Blog Posts

“A Four-Letter Word”

Mr. Rogers once said:

“Fame is a four-letter word. And like tape, or zoom, or face, or pain, or life, or love. What ultimately matters is what we do with it.” – Fred Rogers, 1999

As the world remembers 9/11 on this, the 25th anniversary of the deadliest terrorist attacks in human history, I think of all the four-letter words that came to light that day – and what we’ve done with them.

Dan Loh/AP (see “The 9/11 photos we will never forget”)

I was surprised to realise just how many of them I associated with that fateful day. They are: hate, love, pain, hero, face, lies, game, safe, stop, rage, cage, race, walk, book, door, wood, heat, cool, evil, good, weak, wolf, and of course, hope!

The tragic events started with HATE – that of the people who planned and carried out these horrific attacks that killed 2,996 individuals in just a few hours. FEAR is what it awakened in a nation that had been used to being sheltered and safe – a sentiment that few other countries in the world knew for such an extended period of time.

But also the ever-powerful counterpoint of hate: LOVE!

“Love Actually” opening monologue, spoken by Hugh Grant, 2003

As Hugh Grant’s character says in the opening monologue of Love Actually, all the final messages left by victims to their families on that unforgettable day were messages of love. When faced with their imminent demise, all these poor souls held on to love, not hate.

“Jules, this is Brian. Listen, I’m on an airplane that’s been hijacked. If things don’t go well, and it’s not looking good, I just want you to know I absolutely love you, I want you to do good, go have good times. Same to my parents and everybody, and I just totally love you and I’ll see you when you get there.” – Brian David Sweeney’s voicemail to his wife on 9/11 before his flight hit the South Tower.

There was also PAIN. The immense pain of the people who were burned, maimed, traumatised by the attacks – both in the Pentagon and the Twin Towers – but also the pain of the survivors, the first responders, and, of course, all the families and friends who will forever mourn those they lost that day in three locations.

And as time went by, we started hearing countless stories about a HERO: the Man in the Red Bandana. And all the ordinary heroes and heroines who came to the aid of their colleagues, or even people they didn’t know. Those who disregarded their own safety to rescue others.

Bit by bit, we started putting a FACE to every victim, so that actual people with moving stories could replace mere numbers.

“Man in Red Bandana” documentary about Welles Crowther who saved many on 9/11, before the South Tower collapsed on him.

Then came the aftermath. The LIES told by those in power to wage an unnecessary war in Iraq and shelter their interests in Saudi Arabia. And the GAME that was played by heads of state, using an entire nation’s shock and distress to steer them like cattle. Towards a world where everyone’s freedom would be shrunk in the name of safety and security, in order to better manipulate and control us – to keep us “SAFE”. Safety is the emotional state a whole country lost that day; and that loss affected the rest of the world, too.

STOP is what we need to do now. Stop with the escalation of fear that feeds RAGE and a desire for revenge, violence, disregard for human life. Stop with the manipulation of each of us through our little rectangular screen, which has become our own chosen CAGE. Stop with the divisiveness and the individualism, the inequalities and consumerism, the exploitation of the have-nots by the haves. Stop with this RACE. The never-ending race after an elusive security and wealth, that even the richest people in the world apparently never reach. It is never enough, it is always out of reach.

We need to learn to WALK again instead of running, read a BOOK instead of a screen, open the DOOR to welcome our neighbours instead of slamming it in their face, replace plastic with WOOD, just as mere appearance should give way to authentic substance.

We need to change course as a civilisation, so that the dangerous HEAT overtaking the planet – both literally and figuratively – can once again return to a COOL, moderate and nuanced climate.

Enough with all the four-letter swearwords we hear day in and day out. They are but expressions of our helplessness, as we have yielded our powers to faceless giants.

Very accurate depiction of today’s dangerous tendency by cartoonist Matias De Brasi

Humanity will always be comprised of both EVIL and GOOD, and we all live with a demon and an angel inside us. Social media and algorithms amplify the voices of the evil that exists out there, which in turn feeds the evil inside. On rare occasions, though, they also amplify the voices of good that exist, both within and without.

We must remind ourselves that the anger, the shows of strength, the need to dominate that are as visible as they are loud, are born in individuals who are deeply WEAK. No one with true strength of character needs to subdue or annihilate others. We all live with our fears, but what we do with them is up to each and every one of us.

This reminds me of the Cherokee parable about the two wolves:

An old Cherokee Indian chief was teaching his grandson about life.

He said, “A fight is going on inside me,” he told the young boy, “a fight between two wolves. The Dark one is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.”

He continued, “The Light Wolf is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you grandson…and inside of every other person on the face of this earth.”

The grandson ponders this for a moment and then asked, “Grandfather, which WOLF will win?“

The old Cherokee smiled and simply said, “The one you feed”.

And so, on this day commemorating the people who died in the attacks twenty-five years ago – a day I remember so vividly, as does anyone who is old enough – I want to turn again to a four-letter word. One that is among the most powerful driving forces, namely HOPE.

As the ancient Greek myth of Pandora’s Box already suggested, when she opened the forbidden jar, releasing all the suffering and evils into the world, before she slammed the lid shut, Pandora safely managed to preserve one thing inside for humanity:

“The only thing that stayed within the unbreakable contours of the jar was Elpis [Hope].” – Hesiod, Works and Days, c. 700 BC

AARP senior editor George Mannes in Manhattan, shortly after the fall of the World Trade Center’s South Tower.

Despite the great sadness, disbelief, and helplessness I often feel when I see all the long-term consequences of the deadly attacks on September 11th, 2001, I still feel hopeful. That those who do good will rise above the discord and malice again, even if they are often outnumbered by those who do evil. Hope that the love I feel and see all around me will continue to shine a light where so much darkness has spread.

I cannot forget the images of that immense cloud of dust, debris, and ashes that engulfed the streets of Manhattan when the towers collapsed upon themselves. But the dust ended up settling. It harmed a lot of people that day, and for decades that followed, but it did settle. And the sunlight did finally shine on the city and its inhabitants once more.

As I was recently overtaken by a sense of disheartenment, a wise man I hold dear sent me this simple truth, which somehow did lift my spirits:

“We are cyclical beings; we must come to terms with that.” – G.D.

Just as after light comes darkness, after darkness will come light. But it will not happen by itself. Like the many people who helped one another on 9/11, we must roll up our sleeves and do good, shine light, bring hope, and spread love. Always. However hard it may be.

Let that be the lesson we take from all of this. And let us take a moment to reflect on and honour the lives that were so tragically lost that day.

We can honour them by carrying their messages of love forward, until they eventually drown out all the noise.

“Love Is All Around” by Wet Wet Wet, 1994

In memory of all the innocent victims on 9/11, and those who died afterwards due to exposure to the toxic air in Manhattan that day. To all innocent victims of the murderous violence bred by hateful individuals everywhere.

Photos taken by Ljuba in July 1995

(Title quote taken from Fred Rogers’s acceptance speech
when he was inducted into the Television Academy Hall of Fame in 1999.)

“Art can change the way we see the world”

I was recently invited to write an article on social movements for the Belgian Laïcité Magazine. Since I teach a course on Art and Culture for Social Change at a Communications and Journalism higher education college – a topic that has been at the centre of my work for the past twenty-five years – I took the opportunity to offer my perspective on how art and culture can drive social movements.

Laïcité Magazine Cover for the article I recently wrote (2026) illustrated by Zelda Moore Boucher – Read the article in French here.

Critique, Connect, Mobilise

Every artist eventually comes up against the question of what their art is for. Even though the concept of ‘art for art’s sake’ rests on the idea that a work should be sufficient unto itself, any practice requiring such a high level of skill inevitably raises the question: ‘What is the point?’

And yet, throughout history, artists have demonstrated their considerable influence on society. Those in power have always understood this. They have sought to appropriate artistic codes in order to shape official narratives, while artists have used those same codes to challenge them. Today, this tension remains as strong as ever, as digital platforms and artificial intelligence profoundly reshape the balance of cultural power.

Between Entertainment and Awakening Consciousness

Artists have often found themselves at the forefront of major social upheavals. Far from being mere observers, they have regularly played an active role in popular mobilisation. In this context, the term ‘culture’ encompasses a broad socio-economic ecosystem bringing together the creation, dissemination and mediation of artistic works.

