This is fine

“Terrible things are happening outside. Poor helpless people are being dragged out of their homes or off the street. Families are torn apart. Men, women and children are separated. Children come home from school to find that their parents have disappeared”.

This quote is taken from Anne Frank’s diary in an entry dated January 13th, 1943. Yet any Palestinian could have said it any time over the last 60 years, or any American any time over the last 12 months.

At some point in their lives roughly one in every five Palestinian men in Gaza and the West Bank have been arrested – or abducted – and detained without charge. Just stop and think about that for a moment. Several thousand Palestinians are still held in Israeli detention centres or prisons. Indefinitely. Without charge.

Hundreds of those are children.

In the USA, ICE agents arrested a mind-blowing 328,000 people during 2025. Out of those, 327,000 were deported. Four people were killed during attempts to arrest them. Protestors aren’t safe, either. Just remember what happened last week.

And in the UK last summer, thousands of elderly protesters – including an 83-year-old Anglican priest, a 79-year-old Holocaust survivor’s daughter and an 89-year-old retired psychotherapist – were arrested for demanding an end to genocide in Gaza.

These are all acts of democratically elected governments.

If you thought this could never happen in the ‘civilised West’, think again. The rules-based order we’ve all come to depend on is being pulled apart right in front of our eyes. Laws are being applied selectively, power overriding accountability and norms once taken for granted are being openly ignored.

We might not know how to put an end to these horrors, but let’s not pretend they’re not happening.

One day they might come for you.

Trouble in paradise

Most of us have pondered the miracle of life at some time or another. It’s hard to get your head around, but Bill Bryson breaks things down in ‘A Short History of Nearly Everything‘ in the most incredible way. He writes:

To begin with, for you to be here now trillions of drifting atoms had to somehow assemble in an intricate and curiously obliging manner to create you. It’s an arrangement so specialised and particular that it has never been tried before and will only exist this once. For the next many years (we hope) these tiny particles will uncomplainingly engage in all the billions of deft, co-operative efforts necessary to keep you intact and let you experience the supremely agreeable but generally under appreciated state known as existence. 

As if that weren’t enough, our home planet is equally as amazing. Earth isn’t even the tiniest speck of dust on the vastest of stages. In the grand scheme of things we’re irrelevant. The universe we can actually see (forget everything we can’t) stretches approximately 93 billion light-years across – a distance so incomprehensible that light, traveling at 186,000 miles per second, would take 93 billion years to cross it. And our galaxy is just one of an estimated two trillion galaxies scattered throughout space. We might feel like the centre of the universe, but we’re far from it.

‘Pale Blue Dot’ is a photograph of Earth taken on February 14th, 1990 by NASA’s Voyager 1 spacecraft from a distance of about 3.7 billion miles (6 billion kilometres) away. In the image, Earth appears as a tiny, almost imperceptible blue speck suspended in a band of scattered sunlight, highlighting the planet’s fragility and smallness in the immensity of space. It sure is lonely out there.

We haven’t even touched on the sun, an ‘average’ star among roughly 400 billion other stars in our galaxy. But get this. Earth orbits it at a distance of 93 million miles, a position so precisely calibrated that scientists call it the ‘Goldilocks Zone’. Too close and we’d be scorched like Venus (which has surface temperatures reaching 900 degrees Fahrenheit). Too far, and we’d freeze like Mars, where water exists only as ice. This delicate positioning represents one of countless astronomical miracles that make life on Earth possible.

Sometimes it all feels so unreal, it’s tempting to think it’s not real at all. Are we really here?

The conditions required for life as we know it are also staggeringly specific. Earth’s atmosphere contains exactly the right mixture of gases – 78% nitrogen and 21% oxygen – while its magnetic field deflects lethal cosmic radiation that would otherwise sterilise us and everything else alive. Our unusually large moon stabilises our rotation, preventing catastrophic climate swings that would make complex life impossible. Even our location within the Milky Way is fortuitous. We’re far enough from the chaotic galactic centre to avoid being bombarded by radiation, yet close enough to benefit from the heavy elements created by all those exploding stars. We literally wouldn’t be here without them.

Indeed, this is perhaps the most staggering thing of all. The carbon in our muscles, the iron in our blood and the calcium in our bones were all forged in the nuclear furnaces of ancient stars that lived, burned and died billions of years ago. When these massive stars exploded as supernovas, they scattered precious elements across space, eventually coalescing into new star systems, planets and, ultimately, us. This is precisely the miracle that Bill Bryson was getting at earlier.

‘Earth Rise’, an image captured by Apollo 8 astronaut William Anders in 1968, shows our planet rising above the lunar horizon, a powerful reminder of Earth’s beauty and fragility.

As far as we know we’re alone out there, a singular miracle not repeated any time over tens of billions of years in the vastness of space. And this is what really gets me. We just don’t know how lucky we are. Everything is a miracle. Earth is the greatest cosmic gift of all.

So why is humanity so hell bent on throwing it all away?

We’ve transformed our pale blue dot into a battlefield of endless conflicts where nations wage war over neighbours divided by invisible lines on a map, all while the very miracles that sustain life collapse around us. Our species, gifted with unprecedented intelligence and technology, chooses to poison the air we breathe, acidify the oceans that regulate our climate and drive countless other species into extinction.

