The Charade of Objective Reality
I'm as guilty as the next person - even a climate denier - for existing in states of denial
Reality is painful. The last month shows us that again. Conflict, destruction, deaths in custody. 282 locations in the U.S. broke daily heat records this week alone and the May just gone recorded a monthly mean atmospheric carbon dioxide concentration of 430.5 parts per million - a(nother) record! The median house price in Sydney is forecast to jump by another 7 per cent in 2025-26, to a very accessible $1,830,000 by June 2026. The Australian Council of Social Services reports that 3,300,000 Australians live below the poverty line. 761,000 are kids.
You get the picture. You’d be able to add in your awful and shameful statistics too.
One that did shock me though was the analytics for the recent pod episode I did with Catherine Fitzpatrick where we spoke about financial abuse and how everyday products and services are weaponised or misused by perpetrators (i.e. men) against their victims (i.e. women). The listening volume was about the same as usual, and the show’s audience over 68 episodes shows a 55/45 female to male listenership. This episode though - 82% women. Men won’t even listen to a 64 minute podcast episode discussing violence towards women. Misogyny seems subtle just from this. The denial is strong.
And move along we do.
How is evidence ignored, avoided or distorted at such a scale? Haven’t you seen LinkedIn lately? A non-stop eruption of reports, informations, stats, figures. Right on your screen in the post you just scrolled past.
Denial is the avoidance of emotional conflict, to avoid a pain either outside of us or something inside of us. I get it, I have done it, I do it and I’ll do it again. In the game of chasing change and working in corporate sustainability, the seemingly ever-present experience of feeling ignored permeates. A climate scenario loss pathway minimised as unlikely or not accurate enough or ‘how could we ever know what’s going to happen’. The surfacing of a harm caused and human rights are violated activates immediate defensiveness. ‘It wasn’t meant.’ ‘That’s not everyone’s experience.’ ‘How could we possibly control for every use case?’
I have come away demoralised and furious too many times to recount. How can you not see? How can you not care? How can you not be moved to act? How can you not act? I am still seeking answers to these questions, though I’ve come to appreciate - slowly - that what sits under the ability to take in information is a set of values and beliefs about the world. I, and likely you if you’re here, am immediately moved by a story or statistic about injustice, inequity or suffering. Maybe I’m just an automatic rescuer? I can’t help myself but to try and help.
For me denial has and can still very easily creep in. Professionally, I can and do distort reality by believing I can alter an organisation almost single-handedly. I ignore the reality that the next powerpoint or paper is likely to the The One that collapses an executive’s worldview of infinite growth and a painless societal transition to a zero carbon world. I avoid the potential reality that a zero carbon world is even going to happen. The evidence for all of these everyday scenarios is stacked against the reality I want. Welcome to Denial. I do it too.
What is it that makes me think that I can change another person’s mind? There is next to no evidence that I’ve ever done it, yet my whole professional life is built around the pretext that not only can I, but I will. I don’t think I’m alone. I look at the entirety of the corporate sustainability movement and come back to my all time favourite essay by Duncan Austin on greenwishing. It’s in the title - “wishful thinking”. The evidence doesn’t lie. More disclosures and statements and commitments and targets and committees and conferences hasn’t closed the gap between real world inequality or the ever-increasing atmospheric carbon reading. Yet on I go. Another day of reports and committees and statements and text-based commitments.
If only others not only listened to what I said but also acted accordingly, it’d all fall into place. Perfection. Its illusion is a bitter pill. In 2023 I was reading something to do with my own personal experiences on the topic of relationships and the first healthy trait it described was “each partner views the other realistically”. I just about fell off the couch. In a context of attempting to understand some of my own patterns in personal relationships I realised that wherever I go I take myself - this pattern of projecting my own expectations and distorted reality onto others extended to colleagues and organisations. I expected them to say they’d not only be zero carbon (very soon) but rapidly acting to make that a reality. To do the same with respecting human rights and remediating violations immediately. Of addressing the housing crisis, the violence towards women crisis, the nature crisis, the poverty crisis, the homelessness crisis. The penny dropped. It was me who fantasised that my reality would come true, was just around the corner. The next powerpoint or paper was the gateway to the holy lands. It never was, and that encounter with reality would elicit intense emotional and psychological pain.