The arts are sometimes dismissed as frivolous because the boundary between entertainment and raising awareness can be a fine one. Yet while art can certainly be an end in itself, its ability to stir deep emotions also makes it a powerful catalyst for civic engagement.

La Marseillaise drowns out Nazi voices in “Casablanca” scene (1942)

It is impossible to speak of the Italian Resistance without thinking of Bella Ciao, which became the anthem of the anti-fascist partisans. Likewise, the iconic scene in Casablanca, in which the patrons of Rick’s Café sing La Marseillaise to drown out the voices of the Nazis, remains one of the most striking portrayals of collective dissent. Art possesses a unique power: it illuminates what lies in the shadows and leaves a lasting imprint on our consciousness.

Art Instrumentalised by Power

Throughout history, authoritarian regimes have sought to control artistic representation. From the pharaohs to Mao Zedong, and from Soviet Socialist Realism under Stalin onwards, rulers have demanded idealised images of themselves and their power.

As new media emerged, governments sought to appropriate those too: Italian fascist radio, Nazi propaganda cinema, Soviet posters and so on. Under Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Ministry of Propaganda notably enlisted filmmakers such as Leni Riefenstahl to construct a visual aesthetic in the service of racial ideology, wielding an extraordinarily powerful emotional force.

Trailer of the documentary “Riefenstahl” (2024)

Art as a Space for Criticism

Why does art unsettle dictatorships so profoundly? Because it creates a space for individual freedom, exposes what those in power seek to conceal and, by its very nature, becomes a space for criticism. Otherwise, why would the Nazis have burned thousands of books by their opponents in vast public book burnings? And why does censorship remain so pervasive today in China, Russia, Saudi Arabia and North Korea?

The Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei once summed up this inseparable relationship between artistic creation and political engagement:

‘I may just be an artist disguised as a dissident. I don’t think anyone can separate art from politics. The intention to separate art from politics is itself a deeply political intention.’ (2011)


Power and Possibility: Interview with Ai Weiwei (2025)

From music to cinema, art has consistently established itself as a territory of dissent. Satire, in particular, is one of the most powerful forms of counterculture. In 2022, American comedian Jon Stewart put it this way:

‘When society is threatened, comedians are the first to be silenced. Authoritarians are a threat to comedy, to art, to music, to thought, to poetry.’

Jon Stewart’s 2022 speech about comedians and artists as the targets of fragile leaders

From the Personal to the Universal

Understanding the role of culture in civic mobilisation means first recognising where it begins: with personal experience. A phrase attributed to Leo Tolstoy captures this idea perfectly:

‘Paint your village, and you will paint the world.’

The artist’s role is often to awaken consciousness by starting from lived experience. By drawing on their own experiences, creators foster empathy among audiences and bring overlooked realities into view. Like humour and self-deprecation, artistic works can act as social mirrors, challenging established norms and conventions.

What we are exposed to shapes our perception of what is normal. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, streaming platforms and social media have come to occupy a central place in our lives. Beyond their algorithms, each platform applies its own editorial rules, shifting the boundaries of what is considered acceptable, visible or legitimate.

Being and Appearing

In their pursuit of authenticity — but also of image and reputation — many multinational companies now consult their Employee Resource Groups (ERGs). These groups, which include members of historically marginalised communities, have a role in shaping how stories are represented and distributed around the world. Despite persistent inequalities in access to and dissemination of creative works, there is a growing desire to promote narratives that may be progressive or, conversely, conservative.

Against the backdrop of rising populism, one question remains: what is the real impact of more inclusive representation?

A wide-ranging study conducted by researcher Stacy L. Smith at the USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative between 2021 and 2025 shows that greater visibility of women, people from racialised communities and LGBTQ+ people on screen — as well as behind the camera — gradually influences what audiences perceive as ‘normal’ and representative of society.

The Danger of a Single Story

This is why it is so important to multiply perspectives. As Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie explained in her celebrated 2009 TED Talk:

‘The danger of a single story is not that it is false, but that it is incomplete. It makes one story the only possible story.’

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s unmissable TED Talk: The Danger of a Single Story (2009)

The diversification of narratives surrounding minorities has profoundly altered the way we perceive certain contemporary events. This cultural shift also contributed to the global scale of mobilisation following the murder of George Floyd and the rise of the #BlackLivesMatter movement.

Likewise, becoming accustomed to seeing LGBTQI+ characters in cultural works makes censorship policies targeting them in certain countries all the more visible. And while storytelling can help break the silence surrounding sexual violence, the #MeToo movement gained a global resonance by exposing abuses that had long gone unspoken.

Whether the issue is disability, economic insecurity or discrimination, artists help transform individual experiences into collective emotions. Through personal stories, culture creates connections and gives rise to communities. Physical spaces — theatres, museums and festivals — bring people together around shared sensibilities.

Thus, although the singer Angèle did not initiate #MeToo, when her audience sings “Balance ton quoi” (a French reference to the #MeToo Movement) together, that collective energy contributes, in its own way, to shifting social norms.

Angèle and her massive audience sing “Balance ton quoi” literally translating to “denounce your what” – a clever play on the French #MeToo campaign #balancetonporc (“expose your pig”) that broadens the call-out from specific abusers to everyday sexism and misogyny as a whole.

Get Up, Stand Up, Stand Up for Your Rights!

Music has established itself as one of the most powerful forms of protest. Accessible and deeply emotional, it can convey memorable messages to vast audiences — and allows those audiences to make those messages their own. Carried first through oral traditions and later through modern technologies, music forges collective identities and transforms individual indignation into shared anthems.

The question ‘What is the soundtrack of your life?’ often leads to another: ‘What is the soundtrack of major civic movements?’

For the American civil rights movement, there was We Shall Overcome. John Lennon voiced opposition to the Vietnam War with Give Peace a Chance; Miriam Makeba denounced apartheid far beyond the borders of South Africa; while Bob Marley sang of freedom and unity for peoples emerging from colonial rule.

Miriam Makeba sings Khawuleza (Live 1966)

Every major civic movement eventually finds its voice through music. Across genres, music shares the same capacity: to communicate ideas, awaken consciousness and mobilise people around lasting social change.

The Weapon of Walls

‘A wall is a very big weapon,’ wrote Banksy.

Street art has become one of the most powerful forms of reclaiming public space, transforming streets into open-air galleries. By intervening in conflict zones or marginalised neighbourhoods, artists such as Banksy and JR subvert the codes of advertising and political communication to expose injustices that are often rendered invisible. Their works, frequently ephemeral, act as visual shocks, forcing passers-by to confront social realities that might otherwise remain hidden.

Banksy, Spray Paint, New York, USA

Through his monumental collages of anonymous faces, JR restores visibility and dignity to people overlooked by dominant narratives. He summarises the philosophy behind his work in these words:

‘Art is not supposed to change the world, but to change our perception of the world.’

And shifting our perspective is often the first step towards collective mobilisation.

JR’s TED Talk: Can Art Change the World?

And God Created AI

The rise of generative artificial intelligence is now disrupting the entire cultural ecosystem. By automating parts of the creative process, these technologies open up access to new artistic tools, while simultaneously raising major questions around copyright, the appropriation of existing works and the concentration of technological power.

This transformation also raises the risk of cultural homogenisation, driven by a handful of major global platforms that control the tools, models and channels through which content is distributed. AI therefore poses a profoundly political question: who controls our means of creation today — and, by extension, our collective narratives?

Beyond artistic production, AI is also transforming the dynamics of civic mobilisation. It makes it possible to produce striking visual content at unprecedented speed, but it also facilitates the spread of false information and the manipulation of public opinion.

Culture as an Essential Democratic Space

Art rarely produces immediate or easily measurable effects. Yet it can transform our sensibilities, imaginations and collective representations in lasting ways. Artistic works do not replace political action on the ground, but they can make certain transformations imaginable — and, ultimately, acceptable to society.

Works of art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

Art and culture are therefore not peripheral to social struggles: they are an integral part of how those struggles are shaped and sustained every day.

As an essential democratic space, artistic creation performs a vital function: making injustices visible, forging human connections, amplifying marginalised voices and opening up alternative imaginaries that can help us envision, together, a different future.

(Title quote taken from the artist JR’s TED Talk: Use art to turn the world inside out, 2011
Read the original article in French here.)

