Perspectives · PMO
There’s a crisis unfolding in slow motion but we are all feeling it in real time. The planet is heating. Biodiversity is vanishing. Resource chains are breaking. And despite all this, the projects that shape our future are still being managed like it’s 1995.
Now here’s the wild part: the one structure that could change everything—the Project Management Office (PMO)—is barely in the conversation.
It’s time to change that.
Because if we’re serious about solving the climate crisis, the PMO can no longer be a passive administrator. It must become a strategic enabler of sustainability. And if you think that sounds radical, think again—it’s exactly what the PMO Global Alliance (PMOGA) Practice Guide already encourages.
Most organizations today have sustainability goals. Some even have roadmaps. But very few have embedded those ambitions into the fabric of how work gets done. And make no mistake—projects are how strategy becomes reality.
The PMO governs how projects are selected, prioritized, resourced, and delivered. That means every climate risk, biodiversity opportunity, and regenerative commitment either gains traction—or gets blocked—right there.
Yet despite this centrality, PMOs are still largely framed as compliance functions. Risk-averse, budget-driven, method-enforcing entities.
Let me be clear: a PMO that isn’t aligned with sustainability objectives is a liability. It’s not neutral—it’s enabling outdated practices by default.
And this must change—not later, but now.
The PMOGA Practice Guide offers a refreshingly modern and dynamic view of the PMO—not as a static structure, but as a value-enabling ecosystem. It proposes a vision of the PMO as a driver of transformation, strategic alignment, and stakeholder engagement.
This framing is essential because climate action is not a project—it’s a transformation mandate.
The guide emphasizes that PMOs must evolve toward:
Outcome orientation
Adaptive governance
Stakeholder-centered value delivery
Systems thinking
All of these are fundamental to embedding sustainability. In fact, if your organization says it cares about climate resilience, equity, or regeneration—your PMO is where those values get operationalized.
Let’s connect the dots. A well-positioned PMO already:
Shapes the project portfolio
Defines project intake criteria
Sets standards, governance, and reporting
Facilitates cross-functional collaboration
Oversees risk, quality, and delivery metrics
This toolkit is exactly what’s needed to embed sustainability at scale—not as a side effort, but as a primary filter.
A PMO that is sustainability-aligned would:
Prioritize low-carbon, high-impact projects in the portfolio
Require environmental and social impact assessments at project intake
Mandate responsible procurement and resource use
Embed biodiversity, circularity, and equity metrics into project KPIs
Train project leaders on regenerative thinking, not just delivery methods
These are not future-state concepts. These are immediate imperatives.
The PMOGA Guide stresses a key principle: “value is contextual and dynamic.” What that means is that the PMO must be able to evolve its definition of value based on external conditions and strategic priorities.
Well, we are in a planetary polycrisis. Climate shocks, ecological collapse, and geopolitical disruptions are redefining value at every level—from financial markets to stakeholder expectations.
If your PMO’s value model hasn’t evolved to reflect these pressures, then it’s not aligned with reality.
This is where regenerative thinking meets modern PMO practice. We’re no longer just optimizing project outputs—we’re asking: What is the long-term impact of our project portfolio on the systems we depend on?
And increasingly, investors, regulators, and communities are asking the same.
With new regulations like the EU Corporate Sustainability Reporting Directive (CSRD) and the Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive (CSDDD) coming into force, companies must now disclose not only their operational impacts but also the sustainability performance of their entire project and supply chain ecosystems.
This is a game-changer.
And it’s exactly where the PMO must step up:
Ensuring due diligence is applied at the project level
Aligning reporting standards with global frameworks (e.g. CSRD, GRI, Kunming-Montreal Biodiversity Targets)
Supporting double materiality analysis through integrated project data
Acting as a nexus between sustainability reporting and actual delivery
Think of the PMO as the compliance-to-action translator—transforming obligations into behaviors and outcomes.
Too often, sustainability is seen as a constraint. Something that slows projects down or adds cost.
But that’s a false dichotomy.
When done right, sustainability is a performance multiplier. Projects that consider life-cycle impacts, ecosystem dependencies, and social outcomes de-risk themselves over time. They gain community trust, avoid reputational harm, attract values-aligned capital, and deliver lasting relevance.
