Sparks of Regeneration was a global invitation to innovators, disruptors, and changemakers to submit bold ideas for regenerative futures.
Through this open call, we looked for ideas and solutions that can bring regeneration to life in areas such as nature conservation, climate, food systems, well-being, education, governance, and beyond.
We would like to introduce our jury.
Our jurors bring a wealth of lived experience and diverse expertise spanning from ecology, Indigenous rights, governance, education, systems thinking, and regenerative design. Together, they will review applications with care, curiosity, and integrity, helping to identify the ideas and people that hold transformative potential for all life on Earth.
Listening to Nature Perspectives: Gal Zanir on AI for the More-Than-Human World
Name: Gal Zanir Location: Israel Initiative Title: Nature Perspectives Short Description of Initiative: Nature Perspectives enables people to reconnect with nature around them through meaningful conversations. We are simulating nonhuman perspectives and enabling every person to imagine and relate to the lived experiences of other beings. Sectors: AI, Conservation Technology, Environmental Education Website: www.natureperspectives.earth
Gal is a passionate wildlife biologist and entrepreneur at the forefront of conservation innovation, with deep expertise in leveraging emerging technologies to drive systemic change. He co-founded Wild Biotech Ltd, where he led global expeditions to unravel the secrets of wildlife microbiomes. He holds a Master’s in Conservation Leadership from the University of Cambridge, where he explored “The Rethinking of Conservation Paradigms.”
Nature Perspectives is the culmination of his lifelong devotion to nature and a testament to his ingenuity. Gal and his team are embarking on an exciting journey to simulate more-than-human perspectives, using AI to enable meaningful conversations with the natural world. Through immersive, conversational experiences, they seek to reimagine our relationships with the more-than-human world, promote nature’s agency in our societies, and spark new scientific endeavours.
In this conversation, Gal shares how his childhood sparked a lifelong devotion to nature, why empathy and agency are key to reimagining conservation, and how AI can help us see—and listen to—the natural world in profoundly new ways.
Every innovator’s story starts with a spark. If you had to pick one defining moment that set you on this path, what would it be?
As a child, I would run off to the hills near my hometown. I spent so much time there that I grew familiar with every rock, plant, and path—and with the many individual animals sharing that tiny local jewel with me. I remember countless moments of connection and shared understanding with the other species I came to know.
I also vividly remember the day the bulldozers arrived, destroying this beloved ecosystem to make way for construction. I felt helpless, watching the homes of all my fellow non-humans being demolished. As a child who had come to know and love this place, it was both devastating and motivating.
That experience cultivated my lifelong devotion to nature and my commitment to reigniting our connection with it in the most creative ways possible, so that other children might experience that same sense of connection I was lucky enough to feel.
What system are you working to transform, and why does it need to change?
The system I'm working to transform is our broader society, specifically, our relationships with nature and the limited agency nature has within human systems. At Nature Perspectives, we see nature conservation fundamentally as an issue of empathy and agency. When nature’s voice is absent in courtrooms deciding its fate, nature lacks agency. If people ignore nature rather than act for it in their daily lives, that too is a form of disempowerment.
We seek to transform society by promoting nature’s agency, either by directly giving nature a voice or by fostering empathetic connections, so nature gains agency in human consciousness. Ultimately, we are directly reshaping the way people perceive, interact, and relate to the rest of nature.
Photo Credit: Gal Zanir
How does your initiative challenge dominant narratives or conventional models? What makes it truly “Unearthodox”?
In a time when people are increasingly encouraged to connect with their technological devices—cars, phones, or even home assistants—we’re harnessing the extraordinary capabilities of large language models not to further deepen this trend, but to redirect it. We use AI’s unique ability to foster connection through conversation and extend it to the one thing we truly need to reconnect with: nature. In doing so, we challenge conventional tech narratives by offering a radically different use of cutting-edge technology.
We also shift conservation away from a detached, species-level view rooted in data alone. Instead, we focus on individual stories and emotional connections and actively aim to help people build personal, empathetic relationships with the more-than-human world, all grounded in scientific integrity.
Finally, we challenge the assumption that conservation must rely solely on charitable funding. We’re building Nature Perspectives as a For-Purpose enterprise, one that delivers measurable impact and generates sustainable revenue. This enables us to fairly compensate our team and reinvest in expanding our impact. It’s a financially viable model for conservation that diverges from the standard charity-based approach, which often struggles to sustain meaningful change.
How can technology serve as a bridge to nature reconnection rather than a barrier?
We treat our technology as a tool. A first spark to motivate people to engage more deeply with nature through gamification, shared experiences, and accessible ecological knowledge. Every aspect of Nature Perspectives is carefully designed to promote direct, unmediated interactions with the natural world. Our interfaces intentionally draw attention outward to the natural entity being engaged with. Our conversations prompt people to look closer, listen, smell, imagine, and touch. Technology, for us, is the catalyst that leads users toward deeper emotional and sensory connections, ultimately inspiring lasting relationships with nature.
That unnoticed tree in your neighbourhood becomes visible and engaging as our technology motivates you to uncover its unique story and imagine its lived experience.