“Get back to where you once belonged”

I have just returned from my first trip back to Montreal in fifteen years. This is an ode to the city I love above all others.

Montreal was my home for six of the most transformative and glorious years I’ve experienced so far. I arrived on “the new continent” at twenty-four with two suitcases. I left at thirty with two dozen boxes filled with the objects and memories of the life I had built overseas. I’ve been back only a couple of times since, and by now far too much time had passed. This long break can be explained by a succession of circumstances, including becoming a mother, the worldwide shut-down due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and others.

Why, then, do I use the term “going BACK” if I only spent a fraction of my life there? Because I used to spell it “MON-tréal” in my French correspondence to family and friends abroad – as in “MY-treal”. It was mine, and somehow it still is. And just as I had made Montreal my own, it had also made me its own. As I wrote in a 2019 post about synchronicity in one’s life, I discovered a part of myself that had been waiting for me there all along:

“The one who had sprung from the starry-eyed exuberant little girl I once was. The one who is reconnecting with her intellect, her emotions and her body.”

Street art on the Avenue du Mont-Royal (photo by Ljuba)

Being back there, it didn’t feel like seeing an ex and nostalgically remembering how great we used to be together. Rather, it felt like running into an old flame and realising you had never stopped loving them—that you loved who they had become just as much as who they had once been. Everything from its history to its dialects, from its way of life to its geographical situation, from its folk music to its metro stations permeated my being.

Living there awakened a sense of awe and pride that I’d never had. A patriotism. There is a short book by Neil Pasricha titled “Canada is awesome“, but for me, it would be more accurate to say “Montreal is awesome”.

During my recent stay, a very special person asked me why, having lived in several countries, I chose Montreal as my home. It got me thinking about how to explain what I only felt intuitively. And this is the answer I came up with:

Because it’s just big enough to allow anonymity, yet small enough that you can easily run into people you know, by chance.

Because its streets are lined with trees and flowers. Because its distinctive roofs and colourful façades make everything else feel colourful too. Because its outdoor staircases and porches are like faces on each building. Because in its back alleys, people hang their laundry and neighbours bear witness to one another’s lives.

Because I’ve always felt like Montrealers don’t judge each other based on appearances. Because here, you live and let live.

Because the St. Lawrence River is never far.

Because the buildings aren’t overwhelming at three or four storeys – except downtown, where you’re transported somewhere else entirely – and the wide streets let you breathe.

Because you encounter so many cultures, and you’re in a largely bilingual (French‑English) city.

Because its walls tell stories through street art.

Because as soon as the weather allows it, everyone is outside all the time, and culture lives in the streets through festivals. Culture is democratised for the public, and class divisions feel less present.

And then, there’s also the fact that here, you can speak loudly, be a little wild in your ambitions and dreams, and you’ll always find someone ready to help.

Of course, I also know what I missed from Europe when I lived across the ocean: the complexity tied to its many distinct national identities, the incredible food you can get at your local farmer’s market in every neighbourhood, the historical architecture and countless museums, and many other things. But even with all that, Montreal remains the one I love the most.

Between the Carré St-Louis and Boulevard St-Laurent (photo by Ljuba)

“And what about Quebecers?” he asked “What’s so special about them?” To which I replied:

“If I may allow myself a broad generalisation, I feel that Quebecers are concrete and dynamic, they’re doers, they’re enthusiastic.

They made me grow wings while Europe often felt as though it weighed my ankles down with the leaden weight of doubt. They welcomed me immediately and unlocked doors for me, they seemed to answer every call, and opened their homes and their hearts.

They wait in line instead of cutting ahead, instead of pushing to get there first.

They allow you to remain yourself and value inclusion over assimilation.

And the masculinity as I’ve known it here appeals to me: a true, embodied masculinity without toxic machismo. A generation of men who aren’t afraid of strong women and are there to support without crushing, without controlling.

In Montreal, I never felt as though men were undressing me with their eyes. Instead, I saw an implicit respect, and it was both refreshing and gratifying.”

View from the top of Mount Royal (photo by Ljuba)

What’s more, having gone back to my former home after almost twenty years, I realised that – like in any lasting relationship – I no longer idealised Montreal as I first did. Of course, I had my honeymoon phase when I first moved there in the early 2000s, but it gave way to a deeper understanding of the city, with all its qualities and flaws, its complexity and contradictions. And yet, it still manages to make me smile, it still makes me feel free and optimistic. It still gives me wings. Not like the ones I wore when I was younger and fresh. This new set of wings isn’t quite as fluffy or light, but it seems to suit my middle-aged back. I am curious to see where they might carry me if I decide to take them for a spin…

Time will tell. In the meantime, I am grateful to have experienced, and continue experiencing, this extraordinary love for a place nothing in my early life had prepared me to call home. But when I came across it, I knew. Like you sometimes know about a person. You can’t explain it. It isn’t rational. You simply know you have to take the leap, lest you miss what life is all about.

“Get Back” by the Beatles (rooftop concert in 1969)

(Title quote taken from the Beatles song “Get back” written by Paul McCartney, and credited to the Lennon–McCartney partnership)

“And me, and me, and me”

Art by Tijana Djapovic

During a recent weekend in Paris, I noticed how many padlocks couples had attached everywhere in the city. On historic bridges, monuments, fountains… And for the first time, I was really bothered by it. It felt as though something in the city was being tainted. Some thirty years ago, there were hardly any padlocks to be found, save on bicycles. So what has changed in the meantime that has made this fad unavoidable in almost every part of the City of Love visited by tourists?

(Photo taken in March 2026, lamp post on the Pont Neuf)

The more I thought about it, the more these locks seemed to me like symptoms of three ever-growing tendencies in our societies. First, on top of the world population having nearly doubled, flights have become affordable enough that every well-known city is now overrun by tourists. Second, in line with the globalisation of everything, a tradition once specific to one place — namely the Bridge of Love (Most Ljubavi) in Vrnjačka Banja, Serbia — has, like so many other things, been exported wherever people wish to take it, regardless of local customs. And third, I increasingly feel that people have become obsessed with making an impression and receiving recognition — or likes — for it.

“What is it that bothers me about these padlocks?” I wondered.

The first time I heard about these so-called “Love locks”, decades ago, I thought the Serbian legend that apparently gave birth to this fashion was a touching tale. The story goes that Nada, a schoolmistress, died of heartbreak after her beloved Relja never returned from war, and that, in her memory, couples began locking padlocks on the Bridge of Love — where the couple used to meet — to protect their own relationships. But then I started noticing those padlocks in cities everywhere, from Europe to America. And it bothered me in much the same way as seeing Starbucks cafés, McDonald’s, or H&M stores everywhere.

(Taken from Art by Tijana Djapovic)

I am not entirely anti-globalist, but I am wary of the uniformisation of cultures, as I wrote in a previous article entitled “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas”. There is, of course, much to be said for the democratisation linked to this tendency. In the past, only wealthy people had the privilege of tasting foods from other continents or discovering other traditions, sights, smells, and sounds. Now, not only can far more people travel thanks to low-cost flights, but one could also argue that they have as much right as any multinational company to export whatever they like from one place to another, including a symbol of their undying love.

Yet just as the democratisation of flying comes with environmental costs, the spreading of local traditions creates a tension between individual freedom and the gradual loss of cultural specificity. One could argue that this process began long before our era. The Roman Empire is far from the only example of one culture exporting itself elsewhere — or, to use the current popular term in international development, “scaling”. And just as the Roman Empire brought roads, sanitation, irrigation systems, and laws that can certainly be seen as positive developments, the price paid by conquered peoples for this “improvement” was immense. Likewise, as is pointed out in this LSE article:

“Scaling has become a buzzword in international development, where the received wisdom is to ‘scale what works’. However, whilst this is a paradigm that suits private investment in international development and science more broadly, complex problems require nuanced solutions.“
– Robert Mclean, John Gargani and Dena Lomofsky for the London School of Economics and Political Science

Today, I fear that the accelerated spread of cultural symbols may lead far more easily to a true uniformisation of culture than was possible even just a century ago. European countries do take greater pride in — and market — their local identities more than they did when I was a child, but these traditions often feel like products being sold, while deeper ways of living slowly converge into the same globalised habits. This affects everything from the way we work to the way we eat, dance, and interact with one another. Thankfully, we are not entirely there yet, but I do think it is important that Europe — and other continents, which I will not speak for — preserve certain traditions insofar as they maintain cultural diversity. Otherwise, the very purpose of travelling might become obsolete.

