Snippet
Character
Comment
Leading
Trauma
3 min read

Could I strike a deal after a public humiliation?

How to come back from setback after setback.

Jean is a consultant working with financial and Christian organisations. She also writes and broadcasts.

President Zelensky speaks and a caption reads ' on the economic partnership with the United States.
The art of the deal.
x.com/ZelenskyyUa

‘USA and Ukraine sign a minerals deal.’  

Two months ago, this headline looked impossible. The world watched in horror as President Zelensky was mistreated in the Oval Office and then appeared to be booted out of the White House before scheduled negotiations for the deal could begin. Zelensky left Washington having been publicly humiliated by the most powerful leader in the world.  

Whether he was blindsided, underprepared, badly briefed, misguided, disrespected, the victim of bullying or some combination of all of the above, the stakes for both him and Ukraine were as high as it could possibly get.  

These sort of political bust-ups if they happen, happen behind the scenes. But this was in the open, on air, for all the world to see. Not only then but it is available to view online in perpetuality.   

Now for just one minute, put yourself in President Zelensky’s shoes, what would be your next move? Me, I am probably going to cry, check my socials, go to sleep and say I am going home. I am done for the day. So many thoughts would be going through my mind. In all honesty, I would probably be going through all the stages of grief!  

Denial – ‘I can’t believe that just happened. Did they really just throw us out?’  

Anger – ‘What was J.D. Vance doing? Why did they gang up on me? I thought we were allies. I am not coming back here ever again.’ 

Bargaining – ‘Let’s get them on the phone. Does anyone have a contact we can reach out to? Can someone try to call the Secretary of State, Marco Rubio on private number?’ 

Depression – ‘What have I done? I have made things infinitely worse for my people and our country. Will we ever win this war? Will I be responsible for the surrender and end of Ukraine? Maybe I should resign and we hold elections?’ 

Acceptance – ‘It has happened now. No use crying over spilt milk.’ 

At this point I would say, ‘I am going to bed. Let’s start again in the morning’ (I think you can see why I am not a political leader).  

When I put myself in President Zelensky’s shoes and I think back to that day in February, (putting the war itself aside) and contrast it with his recent meeting with President Trump at Pope Francis’ funeral alongside the minerals deal, I am reminded of old wisdom found in an old book - the Bible.  

'Even if good people fall seven times, they will get back up.' 

Public humiliation, shame, disappointment and failure are often times when we give up and disqualify ourselves. Rather than view it as a moment in time, we tend to claim our failure, mistake or mishap as part of our identity. This often causes us to walk away from good opportunities and hold ourselves to an unattainable standard. My Christian faith teaches me to place my identity not in anything I do but in what Jesus Christ did for me when he died on the cross for my mistakes. Jesus like Zelensky, faced public humiliation and shame. He is the ultimate example of how I ought to respond in the face of opposition. Jesus did not respond to his accusers and remained focus on his mission to save not just a one nation but an entirely broken world.   Every so often I need to be reminded of this.  

Very few of us, if any of us, will ever face the level of public humiliation or as high stakes as President Zelensky did on that day (even if it feels otherwise). Things will go wrong, we will make mistakes, people will cause us embarrassment, but it will only be for a moment in time. This new minerals deal is a reminder that things can and will get better. Our mistakes or bad circumstances do not define us, we can and will recover if we are able to get up and try again. 

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Article
Christmas survival
Comment
Eating
Joy
4 min read

Share some food and find the antidote to despair

Who we eat with says who we are.

Isaac is a PhD candidate in Theology at Durham University and preparing for priesthood in the Church of England.

Three people stand beside a table and smile.
Lewisham Mayor Brenda Dacres with foodbank volunteers.
Lewisham Foodbank.

In my local supermarket a new foodbank collection trolley has appeared with this sign,  

“Gift a toy this Christmas…give a gift this Christmas to those who need it most.” 

 Setting aside the usual ethical dilemma presented by the existence of foodbanks (why do they exist in such a wealthy country?), the sign prompted a thought on the nature of joy. What is more joyful than the surprise of an unexpected gift? After all, Christmas is around the corner, “Joy to the world!”.  

That thought came to mind when I was recently asked; how do we cultivate and foster joy? If I’m honest I was a little stumped by the question. What even is joy anyway?  

We can too easily and readily conflate it with lesser feelings like happiness or pleasure, which by their nature seem to be fleeting, like a chocolate bar: here one moment, gone the next. Thinking about it, joy seems to be thrown into relief when it is set against one of its opposites: despair. We all know what despair looks like; loneliness, isolation, a hopelessness which can yawn like a great dark chasm, without edges to get purchase on, or without a hand to hold. 

Christmas can be an especially potent time for despair. The days are short and often dimmed by heavy cloud and rain. Children’s expectation that Santa will bring all of the latest goodies drives parents into debt to make their hopes come true. Those in dire straits will struggle to scrape together the food that goes into the usual Christmas feast. This combination of dark days and high expectations can and does drive many further into despair. It is this sense of aloneness, of the weight of the world heaped on your shoulders alone, which fuels despair. 

This despair is not only reserved for Christmas. We see the climbing rates of anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues in the younger generations. Having been born into the age of the internet and growing up with social media, the temptation to compare with the heavily edited and curated lives of others, encouraged by the platform algorithms themselves, only serves to make young people feel increasingly alone.  

This feeling is not helped by the propaganda of the age; that we are all rational, autonomous individuals, whose fulfilment looks like self-reliance, status, and wealth, without the need for anyone else. All this breeds the solipsism and nihilism that so often morphs into despair. 

Foodbanks are the proof that this most basic constituent of joy is a struggle for many, from the sheer lack of food to share 

What does this despair tell us about joy? If despair is in isolation, bearing our burdens alone, then joy is in being with other people. To return to that chocolate bar, if happiness (and perhaps the despair which comes from having no more chocolate bar) is scoffing it by ourselves, then joy is breaking off a part and sharing it with another. Human beings are naturally social creatures. It is in our very nature to live with one another. If we remain alone, closed off to others, then we nurture the despair that this breeds.  

An incredibly simple way we remain connected to each other is by sharing food. If despair is the isolation from others then sharing food is the negation of this isolation. Sharing food is universally important, whether it’s the realpolitik of American high school films (the jock table vs the dork table and who’s allowed to sit with who, encapsulated perfectly by Mean Girls), or the mystical heights of the Christian eucharist. Who we eat with says who we are, with all the potential for exclusion the examples above show. But eating with others says what we are. Sharing food, especially in celebration at a time like Christmas, reminds us that our humanity is only ever shared. This reminder that we are not alone is not a fleeting happiness; it is a confirmation in our very flesh and bones that we are made of the same stuff, that we are never alone. 

Many of us will have this joy as part of our everyday lives; foodbanks are the proof that this most basic constituent of joy is a struggle for many, from the sheer lack of food to share. The sign that appeared in my local supermarket is more proof that we already know how simple joy can be. Many foodbanks organise specifically festive food for this season, because we know that not only sharing food, but celebrating in that sharing is crucial to what it means to be human. Even in the morally mixed ecosystem of the foodbank, the need for joy shines through; sharing food in celebration is one of those antidotes for despair. In sharing our food we find our humanity, and what is more joyful than that? 

 

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