Suddenly I could see and choose to accept my part in these situations. From that, another piece in the foundation of Finding Nature fell into place.
The experience of reading the latest atmospheric carbon reading is intimating. Examining and re-examining the Catherine Fitzpatrick episode statistics feels daunting and enraging. Australia’s poverty crisis in numbers feels sickening. Often it feels insurmountable.
Reality is painful. I know that fantasy is dangerous though.
Deceit as Denial
This is one of the most powerful accounts I’ve read from someone who I know. I’ve learnt that a story like this - without trivialising or minimising it at all - is a dime a dozen for every woman out there. Men need to know how pernicious and pervasive the subtleties of gender based harms, abuse, coercion and violence are on a daily basis.
This contribution is offered anonymously.
For a long time, I thought denial was a private, internal retreat from reality - a clandestine act of dimming the lights to hide the mess. What I didn’t realise was that denial could also be loud and bold, dressed in a P Johnson suit, giving keynote speeches about “mental health” and “culture” at conferences.
In one of my previous roles, I was an Associate at a city law firm. Everyone knows, those offices are riddled with problems, but my particular set of issues arose from the unlikeliest of places. It was the man in charge of sexual harassment training. The one responsible for teaching us about power dynamics, appropriate conduct, respect in the workplace – and well, he was a prolific sexual harasser.
He didn’t hide his attention towards me. In fact, his behaviour was often so outlandish, so inappropriate that it bordered satire. He made crude jokes, asked invasive questions, invited me to hotels and always found reasons to be alone with me, brushing past me.
He wasn’t subtle, but neither was the firm’s performative progress. The carefully choregraphed dance of not knowing, looking away and rearranging facts to fit their PR narrative of respect and wellbeing.
I think about denial a lot when I reflect on that workplace. About how it was easier for them to brush it under the carpet. To pretend this was a mutual, flirty friendship rather than what it actually was: power wielded against someone who could never possibly speak up. He was an equity partner. Where exactly was I supposed to complain? Who would I report him to - himself?
Denial often begins with self-deception, and I imagine his was well practiced. Men like him – clever, handsome, admired, powerful don’t often recognise when they’re the villain. Maybe he tucked it all under the soft blanket of ‘charisma’ – convinced that being a great lawyer, a husband, a loving father somehow balanced the ledger.
What 25-year-old-me didn’t know yet, was that this behaviour wasn’t born of strength -it came from a deep gnawing lack. A need to prove his power, feel desired, in control, admired. Hiding behind his CV of a “good man”, was a man desperately feeding something hollow.
My boss’ denial was only emboldened by silence of the firm’s wider leadership. The thing about institutional denial is that it doesn’t arise from a lack of awareness. It’s an active erasure. It’s a refusal to act, not because they don’t want to know, but because they do. Because action would mean admitting that harm was done on their watch, by one of their own – an inconvenient truth when there’s business to be won and the bad actor is particularly good at bringing it in.
Denial is a structure. A culture. They deny by smiling. By booking him more keynotes. By making him the authority on the very issues he violates. By rearranging seating charts to keep me at arm’s reach.
So, I didn’t complain. I didn’t report. I smiled, stayed polite and left quietly. That’s how insidious denial can be – it doesn’t only belong to those in power. It seeps in gently, like damp. It whispers: Maybe it’s not a big deal? Maybe you misunderstood? Maybe being seated side-by-side at yet another training session or Christmas party was a coincidence?
Looking back, I can see more clearly now, that it wasn’t just a man behaving badly, it was the entire system accommodating him, by pretending he wasn’t.
What I now understand is that denial doesn’t always look like silence. Sometimes it looks like awards, leadership seminars, like LinkedIn posts about wellbeing. It can show up with a smile and lanyard, talking about ‘culture’ while brushing your leg under the table.
He’s still there, on stage, being thanked for his contribution to a healthier workplace. And that’s the most dangerous type of denial – one that dresses up as progress, while keeping everything exactly the same.
When Nice Isn’t Working: Rethinking Climate Advocacy Under a Labor Government
Martin Zavan wrote this over on Campaign Republic and I immediately identified with the tone and content. Why is the sustainability movement so complacent in its complicity with John Howard’s Labor Party? More importantly, what do we do instead?
