 ‘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.
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 ‘Capabilities are freedoms conceived as real opportunities.’ (Amartya Sen) I keep coming back to this question: what is it that makes the difference? I’ve been drawn recently to reflections on this theme by Indian economist and philosopher, Amartya Sen. He distinguishes between capabilities, which are our resources (including our abilities and our potential), and conversion factors, which are influences on the real opportunities we have to use and fulfil them. Sen focuses his work on wellbeing and on the kinds of lives people and groups are effectively able to lead. He moves on to questions of what people, groups and societies need. Sen offers some interesting illustrations. Two people have the same resources. One is able-bodied and the other has physical disabilities that confine them to a wheelchair. All else being equal, the able-bodied person has more net resources because the person with disabilities has more related expenses. The former may also have greater net opportunities in society because the latter may be limited to places that are wheelchair-accessible. This could lead us to the conclusion that the person with disabilities should be given more resources to ensure equity. Sen then asks, what if the able-bodied person is hard to please and needs more resources to achieve a sense of wellbeing? What if the person with disabilities is content with their life and needs fewer resources to achieve wellbeing? If the goal is wellbeing, should we therefore provide more resources for the able-bodied person? Sen poses two challenges before we leap to this conclusion: sometimes disadvantaged people lower their expectations as a coping mechanism; and society has a moral imperative to support the disadvantaged and vulnerable. Sen provides another example of a person who owns a bicycle. The bike is a means to an end, to ensure mobility rather than an end in itself. Yet to convert the potential of bike ownership to greater mobility, certain conditions need to be in place. These could include, for instance, the physical ability to ride a bike; a social-cultural context that allows the person to ride a bike; and environmental conditions such as safe roads or suitable bike paths that make using a bike feasible. It’s a combination of capabilities and conversion factors that make this difference. So, what does this look like real situations? As far back as 2003, I wrote a research paper as part of an organisation development (OD) masters’ degree that aimed to identify and address common factors that influence engagement and effectiveness in organisations. I proposed that culture, complexity, capability and climate were critical variables. It’s about releasing and harnessing individual potential on the one hand, whilst creating the conditions in which people thrive on the other. This is, in my view, where coaching, action learning and OD intersect. What do you think?  ‘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.  ‘We've gone through periods of political instability before, and ultimately we've chosen to keep changing…for the better. But every single time, we've only got through those moments because of two things: engaged citizens and principled leaders.’ (Elissa Slotkin) A warning, a mirror, a question. I found US Senator Elissa Slotkin’s response to Donald Trump’s State of the Union address yesterday interesting. Her challenge was a subtle response to the style of the current presidential leadership that appears to dispense with democratic principles, devalue political engagement (including by Congress) and, instead, attempt to rule by decree – signing already over 70 executive orders (far more than any other previous President) in less than 2 months. Perhaps, for Donald Trump, it’s partly about optics, to inspire confidence in his leadership by presenting himself as a man of action, a man who gets things done. I don’t know. What I do know is that acting unilaterally – especially if that is a continual rather than crisis trait – can have very significant downsides. If any leader is so convinced by their own powers of insight and decision-making that they believe they don’t need input from others, they risk self-deception, making uninformed or ill-informed decisions, losing support from those they hope to influence and, ultimately, drowning in the depths of their own hubris. Worse still, if a leader uses their power and position to threaten and silence voices of dissent, they will become a self-blinded dictator surrounded by sycophantic ‘yes’ people. I sometimes imagine what kind of leader I would be, if I had that much wealth and power at my fingertips. It’s easy to point the finger from the keyboard, from across the Atlantic pond if you like but, hey, who knows? Many years ago now as a new leader, I did a psychometric test with a resulting report that said I need to be aware that I could be so convinced by my own intuition that I inadvertently disregard the need for input from others. Eeek…I have a dictator's disposition? Whatever our role or position in life, we do well to heed Lord Acton’s warning: ‘Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’  ‘It isn’t death that frightens us. No, what shocks us is life, and the possibility of life. It is life that terrifies us, and life that makes us speechless.’ (James Koester) Three weeks. Three countries. Three birthdays. One funeral for a man I never knew. I’ve walked through a Nazi concentration camp with its dark history still pressing in like a weight. I’ve knelt at the grave of a special woman I did once know, many years ago, who died too young. I’ve prayed with Ukrainian refugees: their voices silent, who spoke only with tears. I’ve watched an assassination attempt unfold live on TV: chaos, history in motion. In the midst, kindness has found me. Close friends have held me. Strangers have welcomed me. Life goes on. I’ve wandered in snow-covered mountains, stared at ice-lit lakes and let nature remind me: beauty and pain coexist. Henri Nouwen’s Prodigal, the story of a return, has been pulling me closer to God. This journey hasn’t just been about crossing borders – it has also been within. Twists, turns, highs, lows. No map, no script. Just the road ahead. And I keep walking.  ‘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.  ‘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]  ‘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? |
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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