Category: Blog

Lebanon’s mountain resorts — from Mzaar Ski Resort Faraya to the Cedars of God in Bsharri — offer rare snow in the Middle East, where you can ski by day and swim in the sea by night. But climate change is shrinking snow seasons fast. Resorts like Zaarour, Laqlouq, Faqra, and the Cedars are adapting, turning toward year-round eco-tourism and mountain conservation.

The post Lebanon ski resorts and when to escape climate change appeared first on Green Prophet.

Iran’s second-largest city, Mashhad, is facing an acute water emergency after dam reservoirs feeding the city fell below three percent capacity, according to Iranian state and local media. Officials warn that without rainfall or improved inflows from neighboring Afghanistan, the city’s supply could soon collapse.

“The water storage in Mashhad’s dams has now fallen to less than three percent,” Hossein Esmaeilian, the chief executive of the water company in Iran’s second largest city by population, tells ISNA news agency. He adds that “the current situation shows that managing water use is no longer merely a recommendation — it has become a necessity.”

Mashhad lies in Razavi Khorasan Province in northeastern Iran, a semi-arid region dependent on a small network of dams for drinking water, agriculture, and limited power generation. The most critical of these are the Doosti (Friendship) Dam, built jointly by Iran and Turkmenistan on the Hari (Harirud) River; and the smaller Kardeh and Torogh dams that directly supply the urban network.

The Doosti Dam, completed in 2004 near the Turkmen border, was designed to provide up to 60 % of Mashhad’s potable water. But its inflows have plummeted after Afghanistan’s Taliban government inaugurated the Pashdan Dam upstream on the Hari River near Herat earlier this year. Iranian officials accuse Kabul of violating cross-border water agreements and cutting off critical flows. The Iranian daily Jomhouri-e Eslami warned this week that the new Afghan dam “threatens the very survival” of Mashhad’s reservoirs.

The Hari River — about 1,000 kilometers long — originates in Afghanistan’s central highlands, flows west through Herat into Iran, and ends in Turkmenistan’s Karakum Desert. Historically, its seasonal floods recharged aquifers and sustained farming along the Iranian border. But with multiple new Afghan dams under Taliban control, less water is reaching Iran’s northeastern provinces, even as rising temperatures and a prolonged regional drought accelerate evaporation.

Related: The Taliban kills Japanese water hero

Within Iran, years of poor water management compound the crisis. Kardeh and Torogh dams, both built in the 1970s, are now near “dead storage,” with barely enough volume for municipal use. Over-extraction of groundwater around Mashhad — home to more than three million people and millions of pilgrims annually — has further destabilized the system, causing land subsidence and salinization of wells.

Iran has also been spending billions normalizing terror by finding Palestinians to join Hamas, Lebanese to join the Hezbollah and for the Yemenites to become Houthis. Paying for conflict and not supporting your own people, comes with a high cost. The Iranian regime hates Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Israel so much that it will sacrifice anything in its global jihad.

Experts say the situation underscores both climate vulnerability and political risk in transboundary basins. Iran’s government is pressing for negotiations with the Taliban over shared water rights, as Afghanistan pulls the plug on its water by creating its own dams, but cooperation remains uncertain amid border skirmishes and mistrust.

If inflows from Afghanistan remain restricted and rainfall fails again this winter, Mashhad could face mandatory rationing and long-term aquifer collapse — a warning sign for the entire region as climate change and geopolitics converge in Iran’s drying east. Could we see a bigger conflict between Iran and Afghanistan? A good possibility. Similar tensions have been brewing for years between Ethiopia building the GERD dam and Egypt which is being denied water upstream.

If you’ve ever travelled to cities like Amman, Jordan, the water-stressed city shows how life goes on with water stress. Some city folks get water piped in once a week, but because municipal supply is so limited, many households, businesses, and institutions buy extra water from private tanker trucks and store this in private reservoirs so they never run out.

The post Iran’s holiest city about to run dry as terror chosen over water management appeared first on Green Prophet.

apan’s winters reveal a quieter magic far from the cherry blossoms — a landscape of deep snow, mountain silence, and steaming hot springs. From Niseko’s legendary powder in Hokkaido to the Olympic slopes of Hakuba and the ancient baths of Nozawa Onsen, Japan offers some of the world’s most sustainable and culturally rich ski experiences. With efficient bullet-train access, renewable-powered resorts, and geothermal onsens under falling snow, this is how to ski Japan responsibly — where tradition, technology, and climate awareness meet on the same mountain.

The post Ski Japan and skip the cherry blossoms appeared first on Green Prophet.

Iran’s second-largest city, Mashhad, is facing an acute water emergency after dam reservoirs feeding the city fell below three percent capacity, according to Iranian state and local media. Officials warn that without rainfall or improved inflows from neighboring Afghanistan, the city’s supply could soon collapse.

“The water storage in Mashhad’s dams has now fallen to less than three percent,” Hossein Esmaeilian, the chief executive of the water company in Iran’s second largest city by population, tells ISNA news agency. He adds that “the current situation shows that managing water use is no longer merely a recommendation — it has become a necessity.”

Mashhad lies in Razavi Khorasan Province in northeastern Iran, a semi-arid region dependent on a small network of dams for drinking water, agriculture, and limited power generation. The most critical of these are the Doosti (Friendship) Dam, built jointly by Iran and Turkmenistan on the Hari (Harirud) River; and the smaller Kardeh and Torogh dams that directly supply the urban network.

