If hubris could power a solar farm, Mike Cannon-Brookes could single-handedly keep the eastern seaboard lit until 2080.
Australia’s favourite green-vested billionaire has spent years trying to save the planet — mostly from people who aren’t billionaires.
With his man-bun, his Patagonia wardrobe, and his public commitment to “net zero by brunch”, Cannon-Brookes has become the closest thing Australia has to a tech messiah… if the messiah drove a Tesla Plaid and lectured you about your electricity bill from a $25 million harbourside compound.
Saint Mike of the Spreadsheet
Cannon-Brookes talks about climate action the way evangelists talk about salvation — only with more charts.
He doesn’t just want to decarbonise the grid; he wants to own it.
When he bought into AGL, he called it “a bold step for the future.”
Everyone else called it “a billionaire playing SimCity with real power plants.”
He says he’s fighting for the planet, but you can’t help noticing how often “the planet” and “the portfolio” seem to overlap.
The Gospel According to Mike
- Blessed are the shareholders, for they shall inherit the feed-in tariff.
- Thou shalt not question the billionaire who quotes Greta by day and Goldman by night.
- Let he who is without coal cast the first tweet.
It’s a religion of renewables — the Church of the Eternal Solar Subsidy — and Brother Mike is both high priest and market maker.
The Accidental Aristocrat
Every time Mike tweets about inequality, another barista in Sydney bursts into flames.
He insists billionaires shouldn’t exist — right before expanding his empire into yet another sustainability start-up.
When he says “we need to disrupt the system,” he really means: we need a system where I’m in charge.
He’s the sort of guy who could make you feel guilty for boiling the kettle while his office server farm chews through enough energy to resurrect the dinosaurs.
AGL: The Green Takeover That Wasn’t
Remember when Mike tried to buy AGL and “green it up”?
That went about as well as a vegan sausage sizzle at Bunnings.
He withdrew, claimed victory anyway, and still walked away looking like the hero who almost saved the climate — if only the evil board had let him.
It was less a corporate raid, more a performative TED Talk with share options.
From Atlassian to Atlantis
Cannon-Brookes wants to decarbonise everything — except, apparently, his own ego.
Atlassian now funds everything from battery start-ups to “re-greening” projects that look suspiciously like PR firms in disguise.
If he ever builds a rocket, it won’t go to Mars — it’ll orbit Canberra until someone passes a renewable-energy subsidy worth chasing.
The Hollow Centre Verdict
Mike Cannon-Brookes is what happens when idealism discovers compound interest.
He’s not evil — just efficiently good-looking in spreadsheets.
For every solar panel he funds, he powers another think-piece about why we need billionaires to save us from the billionaires.
Australia doesn’t need another saviour in an open-necked shirt.
It needs politicians with courage, engineers with funding, and maybe — just maybe — a billionaire willing to shut up and plug something in.
By The Hollow Centre