Photo Credit: Gal Zanir
Innovation often requires letting go. What beliefs, assumptions, or practices have you had to unlearn to create real change?
Initially, I wasn't fond of using technology for nature conservation—to put it mildly. I believed technology symbolised our denial of problematic relationships with nature. But interacting with ChatGPT in its early days changed that. I realised that, perhaps for the first time, technology could rekindle our connection with nature in ways I had never imagined. Still, I know the journey toward meaningful change is ongoing, and I’ll likely need to unlearn many more assumptions along the way.
What ethical considerations come with using AI and immersive tech in conservation?
The primary ethical consideration for Nature Perspectives is respectful representation. We grapple with questions like: “How do you decide which personality represents each natural entity?”—and our answer is: we don’t. Instead, we guide our AI models to generate scientifically grounded perspectives that move beyond human biases. We want people to encounter the richness and complexity of nature by opening the door to other ways of seeing.
We also integrate diverse cultural perspectives on species, ensuring interactions are both culturally resonant and sensitive. Most importantly, we stay in close ongoing dialogue with our users, listening, learning and addressing any ethical challenges as they arise.
What’s one inspiring insight you’ve uncovered through simulating more-than-human perspectives?
Wow—every time I interact with a simulated nature perspective, I learn something unexpected, surprising, or awe-inspiring. Nature Perspectives just makes these more-than-human stories accessible.
I remember during the very first week of the initiative, I walked around my city, imagining all these individual more-than-humans stories that are all around us, and that we’re usually missing. One story that really stuck with me was from a lonesome tree standing in the city square. Through simulating its perspective and engaging in conversation, I discovered it wasn’t always alone—it was the last remnant of a whole sycamore fig plantation, long before the square was built. The tree shared how it used to communicate with other trees through their root systems, and how locals gathered its fruits for jam. Most moving of all, it told me the reason it’s still standing is because people protested in the 1930s to protect the trees. That tree, which I had passed by countless times, now carries a whole new meaning.
Photo Credit: Gal Zanir
Beyond funding, what kinds of support—emotional, relational, or otherwise—are essential for innovators to thrive?
It’s not a cliché—entrepreneurship, especially with radical innovation, is a rollercoaster. You’re often stuck in chicken-or-egg loops: no funding, no team, no prototype, no pilots, no proof of concept. At that point, you need someone (a funder) who gets it—someone who believes in the vision before there’s anything tangible and gives you space to build something meaningful.
What’s equally crucial is peer support. Getting to connect with others on similar paths—or who’ve already been through the ups and downs—makes all the difference. That’s what I found in the Exploration Co-Lab cohort: a rare space to share openly, support each other, and feel a little less alone in the chaos of creation.
What motivated you to join the Exploration Co-Lab cohort?
The people. The inspiring individuals in this cohort were a big part of what drew me in. Some were already innovators I admired. The opportunity to work alongside and learn from them is incredibly rewarding.
Fast-forward 10 years—what do you hope your work has made possible?
We aim to inspire generations to cherish and deeply connect with the more-than-human world. Just as nature documentaries have moved people to dedicate their lives to conservation, I hope that Nature Perspectives will inspire a global generation of young individuals to form meaningful relationships with nature. If we succeed, this new medium of connection will nurture a generation that not only appreciates nature but dedicates their lives to caring for it.
This insight is part of a series highlighting our first cohort of the Exploration Co-Lab. Read more about the Exploration Co-Lab here.
You can also read more insight pieces like this here.
The content of this piece represents the author’s own views and does not necessarily represent the views of Unearthodox or of any of its collaborating institutions.
Sarah Queblatin on the Art of Bioregional Healing and Soulful Ecosystem Restoration
Name: Sarah Queblatin Location: Philippines
Initiative Title: Living Story Landscapes Short Description of Initiative: Living Story Landscapes envisions the healing of ecosystems with historical trauma from places of refuge into sanctuaries of life. Using a trauma-informed approach to ecosystem protection and restoration with communities healing from colonization, climate emergencies, and conflict, it works with the process of “restoring” and re-storying” collective belonging and identity with nature, in service of a bioregion’s resilience and regeneration, for both human and non-human life.It draws on cultural memory and imagination, bridging the arts and sciences, and working in collaboration with artists, wisdom keepers, regenerative innovators, the academe, local governments, and social enterprises.
Sarah Queblatin works with cultural memory and imagination as a response to the polycrisis. As a regenerative design and development specialist, she has been weaving collective experiences across peacebuilding, biocultural heritage, mental health, and humanitarian innovation for over 15 years. She founded Green Releaf Initiative to advance regenerative solutions in disaster and displacement contexts. Sarah also serves as a LUSH Spring Prize juror, a council member of the Global Ecovillage Network Oceania and Asia, a founding member of Permaculture for Refugees, and an inner council member of the UNDP-convened Conscious Food Systems Alliance.
