Lindsay Hopkins

Waste is one of the few things society looks down on... while refusing to look upstream. I've always found it fascinating how quickly we blame the communities living amongst the waste, as though they somehow created it. The truth? Most of that waste arrived there because the rest of us bought it, used it, and discarded it. We admire shiny recycling bins in affluent suburbs, yet look down on the informal waste collector pulling value from a landfill or riverbank. We see overflowing settlements and assume the people living there created the problem. We rarely stop to ask where the waste came from in the first place. The informal sector did not manufacture the plastic. They didn't market it. They didn't sell it. And in most cases - they did not buy it. In many cases, they're the only ones trying to recover it. Maybe the problem isn't just how we value waste. Maybe it's how we value people? If something is discarded, we assume it's worthless... But the circular economy teaches us something different. Nothing has value until someone sees it. Perhaps it's time we stopped looking down at the people working at the end of the value chain... and started looking upstream at the systems that created the problem in the first place. Because circularity isn't just about materials. It's about changing the way we think.

🤖 Apparently, AI is taking over the world... and in a bad way, yes, I get how and why - but for now, can we turn flip the conversation? I seem to be having a very different experience. A recent LinkedIn discussion suggested AI is making us less human. It made me smile. Because my line of work has always been about bringing humanity back into business; in other words, I am positively contributing to the data, yes? Sustainability. ESG. Employee wellbeing. Health. Community. Purpose. Finding practical solutions to complex problems. So when I sit down with AI, those are the conversations we have. It doesn't tell me what to think. It challenges my thinking, helps me organise my ideas, pushes me to explore different perspectives, and sometimes even calls me out when my assumptions need testing. It's become a thinking partner. The more I use it, the more I realise something... AI reflects the questions we ask. Ask it how to manipulate people... You'll probably get one type of conversation. Ask it how to build healthier communities, create meaningful partnerships, reduce waste, improve employee wellbeing, or help businesses become more sustainable... You'll get a very different one. Maybe AI isn't making us more or less human. Maybe it's simply amplifying what we choose to bring to the conversation. As for me? I'm trying to leave the world a little better than I found it. So that's exactly what AI and I spend our coffee breaks talking about. I'd love to know... How has AI surprised you? Has it changed the way you think - or simply helped you think differently? Ps, I don't own a robot... this is an AI-generated image :)

Climate resilience isn't about surviving disasters. It's about designing communities that don't become disasters in the first place. When people talk about climate resilience, the conversation often starts with solar panels, batteries and backup power. They're important, 100% - and I realise we are in a reactive position, but we also still have time to be proactive, and with that comes a different starting point. Resilience is a farmer who can still grow food during a drought.. It's a neighbourhood that doesn't flood because wetlands were protected.. It's local food systems that don't rely on one fragile supply chain.. It's businesses that can keep operating because they planned ahead.. It's communities that know one another before the emergency happens.. Energy is just 1 part of that story. So are water, food, housing, healthcare, education and the natural ecosystems that quietly protect us every day. The strongest communities aren't simply the ones with the best technology. They're the ones that have invested in people, nature and preparedness long before the storm arrives. They are designed to thrive through it.

Are we investing in health... or in treating illness? I'm staying with friends at the moment, and over breakfast we got onto the topic of bread. They were genuinely excited to show me what they called the "best of both worlds" – a loaf that looks like white bread but is marketed as brown bread, with a little more fibre. It felt like they'd found a healthier option without sacrificing the taste and texture they love. It got me thinking. How often do we accept health claims at face value without asking a bigger question? Not, "Does this loaf contain more fibre?" But rather... How much fibre do we actually need every day, and how much of that is this loaf really providing? For years, I've made different choices. I spend more on the quality of the food I buy, particularly for my son. We prioritise minimally processed foods, ingredients we recognise, and products that genuinely nourish us. It's not because it's fashionable. It's because I've always viewed food as one of our first lines of defence, not our last. Ironically, while many households try to save money on food, they often spend thousands of rand each month on medical aid, chronic medication and healthcare. Those costs have become normal, while investing in preventative nutrition is often seen as expensive. What if we've got it the wrong way around? As someone who works in sustainability, I can't help seeing the wider system. Food isn't just about nutrition. It's connected to agriculture, healthcare, productivity, public spending and even environmental outcomes. Perhaps one of the greatest healthcare innovations isn't another pill or another medical device. Perhaps it's helping people better understand what's already on their plate. This isn't about one loaf of bread. It's about asking whether we're designing a food system that helps people stay well - or one that quietly accepts they'll eventually become patients. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