The PMO is the guardian of performance. That means sustainability is squarely within its remit.
It’s time to move beyond time–cost–scope as the only success metrics.
Let’s reframe: the PMO is not a structure—it’s an operating philosophy.
A regenerative PMO:
Designs for net-positive outcomes (not just minimizing harm)
Measures system impact, not just project-level outputs
Champions adaptive governance to respond to complexity
Acts as a bridge between sustainability, strategy, and delivery
This isn’t theory—it’s already happening in forward-thinking organizations adopting the GPM P5 Standard, and PRiSM methodology.
They’re proving that sustainability can be embedded without sacrificing efficiency—if the PMO is designed to support it.
Let’s be clear about what’s at stake.
A PMO that ignores sustainability risks:
Delivering projects that undermine environmental and social objectives
Missing compliance thresholds
Allowing shallow performance criteria to block transformational change
Becoming irrelevant in a world that demands purpose-aligned governance
In short, business-as-usual is a strategic liability.
We stand at a crossroads. The next ten years will determine whether we bend the curve on emissions, reverse biodiversity loss, and reimagine the systems we rely on.
Projects will be the vehicles of that transformation. And the PMO will determine whether those vehicles move us forward—or leave us stuck in neutral.
This is not just a technical challenge. It’s a moral and strategic opportunity.
PMOs that embrace this role will become strategic powerhouses, enabling organizations to not just survive—but thrive in a world that demands regeneration, not just resilience.
The sleeping giant is stirring. Around the world, we’re seeing PMOs awaken to a deeper purpose—one that transcends process and embraces stewardship.
This is not a soft shift. It’s a strategic one.
And it starts with a simple question:
What kind of future is your PMO delivering?
If the answer isn’t regenerative, then it’s time to start again—this time, with courage.
Perspectives · Leadership
The PMI GPM joint venture will be launching a Sustainability Champions Program. It’s going to be exciting—yes, I am teasing something that is brewing and no, I can't say more than this: we will be looking for advocates who want to drive change in a big way. So... stay tuned for that.
In the meantime, I wanted to reflect on what it truly means to champion sustainability—because it’s more than a role or a title. It’s a way of showing up in the world. And as the pace of environmental and social disruption accelerates, our collective need for courageous, values-driven leadership has never been more urgent.
To be a sustainability champion is to carry the question: How can this project, this decision, this organization contribute to regeneration, not just reduction? It’s to believe that better is possible—and to work for it even when it’s inconvenient, unpopular, or unclear.
It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence.
To be a sustainability champion is to walk into rooms where business-as-usual still reigns and ask: What if we did this differently? It’s to believe that innovation and responsibility are not at odds, but inseparable. It’s to understand that “less harm” is not the same as “more healing.” And it’s to lead with the belief that every project, every process, every partnership is an opportunity to restore, not just reduce.
Sustainability champions don’t just talk about change. They embody it. They’re the ones who are just as fluent in GHG emissions as they are in human rights. Who know that climate justice and social equity are intertwined. Who recognize that inclusion isn’t just about who’s at the table, but who helped set it in the first place.
They also understand that this work is personal. Sustainability starts with self-awareness. If your nervous system is burned out, your calendar over-packed, and your values buried under deliverables, it’s nearly impossible to do transformative work. Regenerative leadership means cultivating your own inner ecology—because the system you are is the system you shape.
This isn’t just idealism. It’s strategic. According to research from GPM and other global frameworks, over 30% of global GDP flows through projects. That means the project economy holds a powerful lever for change. Every project can be a platform for biodiversity restoration, emissions reduction, inclusive hiring, ethical procurement, and community empowerment. But only if we design them that way. And only if someone champions that design.
So, what does this look like in practice? Here are some questions to ask—not once, but regularly—as a way to calibrate your leadership to the kind of future we all say we want:
Are we designing our projects to leave ecosystems, people, and cultures better off?
Are our metrics capturing what matters—or just what’s convenient to count?
Who benefits from this initiative? Who bears the risk? Who has no voice?
