During the opening of the circular year 2025, Hanna Sixma and Albert van der Ploeg took the stage. Why is this so special?
Each of them shared their personal perspective on what ‘circularity’ means and why achieving it is so important.
Hanna represents the younger generation—and with it, the future. She is 16 years old, from Akkrum in Friesland, and currently in her fifth year of gymnasium at Beyers Naudé in Leeuwarden.
Albert brings the wisdom and experience of the older generation. As a former alderman of the municipality of Dongeradeel and still actively involved in agricultural nature management, he knows the field like no other. He shared insights into the developments he has witnessed and how circularity is a key factor in building a sustainable future.
Hanna’s Story
One of the definitions the Dutch dictionary Dikke van Dale gives for the word ‘sustainability’ is ‘long-lasting.’ In my view, sustainability means something can endure because it is treated with care and attention. It is something ever-present around us, like a continuous cycle. Sustainability can also work as a reward: the more effort you put into something, the more you get in return—from your relationship with your neighbors to the condition of your bike in the shed.
This brings us to the second definition: resistant to wear or decay. In any case, sustainability is about taking care of the things that matter so they can last a long time.
However, it is more complicated than it seems. Why is it so difficult sometimes to talk about sustainability? Perhaps it has something to do with the third definition in Dikke van Dale: minimally harmful to the environment. For me, this addition does not change the meaning of sustainability. I know the environment is important, and I take it for granted that we should put effort into protecting it.
But here lies the challenge. Many people do not consider the environment important enough to act sustainably. Intense protests and heated debates on TV have led to negative associations with the environment and sustainability.
I noticed this firsthand over a year ago when discussing elections with my classmates. To my surprise, many of them did not think the environment was important, and most could hardly explain why. This prompted me to seek information about climate change myself.
I began to understand where the resistance to sustainability came from: the problem seemed unsolvable, and those who cared about it were throwing tomato soup at paintings or blocking highways. There seemed to be no tangible meaning or solution to environmental issues in everyday life.
News in the Classroom to Beyers at Sea
Meanwhile, my school participated in a competition called News in the Classroom. I wrote an article about sustainability, describing how frustrating it felt to worry about climate change without any support from classmates or teachers actively engaged in the topic. In my letter, I argued that everyone should know what climate change is and how we can address it. I found it strange that we learn about history in school but barely discuss complex current issues like climate change. I also missed the opportunity to develop and reflect on essential skills like collaboration, critical thinking, and creativity—skills necessary to tackle problems like climate change.
I was one of the winners of the competition, and my article was published in the Friesch Dagblad. It received positive responses, and I was even invited to the climate studio on NPO Radio 1.
This led me to start a project on ‘future-oriented education’—exploring what is needed to achieve it. As part of this, I participated in SPARK the Movement’s hackathon, visited schools, and joined Sealab with Firda, now called Expedition at Sea.
During Expedition at Sea, students sail the Wadden Sea for a week, learning about nature along the way.
Sealab had something I missed in school. Being in nature allowed me to see the importance of sustainability firsthand and connect knowledge to practice. For example, on Terschelling, we visited the Jutfabriek, where beach waste is collected and recycled.
Inspired by Sealab, I am now working with Firda to create something similar for my own school: Beyers at Sea.
With Beyers at Sea, I hope to bring a piece of future-focused education to my school. It will be a different way of learning—an adventure where students explore and learn from the perspective of the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals.
The Rainmaker
I hope Beyers at Sea helps young people feel the importance of sustainability so that we can make a difference together. It reminds me of a story, The Rainmaker. This is a retelling of an old tale about a forest fire. While all the animals flee, a small bird named Olla tries to put out the fire. She flies back and forth to a pond, carrying drops of water to the flames. The other animals think she is foolish, but she keeps going. Eventually, some animals start to admire her efforts and join in. Together, they create a massive rainstorm that finally extinguishes the fire.
Face, Free, Feed
You are probably familiar with the terms fight, flight, freeze—they describe how we react to stress. One common reaction to the word ‘sustainability’ is flight—running away as fast as possible and pretending the problem does not exist (just like the animals in the forest). I sometimes have this reaction myself when I try to avoid thinking about the problems caused by climate change.
According to The Rainmaker’s author, Kees Klomp, we need to replace these fear-based reactions with face, free, and feed. Face represents the little bird that dares to acknowledge the painful reality. Klomp writes: “You can only change what you recognize. You can only extinguish the fire if you get close enough.”
Regarding the second reaction, free, Klomp explains that sustainability thinking consists of two narratives: the THEY story and the I story. The THEY story involves blaming others and shifting responsibility, while the I story is the belief that you alone must take full responsibility for a sustainable world. If we free ourselves from these fixed narratives, we can create a new one: the WE story. I will return to this later.
The final reaction is feed: seeing what everyone sees but doing what no one else does. This does not mean fighting against the old system but rather manifesting and building the new one.
These new reactions may make sustainable living sound simple, but I still find it difficult. For example, I still eat meat, even though I know I shouldn’t. I think this is because, as I mentioned earlier, there is still a taboo around sustainability. Not everyone engages with it, and many people are stuck in the flight reaction or the I or THEY story. Sometimes, this makes it feel like the environmental problem does not even exist.
