart of everything we take as gospel. It prevents us from calling for collective action on global issues without impulsively labelling this a form of socialist-inspired doctrinal regulation. For three or more years at a time it hands the power of the state to the whims of a single group - effectively dividing society along ideological fault lines. It also sustains the illusion that a system of elections, where every citizen gets the chance to vote for a conservative or a socialist party (or whatever labels happen to be in vogue) to represent their complex set of values, is the epitome of democracy. All things considered, how could that possibly be the case?

Corresponding beliefs have been carried over to economics and production. The essence of capitalism is simple: the use of capital investment to create new wealth, thus boosting affluence and lessening the likelihood of poverty. Originally virtuous, we have permitted avarice to warp practice to such an extent that capitalism now fulfils the needs of fewer and fewer people than ever before.

Social stratification encourages the concentration of wealth in fewer hands. This sustains inequalities between the ultra-wealthy and the average worker. It ignores merit, favouring private ownership over employment. It also allows a handful of large corporations to monopolise the healthcare, energy and food industries - where profits for a relatively small group of shareholders are routinely put ahead of social and community wellbeing.[6] But it gets worse...

In spite of the recent failures of market economies to address inequality, neoliberalism has dominated conventional thinking for the past half century. The interlocking policies of privatisation, lower taxes for business, deregulation, and greater power for shareholders, have intensified the one-sided nature of capitalism, yet made it even more pervasive.

Socialist forces, on the other hand, have been concerned to reframe society's views about prejudice, social identity, responsibility and freedom. And while their agenda certainly exposes the hard edge of capitalism, it fails to address how wealth and work can operate any differently in a modern society. No attempts to soften those hard edges - including the B-corp program, consciouscapitalism, natural capitalism, or the recent spruiking of a Green New Deal, do anything to alter the fact that capitalism now generates more misery than joy; more poverty than wealth.

There have been immense efforts by conservative economists to make capitalism appear inevitable, depicting any alternatives as sheer fantasy or fraught with complications. The reply from progressives has been trite and nostalgic. Seemingly unable to come to terms with the fact that Marx and Keynes, two of the most notable critics of capitalism, died decades ago, the economic imagination of left-wing scholars has remained stunted.

It is not as though there are no reasons for a more forensic examination of the system and its foibles. In recent years the capitalist system has started to fail without much help from critics. Rather than viable, widely shared prosperity, it has yielded wage stagnation, greater numbers of workers in privation, deepening inequality, immense household and sovereign debt, across-the-board crises in financial services, populist paroxysms, and the imminent breakdown of the planet's ecosystems.

It has also lost the confidence and trust we once lavishly bestowed on it. The global financial crisis of 2008, together with the previously unthinkable government actions that brought that episode to a halt, discredited two basic neoliberal orthodoxies: that capitalism cannot fail, and that governments cannot (should not) intervene to change how the economy works.[7]

Following that event too many people began to realise that the system only worked for people with wealth. This should have been a stake through the heart of capitalism. But like a zombie it somehow continued to stagger on. Meanwhile the underlying structural deficiencies in the banking system still remain unresolved.[8]

At least there is now grudging acknowledgement from many quarters that a different kind of economy is needed: one that is fairer, more inclusive, less exploitative, and less damaging, both to society and the planet. If we are to imagine a new kind of economics more suited to our times it will need to deal with the problems of ownership and power. It should avoid being grounded in any single ideology. It should be redesigned from first principles. And it should ideally transcend left-right dualism.

In conversations I have conducted with a range of economists over the years there seems to be support for a new type of economy - but with conditions. The new system would ideally:

• Bring real benefits - material, financial and psychological - to all stratas of society (inevitably there is always some dispute as to what that actually means)
• Offer a satisfactory way of democratising economic power - preferably so that it is held by everyone, just as political power is held by everyone (in theory) in a healthy democracy.

The key concept of inclusive ownership, which would presumably underpin any radical redistribution of economic power, is by no means new. Economic democratisation has been debated by a number of think-tanks, particularly the New Economic Forum in the UK, for many years. For those with socialist leanings it is easy to see how a compelling business and social impact case can be made for such a revolution.[9] It is far less clear to the business establishment and high wealth individuals.

One can argue that allowing employees to take a stake in every company, co-operatives to flourish, and city counsellors to reshape their economies in favour of local needs, are desirable and easy to enact. Without some kind of transformation the increasing inequality of economic power could make democracy itself unworkable.

Besides, if we really believe in the principles of democracy, and want to continue living in democratic societies, giving communities the responsibility for shaping their local economy makes a great deal of sense. It could also help rejuvenate the civic impulse to engage in political decision-making. Citizens are likely to feel less frustrated and indifferent if they are included in the economic choices that affect their lives.

The main stumbling block would be for these proposals to be cast and viewed from within orthodox ideological battle lines - for the reasons mentioned at the beginning of this essay. They must be seen to transcend such polarities in fact.

Real economic democracy is about eliminating exploitation through the redistribution of wealth and income. But it is also about the redistribution of power and control. This is no simple matter. It entails reimagining key relationships: above all between capitalism and the nation state, between workers and employers, between local and global economies and, more profoundly, between those with economic assets and those without.

Putting social imperatives before commercial goals is the most revolutionary facet of such a proposal. Yet if we are to improve how capitalism works, in ways that are emotionally and logically agreeable, as well as unconstrained by conventional ideologies, reforms like these need to be desired, embraced, and driven by both employees and consumers. While central governments would invariably have a role in that, it could never be one of control.

All of this implies economic democracy cannot be imposed and will possibly be slow in coming. As tangible proof that sound economic decisions can be based on more than neoliberal ideals, it would need to gain broad acceptance from the community. Frankly, that will not be easily from a business establishment whose moral world has been shaped by laissez-faire capitalism and ensnared by its exploitative economic practices. For a century or more we have been taught that the raison-d'etre of business is profits and share prices. These trump all other measures. As a consequence shared wealth is anathema to most corporations. We can expect them to resist any attempt to redeploy power away from institutional investors, shareholders, and management towards all stakeholders as a collective.

It does not have to be that way of course. Corporations are extraordinary social institutions, immense powerhouses for coordinating productive capacity across an extensive network of individual and institutional relationships. There is no sacrosanct law about who should control a company, how it should operate, or who should have a claim to its surplus. Nor is there anything preordained about existing, alarmingly unfair, distributions of power and reward within them. There is actually nothing to stop us reinventing the corporation, or organising it differently, if that is what we want.

