Perspectives · Biodiversity

From Texas to Tasmania: Floods Are the Signal. Regeneration Is the Response.

From Texas to Tasmania: Floods Are the Signal. Regeneration Is the Response.

I’m a Scoutmaster of a Boy Scout Troop in Michigan.

Every week, I work with young people who are learning what it means to lead, to care, to pay attention. We teach them how to build fires and shelter, how to navigate with a compass, how to serve others and show up with integrity. But more than any of those skills, what we’re really teaching is a mindset: Be Prepared. Be present. Be responsible for more than just yourself.

So when the news broke about the catastrophic floods in Texas this July—when rivers surged through campsites, when children were swept away—I felt a deep and personal grief. No, they weren’t “my” Scouts. I didn’t know their names or faces. But I know the experience they were there to have. I know what it means to send a young person into the woods and promise their parents they’ll come home stronger, wiser, and safe.

This time, they didn’t come home.

The floods hit Flash Flood Alley—an area notorious for intense, sudden rain events. Up to 20 inches of rain fell in just hours, overwhelming rivers and washing through entire campsites. In Kerr County alone, dozens of campers and counselors were swept away in the darkness. Some of their bodies were found miles downstream. Some are still missing.

This wasn’t a fluke. This wasn’t just weather. This was a systemic failure—of infrastructure, of preparedness, and of the belief that “rare” disasters still justify inaction.

And the heartbreak wasn’t limited to Texas.

Just weeks earlier, floods hit Australia. Different continent. Same chaos. Families were displaced. Communities overwhelmed. But this time, one of our own—Dr. Michael Young, Vice President of GPM Global—was there. He didn’t just monitor the news. He dove right in.

He reminded us what it looks like to lead—not just with strategy, but with heart.

Let’s be clear: these floods aren’t isolated events. They’re part of a pattern that’s been building for decades, and that pattern is only accelerating. More than 2 billion people worldwide live in flood-prone areas. And climate change is turning what used to be “100-year floods” into annual occurrences.

Here’s the hard truth: sustainability is no longer enough.

For too long, we’ve leaned on sustainability as the gold standard. Do no harm. Reduce emissions. Shrink our footprint. These are good things—but they’re not enough.

Because the systems we’re trying to sustain? They’re already broken.

We’ve built towns in floodplains, paved over wetlands, and treated nature like a variable in a spreadsheet instead of the foundation of life. We’ve prioritized short-term gains over long-term resilience. And when storms hit—and they will hit—we’re left reacting instead of preparing.

The idea of “sustainability” implies that we can keep the current system going with a few tweaks. But what we need now is not maintenance. It’s transformation. We need regeneration.

Regeneration goes beyond reducing harm. It asks: How do we restore what’s been degraded? How do we design systems that heal, that adapt, that learn?

Imagine if those Texas campsites had been built with integrated flood modeling. Imagine if local emergency systems had been equipped with layered, community-based alert systems—text, sirens, satellite backup, human relays. Imagine if upstream forests and wetlands had been preserved or restored to absorb rainfall before it surged downstream.

That’s not fantasy. That’s regeneration in practice.

It’s not just about nature—it’s about infrastructure, communication, leadership, and values. It’s about preparing for the future not just through mitigation, but through imagination.

And this isn’t theoretical. It’s deeply personal.

Click me to learn more about the training! 

As a Scoutmaster, I’ve spent nights listening to storms roll through our camps. I’ve done 3 a.m. headcounts. I’ve walked the perimeter in rain gear, flashlight in hand. It’s part of the job—to stay calm, to stay aware, to stay ready.

But readiness isn’t just about having dry socks and a charged radio. It’s about making sure the systems we rely on—from weather alerts to land use to emergency response—are designed for the world we actually live in now. Not the one we used to live in. Not the one we wish we lived in.

That’s what regeneration is about.

It’s why at GPM, we advocate for regenerative sustainability—not as a buzzword, but as a paradigm shift. It means designing projects that heal ecosystems, not just avoid damaging them. It means considering future generations as stakeholders—not in theory, but in measurable impact. It means redefining project success from “on time and under budget” to “resilient, equitable, and life-supporting.”

And it means leadership that looks like what Michael did in Australia: stepping in, showing up, and doing the quiet, necessary work of repair.

So what now?

If you work in project management, planning, policy, engineering, education—you have power. Real power. To shape systems. To fund resilience. To redesign the very environments people live and work and learn in.

And if you’re a Scoutmaster, coach, teacher, or parent—you have power too. To raise a generation that doesn’t just learn to adapt to crisis, but knows how to anticipate it, transform it, and lead through it.

This moment demands more than sustainability reports and carbon pledges.

It demands courage. Creativity. And a deep, abiding responsibility to those who trust us with their futures.

We can’t bring those campers back. But we can make sure we never again accept “freak disaster” as an excuse for what we could have prevented.

Regeneration isn’t optional anymore.

It’s the only responsible way forward.

Let’s honor those we’ve lost—not with thoughts and prayers alone, but with bold action, visionary leadership, and systems worthy of the lives they’re meant to protect.