‘It is not enough to say, 'We must not wage war.' It is necessary to love peace and sacrifice for it. We must concentrate not merely on the negative expulsion of war, but the positive affirmation of peace.’ (Martin Luther King)

Armistice Day is a poignant moment to reflect on the end of the ‘war to end all wars’ – which, in spite of such terrible suffering and optimistic hope, didn’t end war. I will share some reflections here, drawing on critical conversations this month with lifelong peace activist, Rudi Weinzierl, in Germany.

Tension and conflict between countries and between state- and non-state actors is certainly on the increase. We aren’t (…some would say yet…) experiencing anything on the scale of the global World Wars of the 20th century – although the devastating impacts of current wars can feel like it locally – yet conflicts of various types are now taking place in the form of territorial disputes, proxy wars, economic coercion and cyber warfare. Here are some reasons why:

1.  Shift in global power balance

Emerging multipolar world: The global power landscape is no longer dominated by a single superpower. While the United States was the dominant global force in the latter part of the 20th century, in the 21st century other nations (most notably China and Russia) have increased their economic, military and geopolitical influence. This shift creates new friction as the established power and rising powers compete for regional dominance and influence.

Rising nationalism: Nationalist movements around the world have gained traction (including in liberal U.S., Europe and Scandinavia), often leading countries to adopt more polarised and assertive foreign policies, or policies towards foreigners within their own borders, to showcase strength and independence to their own domestic audiences and to other parties abroad. This can fuel aggressive rhetoric, civil tensions, military build-ups and territorial disputes.

2.  The dark side of human nature

Inherent human-social tendency: The human condition includes the potential for good and evil – although the meaning of these terms as socially-constructed (and associated ‘rights’ and ‘wrongs’) has moved away from absolutes. Attempts to understand and explain (and sometimes change) human behaviour have focused on nature vs nurture, and now neuroscience and genetic disposition. Whatever the origin, we see so much evidence of the ‘human tendency to f*** things up’ and, at times, sheer self-defeating craziness.

Political and media influence: Increasingly polarised and polemical rhetoric by politicians and in mainstream/social media often tap into the darker side of human nature. Social media lacks the formal, traditional accountability mechanisms that have governed, or at least influenced, mainstream media in national democracies until fairly recently. This leaves individuals, groups and whole societies open to influence by lies (fake news) and cynical manipulation.

3.  Territorial disputes and national identity

Historical grievances: Many countries and non-state actors have unresolved historical disputes over borders, territories and sovereignty. Issues like the status of the West Bank and Gaza, East Ukraine and Crimea, Taiwan, the South China Sea and the Kashmir region are all flashpoints where historical grievances add fuel to geopolitical tension and rivalry.

Protection of cultural and political influence: Some states view certain regions as essential to their cultural identity or political influence. China’s stance on Taiwan or Israeli/Palestinians’ competing claims on the West Bank, for instance, reflect not only territorial claims but also a deeply-embedded aspect of national identity and sovereignty.

4.  Economic competition and trade conflicts

Resource scarcity: Growing populations and rising consumption (fuelled by a near-universal belief that continual economic growth and material wealth are self-evidently good) create increased demand for resources including oil, minerals and fresh water. Disputes over access to these resources – often involving countries with overlapping claims like those in the South China Sea or DRC – can result in or risk escalating into militarised conflicts.

Trade wars and economic sanctions: Economic tensions, particularly between large economies like the U.S. (especially under its new president-elect) and China (with its relentless drive for expansion), can exacerbate hostility. Trade wars, tariffs and sanctions are used as tools of political influence but they can also create a hostile environment where countries and blocs (e.g. U.S., China, EU, BRICS) view each other as adversaries rather than trading partners.