If we allow dualism to prevail, any conversation will revert to a debate between collective or private control, in much the same way politics is reduced to egalitarianism or oligarchy. There is little doubt that private dominion and oligarchy would win such a debate given their current wealth and influence. But this would be to the detriment of society as a whole and possibly unsustainable in the long term.

Setting aside dualistic logic in favour of a more all-encompassing inquiry is feasible – though with a great deal of effort. But our only real opportunity for the political and economic reforms we have examined here will depend on jettisoning any static ideological morality. Cultural psychologists will maintain that is an impossible task. It would certainly require a degree of tolerance for sundry moral norms, together with an empathy for others, both of which elude us today.

In the long run there are only two questions that will determine the future for our species: Are we wise enough (smart enough) to survive our own success? And, if so, How can we all get along better? These are deceptively down-to-earth questions. Unfortunately they have no easy answers.

 

[1] A reference to The Matrix movie trilogy in which the protagonist Neo is given the choice of taking a red pill, which will disconnect him from the matrix, or a blue pill where his consciousness will return to the hallucination in which nearly all humans spend their conscious existence. Neo swallows the red pill and the matrix dissolves around him.

[2] An oft-quoted example of dualism is the separation of mind and body. Mind-body duality represents the metaphysical proposition that mind is separate from the body and that each has its own essential nature. Unsurprisingly this philosophy infects everything we do today.

[3] Thus the literal meaning of the term conservative, one intent on conserving whatever is good for humanity, is ruled to hold an opposing view to that of a progressive - even though within the context of a topic such as climate change, for example, conservation (of the natural environment) could be considered the most progressive form of action.

[4] Coincidentally this condition of extreme irrationality is what psychologists refer to as insanity.

[5] Although most media attention has been given to Greta Thunberg, other equally significant youth activists include Xiye Bastida, Jerome Foster II,Alexandria Villaseñor, Haven Coleman, Kallan Benson, Jamie Margolin, Isra Hirsi, Vic Barrett and Xiuhtezcatl Martinez (US), John Paul Jose (India), Luisa Neubauer (Germany), Holly Gillibrand (Scotland), David Wicker (Italy), Lilly Platt (The Netherlands), Saoi O’Connor (Ireland), Leah Namugerwa (Uganda), Anuna De Wever (Belgium), Zel Whiting (Australia), Sohanur Rahman (Bangladesh), Nathalie Hoang (Tahiti), Brishti and Ujan (India), Surendra Shakya (Nepal), Krishna Ariola (Philippines), Kaisanan Ahuan (Taiwan), Zhao Jiaxin and Howey Ou (China), and Eyal Weintraub (Argentina).

[6] As surface water becomes more scarce and more expensive, and the value of groundwater increases, underground aquifers are becoming the new frontline in the battle for control of water resources. Large agricultural investment corporations are buying up large tracts of land anticipating the price of water will increase exponentially in the future. In many countries there is no limit to how much water one company can control and the acquisition of large volumes of groundwater licences has many concerned the resource is not being adequately protected. Meanwhile Peter Brabeck-Letmathe, Chairman Emeritus of Nestlé that boasts worldwide sales of $7.7 billion in bottled water every year, maintains a view that access to water is not necessarily a human right.

[7] I hesitate to suggest that government action in 2008 was totally beneficial. Indeed John B Taylor, a professor of economics at Stanford University does not rule out government itself as a major culprit. His research shows that government actions and interventions, not any inherent failure or instability of the private economy, caused, prolonged and dramatically worsened the crisis.

[8] There is even a darker side to this analysis however - one infrequently discussed or understood. As I pointed out in my book, The Five Literacies of Global Leadership, our most troubling issues are aggravated by the easy elevation of those exhibiting sociopathic behaviours into leadership positions. Those who lack empathy are able to do whatever it takes to make the most money. Studies have shown that immense wealth kills empathy and money translates directly into political power. It is no surprise that we now find ourselves ruled by sociopaths.

[9] Bernie Sanders recently proposed a plan to transform and democratise economic and political rights by fundamentally rewiring ownership and control of corporate America as part of his campaign for the Presidency. Under his proposal companies would be required to share corporate wealth with their workers, transferring up to 20% of total stock over a decade to democratic employee ownership funds. The monopoly on voting rights that private external shareholders and their financial intermediaries have benefited from would be ended; employees would be guaranteed the right to vote on corporate decision-making at work, and have a voice in setting their pay, regardless of the kind or size of company or firm they work for. Corporate boards would be democratised, with at least 45% of the board of directors in any large corporation directly elected by the firm’s workers. And the outrageous power of asset management – whose actions have done so much to accelerate the climate crisis by continuing to invest heavily in fossil fuel companies – would be ended. Asset managers would be banned from voting on other people’s money – the collective savings of millions of ordinary workers – unless following clear instructions from the savers.

 

Sorry for the Inconvenience....

Sorry for the Inconvenience... I am just trying to imagine a better, more affluent yet transparent, world. One that works for everyone. I know that does not necessarily suit some people. Particularly those who are content with the way things are.

The utopian mind is trapped, along with capitalism and industrialism, in a self-reflective, but ultimately disconnected state, obsessed with the need for material growth. Initially this mindset brought some of us great wealth. Generally speaking improved health and wellbeing followed. But now the same mindset has turned toxic. The context is changing but we are not keeping pace. In fact we have become addicted to our own deceits and are blind to the consequences.

We are assured by advertising gurus and manufacturers that the never-ending spiral of consumption and desire is bound to make us happy - eventually. If we are downcast then spend a little money on the latest iPhone and happiness will be restored. Feeling lonely? Treat yourself to a Caribbean cruise or a long weekend in Bali. You will feel much better - for a while at least.

Sorry for the inconvenience. I suspect we are deceiving ourselves. The essential costs of living, such as mortgage payments, gas, electricity, and food, which were originally the reason we laboured in exchange for money, no longer excites us. It is now burdensome. The fact is most of us no longer want to work long hours, in repetitive jobs, that have few benefits, other than a pay cheque each month. We remain disengaged and disinterested. The real motivation for turning up to work is our craving for a stream of new stuff. Novel gadgets and little luxuries, items we do not actually need, driven to some extent by envy, fuels such avarice. This impulse has assumed dominion over us. Little by little it devours everything else we once valued - including simple joys such as talking with friends, sharing a meal, walking together in the shade of a forest. Even our sense of belonging.