The Doosti Dam, completed in 2004 near the Turkmen border, was designed to provide up to 60 % of Mashhad’s potable water. But its inflows have plummeted after Afghanistan’s Taliban government inaugurated the Pashdan Dam upstream on the Hari River near Herat earlier this year. Iranian officials accuse Kabul of violating cross-border water agreements and cutting off critical flows. The Iranian daily Jomhouri-e Eslami warned this week that the new Afghan dam “threatens the very survival” of Mashhad’s reservoirs.

The Hari River — about 1,000 kilometers long — originates in Afghanistan’s central highlands, flows west through Herat into Iran, and ends in Turkmenistan’s Karakum Desert. Historically, its seasonal floods recharged aquifers and sustained farming along the Iranian border. But with multiple new Afghan dams under Taliban control, less water is reaching Iran’s northeastern provinces, even as rising temperatures and a prolonged regional drought accelerate evaporation.

Related: The Taliban kills Japanese water hero

Within Iran, years of poor water management compound the crisis. Kardeh and Torogh dams, both built in the 1970s, are now near “dead storage,” with barely enough volume for municipal use. Over-extraction of groundwater around Mashhad — home to more than three million people and millions of pilgrims annually — has further destabilized the system, causing land subsidence and salinization of wells.

Iran has also been spending billions normalizing terror by finding Palestinians to join Hamas, Lebanese to join the Hezbollah and for the Yemenites to become Houthis. Paying for conflict and not supporting your own people, comes with a high cost. The Iranian regime hates Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Israel so much that it will sacrifice anything in its global jihad.

Experts say the situation underscores both climate vulnerability and political risk in transboundary basins. Iran’s government is pressing for negotiations with the Taliban over shared water rights, as Afghanistan pulls the plug on its water by creating its own dams, but cooperation remains uncertain amid border skirmishes and mistrust.

If inflows from Afghanistan remain restricted and rainfall fails again this winter, Mashhad could face mandatory rationing and long-term aquifer collapse — a warning sign for the entire region as climate change and geopolitics converge in Iran’s drying east. Could we see a bigger conflict between Iran and Afghanistan? A good possibility. Similar tensions have been brewing for years between Ethiopia building the GERD dam and Egypt which is being denied water upstream.

If you’ve ever travelled to cities like Amman, Jordan, the water-stressed city shows how life goes on with water stress. Some city folks get water piped in once a week, but because municipal supply is so limited, many households, businesses, and institutions buy extra water from private tanker trucks and store this in private reservoirs so they never run out.

The post Iran’s holiest city about to run dry as terror chosen over water management appeared first on Green Prophet.

Iran’s second-largest city, Mashhad, is facing an acute water emergency after dam reservoirs feeding the city fell below three percent capacity, according to Iranian state and local media. Officials warn that without rainfall or improved inflows from neighboring Afghanistan, the city’s supply could soon collapse.

The post Iran’s holiest city about to run dry as terror chosen over water management appeared first on Green Prophet.

Iran’s second-largest city, Mashhad, is facing an acute water emergency after dam reservoirs feeding the city fell below three percent capacity, according to Iranian state and local media. Officials warn that without rainfall or improved inflows from neighboring Afghanistan, the city’s supply could soon collapse.

“The water storage in Mashhad’s dams has now fallen to less than three percent,” Hossein Esmaeilian, the chief executive of the water company in Iran’s second largest city by population, tells ISNA news agency. He adds that “the current situation shows that managing water use is no longer merely a recommendation — it has become a necessity.”

Mashhad lies in Razavi Khorasan Province in northeastern Iran, a semi-arid region dependent on a small network of dams for drinking water, agriculture, and limited power generation. The most critical of these are the Doosti (Friendship) Dam, built jointly by Iran and Turkmenistan on the Hari (Harirud) River; and the smaller Kardeh and Torogh dams that directly supply the urban network.

The Doosti Dam, completed in 2004 near the Turkmen border, was designed to provide up to 60 % of Mashhad’s potable water. But its inflows have plummeted after Afghanistan’s Taliban government inaugurated the Pashdan Dam upstream on the Hari River near Herat earlier this year. Iranian officials accuse Kabul of violating cross-border water agreements and cutting off critical flows. The Iranian daily Jomhouri-e Eslami warned this week that the new Afghan dam “threatens the very survival” of Mashhad’s reservoirs.

The Hari River — about 1,000 kilometers long — originates in Afghanistan’s central highlands, flows west through Herat into Iran, and ends in Turkmenistan’s Karakum Desert. Historically, its seasonal floods recharged aquifers and sustained farming along the Iranian border. But with multiple new Afghan dams under Taliban control, less water is reaching Iran’s northeastern provinces, even as rising temperatures and a prolonged regional drought accelerate evaporation.

Related: The Taliban kills Japanese water hero

Within Iran, years of poor water management compound the crisis. Kardeh and Torogh dams, both built in the 1970s, are now near “dead storage,” with barely enough volume for municipal use. Over-extraction of groundwater around Mashhad — home to more than three million people and millions of pilgrims annually — has further destabilized the system, causing land subsidence and salinization of wells.

Iran has also been spending billions normalizing terror by finding Palestinians to join Hamas, Lebanese to join the Hezbollah and for the Yemenites to become Houthis. Paying for conflict and not supporting your own people, comes with a high cost. The Iranian regime hates Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Israel so much that it will sacrifice anything in its global jihad.

