We initially published the following interview with Todd in 2022 and have slightly updated it to maintain its relevance. Find the original interview here. Our very first interview with Todd - in 2018 when still with Story Engine - can be read here.

I am ashamed to say I knew nothing about Tasmania, apart from the spinning devil of Bugs Bunny cartoons. Even then, I vaguely aligned it with Africa – not Australia. Before my first work trip here, in 2017, I had never even been to Australia.

I know a lot of expatriate Australians, and they bought into what I now know are pretty old-fashioned views of Tasmania: it is a sadder, poorer part of the country with miserable weather and unambitious people.

It turns out all of this is wrong. Gosh, the climate here is like Southern Oregon or Burgundy, if Burgundy was on the ocean. I’m Canadian, so when Australians complain about the weather I try not to laugh.

We see our talent attraction audience as “ambitious introverts who love nature.” Tasmania isn’t for everyone. If you see your future in a globalised megalopolis, this isn’t your place. But for some people, Tasmania is exactly what they are looking for.

A prompt for our storytelling is the phrase, “The quiet pursuit of the extraordinary.”

The quietness is a positive for our people. The inventiveness that comes from years of isolation, from overcoming obstacles, from hard work, grit, and determination, all of this is a big part of Tasmanian culture. Everything is more expensive here because of shipping costs, so mediocre doesn’t work.

We’re selling meaning more than money, which is harder. But some people see themselves as artisans, creating niche products and services, whether they’re building software (see Savage Interactive), wave-piercing catamarans (see Incat), mining equipment (see Elphinstone), boots (see Blundstone), or making pinot noir, whisky, or cheese.

Tasmanian businesses have been wonderfully receptive. We’ve focused on helping them tell powerful brand stories in a Tasmanian way, and since we listened carefully they do feel it’s their story – that they helped craft it. They recognize themselves in it. This isn’t something a big city agency dropped on them, from the fancy cupboard of jargon words and campaigns.

Tasmanians launched the international green political movement. It’s one of our inventions. This balance and tension, between growth and environmental protection, is deeply personal to people here. It’s a gloriously messy democracy, so it’s not like we can govern with an on/off filter, but all Tasmanians agree that nature is important. It’s our core strength when we tie it to that inventiveness I mentioned earlier.

We are 100% self-sufficient in renewable electricity. We have been net zero for six of the last seven years. We have opportunities to further lower our emissions, to decarbonise our economy quicker than just about anywhere else in the world. But as everyone knows, this is difficult. There aren’t models to follow. We can be a workshop here, as we have problems to solve in Tasmania that can scale globally – thanks to our baseload of renewable electricity.

An example of striking that balance is offering carbon neutral or climate positive travel by 2025. We can lower our emissions as far as we can, and then invest in high-quality Tasmanian offset projects that help lower our emissions further. By choosing to travel to Tasmania, you can be a part of it – the gift of making a positive impact.

We have to chase yield – not volume. Tasmania is not a cheap destination. We can go after meaning.

Be patient. Think like anthropologists more than marketers, in the research phase. Don’t write your requests for proposals the way a consumer product company would write them. You want a deep understanding of your culture, and your first audience should be locals. Listen to them, tell their story back to them, and build some honest pride and momentum. Launch projects to unify efforts.

Before you start telling your story externally, figure out your audience. Understand how your region or country can solve a problem for them. Be culturally specific. Push that as far as you can, asking yourself, “What can only happen here?”

Don’t be afraid to be honest, emotionally and practically, about who you are and who might like to join you – as customers, visitors, investors, students, coders, or open-heart surgeons.

I grew up in a place with a commodity economy, so I feel this challenge in my bones, but commodities are hard. You don’t get a premium for provenance. It doesn’t really matter where it comes from when it’s all about price. Tasmania is part of Australia, which is largely a commodity economy. We sell lots of raw materials, and it’s deeply important to families and communities across Tasmania.

How do you get brand value for a commodity?

We’re thinking about carbon here, about using processes that reduce the carbon impact of everything that comes from Tasmania. We’d like to make it safer and fairer. But even if we do that, we’re doing it because it’s the right thing to do – not because this thing will draw a higher price.

There are only about seven kinds of stories in human history. The Tasmanian story follows a Cinderella plot. This is a place of hardship and obstacles. We made terrible mistakes here, through colonization and our convict past, through the way we treated the environment. Tasmanians are historically underestimated and misunderstood.

The Tasmanian response to all of this is what makes this place so special, so emotionally resonant. We are now a community of artisans and entrepreneurs, protecting each other and the environment, and operating on renewable electricity thanks to a century of hard work and sacrifice that led to our hydro operations.

It’s a rags-to-riches story if you swap out riches for meaning. And these charismatic Tasmanians are Cinderellas.

For my former clients in operational economic development roles, I am sorry for ever thinking poorly of you for not implementing my beautiful strategies. I didn’t appreciate how hard this is. I was naïve.

My team and I use shared projects across government, industries, and communities to unify efforts – lots of small things instead of a few big bets. We don’t do anything alone. I hope the impact of my work here outlives my short time in this role by generations. It’s ultimately about confidence, which is difficult to measure, but it might be the most productive asset in economic, social, and cultural development.

Thank you, Todd.