What legacy will this project leave in ten years? In one hundred?
How do I model the kind of leadership I wish was more common?
Am I using my influence to protect the status quo—or to invite the next evolution?
Is this “green” initiative rooted in real accountability, or is it a PR strategy in disguise?
What are the systems of power and privilege that shape how we define “success” here?
These are not easy questions. But sustainability champions aren’t looking for easy—they’re looking for real. They know that the discomfort of honest inquiry is far less dangerous than the comfort of silent complicity.
As we prepare to launch the Sustainability Champions Program, we’re not just rolling out another initiative. We’re inviting a movement. A distributed network of bold professionals who are ready to be bridge-builders, question-askers, culture-shapers. People who know that sustainability isn’t a silo—it’s a story we write together.
You don’t need to have “Sustainability” in your job title to be part of this. You don’t need to be perfect, or even loud. You just need to be willing. Willing to align your values with your work. Willing to listen more deeply. To slow down when speed feels safer. To bring complexity into conversations that crave simplicity. To make decisions that prioritize the long arc over the quick win.
This is the leadership our world needs—not performative, but principled. Not reactive, but regenerative. Not top-down, but deeply relational.
Stay tuned. The program is coming. But the work? It’s already begun. And the invitation is open.
Are you ready to answer it?
Perspectives · Biodiversity
It might sound strange coming from someone named Carboni, but let’s be clear: carbon isn’t the enemy. Not really.
Carbon is essential. It’s the backbone of life. It powers photosynthesis, fuels ecosystems, and helps regulate the climate—when it’s in balance. The crisis we face today isn’t about carbon itself, but about the collapse of the living systems that once kept it in check.
So why do we keep treating carbon as the root cause, rather than the alarm bell?
For over two decades, climate policy has centered on carbon math. Emissions targets. Offsets. Net-zero pledges. Important tools, yes—but dangerously incomplete. By reducing a planetary crisis to a parts-per-million problem, we’ve missed the forest for the trees. Literally.
Climate change isn’t the core problem. It’s a symptom. A feedback. The deeper issue is systemic ecological breakdown.
Let’s widen the lens.
Nature isn’t a passive carbon sink. It’s a living infrastructure system. Forests regulate water cycles. Wetlands buffer storms. Coral reefs support fisheries and coastlines. These aren’t luxuries—they’re climate stabilizers.
We’re losing species at up to 100 times the historical rate. That’s not just a tragedy—it’s a destabilizer. No carbon offset can reverse a collapsed biome.
Healthy soil stores more carbon than all plant life and the atmosphere combined. But industrial agriculture—tilling, synthetic inputs, monocultures—has killed vast swaths of it. Dead soil releases carbon. It also fails to retain water, support crops, or nourish life.
We’ve weaponized our food systems against the very ground we depend on.
While we fixate on CO₂, we ignore other major destabilizers. Nitrous oxide, mainly from fertilizer, is 300 times more potent than carbon dioxide. PFAS, heavy metals, and synthetic chemicals degrade resilience across ecosystems and species.
Our chemical footprint is global. And growing!
Deforestation, urban sprawl, and extractive farming don’t just emit carbon. They dismantle nature’s operating system. Land use change is the leading driver of biodiversity loss—and one of the biggest contributors to emissions.
You can’t reach net-zero while bulldozing the biosphere.
Yes, CO₂ levels are rising. But not in isolation. It’s happening because we’ve overdrawn nature’s capacity to regulate itself. The crisis isn’t too much carbon. It’s that Earth can no longer manage it.
We’ve broken the system. And we’re still trying to manage symptoms.
This isn’t an argument against decarbonization. We must decarbonize—and fast. But if we stop there, we’ve only stabilized a system in freefall. We need to restore the living systems that make regulation possible in the first place.
That means:
Reviving ecosystems—not just planting trees
Healing soil—not just reducing fertilizer
Designing circular economies—not just greening supply chains
Valuing Indigenous and local knowledge—not just consulting firms
This is not about rejecting carbon metrics. It’s about transcending them. Because if we regenerate Earth’s capacity to support life, the carbon cycle will stabilize as a consequence—not a target.