Experts say the situation underscores both climate vulnerability and political risk in transboundary basins. Iran’s government is pressing for negotiations with the Taliban over shared water rights, as Afghanistan pulls the plug on its water by creating its own dams, but cooperation remains uncertain amid border skirmishes and mistrust.

If inflows from Afghanistan remain restricted and rainfall fails again this winter, Mashhad could face mandatory rationing and long-term aquifer collapse — a warning sign for the entire region as climate change and geopolitics converge in Iran’s drying east. Could we see a bigger conflict between Iran and Afghanistan? A good possibility. Similar tensions have been brewing for years between Ethiopia building the GERD dam and Egypt which is being denied water upstream.

If you’ve ever travelled to cities like Amman, Jordan, the water-stressed city shows how life goes on with water stress. Some city folks get water piped in once a week, but because municipal supply is so limited, many households, businesses, and institutions buy extra water from private tanker trucks and store this in private reservoirs so they never run out.

The post Iran’s holiest city about to run dry as terror chosen over water management appeared first on Green Prophet.

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On November 6, 2025, Houston welcomed its newest civic landmark: the Ismaili Center, Houston, a luminous Shia Muslim complex overlooking Buffalo Bayou Park that merges Islamic art, architecture, and landscape design. It was inaugurated by Mayor John Whitmire alongside Rahim Aga Khan V. Aga Khan is the new Imam of the world’s Shia Ismaili Muslims […]

The post Houston’s Shia Muslim Ismaili center opens amid Texas faith and climate tensions appeared first on Green Prophet.

Most developers see economic downturns as something to endure. Michael Shanly has consistently seen them as opportunities to strengthen his business for the long term. Across five major crises – from the 1974 property crash to the COVID-19 pandemic – his approach has remained remarkably steady: adapt quickly, stay close to operations, and make decisions that build resilience rather than short-term relief.

The record speaks for itself. While many of his competitors have retrenched, restructured, or disappeared altogether during economic turbulence, Michael Shanly has emerged from each cycle stronger. His companies have built more than 12,000 homes, developed 1,500 commercial tenancies and maintained consistently high standards of quality – all while facing the same economic headwinds that have undone much of Britain’s property sector.

This isn’t a story of good fortune. Over five decades, luck evens out. The more interesting question is what principles have allowed Shanly to keep finding stability when others could not.

1974: Building a Foundation in Crisis

In 1974, Britain’s economy was in disarray. The global oil shock had sent inflation spiralling, credit was tightening, and the property market was grinding to a halt. Mortgage rates soared and development finance all but dried up.

At a construction site in Maidenhead, Shanly found himself managing a project that had suddenly become financially uncertain. Where most developers chose to pause and wait for the market to recover, he took a more pragmatic view. On the site sat a house marked for demolition. Rather than proceed with the original plan, he converted it into rental flats to generate income that would support the wider development.

It was a small, adaptive decision that kept the project alive when others stalled. More importantly, it revealed a broader truth: property could be managed for steady, long-term income rather than short-term speculation.

That insight became the foundation of what would later be Sorbon Estates, formally incorporated in 1994 but built on habits formed two decades earlier. The willingness to adapt, to find practical solutions rather than wait for ideal conditions, would define his career and shape the group’s approach to every crisis that followed.

Principle One: Lead from the Ground, Not the Boardroom

The most telling part of that 1974 episode isn’t the rental conversion itself, but how Shanly handled it. He took over day-to-day site management to control costs and keep the project on track. It wasn’t symbolic; it was necessary.

That operational involvement became a consistent feature of his leadership. By understanding the details of his developments first-hand, Shanly has always been able to make decisions grounded in practical reality. It also set a cultural tone: accountability starts at the top, and leadership means engagement, not distance.

As he puts it, “I like to do things the best we can. I still go round our sites tweaking and improving so we can be proud of what we’ve built.”

This attention to the operational side of business builds credibility internally and foresight externally. Problems are spotted earlier, decisions are more informed, and teams are more aligned. It’s a habit that compounds over time.

 

2020: Agility in a New Kind of Crisis

By 2020, Shanly had weathered recessions, housing slumps and banking crises. The COVID-19 pandemic posed a different challenge altogether – not a property collapse, but a nationwide standstill that disrupted every sector at once.

The response of the Shanly Foundation showed how deeply the group’s long-term principles had taken root. Within weeks, the foundation had created an emergency fund distributing nearly £185,000 to more than 100 local charities supporting those most affected by the crisis.

This was not a reactive act of goodwill but an example of institutional readiness. The systems and relationships built over decades allowed the foundation to act quickly and effectively. Agility, in this case, wasn’t improvised – it was the natural outcome of long-term planning.

The lesson was clear: resilience is not built during the crisis. It’s built in advance, through decisions that favour strength and stability over convenience.

Thinking in Decades, Not Quarters

Shanly’s approach rests on a simple but often neglected principle: think in decades, not quarters.

The most sustainable advantages come from long-term thinking – prioritising relationships, quality and reputation over immediate returns. Sorbon Estates has embodied this by holding its properties rather than selling them on, favouring stable income and tenant longevity over speculative growth.

That philosophy shapes its tenant mix too. More than half of Sorbon’s retail tenants are independents, a deliberate choice that brings diversity and resilience to local high streets. When national chains falter, independent traders tend to adapt and endure. It’s a quieter, steadier model that has repeatedly proved its worth in difficult markets.