Perhaps, more tragically, we’ve allowed greed and short-term thinking to override the long-term survival of us and and our miracle planet. While we possess the knowledge and capability to live happily and sustainably as one species, instead we continue strip-mining our finite resources, pumping greenhouse gases into the atmosphere and treating Earth as if we have somewhere else to go. We’ve turned our miraculous home into a dumping ground for plastic waste, chemical pollutants and nuclear materials that will outlast entire civilisations.

This conscious self-destruction represents the ultimate cosmic irony. The most complex known creation in the universe – human consciousness – actively working to destroy the very conditions that allowed it to emerge.

I think about this a lot. And whether there’s really anything I can do to stop it.

Say hello to the bystander planet

Imagine your neighbour’s house is on fire, but you’re too busy scrolling through social media to call for help, or you just assume someone else will handle it. Scale that up globally, and you’ve captured how public apathy operates during major crises.

Public indifference isn’t just inconvenient – it can be deadly. When people mentally check out from global problems governments lose political pressure to act, funding disappears and windows of opportunity close. The psychology behind this is well-documented. Our brains respond more to individual stories than mass statistics. One child in a well captivates us. 25,000 children dying daily from preventable causes is easily filed away and forgotten.

The consequences can be devastating. During the 1994 Rwandan genocide, 800,000 people died in 100 days while public pressure for intervention remained virtually nonexistent. Climate change offers another stark example. Despite scientific consensus since the 1990s, Yale research shows only 8% of Americans are worried enough to take action, giving politicians cover to delay meaningful responses for decades.

History does, however, show that apathy can be overcome. Live Aid concerts in 1985 transformed abstract Ethiopian famine statistics into urgent, actionable concern for millions. The 2014 ALS Ice Bucket Challenge used social media to raise $115 million and massive awareness for a rare disease. Environmental movements have learned to make climate change feel local and immediate rather than distant and abstract.

The most effective strategies combine emotional storytelling with clear actions, make distant problems feel personal and local, and give people confidence their contributions matter. Youth climate activists like Greta Thunberg have been particularly successful at creating urgency around problems that for many seemed distant.

Breaking through public apathy isn’t about making people feel guilty, though. It’s about understanding human psychology and designing engagement accordingly. As global challenges intensify, overcoming indifference isn’t optional – it’s existential. The biggest problems facing humanity can only be solved when enough people decide it’s worth solving.

If you feel confused, angry, disenfranchised or simply frustrated at the state of the world, check out my new project, apathy to action. You are not alone. 

When is enough, enough?

If you’re the kind of reader who wants to cut to the chase, here’s the link to my new project, apathy to action. The following post gives a little background and context, and explains what drove me to create it, if you’re at all interested.


As many people might know from my work over the years, I’ve dedicated most of my life trying my best to develop, and help others develop, meaningful and impactful social and environmental solutions to some of the world’s biggest problems. On the surface I’ve done a pretty good job of it too, and have the recognition and best-selling books to prove it.

But it’s never felt enough.

People are often surprised when I say that I feel powerless to all that’s wrong in the world today. It feels like nothing less than radical change is what’s needed. I can’t help but think that this is not the time to tinker around the edges. It’s time to stand up, use our voices, get out on the street, be ‘more activist’ (whatever that means) and put what we believe in on the line. “That’s all very well and good,” my inner voices says, “but you’ve never been brave enough for any of that.” And it’s right. I’ve never even been to a demonstration.

But I can use my voice – it’s just taken me far too long to wake up to it. I’ve been so slow off the mark that I’ve only recently started sharing posts – mostly on LinkedIn – about all the horrific things being inflicted on innocent civilians in Gaza and the West Bank. It’s also been a topic of conversation with my children, something I remember doing with my mother as a child. Has this crisis really been going on that long? And why are my LinkedIn posts met with a wall of silence? Why are good people seemingly ignoring what’s going on, perhaps hoping it will go away?

It’s the same with many other conflicts destroying peoples lives around the world, whether they be in Sudan, Yemen, the DRC or Ukraine. And let’s not forget the refugee crisis, climate crisis or threats to democracy, to name just a few more. None of our collective silence on many of these issues makes much sense to me. I know we all care, so what gives?

So I decided it was only right to try and figure out why so many others, like me, have struggled to adequately respond to these unfolding global issues. A couple of weeks ago I kicked things off with a post about my apathy, and I attended a War on Want event in London a few days later. I continued writing LinkedIn posts about Gaza, posts which continued to be met with a wall of silence. And in quiet moments in between that thing called everyday life, I wondered how many other people out there cared like I did, but simply didn’t know what to do, or where to begin?

So this is what I’ll be doing.

First, find as many people who feel like me, but do little like me. I know there are a lot of you out there. Once we’re together, we’ll collectively unpick our apathy and explore how we might find ourselves, and everyone else, a way out. I won’t promise you an ‘app for that’, but hey, there may end up being an app for that. Help me decide.

So, welcome to apathy to action, the first new kiwanja initiative since I published my memoir three years ago. As always, I’ve put together a website where you’ll find more details, a little background, and a link to a short 3-minute survey which acts as your registration of interest. I know there are a lot of people out there who feel as disempowered as I do, and I’d love to bring as many of us together so we can collectively move from a state of apathy to one of action.

Because we need it. And the world needs it. 

Hope to see you there.