Climate systems change: how deep are we going?

Systems change comes up a lot in my work, and seemingly more so every week. But charities and funders are often using the same words to mean quite different things. Here I focus on the need for more explicit discussion around depth of systems change.

Some systems change work seeks to change the very paradigms on which our current systems are built, from our assumptions about endless economic growth to the long tail of colonialism and our relationship with nature. Other work focuses on improving existing systems, sometimes significantly, but nonetheless largely within the existing paradigm(s).

Both can be systems change, but they are not the same depth of change. Equitable climate action depends upon our ability to make the distinction.

Different world, same old problems

Being of the generation that wanted to ‘make poverty history’ (you can see how well we did there), and having lived through hopes to ‘build back better’ and ‘build back greener’ after Covid, my optimistic tendencies are tempered with a degree of realism.

Climate change will force enormous changes over the coming years. That change also creates opportunities to tackle longstanding inequalities. But change, even enormous change, does not automatically mean we leave the problems of the existing systems behind.

Imagine if you will that we successfully decarbonise our homes. Gas boilers largely disappear, renewable electricity dominates and millions of homes are much better insulated. Perhaps heat pumps or community energy reach positive tipping points, where change starts to become self-reinforcing and accelerates. But people on low incomes still cannot afford to keep their homes warm. Renters still have little power over the quality of their housing. Wealth continues to determine who benefits most from the transition. We would have changed an enormous amount, without necessarily changing the deeper conditions that produced the inequality in the first place.

Similarly, we could transform food production without substantially changing who owns land or who can afford good food. We could make places much more resilient to flooding and extreme heat without addressing the inequalities that make some people far more vulnerable. We might even replace fossil fuels with renewables while continuing to increase our overall demand for energy and finite resources, causing a whole bunch more drama, most likely AI and mineral related.

None of this means every intervention needs to tackle everything. But the scale or speed of change - which I hear most often discussed - tells us very little about its depth.

What do we want to leave behind?

The systems change thinker Donella Meadows gave us a useful way of looking at this. Her work on leverage points identified different places to intervene in a system, from relatively tangible things such as resource flows and rules through to goals and the paradigm from which the system itself arises. At the very top of her list, she put the capacity to transcend paradigms altogether.

But it’s the proverbial fish not recognising the water it is swimming in. Meadows’ examples of that water include assumptions that sit at the root of multiple social and environmental challenges: that endless growth is good, that nature is essentially a stock of resources available for human purposes, and that money is a measure of value.

Whilst I love a good theory or model, especially when it comes with a jazzy visual, I prefer things of simple practical value. There is, after all, only so much bandwidth in our brains, or thinking time covered by unrestricted funding. We don't all need to become experts in systems thinking or different theoretical paradigms. But if we're going to bandy around phrases such as systems change, climate justice and a just transition, we need to consider the changes underneath the easily visible.

For me, a critical question is therefore:

"What are we taking with us, and what are we leaving behind as systems change?"

If our climate work succeeds brilliantly, what will be different and what will be the same? For example, who owns the assets, holds the power, has agency and benefits most? Will we still assume that economic growth is inherently good? Will we continue to consume ever more energy and finite resources, albeit powered by renewables? Will we still treat nature largely as a resource for human use? Will we still be overly individualistic?

Any given intervention won’t be trying to change all these things at the same time. One organisation may be demonstrating a practical alternative, backing an idea until its moment to shine. Another may be changing policy. Another building community power or challenging assumptions that make the existing system seem inevitable.

Nor do I think we should all aspire to work at the deepest possible level of systems change. Sometimes the most useful thing a charity or funder can do is help people afford their energy bills this winter. Sometimes a charity needs to help a community prepare for the next flood rather than dismantle the structures that have made that community particularly vulnerable. Short-term and long-term change are not mutually exclusive, and practical, immediate action can also create relationships, infrastructure, expectations and political possibilities that enable deeper change later.

As we talk about ensuring nobody is left behind as we respond to climate change, we also need to be much clearer about what we actively do want to leave behind. Even if it’s not within our gift to change (alone), such conversations can help us explore together what is possible and to shift the ‘Overton window.’

So, what do you want to take with us and what do you want to leave behind as we decarbonise and adapt to climate change? If each charity and funder can be more explicit about that we will have a better chance of using the enormous changes ahead to tackle the systemic inequalities, power imbalances and assumptions that helped get us here in the first place.