 ‘All politics is personal.’ (Mark Shields) Today I, an English person, went to an event in Germany for one of Ireland’s most senior court judges who had represented the EU as an observer at Hungary’s general election this week. The election itself had turned into high-stakes saga with widespread concerns about external interference, including from Russia, and internal political corruption. In a high-profile visit, JD Vance from the USA had worked hard to drum up support for Trump’s favoured candidate whilst (ironically) complaining about alleged attempts by the EU to influence a different outcome. The Hungarian election, like so many situations in the world today, had turned into a tense geopolitical drama that looked like a tangled mess. When I introduced myself today to a representative of the Irish consulate, they smiled until I mentioned I’m from England, then I saw a subtle shift in their expression. When I spoke with a representative from the USA, they too chatted in a relaxed way at first, but then looked awkward when I mentioned where I’m from. ‘I like UK people’, they whispered, ‘but not their politics.’ Geopolitics – up close and personal.
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 ‘As long as I keep it real, I learn something from everyone.’ (José Álvaro Osorio Balvin) I had an eye-opening experience this week of encountering, for the first time, a young man (Rico) from Suriname during a meeting in Germany. I have to confess that the name Suriname was familiar but I couldn’t mentally place the country on a map. I’ve learned since that it’s the smallest country, by territory and by population, in South America. It also has the highest proportion (90%) of rainforest cover of any country in the world, and its national language is Dutch. That latter point intrigued me. I had wrongly assumed that the formal national languages spoken in South America are either Spanish or Portuguese (alongside numerous indigenous languages). It turns out that, in some countries, English and French are national languages too, along with co-official languages such as Guarani, Quechua, Aymara, Mapudungun and Wayuunaiki. That was a discovery and I guess it shows it’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks. I also heard this week, for the first time, of a recent phenomenon known as armchair tourism: ‘the act of exploring, experiencing and learning about foreign destinations, cultures or attractions from the comfort of one's home. It involves consuming travel content via media like documentaries, books, webcams or virtual reality and cooking and tasting local food, to gain knowledge or enjoyment without physical travel.’ It's shadow of the real thing but, hey: 'Suriname, here I come!'  ‘The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little.’ (Franklin D. Roosevelt) This coming Saturday, on a small island in the Philippines, Alijah’s parents will hold a simple ceremony to give thanks for her short yet beautiful life. In spite of her significant physical disabilities, Alijah was a bright-spirited young woman: always full of hope and always full of life. She had a wild sense of humour, never complained and studied really hard to do well in her exams. What started out as a cough last week turned out to be pneumonia. Alijah was just 19. Alijah’s parents, who loved her deeply, were too poor to afford the £50 vaccine. That upsets me.  English translation of a short talk I delivered at a Prayers for Peace meeting in Germany this evening: As many of you will know, Martin Luther King was a Baptist minister, civil rights leader and peace activist in the USA. He believed passionately that Jesus Christ provides us with an ethical vision for human relationships characterised by love, justice and peace. He also believed that Mahatma Gandhi in India provided us with a blueprint for how to outwork this in practice at national and international levels. At the heart of Martin Luther King’s approach, like that of Gandhi before him, was the principle of nonviolence. This was very different to passivity, acceptance or inaction. It called for active and determined resistance against oppression, injustice and war. At the same time, it sought to win over the other side and not to defeat them. This means that we should only use peaceful methods and should never retaliate. We can see how this idea is rooted deeply in Biblical teaching. For instance (as we looked at recently), Jesus tells us to love our enemies. Paul tells us that if our enemies are hungry, to feed them and if they are thirsty, to give them something to drink. He tells us to overcome evil with good and that, by treating our enemies in the same way that God treats us – with love, compassion and forgiveness – it may evoke a change of heart. It’s a stark contrast to so much of what we see in the world today. For instance, social media often polarises opinions and very quickly divides the world into ‘us’ – those who are like us and agree with us – and ‘them’ – those who aren’t and don’t. We may believe we are good and right, and those on the other side are bad and wrong. Once we begin to see the world in this way, it’s only a short step until we start to regard others as the ‘enemy’. We see the same happening on the world stage too. Nations and geopolitical power blocs are asserting themselves against others, and the ‘others’ are rapidly strengthening their stances in response. This is leading to increasingly aggressive posturing, self-interested trade wars and the most expensive and terrifying arms race we have seen since the height of the cold war. It’s the absolute opposite of what Jesus calls us to do. When mutual grievances, resentments and pain become entrenched over time – such as those between Israel and Palestine, USA and Iran or Russia and Ukraine – it gets harder and harder for each side to imagine the other side’s experience and point of view – and harder still to feel any sense of empathy for them. Each blames the other for their own suffering and sees the other as the enemy that