The other point I want to raise, which inspired the title of this text, is the egocentrism I perceive in the gesture of leaving behind these padlocks. I chose the 1966 French hit song “Et moi, et moi, et moi”, sung by Jacques Dutronc, because it is a satirical text about selfishness and indifference toward global suffering. It contrasts massive world problems with trivial personal concerns, suggesting that, despite terrible events, people continue to live self-involved lives. The song’s lyricist, Jacques Lanzmann — whose brother Claude directed the landmark 9.5-hour documentary “Shoah” — belonged to a generation of French intellectuals and artists deeply concerned with collective memory and critical thought, in contrast to ever-growing navel-gazing trends. Along with this ongoing tendency, I also notice the popular transformation of intimate feelings into public display.

(“Et moi, et moi, et moi” by Jacques Dutronc, 1966)

A more romantic way of looking at “Love locks” is that couples want a physical, public ritual that makes their feelings seem permanent in a way that words or rings perhaps no longer do. Most people would probably argue that it is simply a symbolic act satisfying a deep human desire to leave a trace of a meaningful moment.

But the way I see it is that, where exchanging rings is a promise made to each other, couples now seem to feel the need to share every moment and every feeling with everyone else as well. Having each other no longer feels sufficient unless the world is invited to witness it, turning private affection into public performance. The act becomes less about love itself and more about broadcasting identity — a way of saying “we exist” in a culture obsessed with visibility. In that sense, I see these padlocks not only as symbols of devotion, but also as small monuments to our need to be seen. After all, we all know the philosophical question:

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

On a side note, whilst these locks are seen as a way to share your love with the entire world, their very nature seems to me the opposite of what love should be. Rather than a cold and rigid shackling, isn’t love supposed to be warm, fluid, and free?

Regarding the proliferation of these locks, what increasingly happens is what occurred on the Paris Bridge of Arts (Pont des Arts), which used to be my favourite bridge to sit on when I lived there a quarter of a century ago, before it was covered in padlocks. By 2015, the bridge had become so overloaded with them that part of the railing collapsed under the weight. This led to the “No Love Locks” petition to ban love locks in Paris, with the slogan:

“Free your love. Save our bridges”

The locks were eventually removed from the Pont des Arts, and glass panels were installed to protect the structure and maintain safety. To me, that is the essence of the story. In their desire to say “we were here,” all these couples almost destroyed one of the most beloved bridges in Paris.

(Photo by Douglas O’Brien on Wikipedia)

And even now, when I visit exhibitions or beautiful places in Paris, I mostly see tourists taking pictures or selfies, posting them immediately, and then leaving. I get the feeling that many of them don’t linger long enough to truly see what they initially came to look at. I sometimes suspect they spend more time looking at their own photographs and tracking the likes than taking in the real-life sights before them.

Perhaps this view is too cynical. Perhaps the way people experience love today is simply different from how it once was — neither better nor worse. Also, perhaps, democratising culture means democratising love, making it something to be shared publicly with everyone.

(Christine and Franz’s vow of eternal love in the 1958 film “Christine,” followed by a tribute montage honouring the iconic real-life couple Romy Schneider and Alain Delon.)

But I would argue that now could be a good time to look back at the 1958 film “Christine”, starring Romy Schneider and Alain Delon, in which the lovers simply shout their vows from the top of a mountain into the valley below, listening to their own echo — and listening for the echoes of all the lovers who came before them. Their story ends tragically, yet there is something beautiful in that scene: no tangible trace, no selfie, no padlock. No one but they knew about it, and yet their love was true. And it left the mountain and the valley untouched for all the lovers who would come after them.

(Title quote: French song “Et moi, et moi, et moi”,
music and voice: Jacques Dutronc, lyrics: Jacques Lanzmann, 1966)

“Dumb people got it all figured out”

For the general health of our society, we should all welcome – or at least come to terms with – the relative discomfort of taking nothing for granted and questioning everything.

Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

It is certainly more comfortable to go through life without asking questions. As the comedian Trae Crowder says in his show “Trash Daddy”:

I think it’d be great to be dumb… because dumb people are confident… Dumb people don’t have doubt.

Smart people are racked with doubt. [They wonder]: “I think I’m going about this the right way, but what if I’m wrong though? What if there are factors I’ve not yet considered?”

Why do you think [alcohol] is so popular with smart people? … Because [it’s] ‘liquid stupidity’.
People call alcohol ‘liquid courage’ like it temporarily makes you confident.
No, it temporarily makes you dumb, and confident is a side effect of dumb – that’s how it works.

We’ve all experienced it: You go out drinking… and you’re the life of the party – in your head. [Then] you wake up the next morning [and think]: “Why did I say all that dumb shit last night?”
Well, imagine you never had to wake up that way, you never had to feel that shame.
That’s what being dumb is.”

– Trae Crowder, stand-up comedy show “Trash Daddy”

And although we sometimes wish we could be dumb, and rid ourselves of doubt, it is this constant questioning—of ourselves, of others, of this world—that allows our evolution, both as a species and as individuals. Stability is sometimes necessary to strengthen us, but it does not move us forward.

Perhaps the goal is to move through life like a voyage by boat: after facing rough seas, we enjoy anchoring in a peaceful bay, or even spending some time on solid ground. But to keep the boat from deteriorating, and not to lose our reflexes, sooner or later we must set sail again. Going from island to island, meeting different people—family, lovers, friends, colleagues. Some for part of the journey, others just for a moment, others still for a lifetime.

But to breathe, to take in the most incredible landscapes, to discover our limits or become aware of our strengths, we must climb back on board again and again—sometimes despite ourselves. Little by little, we end up finding our own balance in the constant motion of the waves, the currents, the winds. We find our own rhythm, with others and without them. But we can never quite lower our guard or fully let go—lest we fall… into boredom.

(Title quote taken from Trae Crowder’s stand-up comedy show)

“A stranger I was born, a stranger I wish to remain!”

I recently went to see the play “Girls like that” – by British-Canadian playwright Evan Placey – which stirred up deep emotions in me. Through his characters, Placey dissects the devastating impact of a leaked naked photo on a group of teenage girls, within the broader context of the toxicity of patriarchy and the cruelty of modern cyberbullying. The skilful Belgian director France Bastoen turned this already truthfully harsh and well-constructed text into a hard-hitting play, which affected me particularly directly. As I mentioned in my post “Dripping water hollows out stone” (about mechanisms of victimisation) I was bullied by my classmates in school.

The Belgian cast of “Girls Like That” directed by France Bastoen, 2026 (photo: ©Lara Herbinia, article in “L’Écho” by Eric Russon)

Having experienced systematic bullying from the ages of eight to fifteen, I applaud the way in which Placey managed to grasp teenage girl group dynamics, as well as their individual inner turmoils. Only one sentence in the play sounded more like wishful thinking than a genuine reaction in such situations: when confronting her bullies, the main character, Scarlett, tells them that they will never forget her, while she will go on to forget them. Based on my own experience, but also on numerous accounts of similar experiences by other adults, I can safely say that anyone who has truly been bullied during their childhood or adolescence never forgets this experience. This is not to say that they cannot outgrow it. Quite the contrary. They will often rise far above their bullies.

Art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

I dislike the expression: “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” because I feel that suffering can sometimes weaken you deeply. But in this particular case, I think it may apply. I would, however, add a caveat, namely that I doubt becoming stronger is caused by being bullied. Rather, I believe that truly original people or misfits have an innate strength that makes them a threat to flocks of sheep, or herds of any kind. That is precisely the element that causes them to become the targets of bullies. Some victims do end up being destroyed by the viciousness of group violence – whether verbal, psychological, or physical – over time. But those who are not often go on to be much more exceptional than any member of a flock.

