The horsemen of the apocalypse are why Innovation is needed more than ever.
You’d be forgiven for thinking recently that the Apocalypse is upon us.
You only have to glance at mainstream or social media to see people in crisis, by no fault of their own. War, inflation, natural disasters and pandemics alike remind us that the world is not equitable or just. That equity-seeking groups are often more dis-abled by structures and policies in times of greatest need. We cannot repair the climbing consequences of social and environmental pressure by building more of the same systems that created it, so what is the answer?
It’s time for a little honesty. I am in the business of wellbeing, to understand it, to build more of it, to dismantle systems impact people from achieving it and to model it myself. This means pulling off the mask when I’m wobbly, in the hope that others can feel confident in their vulnerability.
I’m not going to beat around the bush, it’s been tough. Our work at Ember Innovations, finding and supporting innovation that will support greater wellbeing is rewarding, worthwhile, ground-breaking and incredibly inspiring. In ‘normal’ times, although this work is vital to a future where we all have the support we need, the context of system-change is mind-numbingly complex, mindsets are frustratingly slow to shift and impact is notoriously difficult to measure. It needs our full focus.
But these aren’t normal times. We have entered a state of emergency with our buckets are already full. As well as whatever unique stressors we each have on our plate right now, we are collectively dealing with high inflation wondering how the bills are going to get paid, coping with the ongoing nature of living with COVID, raising increasingly neuro-spicy kids (our wonderful Innovation Lead’s favourite term), and dealing with our own cocktail of emotional, social, spiritual, environmental stressors. And if you experienced the floods or cyclone itself, regardless of your personal outcome, the energy of hyper-vigilance required to survive, protect your whānau and your whare was exhausting.
On top of what’s happening on our doorstep, we are witnessing from afar the trauma of war and climate change disasters and many of us are carrying with us a sense of impending doom. Even ‘Sting’ this week, the most balanced celebrity I know, spoke out loud about his loss of optimism;
“I have to say, though, that the window for optimism is narrowing as the world gets a little older - we need to open it.”
In these last few weeks I have done the type of help I have the energy to do right now. I may not have money to donate or a chainsaw to set to work but I’ve picked up a shovel, spoken to people in distress, and opened our home to those who have lost theirs. I have picked up a pregnant woman stranded on the motorway with a car full of kids but no petrol, and stopped for a chat with our local rough-sleeper.
In the in-between times, as I bounce between meetings and mahi, I have burst into tears for no apparent reason. Others I’ve spoken to recently report losing it at their partner or the kids over the smallest things, sitting numbly in meetings or staring at computer screens. I’ve seen posts from people ghosting work or relationships and eating nothing, or drinking too much, and until a friend who had been through the Christchurch Earthquakes reached out to me, I failed to recognise these small moments for what they are, trauma responses.
On social media I observed people trying to push through with humour; power-outage jokes about ‘cooking with gas’, and surfing memes. There is much gratitude about being ‘one of the lucky ones” alongside tragic posts about loss of life, home and hope . I hear guilt from those comparing their luck to those less fortunate, as if by suffering too it would somehow alleviate other’s loss. Indeed through my tearful outbursts, my own inner voice has been getting cross at me: “suck it up buttercup – there are people a lot worse off.”
Underlying so many of these conversations is a sense that we must power on, be (overly) productive to take the load of those who have bigger things on their plate, and sacrifice our own wellbeing out of some misguided sense of guilt. My colleagues have apologised for missing deadlines and not returning calls but this is not a time for stoicism. This is a time to put our own oxygen mask on first.
This isn’t quite like the Pandemic. When we were in lockdown, everyone was in lockdown albeit in different levels of strain, but our resilience boots are now threadbare, and our amygdala is on full alert. We watch people being helicoptered away from their homes, or pulled from rubble on the news with real dissociation, because this is our brain’s way of coping. Whether we are observing it, or taking a leading role in these events, the human race is coming to terms with our fragility. The onslaught of threats to safety and stability go right to the core of Maslow’s heirachy of needs. And newsflash – this fear isn’t going to go away overnight.
So now that I’ve depressed you all, I will get to my point. What is the solution?!
Why, Innovation of course!
There is a real risk that in re-focussing fiscal priorities on the rebuilding of physical infrastructure, we deprioritise new investment in innovative mental health solutions. When we do this, we lean on an existing mental health, wellbeing and substance support system already unable to cope.
The answer to growing uncertainty, instability and distress is not longer waiting lists to the things that work for very few, but a partnership between both public and private players in the infrasctucture of community. In COVID times, commissioning boxes loosened, and private investors and philanthropy stepped up to move quickly on good ideas. This type of appetite for investment ‘risk’ paid off with more people being able to access support through virtual and digital solutions, community outreach and Iwi, Hapu and Whānau based solutions. Investing in innovative solutions that connect people, give them the tools and resources to support themselves and others around them, and prioritise free and equitable access will release the burden not only from our communities under strain, but a workforce close to burnout.
To tackle the horsemen of the apocalypse, we must invest in innovating our response to the chaotic times ahead. Governments, private investors, communities, and individuals must all play a part in building more resilient systems. Failing to act will cause irreparable damage to our economic, social and environmental well-being.
Immediately, this means providing resources for innovative projects that can find and develop solutions to the world’s challenges. It also means recognising the value of measuring and communicating impact, reducing obstacles to access, and advocating for funding and policy that puts health, mental and collective, at the top of the list.
In the long term, we need to continue to promote collaboration across sectors and break down traditional boundaries of working. We must focus efforts on scaling up innovative solutions, and investing in the development of a sustainable talent and resource pipeline built around wellbeing, and social and resource equity.
The price of inaction is too high and the urgency to act is greater than ever. Failure to make innovative investments in mental health solutions will lead to higher health costs, lower productivity, social breakdown, and further negative impacts accruing to the most vulnerable in our society.
Now it is more important then ever to catalyse capital for mental health and well-being solutions, and at Ember Innovations we are about to release our report "Catalysing Capital for Mental Health" to give practical pathways and solutions to those in Government, Private Investment and Communities who are ready to act.
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