5.  Arms race and military modernization

Increased ‘defence’ spending: Many nations (especially since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine) are investing ever-more heavily in their military capabilities; including nuclear arsenals, advanced weaponry and missile technology. This arms race enhances the global arms industry's profits, power and influence, and creates a sense of insecurity as competing countries or blocs feel insecure, threatened or pressured to keep up with or surpass their rivals.

New types of weapons: Development of new types of warfare technology such as drones, hypersonic missiles and AI-driven systems creates uncertainty. These technologies may also lower the threshold for engaging in conflict as often they don’t require putting troops on the ground or risking as many human lives, making military interventions seem less costly.

6.  Proxy wars and regional conflicts

Proxy warfare: Powerful countries often avoid direct confrontation by supporting opposing factions in other nations' conflicts. For instance, the Syrian civil war which saw involvement from the U.S., Russia, Turkey and Iran, each backing different factions; and Iran’s sponsorship of Hezbollah, Hamas and Houthis. Such conflicts can spiral, impacting global stability while remaining below the threshold of a formal, direct war between the major powers themselves.

Regional instability: Conflicts can occur in regions with weak governance, where external powers may intervene to protect their own interests or allies. This has been common in the Middle East, North and Central Africa and parts of Asia where conflicts over resources, religious and ethnic divisions and political instability invite foreign involvement. It is also leading to new alliances, for example the emerging Russia-China-Iran-North Korea axis.

7.  Technological warfare and cyber threats

Cyber warfare: In the digital age, countries and non-state actors increasingly target one another through cyber means. Cyberattacks aim to, for instance, disrupt infrastructure, steal intellectual property and influence public opinion. The clandestine nature of cyber warfare allows parties to escalate tensions without direct, visible confrontation; creating a background sense of constant threat and conflict.

Information warfare: Social media and other digital platforms allow states and non-state actors to interfere in other nations' politics. Propaganda and misinformation, exacerbated by use of AI (for example, deep fake) and hacking can destabilize and create mistrust between countries.

8.  Weakening of international institutions

Decline in influence of global institutions: International organizations like the UN, WTO, NATO and EU face challenges that limit their ability to prevent conflict. Rising nationalism and populist sentiment in many countries have led to scepticism of international bodies, weakening their capacity to mediate disputes and enforce peace.

Erosion of global norms: Norms that were once established and broadly-accepted internationally, such as respect for territorial sovereignty or non-interference in other countries’ affairs, have weakened in recent years. This erosion of norms can embolden countries to act unilaterally without fearing major diplomatic or economic consequences.

9.  Climate change and environmental stressors

Resource-driven conflict: Climate change effects have increased competition for natural resources, leading to conflict over land, water and food. Areas affected by severe droughts, floods or sea-level rise can create new waves of migration. The resulting population movements can contribute to tensions within and between countries and blocs too.

Strain on fragile states: Fragile states are particularly vulnerable to climate-related stressors which can destabilize governments, lead to civil tensions and conflict and create vacuums that foreign powers might exploit, either for resources or their own strategic advantage.

Can these trends be reversed?

While the causes are complex, we believe several steps could help to reduce international tensions and violence. (Having said that, we don’t see any evidence of leadership globally pointing in these directions at present; and we struggle to see how, as individuals, we can exert any influence whatsoever to change this):

New models of leadership: Leaders who value and model prayerful humility over arrogant posturing; mutual good over national self-interest; long-term sustainable goals over short-term expedient action; peace and justice for all over exploitation at others’ expense.

Strengthening diplomacy and conflict-resolution mechanisms: Diplomatic channels and innovative conflict resolution processes could be reinforced, with renewed global cooperation to address issues peacefully and collectively.

Building economic interdependence: Economic partnerships that foster interdependence could help reduce the likelihood of conflict. Countries deeply invested in trade and mutual economic gain may be less inclined to disrupt those benefits through violence.

Global action on climate change: Addressing climate change collaboratively can reduce resource-driven tensions. Initiatives focused on sustainable development, renewable energy and climate adaptation in vulnerable regions could mitigate some of the pressures that contribute to inter-state tension and violence.

