But the question is what their words are allowed to change.
You know, I had other plans for this website. I have wanted to build it for years. Essays. Poetry. Research. The occasional goose or flower reference. I hadn’t expected to acquire a taste for political and governmental satire quite so quickly, but the supply has been more than generous as of late.
My lobster is too buttery. My steak is too juicy. My satire is too well sourced. The man keeps giving interviews and alas, I am but one woman with a WordPress account.
And at this point, I’m starting to get concerned about my editorial independence. He supplies the premise, the dialogue AND the punchline. I’m just here choosing fonts.
God Bless You, Fredrika Fellman, reporter at Nya Åland.
In her interview of 22 September with Micke Larsson, Hållbarhetsrådets huvudsekretare, she performs the patient work of asking a question and then, when necessary, asking it yet again.
She asks about criticism from people close to the sustainability work. He discusses the institutional dialogue between the government and parliament. She brings him back to the people. She asks about his leadership. He acknowledges that the criticism probably concerns it indirectly, and in parts.
Till vilka delar?
(English: In which parts?)
It is a good question. Fredrika appears to have brought several.
Larsson acknowledges that he has heard concerns. He accepts some responsibility and says people should be able to speak about their experiences. He does not dismiss every criticism or claim that every environment is perfect. These are useful starting points.
But Fredrika’s questions concern what comes after them.
Asked which parts he takes responsibility for, he explains his role in supporting the council through advice and historical experience. We have learnt something about the job description. The question remains available.
His responsibility has very clear boundaries and surprisingly little interior.
During our time as colleagues, I was frequently asked two questions:
what, exactly, does he do all day, and what is his educational background?
A rather awkward position for a colleague trying to establish herself in the Ålandic job market. I had a part-time role, my own work to account for and had not anticipated becoming an information service for somebody else’s position.
But the questions were revealing. “What does his role involve?” is a request for information. “What exactly does he do all day?” suggests that the visible activity has not adequately explained the work. Alongside it, the question about education asks what knowledge and expertise underpin the authority with which he speaks.
His visibility appeared to be doing more work than his explanations. People knew who represented the vision. They were less certain what, precisely, he was responsible for delivering. This is where Wille Valve’s questions about the work make especially good sense.
A sustainability project can need specialists, coordinators, advocates and spokespeople. Each makes a contribution. It should be possible to understand in which capacity someone is speaking, what informs their judgment and which decisions they can be held accountable for.
Otherwise, familiarity begins to stand in for an explanation. We know the face. We recognise the vocabulary. We remain less certain about the remit.
The questions were put to me. But the job was, and is, his.
Fredrika, sensibly, has gone directly to the source because that is her job. Her follow-up questions suggest that the explanatory difficulties have survived the journey.
Since the focus is on Larsson’s leadership, something he has said about himself deserves attention.
Last year, while writing my own summer radio programme, broadcast on 6 August 2025, I listened to a few others to get a sense of the format. Micke’s August 2015 radio programme was among them. We were colleagues at the time, so it seemed like a sensible choice.
And when I listened, I have to say, I choked a little on my fikabröd.
He describes himself as “en person med stort bekräftelsebehov”, that is, a person with a strong need for affirmation, and explains how successful performance supplied it. He describes banquets in Monaco, strawberries and champagne at Wimbledon, Beverly Hills and royal guests.
Then comes this:
Några av mina mindre angenäma egenskaper gjorde sig påminda då och då. Girighet, avundsjuka, missunnsamhet, oro och inte minst en ful ovana att forcera fram min vilja till varje pris. Såklart inga egenskaper jag är stolt över.
(In English: Some of my less agreeable qualities made themselves felt now and then. Greed, envy, begrudging others, anxiety and, not least, an ugly habit of forcing my will through at any price. Certainly no qualities I am proud of.)
From Wimbledon to the United Nations. An impressive journey. I remain interested in what happened to the need for applause.
Because a worthy cause can give an old appetite an excellent reference.
He goes on to describe ethical reflection, meditation and the practice of “fulländat tal”: speech that promotes understanding, harmony and unity.