Given the identity crisis this is causing, particularly among the young - the increasing rates of anxiety and depression, suicide, narcissism and antisocial behaviours psychologists are dealing with today - perhaps we could redesign our worldview and its impulses from first principles, putting life and everything that sustains it, before everything else.

Sorry for the inconvenience. I do not mean to shout. I am simply trying to get your attention. As we watch coral reefs die, entire species become extinct, extreme weather events become more common, and glaciers melt, world leaders convene to discuss the crisis, nod their heads in sage agreement that something must be done. Then sit on their hands.

Perhaps they believe the science is wrong, or dismiss it as a socialist conspiracy. Possibly they feel we have left it too late to do anything much anyway and that any action from them will lose them votes. They might believe new technologies will come to our rescue, saving humanity in the nick of time like the best Hollywood blockbuster. Or perhaps they have so much faith in capitalism that they assume the huge amounts of capital needed to decarbonise the economy will eventually be coughed up by others when there are no other options.

Sorry for the inconvenience. But waiting for more information before acting is a folly when your home is burning. During the past decade venture capitalists have poured billions of dollars into disrupting the hotel, taxi, office-space and restaurant industries. Well done them. They became much wealthier. Governments on the other hand targeted fiscal parochialism, their myopic eyes glued to opinion polls and the next election. Meanwhile the climate continues to get warmer and extreme weather events are now more frequent. Some people presume the big energy firms will take the lead. Don't hold your breath. The odds are against that happening. These firms do not have the will power nor the means to disrupt their orthodox business models.

Given rising levels of anxiety among the general population perhaps we should start one or more government-sponsored, privately financed and managed, Climate Action Funds. Global heating mitigation and adaptation efforts can only succeed if and when ordinary citizens around the world are given the opportunity to engage with the issues. And giving the public a chance to buy in, literally, might hasten this process.

Sorry for the inconvenience. I really am trying to get you to think more deeply. Surely not the climate crisis again? Not this time. AI? No. Political corruption? Not exactly. Human rights then? Well, sort of. It's actually a bit of everything you see. I am concerned that we are not awake to the consequences of collective human action.

Everything is interconnected. We know this from quantum science, indigenous wisdom, and the more esoteric spiritual conditions. This means everything we do, every action we take, contributes to the world operating effectively, and as intended - or not!

When I was born there were fewer than 2 billion people on the planet. It felt empty. Today there are more than 7.6 billion of us - all needing fresh air, potable water, nutritious food, empathy, friendship and love. Obviously we would be better off without war and inequity. But the fact is we designed our most life-critical systems to be what they are and to deliver precisely what they produce. If we do not like the results we can redesign them. In fact we will have to do that anyway, because so many of them are under stress and are failing the majority of humans.

For example, democracy is in a shambles. Although we pretend everything is satisfactory, democracy is not working as it should anywhere in the world. Indeed the only governance model that comes close to delivering what its architects intended, global economic power through domestic unity, is the modern Chinese political system. Many will condemn me for saying as such. After all, we are supposed to believe that China is the enemy and that the West has a moral advantage. Inclusive, unbiased analysis, does not validate such a claim.

Failures in some other systems are less contentious. Soils are losing their organic richness owing to the excessive use of fertilisers and pesticides. Aquifers and rivers are poisoned. Industrial forms of agriculture can no longer guarantee food security. Marine stocks are collapsing through over fishing. Elsewhere, the socio-political and cultural theories we use for learning, health, journalism, foreign aid, and economic justice, to name just a few, are in urgent need of review.

Sorry for the inconvenience. But we need always to seek the truth. Some people like to blame increasing population numbers for what is becoming a scar on human civilisation. But that is only partly true. It is not a matter of numbers. Indeed, although the population is still increasing in absolute terms, fertility rates have been in dramatic decline worldwide for well over a decade.

The real culprit is the stories we tell each other about who we are, what is important, and what it means to be human. The dominant narrative concerning the human condition is increasingly at odds with the optimal criteria for a beneficial and abundant future.

Sorry for the inconvenience. Perhaps we should pay more attention to the root causes underlying why so many things appear not to be working for everyone. Perhaps we should be redesigning these systems from first principles - expressing clearly what we expect them to deliver.

If all of that seems reasonable we should put more effort into respecting and educating women so that they can take an equal part in shaping our society.

Given how technology is transforming the world of work, we should revise the rationale for schooling and what we should expect from graduates.

We should switch from the apparatus of state governance to a mix of cities and regenerative regional activity, cooperating with each other at a local level in terms of food production, the sharing of energy, and the development of community ecologies.

We should use military budgets, aimed purely at causing destruction, to help regenerate those natural and social ecosystems damaged through war and conflict.

We should also tread more lightly and responsibly on the Earth, contracting the economic aspirations in more developed nations, so that badly needed growth becomes easier in less developed lands.  

Sorry for the inconvenience. Some readers will assume that I am a rabid socialist. I am not. I am not against business making a profit - so long as the community and the environment also benefit. I am not against prosperity or a thriving economy - so long as everyone wins. I am not against the accrual of individual wealth - so long as it is achieved through personal effort and does not disadvantage others less fortunate. I am not against an individual's belief in a deity, or even the tooth fairy come to that - so long as I am not a target for their personal superstitions and delusions.

Sorry for the inconvenience. It is just that I cannot abide ignorance. And while stupidity can be forgiven, I think some of us may have forgotten what it means to be human.

Avoiding Economic Collapse

As we enter the final quarter of 2019 the world economic outlook remains sluggish. Increasingly, another financial crash looks likely. This should not come as a surprise. It is entirely predictable.

Since the crash of 2008, we have ignored the possibilities for fiscal reform of any kind, carrying on business-as-usual like nothing needs to change. Yet conditions are far worse now than they were in 2008. And while our knowledge is greater, wisdom still eludes us. Institutional and individual greed is as rampant as before. Yet none of the fundamentals of the global economy have been modified in any way, shape or form.

The principal driver of the industrial economy - an unrelenting cycle of desire and consumption, stimulated by a quest for growth with energy generated from coal, oil, and gas - shows few signs of abating. We are addicted to materialism, yearning for more and more stuff in the hope it will make us happy. Governments fixate on delivering a surplus even as their economies stagnate. But personal anxieties only seem to deepen.

