Tag Archives: strategy

defeat the dread

Good chewy long-read from Cennydd Bowles, starting with a look at the ongoing situation (and a zinger of an opening line), and building out to a measured and respectful but nonetheless pointed dig at the futures industry:

For too long we’ve been serving the wrong goals: helping large multinationals and tech giants accrue more power and wealth at the expense of other actors, contributing to the atomisation of society by designing products for individual fulfilment ahead of the wellbeing of our communities. Our rethought world will need to prioritise people and societies, ecologies and environments, ahead of profit and productivity. If you use this crisis to thought-prophesise about the new era ahead, don’t you dare return to your cosy consulting gig with Palantir or Shell afterward. Own your impact. Act in the interests of this better world you espouse, and withdraw your support for the forces that brought us to the brink.

Selah. (Though it goes without saying that it’s yer Palantirs and yer Shells who are most likely to have the money to hire people after this sitch calms down some… and those who’ve taken their money before are unlikely to have too many qualms about taking it again.)

Setting my cynicism about the consultancy sector aside, Cennyd has a riff near the end that’s a timely reminder to me in the wake of yesterday’s long post about hope in the context of climate change:

… we will not succeed by simply evangelising our own paternalistic, privileged messages of hope upon others. We won’t convince others that we can conquer the climate crisis by pointing to our previous models of utopias yet unrealised. The only sustainable way to defeat dread is to give people the skills and the powers to forge their own preferable futures. Hope comes from communities, not from experts; it arises with empowerment and inclusivity, not the promises of politicians.

This is exactly the sort of work my postdoc project is intended to do, as luck would have it. But I need to remember that for “hope” to have a concrete meaning and manifestation, I have to come down out of the theoretical tower and do the work. That will be counter to my customs, certainly, but I’m confident—hopeful, even—that it’s not counter to my instincts.

Developing Potential: a report from the Local Trust

Around this time last year, I started doing some freelance work with a community development consultancy. We were working on a report-cum-strategy-guide for the Local Trust, and more specifically for community groups who are having redevelopment done to them: advice not on how to stop the development process — because once it’s started, it’s effectively impossible to stop, and that’s very much by design — but on how to stand up to it and, perhaps, wrest some concessions and community benefit out of the suits, flacks and hucksters who play The Regeneration Game.

That report — finally given the stirring title Developing Potential — was released earlier this week; you can read the guidebook for communities and the Big Local case studies as separate documents, or you can hoover down a pdf of the whole thing with all the trimmings.

Despite my shocking lack of objectivity on the topic (as demonstrated above), Blue Chula put me to work on background research and report drafting. My text is in many places unrecognisable in the final version — turns out my prolixity is about as appropriate for third sector publications as it is for academia — but BC and the Local Trust have nonetheless done me the great honour of naming me as one of the report’s authors.

It’s a shame we couldn’t have released something closer to our earlier drafts, but recent changes in the legal system mean that charitable organisations have to be extremely cautious about criticising the government, as they risk forfeiting their charitable status and/or funding if they are seen as being too “political”*. But nonetheless Helen at BC pushed hard to publish case studies in which the communities portrayed could see themselves and their experiences represented fairly, and while the guidebook is notably less torches-and-pitchforks than my earliest outlines suggested it should be, I think it’s realistic about the prospects, and about the sacrifices necessary for a community to get involved in the redevelopment of their neighbourhood.

In other words, I am genuinely honoured to have my name on it — even as I’m fairly certain that it doesn’t entirely deserve to be there.

[ * — Thankfully I am not a charitable organisation, which leaves me free to decry this policy as being born of the same craven sleight-of-hand that trumpets a rejigging of the planning system in the name of “inclusivity” while actually watering down what remains of the planning system to the extent that developers can largely do what they want, provided they have the funding for a good law firm, which of course they always do. If there’s one thing I learned from spending a few months digging into UK planning law and the way such projects play out on the ground, it’s that not only is the planning system of the UK deeply dysfunctional and biased toward the developer, but that it is working exactly as its designers intended it to work. I’d hold those designers in somewhat lesser contempt if they had the courage to admit that. ]

There is no them

The champions of peace will always be vulnerable to the argument that since the enemy, too, is whetting his knife, talk of peace is unrealistic, even dangerous or treacherous. The quest for peace, like the struggle to arrest climate change, requires that we think of ourselves not just as states, tribes, or nations, but as the human inhabitants of a shared space. It demands feats of imagination as concerted and impressive as the sci-fi creativeness and wizardry we invest in future wars. It means connecting the intellectual work done in centers of war studies with research conducted in peace institutes, and applying to the task of avoiding war the long-term pragmatic reasoning we associate with “strategy.”