Something is breaking down in the West and we are arguing about the symptoms. Australia's birth rate is at its lowest ever recorded. Bondi Beach, once shorthand for everything easy and good about this country, now has a Menorah painted on a wall where gunmen stood. Men and women are retreating from each other. A generation is finding meaning in the wrong rooms. I want to propose something that will sound reductive and isn't. It starts in the bedroom.

It was 2016. A glass-walled conference room, all clean lines and whiteboards and the faint smell of filtered air and corporate ambition. Perth spread out below through the window; the Swan River, the city, all of it arranged at a distance that felt, as it always does in these buildings, like a form of authority. Five of us around the table. And on the screen at the end of the room, live-streamed from Harvard Business School, Rosabeth Moss Kanter, one of the genuinely great mi

This is a question for anyone who has ever built something worth inheriting. What story are you keeping? What will die with you if you don't find a way to pass it forward? And who is sitting at your table right now, waiting for the version you haven't told them yet?

There is a moment, right at the beginning of a meal with someone you don't yet fully know, that I can't stop thinking about. Before the menus are even open. Before anyone has decided. The hinge — the space that hasn't formed yet, is one of the most psychologically rich environments available to us. And most people move through it as fast as possible.

It’s about the difference between scarcity and abundance as lived psychology. Why some environments train you to brace while others train you to build.

You are standing in the middle of a relay race you did not start and will not finish. This essay is about what you owe the people who ran before you and what you're building for the ones who come after.

This latest essay explores why the coming renaissance may be less technological and more human. Not about what machines can do, but about what remains uniquely human when knowledge is everywhere.

In my latest essay, I explore what leadership actually looks like. Whatever the sporting organisation, the same pressures play out, identity, expectation, fear, belonging, and the quiet weight of decisions that don’t always have perfect outcomes...

Real eye contact feels rare now. Not absent, just quietly avoided. We still glance at each other, enough to register a face, not enough to stay. Long enough to be polite. Not long enough to be changed.

And in this pause, once the food is eaten, the drinks are finished, the conversations had, what’s real tends to hold its shape. And what was being held together by adrenaline, distraction, or sheer momentum starts to crack. That’s not failure. That is data to use. We tend to treat this moment as a time to set goals for the year to come. Outcomes. Targets. Resolutions. What do I want to achieve in 2026?

There comes a moment in every life where the beast standing in front of you stops being poetic language and becomes painfully literal.

Something is breaking inside the modern man, and he knows it. It’s not dramatic. It’s quiet.

Think about the visuals of a team room at half-time. The scoreboard is close. The air is thick with sweat and adrenaline. The walls hum with tension. The captain stands, not to shout orders, but to remind the group: stay in your role, trust each other, keep the shape.

This week’s blog is different. It’s long. It’s specific. It’s written for a very particular audience, the presidents, COOs, and...

People love to believe this myth, that life is just a series of choices where everything can be split into “and” or “or”. That things are clear, clean, simple: right or wrong, win or lose, good or bad. We build stories around black and white. We crave the comfort of certainty, the mental handrails of clarity. But that’s not real life. Not even close. The truth? Life is only “and.” Life is painted in the grey. Title: Life Painted in the Greys In fact, it’s more like purple, a

The world has evolved, shifting from VUCA to something more unsettling & relentless: BANI—Brittle, Anxious, Non-linear, Incomprehensible.