In downturns, this focus on quality and relationships provides a buffer. Tenants who are treated as partners are more likely to renew, diversify and grow. The real advantage comes afterwards: when the market recovers, companies that have stayed consistent, kept their standards and maintained their reputation are in a far stronger position to grow.

Quality as a Form of Insurance

Perhaps the most distinctive part of Michael Shanly’s approach is his insistence on quality, even when conditions are toughest. Where others cut costs, he has chosen to protect standards.

His philosophy is straightforward: “True development is not about speed or cost-cutting, but about crafting spaces with lasting value that meet the needs of their communities and endure for generations.”

It’s a principle that pays off over time. Well-built developments hold their value better, attract repeat buyers and tenants, and build trust with planners and communities. Those who compromise during crises often spend years rebuilding both their reputation and their margins.

The Shanly Group’s integrated model – from land acquisition through to construction, investment and affordable housing – allows this quality control at every stage. It’s one reason Shanly Homes was recognised as Thames Valley’s Housebuilder of the Year in 2021 and 2025 and Sorbon Estates was awarded Commercial Landlord of the Year, also in 2025.

The Compounding Effect of Consistency

Across five decades and five major crises, Shanly’s career demonstrates how resilience compounds. Each downturn provided lessons and systems that strengthened the organisation for the next.

The decision to convert a single house into rental flats in 1974 led to an income-based investment model that underpins Sorbon Estates today. The careful infrastructure behind the Shanly Foundation allowed a rapid pandemic response in 2020. The refusal to compromise on quality has become a brand asset in its own right.

For business leaders, the message is straightforward. Resilience isn’t built from grand gestures or sudden innovation, but from steady, consistent decisions repeated over time.

Lead from the ground. Maintain standards. Think long-term. Build relationships.

None of these ideas are new. But few have been applied with such consistency, across so many challenges, for so long.

 

The post Built to Last: How Michael Shanly Turned Five Economic Crises into Enduring Strengths appeared first on Green Prophet.

Around the press, the team uncovered dwellings and courtyards that hint at an early village economy. The winemaking enterprise was likely community-based, tied to the cycles of agriculture and celebration. Megiddo’s residents were already part of a regional network that shipped jars of oil, grain, and perhaps even wine to Egypt and the wider Mediterranean world.

The post Canaan’s sacred wine and folk worship in the fields appeared first on Green Prophet.

Most developers see economic downturns as something to endure. Michael Shanly has consistently seen them as opportunities to strengthen his business for the long term. Across five major crises – from the 1974 property crash to the COVID-19 pandemic – his approach has remained remarkably steady: adapt quickly, stay close to operations, and make decisions that build resilience rather than short-term relief.

The record speaks for itself. While many of his competitors have retrenched, restructured, or disappeared altogether during economic turbulence, Michael Shanly has emerged from each cycle stronger. His companies have built more than 12,000 homes, developed 1,500 commercial tenancies and maintained consistently high standards of quality – all while facing the same economic headwinds that have undone much of Britain’s property sector.

This isn’t a story of good fortune. Over five decades, luck evens out. The more interesting question is what principles have allowed Shanly to keep finding stability when others could not.

1974: Building a Foundation in Crisis

In 1974, Britain’s economy was in disarray. The global oil shock had sent inflation spiralling, credit was tightening, and the property market was grinding to a halt. Mortgage rates soared and development finance all but dried up.

At a construction site in Maidenhead, Shanly found himself managing a project that had suddenly become financially uncertain. Where most developers chose to pause and wait for the market to recover, he took a more pragmatic view. On the site sat a house marked for demolition. Rather than proceed with the original plan, he converted it into rental flats to generate income that would support the wider development.

It was a small, adaptive decision that kept the project alive when others stalled. More importantly, it revealed a broader truth: property could be managed for steady, long-term income rather than short-term speculation.

That insight became the foundation of what would later be Sorbon Estates, formally incorporated in 1994 but built on habits formed two decades earlier. The willingness to adapt, to find practical solutions rather than wait for ideal conditions, would define his career and shape the group’s approach to every crisis that followed.

Principle One: Lead from the Ground, Not the Boardroom

The most telling part of that 1974 episode isn’t the rental conversion itself, but how Shanly handled it. He took over day-to-day site management to control costs and keep the project on track. It wasn’t symbolic; it was necessary.

That operational involvement became a consistent feature of his leadership. By understanding the details of his developments first-hand, Shanly has always been able to make decisions grounded in practical reality. It also set a cultural tone: accountability starts at the top, and leadership means engagement, not distance.

As he puts it, “I like to do things the best we can. I still go round our sites tweaking and improving so we can be proud of what we’ve built.”

This attention to the operational side of business builds credibility internally and foresight externally. Problems are spotted earlier, decisions are more informed, and teams are more aligned. It’s a habit that compounds over time.

 

2020: Agility in a New Kind of Crisis

By 2020, Shanly had weathered recessions, housing slumps and banking crises. The COVID-19 pandemic posed a different challenge altogether – not a property collapse, but a nationwide standstill that disrupted every sector at once.

The response of the Shanly Foundation showed how deeply the group’s long-term principles had taken root. Within weeks, the foundation had created an emergency fund distributing nearly £185,000 to more than 100 local charities supporting those most affected by the crisis.

This was not a reactive act of goodwill but an example of institutional readiness. The systems and relationships built over decades allowed the foundation to act quickly and effectively. Agility, in this case, wasn’t improvised – it was the natural outcome of long-term planning.