We are not facing a carbon crisis. We are facing a crisis of living systems.
And the only viable path forward isn’t neutrality—it’s vitality.
Not just mitigation—but regeneration.
Let’s stop managing the crisis. And start healing the system.
Perspectives · Leadership
Perspectives · Equity
Every organization I’ve worked with has had at least one of these terms floating around in their internal documents or team conversations: "resources," "non-negotiables," "diversity pipeline," "resilience," or "change management."
On the surface, they sound strategic—even empowering. But listen a little closer, and they start to reveal something deeper: the way we talk about people often reduces them to assets, outputs, or obligations. It’s subtle, and that’s what makes it powerful—and dangerous. I first noticed it while reviewing a project status update for a global client. The HR director wrote, “We’re shifting resources from the innovation team to the DEI function.” She was, of course, talking about people—humans with names, ideas, families, and fatigue. But in the space of a sentence, they’d become “resources”—units to be reallocated like office furniture. This isn’t a critique of her intentions. It’s a critique of the language we’ve normalized.
Perspectives · Sustainability
Walk into any major corporate headquarters and you’ll find the signs: a sustainability strategy pinned to the wall, an ESG dashboard scrolling on a screen, or a Chief Sustainability Officer with a direct line to the C-suite. It seems like progress.
But there’s a problem. A fundamental, structural flaw that undermines all of it.
We’ve treated sustainability like a department—when it should be a discipline.
And as long as we keep doing that, we will continue to get the optics of transformation without the substance. Nice reports. Good intentions. Minimal impact.
In most organizations, the sustainability team is a well-meaning group operating on the margins. They produce annual ESG reports, manage compliance, maybe run a few initiatives around energy efficiency or supply chain transparency. But they’re often fighting an uphill battle against legacy systems, short-term incentives, and institutional inertia.
I’ve heard it more times than I can count:
“That’s the sustainability team’s job.”
“We’ll bring them in at the end to do the review.”
“They can offset that.”
It’s the illusion of delegation—and it’s incredibly dangerous.
Because what that mindset signals, consciously or not, is that sustainability is someone else’s responsibility. The engineers are focused on functionality. Finance is focused on ROI. Operations wants speed. Legal wants compliance. The sustainability team? They’ll clean up after everyone else.
This approach not only sets the team up to fail—it undermines the very possibility of sustainability being achieved.
Let’s take a step back and look at what we mean by “discipline.”
A discipline is a field of knowledge and practice that informs decisions across contexts. Think about finance. Or risk management. Or ethics. These aren’t confined to a single office. They live in the bloodstream of the organization. They shape how choices are made in procurement, design, marketing, hiring, and beyond.
Sustainability must be treated with the same gravitas.
If it’s going to work, it must influence decisions at every level. Not just as a KPI at the end of a project—but as a lens applied at the very beginning.
Here’s what it looks like when sustainability is a discipline:
Procurement officers ask, “What’s the lifecycle impact of this supplier?”
Engineers design not only for performance, but for end-of-life circularity.
HR managers measure employee well-being as a key business outcome.
Project managers use frameworks like GPM’s P5 Standard to assess people, planet, and prosperity impact as part of planning—not as an afterthought.
It’s not extra work. It’s different thinking.
I have enormous respect for the professionals working in sustainability roles. They are often the conscience of the organization—the ones asking the hard questions, pushing back on business-as-usual, reminding leadership what’s at stake.
But the truth is: they can’t do it alone.
You cannot offset a toxic culture.
You cannot “green” a product that was designed to be wasteful.
You cannot backsolve for justice in a system that was built without it.
Sustainability must be a design principle—not a retrofit.
When we fail to embed sustainability as a discipline, we create blind spots. Sometimes, catastrophic ones.
Case in point: A company invests in renewable energy credits to power their headquarters, but sources raw materials from suppliers using forced labor.
Or this: A project team meets carbon targets through offsets while paving over a wetland critical for biodiversity and climate resilience.
Or this: A tech firm touts its zero-waste facility while burning out its workforce with unsustainable deadlines and toxic culture.
These are not edge cases. They are symptoms of a system that has embraced the performance of sustainability over its practice.