Regulation of cyber and information warfare: Establishing global norms and treaties to regulate cyber activities and disinformation could help curb the impact of technology-driven conflict.

What do you think?

‘The first essential component of social justice is adequate food for all people.’ (Norman Borlaug)

For long enough, we had an excuse. We couldn’t see the world, except through black and white pictures in newspapers or, for those with sufficient wealth or other means, by international travel. With the arrival of the internet, however, that distant world has come to us. We can now see the poor directly, if we are willing to see, and if we can resist closing our eyes for just long enough to catch a true glimpse.

The images on screen can leave us shocked, cold or confused. A temptation is to withdraw, to shift our gaze and attention elsewhere, or to find and create ways to justify how things are and, in doing that, to attempt to absolve ourselves too. If we look for too long, we may start to look critically at our own world and view our own lives differently, and that can feel deeply unsettling, unnerving and anxiety-provoking.

Easier, perhaps, to tell ourselves something like this: ‘The poor are happy.’ ‘They don’t know any different.’ ‘They wouldn’t like it here.’ ‘Poverty is not having any money to worry about!’ We can try to justify ourselves too: ‘They’re poor because they don’t work as hard as we do.’ ‘I’m not rich. My wealth and lifestyle are normal in this country.’ Or the most cynical rationalisation of all: ‘Jesus said the poor will always be with you.’

In UK history, in rural communities, a successful harvest – or not – meant quite literally the difference between life and death. Yet there are still so many in the world who live on that sharp edge. Climate change with resulting drought or floods is forcing people into abject poverty or to flee. War and conflict are doing the same. People in such situations need help. We can change our own priorities and do something.

We can pray in the spirit of Jesus who said, whatever you do for the poor, 'you do for me.’ We can advocate on behalf of the vulnerable, e.g. write to your MP. We can provide relief for those who are destitute; e.g. give to a disaster appeal. We can support development efforts to build sustainable livelihoods; e.g. join or support an international charity. We can help address economic justice, e.g. buy Fair Trade.

Bottom line: 'Live simply, so that others can simply live.’ (Mahatma Gandhi)

‘What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. When you are immune to opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.’ (Don Miguel Ruiz)

It is, perhaps, one of the most limiting influences on personal growth and damaging influences on interpersonal relationships. A friend once described it graphically as being like carrying a data projector on one’s shoulder, then projecting images of the things we most dislike about ourselves – without being aware that we’re doing it – onto another person. The resulting impact is that we may well see and criticise those things in another, as if they are attributes of that person, rather than face, acknowledge and address them in ourselves.

On the receiving end of projection, it can feel bizarre, like someone is superimposing intentions, attitudes or behaviour onto us that just don’t fit, resonate or ring true. If we challenge or push back, the projecting person is likely to become defensive. Projection is, after all, a way of denying, avoiding or suppressing things that could cause pain or anxiety. I had this experience recently in a disagreement on social media when I asked, genuinely: ‘Are you aware of doing the same thing – here and now – that you say I’m doing?’ They blocked me.

Was my question a defended response? It’s a tricky question. How can we know, in the moment, whether we are projecting onto another person or, perhaps, in denial when we reject another’s feedback as projection? It is possible, for instance, that a person is projecting onto us, and yet there is a grain of truth and justification in what they are seeing and saying. It’s also possible that a person could, conversely, idealise us, projecting admirable qualities that they find difficult personally or culturally to acknowledge in themselves. It’s complex.

Here are some tips I find useful. Firstly, if I find myself critical of a person, group, issue or action, I try to imagine myself standing in front of a mirror. What could my criticisms reveal about me – e.g. my values, attitudes or instinctive behaviours? Could the other party equally and justifiably level the same criticisms at me? Secondly, if I find another expressing criticism of me, I try to ask myself honestly: how far does this reflect what I know about myself and feedback I’ve received from others? Could there be truth in this from which I can learn?

