I aimed at the public’s heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach. Upton Sinclair
I guess that’s what disappointment is- a sense of loss for something you never had. Deb Caletti
To make someone wait: the constant prerogative of all power. Roland Barthes
Life is a long preparation for something that never happens. W.B. Yeats
He had the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom. P.G. Wodehouse
Disappointment’ s cousin is Frustration, the second storm. Chetan Bhagat
Deep under our feet the Earth holds its molten breath, while the bones of countless generations watch us and wait. Isaac Marion
I have a (bad) habit of indulging in what is known in the radio business as “sports-talk,” a phenomenon characterized by mostly men calling in to show hosts – also mostly men – and airing mostly grievances about things which, in the grand scheme of things mostly don’t matter. In this media format, people lose their minds over such important things as how far someone can throw an American football, whether or not so-and-so has the “clutch gene,” or how some player can possibly “earn” a salary which might be, literally speaking, 1000 times larger than those of the callers.
But for all its stunning banality, sports-talk is also a window on culture, a culture which seems increasingly unhinged, where external grievance has almost completely obliterated internal gratitude; where we engage the outside world mostly to satisfy our rooting interests rather than to root out the fear and suspicion causing many of us to build walls rather than open doors, indulge emotions that might otherwise be considered unseemly, and utterly confuse the petty and the profound.
Some of this was on display this week regarding a decision by gymnast Simone Biles to forgo Olympic events she was expected to win due to concerns over her own mental stability and thus her ability to participate in jumps and twists and twirls with high potential for injury if your mind “isn’t right.” While some radio callers were sympathetic, many others were in the “throw some dirt on it” and get back to business crowd, based on some underlying sense that Biles “owes” the rest of us a performance regardless of her mental state, regardless of the threats her high-wire acts actually pose to herself, and regardless of how many times she has honored her talents – and her audience – in the past.
It occurred to me that these are the kinds of comments we make when there is not enough of life washing over us, when the social isolation of the times breeds what we might expect it to – a suspicion of everything outside our bubbles save for the thing we do well to be most suspicious of in these precarious times – the bubbles in which we have immersed ourselves. Yes, some of us may well have gotten a bit too “soft” in these times, giving up and giving in, pulling the bed covers over our heads when it is time to get up and face the world to the best of our current capacity. But many of us have also lost a bit of speed on our metaphorical “fast balls,” a bit of confidence, a bit of judgment, a bit of energy, a bit of perspective, a bit of connection. Many of us are not even close to our mental-best now and, unlike Simone Biles, seem incapable of recognizing as much. Some would seemingly rather lose their proverbial lunches over mask wearing — the current societal equivalent of sports-talk grievances – as though a patch of blue material and two white strings constituted an existential threat to our well-being, as though our “freedom” to consume our metaphorical meals as we alone wish also includes the “freedom” to stick a fork in the stomachs of others.
As the United Nations also recognizes, we are collectively facing a mental health crisis which mirrors and is directly affected by our pandemic-related physical health threats. Over the past 18 months the losses have been both numerous and challenging to chronicle – people losing their homes and plunging into poverty; people facing grave food insecurity and social isolation; people having to make decisions they thought they would never have to make as incomes evaporate, schools close and threats from armed violence, traffickers, political instability and climate change leave millions in situations beyond precarious. For too many in our world, the pandemic has done more than merely interrupt our personal goals and aspirations but is more akin to “piling on,” heaping trauma on top of deprivation and fraying a social fabric which represents a mortal loss to people less and less able to meet their own basic needs.
It is hard even to imagine the mental strains associated with this confluence of grave challenges, but to some degree, this is the business of those of us who work in multilateral policy settings. We are mandated to identify at least some of the pain and to ensure that at least some of our policy work is germane to its easing, is at least adequate to those waiting for the relief and restoration that they are unable to effect for themselves. This week, the UN reflected on those languishing in COVID-infected prisons in Syria, those daring to take to the streets in Myanmar seeking to pry governance from the bloodied hands of the military junta, those in Tigray and Yemen waiting desperately and relentlessly for provisions which have become tactical elements in a larger conflict. These are just some of the people whom we have encouraged to assume that we have their back, that we have some of what is needed to free them from suffering and help restore them to health, including and especially mental health, health which they will need if they and their loved ones are to navigate a world with high threat levels beyond the immediate levers of misery.