And as pressure mounts—from regulators, investors, employees, and the planet itself—this gap is becoming not just visible, but untenable.
We are entering a new era—one that demands not just compliance or transparency, but transformation.
The EU’s CSRD and CSDDD directives are redefining what it means to be accountable, extending responsibility across global value chains.
Biodiversity frameworks like the Kunming-Montreal agreement are placing ecological systems at the center of strategy.
And emerging tools—like GPM’s P5 and PRiSM methodologies—are making it possible to evaluate impacts across people, planet, and prosperity in every phase of a project.
But here’s the catch: no framework works if the culture doesn’t shift.
This is why I say: sustainability isn’t a software update. It’s a new operating system.
And changing operating systems takes courage. It requires leaders who are willing to disrupt legacy assumptions. To say, “We’re not going to wait until the end of the process to ask about impact. We’re going to start with it.”
If you’re a leader, here’s where to begin:
Audit Your Assumptions: Where does sustainability live in your org chart? Who holds the power to act—and who doesn’t?
Embed Accountability: Don’t just measure outputs. Measure alignment. Are your decisions consistent with your stated values?
Resource the Work: Treat sustainability as a core business function, not a cost center. If it’s everyone's job, it must be everyone's budget line.
Train for Fluency: Give your people the tools, language, and time to integrate sustainability into their discipline—whether it’s HR, product, or operations.
And most importantly…
Model It Yourself: Culture flows from behavior. If executives treat sustainability like a box to check, so will everyone else.
We are at a crossroads.
One path leads us to deeper integration, more courageous leadership, and systems that can thrive in the long term. The other leads us to more performative dashboards, more greenwashing scandals, and ultimately, more broken promises.
The choice isn’t just organizational—it’s ethical.
Will we treat sustainability as a checkbox—or a compass?
As a department—or a discipline?
The answer will define the legacy of your leadership—and the future of our shared planet.
Perspectives · Biodiversity
Everyone—and I mean everyone—loves to talk about the SDGs. You’ll find them on coffee mugs, corporate websites, and LinkedIn banners. They’ve become the go-to badge for “we’re doing our part.” And that’s not a bad thing. They’ve done wonders for global sustainability awareness.
But here’s what’s getting swept under the rug: while the SDGs are soaking up the spotlight, another set of critical global goals—the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework—are being ignored. And that’s a huge mistake.
These 23 biodiversity targets for 2030 are every bit as essential as the SDGs. In fact, they may be even more urgent. Because without biodiversity, the rest doesn’t work.
No pollinators? Forget food security.
No wetlands? Kiss climate resilience goodbye.
No forests? That carbon neutrality plan? Dead on arrival.
So, why the silence?
Let’s face it—the SDGs won the branding game. They’ve got colorful icons, universal appeal, and something for everyone. The Kunming-Montreal targets? They’re technical, ambitious, and grounded in ecological science. Not exactly Instagram material.
But that doesn’t make them any less vital.
Here’s the truth: you can’t achieve the SDGs without biodiversity. Full stop.
Goal 3 (health), Goal 6 (clean water), Goal 13 (climate), and honestly, most of the other 14? They depend on healthy ecosystems.
Yet biodiversity continues to be an afterthought in corporate ESG strategies, government funding, and project planning. That has to change—and fast.
The Kunming-Montreal Framework, adopted in 2022, outlines 23 specific, science-based targets to halt and reverse nature loss by 2030. These include:
Protecting 30% of land and seas (Target 3)
Restoring 30% of degraded ecosystems (Target 2)
Halving plastic, pesticide, and nutrient pollution (Target 7)
Ensuring sustainable use of wild species (Target 5)
Strengthening Indigenous land rights (Target 22)
This isn’t a wish list—it’s a survival strategy.
And yet, as of now, none of the 23 targets are fully on track. Less than 20% show early signs of progress. Several—like halting species extinction or managing invasive species—are moving in the wrong direction. Just like the Aichi Targets for 2020, which we collectively missed, Kunming is at risk of becoming another missed opportunity.
We can’t let that happen. Not this time.