‘You could start a fight in an empty room, mate.’ (Allan Jones)

I’ve never sought conflict. Far from it. I much prefer harmony and peace. That said, however, I can’t escape a similar calling to that which Martin Luther King once heard: ‘Stand up for righteousness! Stand up for justice! Stand up for truth!’ It’s a call that burns deeply inside of me and has done, as far as I can remember it, for my entire life. I’m pained to admit that I haven’t always followed that voice anywhere near as courageously as MLK. I haven’t always handled it with his astonishing humility and love. I’ve stayed silent when I should have spoken up or spoken up when I should have stayed silent. My words have stumbled out clumsily. I’ve caused pain where I meant to bring healing and hope.

Yet, at times, this vocational stance has proved authentic, valuable and worthwhile. In my 30s, I worked for a large UK charity in the health and social care sector. As an idealistic young radical, I challenged the leadership team on numerous occasions when I believed we were compromising our values. I tried to do this with prayer and humility and out of a genuine desire to build relationship and trust. On one occasion, the leadership team decided, in view of limited budget, to increase only senior leadership salaries until it had secured sufficient funding to increase frontline staff salaries too. I argued vociferously that we should do the exact opposite – and to freeze my own salary as a first step.

On another occasion, the leadership team decided to reserve all spaces in its small head office car park for executives only, given that they didn’t have time to drive around to look for parking places elsewhere. I advocated passionately that, especially in the winter months, the spaces should be reserved for female and other vulnerable staff or visitors so that they wouldn’t have to walk along dark city streets at night to their cars. On yet another occasion, the leadership team recruited a ‘hatchet man’ on temporary contract to implement a tough restructure with associated redundancies. I protested that this blunt way of approaching the change would damage relationships, engagement and trust.

At times, I imagined my challenges and counter-proposals were met with deafening silence or heavy sighs – especially as I wasn’t a senior leader at the time. Nevertheless, when a serious crisis broke out between the leadership team and entire middle management, both sides to the conflict invited me to mediate as ‘the only person they could trust’. The chief executive, a man of remarkable humility, took me into his confidence and treated me like a respected thought-partner. When I moved on, the company secretary wrote to me to say he had never encountered such integrity. Even the dreaded ‘hatchet man’ wrote that he wouldn’t hesitate to employ me alongside him in any future role.

Pray with humility – take a stance – speak the truth in love.

‘For me, revolution simply means radical change.’ (Aung San Suu Kyi)

I heard a well-known pop psychologist on the radio this week, talking about his new book about how to make your New Year’s resolutions stick. He invited the listeners to buy his book in order to learn more. I didn’t do that, but it did bring to mind a number of things I’ve noticed over the years as I work with people, teams and organisations. I will share a couple of insights here that may be of interest and useful – and I promise not to ask you to buy anything.

The first is how hard it can be to make significant and sustainable changes to habitual patterns of thought and-or behaviour. A wise friend, Ian Henderson, illustrates this simply by inviting people to fold their arms. Next, he invites them to fold their arms in the opposite direction. (I found this harder than I had imagined). He goes on to invite them to reflect on what routine they always use to dry themselves after a shower. We are creatures of habit.

That’s OK when the routines serve us and-or others well. If, however, people become trapped in, for instance, patterns of tension or stress, if often demands more than fresh thinking, determined effort or will-power to change it. So, here’s the second. Try disrupting the physical context in which it takes place; for instance: meet in a different room or location; use different chairs; sit in different places to where you normally sit; stand up rather than sit down.

I worked with a team that felt trapped in conflict. They invited me to help them work through it so I asked that we hold our first meeting where and at the time at which they normally met. When we did so, I asked them where they normally sit, including in relation to each other. (‘Exactly where we are now’). At the next meeting, I changed the time and, before participants arrived, rearranged the room completely, then invited them to sit somewhere different.