As Matt Stone, co-creator of South Park, said in Bowling for Columbine: 

“(In high school) they scare you into conforming (…) by saying if you’re a loser now, you’re going to be a loser forever. (…) They just beat it in your head as early as sixth grade: ‘Don’t fuck up, because if you do, you’re gonna die poor and lonely.’ And of course, it’s completely the opposite: all the dorks in high school go on to do great things.”
– As Matt Stone in Michael Moore’s “Bowling for Columbine“, 2002

Matt Stone being interviewed by Michael Moore in”Bowling For Columbine”, 2002

Although I am by no means an aggressive person, I could partially empathise with the two kids who shot their schoolmates at Columbine High School. Naturally, I don’t condone their crime in any way, but I do see how ostracised and bullied teenagers could be driven to that point of no return. The depth of wounds classmates can inflict upon their prey is often underestimated. I personally still bore the figurative scars twenty-five years later, as I was pregnant with my daughter. At the time, when thinking of what lessons I wanted to pass on to my unborn child, the first thing that came to mind was: she must never silently endure bullying! And that is how I came up with the idea for my children’s book “Leona, My New School” about a little girl who is bullied by her classmates.

Image taken from “Leona” written by me and illustrated by Tijana Djapovic (All rights reserved, 2017)

And, unlike me at the time, it only takes Leona one year to change schools and find happiness, rather than bearing metaphorical punches and literal humiliations on a daily basis for seven years. This children’s book is meant to spark conversations with five- to eight-year-olds about bullying, and it especially aims to reassure bullied kids that what they are experiencing is not their fault. The goal is to encourage them to fight or flee the situation. Either is fine, as long as they stop enduring the pain and save themselves. 

There are many other examples in pop culture of kids who were bullied at school and carried this wound into adulthood. The legendary sitcom “Friends” springs to mind, with Monica as the former “fat chick”, still bearing the burden of her former degradations. But in  one episode, there was also the character Susie Moss (played by Julia Roberts) who was humiliated by Chandler in high school and gets revenge on him twenty years later. Realising what is happening, he says, incredulously:

Chandler: “That was in fourth grade! How could you still be upset about that?”
And having humiliated him back (at long last), she responds:
Susie: “Call me in twenty years, and tell me if you’re still upset about this.”
– Chandler and Susie in Friends S2E13, 1996

Julia Roberts and Matthew Perry in Friends episode “The One After the Superbowl”, 1996

There was also a notable interview between former US Secretary of Labour, Robert Reich, and Pod Save America host, and former speechwriter for Obama, Jon Lovett, who both recount their experiences of having been bullied at school. After having told his experiences of being held upside down over the toilet by taller boys as early as kindergarten, 79-year-old Reich asks 43-year-old Lovett if he, too, was bullied at school, to which Lovett replies:

“You bet!”
– Jon Lovett, Pod Save America

To me, this was such a memorable reply, because it implied that any highly intelligent, slightly shorter than average boy would be bullied at school. These two men are both extremely successful today, and have received a great deal of recognition in their careers, and yet, they cannot speak of their formative years without mentioning being bullied. 

Jon Lovett interviews Robert Reich on Pod Save America, 2025

Therefore, I don’t think that Placey’s Scarlett should have said that she would forget the people who bullied her – however much we would wish this to be true. What she could have promised them, though, is that she would outgrow them. And even that she would be happier than any of them. Because, as Elizabeth Bennet says to her sister in Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”:

“I shall never be as happy as you till I have your goodness. I never shall; and, dear Jane, do not believe that every body is as good as you are”
– Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”, 1813

And that is something I deeply believe. A person’s happiness can only grow with their kindness: happiness lives in the heart, and a truly big-hearted person cannot be a bully.

No one who is good, kind, and happy needs to harm others. Therefore, bullies and their herd of sheep can never be as happy as a former victim of bullying who has made their peace with their past. This means that the formerly bullied individual must have risen above the pain, and seen these bullies for who they are: mere mortals who know not what they do. For if they did, they could not live with themselves. We all know that there are innumerable bullies who are former victims of bullying. But none of them have made their peace with their past – and themselves – or they would not have to inflict on others what they themselves suffered.

This election poster reads “YOU are the majority” (Photo montage by René Maltête, 1987)

What is so hard about making your peace with having been bullied, is that it forces two very hard realisations. The first is that you were powerless in that situation, which is probably one of the hardest states to find yourself in as a human being: impotence. The second is that you were othered, pushed to the margins, which is also one of the most vulnerable positions to be in. And yet, it is possible to come back from both states. It is possible to see yourself as a worthy person again, and perhaps even embrace your estrangement from others. 

Once you do, you start to see being “strange” as a strength. You can acknowledge the comfort members of a herd must feel, while rejoicing in not being one of them, but rather an individual who stands out in a crowd. So the very aspect of you that made you a target becomes your vessel to a different mindset and unique creations – freeing you from the shackles of your former state of impotence and humiliation.

“Raise Your Glass” by P!nk, 2010

This reminds me of P!nk‘s song “Raise Your Glass”:

“So raise your glass if you are wrong
In all the right ways
All my underdogs
We will never be never be, anything but loud” 
– P!nk “Raise Your Glass”, 2010

Iraqi-American anthropologist and journalist, Louis Yako, spoke about the importance of strangers in these words:

“(We are taught) to avoid strangers, yet life teaches us that human awareness can only be born of the dagger of strangeness… that life is tasteless without mingling with strangers… that familiarity is opposed to life! Thus I loudly declare: A stranger I was born, a stranger I wish to remain! And I ask that you issue my death certificate the day I become familiar.”
– Louis Yako’s “Cancer Everywhere”, 2025

And although it took me a decade after leaving that school to start embracing my “strangeness”, I finally did. So much so, that I was able to go back and face my past demons, look them in the eye, and realise that they still could not admit to who they once were, even when confronted with the truth as adults. They are not monsters, and most of them have gone on to lead pleasant lives. But they have not had to question themselves or their behaviour the way I did. They never had to leave the flock, explore broader horizons, or reach new heights. Which tells me that my experience did bring me further – not just than where I once was, but also than them. And it’s no thanks to them, but rather to my own otherness.

(Title quote taken from “Cancer Everywhere” by Louis Yako, 2025)

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been”

One year giving way to another is an obvious time to look back and reflect on what the past twelve months have brought us – both good and bad. As media and people around me are quick to point out, this year has seen a lot of bad, a lot of pain, suffering, and frightening escalation in international conflicts and various inequalities. Much of this is tied to the Large Orange Elephant in the Room. And it has been our great misfortune to realise the endless scale of this “room” he’s omnipresent in. One could say the whole world is his “playroom”. There are many reasons to speak about the disastrous, tragic, and appalling consequences of this mindless and despicable President’s actions. Democratic adviser Philippe Reines said:

“He’s an amoeba…”
– Philippe Reines on Pod Save America

But an immensely dangerous one. For the first time in decades, the concept of a Third World War is sounding less and less hyperbolic.

Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

And yet, precisely because the world feels so fragile, I want to begin the year on a different note. Thus, I have chosen this optimistic title quote, attributed to George Eliot, that I find fits my personal experience of the past year. Adelaide Anne Procter phrased it differently, and perhaps more poetically in her Legend of Provence: 

“No star is ever lost we once have seen, 
We always may be what we might have been.”
– Adelaide Anne Procter

Both quotes speak to me because 2025 has been a year of reconnecting with who I essentially am, and of unexpected encounters and achievements for me – ones that I didn’t even dare to hope for anymore.

This thought, that I may now (again) be coming into my own, takes me back to my blog post of February 2019 I should have been a great many things, Mr Mayer (quoting Louisa May Alcott). At the time, I was reflecting on all the paths I could have chosen, but didn’t – all the selves I could have been, but wasn’t. I was deeply immersed in a feeling of missed opportunities and nostalgia for what might have been. What made me think of this is that I am now in the exact opposite situation. I feel that I am where I need to be. Or, in the words of someone I hold in high esteem:

“I feel more fully (and better) inhabited.”
– Personal Source

This has happened like everything else in life does: as a chain reaction. One that I am trying to unravel. In creative writing, an often-used technique to decide what happens between the beginning and the end of a story is to start from the end and work your way backwards. This works because – in fiction and reality alike – each event that happens is the result of something prior, even unbeknownst to the characters, or to you. To trace back my present fortunes to their points of origin, I sat on a sunny terrace, overlooking the city I have grown to love, sipping a glass of wine while writing in my little notebook. It was somewhat like 19th Century author Hannah Crafts‘s texts, where idiosyncratic dashes seemed to be “sewing” her story together.

