Blog by Lukas
An old friend once looked me in the eye and, with all the seriousness he could muster, uttered words that have stayed with me to this day: “Those with power will never give it up voluntarily. It has to be taken away.”

His years in the cut-throat world of Texas ranch culture, followed by a career as a criminal defence attorney, no doubt affected his outlook. But more than anything, I experienced his words in the context of both a protective brotherly love — he didn’t want my idealism to kill my spirit through repeated disappointment — and a personal intention to shelter his own spirit. (Image from here)
Those most cynical about humanity’s prospects for overcoming our tendency toward hierarchy, domination and abuse of power may be feeling rather validated at the moment. Looking across geopolitical and domestic political spheres, so-called leaders are either acting to increase their power at the expense of those they’re purporting to serve, or trying to conserve what power they have at the expense of holding the former to account.

Status warfare has arguably never been more prominent in societies globally — whether online amongst influencers, or those clamouring for access to power however they can get it, at risk of falling prey to deranged grifters like Jeffrey Epstein (setting aside the sex offenders, who had different reasons for their proximity to him).
I captured some of my thoughts about our global leadership crisis — including the psycho-spiritual, virus-like characteristics of greed and domination — in a recent Earth Ethos blog called Graceful Leadership, and Valerie has written before about Healing Unjust Power Dynamics and Power, Force & Corruption.
The question for this piece is about the graceful relinquishing of power when it is being abused. I will say bluntly that I do not agree with my friend. I believe we DO have it in us. The question is: what brings such behaviour into being? (Image from here)
The will and indeed the capacity to accumulate power at the expense of others is self-evidently prominent in humans, as it is in many creatures in nature. I find Jordan Peterson’s melancholic references to lobster hierarchies inane in their superfluity. As Canadian neuropsychologist Donald Olding Hebb famously quipped when asked whether nature or nurture contributes more to a person’s development: “Which contributes more to the area of a rectangle — its length or its width?”
As far as I am concerned, nothing underscores humanity’s vital custodial role on the planet more than our range. We can at once exhibit the behaviours of the most hierarchical and the most cooperative lifeforms on earth — and taken as a strength, this means we can empathise with everyone. The extent to which hierarchy and uneven power distribution is necessarily abusive is interesting, but I think it is simple enough to say that abuse means taking power at the expense of others, and holding on to it similarly at the expense of others.
The rich area of enquiry, then, becomes: what are the internal conditions — our attitudes, values, ideologies, practices, ceremonies, worldviews — and external conditions — the physical world and its challenges and bounties — that affect where on the spectrum of cooperation and hierarchy we sit, both communally and individually?
In their groundbreaking book The Dawn of Everything, David Graeber and David Wengrow argue that we should focus on the former, because that is what is within our power to change. Focusing on the determinative qualities of environment — they are heavily critical of another favourite book of mine, Guns, Germs and Steel — leaves us vulnerable to a self-perpetuating cynicism.
I do not resonate with drawing too rigid a distinction between nature and nurture; I see it as a risk factor for hierarchical and domineering thinking in its own right — just more insidiously so.
We are in relationality with the earth at all times. It shapes our behaviour as we shape it, in an eternal and infinitely complex dance.
To see it otherwise, to try and cut the object of our enquiry from its context (after all, the etymology of the word ‘science’ in Latin is to gain knowledge by cutting or splitting), is to create the conditions for human supremacy thinking over nature. And from there, it is not far to thinking we can reign supreme over each other as well.

Indigenous science teaches us to derive the heart — or perhaps the root — of our understanding in situ: meaning, in this context, that our human capacity and potential cannot be separated from our environmental context.
This might mean, in simple terms, that it is quite reasonable for humans living in a harsh environment to behave more harshly with each other. There are strong arguments, for example, that many of the roots of European culture and language come from the harsh and barren Pontic-Caspian steppes. It follows that certain harsh behaviours may be deeply rooted in Europeans for reasons that cannot simply be willed away. (Image from here)
One of my favourite examples in The Dawn of Everything is of an Amazonian tribe that maintains a flat, cooperative and more matriarchal governance structure during the sedentary agricultural wet season, then switches to a more patriarchal and unipolar structure during the dry season, when the tribe adopts a nomadic hunting lifestyle. Certain men of the tribe literally give up power each and every year!
But I think Graeber and Wengrow’s core point — that being deeply impacted by environment should not be an excuse for fixed views of human nature — is extremely useful. They provide an absolute cornucopia of examples of cultures experimenting with different governance systems, many of them defying Western mainstream norms of complexity being an unavoidable co-occurrence with hierarchy.
This means we must walk a tightrope that a more indigenous mind — seeing things like intuition, reciprocity and connectivity as a rich fountain of truth and good conduct — is best at navigating.
My answer to the question about graceful relinquishment of power is to focus on process. There may be moments when abuses must be confronted directly, even violently. But we should resist turning the struggle into an existential conflict animated by moral judgements and the urge to destroy what unsettles us.
I see our most important work as more indirect. If we become more deeply intimate with the Earth and with one another, we may create the conditions in which those who abuse power can more easily relinquish it gracefully — or, failing that, be held accountable with a kind of grace that does not reproduce more abuse.