Her initiative, Living Story Landscapes, envisions the healing of ecosystems with historical trauma, transforming places of refuge into sanctuaries of life. Grounded in a trauma-informed approach to ecosystem protection and restoration, it works with communities healing from colonization, climate emergencies, and conflict. The initiative focuses on both "restoring" and "re-storying" collective belonging and identity with nature, in service of a bioregion’s resilience and regeneration, for both human and non-human life.
Amid the backdrop of the polycrisis, Sarah’s work seeks to shape existing or emerging learning centres for bioregional regeneration by drawing from cultural memory and imagination. Her approach bridges arts and science by collaborating with artists, wisdom keepers, regenerative innovators, academics, local governments, and social enterprises.
Every innovator’s story starts with a spark. If you had to pick one defining moment that set you on this path, what would it be?
When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I embarked on an inner healing journey. I left my work in humanitarian assistance for a typhoon-impacted community and began to examine the deeper systemic issues that disasters reveal and invite us to look within. During this time, while caring for her, I paused my Expressive Arts studies and explored other forms of disaster: personal, physical, emotional, social, and ecological. A pattern began to emerge, showing how deeply interconnected our personal and collective experiences are, and how our lives are entwined with the Earth—whatever we do to it, we also do to ourselves.
Art became a lens through which I could understand this transition from illusion to intuition to imagination. This perspective was affirmed through my work with cancer patients and with communities on the frontlines of climate and conflict—those my non-profit supported. Fast forward 12 years, and those patterns continue to mirror frameworks for both personal and collective healing.
What system are you working to transform, and why does it need to change?
My work exists within the context of the polycrisis, focusing on communities at the intersection of climate change, conflict, and historical colonization. Many of these bioregions are home to many of the world’s biodiversity hotspots and carbon sinks. They also hold a wealth of Indigenous wisdom that has persisted and evolved over centuries, and can offer powerful tools for resilience.
Even though many Indigenous and local communities have a smaller carbon footprint than wealthier, more industrialized nations, they remain among the most vulnerable to climate impacts. This is because their lives are deeply intertwined with natural ecosystems. When empowered to protect and restore their homelands, these communities can play a vital role in climate mitigation by keeping carbon in the ground, restoring watersheds, improving soil health and air quality, and nurturing the overall well-being of a bioregion.
Photo by Sarah Queblatin for Living Story Landscapes. Listening circles with indigenous wisdom keepers with University of the Philippines Cebu.
How does your initiative challenge dominant narratives or conventional models? What makes it truly “Unearthodox”?
There are already numerous development models aimed at tackling climate vulnerability, biodiversity loss, and large-scale ecosystem restoration. However, many are shaped by international development institutions and bodies that follow top-down priorities. The lack of inclusion and local leadership in the design and implementation of ecosystem regeneration plans perpetuates the colonial heritage of the global North.
Engaging a bioregional approach invites us to reclaim our narratives of place and our sense of belonging. Within a bioregional governance model, we engage in participatory ways of analyzing and addressing ecosystem challenges specific to a bioregion. Through storytelling and creative practices rooted in arts and culture, we invite a deeper sense of ownership and accountability to place and build empathy for the realities faced by those who inhabit it. This approach deepens how people understand the challenges of their ecosystem, and feels more relatable than technical planning tools.
How can cultural memory and Indigenous wisdom serve as tangible tools for community and climate resilience?
Indigenous wisdom and biodiversity reflect centuries of resilience and adaptation to specific ecosystems. If we can work with native trees, heritage crops, and culture bearers to guide the resilience of a bioregion, we can co-create ecosystems that are more robust and regenerative in the face of the growing polycrisis.
Photo 1 by Jaff Abdulwahab for Green Releaf Initiative. Women IDPs of Marawi at at the vermicompost site they built. Photo 2 by Photo by Department of Education Kalinga. TEK and Permaculture learning site in Kalinga, Philippines.
Innovation often requires letting go. What beliefs, assumptions, or practices have you had to unlearn to create real change?
For many years, I struggled to trust my own voice. I believed others, especially those with influence, could speak for me. Founding and running my own non-profit helped me believe in myself and in my ideas, even when they didn’t align with mainstream thinking.
I had to unlearn the conditioning that told me I wasn’t good enough, that I was too idealistic, or too emotionally invested, “a bleeding heart” archetype. I often judged myself for feeling the suffering of others a lot, and that my response to this was to shape solutions that would come from wholeness and not from fragmented solutions. I often judged myself for feeling others’ suffering deeply, and for wanting to create holistic, not fragmented, solutions. That’s not a mainstream view in my country, where development is often siloed: food, economy, energy, etc.
I had to begin listening to my own voice and trust that my heart, rooted in compassion, would attract the right people and resources to bring these ideas to life.
What local practices or Indigenous wisdom keepers have most influenced your approach?
I’ve learned deeply from wisdom keepers around the world and, locally, from the Babaylans (shamans of the various ethnic groups of the pre-colonial Philippine islands) I’ve worked with and studied under. Ritual plays a central role: as a bridge between the human and spirit worlds, between the seen and unseen. It helps us facilitate forms of acknowledgement, requests, and reparations. Ritual is a powerful way of remembering the sacred. It gathers people to remember and connect with their ancestral heritage, their values, and, more importantly, the critical needs and priorities of their place. It strengthens our commitment to restore our relationship with nature and each other. And it can be embedded in any kind of work—governance, advocacy, enterprise, and beyond.
