Locked-In learning systems? Transformation and regression potential in Australasia’s waterscapes and beyond

The ‘red-alert’ level heatwave was broken on the 19 of July 2022 with a small flash flood. Water rushed down the bitumen driveways with more vibrancy than a typical urban canal. In the cooler and humid aftermath outside, a familiar smell was present. A wood fire? No – bushfire smoke! As we drove through the winding coastal streets, a haze hung over the vegetation, obscuring the collections of white houses with their slate grey roofs. It was an eerie reminder of recent years past. Having arrived at the beachfront, we climbed over the granite outcrop, trying not to slip on the wet rocks or disturb the mussels and cockles still bathing in their rockpools. Perching above the rising water, we could then see the smoke shrouding the bobbing boats in the protected bay. Although the winds soon changed and the bay returned to its beautiful, clear and slightly tormented self, I could not shake that feeling of Solastagia. This was northern Brittany, not the rocky Australian coastlines we learnt to recognise through the smoke of our own bushfires. Change is a destabilising concept for many, just as imagining the future can be. I have been particularly fortunate to work with many futurists, explorers, scientists, raconteurs, leaders, builders and people who thrive on complexity – people who seek to make sense of, and embrace, the systems and futures we have responsibility for creating. Those who do not just analyse the signals or raise alarms, but proactively work to support others to adjust their worldviews and actions, and creatively design and prepare for the uncertainties of what comes next.