Meanwhile, early impacts from global heating, together with government dithering, have yet to be factored into our consumer-driven society.

Official responses have been typically orthodox and tardy. Current interest rates are trending to zero. Debt levels are going through the roof. Bond yields have inverted. Monetary policy is increasingly political. Cash is hoarded in preference to being invested. Unemployment levels remain high. US-China tensions are damaging international trade, sanctions are ramping up tensions in the Middle East, and we still have the uncertain joys of Brexit to look forward to. What could possibly go wrong?

Neoliberal orthodoxy suggests we simply ride out the current cycle, there being no other recourse. This is how a modern economy works, so we had better get used to it. But with economic populism and protectionism on the rise, it is surely time to re-evaluate this framework - particularly in terms of how it might be tuned to narrow the gap between the ultra-wealthy and the poor, so as to meet the needs of the human family more effectively.

It is also time to broaden our comprehension beyond the field of economics. In so doing we should aim to situate the global economy as one critical element in a much larger socio-political structure, whose role is to both define and validate a higher moral purpose.

But wait. This is an obstacle in itself. The utopian imagination seems to be trapped, along with capitalism and industrialism, in a one-way future consisting only of growth. The rise of libertarianism too, and the dogma of private ownership (accompanied by the erosion of public ownership) plays into the hands of an impending catastrophe. And capitalism is at the heart of this crisis.

If we are bold enough to evaluate the global economy from a social design perspective, tracing the evolutionary path of economics over the past century or so, we arrive at an alarming conclusion. The two most fundamental pillars of capitalism are culpable for most of the economic volatility we are encountering today. This will get worse if appropriate remedies are not taken soon.

Remove these constraints, however, and it becomes hypothetically possible to avoid many of today's most irksome social problems. But it also means facing up to two embarrassing truths:

1. The Illusion of Unlimited Growth

The promise of endless economic growth is a fantasy. Moreover, this particular fantasy is increasingly incompatible with the need to tackle the various emergencies facing our civilization - particularly the collapse of our most life-critical ecosystems, and the ingrained graft and corruption to be found in almost every country today.

Regrettably, the proposition that growth can be decoupled from material consumption is also absurd. We know from recent research that once a certain point is reached, the benefits of economic growth start to level off in terms of mortality, nutrition, education, health, and even happiness. But if growth no longer offers the benefits it once did and is actually becoming a blight on society instead, viable alternatives should be found and tested.

The first step, it seems to me, would be to ensure that growth is tailored to local conditions rather than being blindly accepted as a universal objective.

Given that energy from resources is used to manufacture the goods and services we all use, one key measure should probably be energy consumption. The state of Singapore, for example, uses around 271 gigajoules of energy per capita annually. Australians consume around 234 gigajoules. In truth, far less growth is desirable in those two countries than in Nigeria, for example, where consumption is around 30 gigajoules, or Bangladesh at around 9 gigajoules. Yet governments of all persuasions constantly crave higher and higher levels of GDP. This is sheer folly.

The progressively malignant effects of growth-based societal development have created a clear need to look at some different options. These would have to replace the persistent accumulation of money, and the pursuit of growth at any cost, which is at the core of today's neoliberal philosophy.

One possibility often canvassed, is a post-growth world-system that puts health, vitality and well-being - including everything required to sustain these - at the centre of human activity. Only when public outrage forces governments to balance parochial sufficiency with the needs of humanity as a whole will that kind of bold strategy be embraced. This problem is usually ignored or treated as an inevitable consequence of the way we choose to exist and interact.

The notion that continuous unfettered growth is unnecessary is a tough nut to crack. Requiring almost a spiritual conversion to accommodate such heresy, most orthodox economists dismiss such an idea as being either irresponsible or impossible.

If changing our beliefs about growth is fraught, acknowledging the validity of my second truth is perhaps even harder.

2. The Evil of Avoidable Inequality

Boosted by technological innovation and private sector investment, laissez-faire capitalism brought untold wealth to many nations, dragging social progress in its wake. It has since led to inequality on a massive scale. In spite of that, we still cling to the aspiration of becoming wealthier tomorrow than we were yesterday.

The origins of inequality can be traced back to private ownership which began to take root and flourish in Europe during the late 15th century and rapidly spread around the world. Land previously publicly owned began to be divided up into privately owned assets. This generated a system of economic stratification that benefitted owners over operatives.

It is inconceivable that the way we organize and manage the global economy is based on merit. There is no evidence to suggest those who possess wealth are more ingenious, smarter, or deserving than the rest of us. In any scheme designed to separate those who own the means of production, from those employed purely for their labour, inequality is almost guaranteed. As a result, the wealth generated in our society is increasingly and unfairly concentrated among a privileged few - a majority of these in the most developed nations.

This concentration means the 26 richest billionaires own as many assets as the 3.8 billion people who make up the poorest half of the human population. The personal fortune of Jeff Bezos, the owner of Amazon and the world's richest man, at around $112 billion is equivalent to the entire health budget for Ethiopia -  a country of 105 million people. Meanwhile, tax systems that put a high burden on the poor mean public services are underfunded, stretching the gap between rich and poor while fueling public anger.

Inequality of income and wealth is not good for anyone. Even Henry Ford understood that the consolidation of wealth and capital in so few hands was both economically inefficient and socially disruptive.

There is no doubt that growing inequality is one of the biggest potential challenges the world is facing. Solutions ultimately depend on the contraction of economies in the developed world, downscaling both production and consumption globally. We also need to consider putting a cap on the accumulation of individual wealth and regulating corporate pay and rewards, while optimising happiness, health and well-being through various non-consumptive means.

There is sufficient slack in all developed economies to pursue such a path. Consuming less, while devoting more time to art, music, family, nature, culture, and community, doesn't seem too bad a deal to me if it means reducing the stress on systems never intended to cope with the demands of 7.676 billion people.

Unsurprisingly people are angry about inequality and unfairness when they see an ever-larger slice of the cake going to the rich, while the poor are expected to survive an age of austerity in the best way they can. Opening our minds to reinventing the global economy from first principles, will not please everyone of course. As Mahatma Gandhi said: Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's need, but not every man's greed.

