Of this cohort, Ludlam was among the four who chose not to recontest his seat, deciding in the days following his resignation that nine years in the Senate had worn him down more than enough, and that ‘there are many other creative ways to make trouble’. One way he has attempted to continue his activism is through his writing, with essays and commentaries in such publications as The Monthly, the Guardian, and Crikey. Engaging with big ideas in playful yet intellectually serious ways, Ludlam has shown himself to be an impressive writer and thinker. These qualities are now also on display in his long-form début, Full Circle: A search for the world that comes next.

It would have been easy for Ludlam to write a conventional political memoir, full of slightly elevated gossip and name-dropping of parliamentary colleagues either admired or detested. These books tend to dominate the headlines for a few days, perhaps a week if they’re especially juicy, sell a few thousand extra copies as a result, and then drift off to their inevitable resting places: the overburdened shelves of the nation’s op shops. Ludlam, in seeming recognition of the worthlessness of such memoirs, has rejected the form. Apart from a brief lament about the shameful vote to repeal the carbon tax in 2014, there is little reminiscing about his time in parliament. What Ludlam has chosen to write is far more ambitious, although his ambition at times detracts from the book’s literary qualities. There is simply too much going on in Full Circle for it to form a cohesive whole.

The giveaway is in the structure. The book is made up of seventy-six short vignettes, most of them three to four pages long. They cover an enormous array of topics and themes, some more successfully than others. Many have the unfortunate feel of unmediated blog posts rather than carefully constructed book chapters. Ludlam is most engaging when he speaks from direct experience, whether about his travels around the world or his many years of riding the highs and lows of activism – the euphoria of unlikely victories against the might of the financial and political establishment, as well as the deflating meetings at which he is the only person to turn up. Less interesting are his diversions into a variety of systems and theories that he thinks might help explain the predicaments we find ourselves in. Ludlam also sprinkles throughout the book his retelling of the deep geological history of Earth, from its formation 4.5 billion years ago to the present. Here he seems to be embracing his inner nerd, but there is little value for readers not expecting a work of popular science. It adds nothing to the general narrative, and contributes to the feeling that the book drags on for about one hundred pages too many.

Full Circle begins with Ludlam facing the brunt of the 2019–20 bushfire crisis from his home on the south coast of New South Wales. He seethes with anger as he describes the political bastardry that has led us to this point. ‘A bloc of transnational resource sector investors,’ he writes, ‘control the ministerial wing of parliament and hold absolute majorities in both chambers. One of our major political parties is wholly owned, the other is divided, traumatised and compliant.’ Ludlam returns to the horrific scenes of the bushfires throughout the book, an effective device that keeps reminding the reader that the climate crisis is playing out just as predicted, despite what the deniers keep trying to tell us. Extremes are becoming commonplace. ‘These are climate fires, with the fingerprints of the resources sector all over them.’

When Prime Minister Scott Morrison finally comes to the realisation that his tone-deaf response to the bushfire crisis is a threat to his prime ministership, his response is to pump out some political advertising and seek donations to … the Liberal Party. ‘Somewhere in my back-brain, a fuse blows,’ writes Ludlam. ‘I’ve never been this angry in my whole life.’ But he doesn’t let this justified contempt for Morrison distract him from the bigger picture: the fact that resources industry plutocrats have gamed our politics, with their minions moving seamlessly between corporate, public service, lobbying, and media roles. As venal as the prime minister is, ‘while we’re watching him, mocking him with spicy memes on social media, we’ve taken our eyes off the people who wrote the legislation he just introduced into the House of Representatives’.

The most enjoyable and enlightening chapters of Full Circle are those in which Ludlam relates stories from his extensive travels abroad. No less than fifteen visits are referred to: Lebanon, Mongolia, India, Brazil, Ghana, South Africa, France, the United Kingdom, Israel–Palestine, Bangladesh, Japan, the United States, Germany, Kenya, and Papua New Guinea. Ludlam uses these trips to effectively contextualise Australia’s political problems, especially with regard to resources. His discussion of Mongolia, which went through an enormous expansion of its mining sector following the collapse of the Soviet Union, is particularly striking. ‘No prime minister has served a full term in Mongolia since 2004,’ he writes. ‘Mining investors publicly destroyed a government over a mining tax, then took ownership of both major political parties. A green insurgency simmers at the margins, its potential as yet unrealised. Rising temperatures and a bruising drought are reshaping landscapes and economies, silently pushing things towards a place of no return.’ Sound familiar?

We are good at self-obsession in Australia – one only has to step back and take a broader view of our handling of Covid-19 to see that. So it’s always useful to be reminded that the challenges we face are not unique, and that Australia is not a singularly flawed or stupid country, as many on the left would have us believe. But confronting the challenges will be impossible if we let the most parasitic and nihilistic elements in our society continue to hold sway. Like his former leader Bob Brown, Scott Ludlam has a remarkable ability to offer hope amid the gloom. His book is a call to arms for those who believe that the world cannot continue to function as it does now.