What leadership has to do with shells
The other night, I was sitting with my seven-year-old, admiring my small shell collection - gathered on beaches far away in both time and space. It's been so many years since I picked them up that I’ve forgotten where they’re from, but vague memories of warm sand by a sleeping volcano in the Philippines and a sunset over the sea on the Yucatán Peninsula rise from the depths…
My daughter held up a reddish piece of coral and asked when she might be able to dive among corals and collect big shells on a beach. I couldn’t bring myself to lie. I told her I didn’t know. I told her I didn’t know if there would be any coral reefs left when she grows up. I told her that ocean acidification might mean there won’t even be any shells. She began to cry. I held her in my arms and apologized—both for my insensitive honesty and on behalf of all adults. I’ve been part of destroying your planet and your future, and it’s eating me up inside.
We’ve heard about ocean and lake acidification for a long time, but it’s definitely an issue that’s fallen into the shadows compared to global warming. Yet it’s not without reason that the issue is sometimes called the evil twin of global warming. The two are, of course, connected—both caused by our carbon dioxide emissions. Pre-industrial ocean pH levels averaged around 8.15. But because the oceans have absorbed enormous amounts of CO₂, the pH has dropped to 8.08. In just 25 years, it's projected to drop to 7.95, as emissions continue at staggering levels. These may seem like small reductions, but they will have catastrophic effects on life on Earth. In the end, it might not be the warming that kills us—but the acidification.
Studies show that all marine life dependent on calcium for structure—like the mussels, shells, and corals my daughter and I were admiring—will struggle to form their shells. They’ll simply corrode, dissolve, and vanish. This threatens to trigger the collapse of life in the oceans—the planet’s largest ecosystem—on which we all, directly or indirectly, depend.
Earlier that same day, I had attended a seminar on climate leadership in our industry—something sorely lacking, given the little time we have left. There was very interesting research presented, including on reuse and the challenges it brings. One graph showed our remaining carbon budget and just how low the emissions per square meter of GFA must be in the future if we’re to meet the 1.5-degree target. The graph made it clear beyond any doubt: a radical transformation of the building and property sector is absolutely necessary.
But there’s a fundamental flaw with the entire idea of a "remaining carbon budget." We shouldn’t be emitting carbon like we do in the first place. If we are to talk in terms of budgets, Sweden is deeply in the red due to our enormous historical emissions. If anyone has a budget left to spend, it’s not us—perhaps the people of Laos or Cameroon.
You sometimes hear that Sweden is proof it’s possible to decouple emissions from growth. But that’s another fallacy. Because, shockingly, we haven’t actually reduced our emissions in Sweden—we’ve simply switched from burning coal and oil to burning wood and garbage. Wood doesn’t count, since it’s considered renewable. But tell me this: does the shell, slowly dissolving in the sea, care whether the CO₂ came from oil or from trees? How long does it take for the forest to regrow and reabsorb that carbon? 25 years? Then it’s already too late—by then we’ll be at pH 7.95. Or 50 years? By then, we might all be gone.
In Finland, alarming reports are emerging: due to climate change and a catastrophic clear-cutting strategy, the forest has become a source of emissions(!), instead of a carbon sink. We have to rethink—radically and immediately. From now on, every building project must be a carbon sink.
But the question I came to the seminar with—leadership—was barely addressed. LFM30 was represented, and sure, they’re an excellent example of local leadership. But the problem is, it’s too local. Once again, the shell doesn’t care whether the CO₂ came from Malmö, Hultsfred, or Boden. We must act at a national level, where we have the power to enforce the bans and financial incentives that are needed. As long as it remains legal—and cheaper—to destroy than to preserve, everyone will continue to destroy.
We must save what can still be saved. No issue is more important than this. Because otherwise, we simply don’t know if your seven-year-old will even celebrate her 30th birthday—let alone on a beach, collecting seashells.
