
Not so long ago, North America shifted into full-blown climate change panic. Although there were multiple causes, the event that seemed to galvanize everything was Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth.
Fast forward a few years. As the recession takes our eye off the environment, a robust climate change denial movement has gathered steam.
Although trend skeptics (those denying that climate change is happening) are being squelched by evidence, attribution skeptics (those claiming climate change isn’t caused by humans) and impact skeptics (those claiming there are positive environmental impacts from climate change) are going strong.
As University of New South Wales Associate Professor David McKnight notes, there are several reasons why companies like Exxon have had some success playing the global warming denial card. “First, the implications of science are frightening. Second, doubt is an easy product to sell. Third, science is displayed as political orthodoxy rather than objective knowledge, a curiously postmodern argument.”
I’m not here to muddy the water with another piece arguing for the validity of climate science. Instead, I want to forward the case for green thinking, regardless of the political / scientific arguments.
To wit: we need to pick up the pace of our green innovation because it’s the smart economic thing to do.
When I lived in Europe – nearly 20 years ago – we had a curious contraption attached to every shower. You turned on the tap, and it filled an electric ‘kettle’ on the wall. When the kettle was full, it heated to shower temperature. Presto, you had enough hot water for your shower.
This system was incredibly energy efficient, and much ‘greener’ than the water boiler systems we still use in North America. But the Germans didn’t use it because of the enlightened environmental benefits. In a country with exhoribant energy rates, this little shower heater reduced costs. It was an innovation that made sense.
Look around the average European home, and you see similar innovations – light timers in hallways, baseboard power switches that prevent ‘vampire’ power drainage, dual flush toilets. None of these devices were introduced solely to preserve the environment. They were created to spare costly resources.
NOW LET'S APPLY that thinking to environmental innovations being considered today in North America.
Most energy experts agree we’re at, or close to, peak oil. That means finding and tapping new reserves is going to become more costly – especially if you consider the ravenous needs of emerging markets like China.
So even if we don’t consider the environment, does it make sense to develop vehicles that run leaner, or even run on electricity or hydrogen? Does it make sense to create new forms of ride sharing or telecommuting? Does it make sense to pump innovation dollars into new forms of mass transit?
Now let’s look at the way we live. Eco-density is a fancy word we’ve developed in Vancouver for multiple unit, multizone dwelling. In essence, it’s nothing more than structuring downtown condo living along the lines of European city dwelling. Even if we were to ignore the lessened environmental impact of this type of living, it would make sense from a home heating and transport model…not to mention the human benefit of increased community and interaction! In short, innovating new forms of high density dwelling make sense – even without support from climate change arguments.
Mintel’s Green Living Report (2008) tracks the explosion of green building in North America in everything from design and materials to government backing and consumer demand. True, some of this can be attributed to environmental enlightenment. But as the Wall Street Journal points out in quoting global financial service leader UBS, the "long-term benefits of incorporating green (building) products will offset the higher initial costs and result in significant expense savings.” The Journal article goes on to say the 41% of the 300 REITs (Real Estate Investment Trusts) in the US are actively pursuing energy efficiency and green building upgrades, and another 27% plan do so.
These transport and building examples are just two illustrations of my point that green innovations make sense, without factoring in the environmental benefit.
So if you’re looking for new inspiration for innovation, consider new products, services and business models through the green lens. It will make sense – regardless if you believe in climate change or not.

Marc Stoiber is VP Green Innovation at Maddock Douglas, a company that brings innovations from mind to market for clients that include 25 percent of the Fortune 500. At MD, Marc helps clients apply the green lens to innovation projects. Facebook | LinkedIn | Twitter