 

The Failure of Foresight

I am most commonly known for my work as a strategist. Others took it upon themselves to label me a futurist - considered to be a far more seminal profession. I am not sure what I did to deserve such a curse. And I certainly don't want it inscribed on my tombstone.

With the benefit of hindsight, a human life can be most aptly described as that brief moment between birth and death. If only we could prolong that brief moment... Some scientists, like Raymond Kurzweil, are trying to do just that of course.

Yesterday I was young. Today I am just a grumpy old man. But what next? Tomorrow I may choose to upload my mind onto a digital medium, before my physical body totally decays, so that anyone who so desires can experience my personal story in vivid detail - assuming their curiosity can overcome any morbid voyeuristic concerns of course.

I wonder if the future really will be like that? At my advancing age such speculation is immaterial. In any case I believe understanding the present in terms of the past is far more important than tripping out on a future we cannot be certain about until it morphs into the past. I am vexed, you see, not by the fact that the future is an illusion, but that the present passes so quickly. What I said just then is now past. It's weird isn't it? Do you agree?

So, let us turn our attention to the present day. It's a cliché that we live in an era of unprecedented disruption. Uncertainty, volatility and ambiguity prevail. But have you wondered why? I try to explain it as an inevitable consequence of the transition between industrial models, treaties and practices that have stopped working, and a new age.

We are experiencing this transition as a tsunami of chaotic and unpredictable events. It is tempting to point to machine intelligence, social unrest, intensifying civil disobedience, the US-China trade rivalry, religious fundamentalism of all kinds, and even Donald Trump, as the major cause for our discomfort. But it is actually more fundamental in nature. For this is a crisis of consciousness - a breakdown in our appreciation of what it means to be human, and the mindless prolongation of the cycle of desire and consumption that is at the core of how modern society works.

The desires of 7.6 billion people all wanting more and more stuff puts pressure on some of our most life-critical systems that then begin to fail. Meanwhile innate competitive behaviour opens up cultural divisions and social rifts where we blame anyone and everyone who is not like us. Eventually we yield to increased levels of anxiety, depression, and a range of other mental health problems. Suicide rates go through the roof. In the final analysis we feel lost and pessimistic. And so, we resort to buying more stuff in the hope that this will make us happy - for that is what the marketing guys tell us. Thus, the cycle is perpetuated, and the despair deepens.

There are at least three factors amplifying the levels of discomfort we are feeling, and they reinforce each other:

1. The doctrine of assumptions and beliefs we share (our worldview) has become infused with a moral impulse based on monetizing literally anything that moves - from the forests and the oceans to the air we breathe. This manifests as a world-system driven by greed and envy.
2. Many new business models, largely the product of a surveillance capitalism, where the usual tensions between capital and labour have been replaced by frictions between the observers and the observed, are deliberately designed to generate fear, envy, division and outrage.
3. As little more than innovative apes, our cognitive capacity hovers just below the threshold needed to solve the existential problems we ourselves have created. At the same time, we have invented a machine intelligence that is fast outstripping our own ability to think and to act. This leaves us even more stranded in a vulnerable limbo.

Because of all the confusion, ambiguity, and conflicting narratives, we find ourselves caught between a plutocratic status quo - with its unhealthy and unsustainable addiction to business-as-usual - and a world of open cooperation where knowledge could potentially be used to effect generative, second-order change, at scale, ultimately resolving most of the problems those adhering to the status quo choose to ignore, or simply hope will go away.

The undetected pattern that makes most sense in this context arises from the effects of a distinctive metaphysical framework - adesign ontology that enabled the industrial revolution to gain traction and bought many of us wealth beyond our wildest dreams. This framework - embracing Western cosmology, scientific realism, Cartesian logic and, more recently, neoliberal political and economic theory - has now totally subsumed most other cultural mindsets.

Dominant in today's world it influences how we think, how we interpret events, how we shape our relationships with each other (and with the planet), how we bring a sense of orderliness to our affairs, and how we take, or avoid taking, action. Because this design ontology has become a cancer in our global society, infecting our worldview with its toxicity, the world-system we take for granted is in a state of collapse. When both markets and governments fail to provide for the needs of society, it is hardly surprising we are feeling so overwhelmed by the chaos in our lives.

While disruption can certainly be distressing, it is not without value. In terms of human development, the uncertainty within disruption offers us a chance to evolve a more equitable worldview - one that serves all of humanity. But we can only take advantage of that opportunity by positioning problems in a broader evolutionary context - or what I refer to as the expanded now.

The expanded now is a simple model that allows us to examine the human condition by embracing ambient intelligence from the deep past as well as the deep future, while making sense of both in terms of the present. Permit me to give you an example.

The most profound question facing humanity is whether we are smart enough, and wise enough, to survive our own undoubted success. This question troubled me so much that I established the Centre for the Future to interrogate systems that are failing us, design a series of experiments to shed light on how best to go about reinventing those systems, or at least removing constraints that are causing them to behave in a manner no longer conducive to human health and well-being, and prototype the most feasible new designs arising from within new paradigms of thought.

Our first project was an inquiry into the exercise of political power and governance. Given that democracy is not working as it should anywhere in the world today we wanted to find out if representative democracy was even applicable in such a complex multilateral world.

In order to understand the question, we invited a range of insights from trusted sources around the world, venturing back in time to the Peace of Westphalia (1648) and analysing the hijacking of state sovereignty by Adam Smith's "invisible hand" of industrial capitalism a little over a century later.

During our investigation we identified 17 potential flaws in the Westminster model - the source code for most so-called democracies today. We then used a proprietary algorithm to pinpoint how a more engaging form of democratic citizenship might be introduced. Finally, we envisaged how a Steve Jobs, or an Elon Musk would have gone about the task of creating a user experience that was dependable, engaging, secure, and instantly accessible to anyone with a smartphone.

The outcome was a blockchain-enabled voting platform and social movement we call MiVote. Still under development, MiVote offers voters a real-time information and educational platform - allowing them to choose from a range of policy options, thus avoiding the binary ideological trap - just one of many factors turning people off politics as it is practiced. 

The basics of MiVote were tested in the recent Indian elections and will feature prominently for the first time in the next Australian federal election. This is an uncomplicated example of how foresight re-envisaged can be used to reinvent a system, even such a venerable one as democracy, when it is failing us. There is no reason to assume the same method cannot be used to revitalise or reinvent similarly revered systems. Indeed, we are attempting to do just that with our next project aimed at getting military organisations to wage peace rather than war.