The lesson was clear: resilience is not built during the crisis. It’s built in advance, through decisions that favour strength and stability over convenience.

Thinking in Decades, Not Quarters

Shanly’s approach rests on a simple but often neglected principle: think in decades, not quarters.

The most sustainable advantages come from long-term thinking – prioritising relationships, quality and reputation over immediate returns. Sorbon Estates has embodied this by holding its properties rather than selling them on, favouring stable income and tenant longevity over speculative growth.

That philosophy shapes its tenant mix too. More than half of Sorbon’s retail tenants are independents, a deliberate choice that brings diversity and resilience to local high streets. When national chains falter, independent traders tend to adapt and endure. It’s a quieter, steadier model that has repeatedly proved its worth in difficult markets.

In downturns, this focus on quality and relationships provides a buffer. Tenants who are treated as partners are more likely to renew, diversify and grow. The real advantage comes afterwards: when the market recovers, companies that have stayed consistent, kept their standards and maintained their reputation are in a far stronger position to grow.

Quality as a Form of Insurance

Perhaps the most distinctive part of Michael Shanly’s approach is his insistence on quality, even when conditions are toughest. Where others cut costs, he has chosen to protect standards.

His philosophy is straightforward: “True development is not about speed or cost-cutting, but about crafting spaces with lasting value that meet the needs of their communities and endure for generations.”

It’s a principle that pays off over time. Well-built developments hold their value better, attract repeat buyers and tenants, and build trust with planners and communities. Those who compromise during crises often spend years rebuilding both their reputation and their margins.

The Shanly Group’s integrated model – from land acquisition through to construction, investment and affordable housing – allows this quality control at every stage. It’s one reason Shanly Homes was recognised as Thames Valley’s Housebuilder of the Year in 2021 and 2025 and Sorbon Estates was awarded Commercial Landlord of the Year, also in 2025.

The Compounding Effect of Consistency

Across five decades and five major crises, Shanly’s career demonstrates how resilience compounds. Each downturn provided lessons and systems that strengthened the organisation for the next.

The decision to convert a single house into rental flats in 1974 led to an income-based investment model that underpins Sorbon Estates today. The careful infrastructure behind the Shanly Foundation allowed a rapid pandemic response in 2020. The refusal to compromise on quality has become a brand asset in its own right.

For business leaders, the message is straightforward. Resilience isn’t built from grand gestures or sudden innovation, but from steady, consistent decisions repeated over time.

Lead from the ground. Maintain standards. Think long-term. Build relationships.

None of these ideas are new. But few have been applied with such consistency, across so many challenges, for so long.

 

The post Built to Last: How Michael Shanly Turned Five Economic Crises into Enduring Strengths appeared first on Green Prophet.

Most developers see economic downturns as something to endure. Michael Shanly has consistently seen them as opportunities to strengthen his business for the long term. Across five major crises – from the 1974 property crash to the COVID-19 pandemic – his approach has remained remarkably steady: adapt quickly, stay close to operations, and make decisions that build resilience rather than short-term relief.

The post Built to Last: How Michael Shanly Turned Five Economic Crises into Enduring Strengths appeared first on Green Prophet.

Most developers see economic downturns as something to endure. Michael Shanly has consistently seen them as opportunities to strengthen his business for the long term. Across five major crises – from the 1974 property crash to the COVID-19 pandemic – his approach has remained remarkably steady: adapt quickly, stay close to operations, and make decisions that build resilience rather than short-term relief.

The record speaks for itself. While many of his competitors have retrenched, restructured, or disappeared altogether during economic turbulence, Michael Shanly has emerged from each cycle stronger. His companies have built more than 12,000 homes, developed 1,500 commercial tenancies and maintained consistently high standards of quality – all while facing the same economic headwinds that have undone much of Britain’s property sector.

This isn’t a story of good fortune. Over five decades, luck evens out. The more interesting question is what principles have allowed Shanly to keep finding stability when others could not.

1974: Building a Foundation in Crisis

In 1974, Britain’s economy was in disarray. The global oil shock had sent inflation spiralling, credit was tightening, and the property market was grinding to a halt. Mortgage rates soared and development finance all but dried up.

At a construction site in Maidenhead, Shanly found himself managing a project that had suddenly become financially uncertain. Where most developers chose to pause and wait for the market to recover, he took a more pragmatic view. On the site sat a house marked for demolition. Rather than proceed with the original plan, he converted it into rental flats to generate income that would support the wider development.

It was a small, adaptive decision that kept the project alive when others stalled. More importantly, it revealed a broader truth: property could be managed for steady, long-term income rather than short-term speculation.

That insight became the foundation of what would later be Sorbon Estates, formally incorporated in 1994 but built on habits formed two decades earlier. The willingness to adapt, to find practical solutions rather than wait for ideal conditions, would define his career and shape the group’s approach to every crisis that followed.

Principle One: Lead from the Ground, Not the Boardroom

The most telling part of that 1974 episode isn’t the rental conversion itself, but how Shanly handled it. He took over day-to-day site management to control costs and keep the project on track. It wasn’t symbolic; it was necessary.

That operational involvement became a consistent feature of his leadership. By understanding the details of his developments first-hand, Shanly has always been able to make decisions grounded in practical reality. It also set a cultural tone: accountability starts at the top, and leadership means engagement, not distance.

As he puts it, “I like to do things the best we can. I still go round our sites tweaking and improving so we can be proud of what we’ve built.”

