Is infrastructure alive? — Three mindsets shifts for regenerative infrastructure design

One of my favourite books of 2025 was Robert MacFarlane’s Is a River Alive? and it has been at the forefront of my mind as I try to do the mental work of climbing out of my conventional thinking to imagine what regenerative infrastructure might mean.

Ultimately, it comes down to mindset.

Before we get into the design brief for regenerative infrastructure, it is important to think about the mindset we are bringing to the whole process. 

In the Systems Bookcase, mindsets sit above operational requirements and designs. They shape those requirements, from which everything else follows. The mindsets in turn follow from our goals. 

In regenerative design our goal is for humans and the living world to survive, thrive and co-evolve. 

The trouble with mindsets is they can be hard to see. They are often implicit in the operational requirements that we derive and the designs that follow.

For example, if we can have sustainable add-ons to a project that is inherently not sustainable — like a low-carbon airport terminal — it suggests that the overarching mindsets and goals are not aligned with creating thriving. 

But if we can ask questions that challenge our mindsets right at the start of the project, we can make those mindsets visible before anyone has even realised they are shaping the design.

The Pattern Book proposes three mindset shifts that support a transition to a regenerative economy: 

  • From separation to interdependence
  • From scarcity to abundance
  • From control to emergence

Each of these shifts can be turned into a provocative design question for infrastructure. These questions come before we establish the design brief. They help establish the big questions about what we should be designing and why.

Interdependence – the living world as infrastructure.

Instead of asking, how do we make this infrastructure more sustainable, we ask:
What if the living world were the primary infrastructure?

Rivers, oceans, wetlands, mycelium networks, woodland canopy and the air that surrounds us. These are the nodes and connections of our living planet’s circulatory system.

Instead of designing human infrastructure first and then off-setting its effects, we could start by understanding what ecological processes sustain a place. How do rivers, wetland and coastal systems need to evolve? How do habitats need to adapt. What is needed to enable circulation of water, materials and nutrients?

We then design human systems to be nested within these living systems, and not the other way round.

Abundance – thriving living systems creating wealth

Many industrial systems are occupied with extracting increasingly scarce resources. But living systems have the potential to create huge abundance.

When they function well, living systems create huge wealth:

  • Natural cooling from tree canopies
  • Rich and diverse plant and animal life on land
  • Diverse and plentiful life in the seas
  • A microbial environment that supports our own microbiome
  • Vast amounts of materials that can be harvested
  • Natural cleaning of air and water
  • And ultimately the a complex system of interacting processes that maintain a balanced climate on earth.

Our greatest preoccupation should be how do we enable these living process to function well so that we can live well.

The design question is then not how do we create infrastructure that maximises the extraction and transport of these resources, but rather how do we create infrastructure that supports living systems to create abundance?

Emergence – living infrastructure that evolves.

Conventional engineering assumes infrastructure to be fixed, but the infrastructure of the living world behaves differently – it is alive, it shifts, it adapts to changing environmental conditions.

Rivers shift course. Wetlands expand and contract. Forests shift their make up over a cycle of many decades. Migration routes divert when they need to.

These circulatory systems are a dynamic web that shift across and shape the landscape.

Rather than attempt to control and pin down these systems, the design question becomes how do we restore the capacity of these systems to organise themselves?

Because when these systems function well, we can live well.

Questions to unlock design

These questions are deliberately provocative. The don’t have easy answers we can point to.

That’s the point of design. If we knew the answer before we started, we wouldn’t be doing design — we’d be shopping.

Regenerative infrastructure is, ultimately, the wiring of an economy that creates thriving. If we go into infrastructure design with the assumptions of an extraction-based economy, we will reproduce that system.

But if we question our mindsets, we change assumptions and open the possibility of designing something fundamentally different.

So is infrastructure alive? 

Obviously the concrete, steal and mineral structures that we traditionally build are not. 

But if we step back and ask what broader systems actually enable us to live well, the answer is very different. 

Regenerative design begins by recognising that humans and the rest of the living world must survive, thrive and evolve together. Ours and nature’s systems are not separate — they are interdependent.

That is not how infrastructure is traditionally imagined.

But the first step in designing a viable alternative to is to imagine it. 

Seeing infrastructure as alive, and part of a much wider web of life, is an invitation to imagine things differently, so we can start designing differently.