But exposing mental health deficiencies and calling for more “services” is only part of the equation. At UN events this week focused on victims of food insecurity and human trafficking, speakers from the UN and from field-based NGOs noted the urgent need for victims to be “seen beyond their trauma,” to be regarded as agents of change and healing and not only recipients of assistance, to underscore the strong desire of many to be “the last victim” of exploitation and deprivation, and thus to be the forefront of efforts to move people to places of self-sufficiency and dignity, aspects long-denied people seeking (and sometimes failing) to outrun the “storms” that seem forever to form on the horizon.
The power of victim testimony was evident this week, insisting on a place at the policy table, noting how much easier it is to “walk strange roads” towards health and recovery alongside others who have walked them previously, affirming with actress Mira Sorvino that the ” bravery and lived experience” of survivors can be amplified and thus help to inspire the international community to do more to prevent and restore what Sorvino referred to as “decimated lives.” Others, including at the UN Food Systems pre-Summit underscored the urgency of the times, the “children who face starvation while we sit here and make speeches,” our half-measures that too-often reinforce the trauma from the long waiting we have, at some core level, pledged to reduce.
Such half-measures also punctuated what was one of the signature events of the UN week, the 7th Biennial Meeting of States on Small Arms and Light Weapons, a meeting intended to push forward implementation of the Programme of Action (PoA) to combat illicit weapons and prevent their diversion from authorized to unauthorized sectors.
Like other aspects of our collective work, this PoA while not legally binding nevertheless constitutes a promise to communities awash in weapons illicit and otherwise, weapons which intimidate and coerce, weapons which undermine development progress and effective parenting, weapons which in the hands of the stable and (increasingly) unstable cause deaths for some and enable other abuses much easier to commit at the point of a gun.
As I often do, I wondered while watching some of this PoA unfold, how this scene might appear to those in diverse communities begging for relief from armed violence threats, waiting and waiting some more for the solutions that they cannot effect by themselves, wondering if it is the lot of their children to spend their lives dodging bullets and the intimidation of armed bullies, wondering also if those seeming to place national interest before human interest will ever understand the relationship between the global saturations of weapons and the trauma those weapons engender and which are routinely experienced by millions.
There were some excellent proposals put forward by Costa Rica, South Africa, Colombia and others regarding the need to expand the scope of the PoA to include ammunition (the “bullets that kill”), to affirm closer synergies with the Arms Trade Treaty and other international instruments, to affirm that the PoA is related at its core to implementation of the Sustainable Development Goals, to fully integrate women’s participation and victim-centered perspectives into this work, and most importantly, to reinforce the view that reducing production of weapons is the most direct path to ending the diversion of weapons; that the more weapons in circulation the harder they are to manage.
All of these proposals seemed worthwhile to us, in fact seemed indispensable to fully meeting the promises embedded in the PoA. And yet resistance to each was considerable, at times fierce, perhaps even borderline irrational from the perspective of those who seek to honor those waiting and waiting for evidence of a reawakened sanity on arms proliferation. Demands to uphold “consensus” rained down on the PoA conference room, claims often made by states with only tepid interest in abiding by the actions which the prevailing BMS consensus had already advocated. This was hardly the “right signal” to the world which Mexico hoped to send, certainly not to those frustrated hearts we are trying to convince regarding our commitment to understand and scale back the growing small arms threat.
Perhaps no reaction to this resistance was as poignant as that of the PoA Chair, Ambassador Kimani of Kenya. In his closing remarks, he vetted his “learning” from this often-contentious week challenging the value and viability of prevailing notions of consensus and coming to a fresh if disquieting understanding of the frustration of global communities regarding the UN’s alleged ability to “solve their problems.”
He could also have wondered, if he dared, if our global institutions were now destined to magnify trauma and other threats to mental and physical health rather than mitigate them, if we have become hard-wired to use the power at our disposal to force other people to wait – even unto death — until we get our act together, until we recover our full policy sanity, until we recognize who we actually work for and what they now require of us. The victims of gun violence – like those of trafficking, famine and a deadly pandemic –need us to heed their voices and honor their efficacy, need us to walk with them down unfamiliar paths and refuse to contribute to yet more disappointment or loss; but also to do the jobs we’ve been entrusted with, to restore credibility jeopardized or even lost among those who find themselves in situations where there is simply no more time to wait.
Our still-declining mental health requires increased services and the policy participation of the traumatized; but it also requires safer and more predictable environments in which to feed, educate and raise our children. A world awash in weapons simply cannot ensure such settings. We who profess to care about those persons waiting for weapons-related relief simply must find the means to provide it.