Even though I know I am not perfect, I try to change and inspire others to make it rain.
A crucial first step, in my opinion, is replacing fear-based reactions and daring to acknowledge climate issues. Judging others—the THEY story—makes sustainability seem like an individual effort. I believe it should not be a competition over who lives the most sustainably or eats the least meat. It should be about the collective—about everyone contributing in their own way.
Sealab had something I missed in school. Being in nature allowed me to witness the importance of sustainability firsthand and connect knowledge to real-life practice. On Terschelling, for example, we visited the Jutfabriek, where beach waste is collected and recycled.
If we become aware of these small changes, we can make it rain together, making the path to a sustainable world easier. With Beyers at Sea, I am trying to do my part. Everyone here today is doing the same, which is why I am happy to be here. And just like that, a small impact today can grow into a larger one over time—until, ten years from now, it becomes a massive rainstorm.
Albert’s Story
It is very important to look back, but also to look ahead. To pause and reflect on what you want and what you can do.
When I look back on my life, I ask myself: where do I come from? I have been working for over forty years. I come from the clay, a farmer’s son—that is my life. The meadow birds, being close to nature. Magnificent! The smell of manure, absolutely wonderful! I enjoy that. But how did it all go?
I was a good student. In the environment I grew up in, you were expected to make use of that. That’s why I went to Wageningen in ’73. Farming, even though I loved it, was not meant for me. I tried, though. In ’83, I returned home, but at Wageningen, I had already learned that there are limits to growth—and that is true. In ’84, for example, the super levy was introduced. Its purpose was to limit milk production. I ran a farm with my brother for four years. But then I thought: it is good to carve out your own path. I had learned a lot, and maybe I could pass that knowledge on to others. That is how I ended up at the secondary agricultural school. Here, I guided students through my acquired knowledge, but I also taught them about things that were going wrong.
We encountered limits, such as acid rain. How could that be? What were we doing wrong? I had to get involved. Sometimes you have to speak up and enter politics. What solutions are there? How can we restore balance? It is incredibly valuable to engage with these questions—it opens up a whole new world. It connects politics and education, allowing us to see what we can achieve together. Again, balance came into play—what can farmers do? How can they apply fertilizer differently? How can they handle manure in a better way? We tackled those questions. I was involved in the foundation of the National Landscape Noardlike Fryske Wâlden. It was incredible to work with the agricultural sector to find that balance. And in politics, you can take it even further—because new challenges always arise.
If we look at Noardeast-Fryslân and the Centrale As highway, that was a politically charged issue. After all, this road cuts right through nature. But on the other hand, we managed to accomplish something with businesses. The Centrale As is a special road—just as much money was invested in the surrounding environment as in the road itself: improving village accessibility, investing in nature. And I think, we achieved that together with the business sector. A new group was formed—the Friends of the Centrale As.
In politics, everything moves in waves. Since the 1980s, there was NOFA and ANNO, and now there is the Regiodeal. Municipalities also break apart, but if they want to accomplish something, you have to be involved. We are in an unsettled time right now, and in such moments, the business sector can be a source of inspiration. Don’t wait. If the government sets a course, you must ride along with it. Looking at the future, at everything that still needs to be done, we see enormous challenges ahead.
I work in agriculture, and I see the nitrogen issue. It is a vast web, but when I go back to the basics, I see where things are going wrong. Then you have to say: what doesn’t go in, doesn’t come out. We need to redesign agriculture in an entirely new way. We should grow crops where possible—food we can eat directly, without animals in between. That is an easy win. Then, place livestock such as cows and sheep only where grass grows naturally. Pigs and chickens can be used to consume food waste that we don’t want or can’t eat. That would already take us a long way.
We humans are the weak link in the circular system. Everything we flush down the toilet never comes back. But there are promising projects like “Spoordok” in Leeuwarden and Sneek, which focus on closing the mineral cycle. That is a great initiative. But if we want to keep this world livable and sustainable, we must place humans at the center of the cycle.
That is why I am so happy with Circulair Friesland. We often focus on materials, but we also need to examine our role in the cycle. Then we can make real progress. When I look at the world and its challenges, I sometimes think: we don’t have the wisdom yet, and things are going wrong. But when I look at the small successes and what Hanna has shared today, I know we must keep going.
One of my greatest inspirations is Theo Mulder, who says, “Everything comes from the ground, and everything must return to it.” And Cees from Wetsus says, “Humans are not a plague.” Sometimes I think, Cees, you are completely wrong. But when I sit here with all of you, I realize: Cees is right. Together, we can do this.
I am at the end of my career, though I will still be involved with the Veenweidegebied in Friesland. At home, we have a small, beautiful farm where I can continue to engage with nature and the landscape. If we want to make a difference—both as individuals and as businesses—then balance is essential. We must occasionally look back at what we have achieved. And we must seek out others who can help us because, yes, alone, you can do nothing. Alone, you may go faster, but together, you are stronger. Be proud of what we are doing together—and keep going!
”It giet der om dat wy mei syn allen goeie foarâlders binne.”
(It’s about all of us being good ancestors – translated from Frisian language)