The shift in group dynamics was remarkable. Disrupting the times and room configuration created enough of a change to enable the team to hold a different spirit, style and type of conversation. This, in turn, helped team members to relax enough to consider and create new possibilities. It released the stuck-ness and enabled a breakthrough of sorts that wouldn’t have been possible by thinking or talking alone. (Like this idea? Look out for my new book…)

​You arrange to meet with a colleague and, on the afternoon of the appointment, she neither turns up nor cancels it. It can feel disappointing or frustrating, especially if you had spent ages preparing for it, or had rescheduled other things to make room for her in your diary. There may be, of course, all kinds of extenuating circumstances that had prevented her from arriving or letting you know. We could imagine, for instance, that her car had broken down on route, or that she had got stuck in traffic in an area with no mobile phone signal. She might have been held up in another meeting that overran and from which, for whatever reason, she had felt unable to excuse herself.

Feelings of hurt or resentment can arise, however, if we allow ourselves to infer deeper meaning and significance from the no show. This can be especially so if it forms part of a wider and repeated pattern of experiences. Could it be, for instance, that her unexpected absence (again) is revealing a subtle and subliminal message such as, ‘Spending time on A is more important to me than spending time with you on B.’ Or, beneath that, ‘I believe my work on A is more important than your work on B’. Or deeper and worse still, perhaps, ‘I’m more important than you.’ The latter could well leave us feeling devalued and disrespected and, if unresolved, damage the relationship itself.

I worked with one leader, Mike, who modelled remarkable countercultural behaviour in this respect. If Mike were in a meeting that looked like it may need to overrun, he would: (a) pause the meeting briefly (irrespective of how ‘senior’ or ‘important’ the person was whom he was with); (b) speak with whomever he was due to meet with next (irrespective of how ‘junior’ or ‘unimportant’ that person was); (c) check if it would be OK with them to start their meeting later or, if needed, to defer it; and (d) take personal responsibility to resolve any implications that may arise from that rescheduling. Needless to say, Mike’s integrity and respect earned him huge loyalty, admiration and trust.

When have you seen great models of personal leadership? How do you deal with a no show?

‘When the bombs were falling like rain, Jennie stayed here with us.’

As a leader in international NGO, Tearfund, Jennie had always struck me as a quiet and unassuming person. We visited community rebuilding initiatives together in Lebanon just after the harsh and brutal civil war. Amidst shattered buildings, lives broken by sectarian conflict, aerial bombardment of the Beirut power station (just as we arrived) and Syrian ‘peacekeeping’ troops everywhere, we met with Christian leaders who recounted countless stories of heartache and hope.

One of the things that struck me most was their deep reverence and respect for Jennie. Whenever she spoke, they listened with profound attention. Curious about this, I asked one of the leaders about it afterwards. He replied, ‘During the war, most NGOs withdrew because it became too dangerous for them to stay. Jennie was different. She refused to abandon us. When the bombs were falling like rain and we had nowhere else to run to or hide, Jennie stayed here with us.’

I felt completely speechless, humbled and amazed. I imagined myself in that same situation: how I would almost certainly have fled for my own safety – and have found or created very good reasons to justify myself for doing so. Yet what an impact now. The leadership and influence that Jennie was able to bring to this work by having been-with; not based on any hierarchical status, power or authority she held, but on a deep and incarnational, presence, relationship and trust.

'To err is human. To blame it on someone else shows great management potential.'

That made me laugh! It’s a fun variation of Hubert H. Humprey’s, ‘To err is human. To blame someone else is politics.’ But wow – how easy it is to deflect and project our own faults and failures outwards onto others. We see it happen all over the place, from interpersonal relationships to international relations. It’s a way of defending ourselves; of trying to avoid or escape the costs of responsibility; of promoting ourselves; of appearing innocent or superior. It’s about helping us to feel good about ourselves and-or wanting someone else to feel good about us.