A big thank you to Martin for generously allowing his work to be re-published here. Check out and subscribe to his work here.
After Labor’s recent election win, many in the climate and environment space breathed a sigh of relief. The Coalition and its nuclear fantasy were resoundingly rejected. In its place, a government that at least says the right things about climate change, even if its policies don’t match the rhetoric. For some, that alone felt like progress.
But when viewed through the old climate adage that winning slowly is actually losing, can we afford another three, or six, years of muted ambition?
The Albanese government recently approved Woodside's North West Shelf gas project to operate until 2070, has greenlit multiple coal mine extensions, and scrapped its own promise of a federal EPA, under pressure from a state Labor premier, no less. The decisions sit awkwardly with Labor's net zero by 2050 target and fly in the face of what the science demands for a safe climate.
It's clear the current approach, avoiding criticism to stay onside with a government that keeps letting us down, isn’t working. It’s time we recognised that, owned it, and tried something different.
The Illusion of access
Much of the climate movement’s strategy has been built around maintaining a good relationship with Labor, avoiding direct confrontation in the hope it might lead to influence. But let’s be honest: many organisations are being polite to maintain access that doesn't amount to influence.
I've seen time and again how groups hold back from publicly criticising Labor, sometimes, despite having little or no meaningful engagement with the Environment Minister or Labor decisionmakers. It's as if the hope of future progress is enough to justify silence now.
To a certain extent, that's understandable. Building political relationships is a long game, and there's no perfect formula. But when the polite approach doesn’t deliver results, we need to be brave enough to try something new.
Labor’s relationship with the movement
There’s also a false perception that Labor values the environment movement and its endorsement. In reality, Labor only wants to neutralise it. They don’t want to be attacked, but they also don’t want to be seen as caving in to pressure. They want to be able to name-drop supportive organisations in press conferences, but they’re far less willing to adopt those same groups’ policy proposals.
This is the tightrope Labor walks: be seen as taking climate seriously, without being seen to be pushed by activists.
We need to understand this dynamic, accept it, and adapt accordingly.
The Woodside decision illustrates the point in brutal fashion. The movement's position was clear. Labor knew it, but defied the movement and their own policy to approve the extension. They wanted to be seen as consultative. Labor calculated that the political cost for ignoring would be bearable. The greenies would have a whinge, but they're not going to support the Coalition.
If your strategy is based on being part of a team that the government doesn’t see you as playing on, it's time to rethink the strategy.
What can actually move a Labor government?
Governments don't act because people are polite, Labor included. They move when the political cost of inaction becomes too high.
That means:
Public pressure: Creating visible, sustained public demand, not just one-off stunts or polite letters.
Narrative power: Shaping public understanding of the issue so that government inaction becomes a political liability.
Coalition-building: Partnering with sectors Labor cares about, like unions, healthcare bodies, or regional communities, to create unconventional alliances in places where Labor actually wants to be seen positively.
Persistent advocacy: Not just reactive media statements, but ongoing political engagement that combines inside and outside pressure.
There’s no silver bullet, but there are well-worn patterns we can learn from.
The work we avoid
One reason many groups fall back on the ‘softly-softly’ approach is because it's what they know. They're excellent at community mobilisation, digital engagement, and speaking to their base. But high-level political advocacy, building behind-closed-doors relationships, pushing through discomfort, applying inside pressure, is often underdeveloped and/or under-resourced.
That’s not a criticism. Campaigning is hard, and no organisation can be great at everything. But it's a blind spot we need to name if we’re going to shift power.
If we keep doing what we’re good at, and avoid the parts we’re less confident in, we limit our effectiveness. Do we want to get the most engagement on our Insta posts or help deliver a better climate policy?
The way forward
I don’t have a perfect blueprint, but I do believe this moment calls for three things:
1. Honesty: Acknowledge what hasn’t worked, without shame or blame.
2. Courage: Be willing to challenge those in power, even those who seem marginally better than the alternative.
3. Innovation: Try new tactics, build new alliances, and test different ways to influence.
Labor’s emphatic election win means they will be in power for at least another three years. Maybe six. The actions taken this week suggest the current approach isn't working. Doing more of the same and hoping for a different result isn't a viable option.
Thank you for reading. I love hearing your views and experiences reading these so please drop something in the comments.
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