Here’s the part that gets overlooked: projects are how we deliver change. More than 57% of global GDP flows through projects. That’s infrastructure, energy, education, agriculture—you name it.
That means every project is either contributing to these biodiversity goals or undermining them.
We’ve worked with organizations across industries—from the textile sector in Eastern Europe, to property management in North America, to the energy and finance sectors. And we’ve seen this pattern repeat: companies that align their project portfolios with sustainability and biodiversity frameworks don’t just do the right thing—they build trust, resilience, and long-term value.
The tools are already there. The GPM P5 Standard, the PRiSM methodology, and our GPM360° assessment all integrate biodiversity considerations directly into project planning and performance.
So the real question isn’t “how do we do this?”
It’s: “Why aren’t we?”
There’s a myth that still lingers like smoke after a fire: that sustainability, and especially biodiversity, is a financial burden. It’s not. Biodiversity is an investment that delivers real returns.
Cleaner air. Healthier soil. Natural disaster buffers. Resilient food systems. These aren’t fringe benefits—they’re business continuity essentials.
Yet biodiversity is often left out of risk assessments, ESG disclosures, and project charters. We’re still treating it like a side dish when it’s actually the main course.
Let’s be clear: a sustainability strategy without biodiversity is an incomplete strategy.
We don’t need another report. We need action. Starting now:
Integrate biodiversity into the project lifecycle
From the business case to benefits realization. Biodiversity must be considered in scoping, impact assessments, and success criteria (if you use the P5 Standard, it is already there).
Treat Kunming-Montreal like the SDGs
Align KPIs, procurement practices, and reporting with the 23 targets. This isn’t separate from ESG—it is ESG.
Equip project sponsors and professionals
They are the enablers of transformation. Train them. Empower them. Make biodiversity literacy part of professional development.
Use the tools we already have
PRiSM, P5, °—they’re designed for this. Don’t reinvent the wheel—drive the change with it.
Start measuring what matters
Track impact on ecosystems, not just emissions. Because net-zero means little if biodiversity hits zero.
Look, I’m not here to point fingers. I’m here to wave a flag.
We missed the Aichi Targets. We celebrated the SDGs but forgot that nature doesn’t care about slogans—it responds to action.
And right now? None of the 23 Kunming-Montreal targets are fully on track. That’s not an oversight—it’s a red alert. So let’s stop pretending biodiversity is someone else’s job. If you're managing projects, designing strategy, allocating budgets—you’re part of the solution. The Kunming-Montreal Framework isn’t a sideshow. It’s the main event. And it needs to be in the boardroom, the classroom, the contract, and the kickoff meeting.
Because without biodiversity, there is no sustainable development.
And if we get this right? We don’t just save ecosystems.
We save ourselves.
Perspectives · Projects
Perspectives · Portfolio Management
Perspectives · Project Management
Back in the late 1900's (as my kids like to poke fun and say) when I started as a project manager, I was taught that the gold standard was neutrality. "Be objective," they said. "Stay out of politics. Focus on deliverables." The idea was simple: if you stayed neutral, you stayed safe. Safe for the project, safe for the client, safe for yourself.
It was a comforting story. But it was — and is — a story. A myth. And the more I look around at the world today, the more convinced I am that it’s a myth we can no longer afford to tell ourselves. The truth is, project managers are never truly neutral. We are always making choices — about who gets heard, whose concerns are "out of scope," whose risks are acceptable collateral damage. Every communication plan we write, every stakeholder map we draw, every "value" we prioritize is a reflection of values, assumptions, and power dynamics. Neutrality is not a shield. It is an accelerant for the status quo. And when the status quo is extraction, exclusion, and inequity — staying "neutral" means siding with harm. It means making ourselves instruments of systems we claim to want to change. If we want to call ourselves leaders, change-makers, or even professionals in the 21st century, we must move beyond the myth of neutrality. We must step into ethical leadership. Because here’s the reality: every project impacts lives, ecosystems, and futures. Every project leaves a legacy. The only question is whether we will have the courage to shape that legacy with intention — or hide behind the thin veneer of "objectivity" and hope no one notices the wreckage we leave behind.