 ‘There are no permanent friends or enemies in international relations, only permanent interests.’ (Henry Kissinger) The third anniversary of Russia’s attack on Ukraine came and went this week with some hints of progress towards an end to the war. A possible deal or sorts, amidst shifting blame, and against the backdrop of disturbing rumours of hidden geopolitical manoeuvrings behind the scenes. It felt hard not to see Ukraine as trapped in the middle – a David now caught between two Goliaths as one friend put it – seemingly powerless at the hands of bigger, crushing and grabbing forces. In the middle of the mess, we saw the UK straddling two horses – with its Prime Minister in thin disguise asserting himself as the new leader of Europe (another land grab, of sorts, while his German and French counterparts were floundering in political chaos); whilst also sacrificing the poor in the world to the insatiable god of war in a bid to win approval of the world’s new President. I felt sick as I watched the news, seeing a leader sell his nation's soul for political expediency. I wondered what I might do if I were in his position of power and responsibility. I hope better, and I fear worse. I was brought back down to earth on Wednesday evening at a weekly ‘Prayers for Peace’ event in a cold church building in Germany. A group of ten German people – with I as a visiting Engländer – stood in prayerful solidarity with a group of twenty shy-looking Ukrainian women and children. Each held a candle and some cried with tears of pain and hope. I felt like crying too.
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 ‘One of the truest tests of integrity is its blunt refusal to be compromised.’ (Chinua Achebe) My struggle at the moment is just trying to make sense of the world. Like Rick James’ opening words in a webinar on the future of humanitarian work, ‘There’s so much I don’t understand.’ And then there’s the important question of deciding what to do. On the same day that I visited a former Nazi concentration camp this week, where the infamous propaganda film ‘Triumph of the Will’ (a chilling celebration of Hitler’s personal power) came to mind, I received an email from my own coach, Sue, with a recommendation for a book called ‘The Surrender Experiment’. Now there’s a polarity. At one extreme, the determined power of the will to force reality to bend and comply with whatever we want. At the other, to stop pushing and let go, go with the flow, and be responsive to whatever emerges. Sue asked what I notice about the spectrum. I said, 'The extremes are most visible to me.’ Perhaps that’s a life trait too. Sue asked where, if anywhere, I would place myself on that spectrum. I felt an immediate resistance to placing myself in the middle, as if the middle represents a place of compromise, which feels too much like compromise-d. It’s something about finding a different stance, a third position that somehow captures the best of the extremes, without the worst, and doesn’t settle for the lowest common denominator in the middle. The power of the will is an important factor in choice theory and personal agency. It’s that sense that I can change things, even if not everything, if I commit myself to it. There’s also wisdom in being open to the present; for me, a kind of prayerful responsiveness and agility. Beena Sharma likens navigating the creative tensions in a polarity to a dance. A very apt metaphor.  ‘We don’t see things as they are – we see them as we are.’ (Anaïs Nin) Social constructionism is a way looking at how we construe reality to help us make sense of it. The ‘we’ is important here because it’s not just what I do but what we do, what others around us do and what others before us have done. If I haven’t lost you already, imagine seeing a person hand someone else a bunch of flowers. Neuroscience can shed little or no light on understanding this event. That’s because the meaning of giving someone flowers is socially-constructed – that is, it’s something we attribute to the act within a specific culture and context, rather than something that is inherent to the act per se. In my own UK culture, giving a person flowers could mean, for instance: a gesture of romantic love; or of thanks and appreciation; or to celebrate a special occasion; or a token of apology; or a wish for someone who is sick that they’ll get well soon; or a sign of empathy if someone has died. In some cultures or contexts, it could signify wealth (e.g. ‘I have enough money to buy you to a gift’) or imply a request for a response (e.g. ‘Will you marry me?’). Types, colours and numbers of flowers convey different meanings in different cultures too. So, social constructionism: a way of making sense of human sense-making.  'We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself.' (Dietrich Bonhoeffer) At a time when much of the democratic West is shifting politically to the right, I had a very harrowing experience today – visiting Konzentrationslager Flossenbürg, a former Nazi concentration camp in southern Germany. Despite dedicating much of my adult life to trying to prevent the conditions that allow such destructive ideologies to take hold, nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming weight of such a place. Standing before the memorial stones, each marked with a different flag, I read the staggering numbers – lists of people from various countries who were shot, hanged and burned within its barbed wire walls. I felt again an indescribable horror at the sheer brutality of the Nazi regime. A hard question haunted me: ‘How on earth did things get this bad?’ And equally disturbingly, ‘How is it that we, as humans, are capable of such evil?’ Because this isn’t just history and it isn’t just about them. It’s about us and now. This evening, back in my room, I turned on the TV news. More headlines about the growing success of the AfD in Germany – then Starmer appeasing MAGA Trump by increasing UK weapons spending, whilst deftly slashing the foreign aid budget. (He clearly misunderstood Robin Hood as a child). Rising nationalism. 