Next Thursday 16 May marks the launch of a new Environmental Sustainability strategy by Sport England.
A strategy that can’t come soon enough. I joined a briefing session this week to get a first peek into its contents, dialling in to the Teams call on my phone whilst walking across Manchester, on the move, and ‘on brand’ as Phil Smith, Exec Director of Partnerships at Sport England, commented. I realise in retrospect that I was braced for some disappointment, having seen too many strategies and leaders fall short of addressing the scale and urgency of the task over the years. I was pleasantly relieved by what I heard. I explain why in another blog, to be published after the strategy launch, so I don’t get in trouble for giving away too many spoilers!
In the meantime I want to share a bit about me, and what moves me to act on this agenda.
My story: What moves me?
I grew up in Chorlton and Whalley Range, the same place where I now live. I lived between two homes. My mum lived in a shared household or commune as it was then described. It was a house of activists and activism, there were always mugs of tea on the go, lentils cooking and fliers for the next event or protest on the issue of the day – of which there were many in Manchester in the 1980s-90s!
My dad lived nearby, with my step mum. They, like my mum, came to Manchester as youth and play workers and worked for most of my upbringing at Manchester City Council, in neighbourhoods and regeneration teams. They were passionate about their work, their public service, and the people and places of Manchester. Topics which dominated most kitchen table conversations. But the defining memory that sticks the most, is of falling asleep most nights, to the sound of my dad tapping away at his typewriter. He was writing a book. A book about man made climate catastrophe.
Skip forward 10-20 years. It’s 23 June 2006. I’m 26 years old. I have one son, called Eden, and I’m getting married tomorrow, to Wayne.
We have chosen to get married in a field by the sea in Devon. The sea is calm, the sky is clear. Our wedding guests are messaging us as they draw near. Preparation is in full swing. My dad is our celebrant and he is sat outside, in the shade, finishing his speech. Pen in hand, he is writing of catastrophe and tipping points. An environmental need to take a stand. The words spill from his heart onto the page. Amidst the marriage blessings, there is fear and rage. Concern for grandchildren, and generations to come. A call and plea to act, quick, to protect our collective home and planet mum.
I’ve heard many of my dad’s speeches. A big thinker and powerful orator he knows how to stir. But can, by his own admission, go on too long. So I ask for a look at what he’s written. He hands over his speech and I sit and strike out all that appeared wrong. Stripped back his words to remove references to humankind’s contribution to environmental degradation. Removing sections about the extractive and exploitative capitalist drive for growth and the impending tipping points and doom if we don’t change tack and quickly. I refocus his words to just centre our human bond. Holding on to only the positive references to our environment, to the rolling hills around us, the tranquil waters and nature’s picture perfect stills.
Skip forward one day. Our wedding day. The sky stays clear. Our guests all appear. My dad’s blessings are given, bubbles fill the air and our glasses. Our climate crisis is glossed over.
Now skip to today. Another 18 years have passed. Wayne and I now have a brood of three. My dad is 81. He is still writing. Every day brings more stories and news of the impact of extreme weather and climate breakdown. More evidence of climate change and biodiversity loss. My dad can’t read and write quickly enough now to keep up. Many of the tipping points he was writing about, when I’d listen to him tapping away on his typewriter, have now been surpassed.
Over those 18 years I’ve often thought back to that moment in June 2006, when I took my pen to my dad’s speech. And to the many other moments in my life when the truth has felt too inconvenient to be spoken. Too painful, too difficult, uncomfortable, or somehow inappropriate. We’ve all had those moments, whether it’s about climate change or another big issue like poverty, inequality, discrimination. ‘Now is not the time’ is the common rhyme!
So what?
I tell you that story, because I realise that for all the statistics and evidence in the world about climate change and its impact on people’s lives now and on future generations, in practice it’s my love for my dad that most commonly moves me to act. It’s my deeply felt wish that he gets to see people act, in his lifetime, with the depth, scale, pace, care and empathy that he has spent his life calling for. It is his eyes that I long to be able to look into and say that he, and his words, have been seen and heard and that I’ve done all I can. I want to be able to hug him and reassure him that his grandkids and their grandkids will be ok. His book may never be completed or published. Both he and I are growing to accept that now. It isn’t the book that matters. What matters is that he, in his lifetime, has moved some people to act.
So I now try to make my every move count. This includes seizing every opportunity to talk about what we can do. To ask questions and to share a story or give an example that may help to inspire or support individual or collective action. I don’t always manage it. I caught myself apologising at a Sports Awards event last Friday, about my failure to engage in ‘small talk’ as I dived straight in with a question to another guest, asking how their organisation was providing leadership on environmental sustainability. I don’t know if that conversation has moved them to do anything differently over the last week. But it helped clarify my mind on a couple of my next moves.
Like me, my dad is a great believer in people and human kind. In our capacity for love, cooperation, creativity and collective action. Like me, he remains determinedly hopeful that we can take action now to mitigate against the worst that climate change has to offer and for a happier, healthier, more sustainable future. Whilst recognising that some changes are now inevitable and irreversible and that adaptation is also therefore critical. And like him, I increasingly recognise that my daily connection and coexistence with nature, in nature, as nature, is as important to me, my life and my wellbeing as my human bonds. And I’ve learnt to find incredible wisdom, learning and inspiration in nature’s patterns.
I’ve also learnt from my dad’s failures and successes in engaging others. I’ve seen how he is most influential when he approaches people with head, heart and hands, drawing on his phenomenal capacity for play, fun, curiosity, empathy and connection, and to make, create and imagine, in at least equal measure to his intellect and logic. Lecturing and preaching doesn’t work!
What moves you?
If you are not sure where to start, I recommend starting by exploring what stirs you and finding out what stirs those around you to action. So, on that note, I leave you with the question, ‘what moves you?’. I’d love to hear your story (stories) of what has moved you to take action for greater environmental sustainability.
Footnotes: I’ll set out a bit more about what I’ve been moved to do, in my next blog. In the hope it provides some inspiration, hope and ideas that you can draw on for your next move.
If you are curious about my dad’s writing, I wrote this poem a while back to try and capture some of his thinking in a shorter and more poetic form!
Eve Holt 