I would like to endlessly contribute towards a more sophisticated kinder world that will eventually understand that life within planetary boundaries is the only way to survive.
Childhood
I was a serious kid who preferred long conversations with adults. Curious to the core. Drawn to science, nature, society, politics, culture – anything that hinted at how the world works and why people do what they do. My parents showed love by feeding that curiosity.
Through them I also learned to love the wild, but also to sense the damage humanity inflicts – on ecosystems, and on itself. That awareness led me to seek kindred spirits in our school’s wildlife club, Amici Naturae. A noble name for a group of kids who loved birds, forests, and the thrill of shared concern. And yes, self-organised trips to the wild that served in learning a bit about freedom, leadership, and the wild joy of spontaneous discovery.
Despite all this my identity was one of an urbanite. My hometown Helsinki in the 1980s and ’90s wasn’t a bad backdrop: an evolving urban culture, accessible theatres and gigs, a cycling-friendly city, growing signs of cosmopolitanism. It offered just enough stimulation – and just enough stillness.
That era was less commercial, less curated. We had fewer options, more boredom – and with that came the freedom to invent strange identities and strange ideas. The news was filled with looming threats: nuclear war, acid rain, ozone holes, HIV/AIDS, climate change. I watched those headlines with my parents. I also watched the fall of the Iron Curtain. By that time I had already visited Estonia and Czechoslovakia. Met friends of my parents and their children there. Being bemused on why their life there was different than ours. And why all that secrecy? Therefore, the newly gained freedom of those countries, those people felt very real. Political. Emotional. Tangible.
That shaped me. I saw that futures don’t always follow the rules of the past. That change can be sudden. And that surprise isn’t always a bad thing – it can bring liberation.
When school ended, I wasn’t chasing titles or a steady career. I wanted to live meaningfully. I believed philosophy might offer tools to think clearly, act wisely, and grasp the world’s interconnected dilemmas. I got into the philosophy program at the University of Helsinki – one of the finest of its kind. In retrospect, a pretty good bet.
Adulthood
Did I ever become an adult? I suppose I did – though not by chasing careers or conventional symbols of success. My choices have mostly followed curiosity, love, and an urge to explore the uncharted. I remain a somewhat serious, quietly firm character – driven by complex, ambitious ideas and drawn to blue-sky projects that don’t always fit the mold.
I studied broadly – philosophy, ecology, social psychology, futures studies, semiotics – and wandered into other worlds too: beekeeping, graphic arts, nonprofit governance. I read. I watched films. I cooked. I volunteered. I listened. Eventually, I earned my MA, and much later, a PhD.
I co-founded Dodo, an urban environmental NGO that didn’t quite look or feel like the others. Twice, I helped reimagine it – through new initiatives, bold experiments, and strong-willed friends who believed in something better. I also co-founded Demos Helsinki with Roope Mokka. It grew, survived, succeeded – not because of us alone, but because of the rare spirit of collaboration we nurtured. That part was magical.
Yes, I come from a middle-class, well-educated background. I grew up in a stable, egalitarian society. I’ve always been surrounded by extraordinary people – friends, mentors, partners in thinking and feeling. I’ve had the privilege to pursue odd passions and take strange paths. That privilege is real, and I don’t take it lightly.
Still, I practice experimental future-making and try to live differently. We share a co-housing flat with another family – an ecological, social, joyful way to live mid-life. I travel by train when I can, even from this northern, semi-island nation of ours. It takes planning, and a little romance.
And I still let myself dream. Wild, romantic, anarchic ideas about the purpose of life, better ways of organizing, and futures that haven’t been written yet.
Memories
The murder of Olof Palme. I was eleven. It was a Saturday morning when the news broke. I still remember the moment. A sharp shift in how the world felt. If something like that could happen – here, in the calm North – then anything could.
S. Albert Kivinen’s metaphysics lectures at the University of Helsinki. From Aristotle to C.D. Broad, from ontological naturalism to the philosophy of parapsychology. Strange and serious thinking. Conceptual precision, layered with mystery.
Organising Dodo events—1996, 2000, 2006 through 2010. Some of the finest memories of shared achievement. Events more like happenings or gatherings than seminars. Rooms buzzing with energy. Thought-leaders saying yes. People showing up. Something alive, something new, being born right there.
Johannesburg, 2002. The World Summit on Sustainable Development. Heads of state, scientists, activists, forward-looking business people. I was part of Finland’s official delegation. A young voice among presidents and ministers. Global realities felt closer than ever. So did the weight of responsibility.
The first Demos Helsinki report. Just two of us, Roope Mokka and I, writing a book on the future of the welfare state. We started on the road, driving to a summer cottage. Ideas flowed instantly. Sentences turned to chapters. A real intellectual sync. And when it was published – people listened. The story mattered.
We Were Consumers – Four Stories on the Year 2023. My first real scenario project. A group of friends, bold ideas, long hours. Roope and I shaped the material into a book on the future of consumption. That’s when I really learned the craft. It was timely then. Still is.
Low-carbon tours. Think tank on rails. Think tank on rails. Winters in Finland are long – so we moved our office south for a few weeks each February. Spain. France. Italy. Bought Interrail tickets, rented a house, spent three weeks together. No flights. Just slow travel. Writing. Debating. Cooking and eating well. Dreaming. A small rehearsal for a different kind of future.
The Next Era project. A vision for sustainable wellbeing in a planetary age. I was invited to design and lead a project that aimed to do just that – reimagine the Nordic model for a world shaped by ecological limits and global interdependence. It was a strategic partnership between the Finnish Innovation Fund Sitra and Demos Helsinki. The collaborators were some of the finest people I’ve worked with – colleagues from Demos Helsinki and Sitra.
Together, we explored the contours of what we called The Next Era of Wellbeing.
We organised workshops across three continents. We published dozens of essays and reflections – timely, thoughtful, beautifully crafted – on the future of work, democracy, growth, progress, and planetary boundaries. We met new people who became part of the journey. Shared ideas. Shared concerns. Shared hope.
All this happened during a time when the world was rapidly shifting. Brexit. Trump. Post-truth. Post-globalism. Post-liberalism. Well, the next era. These were, without a doubt, some of the busiest – and most intense – two years of my life.
Getting my PhD accepted. End of an arduous, solitary journey. But eventually it happened, my manuscript was accepted by the pre-examiners. I got the crucial message from my supervisor when finishing 20 kilometers of cross-country skiing in Lapland. Then sauna. Then icy lake. The stress, the doubt, the wait – all washed away.
Defending the PhD. A ceremonial moment I had long anticipated. Family and friends were nervous, but I wasn’t. I knew my terrain. Two defenses, in fact – Radboud University Nijmegen and Tampere University. Both joyful. Both unforgettable. Both reminding me why it’s worth diving deep.
Hobbies
Sauna: My way of relaxing. Place of thoughts, being and purity.
Basketball: My way of bouncing. The game I have played since I was 8. An important metaphor of life and collaboration.
Running: My way of moving faster. Something I hope to keep on doing until the very end.
Rankki: My way for island life and wildlife explorations. Located nearby the city of Kotka in the southern coast of Finland.