I was assembling pieces of my recent history, like pieces of a quilt. This task revealed one clear message: Whatever happens to us, we must learn, move forward, and love. Always.

On this subject, author Marguerite Yourcenar, wrote:

“The best remedy for the mind’s turbulence is to learn. It is the one thing that never fails. You may grow old and tremble, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder in your veins, you may lose your one love and you may lose your money to a monster; you may watch the world around you laid waste by dangerous madmen, or know that your honour is being trampled in the sewers of the vilest minds — there is only one thing to do in such conditions: learn.”
– Marguerite Yourcenar “Sources II”

Art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

Learning may not guarantee success, nor can it necessarily prevent future pain or failure, but it does ensure constant evolution, which is key to living a full life. And even when you think there is nothing to be learned, one lesson that is always valid is this famous idea from ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus:

“Change is the only constant in life.”
– Heraclitus (paraphrased)

As long as you exist, think, and feel, you plant seeds. Every day. Some will grow, others won’t. But what I have seen is that, of all these seeds I planted over the last few years, some ended up growing in the most unexpected and wondrous ways.

Learning also means getting up again after each fall – regardless of the time it takes you. Because life will knock you down in countless ways. Still, just as people continue to breathe when they have little to live for, we must get up after each fall, if for no other reason than to satisfy our curiosity about what will come next.

Whilst trying to pinpoint one specific decision that led me to where I am today, I found that it had been the act of turning my back on jobs I was doing for acknowledgement, a fancy title, or a good paycheque. Bearing abusive behaviours by an erratic boss, or being surrounded by people I had little to do with, just made my reorientation easier. Since going back to writing creatively, sharing my work, attending workshops, meeting other creators, I have seen a gradual change in me. The light inside me seems to have come back. I have given a voice to parts of me that had been dormant for too long.

And thus, bit by bit, the bricks I once used to build walls – shielding me from the world – are now helping me build a new path ahead – reminiscent of the classic musical The Wizard of Oz.

“Follow the yellow brick road!”
– The Munchkins in Victor Fleming’s “The Wizard of Oz”

Nonetheless, my road has been uneven, and it has not always been easy remaining positive. As I often tell my daughter, it’s easier – and sometimes justified – to be negative and defeatist, or blame others for one’s misfortunes. Trying to find the right path, applying for jobs in my forties, balancing getting back into shape with being a mom and a breadwinner, trying to be open to new relationships and connections, accepting the things I can’t change – including my many imperfections – none of it has been easy! Had I not fought to stay positive, I might have collapsed under the weight of my own unmet expectations.

And just like Dorothy, I couldn’t have gotten to where I am today if I had travelled this road alone. Learning from past mistakes, I steered clear of people who might see my guilelessness and enthusiasm as naivety or weakness. I most definitely chose my travelling companions wisely.

At long last, I started writing for myself, and not for an unknown audience or for some sort of recognition. I began communicating consciously, rather than just expressing myself. And I’ve been keeping my expectations in check. Not my hopes – just my expectations.

I have, in the process, found a true calling that I didn’t know I had, teaching curious and passionate young minds about the power of art and culture. I’m opening up to feelings I’d tucked away behind those invisible walls. For the first time in my life, words have poured out of me like ink, and they materialised as a play, just as Elizabeth Gilbert describes in Big Magic (see TED Talk, below).

“Creative living is a path for the brave. (…) If I want creativity in my life – and I do – I will have to make space for fear, too. (…) I am who I am today, precisely because of what I have made and what it has made me into.“
– Elizabeth Gilbert “Big Magic”

Just like that, 110 pages worth of words traversed me, and came out of my fingertips. And when the opportunity arose to have it read by professional actors, I seized it – even though the play wasn’t ready. Because Why not?! What did I have to lose? Never before would I have dared to share an early draft with people who could tell it wasn’t fully baked. This exercise was very uncomfortable, but it propelled me forward by months. And this year, I took every chance I got to have my work published and read, even though I know authors who might have written those texts far better than I could.

Likewise, when I started teaching my course to students, I compared myself with my co-professor, whose experience far surpasses mine, and whose smooth style differs from mine in many ways. And then I stopped comparing us. Because all that I may learn from him can be learned without comparing us.

As simplistic as it may sound: I am me. And a big part of how I got here has been based on learning without comparing myself to others, choosing whom to trust, accepting who I am, and going towards risks that I have deemed worth taking. Today, I am at home within myself and in my life. Surely enough, further changes will come about – both good and bad. Because such is life. And that is why I am making sure I enjoy all the good things I sometimes doubted I would have (again).

My final note here is inspired by my youthful days, working on the stage musical Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’. The main character, Pink, spends the entire story building emotional walls to protect himself – from trauma, loss, fame, and isolation. Then, at the end, he reaches a breaking point, his psychological defences fail, and he is finally exposed. The Wall is destroyed, and all who were trying to help Pink all along – whom he could only see through the filter of his giant wall of fear and mistrust – can be seen for who they are. And he can finally be who he is. The lesson being that only baring yourself guarantees the possibility of connection and growth. And that is one that speaks to me.

(The Judge:)
“Since my friend you have revealed your deepest fear 
I sentence you to be exposed before your peers.
Tear down the wall, tear down the wall, tear down the wall!”

(The wall collapses. Pink is exposed.)
(Narrator:)

“All alone or in twos
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand-in-hand
And some gathered together in bands
The bleeding hearts and the artists make their stand
And when they’ve given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it’s not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall”
– Pink Floyd (Roger Waters), “The Wall”

It may be harder to live without those big sheltering walls around you, but I have found it more rewarding and real. The world would certainly be much more peaceful if the people in charge of it dared to live with their fears. But since I can’t change them, I’m glad I’ve managed to change myself at least.

(Title quote attributed to George Eliot.)

“A very small heart… could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude”

Last night, I reflected upon an email I sent to the Master’s Course Director, who gave me an exciting new opportunity to teach a course on “Art and Culture for Change”, thanking her. Why this impulse, this need to share my joy of the moment or to express my gratitude toward her? While it’s in my nature to share my joys and sorrows, I’ve also made a habit of telling people the good I think of them. Because I don’t think we do it enough.

Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

There is, of course, that tendency to shower each other with: “I appreciate you, I value you, I see you.” But it often sounds like copy-pasting. It’s “ready-to-speak,” mass language.

In that same vein of ready-made phrases, there’s the famous “practice gratitude!” which irritated me until recently. This injunction rings false when you’re not doing well, and it annoyed me more than anything when nothing I undertook seemed to work. The bad people around me seemed to be succeeding, while I was struggling without seeing any result from my tenacity. Yet, I was supposed to “be grateful!” For what, exactly?

In Croatian, we say that as long as everything is going well, you have a thousand worries, whereas when something serious happens to you, you only have one. So, we should remember that we are lucky to have a thousand worries. And that is true. But…

But where I had neither the desire nor the capacity to be truly grateful while I was tirelessly fighting, now, my “thank yous” are generously—and also conscientiously—distributed. Why?

Because, without everything being exactly as I would like, a multitude of buds are now blooming. This follows two years of incessant sowing that often seemed futile. Because, after facing malicious or disrespectful people, the benevolent individuals shine in contrast. And I feel the need to let them know. Also knowing that “the kind ones” are often no strangers to slaps and setbacks. They, therefore, truly need to hear that they are appreciated, valued, seen.

And so, without having repeated any mantra like “Be grateful!”, it turns out that I am. Not because a self-help book prescribed it to me, but because it became obvious.

There is no moral to this story, except that there is no universal recipe, nor are the consequences always predictable. And while it is necessary to remain active to ensure some form of evolution, forcing things does not always bring the desired results. But we must move forward, because something new will eventually arise. Always.

As French reggae singer Tonton David once sang: “Chacun sa route, chacun son chemin.” (“Everyone their own road, everyone their own path”.)

(Title quote taken from “Winnie-the-Pooh” by A. A. Milne)

“Every learner becomes an agent of change ”

Over the last two decades of my career, I’ve noticed some trends in our society that have only recently gained media attention. Namely, a focus on overspecialisation at the detriment of a broader vision, and a push for hyperproductivity at the expense of reflection and contextualisation. As the labour market’s requirements have always been reflected in our education system, which has served to feed the market what it needs, I see this mindset seeping all the way down to our schools and universities.

Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

Professional Mobility

Before addressing how these trends impact our education system, let’s further clarify what they are. For the past quarter century, I have done all sorts of jobs, ranging from waitressing to running a cultural non-profit organisation, and from coordinating public policy teams in an American multinational to teaching kindergarteners English as a foreign language. My friends sometimes joke that it would be quicker to list the jobs I haven’t done, rather than those I have done. And over all these years of experience, whether as an employee or a freelancer, I have seen some common points across all types of organisations. When I entered the job market, the norm was for individuals to stay with one company over extended periods of time. This has drastically changed.

The explanation that is often given for young people becoming increasingly mobile in the labour market is that millennials and Gen Z prioritise a better work-life balance, flexibility, and a sense of purpose. I often hear older people criticising them for being spoilt, fickle, or unwilling to sacrifice for a pay cheque. But there is another way to look at this “job hopping”. Even though this is partially a choice for zoomers, it is not the whole truth about their situation. They are, of course, motivated by a desire to gain diverse experiences, acquire new skills, and increase their pay. However, the other side of the story is that their mobility also results from employers setting unrealistic expectations for their employees, which makes it difficult to stay long in one company. 

MrPratikThakker raises several points regarding quick turnover in the workplace

Squeezed Like A Lemon

It is also true that employers regularly have young potential employees jump through hoops before hiring them, as a way to sift through the hundreds of job applicants for every qualified opening. Then, once they are hired – at a meagre salary for the required involvement – they are expected to be flexible with their schedule, so that they can work evenings and weekends, be constantly available via several communication channels, and prove their passion for their work by prioritising it above all else. Not to mention the sometimes subtle – and sometimes explicit – threats to fire them if they don’t do everything that is requested, since dozens of applicants “would be happy to take their place”. 

Over time, being told that they can easily be discarded gives these young employees the justified feeling that their employer doesn’t care about their well-being. Rather, what matters is only their consistent productivity, reaching constantly rising KPIs, and living with impending burn-out because competence is met with an ever-increasing workload. As comedian Masood Boomgaard, a.k.a. “Self-help Singh” says in one of his parodies of inspirational videos:

“Your boss is not your friend, your company is not your family. (…) Your boss doesn’t care about you, (…) but only about making ‘the money’.”

These employer-employee dynamics don’t foster loyalty to the company.

Self-Help Singh reminds us not to confuse our boss with a friend, nor our company with a family

Productivity Above Context

I’ve also noticed that, while companies are being absorbed by large conglomerates, and as our focus has shifted towards a North American model of speedy productivity above all else, what we have lost is contextualisation, which is defined as:

“The fact or process of considering something in its context (= the situation within which it exists or happens), which can help in understanding it.”

This is an absolutely essential element of a successful long-term strategy. But all the concrete goals that are being set by companies are short-term: KPIs (key performance indicators) focus on very narrow and measurable targets, strategies have to show immediate results or benefits to prove they are worth implementing and scaling.

The danger with this approach is that we seek the highest performers for each required role without looking at the bigger picture – which inevitably leads to wasted opportunities, lower creativity, and a lack of innovative findings. Why? Because a broader vision, seeing cross-pollination and collaboration opportunities, and effective communication across silos, is what can lead to true innovation and successful long-term solutions. Ultimately, overarching and thoughtful communication can only exist in an environment that breaks down barriers and gives greater freedom to its employees. Freedom within a structured environment, with a shared purpose. 

Internationally renowned scientist François Taddei once told me the Indian parable of the blind men and an elephant. It is a story of a group of blind men who have never come across an elephant before, and who imagine what the elephant is like by touching it. Each blind man feels a different part of the animal’s body, such as the trunk, a leg, the tail, etc. They each describe the animal based on their limited experience and their descriptions differ from each other. The moral of the parable is that humans have a tendency to claim absolute truth based on their limited, subjective experience as they ignore other people’s limited, subjective experiences.

A brief recounting of the parable of The Blond Men And The Elephant

Taddei mentioned this to illustrate why he co-founded the Learning Planet Institute in Paris (formerly Center for Research & Interdisciplinarity), which aims to train the next generation of scientists working at a crossroads between life sciences, education, and digital technologies. They are convinced that it is not only necessary but also possible to adopt a new and unique approach to education through research. Over time, in order to increase its impact, and to respond to the global challenges identified by the Sustainable Development Goals, the CRI became the Learning Planet Institute, with a renewed ambition to co-create a learning society, capable of tackling the complex challenges we face today and in the future. 

Peter Principle

The Learning Planet Institute’s interdisciplinary approach, placing emphasis on collective intelligence and communication across silos, is in many ways the opposite of the dominant system. Young people are still being encouraged to stay in one lane – which becomes narrower with each step in their professional specialisation. Although masters of their craft are necessary in the workplace, so are jacks of all trades – just as we need surgeons, but also general practitioners or homeopaths, who will look at the body as a whole rather than the sum of its pieces. In the absence of cross-silo communication or a “generalist” approach, constant specialisation in ever-narrower fields leads to the Peter Principle‘s cul-de-sac. 

“White Collar” Vs. “Blue Collar”

This mindset of encouraging overspecialisation applies to high school pupils and university students as well. Very early on, classes are being divided between students who choose a “serious” work path, i.e. hard science (encompassing anything from physics to medicine and technology), and those who opt for a “dilettante” road, meaning anything to do with social science, languages, or the arts. The latter are sometime lumped together with vocational education students, which creates a class divide as early as high school. A trend which continues throughout university studies. 

In today’s work sphere, a Bachelor’s degree is barely considered as a university degree anymore, as students are encouraged to accumulate multiple Master’s degrees – only to find themselves unemployable. Data shows that highly specialised white collar jobs are harder to come by without a professional network, that needs to be constantly tended to, while skilled tradespeople are always needed. There is a recognised shortage of skilled workers in various trades, such as electricians, plumbers, construction workers. The need for these roles is constant and not as tied to global economic fluctuations as white-collar sectors. This further shows that pushing young people to overspecialise for white-collar positions may be equally detrimental to the individuals and the market. 

Trust Over Performance

Simon Sinek addresses how trust is a more valuable element to a team than performance

Another issue with focussing primarily on results and high performance was addressed by author and inspirational speaker on business leadership, Simon Sinek. He showed how a Navy SEAL Team chooses its members, prioritising trust over raw performance. In their careful selection of teammates, they value high trustworthiness – even if the performance is only average – over a high performer who lacks trust. The point he is making is that celebrating “hard skills” over generally undervalued “soft skills” can actually be harmful to a team’s overall success and cohesion. 

Trust requires communicating openly and developing functional communication channels across departments or teams. Meanwhile, our current productivity model emphasises external communication to sell products or services for fast gain. And yet, the biggest problems that arise have to do with lack of effective internal communication, which is disregarded by most CEOs and managers. And developing internal communication strategies means hiring competent multidisciplinarians with a holistic view. 

A Vision For The Future

This role implies having empathy, curiosity, and an understanding of all parts of any given organisation. It also requires a long-term vision, which goes beyond earning shareholders fast benefits. This involves developing skills and personality traits that are in direct opposition to the current model. These include selflessness, thinking of what’s best for the group, being adaptable and flexible in the face of uncertain political and economic dynamics. 

François Taddei talks about learning how to learn, learning to be the best versions of yourself for the world

Where more and more people are turning to holistic practitioners for their health, I believe it is high time to apply this perspective in our classrooms and offices. What new generations should be learning is first and foremost how to learn. The future is unpredictable, and therefore our system can no longer train its children for the jobs of tomorrow – since we don’t know what these jobs will be. Likewise, a competitive approach with a pyramid model, where all strive to become “the best,” seems like it will be obsolete in tomorrow’s world. As François Taddei rightfully points out:

“We need to change the education paradigm. Instead of competing on yesterday’s knowledge on topics they have not chosen, learners have to move to cooperate on the issues that are the most relevant and meaningful to them in order to build the future.” 

(Title quote taken from the Learning Planet Institute home page)

“Every Stone A Story Like A Rosary”

Joan Osborne’s haunting “Saint Teresa” gave me a line that has resonated for decades: “Every stone a story like a rosary.” I first heard this song while spending a summer in the United States in 1995, and I’ve often remembered these words since then.