I was at the Conscious Capitalism Alliance Summit recently, and I relearned something important. Understanding and endorsement of new ideas is only possible if your stakeholders can actually understand what you’re saying. Here are some of the takeaways from the Summit.
Sustainability is an idea that can’t be effectively socialized from the shop floor. True, the inspiration may come from employees. But the chief executive needs to be the torchbearer. There are fundamental business decisions involved that could affect earnings – if the boss doesn’t buy into it wholly, it isn’t going to work.
One way for the CEO to help C-suite and board skeptics envision the upside of the journey is by doing a simple perspective exercise. Imagine coaching a football team from the field level. You see exactly what the opposing team sees. But what if you could lift your perspective, and sit in the media booth? You’d see the field of play, the two teams’ strategies, even the fan reactions. Sustainability is that big picture – it’s seeing the economics, the business strategy, but also the market and shifting consumer priorities. Any coach (or coaching staff) with that perspective would truly have an unfair advantage over the competition.
Business leaders tend to think of business as decoupled from other aspects of the world. Bottom line priorities trump concerns for social welfare and the environment. It’s useful to compare the organization to the brain of a human body – a fantastic asset, but useless on its own. In a similar way, any chief executive believing they can push for sustainability-focused innovation without stakeholder engagement might be reminded that even if they have terrific heart for this, that heart can’t function without the cooperation of the body.
Doctors understand a sense of purpose. Teachers, and countless other vocations do too. But oddly enough, many businesspeople don’t seem to. One solution is to shrink the scope of purpose to something businesspeople can ‘get.’ Let’s use ‘happy’ as an example. Happy customers are usually a reflection of happy employees. And happy employees today are those who feel a more holistic sense of purpose at the workplace. They want to feel their job is a reflection of their environmental purpose, their personal purpose and their community purpose. A wise chief executive should work to foster that sense of happiness – if they want to continue to foster happy customers!
There are plenty of terrifically successful, highly ethical, socially and environmentally engaged businesses…that don’t see themselves as ‘green.’ Faith-based organizations are just one example. Perhaps the roadblock to building a more sustainable organization is the language of green, and all the baggage it brings.
Every computer user understands new vs. old operating systems. Windows 98 was a great system for its time. But no matter how you upgraded and boosted it, there came a time when it simply needed to be replaced. Installing Windows XP was probably messy and a bit unpleasant – a jolt from your old way of doing things. But ultimately it enabled you to exponentially boost your productivity and job satisfaction. At its root, conscious capitalism is simply an evolved operating system. It may take some getting used to, but there are abundant examples of companies making the leap and coming out happier, healthier, and much more competitive for it.

Marc Stoiber is VP Green Innovation at Maddock Douglas, a company that brings innovations from mind to market for clients that include 25 percent of the Fortune 500. At MD, Marc helps clients apply the green lens to innovation projects. Facebook | LinkedIn | Twitter

In his first public appearance after the November head-on collision of his squeaky clean image and an unsavory secret life, Tiger Woods was somber in expressing remorse, stern in scolding the news media for stalking his family and reporting untruths, and spiritual in saying he had drifted from the Buddhist principles he was taught as a child. From a PR perspective, though, how effective was his apology?
First, let's look at what Tiger did right this morning. He:
Could he have done better, though? Yes, indeed. His main mistake was in waiting so long to fess up. With bad news, the best move is to own up and apologize, the sooner the better. This would have given Tiger more control of the media coverage, and lessened the sting of the attacking bees. Where there's a void, media critics will fill it. Tiger could have also helped his message by clearly explaining why the public apology did not come earlier.
Some critics felt Tiger should have taken questions afterward. I disagree. When faced with a highly sensitive issue (like repeatedly cheating and lying to your spouse), reading a prepared statement and taking no questions allowed Tiger to control the message and stay out of the sand trap. By sticking to the carefully prepared page, he was not compelled to say something that he didn't want to; or worse, lie again. In a sensitive case like this one, it's better to stick to the printed page, and avoid the potential triple bogey.

Patricia Dunn is the principal of Vancouver-based Dunn Public Relations. She has 16 years' experience in communications consulting in the public and private sectors, as well as non-profit. Previously she held news-producing positions at CKNW Radio and BCTV News (now Global). Twitter

I saw Dr. David Suzuki give his legacy speech in December. The speech was positioned as the summary of Suzuki’s learnings from his long, illustrious career as a leader in the environmental movement.
One observation he made really stuck with me. He pointed out that humans are up to 90 per cent water – yet we pour our most toxic waste into our water supply. If we saw any individual poisoning a glass of water, then drinking it down, we’d surely put them on suicide watch.
Then he talked about the air we breathe. Again, as an element it’s vitally important. But we pollute it as if we had a death wish.
Suzuki went on to draw similar conclusions on our shabby treatment of the soil, the oceans, and other organisms we depend on for existence.
His conclusion was that we show all the symptoms of suicidal insanity. We know we’re killing ourselves, but it doesn’t seem to slow us down.
Why?
UBC professor of ecological planning William Rees provides this insight:
The real problem is that the modern world remains in the sway of a dangerously illusory cultural myth. Like Bjorn Lomborg (author of The Skeptical Environmentalist), most governments and international agencies seem to believe that the human enterprise is somehow 'decoupling' from the environment, and so is poised for unlimited expansion.
Malcolm Gladwell goes further, stating:
The fact is, we can be law-abiding and peace-loving and tolerant and inventive and committed to freedom and true to our own values and still behave in ways that are biologically suicidal.
This leads me to two obvious questions – what could be causing us to behave this way? And what could get us back in sync with our environment?
In actual fact, we are not all behaving this way. Guy Dauncey writes that it is in fact a small group with interests vested in unsustainable industry and production that needed to be targeted and turned. But he is hopeful:
The real story here, which merits attention, is how fast we humans are learning to use our collective pressure to achieve this end. We succeeded with slavery, votes for women, labour unions, civil rights, overthrowing kings and tyrants. Will we succeed with the world’s big corporations, whose leaders currently sit on top of the pile…?
Climate Counts does an annual climate action audit of hundreds of leading US companies. They are, in fact, seeing year over year improvements across the board with these companies. So, in fact, consumers are having an impact on producers.
But will it be too little, too late?
I made my career in marketing and advertising, and believe there is a way to speed our recovery. If the job of marketers and adpeople is to link happiness with a particular product, could we shift society from the brink by linking greater happiness with more sustainable products? Or go one further, and link happiness with spiritual fulfillment, community and harmony?
It isn’t a terribly new idea. In 1972, Bhutan’s former king coined the concept Gross National Happiness to define quality of life in more holistic and psychological terms than GNP. The four pillars of GHP are sustainable development, strengthened cultural values, conserving the natural environment, and good governance.
If this sounds a bit kumbaya, consider companies like Patagonia. They work on a GNH model, and thrive financially.
Not that Patagonia is an anomaly. Innovations like social media have pushed corporations toward greater transparency. That means even non-believers in the C-Suite are recognizing the importance of transparency, greater sustainability and, well, playing nicer in the environmental sandbox.
Are we doing enough yet to stop our collective suicide? No. But is there room for rescue? I believe so.
Our brains landed us in this pickle. And properly engaged, our brains can pull us out of the vinegar. Couple humanity’s brainpower with the earth’s remarkable ability to heal its scars, and you have a recipe for hope.
Hope may be just what the suicidal patient needs.