This is a deeply personal post; I feel compelled to write it, though. I used to think I was speaking about systems change. Then my body interrupted the narrative. During a PechaKucha talk I was meant to deliver cleanly, I started as planned - structured, sharp, controlled. Halfway through, my epilepsy began to surface. I ended up in hospital shortly after. The talk changed shape that day. And something unexpected happened afterwards. People came up to me - not to discuss compassion, donor fatigue, waste systems, or circular economies - but to ask about mental wellbeing. I remember thinking, “I don’t struggle with mental health.” But I’ve learned to sit with that differently now. Because burnout doesn’t always announce itself. Trauma from frontline work doesn’t always look like collapse. Sometimes it looks like functioning - until it doesn’t. The work we do in impact spaces asks a lot of the nervous system. More than we admit. More than we measure. I’m still unlearning what I thought resilience was. And slowly learning that awareness isn’t weakness - it’s data. Sometimes the system we need to redesign… is us. I would love to hear from others, about burnout and PTSD. www.youtube.com/@Onward.africa - video

Three climate-tech ventures. One clear pattern. Yesterday I spent time with founders working across Africa’s plastic and circular economy space - and what stood out wasn’t just innovation, but the tension between science, scale, and reality. From challenging plastic at source with biotech-enhanced moulded fibre, to rethinking packaging through climate-resilient cactus biomass.. the 3rd is pushing something even more radical - decentralised, point-of-use bioplastic fabrication. Different models. Same ambition: eliminate waste before it exists. But here’s the real question I kept coming back to as a judge: Where does innovation break when it meets procurement, infrastructure, and human behaviour? A few reflections for founders: * Science is not enough without cost realism * Local supply chains will make or break scale * “Circular” only works if the system already exists to receive it * And hype does not survive first customer friction What excites me is not perfection - it’s directional honesty. These founders are building in the gap between what should work and what actually does. Any other founders having the same questions, challenges and concerns?

Last night I went to buy sweet potatoes, slice in half, roast, and add a topping. They were all HUGE - 1 would be enough to feed a family of 6! I wanted small ones, to serve individually. Retailers are setting demand. Farmers have to produce. Consumers have no say. We overproduce, over-standardise, and then act surprised when waste piles up. We keep talking about waste like it happens at the bin. It doesn’t. It happens long before that. In the restaurant space, chefs are ordering ingredients they never see wasted. #jelle has the perfect solution to this exact problem! It’s broken telephone… from soil to shelf. And everyone is doing their job “correctly” inside a system that is fundamentally misaligned. It’s visibility, because once you can SEE the system, you can finally redesign it. Not optimise the broken one - just rebuild it.

"Making invisible systems, visible." Some of the most powerful intelligent systems are not flashy. They quietly solve friction we’ve normalised for years: • food waste no one measures, • supply chain blind spots, • unnecessary packaging, • inefficient procurement, • disconnected reporting, • rising operational costs. The future of AI and intelligent systems is not only about robots or chatbots. It’s about visibility. Because once businesses can truly see: • where waste happens, • where inefficiency sits, • where costs leak, • and how behaviour impacts systems, better decisions become possible. Smarter systems don’t replace people. They help people make better decisions faster. #INSPIRED #ArtificialIntelligence #IntelligentSystems #Data #SystemsThinking #FutureOfWork