Photo 1 by Sarah Queblatin. Opening ritual during the indigenous peoples gathering at COP21 with Chief Phil Lane, Jr. and Janet Dolera, a Babaylan from the Philippines. Photo 2 by Sarah QueblatinChalk art of indigenous weaves of the tribes of Mindanao for the signing of the peace agreement between the Philippine government and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front.
What has been your biggest lesson in making the invisible visible—whether sacred sites, cultural erosion, or the deep interconnection between nature and human identity?
It may not be an exact expression of the invisible that emerges from this process, but it is the making of it that matters. It is how we create meaning from the wisdom and stories held in place that becomes important. The intangible coexists with the tangible as an expression of its “soul.”
This is part of the human journey—or in the case of my project, it is part of a place and its people discovering their relationship to soul: the soul of their forest, their rivers, their land.
Art can serve as that bridge, translating what is felt into paintings, music, or embodied expression. This work gives value to the relational alongside the rational. The cognitive with the affective. The data with the story. Without narratives, the information we gather—facts, numbers, charts—has no meaning.
Photo 1 by Four Worlds International A memento with Mamo Senchina of the Kogi people of Sierra Nevada Santa Marta of Colombia during a gathering of the indigenous peoples from Abya Yala. Photo 2 by Sarah Queblatin. A vision of elders from the Kankanay people of Sagada, Mountain province as part of their disaster risk reduction planning.
Beyond funding, what kinds of support—emotional, relational, or otherwise—are essential for innovators to thrive?
Having a support system with mentors and coaches—whether someone who guides you or a peer you learn with as you exchange insights—is essential. Innovation work is not easy; you’re often setting a course that no one, or very few, have walked before. It can be a lonely path, shaping something that sits outside the norm.
I’ve also realized how important communication support is. Writing doesn’t come easily to me, and I need more time to focus on the actual work. Documenting the process, creating content, and promoting the initiative are not easy tasks to do alone.
Fast-forward 10 years—what do you hope your work has made possible?
In 10 years, we will have passed the 2030 threshold—both the point at which climate impacts may become irreversible, and the target for meeting the Sustainable Development Goals. I hope that before then, we will have established foundational bioregional learning sites in critical ecosystems, enabling communities to address their climate vulnerabilities. And by 2035, that we will have doubled the number of bioregions engaged in this work.
Photo by Community volunteer. Learning about the earth spirituality of the Tagbanwa people of Palawan, Philippines.
This insight is part of a series highlighting our first cohort of the Exploration Co-Lab. Read more about the Exploration Co-Lab here.
You can also read more insight pieces like this here.
The content of this piece represents the author’s own views and does not necessarily represent the views of Unearthodox or of any of its collaborating institutions.
Gaming for Wildlife: Gautam Shah’s Quest to Make Nature Engagement Mainstream
Name: Gautam Shah Location: Kenya Initiative Title: Wild Ideas Lab Short Description of Initiative: An experimental lab/studio dedicated to finding transformation solutions to engage the public with wildlife and nature Sectors: Conservation, Technology, Gaming, Entertainment, Media, Education Website: www.internetofelephants.com Social Media: @ioelephants on X, LinkedIn and Instagram
Gautam Shah is the founder of Internet of Elephants, a social enterprise pioneering new ways to connect people with wildlife through digital experiences. A National Geographic and TED Fellow, Gautam believes the future of conservation depends not just on policy or science, but on making nature an accessible and meaningful part of people’s daily lives.
By blending mobile gaming, augmented reality, and real-time animal data, Internet of Elephants transforms conservation storytelling by bringing audiences closer to wild animals in ways never before imagined. Their mission is to build a new global culture of public engagement with nature, one that isn’t limited to documentaries, donations, or zoos, but instead meets people where they are: on their phones, in their games, and through interactive digital spaces.
Gautam launched the Wild Ideas Lab, a groundbreaking experimental hub dedicated to designing and testing the most innovative digital tools for wildlife engagement. Inspired by the MIT Media Lab model, the Wild Ideas Lab will push the boundaries of conservation tech, with the ambitious goal of forging direct emotional bonds between one billion people and wild animals. By proving that mass public engagement can drive market shifts and policy change, the Lab hopes to redefine the role of digital media in environmental action.
In this conversation, Gautam shares his bold vision for the future of wildlife storytelling, the challenges of breaking conservation’s status quo, and the reasons he believes the biggest untapped force in conservation is people.
Every innovator’s story starts with a spark. If you had to pick one defining moment that set you on this path, what would it be?
I was sitting alone on a beach in Antarctica, with only a penguin for company. This was my umpteenth spectacular wildlife experience, an indulgence my career with Accenture had afforded me. But in that particular moment, it all felt very selfish: the only person benefiting from these experiences was me.
