When disruptions hit us, or our
family, organization or country, our reactions tend to be negative: we get
frustrated, panicky-anxious, discouraged and resentful as we quickly realize
that old solutions are useless, known shortcuts are impracticable and normal
advancement is partially or totally blocked. So we see ourselves thrown in what
we perceive as strange new mess with little (if at all) experience to rely on,
facing an uncharted mountainous terrain. Our unpreparedness might be just part
of the picture as we soon notice the clumsy movements of the other actors, be them
big or small. Uncertainty kicks in as complex causal chains start to shift
dramatically out of their normal tracks and make educated predictions seemed
closer than ever before to five year olds guessing about nuclear power.
Despite
the undoubtedly negative consequences at all levels (health, economy, policy
making, psychological functioning etc.) that we have to wrestle with,
disruptions have at least two additional side-effects that we shouldn’t pass
over. The first one is related to their capacity to make more transparent (at
least temporarily) the internal, usually hidden, underlying mechanisms that
sustain the disrupted system. By closely following how it was forced to perform
under pressure and in uncertain situations, by watching its crude and
spontaneous reactions, by seeing the route it followed when it had to
unwillingly deforest the unexplored mountain - the subtle observer can only
praise the golden opportunity to complete the image with the missing or dimly
colored pieces of the puzzle. This is, in and of itself, a mighty topic I am
certainly tempted to explore further (most probably in another post).
The second side-effect of
disruptions, that I am willing to chase now, is related to their capacity
interrupt and disturb our internal world. The mere fact that old tracks turn
unusable overnight urges us to suddenly stop, take a deep look at the new chaos,
and devise something. But interestingly enough, the stopping and reevaluating moment
could have consequences that might reverberate beyond the mere “what shell I do
now?” unknown. Such suspended discontinuities, at least for those inclined to
question the philosophical underpinnings of their behavior, might occasion a
deeper analysis of what animates them (or their organization, the health
system, the government) to engage in these behaviors, of why and how these
actions were carried out in the first place. These unwelcomed and resented interruptions
could actually make us pay renew attention, could bring a fresh perspective,
could make some things appear sharper, and make us notice what previously
stayed unnoticed. We might have the chance to listen the muted hums of deeply
hidden personal wishes, to get in contact with our values, to reconsider some
choices that were half-consciously reiterated hundreds of times during the loud
noise of everyday live music.
Looking back two months ago,
when the CORONA crisis had just started, for a moment I had the impression that
my usually buzzing academic world - that continually demanded something of me -
had suddenly stopped, and I was literally unable to interact with it (i.e., as
the regular face-to-face classes were suspended). It was a moment of pure silence,
when the whole world seemed suspended, smoothly floating in a foreign space, with just the
void surrounding me from all over. And for a split second I subjectively had a
powerful impression that I was totally free in that floating space, unbound by
any straps, disengaged from everything except my passions, absolutely free to
direct my whole mind towards activities that makes me reverberate with truly
vital tonalities. It was during that moment that I’ve been in contact with my
deep values whose hum was continuously blocked by the buzzing noises and the incessant
external demands once essential for my professional development. It was during
that moment that I realized how limiting the attached straps were for my
intellectual freedom and for my creativity that could not take hold of my entire
mind due, mainly, to the lack of psychological space. It was during that moment
that I decided to carve in my program more writing time, to devote myself
towards contemplating the fresh new images unintentionally revealed by CORONA’s
multiple disruptions, to welcome and even entice creativity, to express myself
courageously.
Besides being disheartening and
forcing the stop and reflect stage, disruptions pressure us to take actions and
push things forward, sometimes in entirely new conditions. After the denial is
surpassed and the initial shock absorbed, after the earth rotates around its
axis for a few uneasy nights, the unmistakable feeling that something significant
has shifted willy-nilly pushes us to change gears if we want to rise up to the
challenge. Unsure whether we can make even one step forward we make our first
moves in a state of agitation, apprehensive of what might happen. Around us
things look messy and we are not entirely sure how to proceed but it’s
overwhelmingly evident that decisions have to be made and actions have to be taken.
And the very interaction between the pressure to solve a problem and the
messiness around (present in the environment or in our own minds or both) has
the potential to spur creativity, as Tim Harford persuasively argues in his book. Baffled and resentful, we find
ourselves in the uncomfortable position to cope with the unexpected. And since
most memories fall short when it comes to solving new problems in unfamiliar
circumstances we knock at the door of creativity hoping for some get-around
ideas, or at least some plausible and handy hypotheses. We became suddenly
ready and willing to step out of our comfortable shoes, to try new things, to tolerate
unfamiliarity, and to spend more time solving problems. And such openness, that
we didn’t even bother to greet before the crisis or to spend one evening per
month with, was actually a by-product of the disruptive event per se. But Tim
Harford mentions in his talk on the Importance of Being Messy that the alertness occasioned by taking an unprecedented
rout, and sometimes by engaging in a longer adventure to explore the unknown, can
actually bring the extra bit of energy needed for the creative work.
Finally, I am not arguing that disruptions
are good and they should definitely get an invitation to the ball. I am not
even arguing that they always lead to philosophical awakenings, or improve our creativity,
or help us better understand the underlying mechanisms of the disrupted system.
I am just arguing that disruptions primarily disrupt, and oftentimes bring
unredeemable damages and lose. And that’s their main job! However, by forcing
us to act differently they also have some inadvertent potentialities that some
of us might take advantage of. And I don’t know what your reactions to CORONA’s
multilevel disruptions were, but mine incorporated multiple concerns, and
worries, and frustrations. But I was also surprised by an unexpected gift box I
received with a word twisting game inside. The instructions were to use some
word twists as a way to contribute to the up scaling of my neighbors coping
strategies. And you might remember, from a previous post, that among my
neighbors I counted the teenage Vietnamese girl who just learned English and
the Peruvian middle age man who recently got divorced. And interestingly
enough, playing around with the word game somehow captured my attention to the
point of underestimating how fast a Sunday can pass while writing.
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