Marc Stoiber is VP Green Innovation at Maddock Douglas, a company that brings innovations from mind to market for clients that include 25 percent of the Fortune 500. At MD, Marc helps clients apply the green lens to innovation projects. Facebook | LinkedIn | Twitter

At a green branding conference this summer, I noticed that 90 percent of the audience never looked at the stage – instead, they were rapid-typing the content of the speeches into their tweets or blog entries.
I thought I was witnessing a glorious mass communication revolution. Until I looked over some shoulders, that is. “Speaker says green is here to stay,” said the screens. “Green is good for business.”
A woefully anemic version of what the speaker was saying.
While flexing their social media muscles, the audience was missing out on 95 per cent of the message. Technology had turned them into stenographers – and not particularly faithful ones. There was just tapping – no synthesis, no analysis, no thinking.
The inclination to chatter is a grave flaw in social media, and it impedes us in trying to solve serious problems. The fight against climate change, for example, benefits nil from a fire hose of blather. It needs focus.
I’m no Luddite. I understand and admire the power of social media. It provides shades of content, it’s visceral and raw, and it’s authentic. It can connect me instantly with like-minded thinkers.
But it doesn’t replace real action, real connection, real commitment. Becoming a fan of Al Gore on Facebook may make me feel like I belong, but it isn’t doing a damn thing to save the world.
It does, however, illuminate a disturbing phenomenon. We have become a society that is terrified of being left out.
WE FEEL BETTER KNOWING that hundreds of people follow our tweets. We’re comforted by our community of Facebook friends and fans.
This substitution of real friends for online ones speaks volumes about the isolation technology can enable. Unfortunately, this isolation is the opposite of what the environmental movement needs.
David Suzuki says a major contributor to environmental destruction is our disconnection from each other and the environment. He calls it the shattered world syndrome.
To illustrate, imagine our society is like safety glass that’s been shattered. Each of us occupies a tiny shard – physically close to our neighbour, but disconnected.
When we turn on the tap, we don’t know where the water came from. When we flush the toilet, we don’t know where the water goes. When we hear the clarion call to make our contribution and fight climate change, we pull back into our cocoon and start retweeting.
We need to rediscover our commitment to our fellow earth-dwellers.
Studies show that the number one reason people enlist in the armed services isn’t for government or country. It’s because their friend or brother enlisted.
That’s strong stuff. People will enlist to potentially sacrifice their lives because their sibling or friend did.
Imagine if we could harness that sort of action for the environmental movement.
Truth is, we can.
I would sacrifice plenty for my friends or family. I’m certain you would, too.
It’s time we all rediscovered the power of that sort of commitment. Instead of sitting in front of our screen, we should be jumping on our bikes with our kids, getting involved in public forums with our friends, looking politicians in the eye and telling them that our families are a force to be reckoned with.
We have to live the mission. Not type it.