must pay the price, or be destroyed. Martin Luther King saw this in his own personal struggle as a black person. At first, he viewed white people as the enemy but began to realise that to see and treat someone in this way diminishes our own humanity as well as theirs. So, he chose nonviolence instead, believing that white people needed to be released from the dehumanising effects of oppression as well as black people. He prayed for ‘strength to love’. As we pray this evening for people caught up in conflict and war, I hope we can pray with compassion for people on all sides – that they will be released from all hate, hurt and revenge. It’s not easy…yet I believe God can do far more than we can ask or imagine. Let us pray for ourselves too, to find the strength to forgive anyone who has caused us stress, anxiety or pain – even when reconciliation feels impossible. As Martin Luther King so insightfully observed, ‘Our own liberation is bound up with theirs.’  ‘Above all, try something.’ (Franklin D. Roosevelt) Trilemma is a new word for me. It means to face a situation where we must decide between three desirable (or undesirable) and mutually-exclusive options. Some call it an ‘impossible trinity’ where, at most, we can (or must) choose only two of the three options and, thereby, must (at least from that perspective) give up on the third. I sometimes see this when working with Christian leaders who feel caught in an ambiguous ethical choice between, say, exercising personal agency vs showing respect to others vs trusting God to act. ‘Should I seize the initiative (agency)…or wait first to see what actions others may take (respect)…or pray instead to see what God will do (trust)?’ Ignatius of Loyola offered some partial advice to help resolve this: ‘Pray as if everything depends on God – and act as if everything depends on you.’ Oliver Cromwell offered similar guidance to his troops when crossing a river to face an enemy: ‘Trust God – and keep you (gun)powder dry.’ I wonder if a tetralemma may be a useful tool here too. Future Learn published an interesting, practical case example of a trilemma when discussing the potential trade-offs of policy goals to address drugs, peace and development. It demonstrates an interdependence of sorts between intersecting issues, so that addressing one or two may have unintended consequences for the third. When have you faced a trilemma? What did you do to resolve it?  ‘Your brand is your culture.’ (Tony Hsieh) I’ve worked on a couple of fascinating brand projects. The first was with an international Christian NGO that aimed to develop its employer brand proposition. The inspiring leader of the project held the view that brand is the external expression of an organisation’s culture, and culture is the internal expression of the organisation’s brand. This critical insight helped ensure congruence, so that that the organisation’s external face mirrored its internal lived reality. The second was with a national UK charity with international reach. Its well-established brand had become outdated and, over time, key stakeholders began to feed back that the organisation’s communications were too formal and bureaucratic. It conveyed relational distance that felt out of synch with contemporary trends in, say, social media. The project involved a complete overhaul of the charity’s tone of voice, along with the culture that lay behind it. In both cases, people found the metaphor of brand-and-culture as organisational personality useful. ‘If the organisation were a person and you were to meet them in the street, what would strike you about them? How would you feel? How would you respond?’ This helped make abstract concepts feel more accessible and led to visioning conversations such as, ‘What do we want to be more like, more of the time?’, and ‘What would need to happen for that to happen?’  ‘Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is an adequate perception of the world.’ (Hans Margolius) There are many different ways to ground ourselves. It's a bit like anchoring myself so that I don’t lose my footing completely when buffeted by the winds and waves of life. It enables me to flex and flow adaptively and resiliently without snapping. Jesus Christ in the Bible contrasts building a house on rock vs a house on sand. It’s a vivid metaphor that illustrates a similar principle. Some people find rituals grounding. I like to start the day by having a shower to wake up, then light a candle, then sit quietly and listen contemplatively to, say, Pange Lingua Gloriosi or Jesu Dulcis Memoria. It feels like making space to breathe, to reach gently towards God, to feel his Presence within and around me. It’s a kind of prayer that calms, opens and enables me to pray. Before any kind of interaction at work – whether an email, phone call, meeting, coaching session or training event, I try to set aside time to focus and to ground myself in three core practices: prayer, presence and participation. It helps me to enter the spiritual state I hope for and, at best, to handle whatever happens from a relationally-rooted rather than reactive place. I do still get knocked sideways from time to time, especially if something happens out of the blue that clashes deeply with my own values or evokes anxiety or stress. The call for me in such situations is to return to grounding myself in God. Other methods I find helpful include focused breathing, riding a motorcycle, wandering in nature or walking with the poor. What helps you? Do you want help with grounding yourself? Get in touch!  ‘If coaching is truly a learning partnership, nowhere is the partnership more important than when coaching across differences.’ (Karen Curnow) I’m indebted to Stephen German for a stimulating conversation about how to frame first coaching conversations when working cross-culturally. This style of contracting considers how cultures might interact and helps both parties reach clarity and agreement from the outset. As a starting point: ‘To make sure this partnership works well, I’d like to spend a few minutes talking through how we will work together. Since we come from different cultural backgrounds, I don't want to assume my usual way of coaching is the most helpful for you. Does that sound okay?’ 1. Non-directive ‘In my training, I’m taught to ask questions rather than give answers so that you can find solutions that fit your own challenges. However, in some cultures, a coach is seen more like a teacher who gives direct advice. How do you see my role? Do you want me primarily to offer you questions, or are there times you’ll expect me to share my own insights and ideas too?’ 2. Hierarchy (and ‘face’) ‘I want to create a space where you feel safe to be completely honest. If I ask a question that doesn’t land well, or if you disagree with an observation I make, how will I know? Is it easy for you to tell me directly, or should we find a specific way to check in on how the session is going?’ 3. Feedback ‘People handle feedback differently. Some prefer it very direct and to the point, while others find that rude and prefer a more gentle, indirect approach. Where do you sit on that scale? For example, if I notice an assumption or inconsistency in what you're saying, how would you like me to point it out?’ 4. Group vs individual ‘When we set goals, I usually focus on what you want. But I know that for many, the needs of their family or team are just as important. When we talk about big decisions, how far should we consider the hopes and concerns of, and impacts on, the people around you?’ 5. Time and timing 'In my own culture, starting and ending sessions exactly on time is considered very important. In some cultures, however, I'm aware that timekeeping is more flexible and fluid. How would you like us to handle starting and finishing times in a way that works best for you?' 6. Cultural learning ‘Lastly, from time to time, I may inadvertently say something that doesn't translate well or misses a cultural nuance. Would you be willing to let me know if it happens? I’d see that as a huge help in me becoming a better coach for you. Thank you.’ Do you want help with navigating cross-cultural relationships? Get in touch!  ‘Lost in space, and what is it worth, huh? The president just forgot about Earth: spending multi billions, and maybe even trillions, the cost of weapons ran into zillions.’ (Grandmaster Melle Mel & The Furious Five) On the same weekend that Christians around the world celebrated the miracle of life over death in Jesus Christ at Easter, a shot-down US airman was rescued on the ground from the grip of an enraged Iranian regime, hellbent on revenge. In this same weekend, the Artemis II space mission broke a new record for the farthest distance that human beings have travelled from Earth. I found myself wondering if, from that vantage point, the astronauts may be able to spot what alien planet Donald Trump is living on. The self-proclaimed man of peace issued an unhinged statement on social media that said: ‘Open the F****** strait, you crazy b*******, or you’ll be living in Hell – JUST WATCH!’, then signed off with, ‘Praise be to Allah’. It’s hardly a textbook page from 'How to Win Friends and Influence People', and I struggle to imagine that an ideologically-driven, Islamist regime, known for its repressive violence against its own people and its neighbours, would be intimidated by such a threat. Is the US President lost in space? Flash back just 6 months ago, to the Sharm El-Sheikh Peace Summit when world leaders queued up sycophantically to kiss the hand of this so-called peacemaker, standing proudly like a Pharaoh before the lights and the cameras. Or just 3 months ago, when the humble María Corina Machado self-sacrificially handed her Nobel Peace Prize medal to this sulking antihero who hadn’t won, hoping it would win favour for the oppressed people of Venezuela. It was shameful beyond words that he took it from her. And, as it continues, the shockwaves of this regional conflict are reverberating far across the globe. The Philippines was hit yesterday by another earthquake, shaking people’s already fragile lives. It felt hard, scary and symbolic. As a result of this war, those living on the edge of existence face relentless rises in food, energy and fuel prices and are struggling barely to survive. The poor have no reserves, stockpiles or insurance and nothing but their faith to fall back on. It’s appalling. ‘Earth to Trump…come in please..?’  ‘To Christians, Easter marks a miracle so vast as to be indescribable: the entry of the Creator into his own universe, the irruption of the timeless into time, for the purpose of saving the human race by suffering an excruciating death. To non-Christians, the magnitude of that claim seems not so much far-fetched as deranged.’ (Daniel Hannan) I guess that places me squarely among the deranged, firmly in the midst of those who dare to believe. I was inspired by Jasmin’s account this evening of how Christians in the Philippines mark and celebrate the transition from Good Friday (which represents the day on which Jesus was executed) to Easter Sunday (the day on which he was resurrected, i.e. rose back to life). On the Saturday evening in-between, they meet in total darkness (which represents death) to pray and hear readings from the Bible. At midnight, suddenly, they ignite a fire (which represents new life). The fire blazes brightly in the deep darkness and each person lights a candle from its incandescent flames. This creates a profound image and experience of a community of light. This ritual is a dramatic re-enactment of a spiritual transition, not just in Jesus’ experience but in today's experience too. I remember vividly when, at age 21, my own faith suddenly burst into flames. It felt like being filled with a strange energy, a dazzling, blazing light that completely transformed every dimension of my life, purpose and future. Deranged? Maybe. I dare to believe. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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