'But what can I do?'

Keep your ear to the ground

Last week, I spent an evening discussing how to survive the polycrisis on a panel for London Business School. The views presented were varied, starting at green growth and continuing along the spectrum towards post-growth. One climate activist spoke eloquently about justice, framing the polycrisis as a crisis of responsibility. Another spoke about the work that must be done inside each of us. The economists discussed decarbonisation and decoupling. I challenged some of the techno-optimism I’d heard, before sketching out the connection between materials, energy and economies.

We then opened up to questions from the audience, the first being: “You’ve all deconstructed the problem, but I haven’t heard what we can do. What can we do?”

My fellow panelists were gracious with their responses, offering counsel, emotional validation, and action points. I was last to respond and, perhaps because it was late and I was dialling in from a hotel room in Austria where I’d be hosting another conference the following day, I was less gracious:

“Honestly, I feel frustrated hearing that question, ‘What can we do?’ I don’t know what you can do. You’ll have to figure out what you can do. And if you don’t know now then the only thing you can do is keep listening. You have a panel in front of you with a huge accumulated knowledge about the polycrisis, which cannot be fixed with a silver bullet, or one solution which can be scaled up. That’s the point. And if anybody comes and prescribes a “solution” then I suggest you run in the opposite direction from them. It’s up to you to take the knowledge of people who research this and apply it to your locale. Until then, keep listening.”

I understand that it is overwhelming to be at the precipice of the polycrisis which grows darker with every new detail illuminated. I understand solutions are not easy to find, and knowing where to start harder still. But given the scale of complexity I no longer believe that ideas can light the way; it must be people, living beings; scaling back and peeling away. When I was discussing relationality and new models of political organisation on a different panel a few months ago I was challenged by an audience member who asked me: “But how do we scale this up?” I had the same discussion yesterday over lunch, and my response is the same: I don’t want these things to scale up. I want them to scale out. Where before we had centralised pillars of power, I dream of a world of networks of support. I dream of a web, not a palace, for palaces eventually become tombs.

People are already building that web and it’s to them questions must be directed. When my mother messaged me last week asking what local villages could spend a £7000 eco grant on, I took a few days to think about it. It’s not enough to fortify the shore against rising sea levels, to build a wind turbine, a giant heat pump, or even place a couple of solar panels. I initially suggested that throwing it at the community garden was a good bet. A few days later a better idea came to me: Spend it on a council-wide course in participatory democracy. The people of Lawrence Weston, a post-war council housing estate in England, could show them how. Beginning with that same process, they eventually secured themselves the biggest wind turbine in the UK.

Finding the threads of that web is difficult. I’ve been thinking about it over the past year every time somebody asks me: “But what can I do?” I’ve been reticent to pivot Planet: Critical from deconstruction to reconstruction because the crisis is always evolving and because I fear wandering into the intellectualisation of solutions by engaging only through dialogue. I’m equally wary of being as direct with my advice as I am with my criticism, for the data on the problem is pretty clear whereas a viable future is inherently experimental. I also wanted to figure out how to answer that question honestly, which, I think, involves a contextualisation every single time: locality is critical; we must root down in the earth and hold onto one another.

Well, I think I’ve figured out one way of answering the question, “But what can I do?” In my house it’s called—deliberately—Project 2025, and it involves a a major update to Planet: Critical. I can’t tell you all just yet, but you can expect an update before the end of this year. And, following my own advice, it will involve less talking, and even more listening.

In the meantime, stay tuned—and keep your ear to the ground.

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