Having just emerged from the Closing Plenary of the
Skoll World Forum on Social Entrepreneurship, I feel a sense of depression and hopelessness that I've not felt for many years. I'm left questioning my own purpose and motivation, even the value of the work I do. I'm struck with an incredible sense of irony and, despite all this, I have an overwhelming trust that everything will be ok - for me at least; after
Al Gore's rousing address at the plenary, I can't vouch for the planet.
Where to start? Purpose is something Gore angled towards in his tale of doom and gloom about global warming and environmental sustainability. He urged all social entrepreneurs not to see the green lobby as competing for airspace. Rather he asked that all efforts to alleviate social injustice - whether poverty, disease or cultural stigma - be reframed as an act of purpose towards saving the planet. Although I can see the merit of his argument, I fear he may be slightly missing the point.
Dr Paul Farmer, who spoke before Gore, came closer to my own beliefs on the issue. In a warning against becoming too self important, he posed the classic conference challenge to our group of socially moral heroes sitting among the hallowed halls of Oxford: Where are all the poor people? Where are all the people with AIDS? Where are all the people that this stuff is actually about. I and others certainly resonated with this - from my own perspective, the last three days has confirmed my silent doubt that high level social entrepreneurs would be any more comfortable than anyone else with the evidence of disability so obviously within their midsts; it's been a long time since I've elicited so many averted gazes.
So, Farmer said bring it home, make it about you, not them. Begin your quest to change the world's terrain with a damn good look at your own back yard before you start messing with gardens across the street. A claim that, perhaps, he could justify more strongly than Gore as he let it drop that he was heading back to Rwanda in the morning (Gore was swanning off to France).
Despite some witty, self-effacing repartee between the two journeying heroes, I felt uncomfortable and am now searching for answers to questions in which even I am implicated:
- How big is Al Gore's carbon footprint as he flies around the world promoting his agenda of global warming? How much have I added to the demise of the planet with my own self-important journey of social enterprise?
- At a world forum at which environmental issues and poverty are identified as the leading concerns, why was not more effort put in to using technology to bring presenters and delegates together by video/satellite conferencing? Could I have done what I've done via webcam from my desk in NZ? Indeed, what kind of viable conferencing system could I have invested in with the thousands I have poured into travel and currency conversions?
- Why are philanthropists and entrepreneurs more interested in engineering acclaimed systems for fighting social issues than in just sharing wealth with those in need? If enough of the world's wealthiest people (some of whom, perhaps, were involved in putting this Forum together) collectively agreed to pool their resources, how much change could they effect through a simple philanthropic act as opposed to a complex enterprise? But then, what are my own (sub)conscious, empire-building motivations for the work I do?
These are the questions I left the Forum asking myself (and others). They may sound like the scathing skepticism of a cynic (and maybe they are in part), but I prefer to think of them as "honesty propositions" - I need to constantly question myself to ensure my integrity and I encourage others to do the same.
But back to global warming and, hell, all social issues for that matter. To cut to the chase, I think the current environmental crisis has far more to do with human beings than the planet. I think the issue we need to grasp is our relationship with ourselves and each other, not our relationship with the Earth. Until we value, respect, and love ourselves and each other so much that we would never do anything, either in the short- or long-term that would hurt anyone, I fear we will never eradicate environmental harm. I suspect that only when we recognise and truly believe that we are completely and utterly connected to every living thing on, of and around this planet, will social, environmental and economic change really happen.
If social innovation were a Hollywood movie, here's how I might describe it: Reversing global warming is fashionable. Fighting poverty is romantic. Combating HIV and AIDS is, dare I say, kind of sexy. Alleviating famine and disease is downright cool. These issues get funding, media, notoriety, even status. But other issues aren't as groovy. Disability isn't sexy (other than my Orange Programme session I'm not sure it got a mention, other than in the context of impairment prevention, as mentioned by
Jimmy Carter). Truly challenging the accumulation of individual wealth is not hip (what if, instead of rhetoric about the gap between rich and poor, we began proposing that governments outlaw the accumulation of individual fortunes beyond a certain percentage of the global GDP?). Certainly exploring notions of self-love, self-acceptance and the love and acceptance of others' experience is not, how you say, de rigeur.
Why not? In the pursuit of a short script, I'll summarise a complex storyline: the fashionable/sexy/cool issues are external, out there, separate from ourselves. The others require a more intimate examination of self. The former is far safer, emotionally and existentially, than the latter.
My work on Constructive Experiential Diversity challenges notions of empathy and understanding of others, replacing it with the exploration and awareness of self. Also required is the complete acceptance of others in an environment where everyone has not only self knowledge, but the knowledge that harmful thoughts, words and especially actions harm other life as well as our own, because of our connection.
This is the simple yet intriguingly complex plot facing humanity at the moment, by my reckoning.
Yet this screenplay (ok, enough of the metaphor) is the source of my angst. Up against the glamour of global warming, the romance of the rich divorcing the poor, the outrage of AIDS, famine, terrorism and disease, not to mention the woes of water supply, my humble thesis seems trivial, perhaps even as pathetic as I suspect some of my more lofty colleagues considered me (as a disabled person) in the last three days.
Perhaps I'm getting above my station - I'm no former vice-President. Perhaps these are the ravings of a lunatic. Or perhaps I'm as right as Al Gore was when officials laughed at his early writings on the environment. If so, how do I promote my treacherous, unchartered terrain next to the secure, established landscape of the mainstream?
The only way I know how - the same way I always have.
"When we are no longer able to change a situation... we are challenged to change ourselves.”
Victor Frankl
Man's Search for Meaning
Me, cold again, on one of the nine bridges that cross the river Tyne in Newcastle.
Claire, asleep at the wheel, somewhere on the M4.
Chernobyl?
My mate Tim, the SatNav (GPS) - a wonderful relationship, short but sweet.
Approaching heaven (Oxford, the land of gay pubs).
To add perspective, we were only in the Hotel Nikko, about 5 minutes walk from Kansai Airport, so we could hardly say we were immersed in Japanese culture. But compared to its western counterparts, the experience was one of if not the best I've had in my travel history. We were escorted from airport to hotel and back again by airport and hotel staff - and such was the respect and dignity afforded us, we wanted to cancel the rest of the trip and stay. Well, nearly. The only drawback was that only single rooms were accessible and, at ¥25,000, we only wanted one. But wait, there's more! Even though they assume disabled people have no friends, partners, etc, when they found one who did, they went the extra mile - check out these funky bath adaptations:
Air NZ's new premium economy class seems to be code for: "the place you pay a bit more to sit and watch people in business class, wishing you had enough to pay for it." That said, it didn't take us long to get used to being watched. The new business layout takes a bit more getting used to - particularly sitting across the aisle from ones traveling companion but having the reclined feet of the stranger sitting behind you at your fingertips - but again, once that became five minutes old, we were free to sit back and enjoy the luxury we paid for. 
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