This attention to the operational side of business builds credibility internally and foresight externally. Problems are spotted earlier, decisions are more informed, and teams are more aligned. It’s a habit that compounds over time.

 

2020: Agility in a New Kind of Crisis

By 2020, Shanly had weathered recessions, housing slumps and banking crises. The COVID-19 pandemic posed a different challenge altogether – not a property collapse, but a nationwide standstill that disrupted every sector at once.

The response of the Shanly Foundation showed how deeply the group’s long-term principles had taken root. Within weeks, the foundation had created an emergency fund distributing nearly £185,000 to more than 100 local charities supporting those most affected by the crisis.

This was not a reactive act of goodwill but an example of institutional readiness. The systems and relationships built over decades allowed the foundation to act quickly and effectively. Agility, in this case, wasn’t improvised – it was the natural outcome of long-term planning.

The lesson was clear: resilience is not built during the crisis. It’s built in advance, through decisions that favour strength and stability over convenience.

Thinking in Decades, Not Quarters

Shanly’s approach rests on a simple but often neglected principle: think in decades, not quarters.

The most sustainable advantages come from long-term thinking – prioritising relationships, quality and reputation over immediate returns. Sorbon Estates has embodied this by holding its properties rather than selling them on, favouring stable income and tenant longevity over speculative growth.

That philosophy shapes its tenant mix too. More than half of Sorbon’s retail tenants are independents, a deliberate choice that brings diversity and resilience to local high streets. When national chains falter, independent traders tend to adapt and endure. It’s a quieter, steadier model that has repeatedly proved its worth in difficult markets.

In downturns, this focus on quality and relationships provides a buffer. Tenants who are treated as partners are more likely to renew, diversify and grow. The real advantage comes afterwards: when the market recovers, companies that have stayed consistent, kept their standards and maintained their reputation are in a far stronger position to grow.

Quality as a Form of Insurance

Perhaps the most distinctive part of Michael Shanly’s approach is his insistence on quality, even when conditions are toughest. Where others cut costs, he has chosen to protect standards.

His philosophy is straightforward: “True development is not about speed or cost-cutting, but about crafting spaces with lasting value that meet the needs of their communities and endure for generations.”

It’s a principle that pays off over time. Well-built developments hold their value better, attract repeat buyers and tenants, and build trust with planners and communities. Those who compromise during crises often spend years rebuilding both their reputation and their margins.

The Shanly Group’s integrated model – from land acquisition through to construction, investment and affordable housing – allows this quality control at every stage. It’s one reason Shanly Homes was recognised as Thames Valley’s Housebuilder of the Year in 2021 and 2025 and Sorbon Estates was awarded Commercial Landlord of the Year, also in 2025.

The Compounding Effect of Consistency

Across five decades and five major crises, Shanly’s career demonstrates how resilience compounds. Each downturn provided lessons and systems that strengthened the organisation for the next.

The decision to convert a single house into rental flats in 1974 led to an income-based investment model that underpins Sorbon Estates today. The careful infrastructure behind the Shanly Foundation allowed a rapid pandemic response in 2020. The refusal to compromise on quality has become a brand asset in its own right.

For business leaders, the message is straightforward. Resilience isn’t built from grand gestures or sudden innovation, but from steady, consistent decisions repeated over time.

Lead from the ground. Maintain standards. Think long-term. Build relationships.

None of these ideas are new. But few have been applied with such consistency, across so many challenges, for so long.

 

The post Built to Last: How Michael Shanly Turned Five Economic Crises into Enduring Strengths appeared first on Green Prophet.

“You cannot heal what you refuse to confront.” ~Yasmin Mogahed

At sixteen, I walked out of my mother’s house with track marks and a half-packed bag. No big fight. No slammed door. Just the silent resignation of someone who couldn’t look his mother in the eye anymore. I wasn’t leaving home—I was bailing on it. On everything.

I didn’t know the word “addiction.” Well, I knew it; I just didn’t understand it. I didn’t know that the flu I kept getting was withdrawal. I thought I was just weak. A loser. A burnout who couldn’t even use the …

“You cannot heal what you refuse to confront.” ~Yasmin Mogahed

At sixteen, I walked out of my mother’s house with track marks and a half-packed bag. No big fight. No slammed door. Just the silent resignation of someone who couldn’t look his mother in the eye anymore. I wasn’t leaving home—I was bailing on it. On everything.

I didn’t know the word “addiction.” Well, I knew it; I just didn’t understand it. I didn’t know that the flu I kept getting was withdrawal. I thought I was just weak. A loser. A burnout who couldn’t even use the right way.

Over the next few years, I would burn through twenty-two treatment centers and detoxes. Not metaphorically. I mean actual beds, actual paperwork, actual roommates, each one thinking they’d seen someone like me before. I gave every counselor the same script:

I’m ready this time. I just need a reset.

I’d be out within days. Sometimes hours.

I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t even close.

The Real Lie

You’d think the biggest lie I told was to my family. Or the judges. Or to all those people who loved me even when I gave them nothing back.

But the worst lies? They were internal.

I told myself:

“This is just a phase.”

“I can stop if I want.”

“I’m only hurting myself.”

I convinced myself that survival was the goal. Not growth. Not connection. Just survive the day, or at least numb it out enough that it passed quietly.

That internal voice doesn’t yell. It whispers. It’s slick. And when you’re lonely, exhausted, and chemically dependent, it becomes your best friend. Your only friend.