Countless people were making those experiences possible through their relentless work and sacrifices to conserve nature, often without any recognition or support. That was the turning point. I knew then that I no longer wanted to indulge in “wildlife gluttony”. Instead, I wanted to figure out a way to do something meaningful. It took a few years before I quit my job and eventually founded Internet of Elephants, but that moment with the penguin was where the journey truly began. I took a photograph to capture that special day:
Photo Credit: Gautam Shah
What system are you working to transform, and why does it need to change
I want to transform the way the public engages with and supports nature conservation.
For 70 years, we relied on the same three approaches: wildlife documentaries, donation campaigns, and zoos. While each has its role, they are either limited in reach or come with unintended consequences or collateral damage. If we truly want long-term conservation outcomes, we need to touch people’s hearts and minds and create a bottom-up movement of public support for the planet. Otherwise, conservation will always be an uphill battle, fighting against the tide.
How does your initiative challenge dominant narratives or conventional models? What makes it truly “Unearthodox”?
In several ways!
First, prioritising public engagement as the key driver for conservation is unconventional. Conservation efforts typically focus on either on-the-ground interventions or top-down regulations. Public engagement is often seen as a “soft” factor, difficult to measure, rather than a strategic priority.
Secondly, we’re using games and digital experiences. These sit outside the comfort zone of the conservation sector, which is much more used to the medium of film and photography. At a major wildlife film festival I attended just two years ago, the discussion wasn’t even about cutting-edge engagement strategies—it was about whether to use social media at all. Meanwhile, 3.5 billion people are playing games, investing billions of hours and dollars every year—yet conservation hasn’t tapped into this potential! Instead, the world keeps producing another David Attenborough documentary because it's a safe bet, rather than taking bold risks. Finally, we’re building an experimental lab designed to take big swings and test bold ideas that will, most likely, fail most of the time. Conservation is desperate for entities willing to take risks, yet few organisations receive funding to experiment, fail, and refine their approach. This is exactly what the conservation sector really needs: entities that will take risks and will keep taking those risks until solutions are found.
Photo Credit: Internet of Elephants
How can digital engagement tools shift the way people connect with wildlife and conservation?
It is all about infusing little bits and pieces of nature into people’s everyday lives. No matter what they do, we need to ask the big question: How can wildlife and nature be a little part of it?
Imagine if your daily commute took you through a digital forest, if music concerts were set in virtual deserts, or if animals surrounded you at the bar—not in real life, but through technology.
When these things aren’t physically possible, technology can simulate them! If we can get people to spend just 5–10 minutes a day engaging with an orangutan, a hummingbird, or a rainforest through their mobile device, nature becomes part of their consciousness. It becomes something they talk about at work, follow in the news, and care about.
Think about sports, music and politics and the role they play in our daily lives. Wildlife and nature deserve a seat at that table.
Photo Credit: Internet of Elephants
What ethical considerations come with using AI and immersive tech in conservation?
Plenty—and I don’t always have the answers. But I constantly ponder some key questions:
How much do the means justify the ends? For example, if a drug cartel leader had a soft spot for elephants and offered $100M to save them, would we accept? Would we take a donation from a corrupt dictator? And very front and centre, are we okay with encouraging gambling if it creates the conservation outcomes we are looking for?
Are we unintentionally discouraging real-world experiences? If technology provides an incredible nature experience, does it reduce the desire to explore the real thing?
How much anthropomorphism is too much?
What is the right balance in storytelling between delivering a clear message versus creating space for people to interpret it in their own way?
What’s been the most surprising reaction to your innovation?
I get the sense that people don’t take it seriously.
They see games as “cute” or “for kids.” They think public engagement isn’t as important as on-the-ground conservation. And I’ve never understood why so many people struggle to see the bigger picture, to think holistically and strategically about this. No one wants to step outside their comfort zone. And that still surprises me.
Beyond funding, what kinds of support—emotional, relational, or otherwise—are essential for innovators to thrive?
I advise anyone and everyone to have a partner. Innovation is an emotional burden to bear on your own. It’s a practical burden. It’s brutal to do it all alone – the marketing, the accounting, the investor relations, etc. You need someone to share the ups and downs, the joys and the challenges, someone who has real skin in the game.
That’s why I don’t put much stock in “advisors”. They don’t have anything at stake. You need people who think about your idea even when you’re not in the room.
You also need help with the mundane stuff—taxes, legalities, immigration, accounting. These things won’t make your company, but getting them wrong can break it. Having the right support, the ones who can steer you in a good direction, allows you to focus on what matters: innovation.
Fast-forward 10 years—what do you hope your work has made possible?
For myself, I hope it has given me a sense of fulfilment and that the sacrifices I made since the day I sat with that penguin were completely worth it. I know that no matter what we do, it will never be enough. But I’m hoping to be able to sit back, raise a glass to what we have built and feel the tears in my eyes.
For the sector, I want there to be ten other Internet of Elephants in existence and hundreds of other people working on digital tools for wildlife engagement! I want us to have “sector rivals” or for this field to become as mainstream as wildlife documentaries.
For wildlife and nature, I hope that we can have at least ten examples of places in the world that have directly benefited from our work. To have tangible proof that our work has directly improved ecosystems, and point to places where nature is thriving thanks to what we created.
