Our worlds have turned upside down. On March 20, 2020, as I write this, COVID-19 has been active for over 3 months, has been an official “pandemic” for 9 days, has officially infected (many are infected but will not be tested or officially confirmed) over 270,000 people and 11,290 people have died. 184 countries have confirmed cases, as have all 50 states in the United States. The world is aware these numbers are going to continue increasing – and likely at exponential rates – for the foreseeable future.

As I began to recognize my personal responses to the unfolding realities over the last two weeks, I recognized that my reactions were often disproportionate to the reality, that I had lost a sense of stability and grounding, and had unusual emotion-led reactions to various events. I recognized symptoms that sometimes accompany experiences of trauma. I then wondered, as I tried to give space for my own healthy functioning in the midst of this upended world where everyone was trying to make meaning of new realities – whether we could learn anything from mapping this onto patterns of trauma and resiliency.

A few things quickly came to mind:

1. We are all processing our daily reality DIFFERENTLY, due to a myriad of factors. By using the lenses of trauma and resiliency, we recognize that we all respond to trauma in divergent ways with vastly different timelines. We have to give space for everyone to grieve, mourn, and eventually make meaning – in their own time and in their own way. Practically, that means radically different responses from “Hey let’s learn a new hobby while quarantined!” to uncontrollable crying with feelings of utter loss of control to hoarding toilet paper and hand sanitizer.
2. Layers of privilege map directly on to our experiences and responses to the changes we personally face. A COVID19 experience can vary vastly from the changes of working at home, being infected at a life-threatening level, losing the ability to feed your family or have access to soap to stay clean, to feeling trapped in a violent home, among many realities. All of our other social ills, disparities, injustices, systemic traumas and oppressions continue during the pandemic.
3. In time, we can learn lessons from this. When we’re open, we will see that we are in fact interdependent on each other – no matter our wealth, status, identity, or geography. We may recognize that many of our society’s structures are not adequately set up to benefit everyone, and that this (not having an equitable society) is a fundamental loss for all of us. At a personal level, we may recognize ways that we can interact more humanely with ourselves, our loved ones, our neighbors, and communities. But as we begin to identify and articulate these lessons, we might also need to let ourselves and others have space to flee, freeze, or fight first. To mourn, grieve, and acknowledge. To let the cloud be a cloud before we find its silver lining. To be human with ourselves and each other, so that we can all get through this together.

Below is my one hour (very basic) effort to articulate these ideas – seeing COVID19 through my understandings of trauma and resiliency. My articulation is heavily inspired and adapted from the “Snail Model” from the STAR program [https://emu.edu/cjp/star/], and from a graphic I saw The Depression Project [https://www.thedepressionproject.com/] develop a few days ago. I welcome collaborations to further refine, adapt, and be in conversation with this articulation.

The results are in. Nearly two years of candidate debates and media commentary are finally poised to dissipate, at least in some ways. But what is the rubble that is left behind?

We’re burned out from the election.

Our internet feeds are filled with cute animals, soft pillows, and dance videos (yes, I even posted footage from the 1980 World Disco Dancing Championships) to combat election fatigue – “because election fatigue is real, y’all” as USA Today’s headline about puppies suggests.

Why are we burned out? Because we’ve endured 20 months of 24-hour media coverage, rarely interrupted by non-election news. Because we’ve endured and even participated in heated political debates which included slammed fists, silent walkaways, ALL CAPITALIZED RESPONSES ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER, adjectives we thought we had thrown out in elementary school (“stupid,” “idiot,” “liar,”) or ones we didn’t realize were politically palatable (“hitler,” “nazi,” “fascist,”), all in the guise of advocating for – or against – who we thought might be a more “trustworthy” and “capable” President of the United States.

We disagree and we don’t know how to talk civilly to each other about it.

From our neighborhoods to the halls of congress, we don’t collaborate – let alone talk – with those who think differently from us. Research supports the media analysis that congress has become increasingly polarized over time. A striking visual representation of this has been making the rounds online, published initially by PLOS One:

[“This image illustrates the US House of Representatives in 1951 and 2011. Republicans are in red, Democrats in blue. Nodes are members. Edges are a relative measure of bill voting cooperation.”]

As Terry Madonna, director of the Center for Politics and Public Affairs at Franklin & Marshall College describes, “Thirty and 40 years ago, (political leaders) disagreed with each other, but they didn’t think the republic was in peril. That’s the apocalyptic view that each side has of the other. … They literally think in those stark terms.”

Scholars describe the reality that “[2016] is the year we all decided once and for all that those on the other side … didn’t just hold different opinions, but were out to destroy the country and everything it stands for.”

This idea - that a person with an opposing viewpoint aims to destroy the country - reflects the heightened tensions and violent rhetoric heard across the country. Several school districts even decided to close for election day for safety reasons.

We’ve lost our neighbors in echo chambers and ideological silos.
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Making worse this polarization is our ideological separation which means that very few of us have the opportunity to speak with someone who disagrees with us, let alone to do so in a civil manner.

This separation is variously described by scholars and analysts as echo chambers, filter bubbles, and ideological silos, and is consistent with increased residential segregation. Cass Sunstein, in his 2001 book Republic.com, describes the “echo chambers” created by the internet where “people restrict themselves to their own points of view—liberals watching and reading mostly or only liberals; moderates, moderates; conservatives, conservatives,” etcetera. Not only do we self-restrict, but web-generated algorithms steer users to these echo chambers, or into “filter bubbles,” limiting our consumption of diverse viewpoints.