A Moment I Can’t Forget

One night in my early twenties, I found myself strapped to a hospital bed in Delaware after a suicide attempt that didn’t go as planned. I came to with tubes in my arms, the taste of iron in my mouth, and the sterile white ceiling staring back at me like it knew something I didn’t.

There was no grand awakening. No movie-scene moment with tears and violins. Just silence, and this strange, unfamiliar feeling: I’m still here.

Something cracked open that night—not in a way anyone else could see, but in the quiet back room of my own awareness. A voice I’d been ignoring for years—maybe my whole life—started whispering a little louder.

I didn’t listen to it right away. I moved to Florida not long after, trying to outrun the damage and the shame. Spent nearly a decade bouncing through treatment centers, sober houses, friends’ couches—living on repeat. That voice showed up now and then, like a static signal in the background. But I was still too busy numbing out to really hear it.

And then one day, years later, something changed. I finally stopped trying to shut it up. I sat still long enough to let it speak.

The first thing it said wasn’t poetic or profound. It was blunt. Look around. So I did.

And what I saw hit me like a slow-building wave:

I was in Arizona. Thousands of miles from my family.

I had a daughter, two years old, living in another state—barely part of my life.

I missed everyone. I missed myself. And I was scared.

That voice didn’t accuse or condemn. It just kept going:

You’re allowed to want more. You can change. Start now.

Where I Finally Stopped Running

I got sober in Arizona on September 26, 2010. But the real work, the soul-level renovation, started in the days and weeks that followed.

There was no lightning bolt, no sudden surge of motivation. Just a quiet commitment to stop lying to myself.

Healing came in moments that felt ordinary:

Brushing my teeth in a sober living house and actually looking in the mirror. Making it to a job on time. Letting someone ask how I was—and answering without deflection.

I learned that sobriety wasn’t just about quitting substances. It was about telling the truth. Especially to myself.

I stopped performing. I stopped pretending I was fine. I let myself want better, and then, I started doing the boring, uncomfortable, necessary things that actually create change.

Arizona, the place I’d originally come to because of a fling, became the ground where I finally planted roots. The place where I learned how to show up—not just for others, but for me.

What I Know Now (That I Wish I Knew Then)

We don’t change because someone tells us we should. We change because something inside us starts to believe, however faintly, that we’re capable of more.

The catch is: You have to stop bullshitting yourself first.

That means:

Calling out the voice in your head that wants to keep you small.

Sitting in discomfort without escaping.

Letting people in, even when it feels like exposure.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. Most people don’t. But you do need to get honest about where you’re at, and what that place is costing you.

Sometimes rock bottom isn’t a single event. It’s the accumulation of tiny self-abandonments that pile up until there’s barely any of you left.

For Anyone in the Thick of It

If you’re reading this in the middle of your own mess, I won’t throw platitudes at you. Life isn’t a Hallmark movie, and recovery isn’t a montage.

But here’s what I can offer:

You’re not broken. You’re buried.

There’s still a version of you under the pain, the denial, the self-sabotage. And that version doesn’t need to be created from scratch; it just needs to be remembered.

You don’t need a plan. You need a moment. One honest, gut-level moment where you stop running. That’s enough to start.

And yes, it’ll be uncomfortable. But growth always is.

See more posts

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.

If you’ve felt overwhelmed lately—by responsibilities, by the pace of life, by the noise in the world—you’re not alone. Many of us are moving through our days on autopilot, carrying stress in our bodies that we barely notice until we finally slow down.

When that goes on long enough, the body tightens. The breath shortens. The nervous system stays braced for impact, even when nothing is immediately wrong.

This is why practices that help us reinhabit the body and soothe the nervous system can feel so powerful. They remind us we don’t have to live in a state of tension. …

“You cannot heal what you refuse to confront.” ~Yasmin Mogahed

At sixteen, I walked out of my mother’s house with track marks and a half-packed bag. No big fight. No slammed door. Just the silent resignation of someone who couldn’t look his mother in the eye anymore. I wasn’t leaving home—I was bailing on it. On everything.

I didn’t know the word “addiction.” Well, I knew it; I just didn’t understand it. I didn’t know that the flu I kept getting was withdrawal. I thought I was just weak. A loser. A burnout who couldn’t even use the right way.

Over the next few years, I would burn through twenty-two treatment centers and detoxes. Not metaphorically. I mean actual beds, actual paperwork, actual roommates, each one thinking they’d seen someone like me before. I gave every counselor the same script:

I’m ready this time. I just need a reset.

I’d be out within days. Sometimes hours.

I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t even close.

The Real Lie

You’d think the biggest lie I told was to my family. Or the judges. Or to all those people who loved me even when I gave them nothing back.

But the worst lies? They were internal.

I told myself:

“This is just a phase.”

“I can stop if I want.”

“I’m only hurting myself.”

I convinced myself that survival was the goal. Not growth. Not connection. Just survive the day, or at least numb it out enough that it passed quietly.

That internal voice doesn’t yell. It whispers. It’s slick. And when you’re lonely, exhausted, and chemically dependent, it becomes your best friend. Your only friend.

A Moment I Can’t Forget

One night in my early twenties, I found myself strapped to a hospital bed in Delaware after a suicide attempt that didn’t go as planned. I came to with tubes in my arms, the taste of iron in my mouth, and the sterile white ceiling staring back at me like it knew something I didn’t.