For people, I hope millions will see and empathise with nature in a deeper and more satisfying way. That engaging with wildlife, even if just for a few minutes a day, made them feel better about themselves.
My biggest hope is that we have created the foundation for how, over the next 10 to 20 years, hundreds of millions of people will spend 5-10 minutes with wildlife every day. I hope this small but consistent connection enriches their lives—and in turn, helps transform countless places around the world for the better!
This insight is part of a series highlighting our first cohort of the Exploration Co-Lab. Read more about the Exploration Co-Lab here.
You can also read more insight pieces like this here.
The content of this piece represents the author’s own views and does not necessarily represent the views of Unearthodox or of any of its collaborating institutions.
Eight months later: Reflecting on Unearthodox’s regenerative retreat with Rokhaya Diallo
In this Q&A, we speak with Rokhaya Diallo, described by The New York Times as “one of France’s most prominent anti-racism activists.” She is a French journalist, author, filmmaker, and activist whose work powerfully addresses racial, gender, and religious justice.
In November 2024, Unearthodox hosted a Regenerative Futures Retreat, an inspiring gathering of 40 thinkers and doers united by one shared goal: reimagining futures where all forms of life flourish together. Rhokaya was one of these thinkers and doers. Here is our conversation:
You recently participated in the Regenerative Futures retreat and wrote a deeply reflective article about it. What drew you to this gathering, and what were your first impressions when you arrived?
I was interested in many aspects of the gathering, because there's no doubt in my mind that the colonial and enslaving mindset, the one that led some humans to exploit others for profit, is the same mindset driving powerful entities and corporations to continue extracting fossil fuels for energy.
So, for me, with my interest in social justice and through my work, I wanted to be part of a group that was trying to challenge that mindset. That was the main motivation.
When I arrived at night, I was surprised by the setting - the place itself. It was an old castle in Italy. And actually, I even got lost trying to find my room! The atmosphere felt very mystical, almost disorienting.
There was something energetically charged in the air. Not in a negative way, but I definitely sensed something.
Even though I had received a list of the people who would be attending, I wasn’t sure where everyone stood on the topic, or what kinds of exercises we’d be doing together.
And even for myself, I’m not an expert in this field. So I questioned whether I really belonged in that space.
Photo Credit: Diego Diaz Morales
Much of the conversation often starts with ecosystems, land or climate, but regeneration also invites us to reflect on our personal connection to the natural world. How would you describe your own relationship with nature, and has it evolved over time, especially through your work in social justice and storytelling?
I’m not really a fan of the idea that nature is on one side and human beings are on the other. That kind of division feels artificial. It’s something deeply rooted in a certain Western mindset. For instance, I’m French, and I come from a culture that tends to value reason over feelings. But I see myself and all humans as part of nature. My relationship with nature is mostly about accepting that I’m just one element amongst many.
Being human doesn’t make me more valuable than other parts of the natural world. When I think about what’s living and what has life, I connect that to social justice. We often overvalue reason and, as a result, certain lives — male lives, white lives, human lives — are seen as more important than others. That mindset has led to the marginalisation of many life forms.
So, my understanding of being part of the world is about inclusion, not just of humans, but of all life. Even though I’ve always lived in urban areas, I don’t feel disconnected from nature. I’m not surrounded by buildings in a way that cuts me off from the natural world.
Through many conversations, I’ve come to understand that regeneration is something rooted within us. It’s not something external that we need to acquire. It comes from knowledge and experiences that have often been erased — especially those belonging to Indigenous peoples, whose wisdom and identities have been suppressed by colonialism.
To me, regeneration means reconnecting with what’s already inside us. It’s about reclaiming common knowledge that has been silenced or diminished over time.
What would a regenerative future, rooted in equity and justice, look like to you in practical terms? / What does truly regenerative innovation/practice look like to you, and how can it challenge dominant narratives and extractive approaches?
I think there are so many things we take for granted that could and should be challenged. For example, I was part of a group that proposed we rethink the structures that shape nation-states. We explored the idea of moving beyond those artificial boundaries towards bioregionalism, organising space around natural elements like rivers and mountains.
The way we currently think about nation-states and national interests actually reinforces extractivism. It’s at the core of how the world is shaped today.
So, governing differently based on natural landscapes rather than political borders would also help us see ourselves differently.
In that future, nature wouldn’t be ruled over — it would be something we live alongside, something we coexist with.
We’ve long had this idea that we can control everything, shape everything to serve us, and place everything at our disposal. But that mindset doesn’t work. It’s not only ineffective, it’s deeply toxic.
Before you came to the retreat, did you feel the way the term “regenerative” was used here differed from how you understood or used it before? Was there a shift in your understanding—or was it more of an affirmation?
There was definitely a shift in my understanding of the word. But to be honest, I can’t say I really used it before. I still don’t use it that much now — but the idea behind it is much clearer to me.
To answer your question more directly, I’ve always cared about including those kinds of reflections in my writing. I’d say I’ve become more intentional in the way I frame the issues I cover. Yes.
