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»Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?«

This is what I read in 1998, approximately 15 metres below ground, at the end of an exhibition on the subject of energy. Built by Austrian media artist André Heller under commission from the German energy company RWE on the occasion of their 100^th anniversary, it had a budget of 17 million euros and the location was the company’s first coal mine, now disused.

Meteorit, as the huge walk-in cuboid planted in the earth at an angle was called, was an early place of fascination for me. Many international thinkers and artists had turned this alien object near Essen in the middle of the Ruhr region into a source of inspiration oozing power, and I spent hours in there on many occasions, just to let their wondrous perspectives on the subject of energy—so central to our human existence—work on me, and to explore.

The above quote was written in white letters, in three languages, on a matt black background in a space right at the bottom of the structure. It came from Marianne Deborah Williamson, who now, as a spiritual activist, author, teacher, and founder of the Peace Alliance not only leads a grassroots movement for the establishment of a US American Department for Peace, but is also a candidate for the Democratic Party in the 2020 US presidential election. This background, which only today is becoming clear to me, was at the time, I confess, not something I cared about. Much more important for me was the magic of the place, this pitch black chamber, hidden inside the ›meteorite‹. Williamson’s thought though never left me, and it has accompanied me ever since as a mantra.

From my first entrepreneurial steps from inside a school yard at the age of 16 and over the years of many startups and partnerships with new and interesting people, I have always been fascinated by the creative potential of the human being and of being human. As the child of two civil servants, growing up in a conservative, guarded environment, this was what gave me then, as it does now, the energy to set out afresh over and over again, to get up and start something new, to turn ideas into reality.

The greater therefore the pain I feel—right down to a physical sense of claustrophobia, clamming up, and sadness—when I see how many of the people I meet hold on to versions of themselves, to roles, and business models, that belong to the past, as if there were no alternatives. Alternatives which can light up a spark in the eyes and coax a smile from the lips of anyone the moment you start talking about them.

Over the years—about twenty now—that I’ve been travelling around the world, tracking future developments, I have discovered that this smile, this spark nourishes me. It motivates me to talk about these alternatives, about new possibilities, and about new avenues, and to do so in public, more and more. Which takes me right back to the sentiment expressed above from the ›meteorite‹.

Time and again I’ve been asked by friends, colleagues, and partners: why do you do this? Why do you fly to São Paulo for three days to meet the curator of the art Biennale and ask him why he is staging his ›exhibition‹ within empty exhibition halls? Why do you have to meet the mayor of Reykjavik or the developer of social housing in Johannesburg? Are you writing a thesis? Are you making a film? What’s the point of it all?

The answer lies in this book—at last. After two failed attempts that I made during the last three years, I now, since the summer of 2018, have found the accomplices, in a marvellously easy manner and right within my network, with whom I’ve been able to collate my observations, reflections, and ideas for a healthier life for us together on our planet.

Which leads me to express my thanks: to my ›thinking pen‹, Sebastian Michael, who after ten years of mutual radio silence suddenly—as it happens via Facebook Messenger—got in touch and who in a captivating manner understands to process thoughts and words, and seasons them with insight from his own wealth of experience. To Lars Zöllner, who immediately and with acute precision made a connection to Murmann Publishers. To Adrian Iselin who took Sebastian’s English text and translated it at enormous speed and with great personal identification with the subject matter into German.

And last but obviously not least to Johann and Josephine, my two wonderful children, who give me the discipline and determination to explore each day with new wonder at what it means to be a Progressive Optimist. Because if I look forward to one thing, it is the day when they will ask me: ›Dad, what did you do at that time, in 2020, when everything was at stake for planet Earth?‹ Unlike the many admirable activists, scientists, entrepreneurs, and engaged humans who contribute in much more effective ways towards a positive vision and—even more important—tangible models for our planet, I can say at least: ›I authored a book. I dared. I had the courage to speak of love, of humanity, of progress, and to invite everyone out there to talk about more than just the next hot business model‹.

So do think of this book as a hug, even if that sounds a little strange. After all, we mostly don’t know each other. Yet.

But we—and now I have to include in this Sebastian, because he put into words everything that follows from here on in—we love you. For being human. And we want to be able to say this without sounding corny or ›hippy‹ or giving off the vibe that we’ve swallowed a couple of tabs each half an hour ago. This book comes from a love of humanity. It comes with a sense of urgency, and we hope it comes as a friendly gesture. The Irish have a saying: »There are no strangers here, only friends you haven’t yet met.«

Which is also why we are trying to talk to you at eye level. Neither of us are ›experts‹. So you could also say it’s presumptuous of us to even sit down and write the book. But we do have a fair bit of knowledge and experience from all the work we’ve done with many people who are better qualified than us and whom we therefore consider our teachers. And so if at any one point while reading this book you get the impression that we might be fancying ourselves a bit as teachers, then let us qualify this with something Jack Ma said, the co-founder of Alibaba. Alibaba, if you don’t already know, is one of the ten most highly valued companies in the world and the world’s largest retailer and e-commerce corporation. We also quote him elsewhere in this book.

In a conversation at the World Economic Forum (WEF) in Davos he said, »Being a teacher does not mean that I am better than you are. Everything I know better than you, I learnt from others. So a teacher should learn all the time. A teacher should share all the time. A teacher should always expect other people to be better than [they] are.« And in that sense, we are glad to be teachers and learners and sharers. And we are self-evidently your brothers and your friends. Can two people be all these things at the same time? Absolutely. That’s the beauty of the age we live in.

Welcome to the Digital Modern era.

Christopher Peterka, Planet Earth, 2019