It's quite tricky if we don’t know we’re doing it – and it can lead to potential high-risk consequences. ‘Self-deception is like this. It blinds us to the true causes of problems, and once we’re blind, all the solutions we can think of will actually make matters worse.’ (Arbinger Institute: Leadership and Self-Deception, 2000). This poses a difficult question: how to deal with our blindness if we don’t know we’re blind? And what if, if we’re honest – for whatever reason – we don’t want to know? An old adage goes: ‘There are none so blind as those that won’t see.’ Ignorance is bliss?

I’ll start with the last question first. If I’m working with a person in coaching or a group in action learning and I sense resistance in this area, I won’t push too hard. It could, for instance, trigger repressed trauma or suppressed anxiety. Instead, I may pose an invitation, e.g. ‘Is this something you would find useful to explore further? What, for you, would be the potential benefits of exploring this, or the potential costs of not exploring it? If you were to explore this, what support or challenge would you need from yourself, me and-or others?’ It’s their call, their choice.

Next to the first question. This touches on a field known as critical reflexivity. It’s like holding up a mirror to ourselves rather than fixing our gaze elsewhere or onto others. We can think of it as something like this: ‘What within me – e.g. in my own past, culture or world – is influencing what I’m thinking, feeling and doing now?’ This could include, for instance, our beliefs, values, hopes, fears and expectations. It could also include hidden vested interests; that is, things we want to protect or preserve and-or to acquire or achieve. Such influences act as subconscious filters.

In coaching and action learning, I work with people and groups to help them learn to pose searching questions to themselves in a spirit of open curiosity and discovery, e.g. ‘Who or what is holding my attention in this relationship or situation? How am I feeling? Who or what am I not-noticing? What assumptions am I making? How is my past influencing my present? Who or what matters most to me now? How might I be evoking this response in the other party? What am I willing to take responsibility for? What do I want or need? ​What am I willing to stop, start, change or compromise?’

The outcomes and benefits of this approach can be truly transformational. It calls for humility, courage, authenticity and a willingness to exercise personal leadership and agency, yet can open up all kinds of fresh possibilities – and hope. Imagine, for instance, to approach an adversary, prayerfully, in the midst of conflict: 'We are in such a mess. I'm sorry...and, as I look at how we got here, I could have handled my part in this better...' It’s a stark contrast to avoidance, accusation and finger-pointing. What a possibility to co-create a different relationship – and a different future.

(See also: Spots; Art of Deception; Stealth)

Turn on the TV and you will see heart-breaking scenes of streams of desperate people, frightened, shell-shocked and displaced by war, fleeing within Ukraine or escaping across crowded borders into neighbouring countries. It’s a tragic and all-too-familiar scene. Not that long ago, we witnessed similar images of dispossessed and traumatised people, at that time clinging together in crowded boats or walking on long roads, trying to reach safety away from the ravages of a brutal war in Syria.

It's tempting, in such circumstances, to compare and contrast. Why, for instance, is Poland throwing its doors wide open to Ukrainian refugees whereas it was decidedly reluctant to do so for Syrian refugees? Is this evidence of endemic racism? It is because Ukrainians are white, because they ‘look like us?’ – as more than one TV reporter asked this week. These are important questions... and they also risk pitching one set of refugees against another, as if competing for empathy and support.

I’ve had the personal privilege of working in the UK alongside asylum-seekers and refugees from countries as diverse as Afghanistan, China, Congo, Egypt, El Salvador, Eritrea, Honduras, Iran, Iraq, Kurdistan, Mali, Mexico, Somalia, Sudan, Syria, Turkey, Vietnam and Yemen. Up-close, every person is unique, has a name, and carries his or her own lived experience, his or her own individual story. Step back, and we can discern patterns shaped by e.g. culture, history, language, narrative and geopolitics.