Photo Credit: Diego Diaz Morales
Was there a specific moment or conversation during the retreat that shifted your perspective or sparked something new in you?
I wouldn’t point to a single moment, but rather the collection of individual connections.
Working in small groups allowed me to observe and engage in different ways. Even informal moments like meals or conversations in the restaurant helped me understand why we were there and who was around the table.
Was there anything that struck you about the group of people gathered?
Oh yes, absolutely.
There were so many women, which reminded me of the role women often take on: caring for everything, even the future of the world. I found myself thinking, “Maybe more men should be involved and take on their share of responsibility.”
I was also pleasantly surprised to see such a strong representation from the Global South. I hadn’t known what to expect in that regard, but it was a relief. I’m used to these kinds of reflections being led by people from the Global North, without fully considering the perspectives of those who live outside the Western world.
Photo Credit: Diego Diaz Morales
What are some of the most difficult questions or tensions you wrestled with during the retreat—and how are you continuing to hold or explore them?
Hmm… I think one of the hardest questions for me is this:
We’re all well-intentioned people, genuinely concerned about the future of the world. But how can we truly have an impact?
That’s the question I keep coming back to. It’s great to be thoughtful and intentional, but will real change come from a group of people gathered in a castle in northern Italy? I’m not sure.
Everyone was sincere, without a doubt. But at the end of the day, so much of what happens in the world depends on those in power—people who, frankly, may not care at all about what we were doing there.
That’s the conflict I’m grappling with. We absolutely need to be informed, challenged, and motivated. But at the same time, there are so many high-stakes issues that feel far beyond our influence.
If you could offer one piece of advice to someone ready to walk a regenerative path—but unsure where to begin - what would it be?
I think it would be to repair the chain of transmission that has been broken—broken by colonialism and by enslavement.
There is so much knowledge that has been lost or erased. Reconnecting with that knowledge would be a powerful first step.
I believe many of the answers we seek already exist in Indigenous knowledge systems.
For instance, I think about something that happened just a few weeks after our retreat. There was a devastating cyclone on Mayotte, a French island in the Indian Ocean.
I spoke with Gaël Musquet, a an expert in creating software to do with the anticipation, forecasting and prevention of natural disasters, who told me that before Mayotte became a French department, the local people had traditional ways of preparing for and responding to such cyclones. But that knowledge has been lost over time.
Now, the island is not only more vulnerable because of colonial neglect — it’s also lost access to the knowledge that once protected it.
To me, regeneration means returning to that path — recognising how much our ancestors knew about living in harmony with the rest of the natural world.
And not just reconnecting — but centring those knowledge systems. It’s not enough to simply revisit them; these communities should be leading the reflections. They should be at the heart of decision-making.
And what would your advice be to someone from the Western world, coming into this work — how can they embrace regeneration from your perspective?
To be humble. To decenter themselves.
That’s the most important thing — to approach this work with humility.
And I include myself in that, as part of the global minority, even if my ancestors come from the global majority.
We all need to decenter ourselves from what we think is right, from what we assume is important. That’s the starting point.
The content of this piece represents the author’s own views and does not necessarily represent the views of Unearthodox or of any of its collaborating institutions.
Reconnecting with the Night Sky: Samyukta Manikumar on Protecting Natural Darkness
Name: Samyukta Manikumar Location: Kenya Initiative Title: Noctura Short Description of Initiative: Excessive artificial light harms wildlife and ecosystems, especially nocturnal species, yet light is not broadly recognized as an environmental pollutant. Samyukta’s initiative explores how Indigenous knowledge and cultural heritage can support dark sky conservation and nocturnal habitat protection. Sectors: Astronomy, Tourism, Dark Sky Conservation Website: samyuktamanikumar.com Social Media: https://www.linkedin.com/company/nocturanightsky/, https://www.instagram.com/__noctura
Samyukta Manikumar advocates for dark sky conservation, working at the intersection of astrotourism, ecology, and cultural heritage. Blending ecological and Indigenous knowledge and astrotourism, Samyukta’s mission is to create new sustainable tourism models that protect natural darkness while empowering local communities.
Her expertise encompasses both theoretical and practical astronomy, complemented by a sensitivity to rural economic contexts and an evolving understanding of nocturnal ecosystems. She is passionate about reshaping our relationship with natural darkness, not just as a backdrop for stargazing but as an essential ecological and cultural resource.
In this conversation, Samyukta shares her vision for preserving the night sky, the surprising lessons she’s learned from Indigenous perspectives, and why changing how we see the night is key to protecting it.
Every innovator’s story starts with a spark. If you had to pick one defining moment that set you on this path, what would it be?
There hasn't been a single defining moment. My path has been shaped by a lifelong fascination with both the night sky and the natural world. My journey has been a gradual exploration and evolution of interests that continues to be fueled by many little sparks along the way: moments of awe under a starry sky, interacting with nocturnal creatures, and learning different cultural interpretations of the night sky.
What system are you working to transform, and why does it need to change?
