What a difference a week makes in Australian Federal politics.

Just five days before the international climate conference in Copenhagen, two leadership spills for the Opposition in as many weeks have produced a new leader who, unlike the old one, doesn't believe in anthropogenic climate change, doesn't support the emissions trading scheme (ETS) aimed at combating it and, on a totally unrelated conservative note, is also anti-abortion.

The surprising vote for Tony Abbott as the new leader of the Liberal party yesterday dashed all hopes that Australia would act on climate change by passing legislation on an ETS before Copenhagen.

The Senate is expected to (finally) vote on the proposed ETS this morning - a scheme which seems to have been completely forgotten amidst all the commotion, in more ways than one.


So I thought it might be timely to post an article I wrote recently for agricultural magazine 'Agribusiness Australia' as a reminder of what is really at stake.




'Meat & Emissions' asks one of the country's most carbon-intensive industries how it plans to reduce its own emissions, the extent of its obligation to the world, and the pressures it faces as the race to slow the effects of climate change heats up.

Click on the pages to enlarge them.

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(Photo by Phil Lee)

Another great photo taken on my camera by my brother. We were exhausted after a day spent walking the length and breadth of both Buda and Pest. We were waiting for the sun to set over the Danube River.

I collapsed on a bench by the river and, tired of playing tourist, proceeded to play with my mobile phone, ignoring the view. He was the only one with enough energy to continue meandering around the series of statues that lined the riverbank, snapping away as the light quickly and quietly faded around us.

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The realisation that this was a slogan for a popular chain of stores that sell art supplies didn't detract from how fitting it was that this bold statement should be so casually displayed in central London.

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The global financial crisis has renewed interest in Islamic finance and the possibility of greater integration with the conventional financial system in Australia.

Islamic banks' emphasis on strong asset backing for loans make their bonds attractive to low-risk investors and offer more stable alternatives to volatile debt instruments that prevailed in the lead-up to the crisis.

Read the rest of the article below - click on the pages to enlarge them.



Little known fact - one of my favourite uni subjects was Islamic law. It's easy to summarily dismiss (heh, in-joke) a foreign legal system as inherently invalid. It's easier still to parrot criticism of religion - politicised by extremists, exploited by mainstream media and demonised by political rhetoric - rather than arrive at our own informed conclusions.

Now that words like 'marketable' and 'profitable' can be bantered about Islamic law in an Australian context, perhaps many will actually try to do what is so much harder - understand.

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"Climate change may become as popular as asbestos or tobacco in Australian courts as individuals start to feel its effects, says the Environmental Defender's Office."

Remember how excited I was when my first cover story was published? I decided then and there that I could definitely get used to the feeling, if I was ever lucky enough to land myself another any time soon.

Well, this month, I got lucky again. A story on climate litigation I originally wrote for Sustainability Magazine has made the front cover of the latest issue of financial news magazine Insto.





Here is the article in full - click on the pages to enlarge them.





Only subscribers have access to the magazine online, but for a sneak peek at other features in this issue, click here.

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Artwork by: http://creativenerds.co.uk/


While I'm moseying on down this path of shameless self promotion, I should probably direct you to the nifty new widget on the right hand side column of the page (the 'Column of Shame') where you can now see up-to-the-minute tweet-sized updates of my life throughout the day. If you find them particularly interesting, you can even follow me on Twitter (where you will also find a lovely photo of me when I was 3) here.

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"I don't know how to put this but I'm kind of a big deal."


















Check out my first contributor bio (for Insto) here.

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(Photo by Rikzi: Flickr)


Overheard suits talking during rush hour (5.30pm, Wednesday):


"Just so you know, her Dad has a machete."

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Mojitos on deserted islands are so passe. THIS is exactly what I want to be doing when I retire:


(Photo by Phil Lee)

Soaking in 100-year-old Szechenyi Baths all day with my friends...while playing chess. Ohh yeah.

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Want to try an interesting (and inexpensive) romantic gesture? Go to the love tree, where you can (literally) lock your love up and throw away the key in the nearby Danube River.

It's terribly cliche, and probably much more impressive in other places around the world, but it's still kind of a fun idea, and obviously very popular.

I found the different interpretations of what the lock itself might represent the most interesting part of all.









(Wedlock)

I especially liked the combination padlocks, which our guide said highlighted Hungarians' sense of creativity, and I guess, pragmatic nature. Because after all, "What if you break up?"