There was no grand awakening. No movie-scene moment with tears and violins. Just silence, and this strange, unfamiliar feeling: I’m still here.

Something cracked open that night—not in a way anyone else could see, but in the quiet back room of my own awareness. A voice I’d been ignoring for years—maybe my whole life—started whispering a little louder.

I didn’t listen to it right away. I moved to Florida not long after, trying to outrun the damage and the shame. Spent nearly a decade bouncing through treatment centers, sober houses, friends’ couches—living on repeat. That voice showed up now and then, like a static signal in the background. But I was still too busy numbing out to really hear it.

And then one day, years later, something changed. I finally stopped trying to shut it up. I sat still long enough to let it speak.

The first thing it said wasn’t poetic or profound. It was blunt. Look around. So I did.

And what I saw hit me like a slow-building wave:

I was in Arizona. Thousands of miles from my family.

I had a daughter, two years old, living in another state—barely part of my life.

I missed everyone. I missed myself. And I was scared.

That voice didn’t accuse or condemn. It just kept going:

You’re allowed to want more. You can change. Start now.

Where I Finally Stopped Running

I got sober in Arizona on September 26, 2010. But the real work, the soul-level renovation, started in the days and weeks that followed.

There was no lightning bolt, no sudden surge of motivation. Just a quiet commitment to stop lying to myself.

Healing came in moments that felt ordinary:

Brushing my teeth in a sober living house and actually looking in the mirror. Making it to a job on time. Letting someone ask how I was—and answering without deflection.

I learned that sobriety wasn’t just about quitting substances. It was about telling the truth. Especially to myself.

I stopped performing. I stopped pretending I was fine. I let myself want better, and then, I started doing the boring, uncomfortable, necessary things that actually create change.

Arizona, the place I’d originally come to because of a fling, became the ground where I finally planted roots. The place where I learned how to show up—not just for others, but for me.

What I Know Now (That I Wish I Knew Then)

We don’t change because someone tells us we should. We change because something inside us starts to believe, however faintly, that we’re capable of more.

The catch is: You have to stop bullshitting yourself first.

That means:

Calling out the voice in your head that wants to keep you small.

Sitting in discomfort without escaping.

Letting people in, even when it feels like exposure.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. Most people don’t. But you do need to get honest about where you’re at, and what that place is costing you.

Sometimes rock bottom isn’t a single event. It’s the accumulation of tiny self-abandonments that pile up until there’s barely any of you left.

For Anyone in the Thick of It

If you’re reading this in the middle of your own mess, I won’t throw platitudes at you. Life isn’t a Hallmark movie, and recovery isn’t a montage.

But here’s what I can offer:

You’re not broken. You’re buried.

There’s still a version of you under the pain, the denial, the self-sabotage. And that version doesn’t need to be created from scratch; it just needs to be remembered.

You don’t need a plan. You need a moment. One honest, gut-level moment where you stop running. That’s enough to start.

And yes, it’ll be uncomfortable. But growth always is.

See more posts

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.

Utilities from New York to Ontario use flywheel farms to stabilize the grid when wind and solar fluctuate. In space, satellites use flywheel “reaction wheels” to orient themselves without fuel. Even race cars like Porsche hybrids have used flywheels for rapid energy recovery and boost. This is proven tech, now scaling to the grid.

The post A Torus flywheel in the desert and a $200 Million Utah deal to reshape the grid appeared first on Green Prophet.

Peapod wine (get the recipe here) often associated with the classic British sitcom The Good Life, where the characters Tom and Barbara Good make and drink a potent “peapod burgundy”. 

In the age of craft cocktails and artisan spirits, urban foraging and making the most out of the least, one unlikely throw-back is quietly making a comeback: peapod wine.

Once a humble “country wine” born out of thrift during hard times, it’s now being re-discovered for its simplicity, novelty and sustainable roots. The process involves simmering fresh green pea pods, discarding the pods themselves and fermenting the resulting infusion with sugar, grape concentrate (or raisins), yeast and other minimal additives.

Historically, peapod wine was born in rural kitchens where the shelling of peas left behind abundant pods and no desire to waste them. Rather than compost or discard, enterprising home brewers turned them into a light-bodied table wine. Vintage articles describe it as an old-school countryside favourite, and “a fine example of country wine thrift.”

The flavour profile is reportedly crisp, clean and surprisingly refined, with little trace of vegetal “pea” taste. Essentially, the fermentation and added grape concentrate mask the pod flavour, yielding a light dry white wine.

What’s driving the comeback? Sustainability. Up-cycling kitchen leftovers, minimising waste and making something homemade with basic ingredients resonates strongly with modern home-brewers and eco-aware drinkers. The DIY movement in fermentation (from kombucha to natural wines made from honey, even! ) has opened the door to recipes like this.

Also, the story and novelty add value: a wine made from what most would toss sparks conversation at dinner parties, tastings and small local producers seeking niche markets.

That said, it’s not without challenges: sourcing enough pea pods in the right season, ensuring sanitary fermentation, that they are organic, and ageing time (many recipes suggest several months to a year before optimal clarity and flavour). If the pods are healthy and young, I’d probably just eat them raw.

But for those willing to experiment, peapod wine offers a bridge between heritage, sustainability and craft. It’s a reminder that innovation sometimes means looking backward — to what humble home-makers did when times were tough.

We have the peapod wine recipe here.

The post Pea pod wine recipes are making a comeback with allotment gardeners appeared first on Green Prophet.