I work to change how people perceive the night, both as a physical space and as a concept. This involves challenging deeply ingrained biases against darkness. I work to shift those perspectives by highlighting the ways that nature and wildlife depend on the night, and by elevating Indigenous and cultural perspectives of the night sky as valid and worthy of preserving. As we lose more natural darkness to light pollution, we are not only harming nocturnal ecosystems but also erasing cultural heritage and knowledge systems that have existed for millennia.
How does your initiative challenge dominant narratives or conventional models? What makes it truly “Unearthodox”?
All life on Earth has evolved in sync with natural rhythms of day and night. But because of light pollution (the excessive use of outdoor lights at night), we are losing access to natural night. This is devastating to ecosystems, since a large portion of life on Earth is nocturnal and needs darkness to survive. In Kenya, this includes species like lions, hyenas, owls, and insects that rely on night to feed, move, and reproduce, as well as the communities who live alongside them.
Cultures have also evolved with access to dark skies. These have shaped how people relate to the environment and make meaning from it. In many parts of Kenya, stories and practices linked to the stars are still passed down orally. But as more places urbanise and electrify, and the view of the night sky disappears, these connections to tradition and myth vanish with it.
My initiative explores how people’s experiences of the night sky can transform how we think about the night and encourage us to protect it. The current dominant way we relate to the sky is through science and astronomy, which abstracts the night into something that is ‘out there’ and separate from us. There is also a general perception of darkness as evil and light as good.
What I hope to do is help people experience nighttime as something more neutral, integrated, and closer to us in an ecological and cultural sense. I want to create experiences that are rooted in place, where people can encounter the night sky through a unique lens of Kenyan ecology and culture. Once people understand the importance and richness of nighttime, my hope is they will use light more responsibly, and the nocturnal environment will be better protected.
Photo Credit: Samyukta Manikumar
What role do traditions and storytelling play in preserving nocturnal ecosystems? How does this form of tourism impact local communities beyond simply sharing their stories with visitors?
Kenya is inhabited by a large number of tribes with rich and unique cultures. These cultures have used and interpreted the night sky in unique ways that tie to their ways of life. Some pastoralist tribes, for example, use the Full Moon to move their livestock between locations to avoid both cattle raiders and predation from wildlife. Other tribes use particular constellations for timekeeping, harvests, and rituals.
Most of the country is still very naturally dark, but as it electrifies, this connection to stars and natural light cycles is eroded. Most of this cultural information is passed down orally through stories. As conditions of natural nighttime disappear, this information vanishes with it since the stories lose context. When these narratives are preserved and shared in appropriate ways, they become a form of continuity. They can reinforce cultural pride, protect knowledge, and incentivise the protection of the source of that knowledge: natural darkness and the nocturnal environment.
Innovation often requires letting go. What beliefs, assumptions, or practices have you had to unlearn to create real change?
I had to let go of the belief that Western science is inherently ‘right’ or superior to cultural interpretations of the sky. While I deeply respect scientific knowledge, I have come to appreciate the wisdom and beauty in different cultural ways of interpreting the night. Rather than seeing one perspective as more valid than another, I’ve learned that both have their place, and that integrating these different ways of knowing can lead to richer, more holistic approaches to conservation. This shift has also been influenced by my early-stage research into oral sky knowledge from different Kenyan communities. I’m still exploring the best ways to engage with this work ethically and respectfully.
What inspired you the most about the potential of astrotourism as a conservation tool?
Looking up at the night sky and truly contemplating our place in the universe has the power to change how we see ourselves and our relationship to the world. These kinds of experiences can stay with us for a lifetime, influencing the way we interact with nature and inspiring a deeper sense of responsibility toward protecting it.
What’s the most unexpected lesson you’ve learned from Indigenous wisdom on the dark sky?
I don’t think I’ve fully learned that lesson yet. Indigenous wisdom is a different way of interacting with the environment that unfolds over time through direct experience. I expect that the most unexpected lesson is still ahead of me!
Photo Credit: Samyukta Manikumar
Beyond funding, what kinds of support—emotional, relational, or otherwise—are essential for innovators to thrive?
A sense of community and belonging, and encouragement to boldly try new things.
What motivated you to join the Exploration Co-Lab cohort?
I was drawn to the opportunity to think freely, cross disciplinary boundaries, and connect with like-minded people. The environment and facilitation of the Co-Lab feel very nurturing, and I’m also deeply inspired by the work and vision of the other cohort members.
Fast-forward 10 years—what do you hope your work has made possible?
I hope people will become more sensitive to the night and natural darkness, not just as a source of beauty and inspiration, but as a vital ecological condition for life on Earth. I want the night sky to be seen as something worth protecting, not only for astronomy, but for the species, landscapes, and knowledge systems that depend on it.
In Kenya and beyond, I hope natural darkness will be recognised as part of the environment, not separate from it, and that this recognition will shape how we light spaces, how we tell stories, and how we guide others through the night.
This insight is part of a series highlighting our first cohort of the Exploration Co-Lab. Read more about the Exploration Co-Lab here.
You can also read more insight pieces like this here.
The content of this piece represents the author’s own views and does not necessarily represent the views of Unearthodox or of any of its collaborating institutions.
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