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In a flat inhabited by a lawyer and two bankers, you wouldn't be surprised to find clothes racks of freshly pressed suits, button-down shirts and shelves of expensive shoes (pumps, boots, trainers, you name it). Being off Brick Lane, an assortment of so-trendy-it-hurts hats and t-shirts wouldn't go astray, either. But this??











In London, anything goes. No one would even look twice.

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In one corner of an experimental manga exhibition in the Tate Modern (directly opposite the IKEA DIY suicide kit, in case you're interested - strange, I know.) there is a window that faces out onto the Millennium Bridge. It has a filmy grey cellophane-like paper covering the entire length of it, save one tiny crack, through which a tiny beam of sunlight filters through.



My brother walks down that bridge every day on his way to work, and this is what he sees:

(Photo by Phil Lee)

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I love travelling.

The week leading up to your departure is often the most exciting. Friends you haven't gotten around to catching up with for a while are suddenly clamouring for a chance to hang out before you leave, as though there's suddenly emerged a 'need' or 'real reason' to put good intentions into action.

People you haven't spoken to in ages are suddenly anxious to find out where you're going, why, and for how long? You start making plans with those on the other side of the world eager to pick up the friendships you once left behind.

Your 'to do' list has stretched to double its normal size, and for a time you shove the thought of physically leaving at the corner of your mind. No time to get excited just yet, you think, every time you're tempted to stop to smile. Finally it comes to packing - translation for: throw a 20kg pile of clothes into a suitcase and hope for the best.

Finally, you pause for breath. I stared at my open suitcase, and the sight brought back to life the reality of what I was about to do. I was going back to London. The place where this blog really began.

Last year, London was where I made so many revelations, both personal and professional, and so many promises, and plans for the future. In the year that has passed since then much has changed, promises broken, plans fallen apart. Yet it has always been, as a result, the place I have looked to for greener pastures.

After all, I haven't been "stuck somewhere between Sydney and London" for no reason at all.

I had booked my tickets earlier this year in an attempt to make the return pilgrimage, to salvage something from it all, or at the very least, to see what the place still has to offer.

Oh, the joys of impermanence. The sheer luxury it entails. Freedom always seems to come shrouded in impermanence, beneath the subtlest of disguises, at the very best of times. Travelling provides you with the perfect alibi. You are 'busy travelling' and therefore legitimately unavailable, indefinitely. Your right to disconnect from the world you know, is validated as soon as you shut your suitcase.

That wish you often make - when buried in commitments, when staring at a line of endless traffic, when running on 9-5 urban autopilot - to cast off the shackles of familiarity and identity is finally granted once you step through the automatic doors of the international terminal. You become nobody to everybody as soon as you turn your back on your loved ones and disappear beyond the sign aptly labelled 'Departure Gates'. For a moment, you are itching to turn and run back. And then you are overwhelmed with the freedom that comes with the possibility that you might never return. It crowns you with your very own halo.

And as great as I'm sure coming home will be, yet again, that restless part of me that longs to flee was awakened with a ticket and a suitcase. I've been gone about two weeks now, and am currently somewhere in greater Europe. Snapshots from my trip so far are coming up soon.

Stay tuned.

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My weekend in a nutshell.

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The title of this post was my original headline for the below article I wrote for Insto on PIPEs (private investments in public equity). Don't worry, about a month ago I had no idea what they were either.

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Remember when everyone was up in arms over the scandalous amounts of money executives were supposedly paid in termination bonuses after companies like AIG and Pacific Brands crashed? "Typical. One law for the rich, another for the poor," our production manager lamented somewhat gleefully upon seeing the headlines in the morning news.

Well, it was around that time of general public disgust that I wrote my first story on executive salaries, and got my first glimpse into the weird and whacky industry of remuneration - that's right, I did say 'industry'. For it was then that I discovered that there are thousands of suits who make a living determining how much other people should be paid which all of a sudden made the phrase 'executive remuneration' a much more interesting one.

Think about it - how do you go about rewarding intrinsically unquantifiable amounts of 'talent'? It's the seemingly random sprinkles of entrepreneurial stardust that can turn a music box into an iPod generation, a daydream into a household brand, not to mention churn out billions of dollars in profit for shareholders and employees alike. But on the other side of the coin, many argued that the incentive of overly generous short term bonuses encouraged the equally 'entrepreneurial' risks many took that have so contributed to the ongoing effects of the global financial crisis.