From my perspective the field of foresight has failed to make a dent on the world-system. Incumbent leaders habitually make decisions, craft policies, and interpret events, without so much as an inkling regarding future consequences. We often blame them for not accessing futures methods. But the fault is ours too. We have condoned, and even encouraged, an aura of expertise around our work that is intimidating. We distrust forecasts - in spite of this being the one futures "product" most people instantly understand. The tendency to advocate foresight as exceptional is also regrettable. Outside of academia it certainly hasn't helped our cause or won us many friends. Meanwhile we have become complacent and now find ourselves isolated in a prison of our own invention.

It doesn't have to be that way. If we're to become more influential in helping to effect societal change we must find pragmatic ways of engaging with one another and with our various institutions. It might actually require a clean break from our past, and from our more abstract inclinations, in order to do that.

In my early years I was a professional composer and conductor. Music was my passion from the age of five. I was a pioneer in the use of the computer to generate sound, and one of a handful of composers known for a genre called, somewhat disparagingly, the new complexity.

Then, in 1984, I stopped writing music altogether. It was a painful decision. I had spent years fostering a career as a composer-conductor which I was now about to throw away. But I knew that as my work became more refined, and only a handful of dedicated virtuoso musicians could play my scores, fewer and fewer people were actually listening to the music. I wanted my ideas to reach a much larger audience. Reluctantly I concluded that my art, which I loved, and was so much a part of my identity, was also little more than an exercise in futility.

So, I gave it all away and wrote a book. Improbably, because I knew very little about my topic, The Management Myth was a best-seller, changing how management is practiced in large enterprises today. It had very little to do with music of course. But I had found a way of expressing corresponding ideas in a context more familiar, and therefore far more acceptable, to more people. For me this was a lesson in how to be heard and appreciated using a language that people understood.

In today's world it is more important than ever that foresight is used, and used wisely, by decision makers. But most incumbent leaders, in both the private and public sectors, still do not comprehend the value of foresight and do not know how to access it even if they did. Our craft and tools seem to have taken us down a rabbit hole of indifference. Today I sense the same frustration I experienced as a composer whose music had become irrelevant.

It is time to face an embarrassing truth. We have found the enemy. It is us. The real world remains mostly untouched by what we know and do. I suspect many of us remain tenaciously unaware of that.

It will take integrity, courage, and determination to transcend habits that are not working in order to adopt a different, more cutting edge, foresight practice. Even more so if we are to step into the public spotlight with authority. Familiar tools must be replaced by better ones. A few of our heroes may fall by the wayside as a result. No doubt we will mourn their passing. But there is no other course if we are to avoid being mere footnotes in the story of our civilisational breakdown.

So, here's the crunch. In order to optimize the impact we need to have where it will make a difference (in government planning departments, corporate strategy teams, peak industry bodies, Boards and investors) let us take a few steps back.

I urge us to step away from academic theories and papers that are impenetrable. They are a form of self-inflicted autism. Let's learn to communicate simply instead.

Step away from the use of arcane language that serves no purpose other than to impress. Let's find more unpretentious ways to engage with those who need us.

Step away from the constant litanies of a dystopian future. Let's generate hope rather than fear.

Step away from the cult of discrete futures studies. Compartmentalisation merely distances us from decision makers. Let's be inclusive for a change.

Step away from the tools through which we become known originally. The 2 x 2 matrix is a product of the industrial age and reached the end of its shelf-life in the 20th century. Let's embrace up-to-the-minute methods, including AI-enabled horizon scanning, instead.

Finally let's step away from individual idolatry. It matters not whose disciples we are. The notion of the lone genius belongs to a previous era. It no longer serves us well. Let's use our individual talents towards a more collaborative purpose instead.

The time has come for the foresight community to step into new epistemologies. To step into a new cooperative pragmatism - curating experiences in an "expanded" now in order to prototype solutions previously regarded unthinkable, undesirable, impractical, or too costly.

By stepping into a leadership role, we might just be able to throw off the yoke of obscurity and leap boldly into relevance. If we have a mind to we can help society work out where it has gone wrong and how it still has time to design futures that are inclusive, equitable, empathic and generative.

Understanding how and why we got to where we are today, in order to fathom out which directions can steward us into better tomorrows, then helping those charged with making decisions, as well as those who invest in those decisions, to act, is surely what should guide our mission. Can there be anything more audacious or meaningful?

Who knows, perhaps we can help create a world that actually works for everyone. The alternative is to continue to loiter on the sidelines, watching the wrong game unravel in front of our very eyes, in the belief we are players waiting on the bench for the senior coach to call our name. It will never happen.

This piece was originally delivered during the APFN 2019 conference in Bangkok on Wednesday 18th September 2019. It has been slightly expanded and edited to include what I meant to say but failed to do so. I have also deleted the fact that I prefaced the talk by asking my audience for forgiveness and to reflect on my words as coming not so much from the mouth of a bona fide futurist as from the mind of a heretic.

 

My Life As A Shadow

I was with my mother the day my father left. It was just before his birthday. We had gone to Brighton to get him a present. Each week I had saved some of my pocket money so that I could buy him an Ingersoll pocket watch with a shiny silver chain. He must have planned his departure with great care, for when we returned home there was no sign he had ever been a part of our family. His few personal possessions and clothes were all gone. There would be no divorce, no custody battle, indeed no evidence of his desire ever to see us again. Just emptiness accompanied by a suffocating darkness.

My father was very popular in our village, and my hero. He would carry me on his shoulder when I was tired from walking. He was the first to pick me up when I stumbled. The first to wipe away my tears when I cried. Then, in an instant, it all ended. We never saw him again. I can still feel the aching void – a void overwhelming everything else. Grieving from such a profound loss, I did not cry, nor utter a single word, for almost a month.

Until recently I could only recall incoherent fragments from that day. The love I felt when wrapping that watch in blue paper – his favourite colour. The strange silence that met us after a day full of laughter and anticipation. Empty drawers. Missing photographs. Frantic questioning. Anguished pleas for help. A hastily scrawled note. And, over the next few days day, furtive glances and lengthy stares as the news of his desertion spread. 

***

Believe it or not, it has taken me all these years to fathom out why I find it nigh impossible to unwind. To just be me. I am not referring to the masking of my natural temperament in order to conform to community pressures, or cope with stressful situations. We all do that from time to time. Rather I am talking about an emotional struggle I face each day. 