Jag övar numera på att praktisera fulländat tal. I det ingår också tystnad och lyssnande. Det blir liksom omöjligt att säga någonting vettigt utan att jag först försöker sätta mig in i min samtalspartners sinnesstämning och tillvaro för stunden.
(In English: I now practise perfected speech. That also includes silence and listening. It becomes, in a sense, impossible to say anything sensible without first trying to understand the other person’s state of mind and circumstances at that moment.)
He describes noticing progress each year, his friendships deepening and his respect for all life strengthening through this practice.
This is an articulate account of personal development. The admission deserves to be taken seriously. Human beings should be able to acknowledge their failings and change. That possibility is essential to any worthwhile account of human development.
But the distinction between describing a transformation and demonstrating one remains relevant.
There is a considerable difference between overcoming the need for admiration and finding more admirable things to be admired for.
The cause became larger than himself. Curiously, he has always remained in the centre of the picture.
The test comes when somebody else’s knowledge, achievement or judgment requires practical recognition on its own terms. When listening entails yielding something. When another person’s agency interrupts the story you prefer to tell.
He has explained the importance of understanding another person’s circumstances. I would welcome the practical demonstration.
Can the shared purpose accommodate a challenge to the person speaking for it?
And Fredrika’s questions here provide an opportunity to find out.
Larsson’s 2015 summer talk asks his listeners:
How often do you reflect on what you say and the effects your words have?
That serious question, posed to Åland almost an exact decade before my own programme, belongs beside the questions Fredrika asks now.
Throughout the news interview, Larsson explains the environment he wants to create. Fredrika asks about the environment people describe experiencing.
The distance between those two things is a leadership question. It remains one even when the discussion is positive.
Harmony becomes difficult to assess without asking who has accommodated whom. People can arrive at agreement through understanding and changed judgment. They can also learn which disagreements cost too much to pursue.
The room may become quieter in either case.
A commitment to listening therefore requires genuine curiosity about what has disappeared from the conversation, whose concerns remain unresolved and whether anyone with authority has actually reconsidered anything.
Near the end of the interview, Fredrika asks whether it is appropriate for people to say they experience a culture of silence and difficulty bringing criticism forward. Larsson replies:
Ja, självklart. Det i sig är ju ett tecken på att den möjligheten finns.
(English: Yes, of course. Their doing so is itself a sign that the possibility exists.)
This is a noteworthy interpretation of a complaint.
In his telling, the people who struggled to be heard are evidence of how easy he makes it.
The complaint has been successfully converted into a compliment of Micke’s leadership.
We have yet to establish what it cost them.
A culture of silence can accommodate people who refuse to remain silent. What deserves examination is the experience surrounding that refusal: whether concerns receive answers, whether relationships remain workable, whether people retain the confidence that disagreement will be treated as a legitimate contribution.
Some speak after finding support elsewhere. Some wait until their position is less vulnerable. Some decide that continuing to withhold a concern has become more costly than the consequences of raising it. I recognise that calculation well.
Their words reaching a newspaper tells us that they reached a newspaper. It also gives the organisation something specific to investigate.
What follows disagreement? Does the person receive an answer? Can they continue contributing? Does their standing change? Does the concern reach anybody able and willing to act?
An invitation to speak can never answer those questions on its own.
Larsson suggests slowing down in meetings and giving people room to express themselves. This can help. Anyone who has tried to contribute while the chairperson was already moving to the next agenda item will recognise the value.
Some problems survive an unhurried meeting though.
If someone questions a decision, they need an explanation of that decision. If they identify a discrepancy, they need it addressed. When concerns involve the exercise of authority, more conversational space will achieve little unless the people exercising that authority become answerable within it.
A pleasant room can still contain unequal consequences.
I have to tell you that there is a particular exhaustion in being answered this way. You explain what happened. The person you are addressing explains what they believe in. The beliefs are admirable. You share several of them. That is partly why you are having the conversation.
So you try again, more precisely. Perhaps something was unclear. You supply the example, the sequence, and the distinction. The answer returns to an abstraction on the importance of dialogue.