In some significant respects, I believe European public discourse concerning the Ukrainian refugee situation is different to that in 2015. Geopolitical factors include: Ukraine borders directly with Europe, vs Syria lays at a geographical distance; Ukraine is perceived primarily as an invasion by a foreign power, vs Syria was viewed primarily as a civil war; Ukraine is perceived in simple terms as a ‘hero’ against a ‘villain’, vs Syria was perceived as a complex conflict between multiple ‘villains’.

Cultural factors include: Ukrainian refugees are perceived as culturally- and pro-European, vs asylum-seekers in 2015 who came from a diverse range of countries and cultures – often perceived as hostile to European liberal values and cultures; Ukrainian refugees are primarily women and children and, therefore, considered most-vulnerable and least-threatening, vs asylum-seekers in 2015 were perceived as primarily men and, therefore, considered least-vulnerable and most-threatening.
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If we are willing to pause and reflect openly, honestly and critically, we can see that the stance we take reveals all kinds of underlying personal and cultural beliefs, values, assumptions and biases – including whom we consider worthy, or not, and why. The media plays a very powerful role since most of what we believe and think we know about asylum-seekers and refugees is mediated via media. The ‘news’ is a blend of info and drama, with an agenda. Let’s not fan the flames of a refugee war.

(For further reading in this area, see: Alexander Betts & Paul Collier, Refuge: Transforming a Broken Refugee System (2018))

‘Truth is the first casualty of war, they say. In fact, it’s more often freedom and reason.’ (Brendan O’Neill)

I was wrong. I didn’t imagine that Russia would actually launch a full-scale assault on Ukraine. I felt sick, shocked and dismayed as the news unfolded this week. I can only imagine how it must feel for Ukrainians to find their country under attack and for Russians to discover their country has started a war. I felt near-despair too as I listened to rhetoric in the UK Parliament and media in the immediate wake of the invasion, denouncing neo-fascist Russian nationalism and imperialism whilst, at the same time, silencing any voices of dissent here with words like ‘appeasement’ and ‘treason’.

There are insights from various psychological fields that can help us, yet we know from arenas such as cognitive and human givens therapies that our receptivity and ability to reason is impacted profoundly when overwhelmed by feeling. Emotions like anger, resentment and fear are running high at the moment; and understandably so because this crisis and all that it could mean are very real and being experienced by real people, families and communities here-and-now – and that makes it hard to think clearly. Yet we must think, and pray, and act with wisdom, and quickly.

I can only guess what’s in Putin’s mind. The geopolitical dimensions to this conflict are complex and well beyond my ability to know or understand. I can, however, speak as a citizen or the West. I spent many years working closely with an anti-Nazi activist in Germany. I learned that we need to pay very careful attention to the conditions in which otherwise insane decisions will appear and feel rational. Hitler and the Nazis were supported and elected in Germany by many with great enthusiasm against a specific contextual backdrop: in Gestalt psychology, the ‘ground’ that gives rise to a ‘figure’.

The ’ground’ out of which the current crisis has developed is very complex indeed. It includes: a long cultural history in Russia of autocratic leadership; the brutal and devastating Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union from (geographically) the West; a loss of Russian power and self-esteem following the collapse of the Soviet Union; the subsequent expansion of the NATO military alliance eastwards towards Russia’s borders; the expansion of the EU economic block eastwards to (potentially) incorporate Ukraine; a corresponding and growing sense of vulnerability and resentment in Russia.

Does this suggest that the West has somehow caused the war in Ukraine? No. Correlation of these factors does not mean causation. Putin has made his own decisions. Does it suggest that the West has contributed to creating the conditions under which Putin’s decision became more likely? That’s a question I believe, in the midst of our justifiable outrage at Russia’s unjustifiable actions, we would do well to consider with prayer, humility and critical reflexivity. We stand at the edge of a dangerous precipice and, to move forward, we need very different thinking to that which brought us here.