Tricky Times

This is where we fail to press on to the integration stage, put off taking decisions and never act on ideas, and so end up hovering at the threshold, neither here nor there. We know we ought to change, but don’t. New initiatives are just variations on the old. Carving out a new identity proves impossible. We try to blunt or buffer the pain and emptiness we feel, instead of rooting it out and resolving it, leaving underlying problems to fester.

We may even blame our state of affairs on each other, making conflicts boil over and thwarting any form of reconciliation. Street demonstrations grow endemic, border conflicts keep on claiming lives, divorces inflict years of agony and, try as you might, you cannot get past the death of a loved one. Resolution, completion, closure: these things are essential.

Instead of genuinely transformative rituals, we go for the rush of the electrifying experience without the pain that comes with real change. Modern societies often lack the clear group rituals that build ties and guide transitions.

Often, we don’t take the time to delve deeper, preferring to sidestep the discomfort of change. We prefer things to be fun and inspirational. This leaves us with activities that offer the thrill of a liminal experience but fall short of transformation. These kinds of liminoid activities keep us dangling, like experience junkies, in a state of permanent liminality.

Faced with ambiguity and uncertainty, we are tempted to believe the most outlandish stories, explanations and solutions. There is a real danger when people flood social media with crazy messages that pit camps against each other. New divisions gain purchase more easily during liminality, and if we don’t know the exact story, we make one up. If everyone around you is in panic mode, your body is swift to react.

Much as we like to think we direct our own thoughts and behaviour, that’s not entirely true. Emotions, behaviours and narratives are contagious. We copy what others do far more than our ideal selves would care to admit. But during liminality our usual points of orientation are thrown into doubt, leaving us unsure just who or what to trust and emulate. In extraordinary times we are open to extraordinary stories, even if they are beyond belief. We can’t help it. Storytelling is what makes us human.

Who seduce us with pretty words and fixes that are too good to be true. We are always susceptible, but much more so in liminal times. Tricksters are both wonderful and despicable. They twist boundaries, juggle facts and fictions, and so craft new realities. Sometimes, with disastrous effects. They lure us with the promise of privileged knowledge. They pin blame on everyone but themselves and scheme to make others take the fall when things go wrong.

Tricksters are seducers, charlatans or villains who defy you to stick to your own moral compass. We all have trickster tactics of our own and can often tell when others are using them. Tricksters push through boundaries and tread on hallowed ground. Everything the trickster does is out of bounds and against the rules, yet by tearing things and people apart, they also clear spaces for new situations and fresh possibilities.

Take Robin Hood. Hero or thug? Tricksters force us to think hard about our moral compass. They are brilliantly creative and essential for change, but, with too many of them, things get stuck. This is a problem we are seeing in many places. We have come to confuse trickster logic and tactics with leadership competences, drawing tricksters from the fringes into the very centre of power. And that is getting us into big trouble.

Because: who gets to shape the new narrative, who pays the highest financial price of change, and who profits? Transformation calls for bold leadership. It calls for decisions that go beyond personal interests. Fundamental changes always bring about shifts in power and reshuffle rankings.

While it is tempting to cling to what’s familiar, if the status quo becomes untenable or unpalatable for enough people, it can lead to frustration, friction and, potentially, aggression. For there to be a peaceful transition to a new situation, those in charge have to be willing to change, too. Actively, but also by stepping down from or sharing power, rank and privilege. Which is awfully hard for people to do.

The blurring of boundaries in the liminal space creates more room for everything, also for the darker side of human nature. People may do things they would normally never dare to. Brilliantly innovative things, but also transgressive behaviours such as verbal abuse, physical aggression and substance overuse.

Alternatively, people may be seized with indecision and apathetically wait for others to act. We need individuals who can create and hold spaces so we don’t feel fearful to explore our boundaries. Particularly because we tend to be lousy communicators. Innovation hinges on people sharing ideas, even and especially if those ideas cause sparks to fly. Interaction and decision-making are how humans build cultures, but all the liminal emotions churning around are hampering our ability to do that now, just when it matters most.

We like things to be set in stone straight away and feel pressured to quickly hammer out solid plans, to know the end goal from the outset, and often lack the guts to leave room to let some magic in. It’s much harder to have faith that new paths will present themselves to you along the way.

Not by waiting around for lightening to strike, but by keeping your eyes open, meeting new people, experimenting with new options, asking and listening deeply. The challenge for our modern cultures is to let ourselves be liminal. To feel our emotions and to tap our imaginations. To create and to craft things into existence. And to have the courage to tune into our own magical powers.