Pew Research has found that this separation extends into our relationships as well. For those who consistently identify with a party, most of their close friends also share their political views. Those relationships are also sometimes a product of our geographical residences – where we live, which according to scholars is increasingly segregated along class and race lines. That segregation in itself impacts not only our ideological silos, but power and policy:

“Segregation of affluence not only concentrates income and wealth in a small number of communities, but also concentrates social capital and political power. As a result, any self-interested investment the rich make in their own communities has little chance of “spilling over” to benefit middle‐ and low-income families. In addition, it is increasingly unlikely that high‐income families interact with middle‐ and low‐income families, eroding some of the social empathy that might lead to support for broader public investment in social programs to help the poor and middle class.”

So we live in isolated bubbles, get fed perspectives which only support our own, and in turn develop heated and at times violent rhetoric towards those who may see things differently than us. In other words, we’re becoming less compromising, less cooperative, and less able to see different perspectives – the core skills needed to resolve conflicts and live productively in a democracy (or family, or workplace, or faith community, or anywhere with another human being).

Where to start? A simple challenge

We sometimes forget that everyone prefers a more peaceful, more collaborative world over a divisive and destructive world when given the option. One of the most fundamental skills in building peace is being able to see, hear, and ultimately understand diverse viewpoints on divisive issues. So how do we move beyond our natural and increasing polarization and separation to have the opportunity to see, hear, and understand a different perspective from our own?  A few simple ideas may get us going in the right direction:

1. Read a physical newspaper (even better – read several which you know lean different political directions). This escapes the algorithms fed online to only deliver news that you will agree with.
2. Attend a community gathering organized by people you don’t know. It doesn’t even have to be political in nature, but you’ll be allowing an opportunity for face-to-face interaction which builds trust, community, and appreciation of difference.
3. Wonder out loud. When you hear a perspective you disagree with, press “pause” on your defensive reactions and wonder out loud, why it might be that they hold that perspective.
4. Listen. When in conversation with someone with a different viewpoint – seek to understand their perspective first before you offer your ideas. Listening – and understanding – are radical skills that are foundational to cultivating a more peaceful world.
5. Practice forgiveness and patience. We’re quick to create enemies based on radically opposing viewpoints. What if instead we were patient enough to listen to the viewpoint, and even forgive each other when we say things that are hurtful or rude? We may be surprised as we end up with more friends… and a more diverse set of ideas to consider.

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And maybe, just maybe, this rubble can become the building blocks of a stronger democracy, and stronger communities.
 
Sharon Kniss is the Director of Education and Training at the Kansas Institute for Peace and Conflict Resolution in North Newton, Kansas.

In my writing and approaches, I’ve created certain phrases that I’ve begun to use frequently in order to try and describe what I do.  Here I try to explain them.

Healthy and Resilient Communities (and Cities)

This is a phrase that I have created (modified from other uses, such as healthy organizations and trauma resilience) to try and describe the vision I have for communities.  Specifically related to violence, it is a community that can prevent, end, and heal from violent conflict.  However, it takes a lot of developed capacity and coordinated effort to be capable of doing all three of those [see image below for more on this].  For example, a community that ends violent conflict isn't just a community that runs interference between people killing each other - it's a community that creates a way of being that violence is not seen as an appropriate or necessary response to challenges.

How do we become healthy and resilient?

This is where the jargon can have a heyday.  We need cross-sector collaboration in multi-stakeholder processes.  We need innovative and adaptive approaches in action and learning.  Building capacity necessitates asset-based development as a starting point while utilizing adaptive leadership for collective impact (see: Living Cities).  And the jargon is right.

But stepping away from the jargon, we need people working together who have different skills.  We need open minds and creativity, risk takers and planners.  We need the “root cause” folks in the same room as the “fix it now” folks – we need the bandaids and ambulances as well as the family doctors for preventive medicine.  We need the business leaders to help support stable economies, and developers and planners to make sure that people can have safe, healthy, and equal access to public services, non-profits to effectively fill in missing gaps, faith groups to articulate the moral voice,  etc.

Socio-Economic and Racial Bridging

Many of our communities and cities in the U.S. struggle from deep segregation along class and race lines.  I operate on the premise that social change necessitates more border-crossings in our communities; relationship building that creates a whole-community vision, rather than partial community visions about and by people who are like us.  One of my current operating theories of change suggests that appropriate, practical, and effective policies are born best when the policy-makers have relationships with those who are most affected.  Such work is rooted in relationship building, but must also actively seek to address the structures that perpetuate divisions.  This includes intra-group education and awareness raising, as well as institutional and system-wide change.  My work doesn’t necessarily directly address such bridging as a particular project, but rather the understanding of the need undergirds all of the work I do.

Facilitating

The by-line for my work is “facilitating change and justice.”  This is very different from creating change and justice.  My passion in the region is to “facilitate and encourage that which is already present and emerging.”  I’m using facilitate in its root sense from “facil[e]” – to make easy.  When I facilitate, I am hoping to make “the work,” often others’ work, easier. 

South Bend and the Michiana region have a long history of standing up for justice and building healthy and resilient community.  My work is premised on the idea that we must learn from, and build on this history for any new or renewed efforts in the region.  This is not the time for a new idea from the outside (per se), but a time to build on the strength and wisdom that is already present, to partner and collaborate together for sustainable change.

Whether it’s helping individuals, an organization, or a group address a boiling conflict, whether it’s helping communities discuss contentious issues, whether it’s organizing a coalition for social justice, or whether it’s creating a strategic plan for a business – I don’t come in dictating the path for change.  Rather, I listen closely and partner with those involved to build on their existing knowledge and capacities for a more sustainable solution for everyone.

Key Paths

Below is an articulation of the multiple interconnected paths necessary for building healthy and resilient communities.  While not exhaustive, it begins to demonstrate the diversity of sectors and actors needed in building and sustaining such a community.