The goal of regenerative design is largely irrelevant…

In a live project context, the goal of regenerative design is largely irrelevant. 

Not because it is not important, but because it is too big.

The goal of regenerative design is for humans and the living world to survive, thrive and co-evolve. This is too lofty for most projects. 

Most project daily project decisions are dealing with deliverables, budgets, deadlines and risks.

And yet, the future is built from daily decisions.

So instead, keep the goal in your back pocket, and use it every so often as a compass to ask, are we still roughly heading in the right direction.

If we get diverted along the way, we can course correct when we get the chance. But if we don’t know where we are heading, we don’t know if we are heading off track.

I’m so glad the humans have come

Just imagine, you are visiting the site of a new development. And you are suddenly aware that you are surrounded by voices. The voices include the insects, the animals, the trees, the plants, the fungi — all saying in chorus:

“I’m so glad the humans have come!”

Because when the humans come they make things better. 

By creating buildings for themselves they improve habitats for others. 

By harvesting materials they contribute to, rather than deplete local renewable resources. 

They take waste and turn it into valuable inputs. 

And their waste is a valuable asset for the rest of us. 

They are so sensitive to the fragile balance of the ecosystem. 

They listen.

They work with us to find the best next step.

Now that the humans are here, we can thrive even more. 

Just imagine.


Because that is our North Star in regenerative design — that every time we design and build something, the world gets better. So that if we weren’t there, the ecosystem would miss us.

Capitalism/woodalism

Some days I get to work in the big city; others I get to work in the woods – lucky me!

The feeling I get in approaching these two venues couldn’t be more different.

I approach the city excited by the conversations I will have, by the projects we can work on. I grew up in the city. It’s a place I love. But I also increasingly feel the scale of the place and the disconnection from what makes life like this possible.

I approach the wood excited by the calm and the sense of life surrounding me. By the lessons that I know the place can teach me. But I also know how far this place is from where big decisions are made, and far from where many people live.

For me regenerative design is about building a much stronger connection between these two worlds. From where we make and where we take so that both places can thrive.

The annoying things about hammocks — three design principles from the second law of thermodynamics

The annoying thing about hammocks is that they obey the second law of thermodynamics. However big an initial shove you give them, they always come to a standstill. The swing’s energy is dissipated through air resistance and friction in the ropes.

That’s irritating if, like me, you enjoy a nap in a gently rocking hammock. But it’s also instructive: the hammock is a perfect metaphor for the second law.

The law says that a system will naturally move to its lowest free energy state. You already know this from the hammock: it comes to rest when all the energy available to keep it moving has been used up. If there were energy left, it would still be swinging.

Since this law is the way the universe goes, it is helpful to try to design with it rather than against it. 

Three modes of design from the second law of thermodynamics

1 – Design for resting equilibrium — no energy cost

  • Design the system’s natural resting state so that it is also the useful one. 
  • For example, put the pond at the bottom of the hill so that it fills itself.

2 – Intercept the flows — medium energy cost

  • Catch free energy while it’s on the move. This takes some organisational effort but can be minimal. 
  • For example, run the water through a turbine on its way downhill to the pond. The water is heading that way anyway, so can we use it?

3 – Fight the flow — high energy cost

  • Push the system in the opposite direction of free energy dispersal. This takes work to create and maintain, creating fragility. 
  • For example, pumping the water uphill, and storing it there for later use. 

The further down this list we go, the more energy we need. 

Life as the free energy interceptor

In the living world, physical processes, powered by the sun, the motion of the planet and moon, and heat from the earth, put the work into raise the energy level of the systems that surround us: evaporating water to create rain, driving tides in and out of our shores, heating the air to drive winds and raining radiation on the Earth’s surface. 

Life intercepts this free energy on its way down hill; on its journey from concentrated to spread out. This is the principle upon which whole cascade of life depend, from the processes driven by ion imbalances across cell membranes, to the multitude of species supported on a wooded slope as the intercepted water slowly makes its way downhill.

Where is regenerative design in all of this?

The goal of regenerative design for is for humans and the living world to survive, thrive and co-evolve. The living world thrives by catching energy as flows downhill, cycling it through a multitude of interlocking systems and lifeforms. To co-evolve and thrive we need to get involved with this dance. Rather than burning energy to fight the flow, we should be looking for where we can lean into, and even strengthen this life-giving process of harnessing these energy gradients. 