'Us first' ethnocentrism. Crackdowns on free speech. Preparations for war. Does any of this sound familiar?  ‘Voting is irrational. Emotions always win.’ (Eyal Winter) Yesterday, I had a conversation with Alicia, a young German student with an interest in psychology. We reflected on current world events, including the resurgence of Donald Trump in the U.S. and the unfolding German election results. One question puzzled us: Why do so many people support political leaders and parties whose policies and behaviour seem irrational? Take Trump, for example. His use of ‘alternative facts’ doesn’t seem to shake his supporters' confidence. Similarly, politicians on the far left or right offer simplistic solutions to complex problems, yet their followers remain unwavering. Meanwhile, centrist politicians who present nuanced arguments in measured tones often struggle to gain traction. Instead of persuading people, they are met with boredom or disdain. Why is that? Here’s a thought: Many people today feel hopeless when they look at the state of the world and the challenges in their own lives too. Traditional politicians speak to the mind with carefully-crafted words, yet those who feel lost or frustrated are voting from the heart. Perhaps it’s not about what populist leaders think or say. It’s about how they make people feel.  ‘Do not get too close to the leading aircraft. Do not get below the leading aircraft’s flight path. Be particularly wary when light wind conditions exist.’ (Civil Aviation Authority, NZ) Seat belts on. Buckle up. We could be in for a rough ride. Caught in wake turbulence, with a change of President in the cockpit and the USA veering off in a new direction, much of the rest of the world is struggling, suddenly and desperately, to regain stability: a sense of safety, security and control. A brace position is an instinctive human response: curled up in foetus position with head down and eyes closed tight, hoping or praying to survive. A crash landing can hurt. We may wish we’d paid for a seat in the exit row. Look now and see some world actors tipping their caps with feigned enthusiasm and rushing around frantically, shouting ‘Yes sir, no sir, three bags full, sir’; trying hard to win approval, make all the right noises and to do all the right things to please or placate the self-proclaimed King. It may well mean sacrificing long-held beliefs, values, principles and relationships but, hey – pragmatism over idealism. The end justifies the means. Sell your soul if the price is high enough and the risks and rewards seem worthwhile. Others, a minority, are speaking from the shadows in muted tones and attempting, in acts of sometimes naïve yet heroic-sounding bravery, to hold a shaken position. They work hard to look confident, to speak with sincere conviction from moral high ground, but anxiety shows its face through the look in their eyes, their wringing hands or their clenched fists. Straining nerves to hold onto hope, they cling to the remnants of an unexpectedly-redundant paradigm, resisting the urge to give up and get on board with a dominating new. One final group have closed their eyes, put their fingers in their ears, and are singing gently but happily from the sidelines, ‘La, la, la.’ It reveals a belief that, if they keep quiet and keep their heads below the parapet for long enough, it will all pass by. Sooner or later, everything will settle down again. It’s the mark of the optimist who doesn’t want to be troubled by an inconvenient truth. They ignore the dismantling of democracy hidden in plain sight and appear completely immune to the geopolitical drama unfolding before them. Each reaction represents, in essence, a defensive routine – flight, fight or freeze – in the face a perceived threat: a daunting future marked by anxiety and uncertainty. To react is, by definition, to follow. It’s what we do when someone, or something, has seized the initiative or taken it from us. What we need now is humble and courageous leadership; people who will bring hopeful vision, whose behaviour is rooted in ethical values and who are not seduced, buffeted or derailed by opportunistic possibilities or a gathering storm.  ‘Life is the continuing intervention of the inexplicable.’ (Erwin Chargaff) I caught a glimpse of it in my rear view mirror. I remember it vividly. A white Luton box van. I was riding a Honda 550K3 motorcycle, equipped with large white fairing and panniers that made it highly visible. Heading up Highgate Hill in London – a dead straight and steep road where, incidentally, Karl Marx is buried – the van approached. I was doing (confession) 40mph in a 30mph speed limit when, suddenly, the Luton slammed into me from behind with massive impact. The rear of the bike pierced the front of the van and I was thrown violently over the handlebars, landing some distance away. It took 5 police officers to dislodge the twisted bike from the wreck. This memory came to mind this morning when reading Henri Nouwen’s book, ‘The Return of the Prodigal Son’. He mentioned in the Prologue that, in 1983, he did an exhausting trip in the United States, calling on Christian communities to do anything they possibly could to prevent violence and war in Central America. By strange coincidence, at around that same time that I was travelling around the UK with exactly that same goal in mind, although not restricted to faith-based groups. I was engaged in political and human rights activism – and that's when this episode happened. I had just featured in the front cover photo of a campaign magazine, at the lead of a demonstration. The crash: was it a hit? The romantic would-be hero part of me would like to think so – but we'll never know for sure. The police measured the skid marks on the road and estimated the Luton had hit me at c70mph. They found it incredible that such a vehicle could reach that speed on that hill and, furthermore, impossible to imagine that the driver hadn't seen me. To add to the mystery, the driver had given a false name and address. The whole incident was regarded as ‘suspicious and inexplicable.’ I sustained serious back injuries and it took a year to be able to stand again, yet the outcome of this experience opened up a whole new chapter in my life. That’s another story.  ‘Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going.’ (Jim Ryuh) I was surprisingly relieved to get a not-entirely surprising blood test result last year. It revealed that I was ‘prediabetic’ – that is, not actually diabetic, but heading in that direction. Relieved because it confirmed what I had already been wondering; relieved that I hadn’t (yet) crossed the diabetic threshold; and relieved because I knew it would take stark news like that to shake me up enough to break a habit. In the 6 months or so leading up to the test, I was increasingly aware of eating too many sweet foods – I mean, who can turn down a slice of chocolate cake from the fridge – but I wasn’t really doing anything to change it. A good friend was on a public health prediabetes programme and they inspired me to join a similar course. The next day, electronic weigh scales and a cookbook were delivered to my door. I discovered through guided self-examination that I was eating too many foods with added sugar; too many carbohydrates that have a similar effect in the blood; too much fruit all at the same time; not enough protein; and not enough green stuff. Oh, and not enough full-fat Greek yoghurt (weird!). I wasn’t doing enough physical exercise and my sleep patterns were chaotic at best. Apart from that… So, knowing that I’m not great at doing anything in moderation, I made immediate and radical changes to my diet; started a regular routine of speed-walking using a simple tracking app; and made some – but not yet enough – changes to my sleep routine. With the support of a motivating weekly online weigh-in, I lost 6.5kg in 2 months – something I’d wanted to do for many years but had never quite managed it. I’ve noticed again through this experience how psychological factors make such a difference and, therefore, how self-awareness is so important. For instance, I know that I find focus on goals and rewards (e.g. weight loss) helpful, to sustain a reason for persisting with a new habit when I’m tempted to compromise; I know I’m better at doing something wholeheartedly (some would say extreme) than in balance, so it made sense to replace all the food in my cupboards and fridge, rather than tell myself I could eat sweet stuff occasionally; I know that, when I slip up from time to time, I have to avoid falling into an ‘all is lost’ self-narrative, because that would provide me with a perfect (and pathetic) excuse to give up. So, that’s me. When have you broken an old habit and formed a new one? How did you do it?  ‘Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.’ (Franz Kafka) It felt painful to find myself nodding in agreement with some of the things J.D. Vance said at the Munich Security Conference last week. Painful to hear such a stinging critique of freedom of expression from a representative of a President that publicly and shamelessly hunts down his own opponents. Painful to hear the announcement of what sounded like the heralding of a potential ending of a special relationship (ironic, perhaps, on Valentines Day). Painful to see the shock and surprise of European leaders caught so off guard by such an entirely predictable US stance. Painful most of all, however, was the reality and truth in Vance's assertion that the biggest threat to Western democracy isn’t foreign aggression from outside, but the erosion of free speech from within. The UK is leading the charge in policing thought, with others in Europe following close behind. Although some of the finer details in Vance’s speech were to be rightly challenged by fact-checking, the thrust of his argument calls for careful and urgent consideration; not the defensive denials we witnessed from hurt leaders wringing their hands, as if misunderstood. [Are you concerned about defending free speech? See: Free Speech Union; Alumni for Free Speech]  ‘It’s about recognizing the spark of greatness even in moments of darkness – and nurturing it to light the way forward.’ (Dr Wayne Dyer) Coaching has been described as ‘the art of the obvious’ – helping clients recognise what is hidden in plain sight. Coaches use various techniques to bring these insights to the surface such as asking thought-provoking questions, mirroring language and gestures, or engaging clients in physical experiments. A shift in awareness often provides the focus, energy and momentum needed for meaningful change. Coaching in action: Lisa’s fear of presentations Lisa, a new manager, says she feels scared of giving presentations. She feels sick and tries to avoid them. Someone may pose direct questions like:
While these could be useful, deeper exploration may be needed. Different coaching approaches offer varied pathways for insight and growth. Here are some examples, drawing on my own studies, training and practice in diverse psychological fields: Solutions-focused
Strengths-based
Cognitive
Psychodynamic
Neurolinguistic
Gestalt-somatic
Existential
Spiritual
Critical
Behavioural
Conclusion Different coaching approaches provide unique lenses through which clients can explore and address their challenges. The key is finding the method that best aligns with the clients' needs and interests, and unlocks awareness, confidence and action for meaningful growth. Would you be interested to work with a coach? Get in touch! |
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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