Marc Stoiber is VP Green Innovation at Maddock Douglas, a company that brings innovations from mind to market for clients that include 25 percent of the Fortune 500. At MD, Marc helps clients apply the green lens to innovation projects. Facebook | LinkedIn | Twitter

I'm the BCBusiness digital editor, which means two things: 1) I watch over most aspects of how this website appears to you [complaints here], and 2) I am, by necessity, a conflicted soul. It's a question of constitution. Editors are generally conservative: they fit language into established ways of understanding words. But digital types are necessarily adoptive – they must embrace the technologies of the moment. Where a traditional editor asks, "How can I make this new thing like the old thing?" a digital editor must ask, "What's the new thing, and how do I start doing it?" You can see where my trouble lies.
I made my first Tweet on February 11th, mainly because our digital media team had been on my case to start. "What's your claim to legitimacy as a digital editor if you're afraid to Tweet?" they said. (Tweeting, it should be said, doesn't sound like something a man should be afraid of.)
The truth is, I was suspicious – perhaps even afraid. It's a technology thing. I don't own a television, I've never bought an iPod, and my brand-new cellular phone is just my third ever – a record among my friends. My reasoning is simple: if the gizmo I've got serves me well enough, why change it? New technology represents humans' steady march into the future, and there's no guarantee that the future is going to be any kinder, better, warmer, or more comfortable – although you read those sort of promises on gizmo boxes. For me, suspicion carries potential hazards, though: shunning technology, while an admirable gesture for an oil painter or humanities professor, will lose a digital editor his job.
Twittering, if you belong to the uninitiated, is micro-blogging. If that's less than clear, think about it like this: It's millions of people, all over the world, on their computers (and, increasingly, their iPhones and similar gadgets), posting 140-character updates about what they're doing, thinking, reading, and watching. Twitter enables, more than any technology that precedes it, your entry into the chattering collective mind of humanity – or, at least, that portion of it inclined to Twitter.
Sound like purgatory? It is. But it has its virtues, too. And so, as I approach my two-monthiversary in the Twitterverse (yes, that's what they call it), let me share with you what I've learned.

On my desk sits one of my favourite things: Strunk and White's "The Elements of Style." It's a book of writing about writing, and it's tiny, as all such books should be. Writing about writing is one thing; now, even the more compacted gesture of blogging about blogging seems passé. With people Tweeting (in ten or so words) about Twitter, it begins to feel as though we are, collectively, a figure skater in a spin. We draw ourselves tighter and, as we do, we make ourselves smaller, spin faster. Is this the future? And, if so, what's going on? Don't ask me. My primary sensation is of velocity.
It goes fast, so let it be fast – and don't fret about it. You can't keep up. Information doesn't come to us like milk anymore – left in small bottles on our doorstep, quietly in the night, by someone whose name we probably know. Today, information is like a river: it flows, all day and night, whether you're watching it or not, and the sheer volume of it makes the milk bottle look as tiny as it is. Or was.
There's lots to be gained by swimming in the river, but it's possible to get swept away, too. My advice: jump in and paddle around, enjoy its benefits, and climb out regularly. I've spent hours at a time on the computer, Tweeting, and until you pull yourself away from the electrons dancing on your screen, the narcotic rush of immediacy, you forget what a gratifying act it is to stand up, drink a glass of water, and stretch your legs.
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This entails lots of good and bad. As at a party, there's an incredible amount of ambient noise on Twitter, where chirpiness and good humour prevail. And, as at a party, it's important to find the people you're interested in talking to (or eavesdropping on), because getting stuck by the punchbowl with some windbag will just make you want to go home.
To bring order to the clamour, I use a service called TweetDeck, which is a big improvement on the native Twitter interface. It organizes all my updates on a single page. In one column, I can keep an eye on the hundreds of Tweets flashing past from my "follows"; and in my other, slower columns I can read cherry-picked news feeds and updates from people I care about. In this way, the general cocktail party is still going on – and I can join it if I want – but I can make all my VIPs stand in one section.

It's funny that the further we get away from face-to-face communication, the more the rules of the game mimic it. In real life people are put off by shills, boors, and bores, and so it is on Twitter. The people I've "unfollowed" – and, believe me, unfollowing someone is a tiny, thrilling assassination – I've cut loose for having odious opinions, for trying too hard to sell whatever it is they're selling, or for being dull. Just as you'd edge away from them at a party.
The existential questions that trouble us in real life extend to Twitter: Am I here? Am I real? Do I matter? The best way to establish Twitter authenticity is to begin by affecting none – just be who you are. "But what if," asks the bore, "being a bore is really who I am?" Then try to be a bit more interesting. Nobody likes a bore.
You hear a lot of stuff about Twitter's being part of a sea change in new media, and maybe that's true. There are a bunch of good business reasons for using the service, but these are too tedious to talk about. To me, the most interesting thing about Twitter is its bizarreness: you're talking simultaneously to everyone and to no one – and it's easy to feel suffused with the all-at-once anomie and connectedness of that gesture.
Hmmm, "anomie and connectedness of that gesture" – not bad. Think I might Tweet that.

As the digital editor of BCBusiness, John Bucher is the voice behind @bcbusiness and the curator of this site. He photoblogs at Walking Slowiy and contributes to Emdashes. He lives in Vancouver. E-mail | Facebook | LinkedIn | Twitter | Blog