At some point, you realise that you are being asked to recognise their intentions while your experience remains unrecognised.
By then, you are probably sounding frustrated. Their voice may still be perfectly calm.
One person can preserve their composure because the unresolved problem is costing someone else, sometimes dearly.
This is why agreeable language deserves the same attention as an openly dismissive answer. Courtesy can accompany a substantive response. It can also occupy the space where one should have been.
An institution that mistakes this difference in tone for a difference in reasonableness will repeatedly learn the wrong lesson.
And here we are.
Power includes the ability to set an agenda, interpret a contribution, introduce someone as credible, decide what warrants attention and determine when a discussion is finished. Much of it operates through relationships and professional standing. It can be exercised warmly, by someone who thinks of himself primarily as a facilitator.
It remains power.
It is possible to leave Wimbledon without leaving the VIP section.
A worthy cause can give ambition a larger purpose while preserving its appetite for recognition and control. The practical question is what the person representing that cause is prepared to share: credit, judgment, influence, the ability to determine what happens next.
Anyone who stands as a leader must recognise the influence they hold. Explaining that many people are involved does not establish that they are equally influential, equally secure or equally able to make a disagreement matter.
Getting one’s own way becomes easier to justify when one understands it as advancing the common good. Once the mission becomes difficult to distinguish from its representative, challenging the representative can be treated as obstructing the mission.
“We” is a generous word. It can accommodate a surprisingly large “I.”
This is what I believe we have to face on Åland. A sustainability agenda can be hollowed out from within, through reflexive defence and the exploitation of the people who care enough to keep contributing. Its defenders can become so invested in protecting its reputation that they stop examining whether its principles govern the work itself.
The mission should not require everyone else to protect its representative from its principles.
What makes this interview revealing is how consistently criticism is brought back within Larsson’s account of his own receptiveness. He welcomes discussion. He wants people to feel able to speak.
He indicates he has heard the signals. There is no indication that he intends to pull over.
His intentions have received a considerably fuller hearing than anyone else’s experience.
Even his listening is about him.
A leader puts the people he serves at the centre.
The very heart of social sustainability concerns whether people can live, participate and exercise agency within the arrangements we create together. It reaches into access, security, belonging, recognition and the distribution of influence. Its substance is found in what happens when people need those conditions to hold.
In a sustainability organisation, a person’s ability to question a decision cannot depend entirely on the goodwill of the person who made it. There must be intelligible responsibilities, credible ways to raise concerns and responses that address their substance.
These are practical conditions for trust.
A leader can disagree with a criticism and explain why. They can acknowledge part of it, identify uncertainty or change their mind. Each gives the other person something definite to engage with.
Vagueness distributes the work differently. The journalist asks again. The colleague explains again. The person affected supplies another example and calculates whether continuing is worth the effort.
Apparently, getting him to listen is your job too.
This is why the discrepancy between ethical self-description and accountable practice matters. A person’s understanding of themselves as inclusive cannot determine whether others have actually been included. Nor can their commitment to a worthy mission exempt their leadership from examination.
The mission needs that examination. It depends on access to knowledge its representatives may find inconvenient.
Repeatedly absorbing criticism into assurances about openness can deprive an organisation of that knowledge. People begin withholding contributions. Their quietness is mistaken for agreement. The institution’s confidence in itself survives while its ability to understand itself deteriorates. We are already seeing that on Åland.
For sustainability work, that is a grave loss. Willingness to contribute, trust in cooperation and confidence that disagreement can be useful are resources too. They can be exhausted.
Larsson’s summer programme offers a language for ethical development. Fredrika’s interview asks how that development translates into responsibility. I think the questions should get together for a drink.
There is considerable talk of making room for people. But Larsson reserves the right to explain what they meant.
The harder question is whether there is room for somebody else to be right about something those leading the work would rather not acknowledge.
A shared vision must be able to survive somebody else having a point.
Social sustainability has to reach that far into the room.
Everyone can speak.
But power must answer for what it does.
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