Painting all executives who are paid astronomically more than you will ever be as the greedy bastards you wish you were, becomes all the more difficult when you learn that remuneration packages in recent years have tended to make it more worthwhile to take those risks and earn massive bonuses, because base salaries have in many cases actually been pretty low in comparison. The crudest (and largely inaccurate) metaphor I could use to illustrate this point is that of a McDonalds cashier working for a lowly $3 an hour, who gets paid a grand every time they throw a huge rock into oncoming traffic and miss all the cars. Sure, there's a huge risk some of those pesky drivers might get hurt in the process, but who wouldn't, given the opportunity?

Compound all of that with the problem of the packages used to pay execs, which are complex little bastards in and of themselves, and don't necessarily guarantee that compensation will be paid in full, if at all. As Heidi Mason, former CEO of Enron's Australian branch (the well performing, honest one) explained to me after the Pacific Brands scandal:

"PacBrands is the perfect example of the most ill-advised media that you’ve seen in a long time. Everything that is quoted about the way Sue’s salary has changed completely ignores the fact that she’s gone from a Divisional General Manager role to a CEO role. The number they’re quoting on the low side is what she was entitled to in a completely different role 12 months ago. The number they’re quoting on the high side includes all aspects of her variable compensation that she’s not necessarily going to get."

Despite all these enlightening moments of discovery, I was still pretty green and uncertain about the ins and outs of it all when I attended the FINSIA breakfast conference on remuneration. I was so nervous I spilled coffee everywhere, and felt the need to explain to anyone I made small talk with that even though I didn't have a name tag and looked about 12, I really was allowed to be there. All attempts to at least appear as nonchalant and confident as the journalists, remuneration specialists and executives around me officially went to the dogs when a woman asked me if I was a 'rem manager too' and my face went completely blank. Rem. Remuneration. Who would've guessed, right?

Thankfully, some good came of it. I wrote an article on the conference which was published in the Insto newsletter, and after a lot more research, gave an overview on all rem reforms in Australia in this article for the magazine:



You'll notice it's very different to my first article on this subject, which had been timidly ridden with long quotes for fear of making any ludicrous conjectures of my own. I've found that financial reporting involves a LOT more assumed knowledge and analytical skill than I'd previously assumed. So I'm pretty proud of this one. :)

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Yesterday, the first copies of this quarter's issue of Insto arrived in the office.

The understated tradition of basking in the glow of the fruit of the last few months' hard work usually lasts for about 15 minutes, and always seems to pass too quickly. First, there's the squeal or yelp from the first person to notice the big brown box entering the premises (This is usually me. Sometimes it's a cross between a squeal and a yelp).

Then there's the eager handing out of copies to the editorial team - the graphic designer carefully scrutinises everything from the colour of the cover to the glue on the spine of the magazine. The contributors lean back in their chairs smugly and flip through the contents, looking out for their articles before seeking each other out to pat themselves on the back once again for a job well done. Self-serving compliments like: "That turned out really well!" and "I really loved the way that page came together" are exchanged, before everyone returns to their respective desks and reluctantly puts their copies just out of their line of vision so they can continue their work.

This issue focused on the future of banking beyond the global financial crisis, with a series of lead articles covering the potential growth of different areas of the financial system. I wrote an article - "Anti-Trust the System" - about the future regulation of Australia's major four banks, which are predicted to grow even bigger on the back of government guarantees.

This is my first cover story. Cover stories are significant because they are of the few selected to feature on the front of a magazine to entice readers to open it, and are therefore usually the first to be read. I never imagined that my first cover story would be about financial regulation. I mean, it wasn't so long ago that I was buying magazines for cover lines like "How to get great cheekbones in 10 minutes". (I knew it could only lead to a single page on blush, foundation sticks and bronzers but I decided the editor's gall deserved $7 if nothing else.)

It was particularly fortuitous that my first cover line was featured on issue #11 (my lucky number), the cover design a throwback to the 1980s Michael J Fox film trilogy "Back to the Future" - the first of which is one of my favourites.




My article starts in a similarly colourful way, and even features a cartoon image I personally selected for the spread. Who said finance was boring, eh?

You can read the story below. Click on the images to enlarge them.

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