For me, this beautifully worded phrase captures how each element, each prayer, each individual, is a complete entity, but also an irreplaceable piece of a larger, interconnected whole. It’s a truth that feels particularly vital now, as we navigate a world where AI-driven noise floods our social media, and escalating global conflicts, like the recent US attacks on Yemen and Iran, threaten to overwhelm us. Despite these currents, I want to focus on how individuals still have a crucial part to play in the broader march of time. 

An Entire World Within A Vast Universe

As the Talmudic dictum goes: 

“Whoever saves a life, it is considered as if s/he saved an entire world.”
– Talmudic dictum

And just as we can each be viewed as an entire world unto ourselves, we must find a delicate balance where we can respect both ourselves and the greater whole that we are a part of. While it’s sometimes wise to set aside personal preferences for the group, we must also, at times, lead by example to build bridges rather than walls.

I firmly believe that we cannot lead truly fulfilling lives without genuine connection to others. And thus, as I mentioned in my previous post about moral values, each of us has a duty to act in accordance with a moral compass. In times like these, this certainly requires a quality which is often mentioned across liberal media, namely courage. We would all like to think ourselves courageous, but as history has taught us, not all of us are. Many are followers. Despite our best intentions, it’s natural not to want to stand out too much, run the risk of being criticised, or worse, ostracised. Especially since, without a broad temporal setting, you never know whether or not you should trust your instinct that you are on the right side of history.

In The Right Place

This quote, that has been circulated a lot of late, encourages us to stand by our convictions: 

“Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.”
– Attributed to Abraham Lincoln

However, it makes matters difficult that what constitutes “the right place” shifts over time. The concept of Human Rights, for instance, barely existed for most of human history. Therefore, all we can do is rely on our conscience, hoping we’re not entirely off course. Even then, swimming against the current, while perhaps celebrated in hindsight, is both difficult and ungratifying in the moment.

As I experienced a long time ago, while lifting yourself above the crowd offers more breathing room and sunlight, it also makes you a more visible, and thus easier, target. Belonging to a herd, on the other hand, offers safety, comfort, and ease – no need to define your own rules, make tough decisions, or even fully face consequences, as long as you adhere to the group’s chosen role. 

Courage And Fear

The flip side of this is that you have less freedom of expression, of being who you genuinely are, and you don’t necessarily get to follow your own values. In the current political context, this reminds me of a famous picture of the lone man who refused to do the Nazi salute in 1936 Germany, while standing in a crowd of Nazi enthusiasts. When seeing this photo again at the “Topography of Terror” history museum in Berlin, it struck me how deeply he must have been convinced that he was in the right to do this. It is easy for us to look at it now and praise his courage, believing we would have done the same. But history suggests that most people conform out of necessity or fear. 

Picture of people giving a Nazi salute, with an unidentified person (possibly August Landmesser or Gustav Wegert) refusing to do so.

As this quote, famously attributed to many, including Mark Twain and Nelson Mandela, specifies: 

“Courage is not the absence of fear, it is the willingness to act despite your fear.”

This willingness is often tied to family or faith. I noticed this as I became a mother: where we might accept injustice or unfairness for fear of reprisal as long as we only have ourselves to look after, when we feel directly responsible for another human being, we will rise above our concerns for our own health and safety to safeguard those of another. Faith is somewhat different in that it seems to surpass the physical world and our earthbound life, and thus, people like Joan of Arc have been willing to sacrifice their own bodies for what they perceived to be something greater than themselves, or indeed humanity.

Spreading The Light 

At a recent exhibit of Polish Romani artist Małgorzata Mirga-Tas, I saw her piece entitled “Papusza’s song” (“Papuszakri Gili”), inspired by Romani poet and icon Papusza, born Bronislawa Wajs.

Małgorzata Mirga-Tas, Papuszakri Gili (Papusza’s Song), 2024, textile, acrylic on canvas.
Courtesy of the artist and the Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw. Photo: Marek Gardulski.

Mirga-Tas is a remarkable woman who defies conventions, and she felt the need and made the choice to, in turn, pay tribute to another such artist, Papusza. The latter led a singular life and suffered the consequences of going against the tide. Papusza’s contribution to the demystification of Roma was crucial, but she was banished from her community for it, while being instrumentalised outside her community as a token poster child. She suffered greatly for having lived authentically. However, this light she carried within came to influence others who cannot stand being confined to a proverbial box. 

Building Bridges

And this is what I want to celebrate here: the fact of taking action to contribute to a better world, which necessarily entails connecting with others around us. As my dear friend Sarah Barbieux, a Romani artist and activist, told me many years ago: 

“In order to last, bridges need to be built from both banks.”
– Sarah Barbieux

To me, this also means that rather than judge people who disagree with us, it is both wiser and more gratifying to seek a path towards connecting, and hopefully even understanding them. This was perfectly summed up in this quote I recently stumbled upon: 

“The greatest distance between two people is misunderstanding.”
– Anonymous

With that in mind, I feel the need to take concrete action towards building a bridge for people who have closed themselves off to anyone who disagrees with them. Their comfortable position has been exploited and amplified by Big Tech, whose algorithms further drag us all into wells of conformity, surrounded only by those who resemble us. 

So far, life has taught me that this approach of welcoming only opinions that validate your own is damaging to one’s wisdom, improvement and, at the end of the day, worthwhile bonds with others. Where there are no challenges, there can be no growth. This is not only true in the sense of intellectual or rational development, but also in our personal relationships. I have learned so much from people whose beliefs I do not share, and I now seek to pursue relationships with persons whose depths are not ostentatiously exposed, but rather require patience and trust to discover. 

Being comfortable is pleasant indeed, and life is also meant to be enjoyed in its moments of reprieve from struggles. But in the long run, the most fulfilling experiences are those that push us to tap into our courage and selflessness. 

Echoes Of Idealism

This approach motivated me to dust off a project that I had left on a shelf for a long time, because of the challenges it presents. Over a decade ago, I had taken it upon myself to tell the story of a family of exceptional activists through a three-part documentary, entitled: “Echoes of Idealism, Maury and Sally’s ripple of positive action”. The term “idealism” here is used as:

“The belief that your ideals can be achieved, often when this does not seem likely to others.”

– Cambridge dictionary

Maury and Sally Fox’s family includes many individuals who, though not widely famous outside of specific circles, deserve to be celebrated because they are prime examples of the positive impact each of us can have if we follow our moral compass. They have shown courage and a willingness to act at an individual level for the bettering of society. If I had to translate this into an image, it would be that of a candle whose flame lights the next, and so on and so forth, thereby spreading light in an otherwise dark space. 

Art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

In these times of glorifying lone superheroes or mass movements, I am seeking to celebrate individuals who fall into neither category. Those who take concrete and discrete action with no expectation of any reward, just because they believe something has to be done to improve the situation. And rather than wait for the solution to come from others, Maury and Sally’s circle went ahead and took action. The brilliant and humble Maury Fox, a pioneering geneticist and molecular biologist, used his knowledge, network, and strong moral code to further the social responsibility of scientists and ethical policymaking in science. Likewise, his wife, Sally Fox Cherniavsky, a trailblazing photographer, editor, and art historian, used her influence and access to countless works of art to challenge the visual history of women and provide a more accurate representation of their lives across different eras. 

Lightbearers In The Dark

These two lightbearers, central to my story, demonstrated that by simply acting according to their values, their light illuminated others. Likewise, others before them ignited this flame in them, including Maury’s mentor, the renowned scientist Leo Szilard, who not only developed the idea of the nuclear chain reaction, but later also fervently advocated for atomic energy control. And thus, through a tapestry of intertwined stories, “Echoes of Idealism” will show how light is passed on and spreads.

In order to discover the pieces of this puzzle I am compiling to tell the untold stories of influential lightbearers of 20th Century America, you will need to wait a little longer…

In the meantime, what I wish to convey here is that the time has come yet again to go beyond expressing your convictions in private, or safely hiding behind your screens. Each of us must now meet polarising discourse with self-reflection, active listening, understanding, and individual concrete action. So that we may each play our part, not just as individuals but as members of a wider entity. 

Each of us can be a lightbearer. Just as every stone on a rosary tells its own story, while being an irreplaceable part of a larger, interconnected whole.

(Title quote taken from “St. Teresa”, Joan Osborne)