The authentic “me” finds relief only in those rare moments when I am alone. Everything else is merely an enslavement to public mores. Each discrete word and deed that others, including those closest to me, routinely observe, and to which they invariably react, are part of a residual shadow, cast by my desire not to offend or burden others with my insecurities, anxiety and nervous energy. 

Ironically that shadow, my alter ego, is most commonly interpreted as belonging to a self-confident and secure person. An individual who has experienced a relatively comfortable and happy life. While that is undeniable, self-doubt has always stalked my every thought, creating a gentle man who is unconscionably apprehensive at the best of times.

From an early age I always considered myself different from - but no better than - most other people. I found the rough and tumble of youthful play a torment. Swimming was terrifying. And I could never master the balance required to ride a bike. I even managed to fall off the beautiful black tricycle I was given as a Christmas present. On the other hand I found classical music captivating. I wrote reams of poetry in secret. And I spent hours in the local library perusing every book that sparked my interest, irrespective of its content. 

All of this made me an obvious target for the village bullies, who were convinced I was a cowardly know-it-all who deserved every thrashing they dished out. Even adults relished teasing me. In short I was both disliked and persecuted. The problem was made worse as I could never work out why I was taunted so. Nor did I have a way to explain, or excuse, the excessive timidity that helped conceal my quiet recalcitrance. 

***

It was not until I was watching my youngest son, diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome when he was three years old, that the truth dawned on me. I had been living with the same disorder since boyhood. 

Not only was that a revelation – it was incredibly liberating. It provided respite of a kind I cannot even begin to describe. In an instant I knew the disparities I had always felt were not imagined but absolutely real. I could now accept I was more than just a restless, shy, intolerant narcissist, who appeared incapable of carrying out even the most basic tasks most other males accomplished with ease. Like climbing a ladder for example. Yes, I was different. But my differences were genuine. Suddenly I felt no need to constantly comply with practices I found harrowing, draining, or so pointless. 

The need to apologise for my shortcomings all the time, morphed into new truths. I could now celebrate who I was, rather than who others wanted or expected me to be.

Further pieces of the puzzle fell into place over the ensuing weeks and months. I began to grasp how my empathy for others could also be a curse, playing on my vulnerabilities. On some occasions my uncanny ability to sense deeply what others were going through was so overwhelming it would almost bring me to tears. I realised why I find it so unnerving to enter a room full of strangers though have no qualms about speaking to a large audience. And why I cannot abide my photograph being taken but relish being interviewed on TV. 

I began to scrutinise my own behaviour too. The need to plan ahead in such painstaking detail. A studied avoidance of those I regard stupid. My intense shyness. The desire for routine, precision, and order. The host of tiny quirks that most people do not notice. And the traits that even deceived my GP into believing I had Parkinson’s disease, when these are probably simply indicative of the nervous intensity within me.

Over the years I had cultivated temporary solutions to deal with issues associated with my reticent and somewhat antisocial interactions. Experience had taught me how to hide my real feelings, when to remain silent, and when to speak out. A degree of level headedness advocated the adoption of protocols allowing me to cope with the routine vagaries of life. 

So how have these recent revelations and changes brought with them so much peace of mind? And why now?

***

Any such inquiry must begin with a different set of questions relating to circumstances in my youth to which I have already referred, and that have always weighed heavily on my mind. How could my father leave my mother and myself to fend for ourselves when I was barely eight years old if he loved me so much? Why did my mother, with the consent of others, decide it would be in my best interests to tell me he had died, rather than the fact he had absconded with another woman? 

Did she expect my grief to be any the less from such subterfuge? Had she considered the confusion that version of events might create in the mind of a child? Or was she simply trying to protect me from something even more disturbing than the loss of my father? A factor she found so distressing that it warranted such deception? 

Since discovering the truth of the matter – about 40 years later and literally months prior to his actual death in an Eastbourne nursing home, deaf, partially blind, and alone - I had been more distraught by the thought that my father could not possibly have loved me, as he professed, given that he never once tried to find me, or correspond with me. It was as though he had determined to erase me from his life. 

But now I began to have other niggling thoughts. When my assumptions, the cause of so much suffering over the years, were subjected to a thorough and dispassionate analysis, they did not make sense. Perhaps there were other reasons for him leaving. Factors that nobody else knew about or took into account. 

Might he have run into financial troubles, or found himself out of work, for example? And, if not, what was he thinking or experiencing that could provoke him into taking such a life-changing decision after 25 years of what, by all accounts, was a happily married life? Was his decision premeditated and, if so, how long had he been planning to leave? Perhaps he was simply a philanderer after all? Did I fabricate the myth of an accident in order to shield my vulnerable self from the truth? Or was it possible that my family concocted the entire fiction to avoid me having to confront what they perceived as a more terrible reality?

***

All of these possibilities, and many more besides, started to taunt me, playing psychological games during periods of solitude. I took the only pragmatic step that occurred to me to try and end the unease. I started to compile scraps of evidence that were still relatively clear in my mind, including details I had initially chosen to ignore, or consciously disregard, with a diligence hitherto lacking. As the list grew, unanticipated connections surfaced. Additional elements came to mind that, for some strange reason, I had forgotten. I now began to remember off-the-cuff remarks, illogical gestures, inconsistent behaviors. Trivial things that were said to me directly. Whispers in the dark, now took on a new significance. 

And something entirely new emerged that I found immediately unsettling...

In the weeks following his disappearance, that time when I was trapped in a cocoon of silence, my mother, my brother John, the Reverend Burns-Cox, Miss Allen my teacher, and a mysterious stranger in a dark gray pin-striped suit with a dark blue tie, had all asked me questions, for which I had no answers. They interrogated me without context, as if I had somehow been complicit in creating an intolerable situation for my father. I recall feeling culpable, but also confused about why I should be feeling shame. All these years I had put this traumatic questioning out of my mind. As you can probably imagine, it burst into my consciousness like a firestorm. The experience I was suffering at the time was enough to cause such trauma of course. But could all that questioning have been an additional reason for my refusal to speak?

As links between his desertion and his supposed death became less tenuous, my earlier assumptions started to fall apart. How could I have been so naïve when there was a note, written by him, but no dead body, no condolences, and no funeral? Did the shock of his loss persuade me to accept as true a conspiracy that was so obviously full of holes? Or was I alarmed by the possibility that an “accident” was merely a euphemism to cover up the fact he died by his own hand?