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I am using the word ‘discernment’ instead of ‘judgment’ because ‘judgment’ is often linked with negativity, but ‘sound judgment’ is similar to skilful ‘discernment.’ I think of discernment as a muscle more than a practice, because it inevitably gets regular workouts through our life experience, so we are wise to work out the muscle so it’s in good shape to navigate inevitably testing moments in our lives. Discernment is grounded in our desire to uphold core values, and will help us to strengthen our
I felt deeply uncomfortable, as it triggered wounds of previous sexual violence. So I started modifying my outfits, pairing a tighter top with a longer skirt, and carrying a sweater or wrap to cover up when I felt overly exposed. I still experienced some uncomfortable projections, but those choices helped me feel good about what I was wearing as well as empowered to protect myself from many uncomfortable projections. I did not feel responsible for the projections other people were making, but since I seemed to be triggering people, I felt some responsibility to protect myself. Perhaps in an ideal world we would all be so self-aware that I wouldn’t have needed to deal with such projections, but that was not my reality. I have since grown to more deeply value modesty and to embed that into my values. (Image from
when something went really poorly and didn’t turn out how he had hoped, he said he felt a sense of pride that it had been his decision and knew he would learn from it. This strategy may not work for you, but the underlying idea is empowering for our discernment muscle. Sometimes we over-think, over-analyse, or over-consult others for advice, and the best thing to do is take a step in a direction and await feedback from the universe, then adjust and await feedback again, through an iterative process that can also strengthen our discernment muscle. (Image from
All discernment relies on some foundational knowledge. When we are confused, lost, or tricked, we have poor information with which to discern what to do. This is another reason why grounding and centring practices are so vital. If we think about it in terms of intelligence, if I don’t have much physical intelligence about my environment, I won’t have much to go on when trying to discern where to set up camp. I will have to rely on knowledge from other environments, but I may learn the hard way that camping near a stream kept me close to water but that the water level rose more than I expected, or that the trees providing shade had branches that easily snapped in heavy winds. This is where local Indigenous knowledge is so valuable. (My photo from 




The desert strips away all that isn’t necessary, and like the bones of the sweat lodge, shows us what we are made of. During the ceremony I witnessed layer upon layer of trauma and grief being stripped from me. This was not new, but something I had been going through for some years. But when I found myself falling to my knees at tree in the centre of the arbour, I felt something different. I felt how deeply that tree, that country and those people loved me, and how very wanted I was by Mother Earth. I hadn’t realised how disconnected from my inherent worthiness I had been, and I cried tears of gratitude for the gift of knowledge reminding me of this. I felt quite weak at that point and soon after completed the dance, breaking my fast with a cup of mint iced tea. The next couple of days were filled with play, including hiking the sand dunes and finding oases to swim in the desert, such as an icy cold waterfall (Image of Zapata Falls from 
However much one tries to be “objective”, behind all science lies priorities and values, and this affects what ends up being considered real or true. Values inform priorities which help us develop meaningful goals as well as guide us how to err when faced with the inevitable uncertainty of complex systems. And, hard is it can be, values help us remain undistracted and unattached to the vicissitudes of life, and prioritise process over outcomes. By asserting the primacy of process, I am not rejecting consequences in favour of pure deontological “moral” frameworks. Rather, I am stressing that such frameworks are, amongst other things, methods for deciding how we ought err in uncertainty, to be used in combination with thought processes reliant on logic.
I think the most dangerous application of 
There are numerous errors of logic identifiable in Example 2 without questioning values too deeply, and these should not be ignored. But I think those errors were proximate causes of flawed values. The aeronautical engineering profession must be based on a deeply held commitment to safety above profit. They, and their regulators, should err on the side of safety. I cannot help but think that government backing of the A380 project — considered a public interest project — had something to do with the values underpinning their decision-making. The risk of producing an unprofitable plane is not as catastrophic to the public purse as it might be to a purely private enterprise. But it also has something to do with the physical nature of the wing test showing a “fact” playing into biases in the Western world. Feelings of unease in the pit of Boeing engineers’ stomachs that I am confident was there were too easily rationalised and discounted within a worldview that puts physical knowing — or its poorer cousin, physical modelling — on a pedestal. (Image from 


The above quote is the definition of “unsustainable” to me. I see this wisdom enshrined in the biblical story of the Tree of Knowledge that some of our ancestors were advised not to eat from before their curiosity and the trickiness of a snake got the better of them and taught them this lesson. I facilitated a workshop last weekend for healing professionals called “Space for Spaceholders” in order to create space for their nourishment. The embodied metaphor for nourishment that came to me was the placenta. 



Though churches and houses were built on their sacred sites were intended as acts of dominance and genocide, they ensured that those sacred places survived as sites of worship. Today Wuradjuri people are going back to those places and re-membering their language and culture: