We are living through an age of profound uncertainty. Across the world, trust in institutions is declining, communities are fragmenting, environmental pressures are intensifying, and many people feel increasingly disconnected from meaningful work and a sense of purpose. In a recent address, United Nations Secretary-General António Guterres warned of growing instability, geopolitical division, environmental pressures, rising inequality and weakening international cooperation.
Yet while much attention is devoted to diagnosing our crises, far less attention is devoted to a more important question: What kind of civilisation are we actually trying to build? Public debate often revolves around what we oppose: corruption, inequality, environmental destruction, political dysfunction, economic stagnation, social division. But a healthy society cannot be built on opposition alone.
Prosperity beyond growth
We must also ask: what does success look like? For decades, economic success has largely been measured through growth, productivity and GDP. These metrics matter because they tell us important things about economic performance. But they cannot tell us everything. A nation can become richer statistically while becoming weaker socially.
GDP cannot tell us whether communities are stronger. It cannot tell us whether workers feel valued. It cannot tell us whether skills are being passed to future generations, whether trust is growing, whether families are flourishing, or whether the natural environment upon which all prosperity ultimately depends is recovering or deteriorating. Increasingly, I have come to believe that we need a broader vision of progress. I call this vision regenerative civilisation: one that is economically productive, socially cohesive, environmentally responsible, culturally rooted and morally serious. It creates prosperity without destroying the foundations upon which future prosperity depends. It recognises that economic systems exist to serve human flourishing, not the other way around.
For some time, I have been searching for examples of what such a model might look like in practice. Recently, I found one in an unexpected place: not in a government department, university seminar room, think tank or international conference, but in a 240-year-old knitwear mill in Derbyshire producing high-quality British-made garments. Founded in 1784, John Smedley has survived industrial revolutions, economic depressions, globalisation, technological transformation, two world wars, changing consumer habits and the rise of fast fashion. It has adapted continuously while remaining rooted in a set of enduring principles.
The value of human experience
What struck me most during my visit was not the machinery, impressive though it was. Nor was it the global success of a British manufacturer exporting to more than thirty countries. It was the people. Many employees have worked there for decades. Some families have contributed across multiple generations. Younger workers were learning from older colleagues. Skills were not treated as costs to be minimised but as assets to be preserved, cultivated, and passed on.
In an era where age discrimination has become commonplace and experience is often undervalued, it was remarkable to witness different generations working side by side with a shared sense of purpose and belonging. The company cared about its people, and in turn its people cared about the company. That may sound deceptively simple, yet it is increasingly rare. Throughout the factory I observed something modern societies frequently struggle to create: trust between workers, and between management and staff, built not over months or years, but over generations.
Craft in an age of automation
I also witnessed a relationship between technology and labour that deserves far greater attention. The factory contains highly sophisticated machinery capable of producing garments with extraordinary precision. Yet technology was not being used to replace human beings. It was being used to support them. Human judgement, craftsmanship and skill remained central throughout the process.
Every garment still passes through numerous stages requiring care, attention and expertise. It takes between three and six weeks to complete and passes through dozens of pairs of human hands. This struck me as an important lesson for the age of artificial intelligence and automation. The question is not whether technology advances, it will. The real question is whether technology serves human flourishing or whether human beings become subordinate to technological systems.
At John Smedley, I witnessed an example of technology enhancing human capability rather than diminishing it. The environmental dimension was equally revealing. Natural fibres, responsible water management, sustainable production methods and long-term environmental stewardship were embedded throughout the organisation. Yet sustainability did not feel like a marketing exercise. It felt intuitive. It was simply part of the culture.
The same applied to quality. Throughout the factory, I repeatedly encountered a simple message: “Think quality. Do it right, first time, every time.” This was not merely a production standard. It reflected a philosophy of stewardship and a belief that things worth making are worth making properly. A belief increasingly absent from an economy built around disposability, planned obsolescence and perpetual consumption.
Rethinking economic success
For decades, we have been encouraged to believe that prosperity means more consumption, more speed, more convenience and more growth. Yet many societies have become wealthier while also becoming lonelier; more connected, yet more fragmented; more productive, yet less fulfilled. Perhaps we have become so focused on measuring economic output that we have neglected the deeper conditions that allow societies to flourish.
The lesson I took from John Smedley was not that every town needs a knitwear factory. Rather, it was that every society needs organisations and businesses capable of regenerating the foundations upon which long-term prosperity depends: cultivating skills rather than discarding them, strengthening communities rather than hollowing them out, balancing innovation with continuity, and recognising that environmental stewardship and economic success are not enemies but partners.
Most contemporary debates present us with a false choice. Either we maximise growth while accepting social fragmentation, environmental degradation and disposable communities, or we reject enterprise, profit and economic ambition altogether.
Another way is possible
A regenerative civilisation offers a third path. It asks better questions: How do we create prosperity while renewing the systems that sustain it? How do we generate economic value while rebuilding communities? How do we embrace innovation without sacrificing human dignity? How do we stay globally competitive while remaining locally rooted? And how do we build prosperity that lasts?
As I left John Smedley and walked back to my car, I realised that regenerative civilisation is not a theory waiting to be invented. It already exists in fragments around us. The challenge is whether we choose to recognise them, learn from them and build on them. In a Derbyshire mill that has quietly endured for 240 years, I found proof that another way is not only possible, but already being lived.
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