Over the years I sought for clues in memories of the child I used to be. Family friends and relatives would talk of my mother’s enduring devotion to her husband, and of his loyalty to her. How they both found so much joy in my birth, and how they always seemed to be happy – a fact borne out by the few photographs I have from that time. All the evidence seemed to point to a close-knit and loving family. 

Memories can be such fickle friends of course. They also have a habit of distorting history, and of misinforming. They rarely point to the truth. Yet stumbling upon what I now believe to be the answer to these questions, in all the blurred entanglement of facts and nostalgic half-fictions I have recorded over the past few weeks and months, possibly comes closer to the truth than anything I hitherto supposed credible. 

I am now as certain as I can be that piecing together these painful splinters provide a new pattern – a forgotten piece from a puzzle that has confounded and eluded me for most of my adult life. 

***

Among all the various possibilities I am now convinced I was largely responsible for my father leaving us. When all the evidence is analysed it is really the only explanation that makes any sense. 

I was always a precocious child, far preferring the company of adults to children my age. Mostly happy. Inquisitive too. Indeed I was curious about everything around me. But my behaviour, that of a child who had no conception of how to fit into the world, would have perplexed the ex-regimental sergeant major, and been easily misconstrued by the lowly farm hand. My brother, then in his early twenties, had a relatively uneventful upbringing. Predictable and respectable, the contrast with me could not have been greater. Here was a clumsy kid with protruding teeth who preferred listening to music rather than engaging in physical activity. A boy who rarely kicked a ball, but would go on long cross-country runs by himself. A child who wrote poetry, and devoted inordinate amounts of time to reading books with words the father could not spell least of all figure out. A boy who sang like an angel, could not ride a bike, hid from bullies, and appeared to be in his own world much of the time. 

I see now that my father would have been constantly trying to explain this behaviour to his friends and neighbours with nothing concrete to go on. My exploits would have been at odds with his expectations about parenting gained from his previous experience. For a tough, proud, tenacious, royalty-loving, hard-working man with little education, who had once been a Physical Training Instructor in the army and in that capacity coached the tug-of-war team for the Royal Tournament, trying to understand and deal with such strange mannerisms would have been too much. An enigma he could neither solve nor control.

That pent-up anxiety would explain why he smashed a 78rpm recording of the Swan of Tuonela I had been given by my piano teacher. Familiar only with marches, fanfares and foxtrots this symphonic poem by Sibelius appeared “too sad” for a boy of my age to be exposed to. It explains why he looked so dejected when I failed to catch a cricket ball. It explains why he cast bemused glances at me when I burst into uncontrollable giggles at some small thing he had not noticed or thought funny. It explains why he spent much of his time with me on commonplace tasks, such as gardening, pitching hay, riding on the tractor, and picking field mushrooms in the early dawn. For him this would have been a way of  instructing me into what he would have deemed normality. Remarkably, it also explains why he never hit me, always raced to my aid when I was in trouble, and enjoyed playing hide and seek with a child who would invariably reveal his location well before being found! 

***

Only now am I in a position to fully understand the conflicting emotions he must have had. The shame he possibly felt thinking that my odd condition was somehow his fault. While watching my young son at play I have experienced similar feelings, pulling me in so many different and cruel directions. A mixture of profound love grazed by bewilderment. And all that in spite of my own experience and knowledge, which far exceeds anything my own father could possibly have known.

Autism and Asperger’s Syndrome were first described in 1943 and 1944 respectively – a year or two before my birth. The medical profession at the time was largely ignorant of such neurological conditions. Families would have been completely in the dark. A child with special needs would have seemed strange, crazy - or some kind of genius. During my youth I was regarded as clever, if a little odd, shy and withdrawn. But I was most fortunate. Because of my musical talent I was considered a prodigy. That would only have added to my father’s confusion. 

These peculiarities, I now believe, led to my father’s departure when he eventually found it impossible to cope with his oddball son, or face up to the fact that I was different. What I had never previously accounted for was my own part in this little drama – a role I now think was the single most important factor in my father’s decision to leave.

Previously, somewhat selfishly, I had only focussed on the love I had for him - interpreting his departure as an act of betrayal and a refutation of that devotion. The fact that my mum never spoke ill of him, that he was in touch with my brother all those years, and kept up regular maintenance payments without any court edict, yet never once tried to intervene in the direction my life took, actually points, in a curious kind of way, to a compassionate man who sacrificed much for the love he had for us. 

In the end, perhaps, he was simply overwhelmed by circumstances far beyond his ability to grasp or to deal with.

Whispers Borne on the Wind

Whispers Borne on the Breeze - Intimations of Mortality from Katowice 2018

Stop what you are doing. Pause your tedious routines for a few brief moments. These tasks cannot be so important. Your distractions are amusing you to death

Please be still for a while. Be quiet and listen

Do you hear what I hear? Do you hear the sighs in the wind’s breath?

Like autumnal leaves, the fluttering wings of a hummingbird, or a quivering heartbeat? Yet a tormenting tinnitus are those whispers borne on the breeze today

You hear nothing? Perhaps you cannot bring yourself to trust what it is that you hear. Only those with open minds and open hearts can sense such menacing murmurings as these

You need to return to your countries and your business? Time is money? So be it

But heed the warnings. Gentle flurries today are but the ennui of what is to come. The howling storms our gandchildren will inherit will not wait too long

By then your deafness, and dumbness, and blindness, will be held up to ridicule by those you call children. They will be outraged that you chose not to hear them. That you chose not to act

But it will be far too late. Possibly even for them

After the ice has melted, and the earth is scorched; when you gasp for oxygen, choke on the dust of our crumbling civilisation, and are deafened by the roars of tortured souls...

remember this...

Your vain hopes, your sad prayers to a non-existent deity, your irrational distrust of data, your incessant hand-wringing, your bureaucratic follies, your agitated denials, your wilful ignorance, and your unrestrained foolishness, were all motivated by ego and conceit

Perhaps, on the altar of devastation that you are creating, in your final moments, you will admit that you were wrong. That you were not fit to lead.

Perhaps, too, you will concede that your sense of entitlement, your delusion of being in control, and your fear of being found to be a fraud, resulted in the greatest loss of all

Your humanity. And our home