Where to hang the hammock

All of that thus resolved,  the only remaining question is where to hang the hammock. 

I would say, halfway down the hill, where the sound of the waterfall would send me to sleep. And I could dream about creating an ingenious mechanism for rocking the hammock powered by the falling water. 

This post was inspired in part by a working diagram Chris Wise showed me how should be designing for equilibrium. I’ll share more when Chris publishes it. And also by lectures on thermodynamics from Peter Atkins, many lunar cycles ago.

Boltzmann laughter distribution

This week I’ve been playing around with a way to explain the Boltzmann distribution — a mathematical function that predicts how energy is likely to spread out in a volume of gas. 

Imagine you have an audience of 100 people. Imagine there is a fixed amount of laughter to go around. What’s the most likely way the laughter will be distributed in the audience. 

Now, already I can see this analogy breaking down. But let’s just go with it for a little longer. 

We could arrange things so that one person does all the laughing. As there’s 100 people in the room, there’s 100 different ways we could do this: one for each possible solo laugher. 

Now imagine  we have two people laughing each with half the total available laughter. There are now 4,950 ways to pick those two people — in other words 4,950 ways to pick two people from 100.

The more we spread the laughter around, the more ways there are of distributing that laughter. 

The equation is for an audience size of n, and the number of people laughing in the audience, the number of ways of arranging laughter is n!/(k!(n-k)!).

This number of combinations gets very large very quickly. For half the audience laughing, there are approximately 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 ways of doing this.

This idea — the some arrangements have more ways of being achieved than others — is what underlies the Boltzmann distribution. 

Introducing some more formal language:

A macrostate is the overall situation (eg half the room laughing)

A microstate is one specific way of achieving that macrostate (eg exactly which 50 out of the 100 are laughing). 

Now, energy in a system doesn’t decide which microstate to be in. It just jostles around between different microstates. Some energy here, some energy there. But since there are far far more ways of achieving the more distributed macro states than the ones where energy is concentrated, the system almost always ends up in a highly distributed macro state. 

The macrostate with the most microstates is overwhelmingly likely.

This is why energy spreads out in a room. It isn’t a plan, it is just the macrostate that is overwhelmingly more likely. Like billions and billions of times more likely. 

This concept underpins ideas like equilibrium, itself an important underpinning idea in regenerative design. The goal of regenerative design is for humans and the living world to survive, thrive and co-evolve — in other words, thriving in equilibrium.

Of course, any physicists listening to this would laugh me off stage. For one thing, laughter isn’t a fixed quantity. And for another, one person’s laughter can trigger more. And…one person laughing amongst 100 is in itself funny. 

Now if there were 100 physicists in the room…how many would be laughing?

Zero negative externalities

Bill Sharpe’s definition for a regenerative system is one that creates zero negative externalities. In other words, no harm done. The system makes things better. 

It is a sobering benchmark and a valuable tool to distinguish interventions which dance at the edges from those which tackle the heart of the issue.

Thriving

The Pattern Book uses ‘thriving’ as a shorthand for the goal of regenerative design. The full goal is more precise: for humans and the living world to survive, thrive and co-evolve. Each word has earned its place in this definition: humans, living world, survive, thrive, co-evolve. And when we are doing systems analysis, it is helpful to be precise. The Living Systems Blueprint helps us unpack this definition further into more measurable characteristics in a system.

But in everyday conversation, thriving is enough. It’s a feeling. It stirs a reaction. It’s a familiar word.

Sustainability seeks to meet our needs without compromising the needs of the future. It is a zero-sum game — you end up with no more or less at the end. But aiming for thriving says we want more life. Not just life as a noun but a phenomenon.

As Janine Benyus says, ‘life contains the conditions
for more life’
.
Life that gets more sophisticated over time.
Life that grows in richness.
Life that exists in balance.
Thriving conveys the feeling of life doing this.

So, when we need to get technical, we can talk about the goal of regenerative design and the Living Systems Blueprint.

But when we want a compelling destination,
we’ll just say: thriving.

This post is an extract from the Motif Library in the Pattern Book for Regenerative Design.

References

Tippett, K. (n.d.). Janine Benyus Biomimicry, an Operating Manual for Earthlings [Audio recording]. https://onbeing.org/programs/janine-benyus-biomimicry-an-operating-manual-for-earthlings/