As the world continues to struggle with the coronavirus pandemic, many people
who have been working on the potential for a shift towards a regenerative
economy are sensing the opportunity for something new and radically
different
to emerge after this crisis — a chance for real systemic change. We are seeing a
growing number of both science-based papers and speculative media articles
looking at the relationship between our destruction of nature and habitats, our
degradation of our environment and the potential for lethal viruses to emerge.
More people are seriously questioning the validity and sustainability of our
business-as-usual model from multiple different angles.
The satellite images of China’s clearing skies as the mighty Chinese
manufacturing machine slowed offer us visible, undeniable indications that a
virus might achieve what the Paris Climate Agreement has not: Drastically slowed
emissions. Cleaner air. The sudden cessation of tourism has changed the colour
of the water in Venice’s canals almost overnight, and brought peace and
quiet in urban environments that would normally teem with tourists or be
overflown by endless aircraft.
At the same time, there is also a surge of energy and conversation about the
‘importance of getting back to normal to secure jobs and
income,’
and criticism and resistance in many quarters about any attempt to consider
changing our existing systems in the face of immediate hardship. In some cases,
such as in Denmark, we are seeing governments start to think about funding
economic survival through delaying their green agenda. There is a real risk that
the retreat towards populism will find new endorsement in an extended audience
pulsing with a newfound understanding of our systemic vulnerability.
As individuals, we’re also experiencing multiple concurrent responses to the
crisis, which confuse and further un-nerve us. We are oscillating between fear
and
uncertainty,
the urgent prompt to act; the rise of compassion and love, and also a need to
cocoon and wait it out. These responses are reflections of how we function as
human beings.
Everyone reacts differently in a crisis. Some leap into action, some sit in
denial, some are filled with an outpouring of love of their fellow beings. These
are, fundamentally, all coping mechanisms for the same thing, which is at its
root a deep sense of fear and loss of control. We are lizard, lion and lamb all
at the same time.
Our ‘lizard’ response — the deep, primeval, fight-or-flight response to threat
and fear — drives all of us to focus on short-term survival challenges.
Governments are battling to keep their economies alive. People are resorting to
stockpiling toilet roll and food essentials. Some people need to have arguments,
lashing out on social media at anyone who doesn’t agree with their view of
what’s happening. We feel an urgent need to retreat and retrench into anything
that is known and familiar. We want to believe that governments can function,
control and save us; so we suddenly and irrationally give support to leaders we
might have marched against in other circumstances — we resist and strike out at
anyone who suggests that now is the time to think about change and the future,
because all we want is a guarantee that we will survive.
There is the rational, action-and-solution-seeking response that comes from
emotional detachment and is typical of planners and strategists like me, who are
already focused on the long-term potential for change. We’re chasing patterns
and imagining what comes next. For governments and organisations, that’s
scenario
planning
for how to address not only the virus in the future, but also how to respond to
a changed economy. For regenerative business
practitioners,
that’s finding ways to see emergent potential in this unprecedented opportunity
without being insensitive to freeze, fear and grief.
There is also fear’s opposite — our deepest human emotional response to love and
care for one another, which is activating an outpouring of compassion and
community spirit. All over the world support groups are popping up to care for
the more vulnerable in society. The kind of community cohesion, support offered
to strangers and kindness that emerges in crisis situations is like nothing else
you will ever experience. What seemed like vital disagreements melt away, at
least for a while. Love for your friends and family, care for others, are what
will get you through this.
It is also triggering a curious need to cocoon as we are being called to be
still. To be silent. To stop. To just be present in the moment, and allow
ourselves space and time to adjust to a new reality. Do things slowly,
mindfully; be present just from moment to moment. Some people can burst forth
into immediate action, most of us really need to sit in the pause and give
ourselves a moment to gather the shattered pieces of the illusion of security
and safety before we can move. To rest together with loved ones, with nature, in
silence and contemplation. This is the bottom of Otto Scharmer’s Theory U
curve.
We all have all these responses to a greater or lesser degree. We're all
managing all three and there is validity in all three. I find myself
oscillating on an hourly basis between the tension of sensing an urgent need to
seize the opportunity of coronavirus to truly activate systemic change, a wish
not to seem insensitive to real grief and need, and a desire to just stop and
watch Spring unfolding before my eyes.
We’re currently in the worst stage of the crisis. We’re in the moment when
everyone collectively realises the severity of what we are facing. A colleague
in crisis communications compared it to the moment at the top of the
rollercoaster when we all look down: Your insides turn over, but it doesn’t last
— you take the plunge at high speed; but in time the plunge smoothes out, and
things find a new normal and a new rhythm. As we emerge from this crisis, we
will emerge into a different life. We will have had a wake-up call of monumental
proportions. For some people it will be a much harder, harsher reality. But for
us collectively as a species, there is the potential — just over the horizon —
for a fresh start.
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Jenny is a creative strategist and trusted advisor working with organisations that are accelerating a shift from sustainability to regenerative strategies. She uses collective learning processes to help organisations develop innovative sustainability strategies, theories for change, and supporting strategic narratives. She is CEO of We Activate The Future, a strategy and narrative development consultancy.
Published Mar 25, 2020 2pm EDT / 11am PDT / 6pm GMT / 7pm CET