 ‘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 strange 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..?’
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 ‘Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.’ (Dr Seuss) Looking online this evening, I found myself browsing for the Palestinian Christian hospital where I worked with children and teenagers with disabilities in 1982. Much to my amazement, I found a very old photo of the hospital itself and one of the actual staff team I worked with. Vivid memories immediately came flooding back – the people, the sights, the sounds, the smells. This was during a previous Israeli invasion of Lebanon and I remember us watching the long column of tanks and other military vehicles rolling over the border on TV. The hospital was near Jerusalem in a small village called Bethany or, in Arabic, al-Azariya (‘the place of Lazarus’). I didn’t realise it back then but it was a significant place for Jesus during his earthly lifetime too. Looking at the photos, I find myself wondering: what happened to all those people in the picture? The man in the back row in the middle with a moustache was a very serious figure, and my boss. The man in the middle row at the far left, also with a moustache, showed me great kindness – and cried when I left. As war rages on again, I can only fear and hope for them – and pray.  ‘Globalisation has obliterated distance, not just physically but also, most dangerously, mentally. It creates the illusion of intimacy when, in fact, the mental distances have changed little. It has concertinaed the world without engendering the necessary respect, recognition and tolerance that must accompany it.’ (Martin Jacques) At a Chinese New Year celebration meal last week, I looked around the dinner table at my family: my brother who lived in Brunei, his Malaysian wife, my sister who lived in Germany, her husband who travels the world with work, my niece who lived in Spain, my nephew who also lived in Spain and my Mum who has visited more countries than she can remember. My daughters are internationally-minded too: one taught herself Japanese and the other recently visited Austria. It struck me how much the world has changed in my own lifetime. The ability to communicate and build relationships with people all over the world has never been easier, thanks to advances in technology. International travel has never been easier too, at least for those who have the financial resources and visa permits to do it. Given these opportunities to rub shoulders with our global neighbours, we might expect a ‘one world’ outlook increasingly to predominate. Yet, take a cursory glance across current news headlines and we see an increasingly polarised world, divided along national, political and ideological lines. We see a profound fracturing in the breakdown of the rules-based international order with nationalism on the rise, and within nations where different -isms or -phobias tear at each other in heated culture wars. Perhaps global idealists forgot a deep human desire for distinctive identity, belonging, security – and power?  ‘Today is a day of shame. Shame on the perpetrators on both sides of this terrible conflict who have inflicted unimaginable suffering on civilians. Shame on the world for turning away while Sudan burns. Shame on the countries that continue to add fuel to the fire.’ (Erika Guevara Rosas) Two years to the day since the latest conflict in Sudan broke out with brutal ferocity, the UK and (some) other countries are finally paying attention to the world’s worst humanitarian crisis. It’s a complex picture on the ground with geopolitical and ethnic tensions that create a devastating mix. While the world’s attention has been fixated on Russia-Ukraine and Israel-Gaza, Sudan’s civilian population has suffered horrific atrocities at the hands of merciless armed groups. Conferences are too often a forum for noble speeches, hand-wringing and hand-shaking, virtue signalling on a public stage and, behind it all, a pathetic substitute for tangible action. (It’s as if talking earnestly about an issue makes us appear, believe and feel like we’re actually doing something). In the meantime, the violence continues unabated with no relief whatsoever for vulnerable people on the ground. Today's event must make a difference. Sudan needs action now. What can you do? *Pray for peace and hope in Sudan. *Contact David Lammy, UK Secretary of State for Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Affairs to urge follow-through from this Conference initiative. *Write to your local Member of Parliament (MP) to advocate for urgent and tangible action on relief, security and peace in Sudan.  ‘In the face of impending catastrophe whose warning signs are already unbearably disastrous, weak action is unwise. No action is dangerous.’ (William Ruto) ‘I had only heard about plane accidents on the news, but now I was about to experience one. Interesting, I thought. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the flight attendant announced, oddly calm, like she had done this all the time. ‘We are going to need to prepare for a crash landing. I need you to listen to me very carefully.’’ These are the gripping opening words in Mark Smeby’s book, ‘Losing Control.’ I love his sense of humour in what must have been an utterly terrifying experience. Having just closed those pages this morning whilst on a visit to Germany, my mobile phone beeped with an ominous message: ‘Extreme Danger’. Something about a ‘Warning’ and ending with a word that looked like ‘Catastrophe’. ‘Oh…a scam?’, I thought. Then, a few minutes later, it beeped again. Same message. I looked out of the window. No sign of anything alarming. Should I get up quick and crawl under the table? Turned out to be an annual Bavarian state test signal. It could have been, however, a serious precursor to what did happen next. I flicked on the TV. ‘Today, I’m pleased to make the largest deregulatory announcement in US history.’ Lee Zeldin, Administrator of the now painfully-ironically-named US Environmental Protection Agency. He was proudly declaring, with astonishingly gleeful smile, the reckless actions of a superpower that could accelerate the consignment of all life on earth to the non-existent history books. 3 warnings. 2 turned out OK. The 3rd is a slow-motion crash and burn we may not survive.  ‘Presidential elections are a form of madness that comes over us once every four years.’ (Rebecca Solnit) Observing the 7 weeks old President in news headlines each day often feels like watching a school bully’s behaviour in a playground – or a proverbial bull in a China shop. Perhaps that's what dispensing with any felt need for multilateral relationship or diplomacy looks like. Some cynics argue that, when it came to international relations, ‘relationship’ was always euphemistic anyway: marriages of convenience would have been more appropriate. We're feeling the threat of a divorce. It looks, to me, like a zero-sum game deal-maker on steroids. A fixation on win-lose outcomes is the preserve of the rich and powerful – or a disturbing trait of a sociopathic tendency. I keep hearing ‘transactional not ideological’ to describe this style. It’s a word play, a claim that self-interested pragmatism is somehow a values-free approach, rather than the actions of a leader who appears to believe breach of trust is a price worth paying for unilateral 'greatness'. As I witness the flip-flopping of strategy and policy, the mixed-messaging, the alternative facts, I keep asking myself – is this the work of a negotiating genius; someone who wins the game by disorientating the other players, creating maxim instability and insecurity with the unblinking stare of a poker player… or is it a megalomaniac whose outward actions are a terrifying manifestation of internal chaos? Only time will tell. I hope there’ll be enough of the world left to pick up the pieces.  ‘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.  ‘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.  ‘Jesus - teach us to wait, as we hang in the balance of the past and the possible. Help us to make loving choices, as you did.’ (Thomas Merton) Who could have anticipated it? The Covid lockdown. Russia’s invasion of East Ukraine. 7 October Hamas attack. Ukraine (still) fighting back. Hezbollah decapitated. Free speech clampdown in UK. Iran firing missiles directly at Israel. Donald Trump re-elected in the US. North Korean deployment to Russia. French and German political meltdown. Sudden collapse of the Assad regime. The list goes on. Events appearing as if out of nowhere, taking by surprise. This is a backdrop to a BANI perspective on the world: Brittle, Anxious, Non-Linear and Incomprehensible. It’s not just a way of thinking about what’s happening around us. It’s an existential expression of how it can feel to be in the world. It shatters illusions of predictability and control. Think back at a more personal level – what have been your most significant life experiences over the past year? How many did you know or anticipate in advance? It corresponds, perhaps, to a rise in mental health crises across the world. If we can’t predict or control the future with any degree of certainty, it can leave us feeling anxious, stressed or depressed. After all, anything could come in from anywhere, disrupting our carefully-made plans and throwing everything, including ourselves, in the air – with no idea where it and we may land. Little wonder people are turning to ideologies and leaders that promise ‘security’. Yet so often their assurance is a façade; a delusion wrapped in compelling rhetoric that disguises its own emptiness. How, then, to survive and thrive in this earth-shaking context where threats ranging from climate emergency to nuclear war are real and extreme? I'm trying to follow Jesus’ example here: courage to face truth, prayerfully, head-on and not to hide; compassion to act, prayerfully, in humility and love: one person, issue and moment at a time. How about you?  ‘Hope is being able to see that there is light, despite all of the darkness.’ (Desmond Tutu) A struggle I encounter existentially and in conversations with so many colleagues and clients at the moment is how to hold onto hope. Look at the news headlines and story after story of things going wrong. Not just small things but potentially world-ending things like climate disaster or nuclear war. The sense of overwhelm that this can create, along with a sense of complete powerlessness to change anything on that macro scale, can lead to feelings of deep despair. One option is to turn off the TV and social media news feed. It’s a bit like burying our head in the proverbial sand or sticking our fingers in our ears and singing, ‘La, la, la’. To be honest, on the mental health front, this kind of withdrawal can prove helpful and life-giving, at least for a while. After all, why burn ourselves out mentally, emotionally and physically for things over which we have zero influence anyway? Better, perhaps, to engage in mindfulness. Pause, breathe...relax. Except I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work for me. ‘I can’t close my eyes and make it go away.’ (U2) I’ve had to find a different way, and I’m still trying. German theologian Jürgen Moltmann wrote, ‘Hell is hopelessness.’ The need for hope is buried deep in the human psyche and the human condition. I find hope in Jesus and in taking action in my own small spheres of influence. I’m with Greenpeace on this: ‘The optimism of the action is better than the pessimism of the thought.’ How do you find and hold onto hope? |
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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